#also not sure if anyone this is applicable to will read this far but

[exopelagic]

why do applications feel like your soul is being lightly roasted at 180C

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[sencrose]

— WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

pairing: naoya zenin x f!reader, implied feelings involving naomaki

tags: dead dove do not eat. dubcon, angst?, reader is described as having a similar appearance to maki (mostly in hairstyle), incestuous undertones, physical abuse (against maki, sorry queen) established relationship, throatfucking, no prep, rough sex, pain during sex, (condescending) praise, hair pulling, internalized misogyny

wc: 3.2k

summary: You do not know what your husband sees in you. For better or worse, you learn.

a/n: back on my writing horrible things about naoya bullshit!! ngl this was weird to write but i also had a lot of fun with it. big thank you to @blueparadis for beta reading this for me <3 please read the tags and proceed with caution. ao3 link here

tagging: @pixelcafe-network @jellyfishsart

You do not know what your husband sees in you. 

It is not that you are without merit, but you are, simply put, plain. A weed in a field of flowers in full bloom. The diet that follows after a bad bout of the stomach flu. A satellite in the night sky that might be mistaken for a star — until it glides past far too quickly to be one, much to an onlooker’s disappointment. 

You know what power the Zen’in clan holds. The kind of power where even the most upstanding of sons will poison their fathers just for a taste. The paranoia that comes with it, the rumors of potential traitors whispered between paper doors is enough to keep anyone on edge. 

With all of that in mind, you know in your heart of hearts you are not the type of person the next head of the clan would pursue. 

Yet you were told he picked you out by hand, out of the dozens of matchmaking papers given to him. Applicants that began and ended on ink, their names, birthdays, and occupations, were discarded without a care of who they were, or who they could have been. 

What an honor, you were told. 

So you packed up your things with a judgemental eye, preparing yourself for the worst when you arrive. Would they let you keep a stuffed animal that was a birthday gift from a friend, or is that too childish? What about this shirt — is it conservative enough or will it bring unwanted attention?

You left most things behind. 

—

Every now and then, you recall a conversation you had with your mother shared over a plate of cut fruit, shortly before you received the news from the Zen’in clan. It comes to you whenever you see the young girls rushing through the corridors, hands holding a stack of sheets that tower over them. 

“Do you have any dreams?” she asked, carving the skin of an apple, the crimson peel spiraling under her skillful thumb, “Ambitions?”

She tended to ask this now and then. It’s natural, you assumed; a mother’s desire to know anything and everything there is to know about their child. 

It’s hard to remember or keep track of all the answers you’ve given her. All you know is that they’ve become less ambitious over the years. From huffing your chest out and saying you’ll be an astronaut who lives out in the stars with the profound confidence only a child could have, to something less spectacular, more mundane. 

You didn’t have much luck becoming a sorcerer, which shrunk your options. Maybe you’d go to school. Maybe get a degree, get some kind of corporate job, waste your life away in a gray office cubicle. 

But none of those are dreams. Obligations, perhaps.

“No, not really,” you replied, detached from the conversation. It was the truth. 

She patted you on the back, comfortingly. “Ah, that’s a good thing. You don’t want to be greedy.”

You still don’t know what she meant by that, but you also made no effort to ask for clarification. The words simmered low and steady until it burned and branded itself in your head.

As if to pull you out of your thoughts, your mother handed you a slice, an offering. Despite her words, you wondered if it was consolation. 

—

Even after some time has passed since your arrival, you do not know what your husband sees in you. You’re not sure he sees you at all. 

His touch is few and far between. 

To your surprise, on the night of your wedding you did not consummate your marriage. It happened two weeks after, and it was not what you expected from someone who had supposedly picked you out on his own accord. 

It was anything but gentle. You learned quickly that Naoya Zen’in is not a patient man.

Rough hands were grabbing anywhere, everywhere. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was trying to devour you. 

Nothing placated him. When you gazed up at him teary-eyed with soft pleas to go slower, you only made things worse. Hands grabbed onto your form to flip you over, push your face into the sheets so he didn’t have to hear your protests. Fingers pressed deep into the dip of your waist, so hard you worried about bruises forming (they did). 

Once he got what he wanted out of you, he tossed you to the side. As if you were some random girl he just happened to pick up for the night, someone he hoped would be gone come morning. 

As if you weren’t his wife. 

It was the first time in a long time that you realized, maybe, you had wants. Desires. To do something instead of having something done onto you. 

But your mother’s words haunt you. 

You don’t want to be greedy. 

—

For the first time since arriving at the estate, you have a hint of what your husband sees in you.

You don’t think you’re supposed to see it. You don’t think you’re supposed to be here at all.  

A girl lies on the floor of the open courtyard, her head underneath Naoya’s heel.

It’s like looking into a mirror, though a bit distorted. The image is similar, but the puzzle pieces filling in the gaps are all different.

Her hair is much like yours, though the strands that frame her face hang like blades, sharpened, ready to cut anyone who gets too close. 

You don’t have that type of intensity around you. The pieces of hair that frame your face soften your features. Wispy, uncertain shapes that blow away with the slightest puff of wind. 

The similarities start and end there. 

Though she’s younger than you, she wears a hardened expression, one you always thought would come to you with age. You realize now that you must’ve had it easy when you see how she wears it like it’s all she’s ever known. 

Although you go unnoticed by your husband, the girl acknowledges your presence. Her gaze meets yours, fury ablaze in her eyes, along with something else you don’t recognize. Your legs react before you even realize, taking a step back. 

Even with her body pressed into the ground in submission, you can tell she is anything but. It’s written candidly on her face, teeth bared to the world, begging for flesh to dig into.

Your husband must be a blind fool. Even you can see from a distance that she’s a wild animal in human form, just waiting for a chance to break the chains of her enclosure. You feel it in her stare, how she strips you down to a state even Naoya hasn’t witnessed. You don’t like it. How her eyes hone in on you like a lion staring down its prey.

Then again, would you even be considered prey? Even a rabbit has a fighting chance at running away. You do not know how to run. Not towards a goal, and certainly not away from danger.

But you can still walk. Walk while you can and you can forget you’ve ever seen this. Stuff it back in the recesses of your mind, back where you wrote off wants and desires and greed all those years ago.

You don’t walk away fast enough.

When you hear her name slip from your husband’s lips, your stomach freefalls. 

You haven’t been at the estate for long, but you know of her. Everyone does. You just never had the chance to put a name to a face. Maki Zen’in, one half of the clan disappointment, alongside her twin sister. It goes without saying that you also know of the ties that connect them.

You know your husband is a cruel man. He has to be; it’s practically a requirement for someone of his power and status. But it’s hard to watch when it’s laid out so plainly in front of you. Even so, you stay.

You watch with a tightness in your chest as he pulls her up by the base of her ponytail before throwing her back onto the ground, gravel and dust dispersed in the air from the impact.

Anger lights a fire in his eyes. No matter what he does, he doesn’t seem to get the reaction he wants, or much of a reaction at all. She takes it in stride, only emitting hushed grunts when he kicks her. While you flinch at the volume of his voice rising, she boldly sneers at his frustration.

You meet her eyes again. 

She laughs. 

It isn’t to piss off Naoya. No, it’s directed at you. The bystander who’ll go on with her day like nothing ever happened, even after witnessing the horrific abuse doled out at the hands of her husband.

Even though she doesn’t hold an ounce of cursed energy in her veins, you know what she thinks of you. You hear it in the dry chuckle she lets out before Naoya kicks her again.

You’re cursed. 

How pitiful. 

—

You’re sure he’s ranting about something, maybe something Naobito did, but you can’t bring yourself to listen to him. All you can think about is the girl in the courtyard, with an ire in her eyes you’ve never seen before. When was the last time you looked like that? Felt something so intense it radiated off of your very being, so bright and radiant it couldn’t be ignored? Have you ever had that kind of fighting spirit in you?

A stagnant silence brings you back. You vacantly stare back at your husband. It was your turn to speak for once. You perk up at the opportunity, though you’re unsure how to seize it.

“Sorry. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? You don’t need to say anything. C’mere.”

He pulls you in closer, his hand petting your head. It’s the only time he shows any semblance of gentleness, a cruel way of lulling you into a false sense of security. You know what comes next. His hand presses against your head, lower, lower, until you’re nestled against his crotch. Naoya looks at you, expectantly. 

Your fingers wrap around the cotton ties that hold his hakama pants, pulling with a tug. From there, the fabric falls easily, more so once you reach around his waist to undo the tension from the straps. 

You steel yourself to do what you’ve always done, though something sits in the back of your mind. 

You get him to groan with a long stroke of your tongue on the underside of his cock. Build yourself up to taking his entire length into his mouth, inch by dreadful inch, but it’s hard. By the time you swallow him whole, you can feel his tip pressing against the back of your throat. You do your best to service him at a pace he’d be satisfied with, one you know is out of your skillset, dribbling spit and coughing softly whenever you go too deep.

But Naoya isn’t satisfied. He’s impatient, his fingers weaving through your hair, pulling tight before he quickens your pace to his own liking. It’s something you still haven’t gotten used to. The burning in your eyes, the gross wet sounds that leave your mouth as he bobs your head up and down like a toy.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. Take me in so well, don’t you?” His grip around your hair tightens.

He continues recklessly fucking your throat, ignoring all of the choked cough and garbled yelps you let out whenever he hits the back of your throat. All you can do is take it, ball your fists and fold your thumbs in, and hope that trick you learned about reducing your gag reflex isn’t just some urban legend.

Naoya removes yourself from him as roughly as he places you onto him. The rush of air is both a welcome one and sudden change, and you gasp and cough at the sensation.

“Wife,” He brandishes the title like a weapon, the blade of a dagger pressed against your neck.

“Tie your hair up for me, won’t you?” he poses it as a question, but you know you have no choice in the matter. 

Time freezes.

Your eyes shift and you find yourself fiddling with your fingers, hoping he will change his mind if you look up at him with a disarming plea in your eyes, but his gaze does not falter. His eyes only get darker, a dangerous amber that glows like a warning sign in the lowlight of your shared chamber, as he awaits you to fulfill his request. 

Maybe your husband doesn’t see you, but you have always seen him for who he is, even if you didn’t want to admit it. It shines more than ever, when he tilts his head and the corners of his lips upturn. A snake carefully wrapping itself around a rat, just one good squeeze away from keeping you in his clutches forever. Once again, you’re trapped and frozen with nowhere to go. Unfortunately, you play your part well without trying.

You shouldn’t be surprised. It probably runs in their blood.

Slowly, you tie your hair up, strands spilling between your fingertips as you pick them up again, gathering and pulling through the hair only halfway through the elastic, an unstable, floppy bun.

You don’t want to be greedy.

A ghost of unspoken words from your mother whispers against your ear, and maybe if you caught on a bit sooner, things would be different. What was she trying to tell you? What did she hold behind her tongue so cautiously?

Because that’s not how I raised you?

Because that’s not a woman’s place?

Because that’s not what makes a good wife?

But none of it sounds quite right.

And though the thoughts swirl and cloud your head, something else rings bright and clear through the murkiness. 

You want. You want to be wrong. You want it with an intensity you’ve never felt before in your life, a desire clawing its way out of your chest, desperate to see the light of day. 

It’s a good thing. You don’t want to be greedy.

Naoya gently tugs on the loop of hair with his fingers, almost intimately, and it makes your stomach curl. He pulls apart the strands in half to tighten it, until a ponytail reminiscent of the one you saw earlier today sits on top of your head. 

It is only in this moment the clouds in your mind disperse, the addendum your mother wanted to add clear as day.

Because all you will be left with is disappointment.

Even though you’re filled with unease, you follow his lead because it’s all you’ve ever known. He pulls on the waistband of your skirt before pushing his hand against your back, getting you in position to arch for him. 

His fingers drag against your slit, before sliding two of them inside your hole, ignoring any initial resistance. Another thing you learned about your husband is that he’s a determined man; to your dismay, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t fit, he’ll make it fit. Even the stretch of his digits is uncomfortable, scissoring them inside you just to hear you whine under his touch. You wince when he withdraws them, tighten up when you feel something hot and hard pressed against you.

There’s no getting used to his size. Even if he took the time to prepare you properly, you’re sure it would still hurt – if not at the initial penetration, then at the frenzied thrusts that come shortly after. His plump cockhead nudges teasingly against your hole, poking and proding before pulling away. He likes to keep you on your toes, hear you whimper when he surprises you a rough thrust. 

Something about him seems more impatient than usual.

He pushes himself into you, and you bite down on your lip as he splits your walls apart in one swift movement. Over the course of your marriage, you’ve learned to wait out the pain, keep your breathing steady until he starts to move. But his pace never stays slow for long. It’s only a short moment before his hips slam into yours faster and you have to weave through the sheets and grip for stability.

“Naoya, ‘s too much,” you whine, voice high pitched and on the edge of sounding needy.

Without warning his hands wrap around your ponytail and he pulls tight. The sharp pain makes you wince, arch your back until you’re pressed flush against his chest.

“Talking back, are we?” he quips back.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say, hushed and quiet. 

You don’t think he accepts your apology, not when he tugs a bit harder and gives you a thrust so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs. Whether he accepts it or not, he’s still enjoying himself. You hear it in the groans he lets out whenever he hits you deep inside and you moan at the impact, feel it in the way his other hand kneads your breast before giving your nipple a tug.

“You like this, don’t you?”

You wonder if his words are actually directed towards you, but you don’t think too hard about your response, falling back on your default mode of placating him.

“Mhm,” you hum softly.

“Then you won’t mind if I go harder, right?” he asks, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond. There’s no smooth transition, he simply goes straight into fucking you harder.

His pace is dizzying, the slap of skin-to-skin echoing throughout the room as he fucks you.

He only gets louder and more desperate as his hips slam into yours. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this before. It makes your mind race, makes you wonder if he’s holding back his tongue to call out another name whenever he hums a bit too long in pleasure. Each sound he makes causes your heart to skip in terror and anticipation, but you never hear it. Still, it trembles. 

“Be a bit louder for me, ok?” he whispers in the shell of your ear. His hand traces down from your chest to your waist, lower until it reaches your aching clit. “I’ll even treat you tonight.”

The unexpected contact pushes you further into him, sends a shiver of tension up your spine. You don’t want to admit the pleasure boiling up in you, not like this, but your body doesn’t give you much of a choice. Your lips are the first line of defense to fall, high pitched moans you don’t recognize spilling so easily, naturally, as if it’s water leaking from a faucet.

Maybe he thinks you’re enjoying yourself just a bit too much, because the grip on your hair tightens once again. But it doesn’t stop the rush of warmth building up in your stomach, from your muscles tightening to prepare for your impending climax.

“Nao, I’m close, I’m close-”

Shame washes over you along with your orgasm, walls fluttering against his cock, as he fucks you through it. Naoya’s own climax follows shortly after yours, his hips thrusting harder until he stills with a shaky groan. 

Only once he removes himself from you, you collapse on to the bed, body spent. You cautiously reach for the hair tie, looking over at Naoya as you pull it out with a soft tug. He doesn’t stop you. 

You know what your husband sees in you.

You wish you didn’t see it too. 

[tarragonthedragon]

so I'm in the office when I hear it. the EIC, in the corner, my manager's manager, lights up the batsignal and voices a cry for aid:

"is anyone here who speaks Welsh?"

immediately, all heads turn to Charles' desk. Charles is Welsh. Charles takes several days to recover from the shock every time someone on a National Trust podcast mispronounces Llanidloes. surely Charles will answer the call.

Charles, the bloody nerve of him, is on Annual Leave to spend the Easter holidays with his son.

at this point I realise that several heads, including my manager's, are turning to me.

I do not speak Welsh.

I was brought up by a Welsh speaker, my grandmother, but given that we live in London and noone else in the family speaks Welsh, I only really picked up the most basic of family pleasantries. I can say cheers and goodnight, I can offer and order hot beverages, and I can answer the six questions people immediately ask when they find out you speak even a little bit of Welsh (the answer to all of these is as far as I can tell, yes but nobody says that. yes but it's baby talk. yes but it was a marketing scam. you know the ones)

I also have a master's degree in, amongst other things, medieval Welsh. as attention turns to me, I weigh up the possibility that the EIC needs someone to urgently translate Culhwch ac Olwen into modern English.

it seems unlikely. however, my CV says I have basic Welsh, and I need this job, so I head to the EICs desk with the thudding tread of someone bound for the gallows

further context-- 90% of my job is combing through business documents for aside phrases indicating business changes. this takes a lot of cross-referencing and close reading. I find this hard in my native language. I find it extremely hard in languages I'm fluent in. the idea of doing it in Welsh, a language where my conversation options are limited to "good morrow sir! the English advance on our left flank!" or "Mr fishy likes to swim", fills me with fathomless dread. in my head, I am writing my application to the next job.

the EIC turns a page around on the desk. "how do you pronounce this?"

I look at the word, relief beginning to sink in. Welsh is phonetic. even if I don't know this word, I can read it.

I do a double take. "Dai?"

"are you sure?" the EIC asks. "should I call Charles on his holidays just to check?"

"it's Dai," I repeat.

"it's not different if it's Welsh?"

I have absolutely no idea what she thinks the Welsh are doing to innocent vowel sounds that the English are not already doing. "it's Dai. like Dai Llewellyn."

"it's the same every time?"

"... yes"

"oh good." the EIC puts away her sheet and lets me go back to my desk.

as I sit down, the news editor at the next desk looks up. "so," he asks. "is it true that the Welsh for jellyfish is

[minkyungseokie]

第一章| Getting the Job

warnings; age gap love(R: 23, S:39, T: 50), gxg, throuple, controversial age gaps, random German and Scottish pet names,

note; first chapter! Idk how many chapters this’ll have. I know it’ll include moodboards, smaus, blurbs, and specials that you guys can request!

note2; I don't really like Bianca, so she won't be appearing a lot in this series. I don't hate her, but I don't like her either. If you have an issue, don't complain, just stop reading ❤️

Taglist is open, but only for 19 more people

note3; I decided to give her cochlear implants because I want too. She’s deaf now

fc; imleslie(on a Chinese Instagram app called Xiaohongshu)

Come Talk to Me

Driven by Destiny Masterlist | Next

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Toto Masterlist |

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

Susie huffed, looking down at the sheer amount of paperwork she had on her desk. She wanted to grab a bite to eat, but she had so much to do and she needed a lot more help than what the employees around her can provide. She pulled out her phone and texted her husband, Toto, for some advice. She was a strong independent woman, but even strong independent women need a bit of advice from their spouses sometimes.

And what she got from him was beyond helpful.

A personal assistant.

She was going to hire a personal assistant to help her around the Academy. The list of requirements wasn't long, but it was specific and the requirements that were listed were important for the assistant to have or they wouldn't work well together. Susie typed out the application furiously, making sure that all her requirements were stated clearly and made sure that whoever was filling out the application knew what they were getting into. She made sure they knew what they would be doing, an estimate about the schedule, and what she expected of whoever applied.

Susie finished up and posted it to the F1 Academy website. She also made a Instagram post about it that was a joint post with the official F1 account and the FIA account. With a sigh and a satisfied smile, Susie closed her laptop and put it in her bag.

Now all she had to do was wait for the applications to roll in. She didn’t expect too many since a lot of people were only interested in watching F1 or were, since the fans were mostly men, protesting against the F1 Academy.

Y/n looked at the link that her sister, Rachel, had sent her. Y/n had told her that she needed a new job after finishing college and Rachel had sent her a bunch of applications to different jobs. They were all just random jobs she had found on the internet, which led to where she was now.

She was staring at an application to be a personal assistant to some billionaire's wife who was the leader of some academy for girls who like driving glorified go-karts. It paid more than any of the other jobs that Rachel had sent applications for. Y/n mumbled on her thumbnail, pondering whether she should aim high and apply for the PA job or should she just go for what she knows that she would be able to get.

Y/n was deep in thought when she was startled by the loud sound of her FaceTime ringtone, which happened to be one the songs from her brother's group. "Ah, shit!" Y/n yelled, nearly falling out of her chair, "Who the fuck?!" The dark haired girl growled, grabbing the phone off the table. "Hello?" Y/n answered, "Hey, Y/n. What are you up to?" The deep voice of her younger brother exited the phone as she set it up so he could see her.

"Ah, baby brother! How are you? Loving the new comeback." Y/n said, standing up to grab a bottle of water from her fridge. "I'm great. The comeback has been good so far. Have you heard the entire album?" Felix asked, "Yeah, of course." Y/n answered, sitting at the table once more. The two of them sat and talked about her brother's most recent comeback before the conversation turned to her.

"So, what've you been up to?" Felix asked, shoving what seemed like a chip into his mouth, "When did you get those?" Y/n questioned, pointing to the box of fried potato sticks. "Ah, Chan bright them to me a bit ago." Felix answered, shoving another one in his mouth, "Well, I was thinking..."

"Uh oh."

"Shut up, Lix. Anyway, I was thinking that now I finished University, I should get a new job. One that fits my expertise better, you know? So I asked Rach to help and she sent me some applications she found online..." Y/n said, looking at the open webpage. "Yeah?" Felix spoke, urging her to continue her words, "She sent me one for some F1 Academy. It pays well and I fit the requirements, but..."

"But what?" Felix urged, "I don't know what the F1 academy is and it's in Monaco." Y/n sighed. "Where's that?" Felix questioned, "It's, like, right beside Italy, I think." Y/n answered, "Okay, so what's the issue? It sounds like a good opportunity." Felix said. "I don't want to move away from our parents and sisters." Y/n set her head on her hand, using it as a way to keep her head up, "I don't think mum and dad would want you to hold back for them. Neither would Rachel and Olivia. They would want you to go. They wanted me to go." Felix spoke up.

"Felix, that's because it was your dream. Your dream was to be an idol, so of course they weren't going to hold you back from doing it." Y/n groaned. "Y/n it doesn't matter whether it's your dream or not. It's a better job opportunity for you until you're able to start modeling the way you want." Felix suggested.

Y/n thought about it. It would be nice to make money until she finds a modeling agency that wants to sign her because waiting around for something to happen won't make her any money. She needed to pay rent and keep herself fed, plus, from what she researched about Monaco, they did not collect personal income tax or capital gains taxes. There were no property taxes in Monaco, but rental properties were taxed at 1% of the annual rent plus other applicable charges.

Monaco sounded like a dream. She really didn't think that places like that existed, but knowing that she'd keep every penny of her hard earned money sealed the deal. Y/n applied for the PA position and closed her laptop, "Okay, now to wait." Y/n let out a breath as she looked around her house.

There was no way she wouldn’t be getting the job. She was once an extremely popular Formula Two driver before she ended up quitting. She had met the likes of so many old Formula One drivers who were excited to see her race alongside them when she was ready, but she unfortunately couldn’t continue due to her mother not having enough money for her to have a seat and unfortunately no sponsers wanted to sponsor her.

Y/n stood up and threw her water bottle away. She hadn’t kept up with Formula One since she had left Formula Two and she was kind of curious how her friends from karting and F2 were doing. They were obviously doing better than her since they refused to keep in contact with her, but it’s alright. She could barely remember anything about them anyway so it didn’t matter. It did when she was younger though.

After she left and they stopped talking to her, she felt like everything was falling apart for her. She was living in the UK at the time, but decided to come back to Australia to be near her half siblings and step mother and start her career in modeling or something in the industry. Of course, her plans to model next to the likes of the Hadid sisters or other popular models, had fallen through and she had only become famous as the half sister of Felix Yongbok Lee, the freckled cutie with a deep voice of the famous Korean pop group, Stray Kids.

Y/n pulled out her phone and ordered some food, hoping that it wasn't a bad decision to put in only one application for a job that might be out of reach for her. 

Oh well.

It had been a week since Y/n had sent in the application and she had been waiting for the call back. She was sitting on her couch, staring at the large flat screen TV that was playing a Sidemen Reacts video that popped up on her feed while shoveling hwachae* into her mouth when the sound of another song from her brother's band rang through the air. Y/n picked up her phone with the spoon hanging from her lips and looked at the screen.

It was an unknown number. Y/n didn't usually answer the calls of numbers she didn't know, but something within her told her to answer it, so she did. After pausing the video, Y/n hit the green button on the screen and put the up to her ear, "Uh, hello?" Y/n answered, accent thick. "Uh, hello. Is this Miss Y/n L/n?" A sweet feminine voice that was paired with a Scottish accent, asked, "Uhm, yes. This is her. How may I help you?" Y/n asked, setting the bowl onto the table and sitting up straight. "Yes, this is about the application you put in for the PA position at the Formula One Academy." The woman said.

Y/n sat there for a hot minute before her eyes widened, "Oh! Yes, ma'am. What about it?" Y/n asked, "I wanted to call and let you know that we are interested in having you in the position, but first we need to schedule an interview. Is there a specific time that you're available?" The woman asked.

"Uh, I'm currently living in Australia and not moving to Monaco until a next month." Y/n said. Truthfully, she didn't want to being that up, but she knew that it would be suspicious if she scheduled the meeting so far away. She knew that the fact she was living in Australia could possibly ruin her chances of securing such a good job, but she just didn't have it in her to lie to the very sweet sounding woman.

"Okay, um, I'll be right back. Hang on tight." The lady said, "Okay, ma'am." Y/n said. Once the woman put her on hold, Y/n put the phone on speaker, muted herself, and continued to watch her video until she heard something from the woman on the other line. 

"Uh, hello?" The woman's voice spoke up. Y/n paused her video and quickly unmuted herself, "I'm here." Y/n spoke up. "Okay, so, we usually wouldn't do this, but we really think you'd be a good fit for the position, so I'll tell you what. Save this number. My name is Susie Wolff. Once you're moved into Monaco and finally settled down, give me a call." The woman, Susie, said. "Okay, thank you, Mrs. Wolff. I'll call you once I'm in Monaco." Y/n said, "Alright. See you then. Bye." Susie said before hanging up.

Y/n looked down at her phone with wide eyes before jumping up and onto her couch with a large smile, "I got it! I got it!" Y/n cheered loudly, jumping up and down as if she was a child on a super bouncy bed. "Holy shit, I have to let Felix know." Y/n said, jumping down from the couch and grabbing her phone, which fell out of her hand after she jumped up onto the couch. Instead of calling him, she texted him since she never knew his schedule.

누나- Noona? 아, 누구세요?- Oh? Who are you? 현진- Hyunjin 릭시에게 전화기 좀 주실래요?- Can you give Lixie the phone please

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙

Y/n quickly went to the room that held the boxes that she would use to pack away her things and smiled. It was never too early to begin packing.

Susie cheered. She had finally found the person she was looking for after a week. She was super lucky that she had decided to continue searching through the online applications rather than giving up on looking at the mediocre applications and deciding to hold a hiring fair or something.

Not only was Y/n L/n the most perfect candidate for the PA position, but she had the most relaxing and attractive voice Susie had ever heard other than her husband's.

Susie cleared her throat and looked at the work she had on her computer. She had never been as excited as she was now other than the time when she found out she was pregnant, had Jack, and started the Academy. Okay, she had been this excited before, but this is different. She can tell that she was going to be good friends with Y/n and shoe couldn't wait to work with the younger woman.

This was going to be fun

↳ ❝ [Taglist] ¡!❞

@evie-119 @exotic-iris13 @alliwantisadonut @cheyxfu @xoscar03 @sunnylikesfrogs

[petalruesimblr]

Hello everyone! This project was meant to be for my own personal use but I decided to share with the community. I'm not sure if anyone would find it useful but I mainly created this as a stepping stone to quickly advance in either the Inventor, Painter or Sculptor careers as well as complete the Descendant of da Vinci lifetime wish.

This is for Sims who wants to pursue their passion for the arts (sculpting, inventing and painting) but does not have enough funds to kickstart all three at the same time.

With this part-time, they get shorter working hours and a weekly stipend of at least §360‬/week, which can help with the bills at the start and improve the quality of their work as they increase their skills to sell their creations at a higher price.

If you are interested, click on ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures of the YCA Program Educator Part-Time Career.

YCA Program Educator (Young Creative Artisans Program)

Download Link: Sim File Share |

🔔Updated on 05/03/2024 - added code to remove ’Retire’ option

Job Offer:

Join the Young Creative Artisans Program (YCA Program) and inspire the next generation of artistic minds! Whether you're an expert painter, a skilled sculptor, an inventive genius or just passionate about the arts, we welcome all applicants to be a part of our dynamic team. From fresh graduates to retired Sims, everyone has something valuable to contribute. Apply now and let your passion for creativity shine bright in the halls of our afterschool club!

Career Details:

Career Type: Part-Time Available for: Young Adults, Adults and Elders Available Languages: English Levels: 3 Rabbit Hole: School Work Days: M, T, W, F Work Hours: 1 - 4 PM Does it have Carpool? Yes Does it have Uniforms? Yes (same uniforms used for the Political career; Business casual, refer to pictures above) Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3, Ambitions (Sculpting and Inventing Skill) File Type: Package

Career Features:

The YCA Program was initially planned as a workshop hosted by the school and scheduled for weekends but it was changed to resemble more of an afterschool club. The active Sim will teach students and this change allows you to earn more during weekdays compared to the previous setup.

You don't need the Generations expansion pack; I have only set the time to coincide with the Afterschool Club, which usually starts at 2-4 PM but the Ambitions expansion pack is required for this to work.

I have created only three levels: Lecturer, Instructor and Coordinator, and also nine custom tones that focus on increasing all three skills in each level. All descriptions for the levels, tones and metrics as well as skills required, salary, uniforms and other details are provided on the pictures above.

Please note that the Gives Lecture tone in this career is different from the Education career and I already tried using the same tone EA used but I never received any bonus of §200/lecture when I tested it so it may not work for part-times.

📣This career was made with patch 1.42 and it should work for higher patches as long as you have the latest version of NRAAS Careers Mod. Please be advised that you will need NRAAS Careers Mod for this career to show up in the game, click here.

I’m not fluent in any other languages to translate so if anyone is interested in translating this career, please don’t hesitate to send me a message here or comment on this post and will let you know the details.

I have tested this career in my game, so far it is working and all scripts are showing up. All feedback is very welcome to help me learn and improve my skills so please let me know if you experience any problems on your end and I’ll do my best to sort it as soon as possible.

[gorgeouslypink]

hii pink. i'm a little scared to post this publicly but honestly what's the worst that could happen LMAO.

anyways,, i'm in a little bit of a rough spot w the void. i've reached the point where i can confidently say that i've had enough epiphanies to know that i'm doing everything absolutely right— i know that i'm the operant power and that there's nothing beyond or above me. every morning before my 'attempts' i pep talk myself/subconscious and basically remind myself that i have no limits and there's nothing i can't achieve and all i need to do is decide. i go in so confident and completely convinced that this is 'the one',, i affirm to keep my mind focused and place my awareness on being one w myself. i see the void as a state like any other. everything about my physical body and realm is a product of my assumptions so i know i don't have to jump through hoops to separate myself from my own creations. i could go a little more into this but honestly my mindset is perfect as far as i'm concerned.

i've been like this for a few days now ?? i'm not sure how many exactly but i know it's been long enough to completely purge the old story as i never walk away from an attempt discouraged and immediately revise it. i do have a small amount of opposing thoughts from time to time but they're really weak and i shut down them down immediately with a "these thoughts are not mine and have nothing to do with me".

i'm sorry this is a lot but i just wanted to give insight on my situation before i ask why i haven't 100% tapped in yet. i completely understand if you don't have any advice for me,, i'll keep persisting no matter what.

also to anyone else who might see this; it might not mean much but please don't be discouraged by my situation !!! you and i are totally different beings so my lack of complete success has absolutely nothing to do with you,, keep pushing and don't mind me :)

Hi love! I honestly stay away from LOA asks because I didn't use LOA during my own void journey and I have not researched it enough to be at a degree of giving others advice on it, as well as my opinion that the law is very reliant of interpretation, meaning it might be understood and utilized by everyone in a different way. However, I just thought that your ask was so sweet so I'll try my best to answer. I'll start off with this quote:

"If, having read this book, having a thorough knowledge of the application and working of the law of assumption, you faithfully apply it in an effort to attain some intense desire and fail, what is the reason? If, to the question "Did you persist enough?", you can answer "Yes" – and still the attainment of your desire was not realized, what is the reason for failure?

The answer to this is the most important factor in the successful use of the law of assumption.

The time it takes your assumption to become fact, your desire to be fulfilled, is directly proportionate to the naturalness of your feeling of already being what you want to be – of already having what you desire."

-Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

During my own void journey, I struggled with the law. There are a few things that I manifested but others, I struggled with, including the void and I ended up entering without LOA. However, now as I've helped others on their void journeys, and have read more posts from all the amazing bloggers here as well Neville's work itself, I've realized that the thing that I was missing from my manifestation equation was exactly this: feeling my desire to be natural.

And how do you feel your desire to be natural?

"The essential feeling of naturalness can be achieved by persistently filling your consciousness with imagination – imagining yourself being what you want to be or having what you desire."

-Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

So the key things to take away so far is that for our desire to come into fruition, we ourselves must rest easy in the feeling of naturalness (It needs to seem natural to you). How do you do this? Be persistently imagining yourself with your desire, imagine and feel it until it feels natural to you.

This is kind of like when you keep practicing something, like a presentation over and over, pretending like you're acctually presenting. At first, you kind of forget words here and there and it just feels unnatural but as you keep practicing, doesn't it feel way more natural and eventually it is just natural and you know youre going to wing it? Same thing applies to the void. You need to keep imagining that you've already entered, with whatever scenario that may be, over and over so that entering the void and succeeding feels natural to you.

This is why I personally vouch for SATS. In SATS, you turn to your imagination and feel yourself in the feeling of the wish fufilled and keep repeating until you fall asleep, so that you fall asleep in the state of the wish fufilled, allowing for you to attain a feeling of naturalness that will guarantee your desire.

You have to understand that the basis of the law is that an assumption, though false, if persisted in, will harden into fact. Anything you can assume and create with your imagination can come true, but the way to bring your desire into fruition is by attaining the feeling of naturalness and the method I personally interpret as the best way to do do is SATS, so I recommend looking into this and this post.

I hope this helps! 💗

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Third Time’s the Charm

Captain Rex x Gen!Reader One-Shot

Summary: The war is over, and the Republic has won. Rex signed up for a matchmaking service and you’re meeting for a third date. Basically just Rex fluff and him being nervous and awkward lol.

Rating/Warnings: SFW with kissing, making out, slight suggestiveness.

Word count: 1800-2000ish

Author’s Note: This is a two in one, baby! Not only is it a submission the the Clone Matchmaking AU @tcwmatchmakingau (pls read the other fics that have been submitted!) but also a prompt from @freesia-writes ! The prompt: “kiss me again, but- mphh" from the kissing prompts list. Idk how I feel about this one but I gotta get it out of my drafts.

Please enjoy and reblogs/comments are always appreciated. I just want to kiss Rex, okay? 💕

Rex was pacing, his nerves almost completely shot. He checked the time every few seconds, subtly breathing into his palm to make sure his breath didn’t stink. He smoothed out his civvies, hoping they weren’t too wrinkly.

Shockingly to Rex, you had agreed to meet for a third date.

He was excited, yes. But also incredibly nervous.

Rex liked you.

A lot.

Rex never thought he’d get this far.

He didn’t know what to expect when he reluctantly accepted the first date match from Right to Love Matchmaking Service.

Rex had heard about it from some of his brothers but wasn’t sure it was for him.

Who would want a washed-up soldier? He also knew nothing about dating. Sure, he’s had a few quick flings and stolen kisses in the back of 79s when he was a cadet. But now, the thought of putting himself out there, looking for something serious while having strangers match him with another stranger… sounded like a recipe for disaster.

On the other hand, now that the war was over, companionship did sound nice. And a few of his brothers have had success with the service…

He continuously tossed around the idea, a few times half-filling out the Holonet application before deleting it, the fear of the unknown getting the best of him.

Rex even walked by the building once, Right to Love flashing in neon lights, almost stepping inside before his nerves sent him in the other direction.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, when Fives and Echo invited him to a “boy's night out” for drinks, that he was convinced.

Or more like the alcohol did the convincing for him.

One drink turned into two, then three, and somehow the conversation switched to the matchmaking service.

Both Fives and Echo had girlfriends now, having met through Right to Love.

Rex has met them a few times, and they did seem like good partners, and Fives and Echo were happier than he’d ever seen them.

He was proud of them for moving on from the war and finding happiness. Rex couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy sometimes, wondering if he’ll ever get to experience that, too.

Rex mentioned how he’s been thinking about signing up for Right to Love, and that’s how they persuaded him to fill out the digital application right there with them at the bar.

“Aw c’mon Rex!” Fives clapped Rex’s shoulder. “You should try it out. Anyone is lucky to have you!”

Fives took a large swig of beer, slammed it down, and pulled out his datapad.

“The application is easy. I don’t know how they do it, but they work some kind of magic. My girl is perfect, the woman of my dreams. I don’t think I would have ever found someone like her without them!” Fives shoved his datapad over to Rex, wiggling his eyebrows. “You don’t even have to go in person. Let us help you, vod!”

A few more sips of liquid courage later, Rex was pressing submit on his application while Fives and Echo cheered him on.

The rowdy night continued, and Rex quickly forgot all about it.

Rex didn’t remember he followed through until the next morning when a notification chimed on his terminal.

He woke from his deep sleep, still recovering from the night before, reading the message with blurry eyes and a headache.

Dear Rex,

Thank you for choosing Right to Love Matchmaking Service, where everyone deserves the right to companionship!

We have received your application and are processing your submission.

A matchmaking representative will be reaching out to you shortly. Have a wonderful day!

Rex’s brain almost short-circuited, the hazy memory of Fives and Echo helping him fill out the form coming back to him.

Those kriffing di’kuts!

Rex panicked momentarily, not sure if he was ready for this. But he thought of how happy his brothers were, and maybe it was finally time for him to step out of his comfort zone.

Rex commanded battalions alongside Jedi in life-or-death situations, and yet here he was, afraid to go on one singular date.

To Rex’s surprise, the whole process was easier than expected. The representative that reached out to him was nice, eased some of his worries, and answered all the questions he had. At the end of the conversation, the representative said they already had a match for him.

You.

To his even greater surprise, your first date went fine.

Fantastic, even.

Rex was an anxious mess leading up to meeting you in person, but you were kind, patient, compassionate, everything he would want in a partner.

It was almost like this matchmaking service did its job.

The next morning after your first date, you comm’d him asking to meet again, saying you had a good time.

Rex responded immediately with a resounding yes, hoping he wasn’t coming off as too desperate.

Your second date was even better than the first, learning more about one another, and you talked for hours.

You both hadn’t realized how late it had gotten and completely lost track of time. The restaurant you met at for lunch was now finishing up the dinner rush, you two the last ones in the eatery.

Rex walked you back to your apartment, and you hugged him as you said good night.

Maker, he couldn’t stop thinking about the hug. How warm and soft you felt against him. How he could smell the faint floral aroma of your shampoo. How your eyes shined as you whispered good night. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, Rex was completely smitten.

He was feeling the pressure now, waiting for you to meet him in front of the Coruscant Botanical Gardens where you planned to meet for your date.

Rex was low-key fretting about what came next. Another hug? Maybe holding your hand? A kiss?

Rex swallowed thickly.

He wanted to take things slow and didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything.

If a quick hug from you made him feel this good, he couldn’t even imagine what a kiss would be like.

He could feel his palms begin to sweat. Before he could spiral anymore, he heard his name.

You were walking toward him, a large smile on your face.

“Hey, Rex!” You waved, stepping up to him. You stopped, hesitating for a moment. Little did Rex know, you were having the same thoughts. Maker, he’s so handsome, I want to kiss him! I hope he wasn’t weirded out by the hug from a few nights ago…but he agreed to meet me again so I guess I didn’t scare him off…

“I’ve lived on Coruscant my whole life, and never been to the gardens. Funny how that happens sometimes.” You laughed.

Rex nodded stiffly.

“I’ve never been here, either. But I’m glad we can experience it for the first time together.”

You blushed at his words, Rex’s ears feeling hot at his admission.

You smiled again. “Me too, Rex. Shall we?”

The gardens were huge and seemingly endless, growing flora from hundreds of planets. Rex was able to point out some, recognizing them from the war. He was well-traveled because of it.

You enjoyed hearing him speak of his past, his brothers, and the sometimes downright insane feats he was involved with during the war.

Your conversation was always easy, like you’ve known one another for years. You couldn’t believe how perfect he was and how comfortable you felt around him.

Was it too good to be true, though?

You wandered for a while, keeping up conversation. You eventually sat on a bench in a massive greenhouse, admiring the lush greenery around you.

You were silent for a few moments, Rex wondering if this was his chance.

He wanted to kiss you. He was going to ask you. He was a soldier, no, a Captain, dammit! He should have the courage to do this!

Rex took in a breath, knowing he had to get over his anxiety and just take the leap. It was now or never.

You heard Rex’s inhale and you felt worry stir in your gut. Here we go, he’s going to tell me he doesn’t want to meet again. The classic “it has been really fun but…”

“I’ve…enjoyed our dates.” Rex turned to you. “And I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. So, thank you.”

You raised your eyebrows, meeting his gaze, surprised at his comment.

“Rex, you don’t have to thank me. I’ve been enjoying them too. I like you a lot.” You fidgeted a little, blushing. Maybe I didn’t screw things up!

You took your own breath, continuing.

“I didn’t know what to expect when I signed up for the dating service…I went on some bad dates a while back and was kind of fed up with it all, you know? But I’m glad I took the chance on you.”

Rex felt some confidence rush through his veins. “Really?” He asked.

“You’re easy to talk to, kind, a good listener. Not to mention a complete gentlemen. It’s hard to find that.” Your cheeks were hot at your own words, suddenly too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

“I like you a lot, too.” Rex’s voice was low, and you felt something brush against your hand on the bench, looking down, and saw Rex’s hand barely touching yours.

You moved your hand closer, and Rex took your hand in his. You thought your heart might leap straight out of your chest. His hand was calloused, yet warm. Comforting.

“You’re brilliant, remarkable. Not to mention the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. I…I’m so happy I met you.”

“Oh, Rex…you mean that?” You’ve never had a man say those words to you with such sincerity.

“More than anything in my life. Can…can I ask you something?” Rex was almost whispering. You nodded, eyes wide, wondering what he wanted to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” Rex was gazing right at you, his heart pounding in his ears.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, entwining your fingers with his. You couldn’t keep the grin from spreading on your face, and Rex saw how your features lit up like the Tattooine suns.

“Yes…Rex. I thought you’d never ask.”

Rex could see the colors of the bright flowers that surrounded you in your eyes as he leaned toward you.

Rex stopped centimeters from your lips, bringing his free hand to tenderly cup the side of your face. Your breath hitched at the gentle gesture, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss as he shyly brushed his lips against yours.

For Rex, the world melted away. Did he die and go to heaven? Because that’s how he felt when your hand moved to his shoulder, your unbelievably soft lips pressing back into his in a chaste kiss.

All of his anxieties dissipated, forgetting why was so nervous about this date in the first place, all he could think about was you and how lucky he was in this moment.

You pulled away after what could have been hours, your eyes hooded, looking up at him, smiling, realizing you were still holding hands.

“Rex…” The way his name fell from your lips, husky and almost sensual, ignited a fire in him. He wanted to hear it again and again.

Rex released his hand from yours, bringing it to your other cheek, cradling your head with both his hands now with such reverence you thought you might faint.

“Was…was that ok?” He murmured, wanting more, but didn’t want to push your boundaries in any way.

“Yes…kiss me again, Rex. Pleas-mph!” Rex quickly slid his mouth against yours, still cradling your head as your arms wrapped around him, your words cut short by his lips.

The kiss was deep, passionate, just like him. You sighed against his mouth, Rex using the opportunity to sweetly lick your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance.

You eagerly obliged, excited by his newfound confidence. His tongue entered your mouth, eliciting another satisfied sigh from you and a groan from Rex. Your body to trembled against his in fervor, feeling his muscles flex under your hands.

Your lungs began to burn, needing oxygen but not wanting this kiss to end.

Your mouths moved as one, gripping one another like you were the last two people in the Galaxy.

You let out a small whine as Rex pulled away, both your lips swollen from the intensity, your faces flushed and your bodies on fire.

“Wow…” was all you could mutter, as Rex’s hands fell from your flushed face. “That was…”

“Incredible?” He mumbled. You nodded in agreement, leaning into him. Rex wrapped his arm around you, still seated on the bench.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since we first met,” Rex admitted, his thumb slowly caressing your arm.

You were quickly turning into mush seeing this new, romantic side of Rex emerge.

“Me too.” You couldn’t help but giggle, giddy at what had just taken place.

Rex brought you into him, embracing you in a hug, silently thanking his brothers for making him take the plunge and sign up for this dating service.

“I think we’ve seen enough plants for one day. Want to come back to my place?” You asked, nuzzling against his chest. “We could make dinner and watch a Holomovie?”

“I’d love to,” Rex answered as you looked up at him. “I’d really love to.” Rex hasn’t been sure about much since the war ended, trying to find purpose and meaning in a new Galaxy.

He was sure about one thing now, and it was you.

Taglist: @pb-jellybeans @dukeoftheblackstar @king-chaos-world @523rdrebel @wanderer-six @the-cantina

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Respect or Privacy (2)

Tucker is excited for everything about college, even having a roommate for the first time. At least, he is until his roommate Danny turns out to be standoffish and a little bit of a dick. Whatever. It's a disappointment, but he'll survive. The same might not be said of Danny.

My first fic for Phic Phight '24 (part 2)! Prompts used were:

College AU where the characters don't meet until college and Danny has to hide his halfa status from his dorm roommate (your choice which character that is) [from @shadowfaerieammy], and Tucker fucked up. Hard. But it’s like, how the hell was he supposed to know that hacking the federal government was a bad idea? [from @lexosaurus]

You can also read it on AO3

Chapter 2: Find Out (Chapter 1)

[No warnings apply (I think)]

Tucker applied to switch roommates right away, but apparently that whole process took a lot longer than he would have hoped. Or else his request had gotten lost. He brought it up to the dorm supervisor a couple of times, only to get vague, unhelpful answers and bid for him to be patient and wait his turn. In the meanwhile, the two of them largely ignored each other. Tucker, a little bitterly, and Danny a little guiltily.

By the end of the semester, the roommate switch still hadn't gone through, and Danny and Tucker still had hardly said a full sentence to each other since that fight. They both thought about it every time they saw each other, but it felt far too awkward to bring it up again now.

While Tucker was Packing up to go home for winter vacation, he noticed that Danny wasn't doing the same, but he didn't bother to ask why. When he returned from winter break for the new semester—still rooming with Danny, despite sending numerous emails over the break to ensure his roommate change application was actually being processed—it didn't look like Danny had ever left.

Whatever. That wasn't Tucker's problem. He had more important things to worry about than his lame roommate's pathetic social life.

The end of winter break meant the start of the spring semester, and Tucker was signed up for a cyber-security class that he was really looking forward to. Normally, freshman didn't have the prerequisites to take it, but he'd filled his first semester with all the necessary credits so that he could sign up.

On the first day of class, Tucker walked in to see a list written on the whiteboard. Curious, he took out his laptop and looked up some of the items on it. It looked like a list of databases. Some of them, Tucker had heard of, and some he hadn't. He wasn't sure what they all had in common, or why the professor had written them up on the board, but he assumed that question would be answered once the class actually started, and he assumed correctly.

After the Professor had gone over the syllabus for half an hour, asking that they hold all questions until he was done with his explanation, he pointed to the list on the board.

"Some of you may have noticed this list of databases on the whiteboard, and you're probably wondering why it's there," the professor said. "These are all high-security databases, some of them are privately owned, some are federally owned, or state-owned, or various combinations of all three. All of them are so confident in their security that they offer substantial monetary compensation to anyone able to hack into them and point out the holes in their security.

"As an optional extra-credit assignment, you may choose a database to attempt to hack into," he continued. "If you succeed, in addition to being able to pay for your entire college career, you will automatically pass this class. Your actual letter grade will be determined by the quality and quantity of work you turn in, but you will be guaranteed at least a C as long as you succeed before the end of the semester.

"Again, this is optional. You don't have to do it. There will be no academic consequences for failure, but depending on which database you choose, there may be legal consequences, so choose wisely and don't bite off more than you can chew."

Oh, yeah. Not only would Tucker be taking this extra-credit opportunity, but he would be going big. He was gonna find out which of these databases offered the biggest reward and he was going to tear it to shreds. This was gonna be fun.

"I'll tell you now," the professor warned, "that in my entire twenty-year career teaching this course, only three students have ever managed to cash in on this offer, so don't feel too bad if you... can't hack it."

A round of groans and laughter circulated the classroom. Tucker was among those laughing, though he could understand the groans, as well. He enjoyed a good bad pun, but it was still pretty bad.

After his classes were over, Tucker looked up every database on the list, putting in the time, and doing to research, to figure out how to get the most bang for his buck, and it turned out the one that offered the biggest payout for a successful hack was a privately-run federal government database for an organization called the G.I.W., which was so secretive that Tucker didn't even know what G.I.W. stood for. But he was gonna find out—just like he was gonna find a way right through their digital security system.

Hacking was what Tucker was good at. It was why he'd been so intent on taking this cyber-security class in the first place. However tough the G.I.W.'s security was, FryerTuck was tougher.

A pleasant side-effect of Tucker's extra-credit project, since he worked on it in basically every spare moment between classes and homework, he pretty much always had an excuse to ignore Danny. Danny would take one look at all the code and computer jargon on Tucker's screen and not even say hello. He didn't ask what it was, or what Tucker was trying to do, just left him alone, probably grateful that Tucker was leaving him alone, too.

The G.I.W. security was strong, but Tucker wasn't the type to give up, not on something like this. He just kept hacking away at it. He stayed up late, woke up early, skipped lunch, or ate one-handed. He worked on it for over a month, then two months, until finally, at 3am on a Saturday, in a Mountain Dew-fueled haze, with red-rimmed eyes and aching fingers, he finally found it—the flaw in the armor.

Once he had that, it was only a matter of time before he full broke through, and two days later, he was in.

G.I.W. stood for Ghost Investigation Ward, and the first thing that popped up when Tucker was through the final firewall was the organization's most wanted list. A list of ghosts. Number one was a ghost called Danny Phantom who looked strangely familiar in a way Tucker couldn't quite place and ultimately shook off. After Phantom was a ghost called Vortex, then The Wisconsin Ghost, which was a stupid name. Tucker didn't bother to read the whole list. He didn't actually care about ghosts, he just wanted his reward money.

He used the information on the database to find the contact information for the head of the organization, someone code-named 'Operative Alpha', another stupid name, and sent him an email which explained who he was, detailed exactly how he'd broken into their secure database, and explained why he'd done it. That done, he finally went to bed, expecting a response from Operative Alpha when he awoke.

What he did not expect was to be woken up at seven in the morning after such a late night by a pounding on the door of his room.

"Danny, can you get that?" he moaned, covering his head with a pillow.

He heard Danny grumble something unintelligible and roll over in bed. He could hardly blame the guy. There was a reason Tucker didn't sign up for any classes earlier than 10am. He'd made that mistake last semester and had no plans to repeat it.

Whoever was knocking banged on the door again. "Mr. Foley!"

"Ha!" Danny barked, as triumphantly as he could do so when he was still half-asleep.

Tucker groaned again, but dragged himself out of bed to open the door.

Standing there was a pair of large, burly men in white suits and dark sunglasses. Tucker felt very under dressed in his cheeto-dusted pajama pants and cheesy slogan t-shirt, but that feeling quickly passed, since he was really way too tired to care.

"Mr. Foley?"

"Yup."

"I am Operative L, and this is my partner, Operative U," said the man on the left. "We're with the G.I.W., and we're here to ask a few questions and verify some things you communicated to our superior, Operative Alpha. May we enter?"

"Uh... may you come back at a more reasonable hour?" Tucker asked, trying and failing to blink away the sleep in his eyes. "Maybe in the afternoon? Sorry, but I'm way too tired to answer questions or verify shit right now. I'm not gonna be any good to you until I put in a few more hours between the sheets—sleeping, I mean. I'm not blowing you guys off to fuck."

The two guys looked at each other for a moment before nodding.

"Very well, your terms are acceptable," Operative U stated, very formally. "We will return at exactly 1300 hours."

"That's 1pm," Operative L clarified. "If you're not here at that time, we will hunt you down and show no mercy."

"Uh... understood?"

"Good."

With that, the two operatives turned and left, leaving Tucker standing confused in the doorway behind them. He yawned and shrugged and closed the door.

The instant the latch closed, Danny shot up out of bed, standing in a defensive position in the center of the room and glaring furiously at Tucker.

"Woah, what—"

"What's your association to the Guys in White?" he demanded.

"What, those guys?" Tucker asked.

"Are you working for them?" Danny kept going, sounding halfway desperate and halfway furious. "What do you know?"

"What are you talking about? 'Am I working with them?' Why would I be working with them? What for?"

"Why is the Ghost Investigation Ward knocking on our door asking for you then?"

"Because I hack their database, and now they owe me reward money?"

"What?"

"That's the extra-credit I've been working on the last couple months," Tucker explained. "The professor put a list of databases that offered reward money to anyone who could hack them and show them the flaws in their security. If we manage to collect on any of 'em, he said we'd automatically pass his class. I hacked the G.I.W., so they came to verify shit before they pay me off."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, that's it," Tucker affirmed. No matter how tired he was, though, something still struck him as distinctly odd about this conversation. "Hey, Danny... how do you know about the Ghost Investigation Ward?"

Danny froze like a deer caught in headlights. Tucker could almost see the hundreds of panicked thoughts and potential excuses racing through his head, but what finally came out was:

"I... don't?"

"Oh, you can't play dumb anymore," Tucker denied. "I couldn't even figure out what G.I.W. stood for until I was already into their secure database, and you just casual name-dropped them during your random accusation. Spill."

Again, Danny froze. He looked like he was seriously considering whether he could run. He even glanced to the window like they weren't on the fourth floor with no fire escape on their window. In the end, he swallowed anxiously, squirmed under Tucker's scrutinizing gaze, and bullshitted.

"They uh... they came to Amity Park a lot," he said. "You know, to hunt ghosts. So it's not the first time I've run into them."

But Tucker wasn't interested in a half-truth. He was done with Danny's bullshit and he was going to get to the bottom of this, right now.

"Uh-huh. And why are you so scared of 'em, then?" he asked. "I saw all the ghost hunting shit you keep in that drawer" — Danny started to protest, but Tucker just raised his volume and kept talking over him — "I know you told me to butt out, but fuck that. You hunt ghosts too, or you did, so why are you so freaked about other ghost hunters."

"They're... really bad at it?"

"They're dedicated enough that it took me—me, over two months to break through their security," Tucker said. "Somehow I doubt that a group that serious about what they do is 'really bad' at their main objective. Quit trying to bluff me. Quit beating around the bush. Enough is enough, man. Just tell me the truth."

"I... I can't."

"Oh, then I can just call those guys back and have them tell me—"

"NO!"

Tucker was taken aback by the intensity of Danny's shout.

"So fess up, then," he insisted.

"Fine!"

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and took a deep breath.

"Fine," he repeated, softer. "The truth is, I'm... I'm...."

"Yeah?" Tucker encouraged.

"I'm a ghost," he finished finally, his voice softer than Tucker had ever heard it, but still audible.

"You're...." Tucker frowned, not really sure what to say. "Okay, you seem super serious about this, so I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I've been living with you for like, six months now, and I think I would have noticed if you were a ghost, so what's goin' on here?"

Danny sighed, went to the window to look out and then make sure the curtain was closed all the way. Then, he looked Tucker dead in the eye... and changed.

Thin, white rings traveled up and down his body, wrapping around his limbs and torso like threads of pure light, and when they disappeared, the person standing there wasn't Tucker's lame, human roommate, Danny Fenton. It was the Ghost Investigation's number one most Wanted, Danny Phantom.

"The reason I know the Guys in White is because they've been trying to destroy me since I was fourteen," Danny said, his voice steady and surprisingly cool. "They refuse to acknowledge that ghost are sapient beings, and unique individuals, and not all of us are evil, so they've been trying to wipe me off the face of the earth. All I want is to just exist... peacefully. But if they find me here, it's game over—and you just brought them right to our door.

Ohhh shit. Tucker had fucked up. Hard. But how the hell was he supposed to know that hacking the federal government was a bad idea? It had seemed like a perfectly good idea when he learned he could get four million dollars out of it. Now, learning that they might kill (re-kill?) his roommate, not so much.

But how on Earth was he supposed to know it would turn out like this? Danny never talked to him, or told Tucker anything about himself. He never mentioned ghosts, or his opinion of them. He never even bothered to ask what Tucker was hacking the last two months.

"Well, fuck," Tucker said.

"Well, fuck indeed," Danny agreed.

"You know, if you'd just been up-front with me about this shit from the beginning this never would have happened," Tucker insisted. "I gave you every chance, but no! You didn't want to be friends. You'd rather the two of us live together in silence for the whole year. All you had to do was ask me about what I was working on and you could have told me not to mess with it. You had two whole months of opportunities, Danny."

"I thought it was more dangerous for me to tell you!" Danny argued. "The day we met you brought up 'evil ghosts', and I thought there was no way I could ever trust you if that's what you thought! How was I supposed to know you'd back me up, huh? How would I know that?"

"I was joking!" Tucker all but screamed.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up!" shouted someone from the dorm next door. "It's Saturday! Why are you even up this early!?"

"Sorry!" Tucker called back. Then he lowered his volume and hissed, "I was joking! I'm from fucking Elmerton! You think I actually give a single shit about ghosts? No!"

"And I was supposed to know that, how?" Danny hissed right back. "I've been hearing about how all ghosts are evil and cruel my whole life from my fucking ghost hunter parents. When I hear people say ghosts are evil I'm always gonna assume they mean it rather than take a chance and get shot. I have enough bullet wounds."

Tucker couldn't respond to that. He had no idea what to say. He pursed his lips and nodded. Took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Alright, fine," he said at length. "So maybe we both beefed it a little. Enough about how we fucked up, let's try to fix it."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Danny asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, they don't know yet that my roommate is their most wanted," Tucker pointed out. "And after they talk with me, they'll have no reason to come back here. As long as you're out of the dorm at one o'clock, and stay out until they leave, you're in the clear."

"How will I know when they're gone?"

"You've got a phone, don't you?" Tucker pointed out, rolling his eyes. "Gimme your number and I'll text you."

Danny hesitated, his eyes darting to his desk, where his phone was still charging on the surface.

"Oh, come on man, you can't seriously still be wound up about not wanting friends, can you? I already know your secret, and I'm trying to help you. Just give me your number."

"What if you give it to the Guys in White?"

"Dude, I'm not gonna do that," Tucker said, as seriously as he could manage. "If you'd accepted any of my invitations when we first moved into the dorms, you'd know me well enough to know that I'd never betray a friend."

"We're not friends," Danny mumbled.

"We are now."

Danny's head snapped up to look Tucker in the eye, and Tucker could tell he knew it was the truth.

"Alright," Danny said.

He gave Tucker his phone number, and they both went back to bed and crashed hard for another few hours. Danny made himself scarce at around twelve-thirty, Tucker talked with the G.I.W. and accepted a check for a cool four million that would cover tuition and then some. And when they were gone, he sent Danny a text to let him know.

The plan went off without a hitch, and for the rest of the school year, Tucker had a best friend to hang out with—even if that friend was still pretty standoffish to other people. He found himself thankful that the school never did finish processing his request to switch roommates, and when they left for summer break, both he and Danny requested that they be roommates again for sophomore year. They could only hope that that request would actually be processed sometime in the next two months.

[calciumdeficientt]

BUCKY HCS

BUCKY OH MY GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHD. IF BUCKY HAS NO FANS IM DEAD I LOVE THAT WHITE BOY. I cried while writing these. Idk what that says about me but it definitely says something.

BUCKY PASTEUR HCS

Starting off on a very strong foot, I’m gonna explain the ‘Bucky incident’ that I mentioned in my Thad hcs post (go read that btw). So basically the nerds were playing Star Wars on the steps outside the library, with those very sturdy, screen accurate lightsabers that all the cosplayers have, and poor Bucky, bless his little heart, got far too invested in the game, lunged forwards with his lightsaber, slipped on a piece of wet moss on the steps and fell. His lightsaber broke his fall and he sort of half-impaled himself on the tip of it. He didn’t break any skin or anything, but the sturdy PVC plastic broke two of his ribs and ruptured his appendix. Poor kid.

Head builder and painter of the G&G mini figures, in his free time you can usually find him underneath Dragon’s Wing in their little lair, with one of those magnifying headset things on, painting away. He has a keen eye for detail, and it really shows. He takes great care in studying his friends character sheets and making sure the paining is reflective of their personalities, even down to the bases. He’s got great technique, from dry-brushing for shading, to colour theory and palette matching, down to hand sculpting pieces when official G&G merchandise doesn’t suffice. Sometimes he goes upstairs to get guidance from Zack but nine times out of ten its his own handiwork.

Very happy go lucky despite being beaten within an inch of his life every day. That insane amount of bullying is enough to make anyone a nihilist, but I think Bucky always finds a way to put a positive spin on everything and. That is just… so commendable. He’s a stronger man than I I’ll tell you that. He’s such a sweet kid, how could you want to pick on him when Earnest is RIGHT THERE.

Speaking of Earnest, he really really hated the whole concept of the Paparazzi mission, especially publicly showing those indecent images of Mandy. He couldn’t even fathom the idea of showing the small ones off as blackmail. He hates the jocks just as much as the next nerd, and the way Mandy treats Beatrice isn’t exactly tasteful, but he’s emotionally mature enough to know that not only was plastering those posters all over town fucking creepy, it was also a CRIME.

Does super well in Hattrick’s math class but absolutely DESPISES his way of teaching it. Hattrick has a very black and white view of maths. It’s either right or wrong, and the only way to solve problems is it do it is his way, any other solution is blatantly wrong. Bucky thinks it’s such a boring and narrow way to look at a subject that’s just bursting with possibilities. In his free time he researches pure mathematics, he thinks its such a wonderful show of the fact that maths isn’t just about practical application, but the beauty of figuring out the logical consequences of basic mathematic principles when applied to abstract objects. He finds it so wonderfully interesting.

He loves his granny so much dude (I may or may not be sobbing over this right now he’s such a fucking cutie patootie.) he goes over to her house on the weekends and has tea. She doesn’t understand half of what her grandson says but she’s happy to know that he’s growing up into a nice polite young man, and is doing well at school. He’s also kind enough to help her around the house with all the chores she has trouble doing during the week. Taking her trash out, cleaning her kitchen surfaces and vacuuming up. He’s her helpful little chipmunk, even if he’s nowhere near as chubby as he used to be when he was a baby.

[leumasme]

You can now get an Ad-Free, Tumblr-Live-Free version of the Tumblr Android app

I've been writing some Patches for the Tumblr app in the ReVanced framework, and they just got released in the ReVanced patches Pack, so you can install them too! No computer is needed, and everything is open source, meaning anyone can look at the code and verify that it's not malicious.

Patches

Disable Dashboard Ads (Currently not perfect - doesn't block blazed and doesn't block Tumblr's own "Sponsored" posts that aren't real ads, like the ones that are just a cat sitting in front of a Tumblr logo)

Disable Tumblr Live (Fully and forever!)

Disable "Enable notifications when this person posts" popup

Disable "You can send gifts to people" bubble

Disable the update checker (Tumblr annoys you to update if you're on an old version, who knew?)

Maybe more to come. Please suggest new ones!

Installation

I'm not good at writing beginner-friendly guides, so this one might be hard to understand if you're not a somewhat experienced user - there's already a bunch of guides for ReVanced, and they have a support discord where you can ask for help. I encourage anyone to write a better guide for this.

First we need to download and install the ReVanced Manager. You can get it here: https://revanced.app/ Just download and install the APK.

Just like with any android app download that doesn't use the Google play store (or similar stores), you'll get some warnings that the file could be dangerous (since it's an app installer package), and you'll likely have to give your browser or File explorer permissions to install apps.

Next, we'll need a Tumblr APK to patch it. We usually can't use your already installed Tumblr since it's a Split-APK, and ReVanced doesn't really support those. Get one from APKMirror (preferred) or alternatively from APKPure (often doesn't have all app versions). Make sure you're selecting the download to a normal APK, not a Split-APK/XAPK. Also probably don't download a version that has alpha or beta in the name.

If you downloaded the Tumblr apk, don't install it. Open the ReVanced Manager we installed earlier, click Patcher->Select an Application->Storage (bottom right)->Pick the Tumblr APK you just downloaded.

Now you can de-select patches if you want, but the default is fine, it includes all patches made for Tumblr. Then click Patch in the bottom right and wait for it to finish. Before you install the patched Tumblr, you'll have to uninstall the old Tumblr since they have the same package name but our patched one isn't signed by the Google Play Store. So uninstall the Tumblr app now (and probably save/reblog this post if you're on your phone right now so you don't lose it), then switch back to the Manager and click Install to install the patched app.

Yay, now you have patched Tumblr. Everything should work as normal otherwise. If you're reading this in the (far) future and Tumblr ever updated the app and broke the patches and no one updated them to work with newer versions, you can use an old Tumblr APK and it should keep working forever. Right now, I am using v31.5.0.110 and everything is working fine.

Tell me (asks/dms/rbs) if anything is broken or you have more ideas for patches I could add. I have like 10 followers so no one is gonna see this without reblogs. Oki bye!

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

Helloooo If someone already asked this u can just ignore but how you talk to your deities????? thank youuu

I can't find the post I originally answered something similar, sooooo I'll just answer this again!

I personally get feelings, words, images just sort of... floating around in my head sometimes? I don't know how to explain it other than a thought that clearly isn't mine. However, this is NOT the average experience as far as I'm aware and it's not something that you need to do to be valid as a witch!

As for methods of communication I use, it's not just that! The fancy ones are what I call "direct communication" (the above) or meditation/what I think probably counts as astral projection or astral travel???? I'm like 80% sure that's what it is.* But I also use tarot/oracle cards, which honestly are my favorite. You can use just about any divination tool at your disposal to communicate with your deities/guides! I've seen friends use pendulums, bone reading, literally flipping a goddamn coin for yes/no questions- there's a ton of ways to do it! I even tell my deities that if they want to use my playlists shuffle feature to throw a song at me they can. (This, I think, works best because it's a BIG playlist with lots of variety.)

*please be aware that I don't know much about astral projection and probably won't be able to answer a ton of questions on it. I can explain my own personal experiences and am happy to do so, but absolutely cannot say that they'd be applicable to anyone else.

[bitchesgetriches]

Hello! I'm slightly embarrassed to admit it, but I'm 25 and I've never had a job. For context (and I'm sorry if it sounds strange), I was raised in a cult. I was never prepared for life beyond it and don't know how to go about getting a job. Because I was never really allowed to talk to anyone outside the cult, I'm afraid I'll come off weird in an interview and like I don't know what I'm doing (because I don't).

Luckily, I've been able to learn a few things from the internet, but none of it deals with my specific situation. I feel like I'm floundering and don't know how to actually start. Every time I go to put in a fast food application, I get in my head with too many questions and shut down.

Although I am aware that it's mostly nervousness, I am also still so confused about the whole process and I'd love some advice on how to successfully get a job if you have any tips.

Some specific questions I have: when I go to an interview, do I tell one of the employees I'm there for an interview or is that wrong? Am I just overthinking it too much and it'll be straightforward when the time comes? What is the best way to answer interview questions without leading on that I've never had experience in a work environment? Or is it actually better to be clear I have no experience but am still willing to give my all? In a similar thread, if an application doesn't ask about experience does it actually matter to the employer? What is the best way to answer the tell me about yourself question when you've never really done anything? Or any of the typical interview questions for that matter? How do I make sure I'm getting a good job and not being taken advantage of because of my lack of experience about the world?

Thank you for taking the time to read this! I really appreciate it!

Holy shit, sweetie, we are SO GLAD YOU'RE OK. Being raised in a cult is an extremely scary and traumatic experience, and we're just so impressed that you've made it this far. We're proud of you and rooting for you.

I don't think we're 100% qualified to give advice to someone in your particular situation. But we do know someone who is. There are support groups and nonprofits all over the country that provide everything from weekly meetings to no-cost group housing to career counseling and life skills training to people who have escaped from cults. The one I'm familiar with is based in Boston, but I think you should start your search for career counseling at Spiritual Abuse Resources. They can direct you to help in your area.

A lot of your specific questions about getting a job we address in the articles listed here:

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Getting a Job, Raise, or Promotion

We're rooting for you, honey. Good luck on your journey.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi,

Do you have any tips on how to write a character who has a bond with a symbiote?

Both help each other to survive, as character A (the human) was severely wounded and character B (the symbiote, a spirit) heals these wounds and keeps them from 'opening up again'. In return, they share a body, which keeps Character B alive as he receives the necessary nutrients to build up energy. In my mind, the whole thing goes in the direction of Venom from Marvel or Justice from Dragon Age.

My biggest problem is to write the whole thing so that it doesn't sound too absurd and to include character B's thoughts or just to remind myself that they are there. Do you have any tips or resources for this?

Searching the internet doesn't bring up anything for me.

Thank you for your time and kind regards.

Writing a Symbiote and Host

This is outside of my wheelhouse as far as personal writing experience goes, however I have a few directions I can point you into for research, as well as some general advice and parallel advice.

Symbiotes fall under the "body and host" trope, and there are a whole bunch of subtropes under that umbrella. I'm not exactly sure which one your story would fall under, however here is the entry at TV Tropes along with the subtrope list at the bottom. Just reading through the the trope entry and the applicable-sounding subtropes can give you a lot of helpful information. You might also read up on the Two Beings, One Body trope as well as the Sharing a Body trope--and look through the examples of both--as this can give you some ideas/information about how to portray it believably and in a way that doesn't let you (or the reader) forget the symbiote is there.

And my feeling on that last bit--making sure the symbiote isn't forgotten and including their thoughts--would be that you'll want to convey those via internal dialogue between the two characters. What's leaping into my mind here is Marvel's Moon Knight if you've seen it. It's not a symbiote situation, but I'm just thinking of the way Marc speaks to Steven (the "host") inside his head, and Steven verbally responds. So, they have a conversation but anyone witnessing can only hear Steven's side of it, obviously, since Marc's end is inside Steven's head. You could also just have them communicate via fully internal dialogue, so the conversation takes place entirely via thought. Either way, having this sort of running dialogue between them allows you to keep the symbiote present in the story.

There are all kinds of devices you could use to give this a relevant framework. Ultimately, you can assign the symbiote a character role that they can fulfill while they're recharging inside the host's body. For example, they could be a mentor... like let's say your character is afraid of public speaking--which advancement in their job requires--so they feel stuck where they're at. But the symbiote, by way of being in their head and experiencing what they're experiencing, coaches them to do better and helps them get over their fear. They could be the comic relief if you want your story to have a bit of levity. Or they could be the foil to the host character. They could even just fulfill a sort of sidekick role, but giving them a role will help give them a place in the story outside of just being stuck in your character's head.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[school-of-roses]

☆･✧Introduction to Writing a Professional Email✧･☆

"Every professor secretly wants to be Ms. Frizzle." -@myshoeisonthewrongfoot

Introduction to Writing a Professional Email

Writing an email is one skill that you will most likely need in your professional life either as a student or in your time in the workforce. However, you can also use these skills to write emails to experts in any given field when you have questions among other things. The applications are endless.

Rule One: Don’t Panic

If you are writing to someone for information there is a very solid chance that the response you are going to get is going to be something like “yeah sure -sent from my iphone 11:35:18 PM” if it isn’t closer to an automatic message informing you that the person is out of the office until a specific date.Those who care don’t matter and those who matter don’t care. If your grammar is coherent enough to be understandable and cohesive, they are going to care more about the content of your email than the structure and soundness of the message. So fear not, internet denizen, you are probably gonna kill it. Being professional, polite, and persistent will get you very far in most things, and this is no exception.

Subject Line

Whatever anyone tells you, your job here is to NOT get caught by someone’s spam filter. Summarize what you’re looking for in about 3 to 5 words, and you should be good. I generally like to start with [What is it?] [Specific topic it pertains to.] Want to ask a professional about how many different kinds of tigers there are? 

Subject: Question about Tiger Species Statistics.

The [What is it?] helps give them an idea of what the email is about, and the specificity helps both keep you out of the spam filter and makes you sound purposeful.

Template

Writing an email isn’t particularly difficult once you get the hang of it, but when you’re first starting out, don’t be scared to use a template. Taking some of the thinking out of the process can do wonders for making you both comfortable as well as getting you most of the way there without having to struggle.  No one is going to judge you if your email doesn’t look particularly original in structure because this is about the content. You don’t have to worry here about looking like you copied someone else’s homework, rather, it’s encouraged. If you were writing a haiku you wouldn’t worry about having the same number of syllables as everyone else. In the same vein do not worry about having the same professional email structure as everyone else. Emails are a means to an end, and there is no harm in viewing them that way.

I’ve written one out below for your convenience.

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

[Good morning,/ Good afternoon,/ Good evening,] ---> Header

[This is where you introduce yourself and provide relevant details about who you are. Are you a student with a question? Are you a professional in the field? Include that here. You may also want to include a thesis here about what you want in this introduction.  That is likely going to resemble something like “I have a question about {topic} and would like to hear your advice/ input/ knowledge on the subject, if possible.” It may seem redundant to introduce yourself here when your name is also going at the bottom, but redundancy isn’t always a bad thing.  This first paragraph is introducing yourself, the bottom is handing someone your business card.] ---> Introduction paragraph 

[This is your substantive content. You can indent this if you like, but some software gets a little finicky with this process, and most people prefer a space between the paragraphs in an email anyway because it genuinely makes it easier for people to read. Keep the paragraphs concise, clear, and don’t sweat the small stuff.] ---> First body of the email.

[I usually use much shorter paragraphs in an email that you would in an essay. You’re generally not arguing a point or giving an in depth analysis in an email, so they shouldn’t be too beefy in the first place, but generally separating them by question or by thought process is a good idea.]  ---> Second body of the email.

[And so on and so forth.] ---> Etc. body of the email.

[Best,/ Best wishes,/ Thank you,/ Thanks in advance, Kind regards] ---- Signature message

[Name O. Person] ---- Signature here

Stylistic Options

Some people insist there should be a colon at the end of the header portion, but in personal experience no one cares besides this one writing professor I had. However, if you wanna feel fancy with it, go for it. There are barely any rules to writing a professional email, but if it makes you a little less panicked to think you are performing a well guarded secret of professional email technique by using it, be the super spy you were born to be. 

Bonus Sign Off Sentence

Additionally, no one thinks for more than five seconds about the signature message. Whether you use “Regards”, or “Thank you” this is linguistic furniture. You notice when it isn’t there, but you don’t think very hard about it when it is there. I use the exact same one every single time, and so does everyone else. Pick one that sparks joy for you. If you want, you can even throw a sentence right before it to tailor it to your specific desires a la: --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Body ends here.]

I genuinely appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Regards, Name O. Person

Email Signature

One way to elevate your professional email game is to create a signature in your email program. In gmail, it’s under general settings.  You click add signature, pick a name for it, and it should open a formatting box. This allows you to create essentially a business card that will automatically be affixed to the bottom of your emails. It will go in place of putting your name at the bottom every time. You can get a little more fancy with the fonts and information in this section by including things like job title or graduating class. This can elevate your professional email game tenfold and make you look like you really know what you’re doing. Nearly every program for email management has some variation of this in the settings somewhere.

[yandere-sins]

Guard #400

a/n: It is time... for Pantalone ♥♥♥ I was actually really looking forward to this one lol, he just fits a little too well in this whole prison scheme (I guess all Harbingers do hahhaa). Also I won’t deny any longer just how badly I want to be railed by that guy. Just... just give him to me mhy, now, gimmi gimmi. If he ever does come out as a playable character I might just C6 him because damn. He’d demand it and I’d just be Sir, yes, Sir! Woof woof.

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Guard!Pantalone x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Dub-Con, Forced Exhibition, Slapping), Abuse of authority, Manipulation, Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"So? Have you made your decision?"

Pantalone slowly rose from his chair, uncapped his fountain pen, and placed it on the paper you recognized as the contract he had offered you before. Gesturing his hand to the document, he added, "The offer still stands, but I'm not sure for how long."

He was growing impatient. You could hear it even through his honeyed, service voice, unfitting of a man in his position. The few slow strides were so confident, as if the contract's content didn't concern him in the least, no matter how nasty and inhumane it was. He was a man that knew what he wanted. And even worse: He knew he was going to get it.

Circling around you, you felt his warmth in your back, a hand brushing from your hip up your side, resting on your waist as he stepped up next to you from behind. "Let me guess—no one else wanted to employ you? Poor thing."

His taunt felt like an ice-cold blade stabbing into your gut, twisting around in the form of a delighted chuckle. Pantalone hadn't been your first choice of employer. You thought the chief of finances of the prison you had been sent to wouldn't have interest in someone locked up for embezzlement. But your options of other jobs had been so few, most of them refusing you even before you asked for a position, that eventually you put your doubts aside, trying your luck with this man. However, the job he had for you was more punishment than going to prison not guilty already was. You just wanted to earn some money to make your life here more comfortable and save some for the hardships you'd face once you got out.

He wanted a sex slave.

As disturbing and straightforward as that. Things in this prison were anything but proper. Still, you never expected an officer in a leading position like the finance department to go this far. The first time you read the contract, you thought you were hallucinating, laughing it off as a bad joke. But seeing the everlasting, unreadable smile on Pantalone's lips, you realized he was serious about this—so you ran.

You wished you could have told anyone what had happened, even just vent it to a friend. But nothing and no one in this prison was friendly to you, the newbie. You could live with the mockery and bullying, being pushed around and called names. However, you were in no position to tell anyone what Pantalone had offered to you. There was nothing you could do to put his head back on straight. You were powerless.

Thus, after another round of unsuccessful applications, you were back, disgusted at yourself for even considering it.

"Isn't there anything... anything else I can do but this?" you asked uncomfortably, and you heard him take a deep breath by your side, annoyance radiating off of him. Your morality told you not to sink to his level, to not even consider it any further unless he offered you actual work right then and there. But your conscience was whispering into the back of your mind, with his voice, that this was as good as it would get, and you should take it as long as he still wanted you.

"Why? Do you think I won't compensate you well for this work?"

Hand slipping down, his fingers gripped your waist, pulling you into his chest, his lips next to your ear. "You need the money, remember? And I have lots of it. If you want to leave, you're free to go—now. But if you agree to stay, you'll get whatever you want from me, and I'll get my break from work. It's a win-win for everyone."

The smug smile plastered on his face could be heard in his voice as he made all of this seem so harmless. Fun, even. A business transaction like in the books with a twist. Your body for money, and maybe more. "Anything I want?" you muttered, thinking about the few things that would make your life easier here if you had them.

Pantalone's head dipped lower, and you subconsciously moved your head out of the way, baring your neck to him, which he appreciated with an agreeing hum. "Mhm, anything," Pantalone confirmed, halting in his tracks just before your pulse, enjoying the closeness of what was almost his (or so he thought). "Whatever you might desire from me."

The offer was horrendous. He was merely tricking you into becoming his sex slave with sweet words and promises. You had no reason to believe him. But if he spoke the truth, and was a man of his word, then... maybe...

"I want a cell for myself," you tested him.

"Mhm, sure," Pantalone hummed, planting a fluttering kiss on your neck that gave you goosebumps. A brush of his lips, like tipping his credit card to a machine for quick pay.

"And I want some of the money to be transferred to a bank account outside of jail for later."

His second hand reached up, driving from your collarbones to your jaw before wrapping around it, forcing your head back. "Anything else?" Pantalone asked, a sharp, biting undertone echoing through his voice, declaring his patience running low. There was so much you could demand and so little time to demand it. But he wanted something in return, and denying him any longer wasn't an option. This had to suffice if you wanted to stay on his good side. There was only one more thing you could ask for—mercy.

"Can you... Can you promise not to do something ridiculous or embarrassing to me?"

Raising an eyebrow, he watched you intently through hooded eyelids. There was a hint of distrust in his gaze, indicating that he didn't expect a rather personal request instead of more materialistic things. "That's what you concerned with?" Pantalone asked, and you nodded your head into his palm, feeling bashful.

"I will see what I can do. However, as that is an undefined request, we'll have to test out a few things before we know for sure."

You breathed out slowly, having held your breath as you waited for his answer. "Thank you," you whispered, lowering your gaze to the contract on the table. Pantalone released you, his touch lingering as long as possible on your body until you reached his desk, picking up the pen. In your best handwriting, you wrote down the things you discussed before placing your signature on the bottom line.

No second later, Pantalone's body collided with your back, one hand slipping around your front and between your legs, finger digging into the fabric of your pants and overall, sliding between your folds and up to your clit. You gasped, threatening to let the pen fall from your hand when he caught it with his free one. Leaning over your shoulder, he put his signature over yours. If that was supposed to be this way or an accident, you didn't know. But it looked awfully possessive of you as he hastily smeared his elegant signature all over yours.

With two fingertips, he played with your clit, the fabric giving barely enough coverage but all the more friction. You struggled a little against his touch but caught between his body and his arm, it only made you grind against Pantalone more, a husky grumble in your ear making you shudder.

Wasting no more time, Pantalone reached around to your front, unzipping the overall so he could sneak his hand under your shirt and up to your chest. The lousy bras you were given gave no resistance as he tore them off, letting them fall away and baring your breast to him. "No more bras," he mumbled, kissing along the nape of your neck as he fondled your chest, leather sliding over your nipples, flicking and twisting the little knob.

"And no more panties."

"Is that a command?" you gasped as you tried to keep your composure despite the clenching of your core and the treacherous slick running down your thighs.

"Call it a work instruction," Pantalone chuckled before drawing away, his hands leaving your throbbing nerves behind lonely as you staggered forward, catching yourself on the table. Everything in you screamed to hide and defend your body, but when you felt him grip the arms of your overall, you knew it wouldn't be the one to protect you any longer.

Reluctantly, you slid off the orange prison wear, letting it fall to the floor. Behind you, Pantalone let out a deep, hungry breath, and you didn't dare to turn around to see what expression he was making. Whether it was mockery or lust, you simply didn't want to see it. When he gripped you by the neck, you leaned forward, ass in the air, as Pantalone pressed his crotch to your backside, grinding the bulge in his pants into the softness of your rear.

He grew more and more assertive, forcing you on your tiptoes as he rested his body on top of yours, dry-humping into you with need. Heat was building between you two and inside you. Strange, considering you were still against all of this, and you two weren't at a stage where the stimulation was too much to bear. Maybe Pantalone's desire was slowly wearing off on you, the hot pants brushing against your earlobes, paired with his groans, tickling something deep inside your core.

Whatever it was, you knew you had to get this whole act over with quickly. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of watching you crumble and come undone because of him just like that. Even if it was just for feeling better about yourself and your decision, you had to prove to yourself that you could be strong and withstand all of this.

A herculean task.

Your trousers were already sliding off just from the grinding when Pantalone decided to ban them into pooling around your ankles instead. Standing in only your panties before him was humiliating, but you knew it wasn't enough for him yet. Until you were stark naked and very likely out of your mind embarrassed, he'd not stop. And he proved it to you by hooking his finger around your panties, tearing them off you, and making them unwearable, his work instruction becoming more and more reality.

Now, he had much easier access to you than you liked. Without any straining fabric in the way, your cunt got to experience the leathery touch of his gloves. Cold fingers caressed your heated folds, the nerves of your clit zapping electric shocks through you. But no matter how hard you flinched or tried to escape forward, Pantalone was always there to put you back in your place against him, never letting go.

By the time he was finished teasing you, you felt dizzy from the pleasure, barely hearing him unzip his own pants until you felt the curve of his cock resting against your throbbing cunt. Pantalone wet his cock in slow, agonizing slides through your slick folds until you were ready to welcome him, his tip settling perfectly against your entrance.

You both let out moans in unison as he sunk into you. However, when you thought he had already pushed completely inside you, Pantalone made yet another step forward, sheathing every inch in your pussy, your ass bumping against his hips. There was no one you could think of that ever filled you so deeply. Whose curve aligned perfectly with your insides, and who made you feel like you would lose it after only entering you.

"I chose well," Pantalone sighed in satisfaction, breath shuddering before he pulled out slowly, treasuring the feeling of your walls clinging on to him desperately. And without warning, he plunged back in, leaving you gasping as you were pounded against his desk. There was nothing you could do but endure the exciting tingle of pleasure, capturing your every body function and every thought.

Your mind wanted to be strong, and your body just really wanted to cum.

"Move," Pantalone gasped, pulling you up by the arm. His cock slipped out of you as he directed you around the table, leaving a mess dripping out as you mewled. Immediately, you put your hand over your mouth, trying to hide the sounds that threatened to escape, but Pantalone merely laughed, amused by your frugal tries to deny your feelings.

Getting around first, he plopped down on his chair heavily, not caring about the image he usually upheld so well. Legs spread and arms on either side of the armrests, he seemed more like a king commanding his subjects than a respectable boss. Though... with the kind of contract you two had, you weren't sure if he had ever been reputable in the first place.

His cock, erect and throbbing, awaited you with a slick sheen, and you felt your core clench in longing as your eyes fell on it, long and curved, a dangerous and greedy thing just like the man attached to it. "Get on top," Pantalone instructed, waving his hand for you impatiently.

Laying your palm in his, you slung your leg over his, trying to find a space to place your knees. Pantalone pulled you taut against him, one hand grabbing your side, elevating your body until you lost your footing, relying on his support. However, his gaze snapped from the space between your hips and the tip of his cock, a demanding glint in them that made you act without any words needing to be spoken between you two.

Reaching down, you brushed your fingertips over his length, his cock pulsing hard against your hand, demanding to be led back to your entrance so it may sink inside again. However, with how the position was, you assumed Pantalone wanted you to please him, causing you to grip his dick, pleasuring him with your hand first. If it helped him to cum faster, it would only be better for you, but his fingers at your side turned into claws, signaling he wasn't impressed by your teasing.

Reluctantly, you lowered your hips, sliding his tip through your folds until you reached your entrance. You prepared yourself with a deep breath, wanting to slide down in your own tempo, but Pantalone seemed to have a different idea, slamming your hips down and buckling his at the same time. Even with your eyes wide open, you couldn't see anything but lights flicker in your vision. Next thing you knew, you moaned loudly as Pantalone urged you up and down his cock like a fleshlight.

"Mhm-! Not so... Not so f-fast!" you slurred, a smug grin jerking the corners of his lips.

"You do it, then," he relented, letting go of your body. You flopped down like a loose sack of potatoes, panting heavily. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you used them to push yourself up, biting your lip to hold back the moan after you mumbled, "Okay..."

"Okay, what?" Pantalone asked, a slap ringing out as his hand came down on your ass. This surprise was nothing you could bite down, moaning loudly, and a second slap followed right away.

"Okay, Sir!" you corrected yourself, quickening the pace in hopes he'd find it harder to aim.

"That's right," Pantalone huffed, eyes fixed on your breast jiggling before his eyes. "I'll teach you how to be more respectful to the person you belong to. Got it?"

"Mhm--! Yes! Yes, Sir!"

You must have been out of your mind, moaning and rocking your hips on your boss's lap. You'd never done these things for money. Aside from the occasional sigh and groan, the hungry gleam in his eyes, and his fingers digging into your hips, Pantalone gave you no indications or words of his satisfaction. Regardless, there was no turning back now. Not when you could already feel your toes curl.

A knock on the door finally made you regain your conscience, snapping you out of your hazy humping. Your expression grew panicked, but the door was already opening without either of you asking the person to come in. "Sir, I have the weekly reports you wanted--"

You could hear the person's jaw drop as they looked up from the papers they were bringing, eyes landing on your bare ass, their gaze tingling on your skin as it drove upwards, trying to see who it belonged to. Your whole head felt ablaze after being caught in this unseemingly position, your pussy still dripping with all your juices even in this kind of situation.

"Not a good time right now," Pantalone said, waving his hand dismissingly but appearing unbothered otherwise.

"I- I was- There--" the person behind you stammered, and you simply wanted to die the longer you could feel them checking out your body. This was probably the worst case you could have imagined when you took the 'job'. Pantalone sighed, and you recognized his telling signs by now. If you learned anything, then that he wasn't a very patient man.

Gripping you from underneath your thighs, he lifted you up, bucking his hips into you, making you gasp loudly before letting you fall back first on top of his desk. After the initial shock and pain, you forced your eyes open again, staring straight into the eyes of the young guard who had greeted you upon coming in and acted as a secretary to Pantalone. It was infuriatingly embarrassing to be seen like this, disheveled and so close to your orgasm, especially when Pantalone put your legs around his hips, jerking them until you got the hint and wrapped them around him on your own before he plunged back deep inside you.

Covering you with his own body from the horrified and, at the same time, intrigued glances, he looked up at his secretary in annoyance. "Look at them again, and I'll gauge out your eyes. If you have any sense of self-preservation, leave. I am busy."

That finally released the young man from his state of shock. He stumbled over his own feet, muttering apologies to no one in particular and slamming the door behind him, which caused Pantalone to huff. Lowering his gaze back to you, you were still embarrassed beyond belief when he asked, "Was this sufficient?"

"No!" you yelled, immediately lowering your voice after noticing the irritated glint in his eyes after you screamed into his face. "This is terrible! They saw me... doing this... here..."

"I'll install a lock then," he promised calmly, pushing his irritation aside for you and rolling his hips. You let out a frustrated groan as your pleasure spiked again, and Pantalone put his lips to your throat, nibbling on your skin as he pounded into you. You could hardly decide which position had felt the best, but you knew you were done for. Pleasure-wise and your reputation.

"Sir," you whimpered. "I'll... I'll--"

"Cum," he muttered into your collarbone. "I don't mind you feeling pleasure because of me. Just make sure to finish the job."

Nodding meekly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on to him tightly as Pantalone began pounding harder, his cock throbbing inside you, so close to bursting as well. He gripped the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white as your toes curled, back arching, needily wanting to be closer to him even more so close before being pushed over the edge.

Cumming on this amazing cock wasn't hard, not when it seemed to check off the best spots like a veteran explorer of your body. All the harder was the orgasm. Your moans were no longer muffled. Tears shot in your eyes as you began to see stars again, your nails raking through the uniform jacket with the intent to destroy.

It was over way too fast.

After the height, you crashed too hard, tears overflowing as you realized you couldn't even keep a little bit of your dignity. Soon everyone would know what you were doing with the chief of finances. It wouldn't even be rumors that he was fucking you in his office for money. It would all be true. And what was even worse was Pantalone knowing he had won. He convinced you to play by his rules, obey his commands, and on top of it, made you cum even before himself.

You sobbed as he plowed through your orgasm, heavy breathing that felt like flames licking at you and the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you. Reaching over to grip you by your hair, Pantalone turned your head in front of his, moving forward to kiss you. "N-No!" Already feeling disgusted by yourself, you denied access by averting your face, his orgasm coming and going without him finding refuge and pleasure in a kiss.

When your eyes darted briefly to his face, you expected it to be filled with satisfaction or victorious madness, but instead, he stared at you coldly, bitterly. You hadn't realized this kiss would mean so much, but it seemed like you ruined his orgasm for him, which made you... happy.

Pulling out, you didn't even care that you'd have to clean up the mess he left behind to drip out of you. You sat up slowly, watching as your boss wiped his cock clean before discarding the stained leather gloves, throwing them on top of you. "Get off my desk," he commanded, and you strained your tense back, feeling the pain from being thrown on the wood roughly before. You managed to get down before Pantalone sat in his chair again, rolling back up to his desk with an irritated expression on his face.

"Go and get some wet wipes and clean this disgusting mess you made," Pantalone instructed, and you gulped, clearly hearing his anger through his voice, even though you found the blame unfair. Going around the desk, you picked up your clothes, quickly putting them on again.

"I'd love to send you there naked, you know. You probably enjoyed being seen more than you admitted."

Catching his eyes, you gulped, blurting out something you should have rather kept inside. "Are you really that mad because I didn't kiss you?"

You could feel the anger emanating from him as he stared at you, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist. "S-Sorry," you muttered quickly, lowering your gaze and hurrying to zip up your overalls (all the way!) before running to the door. You dreaded having to look into the faces in the office space waiting just outside. Still, it was better than staying inside with the mad tyrant of the financial department. You had a feeling you'd not get away unharmed if you dared to test his patience any longer.

However, just as you wanted to turn the knob, a hand slammed into the door next to you. You jerked away but were grabbed by your upper arm and kept in place right beside him.

"I think you forgot who's in charge here. You need me, but you're just a diversion for me—a break from work. There are enough other gullible prisoners dying for a chance at what you have. Never forget I fucking own you. You signed the contract. You're mine to do with whatever I please. Don't you dare ever deny me again."

Pantalone didn't allow you to look into his eyes, but you were glad that he stood behind you so you didn't have to face him as he spat these words into your ear. Gulping, you nodded, his grip tightening around your arm for a moment before he let go, taking a step back.

"Kiss me," he said, voice as monotone as it sounded dangerous. It was his way of proving you really understood what he just said and your position. What you meant to him. That you were caving and submitting to him, or you knew he'd make your life miserable. It made you want to cry again, pathetic and captured in his scheme as you were, but you choked back the tears, turning around and stepping up to him.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheeks with shaky hands. Your gut revolted at even the thought of having to kiss this man, but you took a quick breath, calming yourself. It was just a kiss. What could go wrong? You already rode his dick and let him make you cum harder than anyone ever before, you shouldn't feel this ashamed with simple and insignificant affection in comparison.

And yet, watching his features soften as he leaned down, you were horrified to see the affection in his gaze just before your lips united. You wanted to end it quickly, but his arms wrapped around your midriff, pulling you close, unwilling to let go as he licked over your lips, slipping inside as you gasped. Pantalone didn't let you back away, involving you in a deep kiss, no matter how much you clawed your fingers into his arms, kissing you again and again until you were gasping for air.

But only when he was satisfied with tasting you did he finally let go, pushing you from him as if it meant nothing to him, turning and walking back to his desk. "The wipes?" he asked goadingly, patting the wood, discarding you just like that, high and dry.

"Of course..." you mumbled, confused about the sudden change in his wants. Just now, he had been angry about you not kissing him, and now he wanted nothing from you all of a sudden?

"Of course what?"

"Of course, Sir!" you corrected yourself, hurrying to leave the room, even with the horrified faces awaiting you on the other side.

Leaving behind one smug Pantalone, watching his toy running off to get the supplies so they could clean the desk before he'd make them dirty it once again. Over and over until your mind would be so broken, you'd not know anything other than the pleasure of his cock. Touching his fingers to his lips, he could still feel your plump softness caressing them, your taste lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Next time, you'd kiss him as he claimed you. And if his workday wasn't long enough, Pantalone was sure he could find a reason to take you home with him so you could warm his cock all night long. There was still so much he wanted to see—mostly you choking on his cock, crying, and begging him to make you cum. You were the best candidate he had in a while, and there was no better stress relief than a desperate little prisoner writhing beneath him. He might not be as patient as to wait days again for you to come around and fulfill all the things he wanted to do to you.

But he would, most definitely, get his fill for what he was paying.

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