#i don’t want to go through the whole process of moving over to the browser version of tumblr just to shitpost

[wishchip106]

stupid pictures of Erik my beloved 😻🫶

i can’t believe Charles fell for this guy 💔 (real)

[dirtyvulture]

BBB

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader*

18+ only read at your own risk

Word count: 3248

Requested by anon: Hi i love your work..you don't have to do this request if you don't want.. i was kind of was wondering since we haven't heard from Sergeant Nat and reader. If we could hear from them? I was thinking since Nat is always the confident reassured one in that universe like maybe something happens where shes not sure where she stand with reader? Like jealous or maybe reader lets one of her military friends borrow her laptop and they use it to watch porn...and nat finds it and thinks its reader. And nat kind of loses her mind in a way that we havent seen. (Not like crazy but for the first time shes like am i enough). And reader is high key oblivious bc she worships nat. Some communication to sort out and then smutty times. Only if you want. If not i look forward to whatever you post yay. 

AN: *Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Thanks for the idea, anon! This was a lot of fun to write. :)

This is Part 5 in my Sergeant Beef series. Read the first one here.

“Hey, can I borrow your laptop?” Sam asks, poking his head into your room. 

“Why?” You don’t even look at him, focused on you video game on the tiny television mounted to your wall.

“I dropped mine in the lake, so I had to buy a new one but it won’t get shipped off until later this week,” Sam explains. 

“Okay,” you say, hardly listening to him as you race your little car across the screen to bump the giant soccer ball towards the goal. “It’s in my room on the–”

“I know where it is. Thanks.” Sam whisks in and helps himself. 

“Close the door on your way out!” you call, just in time to hear the door slam behind him. Turning your whole focus back to your game, your fingers mash the buttons to a triumphant win.

***********************************************************************

A few days later, Natasha is over at your apartment. While the two of you had discussed a thousand times moving in together, you had always stalled or walked around the subject. Natasha wasn’t sure if it was because you were nervous what the public’s perception would be of your relationship, or if you preferred your own private space too much to give it up. Ever since the deployment, you had been more likely to retreat and hide away (even from Natasha) when you were upset or moody. She wondered if it was a side effect of your PTSD, but you never seemed ready for that conversation so she left it alone.

For dinner, you grilled some steaks (setting off the smoke detector in your apartment) while Natasha made a side of mashed potatoes and green beans. Afterwards, you went to take a shower while Natashas lounged around and found a movie on Netflix for the two of you to watch. She sits on the couch, opening your laptop and finding the web browser. She looks up Netflix and then browses through the recommendations on your home page, but none of them pique her interest.

She goes onto Google to search what other people are recommending and wades through a sea of titles and descriptions to find one. Swapping back and forth between tabs, she finds a website with a host of titles and flips back and forth until she finds a movie that is both on the list and currently on Netflix. But in the process, she loses track of the tab and accidentally closes it, silently cursing to herself, before going to check the history to find it again.

But what she finds in the history is not what she had been looking for.

Natasha feels almost scandalized when she sees the words “big busty blondes” in your search history, followed by a list of pornsites. While she knew you watched such videos in her absence, she didn’t know what genre you were into, and now a deep sinking feeling of insecurity fills her. She was not blonde, nor was she particularly busty after the years of hard workouts had shrank some of her assets a little. You always told her she had the perfect body, but now she wasn’t quite sure if she should believe you.

“Nat? Did you pick a movie?” You poke your head out of the bathroom. You’re not wearing a shirt and your wet hair is dripping water down your chest, emphasizing the lines of your muscles. Natasha can see the bullet scar on your ribs from the deployment that almost ended your life. But you walked away with every member of your team alive, and your tale of bravery had become something of a living legend in the community. 

She knows you could have any woman you wanted. She had seen the way the recruits eyed you and how bold the other brass were with you. Before your promotion to sergeant, you were often overlooked and completely ignored. Natasha, perhaps a little selfishly, always considered herself the catch in your relationship: she was one of a handful of female sergeants with outstanding credentials, and looked great in and out of a uniform. But maybe she thought too highly of herself. You had developed into a very competent sergeant, were extremely good-looking, and had the most lovable personality anyone could ask for.

What if you didn’t want her anymore? What if you wanted someone younger, or someone you could start a family with? Natasha hadn’t yet disclosed to you her inability to have children, but if the subject ever came up, she knew you’d need no other excuse to walk away.

“Nat? Did you pick out a movie?” you ask again.

“Yes,” Natasha says. “We can watch Trolls.”

“Okay. That sounds fun.”  

You come out in a sweatshirt with matching gray sweatpants and join Natasha on the couch. Instinctively, you put your arm around her shoulder and she snuggles against you, letting you rest your head against hers.

You seem to enjoy the goofy children’s movie, laughing out loud at the jokes and cheering when the main characters hug by the end. But Natasha can’t focus for a second, still thinking about the search history on your laptop. She didn’t even know if it was something she should bring up, but it was already eating her alive to think that she wasn’t good enough for you.

Natasha didn’t know if she would be able to survive without you. She would have to do everything she could to keep you by her side.

***********************************************************************

“Give me a sec,” Natasha calls, hurriedly slipping her boots on. She checks herself in the mirror one final time before opening her apartment door to see you.

“Hi, Nat–oh.” Your expression goes flat.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asks, her stomach twisting in knots. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

“You dyed your hair,” you say, blinking at the short blonde hair she was now sporting.

“You don’t like it?” she asks, her worry growing by the second. She had dropped a significant sum at the salon on base to cut and dye her hair. Perhaps this had been a severe overreaction on her part. 

“Oh. No, um, it looks very nice,” you stutter. 

Natasha is not convinced in the slightest. Her face flushes red and she bites her lip to stop herself from crying in frustration. “That’s okay,” she mutters more to herself than you. “Where are we going again?” she asks, even though she knows every detail of the outing she had planned with you.

“The gym first, then we can get lunch and go grab groceries,” you list off, seemingly oblivious to her awkwardness. 

“Yes, that’s right. Okay, let’s go,” she replies sullenly.

***********************************************************************

Natasha isn’t sure what else she can do to hold your attention after the hair dying incident. She tries to be extra doting with you, but all of her efforts seem to go completely unnoticed. You only say “thank you” once when she gets you your favorite chocolate bar from the commissary. The next time the two of you are in bed together, Natasha feels like she has to guide you through all the motions and you fuck her with a concerningly low level of enthusiasm. Natasha is convinced you’ve found someone else and just the thought of losing you makes her sick. 

She’s nearly sent over the edge when she finally gets a text from you:

From Y/N: Can you come over tonight? I want to talk

Natasha feels like the rug has been pulled out from under her feet. Sweat breaks out on her forehead and her stomach starts to hurt like she had a bad meal. What if she just didn’t go to see you? Would you really still break up with her over text?

Her body seems to have a mind of her own as she responds:

To Y/N: Ok

***********************************************************************

“Thanks for coming over,” you say, welcoming Natasha into your apartment. She steps in guardedly, wondering if you’re hiding your new girlfriend under the couch. Or maybe she’s already in your bed. She shuffles down the hallway to subtly peer into your bedroom, which is empty.

“What did you want to talk about?” Natasha isn’t one to dance around the elephant in the room. Besides, she doesn’t want to draw this out any longer than it needs to be.

“Oh. Um…” You sound caught off guard. “Well, I was thinking that–”

“You want to break up with me.” Natasha can’t stop the tears forming in her eyes. She wipes them away, angry at herself for showing such weakness already.

“What? What makes you think that?” Your shock is so genuine, Natasha almost wants to believe you.

Natasha hides her face behind her hand. “I saw it on your laptop last week. The kind of porn you were watching–”

“Porn? I use incognito,” you say. “Unless that doesn’t actually hide things…” you add in a mumble.

“Your search history said you looked up…” Natasha takes a breath. “‘Big busty blondes,’” she repeats, hating the way the words sound off her tongue.

“What?” You sound confused now. “That’s…I don’t watch that kind of stuff. Wait, is that why you dyed your hair blonde?”

“No,” Natasha lies. “But I saw it on your laptop!” she insists, hastily changing the subject.

You pause for a moment, then start shaking your head with a chuckle. “I’m gonna rip him a new one,” you mutter. Then louder, you explain, “Sam borrowed my laptop last week because his was broken. I’m guessing he used it to…you know…” Your expression turns into one of disgust, and Natasha matches it. 

“Oh. So, you’re not into big busty blondes?” Natasha is embarrassingly desperate for clarification.

“No, I’m not.” You take a step towards her and hold out your hands. “But I do have a thing for hot redheads who could totally kick my butt.”

“I know,” Natasha says, taking your hands and leaning up to kiss you. Her lips lift into a smile when you return her kiss with more passion than you had all week, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her flush against you. You dig your fingers into her thighs, lightly rolling your hips, and when she feels your hard bulge against her stomach and all of her doubts are cast away immediately. Her face burns in shame when she realizes how quickly she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. You weren’t going anywhere. You were totally in love with her and wanted no one else.

“Wait, so what did you want to talk about?” Natasha asks, trying to ignore the arousal building in her core as you hump her.

“Oh! Um…” Your face reddens, as if you’re so turned on yourself you forgot why you asked her to come. “Uh…I wanted to ask if…you would like to move in with me? Or if I could move into your apartment? Or we could find a new place together…”

Natasha feels like she’s gotten whiplash from the subject change. She had come here thinking you were breaking up with her, but instead you actually wanted to move in with her? Just when she had thought it was never going to happen.

“Why the change?” she asks.

You shrug your massive shoulders. “We spend so much time together as it is. And I was mostly nervous because you know I have those night terrors a lot, but…” You sigh. “I realized I get them a lot less when I wake up next to you.” Natasha wants to melt in your arms. “And it would be really nice if I got to wake up next to you every day. And eat every meal with you. And–”

Natasha cuts you off with a hard kiss. “Yes,” she pants, groping for the tie on your sweatpants and pulling them down. “Of course I’ll move in with you.”

“Nat,” you whine when she grabs your cock. She feels it throb in her hand and her arousal spikes. As high as her own sex drive was, there was little else that turned Natasha on more than to see how excited you were for her. She pushes you towards the bedroom and you understand without needing words, obediently sitting down on your bed and pulling you on top of her. You grunt when her weight lands on your thighs and Natasha immediately props herself on her knees; sometimes she forgets about the injury on your right thigh that still causes you pain sometimes.       

“Sorry baby,” she whispers while leaning in to kiss your cheek. It had been a long and sometimes frustrating journey to get back to the same level of intimacy the two of you shared after the deployment ambush and your recovery. The medicines you were on had drastically affected your mood (and performance) and there were still some positions you could no longer do because of the strain it put on your body. But Natasha had been patient and gentle with you, even when all she wanted to do was fuck you senseless. Over time your strength and stamina had come back, and Natasha was thrilled you could still please her in bed. 

She leans back and takes her shirt off while you mirror her. You’re almost back to your weight as before the deployment, but the physical therapy has encouraged you to work out even harder, so you are more muscular and toned than before. Natasha eyes your body hungrily, her hand reaching out to trace the scar on your ribs. While she hates the memory attached to your scar, she can appreciate how much more badass it makes you look.

“Nat,” you say, and she breaks out of her thoughts. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” She pushes you to lie on your back, rolling her clothed lower body against yours. “Everything is very okay.” Her hands skate across your warm skin, squeezing your biceps before resting on your chest, balancing herself as she rocks back and forth. Even though you’re still wearing boxers, Natasha can feel the hardness of your dick pressing against her butt.

“All ready for me?” she hums, digging her nails lightly into your chest.

“Always,” you respond, rolling your hips to match her rhythm. 

“Hmm.” Natasha contemplates how she wants you today. You almost never call the shots in bed, but you have no problem with Natasha taking control most of the time. She likes how submissive you are to her and your willingness to please her even at your own expense. But she isn’t feeling selfish today and wants you to relax and enjoy too. 

Her body seems to have a mind of its own as she humps along your abs, eventually pushing her panties to the side so you can feel her heat on your stomach. 

“Nat,” you whine, gripping onto her waist to guide her movements. 

“Just let me ride you,” she says, lifting off of you for a moment to remove her panties completely, and the two of you moan when she settles back on you. You flex your abs until Natasha swears she could grate cheese on them. She angles her hips back and widens her legs so she can drag her pussy along the ridges of your abs, smearing her wetness everywhere. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” she moans.

“So do you,” you say, your hands tightening around her waist. 

Natasha moves her hips faster, sliding back until she can feel your cock practically poking a hole through your boxers. She’s just warming herself (and you) up and doesn’t want to rush to the main event. But as she hears your whines and feels the tension in your body, all she wants is for you to flip her over and fuck her until she can’t walk.  

“Can you do exactly what I ask you to?” Natasha pants, the building arousal in her stomach almost painful now.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, Sergeant. Whatever you want.”

The use of Natasha’s title makes her pussy clench around nothing. Her body aches for you and she’s done playing around.

“Good. I want you to get on your knees and fuck me,” she demands, abruptly climbing off of you and presenting her backside to you. You scramble to obey, wasting no time lining up your cock with her soaking pussy and pushing in eagerly. Natasha inhales sharply when your length stretches her out, filling her perfectly and reaching places she could never reach with her hand or a toy. When you start moving your hips, she whimpers and moans, gripping handfuls of the bedsheets so you don’t slam her into the headboard.

She spasms around you with every stroke, clenching tightly and trying to draw you in as deep as you can go. Natasha loves to hear you moan, knowing she was the cause of them, and more of her slick leaks out around your cock. 

“Fuck, Nat,” you grunt, your thighs slapping against her butt with every thrust. “You always feel amazing.”

“Harder,” she begs. “I want you to cum when I do.”

“I’ll try,” you respond, your breathing ragged as you start to falter in your rhythm. 

“Fuck, you’re in me so deep,” Natasha moans, wishing that despite your already above-average size, you had more to give her. She lets go of the bedsheets and slips her hand down between her legs, rubbing her clit for added stimulation. “Don’t you dare stop,” she warns, noticing the way your legs are shaking and your thrusts are losing their power.

“I won’t,” you whimper, and Natasha is not convinced you’ll be able to last much longer. Her hand glides back up to her stomach, where she can feel the bulge of your cock through her skin. That alone nearly sends her over the edge, but she has one more request from you.

“Bite me,” Natasha pants, motioning to her right trapezius muscle. Normally, she is very against you marking her during sex because she doesn’t want to worry about hiding them, but now she is panting at the thought of you finally staking your claim on her.

“Bite you?” you say, sounding extremely timid.

“Yes!” she growls, not wanting to repeat herself. “If you don’t bite me, I won’t let you cum.”

You moan and tighten your grip on her waist. Natasha feels your cock throbbing inside her, but she knows you won’t finish without her permission. The bed creaks as your weight shifts and she feels your chest press against her back as you lean over her. She hums in anticipation, feeling your breath across the back of her shoulder. Your teeth graze her skin lightly, your hesitancy obvious. 

“Y/N,” she moans, pushing back into you and squeezing your length. “If you don’t fucking bite me–”

Your teeth suddenly clamp down sharply and Natasha keens, gushing around you and not even noticing you finish inside her. White spots of pure pleasure burst behind her eyelids and she feels cum drip down her thighs. It feels like she’s riding out the high forever, but when she finally unwinds, she feels your weight pressing into her back and a dull stinging in her shoulder. She twists her head to see the clear imprint of your teeth in her skin, the flesh reddening already.

“Sorry if that was too hard,” you say softly, as if you’re embarrassed by following her instructions.

“Nonsense,” she says, reaching behind her to cup the back of your neck. She pulls your head down against hers and nuzzles against your cheek. “Next time, you can bite me harder.”

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

AN: Sorry to Sam lol

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[dalamjisung]

stream it ❊ mark tuan

word count: 2690

genre: slice of life, streamer!mark 

member: mark x reader

description: your best friend is finally coming back, after years of living oceans away; but for some reason he is ignoring you. What is he planning?

He doesn’t tell you much. Actually, the little he does tell you is the same as nothing and if you ask anything else, he just changes the topic.

We’re finishing things today, he texted you almost a week ago, and after that, radio silence. You try calling, but not only he doesn’t pick up, but he also turns his phone off, and now all you can do is cuss him through your window, carefully keeping your voice down so that his family won’t hear you disgracing the name of their dear son.

Mr. Tuan had already caught you staring into his son’s empty room many times, and he’d always invite you over whenever he did, asking if you wanted to go take a look into his room– you two did spend a lot of time in there, after all. You did, once; but then never again… it looks exactly like it did the day he left for Korea and although it’s been more than ten years now, something inside still pulled and twisted at your heartstrings. A nostalgic pain, is what Ms. Tuan called it, and you nod; she’d know best, indeed. You might miss your best friend, but she misses her son, and nothing you feel or do can ever amount to that.

A shower is just what you need, you conclude, but even when the scalding hot water hits your back in a soft massage, you can’t stop thinking about him. Years ago, before he left, Mark made you a promise: he promised you two would finish what you started– and you knew what that meant, you knew he was talking about the relationship that had been blossoming for the past months… however, you started to doubt yourself as time went by. With the years, the feelings you had– have,– the feelings you have for him, started to numb, almost like a dull presence behind the rest of your life; behind all the other relationships you had, all the other decisions you made, everything. It’s always been there, and it is there still. No matter how much you rub your skin, how much you empty your head, Mark is always there. So naturally, after he told you he’d be coming back home, everything resurfaced. Only be the shattered again once he disappeared.

“Get over it,” You sigh, changing into an oversized t-shirt Mark left at your house last time he visited, a couple of years ago or so. You don’t even bother drying your hair, too tired with everything to deal with the task, and just throw yourself in your bed, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram.

Until you see the familiar notification.

marktuan started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

You sit up rather quickly, phone almost flying out of your hand with the abruptness of it all. His face takes all of the screen and there is a smile on his face, mischievous, almost childish. You feel overwhelmed– confused, happy, anguished,– it all comes forth in a second upon hearing his laughter. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you almost miss it– you almost don’t catch the red chair he’s sitting on, one that is freakishly similar to the one in the room across from your window. You heart is pounding on your chest, mind reeling with even the slightest possibility, and when, only when, you see a white fluff jumping onto his lap, Milo’s bark echoing from you phone at the same time you hear it from the neighboring house, you get up, screaming in shock.

“Ah, she’s here, everybody,” He chuckles, looking to the side, and you know he’s looking through his window to try and catch a glimpse of you. “I just heard her scream from her room.”

He’s here. He is in Los Angeles. And he’s been ignoring you even though you’re just a few feet away. Oh… oh, you are fuming.

Marching to your window, you pull your curtains open, and violently open the window, allowing the chill air of California’s night take over you. Your voice echoes from your phone when you finally shout out to him.

“MARK TUAN YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

“Oh my god,” He laughs, throwing his head back, and this time, you see him through his window. “Y/N, there are kids watching this!”

“I swear to god, Tuan, once I put my hands around your neck I am going to kill you!” He is looking at you know, hand over his mouth to cover his shocked expression, but you see it in his eyes– the resurfacing childish glee that shines behind the adultness in his face. He goes to his own window, leaning forward, and if he just stretched his arm out, your could reach for his hand. 

“Long time no see, Y/L/N,” He winks, and you reach out, stretching so far out that you could’ve fallen if not for his hand stoping you. “Y/N, wait– no, don’t; jesus, we haven’t done this in a while... Use the front door like a normal person, woman!”

“I’m going to jump,” You warn him, legs swinging over and getting in position. “And if I still can do it, if I don’t die in the process… you should run.”

“Wait, wait, wa–“ His whole torso is out of the window, arms out to grab you once you are within reach. He embraces you to pull you inside, like he did when you were kids. Your hands grab his windowsill on the inside, feet landing on the outside wall, and together you two get you into his room. “Are you insane?! Y/N, we are old!”

“Oh no, mister,” You don’t even care that, right now, millions of people from all around the world are watching you threaten your best friend. You don’t care that millions of people have just watched you enter him room through his window. You don’t care about anything right now… anything but Mark. “You are dead.”

You punch him in the arm, and you know that the pained face and gasp are all for show– you could feel his muscles with every punch, every slap, every touch.

“You see this, guys?” Mark looks at the camera, hair falling in his face as he dodges away from you. “She will kill me! Aghase, help me!”

“Aghase will understand me,” You snarl, getting closer. “Once they find out that you’ve been here all this time and never told me!”

“I got back home this morning!” He holds your hands above your head, body glued to his. “I just got here!”

“Then you had a whole day to tell me about it and you didn’t!” One hand frees itself and grabs his shoulder, shaking him in despair.

“Mom!” He shouts, laughing as you lost your mind. “Mom, help! Dad!”

“They’re not coming,” You tell him, struggling to free yourself. “Your parents left with mine for dinner an hour ago. You’re all mine, Tuan.”

And he softens, out of nowhere; his arms, his shoulder, his smile. It all softens, and, slowly, he lets go of your hands, using the end of his grasp on you to pull you to a warm embrace; one so familiar and fitting that all your worries just vanish, and you sense that it’s not just you. The way his head falls on top of yours, kissing your hair; the way his arms are tight, like two vines around you; the way his chest heaves because it can finally breath fresh air– Mark is home.

“I missed you,” Your voice is gurgled from unshed tears, and with your damp hair and barely there shorts, you sure look crazy. “Mark, I missed you so much, why did you–“

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, a weak chuckle leaving him. “I’m sorry, bug. I promise I’ll never do that again.”

“Aghase,” You call out, looking at the computer. “You are watching this, right? Next time he disappears, I’m gonna count on all of you to find him.”

You see all the comments popping go the screen and your curiosity gets the best of you, but when you pull away to go try and read them, Mark whines and pulls you back to him.

“No,” He mumbles, voice hoarse on your neck. “Not yet.”

“The world it watching us, you big baby,” You roll your eyes. “At least tell them something!”

“Aghase!” He shouts, frustration clear in his voice. “We’ve accomplished our mission! Operation Surprise Y/N is complete!”

More comments pop up but he is quick to wave them goodbye and shut the browser down. When he turns back to look at you, his eyes travel from yours, down to the shirt that brings a smirk of recognition to his face, and then to your legs, naked and vulnerably to the chill air.

“Everything is the same,” You say, breaking the silence, too anxious and nervous now that he is here, right in front of you. He looks so different from how you see him in the screen of your phone; so tall, so real. His hair is brown again, like it used to be when you were kids, and his eyes still do that thing when he smiles, that shinny glint of innocent mischief with the creases in the sides. But what’s so different, you finally notice, is how happy he looks to be home– how relaxed and at ease he finally is. All the times he’d been back it was rushed, always fast and busy; interviews with American broadcasting programs or modeling gigs with magazines would take all of his time. Now, though… now he stands in childhood room, looking at you, as if he has all the time in the world to do so, because, well, he does.

“I know,” Mark shoves his hands in his pockets, slowly walking to you. “It’s weird, right? Nothing’s changed.”

“Nothing’s changed,” You nod, sitting in his bed. You look around, memories of you two in that same room flooding your mind. “Wait… you just got here, right? Where’s your stuff?”

Mark looks around, too, surprised that you even noticed. “Oh… I’m not– I moved somewhere else.”

“Wha–“ You try to move, but Mark is quicker, and he sits down next to you– one arm around your waist keeping you glued to him. Your head falls on his shoulder with a defeated thud and you don’t understand… “You just got back.”

“So what?” He look at you with a frown. “I still need somewhere to live, and–“

“What I mean is that you just got back,” You mumble, turning your body to throw your legs over his; thighs laying on top of his and head nuzzled in his neck. Your hands though, are tucked to your chest, and they slowly move so your fingers can grab the extra fabric of his t-shirt, holding it as if that is the only thing keeping him next to you– the only thing stopping him from leaving again. “At least stay here a bit, you know? Your mom missed you a lot, and your dad, too! They want to spent some time with their son, and I… I just missed seeing you everyday.”

“You can still see me everyday,” Mark’s hand moves your face up, forcing you to look at him. The closeness is enough to make you blush harder than the first time he kissed you; harder than when he made his promise. “I’ll still be here in L.A.”

“Yeah, but L.A. is huge,” You roll your eyes, blinking some tears back. “I don’t know how far you’ll be! Or– or why are you even choosing to live alone; I mean, I get that you shared a dorm for years but… but you just got back, Mark, and I don’t know, you could stay here with us for a while.”

“I’m not,” He chuckles, kissing your nose. “Living alone, I mean. Hopefully, you’ll move-in with me.”

“Me?!”

“Your dad mentioned you were looking into moving out when I called him a few weeks ago, and I don’t see why not,” He shrugs, pushing your hair behind your ear. “We would have a lot of fun.”

“You are almost thirty years old,” You sound as confused as you probably look. “And you want to live with your best friend?”

“No,” Mark shakes his head, fishing out a set of keys from his pocket and dangling it in front of your face. When you try to grab it, he pulls it back. “I want to live with my girlfriend.”

“Mark,” You look at him, heart speeding up with the proximity. “Don’t you think you skipped a few steps there, buddy?”

“I don’t think so,” He smile, moving forward to peck your lips and pull back, leaving you craving for more, lips brushing against yours as he continues to speak. “I made a promise, after all; this is just me making good on that promise. Now, yes or no?”

“Just like that?” You mumble, moving to kiss his lips, too, and he smiles wide. “Yes or no?”

“Just like that, baby,” And it feels like a game, this light kissing, this barely touching, this whispered words. It feels like he is baiting you, and if this is what awaits for you in the future, then you are more than happy to fall into his trap.

“Obviously yes.”

Nothing about this kiss is desperate or intense or hungry. In fact, the laziness of it all, the slow push and pull makes it so much more than you could’ve ever remember; it’s all so Mark and your whole body calls for his, pulling him closer, laughing in excitement. He is back. He is yours.

After a while of this, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“You’re going to stream this?” You whisper at him, eyes wide and body recoiling.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He groans, and that noise does something to you that has you closing your eyes and shivering. “I’m just texting our parents.”

“Why?”

“To tell them they can come back.”

“They knew?” You shoot up from where you are laying in his bed, arms hugging him from behind as you hide your face in his back. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing…”

“Of course they knew,” Mark scoffs at you. “I was going to ask you to marry me, then I though I should maybe start off slower, but I already talked to your dad about it.”

“What?!”

“Oh yeah,” He smirks, turning his head to kiss you deeply. “Expect a proposal in like, six months or something like that.”

“Mark–“

“Did she say yes?” A voice comes from the phone and you both look to where six heads are trying to fit into one screen. “Hyung, did you get dumped?”

“Uh, no, I did not get dumped, Bam,” Mark sighs, and gives you the phone. You’ve only met the guys briefly, but you, Yugyeom and Bambam had proven to be quite similar, and you laugh upon seeing the youngsters dab their excitement away.

“Hey guys!” You wave, moving to Mark’s lap so that they can see both of you. The tasing continues until your parents come home and then they just carry on where the boys left off, making jokes and complaining about the apparent delay in this relationship.

Somehow, going to sleep is hard. Your mind is still spinning from all that just happened, but when Mark jumps in through your open window and lays next to you, you know that no matter how confused you are, he’ll always be there to help you understand things a little better.

“I’m so excited to show you the apartment tomorrow,” He says, cuddling next to you. “Maybe that’ll be my first video for the YouTube channel.”

“Hm,” You turn in his arms, looking deep into his eyes. “I still think Bambam’s idea is better.”

“Y/N, don’t–“

“You should definitely play The Sims4 for your first video.”

And that’s when it hits you.

No matter how far away Mark is; no matter how busy he might be– Mark will always make time for the ones he loves. So no matter how sad goodbyes are, they are not forever… not with Mark Tuan.

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

First one of the series! How about it? What do you think? Let me know :D I’m excited to see Mark’s career take off in the US. Once again, thanks for the support lovelies, it means the world for me <3

[thetravelingmaster]

Short Story: Mystery Controller

Female’s Point of View - Hypnosis

I think someone has taken control of me... Of my mind... Of my body... It’s the only explanation I can muster as I find myself applying with the upmost care the most alluring lipstick and makeup. I can’t help myself or convince my body to stop. I just sit serenely in front of my mirror and make myself as beautiful as the make up I own will allow. The same goes for my hair. I spent what ever time is needed to dry and style my hair in a way that will best enhance the make up I've applied. I just can’t help it...Every evening, once I’ve eaten and gossiped with my friends online, I find myself wanting to take a long hot shower. Not that I think I need one per say, I just... WANT to wash my body. Even if I already had one earlier in the evening. it doesn't seem to matter. It’s become a routine I can’t shake... ​ Truth be told, I’ve never been this well maintained in ages... Which is rather nice since I never had the discipline to groom myself so frequently. It's admittedly refreshing to be able to see just how beautiful I can be. Not that I’m vain or into girls, but I spend so much time making myself attractive that I can’t help but admire  the obviously alluring end result.

Every night, after I’m done preparing myself, I can’t shake the desire to go sit in front of my computer. My heart even races in unknown anticipation as I convince myself that I NEED to sit there and open my computer. Some nights I don't really think about what I'm doing while I make myself beautiful and just kind of realize I'm sitting in front of my computer.

But other nights, I'm aware of every step I take as my body moves towards my desk. It's not like I feel compelled or pushed... No... It's more like... It's what I was going to do anyway? Bit like when you drive yourself home after work and let your thoughts wander and process the day. You don't really concentrate on what you are doing, but somehow, you end up driving home all the same. I guess that's how it feels when my little routine kicks in. My body just goes on auto pilot without me realizing what I'm doing until I'm either done or stop thinking about all the shit that goes on in my life. Like I've said, some times I'm aware of every step and other times I just kind of zone out until I'm sitting in front of my computer. But every single time it's happened, I just stop. I just stare at the screen... I don't get up or look around for something to do, I just stare... And I don't really WANT to do anything else, which is the weirdest part of this whole situation really. I just... Stare... I can’t remember opening up a web browser or even cuing up a video. I just... Stare at my desktop and wait... I used to to think I was waiting for a call, but no... I just wait and relax as I stare at my desktop. But some times... I think... I think I do open up a window... I have faint flashes of colors... Patterns... Words... But try as I might, I can’t make my mind focus on those memories. They just slip through my thoughts into the depths of my brain without leaving a lasting impression on my waking mind. Which has maybe me start to suspect that maybe... Yes... I believe someone is hypnotizing me... Brainwashing me maybe? I can’t be sure... I only know that every evening, I find myself staring at my desktop until I fall asleep... And then I wake up in the morning having had an incredibly refreshing night in my bed. Some times I think I had dreams... But most mornings, I just seem to forget how weird my evening is and just go about my day as if nothing happened. But something surely does... Because every night, I find myself with the unshakable desire to make myself pretty and sit in front of my computer... Wearing progressively sexier and more revealing outfits... So surely, someone has taken control of me and is making me sit in front of my own computer, watching me as my screen inevitably hypnotizes me with colors and patterns I’m not allowed to remember. Some days, I feel this dull trepidation... This inkling of panic as I try to remember why or who is doing this to me. I try to force myself to panic and react to the fact that someone is most definitely playing around in my head. But then, out of nowhere, I feel this incredible calm wash over me, making me so very docile as I slowly forget how worrisome this situation can be. Try as I might, I can’t fight it more than that. My logical brain tells me I should be scared, but I can’t bring myself to feel it. No... The only thing I feel is... Curious... Curious to know who is pulling my strings... Curious to know how that person has taken over my thoughts... Curious to know what they plan to do with me... Curious to know what they are doing now, while I stare helplessly at the screen... And yes... Admittedly, I feel slightly aroused... How could I not? Someone out there as taken upon themselves to take control of little old me. They’ve worked hard to worm their way into my life so they could take control and make me dress up as pretty as I can for them. I've never been one to feel aroused by being overly submissive, but something about the control this person has over me is... Seductive... Is that also something they control? I can't help but wonder if I'm discovering something that I always felt deep inside or if their control is now so deep that I feel aroused at the thought of being taken over by them. I guess I can't be sure... But I do know that I feel good every single morning after I wake up from the most restful nights of my life. That can't be all bad right? Besides... I’m not dating anyone and lately, I find that I just don’t WANT to date anyone... Is that their doing? If so... Why hadn’t they come over to see me? Is it because they live to far away? Or is it something else? Do they even plan to come see me for real? Or... Have they already? I don’t know and can’t muster the will to worry about it. Not too much anyway... The only thing I find myself yearning for is the calm staring that over takes me after I’m good and pretty. Something about the thoughtless stare I fall into as I peer intently at my desktop calls out to me in the most delicious way. Especially when I feel my heart flutter with unknown anticipation. Wondering if tonight will be different... Wondering if tonight I’ll remember more and dream about the things the screen has shown me... Wondering if I’ll ever be made to remember meeting my mystery controller...

[bigfrozenfan-fanfics]

Chapter 02 - The plan

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting.

Honeymaren stepped outside and quietly walked away from the kota, leaving the two alone. This was a deeply private moment, she felt instinctively. When she raised her head and looked around, she saw only sad faces and bowed heads. Yelana stood nearby and gently took her in her arms as she passed, knowing that Elsa was also very close to Honeymaren's heart.

The sun had set a few minutes ago and the first campfires were lit in the village. No stars had been seen in the sky above the Enchanted Forest for more than thirty-four years. But now the first of them appeared in the rapidly darkening firmament, and many of the Northuldra stared up in awe. Even though it had been a while since the magical fog had disappeared around the forest, it was a miracle for most of them to experience it.

It had become very quiet now and except for Kristoff and the others from Arendelle, nobody was standing in front of the kota anymore. No one spoke a word, not even Olaf. Then sobbing from inside could be heard and the flap of the hut opened. Anna stepped outside with her head down, tears in her eyes. Kristoff rushed towards her and gently put his arm around her shoulders. He felt her body tremble and wondered what was really wrong with Elsa. No one had told him anything, no one knew more.

Anna raised her head and looked into his eyes. Then she began to speak in a fragile voice and the others curiously came a bit closer. “Elsa is ... she ... ”, she broke off and began to sob again. “Kristoff, my sister has ... she didn't recognize me! She doesn't know who I am! She ... I talked to her, told her about me and Arendelle, about our parents, about Olaf, about all of us and about our experiences here in the forest too. The Spirits and Bruni, who she liked so much. Even about Ahtohallan and who she was afterwards, who we both were. The bridge. Of the fact that together we both freed the forest and the Northuldra, that she made me Queen of Arendelle.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Kristoff, she doesn't know anything anymore. Nothing at all! She ... she's forgotten all of us ... including me.”

Then Anna just couldn't take it anymore and collapsed. Anna slipped out of his grip to fall to the floor in front of him and screamed, “Elsa!”

She began to cry unrestrainedly and her body shook with helpless sorrow. Kristoff immediately knelt beside her and tried to comfort her in some way. Mattias watched helplessly as his queen let it all out. Halima took his hand and sobbed. Many Northuldra had rushed by the noise and watched in dismay. Olaf looked sadly over from Anna to the kota. He could not understand what was going on. Then he made a decision, walked towards the entrance of the hut and entered the inside.

It lasted only a few moments then a scream came out of the kota. “Ahhh ... get out! Help me! Get this thing out of here! Don't touch me! Get away! Get out of here!”

All heads went around startled and even Anna stared at the hut in disbelief. Seconds later the entrance opened and Olaf came out backwards. He turned around with his head down, walked a few steps and abruptly dropped to the ground. Then he started to move his body slowly back and forth. Over and over again.

Snowmen can't cry but with Olaf everyone had the impression he did now.

~~~

Anna grabbed Kristoff's hand and he helped her to rise. Then she went over to Olaf and took him in her arms. He needed comfort now, more than ever, and she hoped a warm hug from his best friend would help him. At first he did not react. His pain was just too great. Then he nestled his head on Anna's shoulder and began to speak softly.

“I don't understand this, Anna. How can Mom forget me? She's never yelled at me before.”

Again tears began to stream down Anna's face and she squeezed her eyes shut, hugging Olaf a little tighter. Olaf had never called Elsa that before! But he was right. Elsa had never yelled at anyone before. Never! Something had changed her. It wasn't just her memory loss or the fact that her skin was so unusually warm. It was almost as if she had become a different person.

Mattias gently squeezed Kristoff's shoulder and pulled him aside. “Let's leave the two of them alone and calm down a bit first. We need to talk.”

Kristoff nodded and they sat down together with Halima at the next campfire. “How could all this have happened. What can we do?” Kristoff looked at both of them for help.

Mattias hadn't known Elsa and the others for very long, so he was the only one in the group who could see the events emotionally at a distance and remained calm and composed. Not least because of his age and his background.

“I experienced something similar once before, with a soldier with a severe head injury. He couldn't remember anything afterwards, not even his own name. It took a very long time and was a difficult healing process, but little by little his memories came back.”

Kristoff started to answer when Yelana came out of the darkness to her crackling fire and sat down between him and Mattias. Everyone looked at her eagerly.

“You want answers and you are seeking for a solution. Unfortunately I cannot give you one. Even our healer has never experienced such a thing and is at the end of her abilities. But I can tell you what happened before you arrived.” And so she told them everything she knew and left out no detail, including the disappearance of the spirits and that Elsa's magic was apparently gone as well.

“We must take Elsa back to Arendelle. The more things she sees there from her past, the sooner her memories will hopefully return,” Mattias noted at the end of Yelana's report. “However, we should be careful that as few people as possible become aware of this. This whole thing could leave us vulnerable if details get out beyond Arendelle's borders.”

“Vulnerable?” wondered Kristoff.

Mattias looked at him with a serious look, “Elsa's magic and her status as Fifth Spirit. If it became known that she no longer possessed either, then ...”, he left the sentence open.

Kristoff couldn't imagine exactly what Mattias was thinking about, but nodded slowly. It was probably best to keep everything as secret as possible for now.

“I will ride back to Arendelle with Halima in the early morning and bring back a few reliable men and an inconspicuous means of transport. I will think of a reason for this and also bring a suitable disguise for Elsa. There's nothing we can do at the moment, so perhaps we should get some sleep.” At this, he looked questioningly at Yelana.

“I have already made sure that everything is prepared. The two kotas over there will be at your disposal for the next few days.” she replied and pointed in that direction.

Finally they all rose together and Kristoff looked over to Anna who was still cradling Olaf in her arms.

“Oh Anna!” he whispered and slowly walked over to her.

~~~

Kristoff managed with a lot of feeling and gentle words to get Anna and Olaf to go to one of the provided kotas for the night. He opened the flap and held it open for them. Inside the kota there were two very comfortable looking beds, which were covered with plenty of furs. Anna had to pull up her nose involuntarily when she entered and an intense reindeer smell hit her. She was used to Kristoff's odor, but this was different and almost took her breath away at first.

Kristoff didn't seem to mind when she turned to him, and he just closed the flap behind him with a motionless expression.

“Can you ... ,” she asked and nodded towards the entrance.

He raised his eyebrows, but then understood. “Uh ... yes of course. Sorry, I hadn't thought of that.” He fastened the flap to the outer sling and then came back in. A gentle night breeze blew through the inside and let Anna breathe a sigh of relief.

He let her choose one of the beds and Anna sat down on the front edge of one of them. Olaf pulled down one of the furs and lay wordlessly at the foot end. Anna looked over at Kristoff, who stood there undecidedly. Finally he sat down opposite her. For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence.

Then Anna said softly, “Remember when we talked about my past as a child?” He confirmed with a nod.

She let out a long sigh, “Well, I thought of that because of the similar situation with Elsa now and that I still can't remember by myself what happened to me that night when Grand Pabbie simply took away my childhood memories with Elsa's magic. Elsa told me everything a few years ago and helped me to visualize it. For that, I am infinitely grateful to her.”

Kristoff nodded, “Yes, I understand very well what you mean. I remember that it was pure coincidence that I followed this ice track that one of your parents' horses pulled behind it and that I was hidden behind a rock when I watched everything. I mean, I grew up with the trolls, but I had never seen this ability with Grand Pabbie before or known about it. To witness what he did with you and to see his visions about Elsa scared me a lot.” Kristoff was caught up in his memories for a moment. Then he shook his head. “But let's stop thinking about it. We better should go to sleep now.”

Anna quietly agreed, “Yes, you're certainly right. Let's better go to sleep.”

~~~

Kristoff lay awake for a long time, pondering her words and today's events. Pale moonlight flooded in from above and enveloped the kota in a diffuse light. Anna had a restless sleep as he could tell by the creaking of the bed. He looked over to her. Anna rolled back and forth, her breath went in jerks, her body twitched in her dream. Then she screamed out loud. Kristoff jumped out of bed and hurried to her.

“Anna!” He wiped away a tear with his thumb and stroked her cheek. She woke up, still breathing heavily, and looked at him.

“Please stay with me tonight,” she whispered and moved aside a little. He hesitated a moment, but then lay down next to her gently. Anna snuggled up against him.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“Sorry to wake you, but you had a bad dream and you even screamed.”

Anna hesitated a bit before answering him, “I dreamed about the cave. Where Olaf had dissolved in my arms. At that moment I believed ... I knew that Elsa hadn't made it, that she had gone too far. Everyone I loved had left me. I felt so lost, Kristoff. I don't know where I found the strength to get back up again. Honestly, nothing was the same anymore. I was so alone. It felt like I was the last person in this now-desolate world.” She paused, and Kristoff heard more than he saw in the dark, that she was crying again. “The way Elsa is now, it feels worse for me, as if she had died!” Kristoff swallowed hard. He was afraid of the next two days and how they would change his Anna.

“My bright star has gone. I have lost her,” she mumbled softly after a few moments before falling asleep again.

~~~

The next morning brought light rain and it had become quite cool. The sky showed grey clouds and the usually so friendly looking forest lay in grey shadows. The camp was quiet and not many of the Northuldra were on their way yet. Mattias was just about to saddle the horses when Kristoff, Anna and Olaf stepped out of the kota. Halima stood next to him and they talked quietly together.

Anna immediately cast an uncertain glance over to Elsa's cabin, while Kristoff walked over to the two as soon as he noticed them.

“Good morning, General ... Halima,” he said and nodded to them.

“Well, it could be a little better, Kristoff,” Mattias replied with a grin and wiped the raindrops from his face with one hand while holding the reins of the two horses with the other one.

“Morning, Kristoff. How is Queen Anna doing?” asked Halima and looked over to her.

“She's fine, but her sleep was restless,” Kristoff replied. All three looked over to her now and Mattias noticed the direction in which she still was looking.

“Take good care of our queen, Kristoff. All this has taken quite a toll on her and she now needs rest and someone to comfort her with attention. I'm convinced, you are the best man for that.”

“This of course is, General Mattias, thank you. Take good care of yourself on the way back. I'll see you in about two days.”

Mattias gave Kristoff a friendly slap on the shoulder. “We will. We'll hurry.” Then he helped Halima into the saddle and led both horses over to Anna and Olaf. He bowed respectfully to Anna. Halima did the same from the top of the horse. Anna looked at them and the horses in astonishment.

“You are leaving us already?”

“Good morning, Your Majesty, excuse our behaviour, but yes, we don't want to lose any time and want to be back here as soon as possible. Last night we all agreed that we want to bring Elsa back to Arendelle. Unfortunately there's not much we can do for her here now, but the doctors at home will surely find a solution. Kristoff knows all the details of our plan. Rest now, and don't grieve. Kristoff, Yelana and Honeymaren will take care of everything you need. Please do not worry. We'll be back in two days.”

Anna nodded wordlessly and he got on his horse in relief, turning it towards the big clearing. Then they both rode off, waving goodbye one last time. Kristoff stepped beside Anna, put an arm around her and they watched the horses disappear between the trees.

“It's gonna be all right, Anna.”

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know.

Tagging:  @karma26​ @whether-near-to-me-or-far​ @annaofthenorthernlights​

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty in the Blood - Part One

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined... 

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses! 

Warning: This chapter contains hints of smut and GRAPHIC descriptions of death and murder. Later on, this fic will also include rape/non con, dub con, kidnapping, yandere/obsessive elements, and even MORE graphic descriptions of death and murder. Please read at your own risk, and as usual, this is only for the eyes of those 18 and older. Thank you, and enjoy!

It was hard to find a decent guy these days. New York was the city of dreamers, artists, and absolute weirdos, and out of the three, you only seemed to attract the latter. You’d been to speed dating events and Singles Night at your local bar, but there was never a connection, never a spark, and every guy seemed to have something fundamentally wrong with him. It wasn’t that you were looking for the perfect guy, it was just that you’d met too many who were demanding, controlling, or misogynistic.  

You’d given up on finding your special someone a year after you’d moved to the city. After all, being single wasn’t too bad. You could do what you want whenever you wanted without having to think about someone else. So what if you didn’t have anyone to kiss on New Years? So what if you cried a little every now and then from feeling so alone? It was fine. It was absolutely fine, you told yourself. Fine, fine, fine…

“I’m absolutely fine, Wanda. I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy.”

You were sat across from your good friend, who was stirring her coffee with one hand while she tapped her fingers against the table with the other. She arched a skeptical eyebrow at you before taking a sip of her drink.

“You’re right; you don’t. But you’re lonely,” she pointed out. “A boyfriend would help with that.”

There was no denying that she was right. Wanda was perceptive, and she was also one of your closest friends. You’d met her during your first week of living in New York, and she’d helped you adjust to living in such a busy, fast-paced place. She probably knew you better than you knew yourself, and that was why you slumped in defeat and threw back the last gulp left of your mimosa.

“God, you’re right,” you bemoaned. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know,” she grinned. “But don’t worry; I can help.”

“Wanda, not that I don’t appreciate your effort, but the last guy you sent me out on a date with got mad that I didn’t put out after he paid for my dinner. I don’t want to go on any more blind dates.”

She winced, reaching over to pat the back of your hand.

“I had no idea Kyle was like that,” she promised you. “If I’d known he would be such an asshole you know I wouldn’t have set you up. But I wasn’t going to suggest another blind date.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“What did you have in mind, then?”

She grinned and reached into her purse, fishing around until she found her phone.

“I heard of a new dating app that made me immediately think of you,” she explained excitedly, pulling up the website and passing her device over to you. “It matches you with people in your area based on your Google searches!”

“Pfffft.” You scoffed, taking a quick glance at the screen before looking back to your friend. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard of.”

“I know, I know, it’s a strange concept. But it has one of the highest success ratings out of all the dating websites! It’s only been around for six months, but over half of its users say that they’ve found someone they can see themselves spending the rest of their lives with!”

“Statistics can be made up, you know,” you groused. “Besides, one look at my browser history would send anyone running in the opposite direction.”

“Maybe not someone who has one similar to yours,” she pointed out. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Wanda, you know what I do for a living, right? I could match with some kind of serial killer!”

Your friend just waved you off and ordered another coffee, picking up her phone again and stuffing it into her pocket.

“Just try it? Please?” she begged. “Just give it a shot, and if it doesn’t work out, then that’s that, right? No harm done.”

Several hours later, and you found yourself sitting on your couch, staring at the same website homepage that Wanda had shown you. You bit your lip, letting your fingers skim over your laptop’s keys, not typing anything just yet but feeling their ridges as you considered the “Join Now” button.

There wouldn’t be any harm in it, right? Just like Wanda said, if you hated the kind of people you matched with, then you could always delete your profile. And you didn’t only search things for your research, after all; you also googled recipes and cute animal videos. What if you matched with a gorgeous guy who’d also googled “Try Not To Laugh – Kitten Edition”? Hell yeah.

After taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you clicked on the button, making quick work of filling out the ‘About You’ information. Five minutes later, you’d chosen a profile picture and linked your Google account to the website, and you were ready to sift through your matches. The wheel on the screen turned slowly as your computer processed the information, and you actually jolted when it dinged with the results.

Well. Result. There was only one person who’d shown up with a similar search history as you. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, and you almost closed your laptop and went to retreat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s from your fridge, calling it a day and forgetting the whole debacle. But then you saw his profile picture and… Holy shit.

He was lean and pale, and your eyes were immediately drawn to his long, black hair. He had it slicked back in the photo with just one strand hanging down over his left eye. In the photo, he was wearing an exquisitely tailored black suit with a black shirt and tie underneath it, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail along the lithe contours of his body. He looked as if he were carved from marble; you almost started drooling just from the sight of him.

You jumped again when your computer dinged for a second time, and your eyes widened when you saw that you had a new message in your inbox. With fingers that were just barely trembling, you opened it, skimming over the message from the man you’d paired with.

Good evening. I must admit, I was quite surprised when I got the notification that we’d matched with one another. I’ve had this profile for about four months, and I’d had yet to be paired with anyone.

So he was handsome and eloquent. You clicked on his profile and blinked when you saw his name. Loki Odinson. Wow. Even his name was refined, if not a little strange; it sounded like a name you’d give to one of the characters in your books.

Hello, Loki, you typed out. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was pretty surprised to find someone else who has such a twisted search history. I don’t know if I should be happy or concerned.

It only took him a few moments to reply.

The feeling is mutual; I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for the morbidity, though. Mine is that I happen to be a coroner for a living. And yours is…?

I’m a writer, you explained, your interest piqued by his profession. I write murder mysteries. So, yeah… Morbidity seems like a fitting way to describe it.

A writer, you say. I happen to be quite an avid reader; would I know any of your work?

I’m not sure; have you ever heard of The Bell Ringer? That’s probably my most well-known book.

You’re kidding.

He sent you a picture, and it was of a pale hand holding a copy of The Bell Ringer, your name glistening in bold font beneath the title.

I’m a great fan of your work, as you can see. I own several of your novels.

Another photo loaded beneath the newest text, and it was of a shelf full of your books. The Shrew Woman, A Night in New Hampshire, The Hanging Woman – nine books in total. The only one that you’d written that wasn’t there was the one you’d just sent out to your publisher, and you suspected that once it was out in stores, it would be joining the ranks of Loki’s shelf.

Wow! It’s always so nice to meet a reader. I’m so glad you like my stuff!

Oh, love, you’re a huge talent. I must say, I’ve found your work rather inspiring.

That’s so kind of you to say!

I know that this is rather forward, but are you doing anything tonight?

You glanced up at the clock you had hanging on the wall – 8:13 pm. It was already pretty late; typically you’d be putting on your pajamas and curling up in bed to do some late night reading here soon. But something inside of you whispered that you should do it; you weren’t spontaneous enough. What if this was an opportunity to meet the One? At the very least, it would be cool to meet such a loyal reader.

It depends on if this guy I’m talking to online asks me out. Do you think he will?

He would have to be a fool not to. I suspect he’ll ask you if you’d like to meet at a café.

Well, then, I suspect I’ll have to say yes.

An excited grin was plastered over your lips as you bantered back and forth, and when Loki sent you an address and a message saying ‘I’ll see you there in twenty minutes’, you jumped off of your sofa and rushed to put on your shoes. You were still dressed in the leggings and oversized sweater you’d worn to brunch with Wanda, and all you had to do was straighten your hair and pull on your boots before you were out the door. The address he’d sent you was within walking distance of your apartment; in fact, you’d been there before, but never on a date.

Your heart was pounding the entire way over, and you couldn’t get over how unlike you this was. You didn’t just get up and meet guys you’d met on the internet on such short notice, much less so late at night. And yet here you were, stepping into the café fifteen minutes after receiving Loki’s message. Your eyes scanned the room, but it appeared that he wasn’t there yet. As you got in line to order, you tried to calm yourself, not wanting to look too frazzled when your date finally showed up. You tried to even your breathing, twisting the fabric of your sleeves between your nervous fingers.

He’s just a person, you told yourself. You’ve been on dates before; everything was going to be fine. Nothing bad was going to-

“Hello, there.”

You gasped and turned around, eliciting a chuckle from the man now towering over you. He was dressed in a set of black trousers with a simple white button-down tucked into them, and his hair was loose and falling around his shoulders. His grin was wide and full of teeth, with just the slightest sinister edge to it. But his eyes were warm and twinkling with excitement and just a hint of mischief. Those clear blue irises brought a smile to your own lips, and you chuckled along with him at your initial fright.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you walk in,” you explained.

“It’s quite alright,” he assured you, offering his hand. “I know you already are aware, but I’m Loki.”

You grinned and introduced yourself, going to shake his hand, but he smoothly cradled your fingers and drew them up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person,” he cooed, seemingly all too aware of how flustered you now were.

You opened your mouth to say something in return, but you couldn’t think of anything to say as silence lay heavily between the two of you. You were saved, though, when the barista called out to you, asking if she could take your order. You spun around on your heel and shot her a grateful glance before ordering your favorite menu item and reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“…And I’ll have a cup of Earl Grey,” Loki stepped in, handing her a card from his open wallet.

“Oh, I could have paid for mine,” you protested, but he waved you off.

“No, no, love. It’s my treat.”

He gave you a tight, close-lipped smile, and you didn’t protest further as he paid for your orders. He led you to a booth in the corner, sliding into the side opposite to yours gracefully. The leather squeaked against your thighs as you shuffled in, and when you were finally settled across from him you caught a flicker in his eye that sent chills up your spine.

It was gone in an instant, though, replaced by the same suave look he’d had while ordering his tea.

“So,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “As I said before, I’m a fan of your work. Truly, I have been since your very first novel.”

“’Beauty in the Blood’?” you asked incredulously. “I’m surprised; no one seems to like that one. After reading it, my mom suggested that I start going to therapy.”

Loki chuckled, licking his lips, and your eyes followed his tongue of their own accord.

“Ah, well, whether or not that’s true, it’s still my favorite of your works by far,” he continued. “The parts told by the killer’s perspective were…beautiful. You captured his mind so artfully, it was as if…”

He paused, searching your face for a moment.

“It was as if…you understood him,” he finished.

You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking over his words. He’d skipped right over the small talk you’d come to suspect on first dates, but despite how strange of a direction the conversation was taking, you were…intrigued by it.

“Well,” you started, “I feel like I did understand him.  I mean, sure, he took delight in the killing of others; he saw it as an art form. But as twisted and evil as he was, he was still a person – a person that had come from my mind. Cuz the thing is…”

You paused, gathering your thoughts and trying to find the right words to convey them.

“The thing is,” you spoke carefully, “that every storyteller uses bits and pieces of themselves to tell a story. A story is like a stained glass window – it’s made up of different pieces of an author’s mind and soul, and it comes together to create something greater than the sum of those pieces. So, yes, I think I can understand him; his darkness might be a reflection of my own – deep, deep down.”

You glanced up at him, blinking when you saw the transfixed look upon his face. His eyes were wider than they had been before, and his lips were parted as he listened.

“Sorry,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I, uh… I got a little carried away. You probably think I’m some kind of freak-“

“I think you’re beautiful.”

His words took your breath away, and when the barista set down your cups on the table, you jumped in surprise.

“Is there anything else I can get you guys?” she asked cheerfully, and a flash of annoyance crossed over Loki’s face at the interruption.

“We’re fine,” you assured her quickly, giving her a polite smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome!”

You gripped your mug tightly as she walked away, savoring its heat as it warmed up your cold hands.

“So,” you said, desperate to break the sudden silence that had fallen over the table, “you mentioned that you’re a coroner. What drew you to your profession?”

Loki sipped his tea, humming as he thought over the question.

“Well… The conversation has already veered towards the darker side of things,” he mused. “I might as well tell you the story.

“When I was twelve years old, my sister killed herself,” he began.

“Oh, Loki, I’m so sorry-“

“Oh, no, don’t be,” he interrupted. “We weren’t close at all. I was adopted at a young age, you see, and Hella never accepted me. She was cruel, and she took every opportunity she could to remind me of my inadequacies.

“But, as I said, one day she died. At first, we didn’t know how it happened; there were no marks on her body whatsoever. She just looked like she was sleeping as she lay there in bed. We called the hospital, and the police, and eventually the coroners discovered that she’d injected bleach into her arm. Later on, my mother found the syringe under her bed, and all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. We finally knew the how and the when, and I never really cared much about the why.

“…That probably makes me sound like a monster, doesn’t it?”

You sat back, swallowing a scalding-hot sip of your drink before answering.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “I don’t think that makes you a monster. She abused you; it’s only natural that you found some relief in her death. I would’ve probably felt the same way.”

He studied you for a moment, tracing the lip of his cup with his index finger.

“I wonder if you would have…” he murmured to himself, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it.

“Well,” he sighed, plastering a smile on once more and straightening up, “you probably aren’t going to be very keen on a second date if I keep dragging our conversation into subjects like this. Tell me, where are you from? What made you move to the city?”

“How do you know I’m not from here?”

“Love, neither of us have the New York accent, now do we?”

You laughed, and after that the two of you fell into an easy flow; it seemed that the heavy beginning of the date made it all the easier to talk to him. You discussed what you liked about the city and what you didn’t like; you learned that Loki was originally from a small town right outside of London, and that he has an adopted brother named Thor that he was close to.

“He’s an oaf,” he’d said when you’d asked what his brother was like. “Everything about him is literally the opposite of its coinciding part of me. But…he loves me; he never thought of me as the adopted child. I was always just his brother; despite his shortcomings, I think he does mean well. Besides, his IQ level is in the single digits, so I’m afraid I must look out for him for fear of what would happen if he were left to his own devices.”

From there, you shared stories about growing up, about life and ex partners and mistakes and successes. Before you knew it, the happy barista from before was approaching your table again, this time with a nervous smile.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted. “I’m so so sorry to bother you, but we’re closing up…”

Loki glanced down at his watch as you glanced at your phone – 10:30.

“Shit,” you laughed. “I had no idea. Time flies…”

Your date shot a glare at the barista before his eyes flickered to you. He gave you a wide, close-lipped smile and straightened his collar, raising his eyebrows.

“Then I suppose it’s time for us to head out,” he murmured. “May I escort you home?”

“Oh! Of course. If it’s not too far out of your way…”

“Even if it is,” he smiled, “I still want to walk you home.”

Your heart fluttered, and you set a five dollar bill on the table as a tip before standing up. The barista scurried away, and you almost turned to apologize to her for Loki’s cold shoulder. But you didn’t know him well yet; maybe that’s just how he was. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it.

“You guys have a good night!” she called out after you, and you smiled over your shoulder at her before reaching for the door. Loki’s hand darted out and grabbed the handle before you could, opening it for you with a slight bow.

“After you, my lady.”

“How chivalrous.”

The two of you walked side by side down the street, hands brushing as you strolled down the sidewalk. You glanced upwards, smiling at the scattering of stars overhead as your breath fogged in the chilly air. You shivered, rubbing your arms a little bit to ward off the chill. Loki evidently caught the movement, and you felt his arm drape around your shoulders. You leaned into the warmth of his body, tilting your head up to share a grin with him.

“Again – chivalrous.”

He chuckled, squeezing you for a beat.

“I try my best… It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as you, but…very pretty.”

You laughed and hid your face in his neck.

“Stop… You’re too charming.”

“Oh, really? I was under the impression there was no such thing.”

The two of you fell back into a companionable silence as you guided him towards your brownstone, until he spoke up once again.

“I must say… There’s a question that I’ve been meaning to ask you that I’m just…dying to know the answer to.”

“Go ahead, Loki. I’m an open book.”

He laughed softly again, hesitating before voicing his question.

“If you were to kill someone, how would you do it?”

You paused, thinking over your response.

“Well… Why am I killing them? Is it a crime of passion or a crime of necessity? Am I killing them just for the enjoyment of it, or out of revenge, or because the person needs to die for a bigger cause?”

“That… That is actually an excellent follow-up question,” Loki mused. “Let’s say… A crime of necessity. The person needs to die for a personal reason with no anger or revenge in mind. How do you do it?”

You bit your lip, calling to mind all of your morbid Google searches that might apply.

“Um… Air shot between the toes,” you finally said. “Fill a syringe with air and inject it between their toes while they sleep. It’ll look like a heart attack that way.”

Unbeknownst to you, warmth suddenly bloomed in Loki’s chest, and you glanced up just in time to catch the fond, almost…loving gleam in his eye. He quickly looked away, tilting his head up to look at the stars, but you’d caught it. And it wasn’t that it unsettled you; you weren’t uncomfortable because of the look. You were uncomfortable because you hadn’t been upset by it. You’d felt that same flutter once again as butterflies batted around your rib cage.

Nothing more was said as you turned the corner that led to your street, and you silently ascended your home’s steps with Loki’s arm still around your shoulders. You reluctantly slid your key into the lock, only turning to him once your door was opened a crack.

“I had… A really good time with you, Loki,” you told him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. “I know that this isn’t what you’re supposed to say to a guy after a first date; I know that it might scare you away. But I want you to know that I haven’t felt this way in a long… Actually, I’ve never felt this way. And it’s really scary, but I hope… I hope we can do this again sometime soon.”

Loki’s eyes softened, and he moved his arm from around your shoulders to your cheek.

“I haven’t felt his way, either,” he murmured. “But I know that I don’t want the feeling to go away.”

He was leaning forward, his eyes closing, and your heart leapt into your throat as you met him halfway. His lips were cold, and smooth, and soft as they pressed against yours, and you leaned into his touch when he pulled you closer by your hips. A sound escaped your throat as his tongue darted out, licking past the barrier of your mouth to glide itself against yours. His hands came up to cradle your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing against your cheekbones as your lips moved against one another, and you hummed once again as your chests pressed together.

You don’t know who pulled away first, but you spent a moment just taking in one another’s essence, your foreheads pressed together as the fog of your breaths mingled. You heard Loki let out a chuckle, and you looked up curiously.

“What is it?”

“I’ve just…” He licked his lips and let out another soft laugh before pulling away.

“I’ve just never felt like this before,” he repeated.

You smiled and pressed a peck to his lips before walking towards your door again.

“Have a good night, love,” he called after you, and you paused in the doorway to blow him a kiss.

“You too, Loki.”

You shut your door, missing the way his gaze darkened as he stared at the façade of your building.

“Oh, I will, darling. I will.”

__________

Loki hummed to himself, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he clenched and unclenched his fists. The silver of the table gleamed under the fluorescent lights of his basement, and the air was musty, thick with the smell of iron…and decay. Instruments and tools were lined along the wall in front of him - knives, machetes, a hatchet… It was cliché; he knew that. But he just hadn’t been able to resist the temptation while designing this special room.

A muffled scream sounded from behind him, and he rolled his eyes before turning back to the perky little barista who was currently strapped down to another metal table he’d “borrowed” from the hospital morgue.

“Are you honestly still trying to scream for help?” he snarked, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’ve told you; you’re currently under about five feet of solid concrete. Who will hear you? Who will help you?”

The girl let out a sob, and he watched her big blue eyes flicker to the wall just over his shoulder before coming to rest on him again. They were red and swollen, and he let out a coo of false sympathy.

“Oh, don’t worry, little girl. None of these are for you.” He grinned, turning back to the table behind him. “You can thank my new lover for that. No, she inspired me to take a different direction this evening.”

A small, genuine smile came over his face as he picked up the large syringe, turning it over in his hands.

“She’s been inspiring me for a while, actually,” he mused, ignoring the screams as he sauntered over to his victim, syringe in hand. “She’s such a brilliant writer, my darling is. It truly was fate that brought us together; if I’d had known that my favorite author was a beautiful young woman who also lived in Manhattan, well… I’m sure I would have found her sooner. But I won’t dwell on lost time; I’ll just have to make up for it.”

He ran a hand over the girl’s knee, trailing it down her shin even as she struggled against the strong ropes twined around her wrists and ankles. As his hand gripped the arch of her foot in an iron-like hold, he let his eyes close. This was always his favorite part – the moments right before death. The anticipation was like foreplay; it got him just as hot and eager, and the payoff was very nearly comparable. If he were ever asked to describe the feeling of ending another person’s life, of ripping out the remaining chapters from their story before it could be written, the only thing he’d be able to compare it to was an orgasm. That white-hot pleasure that flooded his veins was addictive, as was the lead up he was experiencing right now.

“You know,” he mused, slowly drawing back the plunger of the syringe, “my girl is so smart… Not a lot of people would think to off someone like this. But it’s not as easy as you would think; you can’t just use any old syringe. It has to be big, has to be a lot of air. And you have to be careful; if you hit muscle, it won’t be fatal, and the whole endeavor would be for naught. But if you hit a vein, and if you get a big enough pocket of air…”

The duct tape on her mouth did little to quell her scream as he inserted the needle into her flesh. A novice might not be able to find a vein, especially not in a foot, but the years of medical school paid off, just as they did every day at his job. He injected the empty cartridge into her vein, groaning and letting his eyes drift shut. He was slow about removing the needle; the separation of steel from skin was slow, intimate… Gentle.

“Hush…” he whispered, drawing out the word with a hiss. “It’s done now, love. It’s done.”

He let his arm fall to the side, and he took a step back, watching the girl start to settle down as he put some distance between them. He gently set the syringe down onto the table before crossing the room to the armchair in the corner. Letting out a soft grunt, he lowered himself into the seat, crossing his legs and letting his head fall back.

“Fuck, what a day,” he sighed. “This isn’t what I was expecting when I woke up this morning.”

Loki lifted his head and gave the young girl a wry smile.

“As you may have guessed, this isn’t my first time doing something like this,” he began. “But I do try to limit myself. I may take…five victims a year. Maybe six or seven if I’m particularly stressed. My last one was on New Year’s, though. I’m not due for a killing for another few months, but… That girl really had me going.

“I was hoping that she’d invite me in tonight,” he confessed. “Though I wasn’t expecting it. It was our first date, after all. But a man can hope, can’t he? If she had invited me to stay the night, you wouldn’t be here right now. Alas, though… I had all of these pent up feelings that I had to do something with. And you were so…obnoxious back at the café. I couldn’t tell if you were being genuine with your disgusting, overbearing cheerfulness or if it was as fake as your blonde hair. But, god, did it get under my skin…”

The girl let out a sob, and he noticed that she was beginning to shake. He chuckled, feeling himself grow hard in his trousers as he thought of you. You’d come up with this idea, this beautiful, drawn-out murder. Such a sweet, innocent looking girl on the outside. But such delicious, pure wickedness within.

“Fuck,” he huffed, palming himself through his pants. “Despite the nuisance you made of yourself, today was so perfect… She’s the One, you know. The one and only girl who can ever complete me. I didn’t even believe in this sort of thing this morning, but for the first time in my life, I’m glad I was wrong.”

He forced himself to still his hand, moving it to his knee as his jaw clenched. In the past, he’d done this in front of a few of his victims; male or female, if they were pretty, young things, the act of killing them made him so hard that he had to touch himself as he watched them squirm on his table. But not tonight, not after you. That part of himself was only for you, now, and he was strong enough to resist the urge until his was the only heart beating under his roof.

And so he sat back and watched. At first, the girl only shivered, and after thirty minutes he was afraid that he hadn’t injected enough air into her. But then he noticed the way she was breathing; it was like she was a fish out of water, and the slope of her furrowed eyebrows betrayed the pain she was in.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, voice thick. At first she didn’t answer, but then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. He hummed in understanding, hiding his grin behind his hand as he scratched his chin.

“How marvelous.”

He knew she wouldn’t last long when her skin started to turn blue. After an hour, the seizures began, jolting and shaking her body as if she were a ragdoll. He watched in fascination, his cold, blue eyes never leaving her tied-up form. Soft, strained whimpers were leaving her throat, and he let out a purr as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

His joints popped as he stood up, and the heels of his shoes clicked against the concrete floor as he rounded the table, making his way to her pretty blonde head. He slowly, deliberately pulled the duct tape away from her mouth, and he chuckled at how blue her lips had become.

“This is a much better look on you,” he observed. “This is so much more real than those saccharine smiles.”  

She finally went still 84 minutes after the injection. Even after her heart stopped beating, he stood over her, watching the unnatural stillness of her chest. Despite all of the corpses he’d created over the years, and despite the years he’d spent in his profession, it was still something that he’d never gotten used to. People weren’t supposed to be that still; people were supposed to blink, and smile, and talk, and breathe, but the things they became after death did none of those things. They didn’t move, and they didn’t feel, and there was always a moment of disgust when he first laid eyes on a fresh corpse.

But it passed quickly, even quicker than normal tonight. The disgust faded away and left behind pure, unadulterated lust as his thoughts strayed once more to you. Typically, he would stay behind, lingering in the basement to dispose of the body. Sometimes, if he wasn’t too tired, he would actually drive out and deposit them in whatever spot he’d predetermined to be the one the police were to find them in.

But tonight, he left the corpse there on the table. He flicked the lights off and climbed the first, then the second set of stairs, peeling off his gloves and petting his cat on the way to his bedroom. He showered, then combed his hair, then settled down between his silk sheets completely naked. Then, and only then, did his hand travel down to his cock, and his mind once again, indubitably, trekked back to you. Your face, your voice, your beautiful fucking mind…

The thought that finally made him cum was the picture of him fucking you in a pool of blood on his basement floor, of the bright crimson painting your skin as he let his hands worship your body. The thought followed him into his dreams, ruby red and throbbing to the beat of his heart as he slept deeply into the night.

_____________

Detective Romanoff stood side by side with her partner in front of the dead body, hands planted firmly on her hips as she chewed her lip.

“How old did you say she was?” she asked the coroner, her eyes flicking down to the rope burn on the woman’s – the girl’s – wrists and ankles.

“Twenty,” was Dr. Odinson’s accented reply. He turned around, glancing between the two detectives before taking a deep breath and turning his attention back to the body. “I’m afraid that there won’t be much investigating for the two of you to do here. The cause of death was a heart attack, pure and simple.”

“A twenty year old girl having a heart attack?” Detective Rogers scoffed. “I think you got your wires crossed, there, Loki.”

Natasha watched as a muscle in the coroner’s jaw twitched, and he let out a frustrated huff as he peeled off his medical gloves.

“Detective, this sort of thing happens all the time – freak accidents that can strike even the healthiest of people. They are…unfortunate, but they’re also a fact of life.” He tossed the balled up gloves into a trash can and whisked past them, bending over to type something into the laptop resting on his desk as he continued speaking to them.

“After reviewing her medical records, I found out that her father died two years ago from a heart attack; if I were a gambling man, I would say that a bad set of genes were the only culprit here.”

“What about the marks on her wrists?” Natasha asked. “They gotta mean something, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Loki smirked, cutting his eyes over at her before straightening up. “It probably means that little Miss…” He paused, glancing down at a paper resting beside his computer. “Miss Allison Berry was into bondage before her untimely demise.”

“A woman is lying dead, Odinson,” Rogers spat. “Show some respect.”

Loki raised his hands up in surrender as he sauntered towards them.

“I apologize if I offended you, Detective,” he replied coolly. “I meant no disrespect. But I’ve run all the tests in the book. There were no signs of sexual assault, no signs of foul play. I’ll type up a proper report for the two of you, but I’m telling you now – the girl died of a heart attack.”

Natasha and Steve shared a look before turning back to the doctor.

“Have the report ready for us before the end of the day,” she ordered, patting Steve on the shoulder and gesturing for him to follow her as she made her way out of the cold morgue.

“Whatever you say, Officer.”

Natasha froze mid-step, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck bristle as a thousand images flashed through her mind after hearing him say that word. She gulped, oblivious to the confused look Steve was giving her, and she kept walking without turning back around.

“It’s Detective, now, doctor.”

The door clicked shut behind them, cutting off Loki’s dark chuckle as he was once again was left alone with Allison Berry’s body. His smile didn’t fade as he pulled on another pair of gloves; if anything, it grew as he finished the young woman’s autopsy.

“I was being honest with them; you know that, don’t you?” He winked at the girl’s unseeing eyes, his hands moving of their own accord as he stitched up the clean line he’d cut through the skin, bone, and muscle of her chest.

“It was just a heart attack.”

[incoherentbabblings]

Fic Ask Game

@horchenhearken asked for one last fic which I am very happy to write! Another massive thank you for the art, I hope you enjoy this! I ended up picking number...

#52 - “I better not hear anything coming from your room!”

“I’m gonna head up, Tim.” Stephanie murmured, kissing his cheek.

“’Kay.”

“Don’t be too late.” She chided uselessly, leaving the kitchen in Wayne Manor and padding upstairs to Tim’s room. Tim watched her go, clicking open a new tab on his browser and heading to some hidden bookmarks he had made. He was sat in his pyjamas, hair wet, back from a relatively calm night of patrol. He looked over at the clock above the fruit bowl.

Half four in the morning.

Don’t be too late seemed to have moved on to Don’t be too early, but Tim supposed Stephanie had a point. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and continued to browse through various rings.

Just browsing.

Honest.

He chewed his fingers, getting flustered as he looked. What would she even like? Was it too risky to ask? How did people go about this whole thing anyway? It wasn’t like he could ask Bruce, right? Oh no. Never Bruce.

“Don’t go for a solitaire. They’re too popular at the moment.” Dick said, resting his chin on Tim’s head.

Tim froze. Where the hell did he come from?

There was an uncomfortable pause as slowly, Tim muscles relaxed. It was just Dick. He could ask Dick for advice. Dick had bought rings before (regardless of how the wedding turned out), he would know the whole process, he would –

“Agreed. Get something colorful.” Jason said, peering over Tim’s left shoulder.

Tim yelled, unnaturally high pitched, and slapped the laptop shut. Duke was standing behind the counter, looking at little confused at Tim’s panic. His look only increased in concern when Tim wailed again.

“What the hell, dude?” Duke said, raising his hands passively.

“Where did you all come from?” Tim wheezed. Dick reached over and re-opened the laptop. Duke wandered around the counter so he could see for himself. Jason took an obnoxious sip of water, the gurgling making Tim twitch.

“Let us see…” Dick said, reaching around and caging Tim in. “Oh, come on Tim. Tiffany’s? Basic.”

“Basic.” Duke parroted.

Tim whimpered, trying to close the laptop and flee.

“You know,” said Jason, swallowing obnoxiously. “I saw Pippa Wang’s engagement ring the other day before the Mr Freeze froze the gala dinner. Must have been like six carats.”

“I’m not looking for an engagement ring!” Tim lied, looking up at Dick, openly pleading. “Bruce would throw us in the river if he thought we were getting married this young!”

“Oh disgusting!” Damian uttered, appearing at Tim’s elbow. “You and Brown married? Vile concept.”

Tim slapped Damian across the head, shock at the final brother’s appearance making way for a short temper with his insult towards Steph.

This caused a bit of a ruckus, assorted yelling and tugging and pulling, but finally Tim managed to wiggle his way out of the kitchen with his laptop held tight in his arms, more precious than a baby. Ignoring the calls for him to come back, he turned the corner to go up the stairs, only to bump into Cassandra, who laughed at his panic.

“Okay?” She said, correcting his posture.

“No. No, I am going to bed. Goodnight!” He yelled back at the kitchen, receiving responses from Dick and Duke (ever the polite ones).

Cassandra took a good look at Tim then smiled so broadly her eyes closed.

“I saw Steph go in earlier. Night Tim!”

He sighed, his entire body slouching, and slumped away up the stairs. God he was tired and his brothers were deliberately akin to gnats or mosquitoes and he just wanted a moment’s peace and q—

“I better not hear anything coming from your room!” Cassandra called up, winking knowingly.

Tim legitimately screamed and dropped the computer. He gnashed his teeth in frustration then leaned over the bannister.

“Good night Cassandra.”

She closed her eyes and smiled, wiggling her head, then she was gone through to the kitchen.

Before Tim could catch his breath, his bedroom door opened, and out came Stephanie, bleary eyed. She saw the laptop crashed on the floor and picked it up. Tim’s breathing halted, and he silently cursed his family.

“Honestly, what’s all the yelling about…” She trailed off, seeing the tabs that were open. She looked at Tim, who looked back, mouth wide open enough to catch flies.

Crap.

[resetpermalik]

Mass Music Measurements Survey Form

A freeCodeCampChallenge

Gaining Speed

This marks my second freeCodeCamp challenge. As I mentioned in my after action report from the first FCC challenge (tribute page), it took some time to finally gain traction and fully complete that project. That was a problem with (one) unnecessary complexity of design and (two) a lack of planning (before I began to code.) It was my assumption that if I laced the project with many working parts, I would learn much, much faster; also, that by getting right to the code, I could pick up the syntax, semantics and general knack for writing (code) in less time. And wow, I was very incorrect in thinking so.

As a response to my previous poor start (with my tribute page,) this time I was better able to address some lessons which had only occurred to me when halfway through the last project. So this time, I really dialed in the importance of streamlining my initial paperwork designs, learning how to more proficiently use Figma and some of its tools, how to better approach icon design with Photoshop and vastly improve my entire workflow. This provided (not only) an easier build, but also a more efficient angle by which I was empowered to catch more lessons along the way.

In the next few paragraphs, I will detail just which specific advantages I picked up in terms of HTML5, CSS3 and JavaScript capability. In addition, I will move through some of the tactics I employed to help me finish this challenge with much more confidence than the last.

Planning Stages

When I set out to hand-write the marked goals (set down by FCC’s challenge,) I do find it tedious. The thing is, I am copying (in my own words) precisely what the challenge is demanding of me. Let me elaborate…

With every line, I am telling myself that I really do not need to do this. I mean, I can pretty easily peer over at the other browser window (when necessary) and see exactly what my marching orders are. Though albeit true, there are a couple of key differences in (one) reading from FCC and (two) writing/reading my own notes.

As I write out every expected step of my project, I can build an image immediately for how I would like my creation to take shape. This falls in line with the visual aspects and design, the color scheme, the functionality of each element and the code itself. It is a powerful method to which I will pay better respect going forward. (I already have plenty of ideas on how to implement more potent procedures — like larger drafting paper, (which will allow for a greater landscape on my pages, maybe using a tablet for notation and perhaps a few voice recordings along the way)). Now, I may be getting ahead of myself! Back to the plans..

And so writing out the objectives is terrific for lots of reasons, but moving to the drawn design itself — this may be the most crucial bit yet. Here’s the deal. When I physically drew the (expected) survey form, I may have well completed the whole project. So what does that mean?

I took so much liberty in imagining what the design should resemble. More specifically, I let my mind wander and allowed thoughts to spill out onto the legal pad before me. This (in combination with my understanding of how everything needed be expressed in code) let me structure my rough draft with such a degree that the next step made the actual coding like an exercise in copy and paste. I’ll expound…

I was drawing parts which were effectively elements of HTML. This was followed by some (more precise) markings of pseudo-code (which amounted to about all of the HTML I required to code for the whole challenge.) So, when I say the planning has proved to be useful, this would be an undestatement. This attention to planning has made it possible for me to avoid the ‘nuts and bolts’ in my code editor. Now, this advancement is massive, because the saved time and effort was a testement to why I was then able to better learn more intricate detail when coding. And now let’s get to those lessons and the code at large.

Within Earshot of Paper and Pencil

My goal is not to elaborate on the use of specific technologies, but more-so the process itself. however, I will briefly touch on Figma and Photoshop…

Using Figma helped me focus on each element and understand how they more literally fit together in the puzzle. I was able to name every piece such that it would show me what my HTML element should be in code and how each need be named. Also, I took those separate entities and grouped them such that I could postion everything exactly as I wished. My next goal with Figma will be to utilize the ‘component’ feature and truly unroll some strong functionality of the software.

Regarding Photoshop, I made a logo for my survey and spun it into a favicon with relative ease. In an attempt to create animations and advertisements for my affiliate site, I have better come to understand Photoshop’s effectiveness. Thereby, building my icon was fairly straightforward. I simply pieced it together with a couple of layers and exported the PNG. I still want to be able to employ SVGs for this application; but until now, I haven’t perfected the craft. I will leave that for the coming FCC challenge. Onward!

Coding the Beast

The first topic to address here is quite obvious for me… SUITE TESTING.

When I began coding this project, I wrote my HTML boilerplate and immediately tied in the FCC testing script so I could begin verifying my code at every turn. I’ll elaborate…

I ran into a few issues with debugging throughout my last project; those were problems which resulted in code errors piling up on me simultaneously. And, while an error (for which you don’t know the remedy) is frustrating…several of those errors (all at once) becomes infuriating. Luckily, I ran into a great solution. Unit testing.

By instantiating the FCC test suite before I began coding the bulk of my project, I was then gifted the opportunity of verifying each of the sixteen goal posts.

In more detail, nearly no problems snuck up on me while coding the breadth of this project because I was adamant on addressing them in real time (as they appeared). What a true life-saver...

Input Text (element, attribute)

I found it repetitive and annoying at first, when the 10th goal of this challenge asked me to give both the input and label elements their own respective and corresponding ids. This was because I (very simply) did not understand the request. Along with that, I definitely didn’t understand why it was being asked (to begin with.) 

That said, I now realize that the goal was to identify the label for the text field, in addition to the field itself. In understanding this distinction, I have now been able to find value in this very feature.

By giving ids to both my labels and input texts, I was then able to style each distinctly and find them with more ease (while peering though my HTML.) Now here’s real solid tip which I will not soon forget.

Don’t Pick More Than One Option!

So, I was writing the code for my radio buttons and what happened next is certainly a rookie mistake. When I navigated to my browser (in order to test the options,) I found that EVERY one of my buttons was clickable. And this, for obvious reasons, is not ideal.

This solution was super easy. All I needed to do was unify (or make each value the same for) the input-radio buttons. After I placed cloned values for each radio button, only one option could then be chosen. Success!

Nitpick the Name and Ids

This is something which should possibly be glossed over. But, when working with various input fields, I was asked to employ many names and ids for each.

While I’m not entirely certain (even now) whether there is a standard for which comes first, I have come to realize that name attributes should possibly supercede id attributes.

Using Visual Studio Code, it seems to like placing names before ids. And in a real life estimation, using name over id seems to be old-fashioned, but admirable.

More seriously, I understand in code, name will be less subjective (while more actionable) and ids will more far more particular and prone to alteration.

Dropdown

I was in a position to use dropdown boxes twice in this project. The problem I came across was that my options continued to begin with the default option as selectable. While I learned the solution quickly and with ease, I believe it should be recorded as vital.

When inserting a placeholder option in a dropdown box, in order to keep it from being a clickable entity, you have to style it as such.

I called the id of the option in my CSS sheet and set its display as none. That easy.

Pseudo Class and Element Selectors

Very little of my experience with this challenge dealt with pseudo class or pseudo element selectors. But, I will cover (in short) what I did learn (with these topics in mind.)

Using a pseudo element selector is the best (or maybe only) way to call an attribute from an HTML element and style with CSS.

This is how I was able to change the appearance of my placeholder text in each input-text.

I know pseudo class selectors are the way to alter elements (in a certain state) like ‘hover’ or ‘before’, but I haven’t used them enough to expand this monologue. That said, I’ll press on…

Attribute Selectors

In confluence with my previous words, I may have provided a misnomer to exactly what was being modified with pseudo-elements. But, I digress (and hopefully you see what I mean).

Using attribute selectors is quite different from other selectors, because you will be placing true brackets in as your selector which house your attribute, followed by an equal sign and a set of quotations (housing your value.)

Looks like this [attribute=“value”]. And that’s that!

Media Queries

While I employed media queries for this project, I have yet to fully grasp exactly how to use them (in reference to appropriation and context.) Therefore, I will not go into detail; but, only mention that I used them to alter my CTA button across pixel-widths. Also, I realized that setting a new media query works better when starting with the immediate values from your last screen size.

A Bit of JavaScript

The big task I pushed for in this project was this: change the client-side font family for a text area as the user types. And by big, I mean, it took me about as long as the rest of the whole challenge to learn this functionality with JavaScript. That said, I now understand much better how JS semantics are employed. And, that’s pretty priceless…

For this goal, I inserted a script with an event listener. First, I started with DOMContentLoaded, which allows for firing without the images or styling need be loaded.

The next bit lets my document be called by its (element) id.

Then, it states that my id will be triggered by any input (via an eventListener) and will force my later instantiated function.

The function declared will let the charCode number equal a string which will be console.log(ed) out as my target.value (of Nunito, sans-serif) with proper style.fontFamily.

Conclusion

Attempting to wrap this project up in a nice bow is difficult, as I have onboarded a great deal of information (from one simple survey page.) After completing this task, I am left with a split-brain. While I have learned so much from something, seemingly straightforward, now I am thrilled to make it to the next project and take on those new expectations.

I suppose my takeaway is that I should fine-tune my HTML and CSS understanding and seriously crack open all that is JavaScript. All which, can wait until tomorrow. Cheers!

[phoenotopia]

2020 May Update

I hope you're all staying safe and healthy during this time of Coronavirus!

We continue towards the finish line, slowly, but surely. Coronavirus did throw a few wrenches in our plans. Our talks with a publisher about a possible sponsored appearance at an upcoming event stalled.

But that was always just a possibility. We have a backup plan. If we didn't win a sponsor, we were just going to pay our own way to a convention. That's what most indies do! Anyway, that's canceled too. It doesn't seem like there'll be any conventions to showcase in the near future...

Nevertheless, we did move forward in other areas. We've got the press materials ready as well as the game's official launch site up. You can view it in its prelaunch state at this link. NOTE, It is in a "prelaunch" state, so some media links are being withheld until reveal time. But there are a bunch of new pictures and artwork you can look at.

You might notice the link reads "phoenotopia.wordpress.com". The plan is to direct "phoenotopia.com" to it in the near future. That means if you wanted to reach this tumblr specifically, you'll have to visit it at its tumblr link, "phoenotopia.tumblr.com" (which, I just noticed doesn't work... huh). Anyway, since this is a dev blog, I'll talk a little bit about the journey of creating the website.

SQUARESPACE vs WIX vs WORDPRESS

I actually tried 3 different services (in the above order), before I settled on wordpress. I did a bunch of researching, and most reviews seemed to point at WIX >= SQUARESPACE >>> WORDPRESS.

I went with Squarespace first, since it was recommended a bunch on some youtube videos I saw (guess marketing works). Even though it didn't win outright in the reviews, my impression of it was "less quantity, but more quality." I tried it and found it serviceable. It was kinda sluggish, with some not so intuitive areas. I had to ask for help a few times for some things that would seem simple ("how do I change the BG and font color and of the music player?", etc).

That was last year, when I *thought* I was near launch and would need a press site soon. One year later (present day), it was time to create a press site again, and since my website with Squarespace expired (I had only signed up for a trial period), it was a good opportunity to try Wix, especially since Pirate had lots of praise for Wix.

My impression of Wix was that it was... too distracting. After I chose a theme, in the editor view I felt bombarded by menus. Everywhere you move the mouse, things kept lighting and popping up. And it was slow. So I guess it was sorta like Squarespace, but maybe even a little worse?

(Easy ways to preview the website from phones and tablets was one of wordpress’s neat features)

What prompted me to try Wordpress was one of their slogans "35% of the web uses WordPress". If it's good enough for 35% of websites, it's good enough for me! I ended up liking it most of all. It's definitely less featured, which suited me, since I'm not trying to create something too fancy either. Unlike the other website builders which emphasize free-form, wordpress was more rigid. I couldn't drag and drop an element just anywhere - I found that comforting in a "I can't screw this up" sorta way. The most important thing was that it was fast. Loading the editor view to Wix took 11 seconds vs 4 seconds with Wordpress. And the speed advantage of wordpress extends across every action. Similarly, when Chrome launched 10+ years ago, it was also less featured vs Firefox, but it became my choice browser. I guess speed is something I value highly.

Anyway, my experience is from a drag/drop perspective with minimal coding. This is also NOT a paid advertisement. However, if wordpress would like to send some money my way, I would not be opposed... (call me!)

Achievements, Bugfixes, and Cleanup

Lots of small tasks and polish was done over the past 2 months. I finally fixed the time tracking bug - important because the Speed Run achievement depended on it. I also finally finished implementing all the technical stuff for the achievements. There was a bug where some enemies would stack up too many light sources, causing them to appear too bright and drain system resources. That's now also fixed. Lots of other small ones that don't bear mentioning.

A neat trivia about the game is that there's a final super hard achievement for those seeking to prove their mastery over the game. The player has to beat the game having never picked up a heart or energy upgrade. When playing under this constraint, some enemies can even kill the player in one hit! In the game's most current iteration, even I failed to achieve it, so I'm definitely going to have to go in and tweak things a little more.

Age Ratings

I went and got the game's age rating. I did a little research on this - it's quite fascinating. ESRB would be the age ratings board for the United States (where I'm based). But if you were in Europe, you'd get a PEGI rating. Then there's ACB for Australia and so forth. So if you wanted to launch a game globally, you'd have to deal with this process over and over, and each country rates things a little differently... that's a lot of work!

Enter IARC (International Age Rating Coalition), which aimed to simplify the process by being the one standard that you apply to, and from which you could then get the equivalent rating for all participating countries. IARC is an entirely automated process - probably necessary due to the boom of digital titles across all platforms, particularly mobile.

IARC is great for me, because they relaxed the standards for getting a rating. From my understanding, the process used to be more difficult. And you'd have to pay ESRB a hefty chunk to get a rating, but with IARC, it's totally free! So long as it's for digital and it's used only on licensed sites and store fronts. If I wanted to launch the game physically, I'd have to deal with ESRB on an individual basis again.

Without further ado, here's Phoenotopia's IARC ratings:

Fascinating... Phoenotopia is rated "Mature" in Australia... but for "Horror". Which seems suspect. The horror elements are rare (remember Dreadlands?). But when I was answering their questionnaire, they provided a video example of what they considered "horror", and it was pretty mild. About as mild as my game, so I checked that box. It is what it is...

We also got a "Teen" rating for ESRB for reasons of Fantasy Violence and "Mild Blood". This one is kinda iffy. In the game, if you hit a giant bug, it spits out a few drops of green blood. Does that really count as blood? Ocarina of time skirted by with an E rating 2 decades ago, and it let a dude spit out green blood. However, since IIARC is an automated process, I didn't see any place to dispute. But also, I wouldn't have disputed it anyway. A "T" rating is cooler than an "E" rating!

I'd like to mention this is not a paid advertisement for IARC. However, if IARC would like to send some money my way, I would not be opposed... (call me!)

Submission

I expect to polish the game for about 2 (maybe 3) more weeks. After which, I'll be submitting the game to the console "authority". From my understanding, I'll then have to wait a month while they "inspect" the title. After which, I'm then cleared to have an official launch date - which I'll probably set to be 1 month after getting approval.

So the plan is to have a very short marketing campaign. The reveal trailer will basically drop 1 month before release. And we're going to sprint to the finish line. Some marketing campaigns are 6 months to a couple years. Ours will be one month... Let's hope it works.

Wrench

That's what the plan looks like right now, but there is a possible upcoming wrench in this whole thing. I recently learned that my version of Unity is too old. Games running on old Unity versions are not automatically accepted - so I'll have to apply for an exemption. If the exemption gets rejected, we can't launch without upgrading, which will require *significant* work...

This came as a surprise to me. When I started dabbling in games development a decade ago, the most common advice I found online was "Make Games, not Game Engines." I interpreted this to mean lock in your technologies. There's always going to be a new and shinier bell or whistle, but if you keep chasing it, you're not going to work on the actual content of the game. That's probably what kept me to releasing the original game on Flash. That was a game I was making as a hobby while working a full-time job. By the time I quit my job to go full-time indie dev, Flash had long been a dead technology. But I remembered "do you want to build game engines or games?" And so I pressed forward.

So that mindset could potentially backfire here. If PC was the lead SKU, we wouldn't have these issues since PC is more relaxed as a platform. Consoles, as I'm now learning, have an ever forward shifting window of technologies. If we get rejected for the exemption, there's a couple ways we can play it. One, we go through the pain of upgrading which will take months... Two, we pivot and make PC the lead SKU again, but have to handle porting that plus its specific features, which will also take months...

So why is updating such a big issue? Unity has changed drastically over the years. When I started, it was a lot less 2D friendly. They didn't have an official 2D tilemap solution, so you had to build your own or buy a 3rd party library from their asset store. I used 2DTK for tilemaps - 2DTK is now entirely deprecated. Similarly, I had to search for and purchase a good asset to display crisp text - since you couldn't even do that in Unity back then (heh). That's the story for a lot of old Unity stuff. Think of it as a first mover's "disadvantage".

Hopefully it won't come to that, since I'm pretty spent as a developer. I've been ready for this to be over, and I know many of you feel the same. Hopefully soon! As usual, I'll update in 2 months at the latest (end of June). An update might come earlier if we have some good news to share sooner. Until then!

Fanart and Cosplay

This first picture comes from roccy_chair and shows Gail basked in light. I like how her pose and equipment together form an "X". That's a neat hidden symmetry. The way she floats also kinda reminds me of Crono's "Shining" spell. Perhaps Gail should have the ability to cast spells? Hmmm...

Cody G returns with a new art depicting the 2 Moonstone enthusiasts. I like Fran's starry-eyed expression here. That's true love on display. I also like how the Moonstones are depicted as flat and coin-shaped. Very unique! Also note Gail makes an appearance in the back :D

Thanks to M1shaaa for this cosplay of Gail! There's a lot to like here! The vibrant pink hair. The costume with 3 stitches across the vest. The pose with slingshot, accurate to Gail's depiction in the box art. Amazingly, this might also be the very *first* cosplay of Gail! Will and Pirate both alerted me about it excitedly since they were pretty stoked. We joked that we crossed the final milestone in terms of fandom.

[orbitswriter]

pairing: male!reader x Jack

rating: 18+ nsfw, smutty action

Kink list: humiliation (including

the word 'fag' and 'sissy' a few times),

watching porn, jerking off, being

caught jerking off.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Theres always something peaceful about the rain, even when your driving and it makes it harder to see. I was stuck inside with nothing to really but watch the rain gather on my bedroom window, my room Sean had been gone most of the day, off filming some youtube video in his office, and I was stuck at home with nothing to do but watch as the rain covered the streets of Brighton and cars drove past the house. I had nothing but my imagination to turn to... sure I could turn on the tv and watch something but it would probably turn into endless scrolling before eventually giving up and going back to staring out the window, so I was going to cut out the middle part and just stare.

I glanced at the clock, who knows how long Sean will be gone. My mind wonder to a more naughty place, having a roommate had it disadvantages when it came to getting some personal one on one time with yourself. Fuck I was horny, but their was nothing new about that, I had a pretty high labido, pretty much ready to go whenever someone said the word. I turned toward my computer in my chair, a blink email open to my boss... oh right, I was trying to get work done at one point.

I opened incognito mode on my browser and typed pornhub before letting it load, it could be a little to tame sometimes for my taste but at the moment I just wanted to have something to lazily jerk off too. When the sight loaded my eyes were assulted with naked women, I scrunched up my nose a bit. Not what I wanted to see at the moment. I quickly got to the gay side with a few clicks and looked at the some of the thumbnails, I came to someone who looked a little like Sean, I bit my lip. Typical gay boy falling for his straight friend, well more lusting after but still. I clicked on it turning down my speakers so if Sean did come in he wouldn't just hear porn blasting.

I slide my sweat pants down enough to let my cock free, already hard aching to get some attention, I teased myself, only letting the tips of my fingers lightly brush along the length of my cock. I let out a  frustrated breath, my mind to weak to deal with even me teasing myself at the moment - its been too long. I wrap a hand around myself letting out a soft moan as I do so, my attention turning to the man on the screan,  who was also jerking himself off, mumbling dirty things to the camera.

"I bet you like watch me jerk off don't you? yeah touch your pathetic cock fag" came from my speaker, the male had a deep voice.

He was putting it on a little thick, not that I don't like being degraded but sometimes pornstars should just shut up. I went with it though;

"oh fuck yes" i answered the man who couldn't hear me.

I found my imagination doing what it does best, imagining it was Sean, the voice was to different, but the body build and face worked out, so I did my best to look past the voice. I stroked myself a little faster, I wanted to enjoy it but their was always that little bit of anxiety that Sean might have weaseled his way into the house with out making any noise and would catch me.

"Thats right - I bet you wish you could suck it, don't you sissy?"

"pls, sean" I find myself whining as I tilt my head back allowing my mind to do whatever it wanted to get me off, the mans voice slowly started to sound like Seans.

"That's right you'd do anything for an alpha like me wouldn't you?"

"god, fuck, yes~" I moan getting lost in the image of Sean stroking himself in front of me, teasing me, not letting me touch him only allowing me to watch "Sean, fuck, please" i begged outloud.

"Oh god, I might use your throat as a cock warmer later"

"Please Sean I want it" my hand move faster as I was getting closer to cumming.

"y/n?" the door opened and I gasped, I tried to stop myself but I came hard as Sean walked through the door with a strangled moan.

ooOOoo

{ Sean's Pov }

I had gotten done with my filming a little earlier then I thought I would have, and went straight home after locking up the office. I huffed as I hadn't brought an umbrella with me, so I'd be walking back in the rain with no protection. stupid wheather. I walked as quick as I could back to my house, jogging the last block, even then I still got pretty wet, my hair dripped along and my sweated was soaked.

I quickly got inside dripping on the floor should clean that before y/n sees, he tries so hard to keep the house clean for both of us, I don't expect him to, but it is nice that he does most of the cleaning.

"Sean" I hear y/n moan, I freeze, was he.... No, why would be calling out my name while doing that? he must of been hurt that was it.

"y/n?" I call.

"Sean please" another moan from his room.

I walk to his room slowly drying off as I dripped all over the house. I thought about knocking but instead I just opened the door, I heard y/n gasp then watch in shock as he came, I froze in place. He was moaning my name... I swallowed dryly, feeling a bit of arousals gather itself in me and watched as y/n scrambled closing out of the tab he was watching, the moans of the other male cutting abruptly as he did so. He tucked himself back into his sweats and gave an awkward cough.

"Knockings a smart thing to do" he says simply, his whole face a light shade of red from embarrassment.

"Sorry, I..." I paused "I heard my name"

This makes y/n eyes widden "oh..." he says before licking his lips, his eyes move up and down my body linger near my package for a little bit "you're wet" he says.

"yeah..." I nod its awkward, but I know what I want to do, I want to march over their and pull y/n into a kiss before demanding he fix the problem he made.

"you should -" I pulled him up by the shirt pressing my lips to his, I didn't give him a chance to kiss back before I pushed him onto his knees.

I slipped my jeans off before sitting down in his chair and looked down at a shocked y/n. I smirked a bit enjoying the confusion and excitment that was mixing on the boys face.

"are you going to fix this?" I asked pointing to my still covered dick, it was pressing against my boxers, begging for attnetion from y/n.

"If I dont?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow - of course he's the bratty type, anything to get a rise of out the dom. I shrugged a bit "Don't make me force you" I simply say, I had been with his type before... maybe not ever a guy but girl versions of it.

"You won't" he smirked challenging me.

I waisted no time grabbing his hair and forcefully pulling him closer and pressing his face into my lap "really now?" I smirk "come on don't make this hard for yourself"

Y/n sat for a minute probably processing what was happening. I wondered if he would try testing me to see how far I would go with this whole thing. As he stayed still I got my answer. I pulled him away harshly before slipping my boxers off and storking myself.

"You're being very disobedient" I said tightening my grip on his hair, a small whimper escaping his throat a I did so, I pulled him back to my dick "Lick" I say.

This time he obeys licking strips up my cock, I let out a low moan loosening my grip on his hair "good boy" I say "make me cum and maybe I'll reward you with the same kindness" I push my food into his buldge, he lets out a moan before pushing attempting to grind against my foot. I pull it away with a small chuckle as he whines at the loss. I moan as he takes me in his warm mouth.

"Fuck yeah baby, take it" I moan stopping myself from fucking his throat, I wantd to savor the pleasure for awhile.

I watched as y/n bobbed his head up in down, taking my cock little by little, I already felt close, it had been far to long since I had been with anyone, hopefull y/n was new long term play thing for me... maybe somethubg more. I push his head down all the way thrusting my cock into his throat as I stood, he gages at first but slowly he relaxes allowing me to do what I want without struggle.

"fuck y/n" I can't hell but moan "shit, I'm cumming" my hips stutter and I prop myself up with the desk as I cum down his throat allowing myself to ride it out, I feel hin swallow around my cock making me moan a bit. I fall back into the chair my cock leave y/n mouth as I do.

Y/n catches his breath and I look down at him, seeing a small dark patch in his sweats.

"Did I make you wet?" I smirk only earning a glare from him, I chuckle pushing my foot into his buldge once more and rubbing him through his sweats, he moans probably still sensitive from cumming before.

"Sean" he seens to beg.

I stop and pull him onto my lap effortlessly, allowing his legs to on either side of my right leg.

"hump my leg and make yourself cum like the little bitch you are" I say looking up into his eyes.

I wonder if he'll listen, or if he'll just call it off, we haven't talked kinks or anything before this so I was swinging blind. But as y/n props his his hands on my chest and slowly started humping my leg I relax, watching him.

"thats right, just like that, let md hear you moan" I say.

Y/n response with a moan moving his hips faster on my thigh chasing after his orgasam. I smirk as he whines obviously close by the way his hips are moving.

"Cum, make a mess in your pants" I whisper close to his ear.

Thats all it seemed to take, I watch as his gray sweat pants got a bit darker and smirker, I pushed my leg up into it earning a strangled whimper.

"Don't, sensitive" he whined as he laid his head on my shoulder, leaning his body into mine.

ooOOoo

{ Y/n Pov }

I felt tired but I wanted to stay awake to talk aboout what happened. I felt Sean slip off my pants and clean us both up with the tissues I had on my desk. He picked me up and carried me to my bed, I thought he would leave once he put me down but he crawled in with me, pulling me into his chest.

"Sean?" I questioned.

"I liked cuddling after sex" he said simply.

Of course he did. "What was that?"

"what do you want it to be?" he pulled away a bit so we could look at one another.

"...Something more then just sex?" I say.

"okay, I wouldn't mind that" Sean smiled a bit making my heart flutter.

"but you're-"

"I swear to got of you say I'm 'straight' after what happened back their I'm smacking you" he cut me off.

I went quiet, he had point, but still. I decided maybe it didn't matter, maybe all that mattet was I was with Sean now. So I cuddled back into him and closed my eyes, more then ready for sleep. Beford drifting off I felt him press a soft kiss into my head.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 52

~*~Emma~*~

It's been a very long time since I've had a panic attack, but I remember how weak and out of control I felt. The only way through is to let it have you. The more you fight the worse it gets. Diving in, letting the cycle run its course, letting the adrenaline fade, is scary and difficult. I hate for him to have to deal with this. I know all I can do is support. I can't find the miracle fix for him and anyone else trying to talk you down can interrupt your process, your coping skills. Depending on someone else to pull you through is dangerous because no one can promise they will always be available. We're still learning each other. Hell, everyone is, so we're not unique. My instinct was to give him permission to take care of himself.

I wish I could say his fear that me waking to a note wouldn't have made me wonder if something was wrong.  After what Kirk and Alissa had said last night, I can't be sure a note wouldn't have scared me. But I was awake and happy when Sebastian took off out the door. We were going to have to talk about what they said and what the conversation was in the room he was in.

Sebastian started laughing right through the door, which was what I was going for. I'd taken a shower, dressed, and sat on the couch reading with a cup of coffee. As soon as I heard him unlocking the door, I flipped around where my crossed legs were up the back of the couch, my back on the seat, and my head hanging off the edge. I said, "Hey, baby." and started to sit up.

"Don't move." He threw his keys on the table near the door and ran over, dropping to his hands and knees when he got close. Crawling the last few feet, he kissed me upside down. It's harder than I expected, but we worked it out. Sebastian sat on the floor, adjusting his position until my head on his shoulder wasn't fucking with my neck. He ran his fingers through my hair, combing it down his chest. He made a contented sound; part sigh, part moan, and part hum.

I turned my head to kiss the side of his neck. "How you doing?"

"Good. Back to normal. Sweaty." He turned to kiss my temple. “Thank you."

"Not needed."

"Yes, it is."

The tone of his voice, the seriousness, told me while it was no big deal for me to let him do what he needed, for him it was. Kind of how our first night him making sure I knew he'd stop if I said to meant something different to each of us. I said a simple, "You're welcome" and added, "Anytime, Sebasti-an."

I didn’t know “anytime” in Romanian, but I wanted his name anyway.

"Oricând." He turned where we could see each other.

I repeated, "Oricând, Sebasti-an."

"I believe you."

We smiled into a crazy intense yet sweet kiss, ending with him kissing my nose. "I'll go de-stink myself then we'll hit this cafe I ran by."

"Yum."

He turned halfway to the bedroom, "Did you rearrange anything while I was gone?"

"What fun would it be to tell you."

Twenty minutes later Sebastian reappeared in black shorts and a heather gray t-shirt. I wore green shorts and a cream t-shirt. We were walking so we both laced up our shoes and headed out.

It was a gorgeous day. Bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds. I pulled down my sunglasses, "Lead the way."

Sebastian took my hand and pointed, "Two blocks north, one east. I put my name on the list. Our table should be ready when we get there."

Like yesterday we walked slow and close. The three or four inches he was taller than me made a difference in our strides, but we got in sync quickly where it didn’t look like I was being drug down the street or trying to pull him back. I like holding hands. I like the innocent familiarity of it. It's nearly impossible to walk with your arms around each other. Plus, that looks clingy. Standing still with arms around is ok, but walking is awkward and too try-hard. We could walk down the street separate from each other. We could, but what fun would that be. Besides we're in the first blush of a new relationship. Touching might be a rule. It certainly seems it is for us. I can understand where people see holding hands as an adult as clingy. For me, I want to feel his warmth. I want my touch to let him know I’m attracted to him and want to touch him. If that's what clingy means, so be it. Not like I have any control over what other people think anyway.

I could see the sidewalk tables when we turned the corner and seconds later the smell hit. Fresh bread, rosemary, and something sweet. Maybe banana pancakes? We had to wait for our server to finish clearing our table. We leaned against the railing by the hostess stand watching people and looking at the food. I leaned in toward him, "I love this already."

Sebastian nodded, "I've been here twice, both times amazing."

The hostess came back to take us to our table. Sebastian took my hand and lead the way. He pulled out my chair and kissed me before moving to his chair. Tables were packed rather tight and there was a near constant rumble of voices, pieces of conversations, some you could follow and some were too hushed. It was easy to tell who wanted to be heard. We were on the side next to the railing with a good view of people passing by.

I was excited to see guava juice on the menu. It was my favorite in Hawaii, but hard to find other places. Fingers crossed it was good. While our server, Kim, was off getting our drinks I leaned back in my chair and looked out onto the street, "I forgot how much I love the city. How different things feel even on the same block. Boutiques, grocers, restaurants. There’s always something to explore. I miss it. I haven’t been exploring in a long time. When I come down to see Ang and Eli, he’s usually playing so it’s mostly nightlife. Not a Sunday brunch and stroll around the neighborhood.”

Sebastian laid his hand on the table, motioning his fingers for mine. He waited until my fingers were in his before speaking, “That makes me happy. Us doing something you haven’t in a while.”

“Me too.”

“Feel free to load me down with bags if you wanna do some shopping. Lots of clothing shops around here.”

I smiled, “I’m more of an impulse shopper than a browser. Something in a window may catch my eye and pull me in.  I’m not much for searching racks.”

“I search. Never know what hidden gem is shoved in between crap.”

“The exception is galleries like last night.”

“We should go back sometime when we don’t have to be anywhere.”

The food was delicious. We talked and laugh through our meal, sharing bites of what we liked best and as usual finding the other had something we liked better than our own. Kim took our empty plates away and we sat finishing our drinks and waiting for her to bring back the check. Something behind me caught Sebastian’s eye and he looked at me, “We’re going to have company.”  I didn’t turn to check. A few seconds later two teenage girls were beside our table on the opposite side of the railing. Sebastian smiled, “Good morning, ladies.”

They smiled, one of them chewing nervously on her lip. The non-chewer spoke, “We didn’t want to interrupt your breakfast and were going to wait until you left, but we’ve got to meet our moms in like five minutes.”

He nodded, “Thanks for trying.”

I knew he didn’t like being approached during meals, but we were done. I couldn’t help but smile with the way they shifted from foot to foot and looked ready to either scream or burst into tears.

The same girl continued, “We love Bucky and have seen Endgame about five times. We can’t believe Cap gave Sam the shield and not Bucky. It looked like they left out a whole conversation between Bucky and Cap where he explained he was going back in time to Peggy. Bucky looked like he already knew what was going on when they hugged and then when Cap came back old.”

Sebastian made a face and bobbled his head, “I think Sam’s going to be a great Captain America.” He talked to both of them, but he kept a closer eye on the nervous one. “I think you’re right; Bucky knew what was going on. They probably did talk it out and Bucky’s always going to do what he needs to for Steve.”  He stood up, moving to the railing, and reaching for the girl still chewing on her lip, “Come here.” She got closer and he wrapped his arms around her. “You’re ok.”

I heard her slightly muffled voice, “I don’t want you to be mad ‘cause we came over.”

He squeezed her tighter, “Not mad.”  He let her go and looked at the phone in her friend’s hand, “You want a picture?”

They both nodded, “Please.” She handed her phone to her friend and put her arm around Sebastian.

I watched the girl shaking. She was never going to get a picture that wasn’t blurred and moving. I touched her arm, “Here, I’ll take it.”  I took the first and waited for them to trade out. Sebastian pulled them both in for a hug and I took a picture of that too, because for real, that’s the picture you really want. When he let them go, I handed the girl back her phone.

Sebastian had kept his arm around the nervous one, “Can you do me a favor?” They immediately nodded, not even knowing the favor. “Don’t post this for a few hours. Some people would try and find me from your picture.”

“No problem.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you on a date?” said the brave one.

I didn’t care what he answered, but I was amused. Sebastian made a face at her, “You know I’m not going to answer.” He glanced at me then back to her, “Besides if you’ve been watching us have brunch you don’t need me to answer. I’d appreciate you keeping her out of any pictures if she was accidentally in them.”  That made the brave one blush. She nodded. “Thank you.” Sebastian gave the nervous one another squeeze before returning to his seat, “Thanks for coming by to say hi.”

The nervous one waved to me. I smiled and waved back. I watched them walk away, making sure they were out of earshot before I looked back at Sebastian. “It pays to be nervous around you. She got all sorts of snuggles.”

He laughed, “She looked like she was going to pee her pants.”

“I’ll have to check your tags on the train home and see if they did as you asked.”

“They usually do. Most of my fans are respectful. The minority just happen to be more vocal.” He looked in the direction they’d walked off. “I’m sure they took sneaky pictures of us. Hopefully, they’ll edit you out. I don’t care if they say I was on a date, but I don’t want to see pictures of you.” He smiled and repeated my words from the festival, “Privacy shouldn’t be the price you pay for being with me.” He signed the check and took my hand, “Ready to go?”

“Yep.”

We wove through several blocks looking and windows and ducking inside. I broke from habit in this amazing boutique clothing store we found. I could have stayed there for hours. They had everything from comfy loungewear, bottoms, tops, outerwear, and dresses. Style ranged from cute to sexy. Sebastian was a good sport and I kept what I tried on to a reasonable number. He seemed to enjoy the fashion show and his expressions made his opinion clear. His favorite was a sleeveless hot pink mini dress with an embroidered collar and details. I was surprised. He just shrugged and said it was fun and flirty. Like me. It went home with us.

Sebastian showed me his favorite places and where he shopped. We added bags of his purchases too. We reached max shopping at the same time and headed back to his place. He dropped the bags on the chair and headed to the kitchen grabbing a couple of bottles of water. I kicked off my shoes and slouched down on the couch, “I’ll be visiting that shop again.”

“There was a lot in there that looked like you.” He handed me a bottle and sat down beside me.

“I like bright colors.”

“You look good in bright colors. You look good in black too. And muted colors. Pastels.” He leaned in and kissed me, “I guess I just like how you look. Among other things I like about you.”

I smiled my thanks and savored another kiss. I unscrewed the bottle top and took a drink. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

“Which part? There was a ton of shit going on last night.”

“True. I meant the part where Angie drug me out of the room with Kirk and Alissa in tow.”

He nodded, “The meeting about me.”

I laughed, “It was more about me, although you came in at the end.” I turned on the couch, pulling up one leg where my calf rested against his thigh, and I draped the other across his lap. He screwed the top onto his water bottle, laying it beside him before his hands moved to my legs. I wrapped my fingers around the one on my bent leg. I liked us being tangled together. This wasn’t a comfortable conversation. “Angie was butthurt because she thought I hadn’t talked to her about you to the degree she thought I should have.”  I could tell he didn’t understand. “We don’t act like we met two weeks ago.”

His laughter interrupted me, “Will said the exact same thing to me.”

“It threw her when we showed up being more comfortable than she’d expected. I filled in Alissa and Kirk and they kept looking at each other and Alissa was repeating things slowly. Like “he threw you over his shoulder and carried you out of the park” and “you call your dad Ed.” I imitated her slow pauses. “I got a little protective and defensive. Went on a rant.” He smiled and I rolled my eyes. “Might have been a little drunk.” He scrunched up his nose and nodded. I had to kiss him. “I said the touching and kissing is just you.”

Sebastian kept eye contact and shook his head back and forth, “Not at all me.”

“That’s what they said. Even raised their hands to be called on.” That part had been funny.

“What did they say?” He didn’t seem angry or anything other than curious.

“There’s not many pictures of you being affectionate with girlfriends. A couple of pap walks. You with friends is different than you with women. You have lots of feelings, but keep them on the inside, not letting them out. Thinking too much makes you emotionally unavailable.” Those words made him wince. “I had another rant about how I don’t know the person they were talking about. I’ve never felt kept outside. We’ve always had intimate conversation, often with you initiating. I would never say you were emotionally unavailable. And after calling me a drunken cow, Alissa said the you last night was the fun, unguarded, happy Seb you are with friends.”

Sebastian looked straight ahead for a little bit and did things with his mouth. He scratched his cheek and looked back at me, “I think I’m pissed at a couple of my friends.”

I smiled and ran my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. He didn’t pull away, he leaned back into the touch. “I don’t want you to be mad. Had you gone for a run this morning and left a note I would have been freaked out. What I know doesn’t match with what they said and I don’t want to have those thoughts in my head. It’s not fair to either of us.”

He took a hand from my leg, placing it on the back of my head to pull me closer. His kiss was deep and tense. “You are one hundred percent to right to talk to me about this. We’re about to be apart almost as long as we’ve known each other and I don’t want you doubting me. Us.”

I kissed him. Soft. I didn’t move away until I felt him relax. “It’s me being brave and vulnerable.”

“You know, I think about that conversation a lot.” He smiled again, a sweet tender smile that made my stomach flip. “It was day three and we were talking about how it’s hard to be open, honest, and vulnerable with another person. Only it wasn’t all that hard. I mean, I might think “oh shit”, but it’s never been enough to stop me.” He looked like a piece had fallen into place. He looked to the ceiling, “Which might be why I had a panic attack in the middle of the night.” His eyes returned to mine, “I don’t know if this is going to make any sense. Not because I’m scared, but because I’m not. I’m still overthinking and still have the same anxieties, but it’s different because I don’t feel like I need to cover it up. You take my shit in stride.”

“What’s different?”

He frowned and shook his head, “Besides you? No idea. Which might be why I had a panic attack in the middle of the night.” He smiled and kissed me, “I’ll read back over what I wrote this morning and figure it out.”

“And there’s always Thursday with the therapist.”

“Good point, princess.” This time he squeezed my hand, “So . . . while I’m pissed at them for dropping all that on you, nothing they said is wrong. Girlfriends and dates in between would tell you they can’t read me and they never know what I’m feeling. I don’t show it and I won’t talk about it. I run hot and cold. I get insecure and pull them closer. I get insecure and push them away. I’m different with my friends. I have intimacy issues. Commitment issues. I’m a mess.” He lifted my hand to his lips, “Except I’m not. With you. None of those things is true. With you.  I don’t mean that in some unhealthy co-dependent way, it’s just different with you.”

“Did you ever think you might be different too?”  I question it being all about me. I don’t have some magic wand that takes away all his “issues.” I’ll agree I may respond differently and that does make a difference, but I don’t think he’s giving himself enough credit.

“I don’t know what would be different. I may respond differently than with someone else, but you react differently. Like this morning. I can tell you how that would have gone in the past. It would have been a discussion about what was I anxious about and why didn’t wake her up and why I don’t let her in. A million questions and suggestions, but never asking what it was I needed to be ok. It played out very different and not because I did anything different.”

“I’m sorry.” I ran the back of my fingers over his beard.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry no one asked you what you needed.” I could see my words hit him, see him feel them. It was a subtle catch in his chest and breathing.

“We’re going to pause talking for a few minutes.” He pulled me into his lap. “Because right now I need to feel you.”

[bomberqueen17]

sore

well i feel like a veal calf made of bruised jell-o. turns out spending 85 days sitting around a house and occasionally riding on an exercise bike is not a good way to keep oneself in condition for farm work.

cut for discussion of yesterday’s livestock harvesting events, though there are no gory details. Oh, if you want a tour of the whole process, I made an Instagram Stories highlight (even if you’re not an IG user you can still just watch it in your browser!) about the process last year-- it starts off with a tiny political rant about food systems because at the time I was a bit bruised from encountering some Ethical Vegans, so like, don’t worry, most of it is just the tour bit. 

yesterday went well-- we actually took A Break in the midst of the processing run, which BIL rarely lets us do. But because of The Virus, we have to wear masks the entire time, and the usual snack area in the corner of the slaughterhouse has been moved across the driveway to the farmstand, which is an open room without doors, so you’re under a roof but not really indoors-- so usually, someone can step off the line for a second to wash their hands and then have a sip of water or coffee or a quick bite of coffee cake, and now that’s not possible.  Stopping to take a break is kind of tricky, though, because it’s an assembly line-- from a live bird to a neatly-tucked-up carcass in the chill tank takes on average around 10 minutes per bird, as there are so many stages it has to go through, so it’s always a bit of a production.

so we did the first big batch-- the 185 white Cornish Cross birds-- and then took a break, and then did the last 63 birds who were the fancy heritage/hybrid Rangers, and we were still done by 11:30. 

I started out on the plucking table-- I tend to install myself next to the pass-through window as like, the final quality-check and kind of pace-setter-- I have a chance there to hold chickens on the plucking table instead of passing them through if I can see that the evisceration table is full, and then BIL, who really is setting the pace by killing, can see that we’re backed up, though often he sees the backup and is like “ah i need to pull another eviscerator to help pluck, they’re slow” and i have to be like “i’m holding chickens because the eviscerators are underwater you dink”-- but anyway. None of that happened yesterday. We moved through the process at a blistering pace, and once the eviscerators got underwater I moved into the eviscerating room and did that for a while and then our spare eviscerator showed up so we clawed our way out from under the backup without having to slow down the line, and then we were done. I wound up standing right next to Vegetable Manager, and he’s a very fast eviscerator-- in the two years he was away from this farm (he apprenticed here for two years, then worked on other farms, and as soon as my sister bought the farm the first thing they did was find him and hire him back) he worked at a place that slaughtered chickens every week with a tiny crew and all he ever did was eviscerate, so he’s got a ton of experience. And I managed to mostly keep up with him, so that was nice for my ego. 

But wearing a mask is torture, it really is. I felt like i had a mattress on my face. I don’t breathe well anyway, and I was wearing a mask I’d made with some great deluxe features-- a linen innermost layer for not being damp, and it fit me great, and the ties were super adjustable and I got them just right-- behind the head, not over the ears, and one of those thick substantial coffee bag twist-ties over the nose so it didn’t fog glasses-- but it also had a third layer for filtration that I Did Not Need, and it was so big it really covered my whole lower face which I Did Not Need, and the linen, while dry, is also not smooth so it kept feeling rough against my mouth. 

So maybe I’ll try making another more breathable mask for situations where I’m not really trying to protect myself, I’m trying to protect other people from me and meet the letter of the law. 

I also discovered for sure that this year’s farm crew is really really fun. There are three apprentices instead of the usual two, and there’s also a new livestock manager, and they’re not kids though they’re not very old either (one of them is under 21), and the new livestock manager told a story about how on election night 2016 “that’s when I met my ex-boyfriend” and i was like that is a fantastic story start, and he was like “yeah and nine months later” and we all were like !!!! where is this story going (we had just had a lengthy conversation about my sister’s Natural Homebirth experience so like) and he continued “---I dumped him via text on Yom Kippur” which is like, what a great succinct wild ride, right? Anyway. 

all right I gotta get my sore veal ass out of this bed. i am so out of shape. *groans*

[roll20]

A New Light

At the start of 2019, we helped Roll20 Get a New Look with an update to Advanced Fog of War. While our data showed that the changes made the system run faster for many users, it also highlighted structural problems with the original design and architecture of that feature.

It became clear that we couldn’t bandage up this feature. We needed to rebuild it from the ground up, leveraging modern tools and designing with an eye towards our users' needs. Thus began work on the project we called “A New Light.”

Today we’re ready to unveil the results. Meet Updated Dynamic Lighting, a completely refurbished Plus and Pro subscriber feature which integrates all the functions from our existing lighting system with one streamlined name and future-ready code. It runs faster, supports more use cases, and represents the single biggest Roll20 upgrade since… well, the original Dynamic Lighting.

The old system (Legacy Dynamic Lighting) will run alongside the new system (Updated Dynamic Lighting) at first, to give you time to adjust, and then the old system will be retired later in 2020. We’ll give you lots of advance notice when its retirement party is coming, but for now, just know that you can switch between systems when you’re ready to try out the new update.

Because of its size and importance, we have a lot to say about Updated Dynamic Lighting. We front-loaded the features list for those of you who want to get right to the point, but read beyond that for a more robust explanation of what changes we made and why.

Overall Features:

Performance boost

Plus and Pro subscriber only

More robust technology that will work with modern hardware and browsers more efficiently

Change in tech will let us deliver more, highly requested features

New Lighting Features:

Light radius and Vision radius are now two separate settings

Dim Light and Bright Light are individual settings

All Light can be seen by all players' tokens with Vision

Tokens can now have “Night Vision” that doesn’t require light

Explorer Mode Features:

Replaces “Advanced Fog of War” with a toggle

Reveals in a radius around a token (no more grids!)

Saves revealed areas that a user has seen for all tokens they control

Visit the Roll20 Forum Bug Thread for more details and known issues about Updated Dynamic Lighting! We’d love to hear your feedback.

Parallel Systems: Legacy and Updated Dynamic Lighting

Currently, 51% of Roll20 games use some form of Legacy Dynamic Lighting or Advanced Fog of War. With a feature that touches so many of your lives, the last thing we wanted to do was make a sudden switch on you. Therefore, we’re introducing Updated Dynamic Lighting feature as an opt-in feature that will eventually (but not for some time yet) replace Legacy Dynamic Lighting. These systems will remain active side-by-side until we feel confident that we’ve met your expectations and given you enough time to switch.

Please be aware: Legacy Dynamic Lighting WILL be going away, but not until later in 2020. Given its structural problems, it would be untenable for us to support both versions of this system going forward. So we encourage you to try out the Updated Dynamic Lighting as soon as you can! We’ll make sure to give you a reminder well before the final change takes place.

We’re also confident that you’ll like it. The new system leverages WebGL, the same system that Legacy Dynamic Lighting always used. What’s new here is that the feature set from Advanced Fog of War has been integrated into the same system, and rebranded as “Explorer Mode,” a new setting for Updated Dynamic Lighting. In essence, this means that if you can run Legacy Dynamic Lighting, then you can run Updated Dynamic Lighting with the benefit of new features and substantially faster processing time.

We chose WebGL because it leverages the power of your computer’s graphics processor instead of taxing your CPU. We measured, and 99.9% of Roll20 users already use WebGL, and if you’re not sure whether that includes you, you can check with this webpage.

As with all Roll20 features, Dynamic Lighting has been designed for use on our officially supported browsers, Firefox and Chrome. You will need to use one of these browsers for the features to perform correctly.

What Happens When You Switch?

If you already have Dynamic Lighting barriers drawn on your Dynamic Lighting layer, those will stay. The new system uses that same layer to create line of sight for your map. However, if you were using Advanced Fog of War to remember where your players have already explored, their memory of revealed portions of the map will not carry over to Updated Dynamic Lighting. For that reason, it’s best to make the switch when moving your players to a new Page.

But don’t worry: if you want to switch back, you can. In essence, both Updated and Legacy Dynamic Lighting have separate memories of where your players have been, so what’s revealed in one system will not be revealed in the other. When you switch back and forth between them, however, they will each retain their individual memory of areas revealed while that system was active in your game.

As mentioned above, the feature set from the old “Advanced Fog of War” system has been integrated and renamed “Explorer Mode” for Updated Dynamic Lighting. It functions in the same way: as your players move their tokens around the play area, those sections of the map will be revealed and remembered. You just need to toggle Explorer Mode on.

Several other features have been rebranded for Updated Dynamic Lighting. You can read more about them on the Roll20 Help Center. Lots of newer GMs told us they had trouble understanding how the different pieces of the lighting system interacted with each other. We hope that the new names help shine light (!) on those issues, but hey! Let us know your feedback on the forums.

How to Turn on Updated Dynamic Lighting

Updated Dynamic Lighting will exist alongside the old systems for now, but you can’t use them both at the same time. When you enable Updated Dynamic Lighting, the old system will be disabled - but don’t worry! It only applies to the page you change the setting for, and you can revert if you wish. Make sure you read the “What Happens When You Switch?” section above for more detail on changing systems!

How to enable Updated Dynamic Lighting on a map or page:

In the Page Menu, click on the Gear Icon for the Page you want to edit.

Find the section in Page Settings labeled Updated Dynamic Lighting and switch it on.

Optional: If you want your players to retain visibility of the Map Layer after they have left their vision radius, turn on Explorer Mode (replaces “Advanced Fog of War”)

Optional: If you want to avoid placing lights, or it’s an outside, sunny kind of adventure, turn on Daylight Mode (replaces “Global Illumination”)

Click Save on the Page Settings

How to give an object Vision on an Updated Dynamic Lighting page:

Select the object (such as a character token or a pet controlled by a player)

Make sure that it’s Controlled By the correct players

Navigate to the “Updated Dynamic Lighting” tab

Turn on Vision

Optional: Turn on Low Light Vision radius

Optional: Turn on Night Vision radius

How to Light up an object on an Updated Dynamic Lighting page:

Select the object (such as a torch or character with a flashlight duct-taped to their head)

Navigate to the “Updated Dynamic Lighting” tab

Set the Bright Light radius to the distance that bright light should be emitted

Optional: Set the Low Light radius (usually larger than Bright Light)

Optional: Set the Angle and Starting Degree of light emitted (for a flashlight, etc)

Voila! Or “que la lumière soit,” if you want to get fancy. As long as you have Dynamic Lighting barriers set up (and you can learn how to do that on this Roll20 Help Center article), your page is ready. You can also check your work by selecting a token and hitting Ctrl + L to see what that token would see.

Support for Roll20 Marketplace Products

When you switch over to Updated Dynamic Lighting for your existing products from the Roll20 Marketplace, you may notice that some areas of your lighted maps have light leaking through corners and around walls. We'll be fixing this for all products (including Marketplace Creator products) with future patches to Updated Dynamic Lighting, so please don’t worry that you will need to correct this by hand for all your maps!

What’s happening here: Updated Dynamic Lighting is far more precise about detecting the exact length and placement of barriers on the Dynamic Lighting layer. In places where the lines of a corner don’t join up 100% precisely, light will now shine through that small gap. Sometimes, Updated Dynamic Lighting, you do your job too well. We’re scoping out some tweaks to close those gaps moving forward!

You can still start or continue playing on existing maps during this time, but we recommend checking for light leaks before you let your players loose on them. The last thing any GM wants to hear is “Uh, I think I can see the boss through this corner?” Keep your secrets hidden, and we’ll keep you posted on the patches that will correct this problem in the future.

The Future of Dynamic Lighting

So what’s new in Updated Dynamic Lighting? Everything! And nothing. Under the hood, the code has been entirely refactored. Although the whole system is smoother and more efficient, we designed it to parallel the existing feature set of Legacy Dynamic Lighting. Explorer Mode (previously Advanced Fog of War) has gotten huge performance upgrades that are really cool if you’re the type of person who gets excited about the fact that it now renders revealed areas in a circle instead of a square. (FYI, we’re the type of people who get excited about circles instead of squares. CIRCLES, everyone! Round happy circles!)

Even if you don’t care about circles, the new system opens up a whole range of possibilities for the future. With A New Light complete, we can add more graphics features: specifically, the Layer Up update that was delayed last year and remains the most popular user request of all time. We also have a ton of exciting user ideas on the Suggestions Forum for lighting improvements that are much more doable with the added power of WebGL.

We also did some tinkering under the hood to add new features. One of the requests that drove us to embrace the need for a new system was our users' desire to have lighted objects be visible outside a character’s immediate vision radius - like the glow of a faraway campfire, beckoning you through the dark. The old system made this possible through some twists and contortions, but Updated Dynamic Lighting allows any object with Vision to detect any object with Light. Simple as that.

This is just the beginning, and we’re excited to shine A New Light on Roll20’s future. Please give our new Updated Dynamic Lighting a try, and let us know what you think on the forum!

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

(1) Hi Ralph. I’m almost done with undergrad, but during the lockdown I’ve been obsessed with checking the social medias of people I went to high school with and they are doing all the things I’m afraid of: driving, working, moving out, getting married, having kids, having cool hobbies, doing really tough majors, trying new things. I’m so ashamed of myself. I don’t really do anything and I avoid all my fears. I live an isolated life and I don’t really have any hobbies.

(2) Talking to people makes nervous and I’m afraid to drive so I rarely go anywhere, even before COVID. I’ve always been afraid of interviews, but it’s worse because of COVID because I fear that it’s going to be much harder to get a job now, especially bc I’m just a sociology major. I’ve always kind of felt this way but social media and covid have made it worse. I’m really starting to hate myself. I feel like I have nothing to be proud of. What do you do when everything about you feels wrong?

******************

Oh anon - I’m so sorry.  It’s so hard being a person at this time.  Everything you’re going through is a sign that you’re a person in the world during a pandemic under capitalism. The system is the problem and not you.

I’ve got a couple of things that help me - they may or may not help the world is a really hard and difficult place.  And figuring out how to be in it is a life long project.

The first is try to avoid emotional escalation.  It can be very easy to get depressed that you’re depressed, anxious that you’re anxious and sad that you’re sad (and so on).  It’s OK that you feel the way that you do in a pandemic - you’re doing amazing - it’s not a sign that there’s anything wrong with you.  I try and tell myself it’s OK: ‘it’s OK that I’m anxious’.  ‘It’s OK that I’m depressed’.  Conciously giving yourself an alternative to the idea that it’ll be like this forever is a way of countering that esculation. 

The second is try and limit your use of social media.  I know that this is an easier said than done thing.  The key is to figure out what works for you as a way of limiting your exposure to social media that messes with your head.  I remove myself from the site when I’m feeling crappy.  So I don’t have twitter or faebook apps, and I log out of them from my browser.  Someone else I knew just hid everyone from her facebook page the second they posted something that made her feel bad.  She ended up seeing like two people.  You won’t necessarily figure out how to limit your social media intake straight away - but giving it a try is really important.

The third is mental health care. Does the place where you are studying have counselling? I know there’s a pandemic on which can make it hard, but having someone you can talk to can make a difference.  Lots of colleges/universities do have free counselling (which is why I recommend it - under a lot of other circumstances getting access to counselling is way too hard when someone is fucked up).

The fourth is see if you can make a hobby something doable. Don’t think of hobbies in the abstract as something you would like to do.  Think about something you would enjoy doing and figure out a first step that isn’t that hard.  Want to learn to knit? Order some knitting needles and yarn on line (I don’t really have cool hobbies - I have my tumblr, political activism, and knitting - so my idea of what a good starting point is a little skewed).  Things that you are anxious about become much more doable if you break them down into tiny steps (first step - figure out what you want to do.  Second step - figure out how to break it down into small steps.  Maybe set a goal of one step a week and once you do those steps it’s a huge achievement and you should celebrate yourself).

You’re so young - and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you to learn how to do things that are scary for you now. Learning how to be in this world really is a proess and it’s absolutely OK that you don’t know to do it all now.

When I was in undergrad I had no idea how I’d ever get a job, I was afraid to drive, I had huge social anxiety. The process of applying for a job has at times made me so anxious that I’m distressed from the moment I start, until I submit send. 

Over hte years I have cried heaps about how there was obviously something wrong with me and how terrible I was.  And I’ve also slowly, found them easier to navigate with time, by doing things that scared me in small steps sometimes, and by trying to tell myself that I’m OK the way they are.

I haven’t arrived in any end point.  A lot of these things are still really hard for me.  I still have to remind myself that it’s OK that I have feelings and to break things into small pieces.  And it would probably be a good idea to make a zoom appointment with my New Zealand counsellor, but I haven’t. It’s not that you get to a point where none of your problems exist, but you learn ways of being in a difficult world that can make things better for you.

So much love anon.  I promise you that you’re doing amazing under very difficult circumstances.

[geminis-twisted-mind]

Esme Blake stared at the screen, unable to process what she was reading. It was an email, with the subject line: Mandatory Self Defence Training: Kidnapping.

She read each line slowly, and then read the whole thing again. Finally, when no clarity seemed to be forthcoming, she drafted a message to Cheryl, the HR leader, who just happened to be an old friend from her graduating class.

Hi Cheryl,

This is a joke, right?! Ha ha, tease the new girl. No one actually does THIS?

E.

Cheryl’s response arrived back with an aggressive ping.

Hi E,

No joke. Everyone on the international team does it. Company wants to be sure you know how to handle yourself if you get nicked while negotiating with one of our foreign buyers.

You wanted the promotion, this is part of it.

C.

‘Get nicked’? Was that anyway for a senior team member to talk, even if they were friends? Esme typed back, still not convinced.

I never wanted to do anything dangerous! I just wanted some nice parties with diplomats, maybe some cute waiters with sexy accents. You don’t really think I'll get kidnapped?!

E.

The response came back in seconds, suggesting Cheryl had been waiting.

Of course not. It’s never happened. But you should be prepared in cased it does. So stop complaining and book the course for this Friday.

That was it. The end of the discussion. Another ping told her that Cheryl wasn’t quite done.

And E, try not to enjoy it too much!

Bitch.

Esme held back her wounded pride and set about reading the 15-page disclaimer on the website. The word consent was used a lot, specifically regarding how the role-play was designed to simulate a real-life experience, and therefore would be run to completion no matter what, except for a medical emergency. By signing up, Esme was declaring that she knew what she was getting into and was OK with it.

Esme entered her details, including the billing which went straight to the company, and moved on to the permissions page. She was immediately alarmed when she saw what she was being asked to give permission for, starting with where she wanted to be abducted from.

Seriously, what the f*** kind of question is that? she thought as she read through the list.

Kidnapped from office would be far too embarrassing, with all her colleagues around to watch. Home-invasion was out, in case her wife tried to play the heroine and got herself hurt. That left the street, which made her very nervous but was the only acceptable answer.

Esme moved on to what they called the ‘core experience’. Her stomach did flips as she read through the list, a perverted menu of head-bagging, body-tying, car-boot-riding, handcuffs, blindfolds, and gags. The word ‘kinky’ wasn't used, but she sensed it was never far from the edges of the conversation.

At the bottom of the page was a section called ‘interrogation’. Esme felt her chest tighten just reading it. A warning in red marked it as recommended only for people with some prior experience. Esme realised with a sickening start that some people must do this more than once.

Half of the choices sounded like things she would expect to find in German dungeon porn, featuring blond, top-heavy maidens strapped helplessly to tables being horribly abused by leather-wearing sadists. Coming in at just under 5ft nothing, with a modest frame, short brown hair, and a cute face all but hidden behind a pair of glasses, Esme had a hard time picturing herself in the role of the helpless maiden.

Esme took a deep breath and carefully made her selections. in particular, she unchecked anything that sounded like it would hurt. She would let them take her and hold her until the ‘ransom’ was paid, a minimum of 2 hours. Otherwise she expected to be treated, if not nicely, then at least gently. Surreptitiously located next to the button for ‘confirm’ was another button that said ‘select all’, which she avoided.

“What’s that, Esme?” The voice came so suddenly that Esme had to grab the edge of her desk to keep from falling straight out of her chair.

It was Thomas. Stupidly-attractive Thomas. Always-flirting-but-only-in-that-nice-way Thomas. But worst of all, gossiped-like-an-American-hen-on-steroids Thomas. If he saw what she was looking at, it would be all over the office in nanoseconds.

She hit ‘confirm' in a blind panic and closed the browser.

.....

Friday came with all the speed and determination of a snail that had decided this was the week it was going to practice the art of moonwalking.

She left the office wearing her least-favourite skirt, her cheapest white Primark brand top, and a pair of comfortable shoes. After all, if she was going to be abducted, she was damned if she was going to do it in heels. She had deliberately not had anything to drink for two hours: the last thing she wanted was to have to ask her kidnappers for permission to use the loo.

She skipped the tube she normally took home and walked on as instructed, to a quieter place where there was less likely to be any witnesses. Then she activated the app that told them where she was, to make sure they got the right person.

The thought of someone watching her movements made her extremely nervous. Every dusk-born shadow seemed larger and scarier. If anyone had asked her for the time she might have punched them in the face on reflex.

She never even heard the silent electric vehicle drive up behind her. It wasn’t until two men leapt out and threw a black (and mercifully clean) bag over her head that she realised she was ‘nicked’.

.....

The memory of the journey was a blur. She had been in the boot, she knew that much. But it had been roomier than she had expected and, given that the max speed for inner-city London was about 5 miles per hour, it hadn’t been a bumpy ride. Her arms had been cuffed behind her back, so she had rested on her side to stop the metal cutting into her wrists.

She found she could breathe surprisingly well through the bag, even as they pulled up, opened the boot, and lifted her out. It was shocking having several pairs of hands grabbing her at the same time, but they were – polite – about where they touched her. She absently wondered if real kidnappers would be so considerate. Somehow she doubted it.

She was lowered into a solid metal chair, the kind of minimalist contraption used by chip shops with airs. The lower back portion was missing by design, which gave her cuffed hands somewhere to rest. She wondered if she was expected to participate, maybe get up and try to run away, but the addition of a cable tie holding her ankles together settled that debate.

There was darkness, and voices, but no one talked to her. The bag was pulled away just as a massive light burst to life and filled her field of vision, blinding her. She gasped and blinked, and then cried out as a cloth gag was forced roughly into her mouth.

“Hey! Be gentle!” she tried to say, but it came out as a frustrated “hmph! hmmph hmfmph”.

“We’ve got a live one,” said a man’s voice. It was perfectly intoned English, but with a light European accent. He could have been anywhere in the room – Esme couldn't see anything.

She was slightly surprised to hear a woman with a similar accent respond. “She should be, given this order. It says she’s down for the full package.”

But then, why couldn’t women be kidnappers? Was she a bad feminist for assuming her abductors would be male? Wait what?!

“No that’s not right! I don't want the full package, I don't even want the box! Just leave me here for two hours until my office ‘rescues’ me.” That's how it sounded in her head. The gagged version was a series of indecipherable grunts and hmphs.

Her mind looked around and did the equivalent of a teenager realising he actually can’t jump clean over that pointy fire hydrant.

Two words: ‘select all’.

Thomas, when I get out of this, I am going to MURDER you.

Esme had never seen the confirmation. All the correspondence had gone to the billing address, the office, to Cheryl. And that two-timing wench never said a damn thing.

Esme’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, enough that she could make out the shadowy forms of her two captors standing behind it.

Please, she thought desperately, don't hurt me...

.....

Esme was lifted out of the chair by two pairs of strong hands, one on each arm. Her ankles were still bound together, giving her all the dignity of a fish flopping on a hook. There was the rattle of keys and the cuffs came loose, but as soon as her hands were free they were pulled abover her head and recuffed, this time in leather. At first she could stand comfortably on her own feet, but a loud noise and a horrible pulling sensation later and she found herself practically hanging from the ceiling!

Oh god, no, this can’t be happening! This isn’t me, I don’t do things like this! Please take off the gag and I can explain this is all a misunderstanding!

“Hmmmph” on repeat is all she managed to say.

The woman walked between Esme and the light. She was dressed in a black pantsuit and obligatory stilletto heels. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had sharp, beautiful features and piercing eyes. The only thing missing was a riding crop in her hands.

“Now, Ms Blake. We are going to ask you some questions about the people you work for, and I understand you may not want to answer out of loyalty. That won’t last. We have six hours to make you talk, and I promise, you will talk.

Six hours?! I only agreed to two! I’ll talk, I’ll tell you everything, starting with where that bitch Cheryl lives!

The man moved up beside her. Like the woman, he was extremely handsome. In fact, he looked so much like her they could have been siblings. He was wearing a pair of army-issue kakis and a vest. In his hand was a knife as long as Esme’s arm from elbow to wrist. Esme’s eyes widened and she began to struggle against the cuffs, causing her body to shake in the air.

“Hold her still!” said the man, not loudly but with a clear authorative voice. It was so compelling that Esme nearly stopped moving to obey him herself. More hands grabbed her and she was stuck in position, with the strength of their arms taking some of the weight off her wrists. She followed the man with the knife as he walked around her, straining her neck until he was out of sight.

She screamed as he tore through her blouse, exposing her back but leaving her chest covered as the top hung from the sleeves. She hadn’t been ready to be treated this way in front of so many people. The woman came up and held Esme’s chin in her hand.

“There there,” she said, almost whispering. “It won’t be all bad. My brother is very good at what he does.”

A sudden weight landed against her back, with just a hint of sting, announcing the fact that she was being flogged! She gasped and tried to catch her breath even as another hit landed. The weight of the leather assulted her back again and again, never really stinging nor hard enough to be truely punishing, but making her skin raw with every slap. She didn’t know how long he hit her for, the rythmic pulsing of it pushing her against the bondage that held her. After the initial shock of it, she found it was almost relaxing.

Endorphines mixed with the adrenaline of fear in her brain, creating an unexpected cocktail that clouded her mind and muddled her thoughts. It took her by surprise when the woman took her by the chin again.

“Don’t think this is all you’re getting.” The woman was holding a whip now, a cruel looking thing that was twisted and folded from one thick end which served as a handle, to a thin tapered end that finished in a point. Esme looked at her pleadingly and shook her head.

The flogging had stopped. Now the man walked into Esme’s view and the woman disappeared behind her. His vest was gone and there was sweat across the muscles of his chest and arms. He looked for all the world like a professional body builder. He leaned close to her and for a moment Esme felt her heart beat a bit harder for a reason that had nothing to do with her predicament.

Then the whipping started.

The first crack was like pinch on her back being delivered at the speed of sound. Esme’s head arched backwards and she screamed into the gag. Another hit swiftly followed the first, but the shock of it wasn’t there, and she found she could handle the sharp, stinging pain a bit better.

The man was watching her, she realised. Even as the whip landed again and again, his eyes never left hers. She focused on those eyes and the pain of the whip was somehow dulled. He moved closer and held up a hand and she leaned her head towards it, brushing it with her cheek, then jumped back as the whip cracked even more painfully across her sensitive skin.

Her breathing was hard and fast, but under control. Her back was on fire from the whipping, but her heart wasn’t beating out of her chest anymore. And those eyes, watching her like she was the only thing that mattered, made her want to take more just so he could see her do it. Then maybe she would get to feel his hand again...

Oh my god... it’s not possible... I can’t be.... I’m not actually... enjoying this?

The chain was lowered until she was able to sit on the ground. The man disappeared as the woman circled in front of her. She had the same eyes, the ones that saw everything. She leaned in close, as though she meant to whisper to Esme as a lover might, as the man untied the gag from behind Esme’s head.

“Are you ready to talk?” as the woman. The hint of accent make the words sound delicious, like something out of a bad spy movie. “We have five hours left to change your mind if you refuse to cooperate.”

Esme looked up at her captor, at her fierce face, and felt her own determination rising. Maybe she hadn’t meant to get herself into this mess, but now that she was here, she was going to own it.

“I’m not telling you anything.”