#i don't know where they're going or why they're in a car on the surface

[inexplicably-spookified]

this week's FUCKING BNUUY FRIDAY is NOT being a CONSIDERATE PASSENGER

[prael]

Chemistry

Jenna Ortega x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 9,196 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"You know that's not my thing, right? Why even bring this to me?" You throw the papers down on her desk and they spill over the wooden surface.

"Did you even look it over?" She sighs, holding out her hands for you to take them back, "This could help you break out of the R-rated mould you've found yourself in."

"Look it over? You know this isn't my genre."

She rubs her forehead as though she's stressed, "Look, we all have to make concessions, right? It's a few months of filming and a lot of money."

"It's fucking romance," you dismiss.

She raises her voice in response, "It's your fucking career."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You push back, and she's taking a glass from the shelf behind her desk and emptying the whiskey within it in one practised motion. She's keeping her cool and taking a moment to simmer down by cleaning up the papers. The silence tells you as much as her words could. She's trying to help you like she always has.

She says, "You know what it means. You're no George Clooney. You're no Vince Vaughn. One trick ponies are rare. You gotta work on your range."

You stay quiet, clenching your jaw because you can't argue. This is what she does: tells you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear. She's tough love and always has been. Took you under her wing and at times carried you to where you are today, so who are you to question her judgement?

"Did you ever stop to think 'why'?" She asks before taking a drink. "Why would I bring you a part that I know you're going to hate?"

You cross your arms, remaining silent as you stare at her. She smirks before answering her own question.

"Because I know who they're eyeing for the leading actress. Jenna Ortega. You know she's all the rage these days. Netflix deals and music videos. She's fuckin' viral and she's fuckin' money. Her name is gold so I want you on her fuckin' hip." She takes another sip, watching you absorb the information she's feeding you with an unrelenting stare.

She always gets like this, all the foul-mouthed excitement is enough to convince you that she really believes what she's saying.

"Alright. Got a pen?"

-

Pre-production is... well, it's different. It all feels a little foreign to you, right from the off with the script reading, because it's obviously such a different vibe than anything you're accustomed to. It's all so light and breezy and a little comical. You don't do comical.

There's no deep-seated angst, or hatred festering below the surface of your character, rather he's kind, loving, funny, a little bit of a klutz. It's a long stretch from the characters you usually play—murderers, drug dealers, car thieves. Now the viewers are supposed to like you?

Most days on set aren't that far outside of your comfort zone though—you don't think. You go through the motions like you always do, take direction and talk to the production crew, and keep it cordial and civil with the cast, especially with Jenna. Up until now, your characters have had a few brief scenes. It's all coffee shops and public parks, pretty places with lots of wide shots and lingering looks in the script, and you aren't sure how comfortable you are with it.

"Camera two," The director calls and you and Jenna take up position.

You grab her hand, and her smaller fingers curl around yours instinctively, holding on tight. She smiles at you and says softly, "Just like we talked about, okay?"

You nod and rub your thumb over hers to ease her nerves. There was this awkwardness for the first few days that has gradually eased away, the two of you talking more often. Not work stuff, which might have been smart. Just small talk. About food and places you've visited, TV, and bands, it kept things light and amicable.

"Quiet on the set."

Silence falls, and your heart rate speeds up. Your breathing is a little laboured as you wait.

It's the first time you're supposed to kiss her and somehow it doesn't feel like just acting, not really. Acting for you is fighting with some rogue cop or soldier, all stunted rage and brute force. Or you're stalking someone through the dark streets at night, the cold metal of the gun in your hand biting at your skin while you focus on nothing but landing a kill shot. There was never anyone looking at you the way Jenna is right now.

She's biting at her bottom lip, hazel eyes peering through impossibly long lashes to stare at you. You've been told this scene is important because it's a bit of a catalyst for the rest of the movie. She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and then when they call 'action' it's supposed to be one of those moments where fireworks erupt and the earth moves. That's what they want; a connection.

"Action."

Jenna bites her lip and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing up at you nervously. She's so much more practised than you, so much more effortless with putting on her act. All you have to do is smile and lean down to meet her lips. That's all there is to it, as the director says: just like that, perfect. But you want him to call cut. To say it's too staged, or the lighting is bad, or that the location isn't right.

No such luck.

You move slowly like she needs to be savoured. Of course, you've been coached, there's stage direction in your head in addition to her hand on your forearm.

Your lips brush hers tentatively, once, twice, and you tilt your head a little further to bring her closer. Close, but still not quite... until she breaks character and giggles into your mouth.

"I don't think you're supposed to be laughing," you joke, and there's an eruption of frustration from the other side of the cameras at a ruined take. You aren't bothered though, and neither is Jenna by the looks of it. She's half hiding her face against your chest and grinning like an idiot.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly, pulling away. "It's so hot in here."

She fans herself and starts pacing, while the director calls out, "What the hell was that?"

You wave a hand, "Sorry, my bad." You try to take the blame. "Can I get five minutes?"

The director sighs and gives in with a shrug. "Five minutes!"

"Really, you don't have to—"

"It's fine," you explain quickly, before turning to the line producer who just happens to be passing, "Hey, can someone cool her down? Maybe some water?"

"I'm fine," she tries to argue.

"You're flustered," you tease.

"You were doing this thing with your eyes. I don't know how to explain it. It was kind of intense, I had to laugh," she laughs again, and it's an easy, airy sound, the kind that soothes, and you decide that you like hearing it.

"I was? Damn," you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"I know this isn't usually you're thing, I'm guessing it's your first kiss on camera? Just relax. It'll be nice," she shrugs, clearly far more sure of herself than you.

-

You're deep into the filming now. You think you're selling it, this whole relationship thing, making it seem natural as well as making the people around you believe that the chemistry is there. The weirdest thing of all is that you really enjoyed kissing her. Or, at the very least, you haven't minded it thus far. You don't know if that's the right feeling to have, there's no guidebook for this—not that you've read.

Off the set, she's nice, she's friendly and eager to get to know you. Maybe it's weird that she's trying too hard, maybe she just wants to work as seamlessly as possible. Regardless, it seems to be helping, because now, when it's your turn for coverage, you're more than happy to lean in and capture her lips. She's gotten bolder and so have you, to the point where she runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you back, so when 'cut' finally comes and the mood is broken, it takes a few moments to reorient yourself to the real world.

It's easy, you decide.

Now, the two of you have been joking about today for a while. She's been running this rhetoric of how excited she is for the car scene.

You remember your first read of the script and how this part had you almost cancelling the gig. So, sitting here in the backseat, with cameras fitted all around you and Jenna in your lap, is just a reminder of the monumental shift from where you were then to where you are now.

"Just ignore them," Jenna instructs and kisses you lightly. "Do whatever feels natural." She's echoing the words of the director, though from her they're much more relaxing to hear. You kiss her, her body languid and warm, pressed flush against yours. The touches you feared come so naturally now as you put a hand on her waist and trace her ribs, dragging her shirt up a little bit more with each pull.

There's something rather enticing, you must admit, about putting hands on her slender waist, even if it's under the watchful eye and strict instructions of the camera. Especially when her tongue does that thing where it flickers past her lips and finds your own. Fuck, she's good at this. There's no other word for it.

There has to be a call for a 'cut' coming soon, right? It was supposed to be a brief make-out, so says the script, but they don't seem too interested in stopping either of you anytime soon. You've heard that it's normal, to feel aroused while filming, but it certainly doesn't feel right. The fear is seeping in the longer this goes on; fear that Jenna will feel exactly what you're scared she'll feel.

But those short jean shorts she's wearing while sitting atop your lap, hips flush with yours, tend to elicit some automatic reaction, whether you want it to or not.

"Alright, cut! Great work everyone. Break for fifteen!" The director yells, the tension snapping immediately as Jenna rolls away, giggling.

She says something to you, you don't catch what as you blink in her direction, but she's already climbing out of the car, bending forward ever so slightly to give you a tantalising show of her ass before shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later you've made your way to the drinks trailer for some much-needed water, that's when there's a tap on your shoulder and the unmistakable strawberry scent that accompanies Jenna hits your nose.

"You look a little shocked, is everything okay?" She has this wry smile on her face that turns your stomach a little bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you respond stiffly, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long drink. You nod towards her and state, "Good work out there."

"I should say the same to you," She's closer than before, the tip of her shoe bumping against yours as you stand with the picnic table at your back. "You're a natural. And the boner? Nice touch," she mocks.

She's far too cavalier for your liking right now, and more than a little brazen.

"Don't look so freaked out. No one is going to say anything. It happens all the time, don't worry."

"Do you just have a thing for humiliating me, Ortega?" It's a thing the two of you have been doing for a few days, the fake sternness and the use of surnames, like you're pretending to be angry with each other.

"What if I do? Are you going to go file a complaint?" She sings, tracing her finger down the centre of your chest.

"Watch it, Ortega," you respond half-heartedly, and she steps a little closer.

"How about you keep the boners to a minimum from now on though. It's distracting." The smirk on her face grows only more devious before she winks and then turns away, vanishing into the crowd and leaving you alone and in need of a very cold shower.

-

On-screen chemistry is the single most important thing in a film like this. If you don't make the watchers believe that the two of you are madly in love, then it's all pointless. You're getting good at this, playing this game, this new facet to your role. You think about the warmth of Jenna's kiss and her fingers curled around the nape of your neck; the feel of her in your arms.

Each take gets harder to finish. Make no mistake, it's not that the kisses are a problem, in fact, they're actually a little too easy.

You're both laid in a bed, under the covers, you're on your back and Jenna is half-draped over you. Her hair is a purposeful mess and there's lipstick on your neck. The implication is clear, the two lead characters hooked up for the first time, and you're simmering in the morning after, caught by your character's phone ringing beside you on the side table.

Jenna is quiet, watching the sheets twitch every time you move. You can tell that she's thinking by the furrow in her brow and the way she bites on her lip. The cameras are rolling and you need to answer the phone. There's no one on the phone, of course, that gets added in post. For the purpose of the scene, it's your ex-girlfriend who can't quite let you go.

"Why do you keep calling me?" You look weary like your heart is about to give up. The line is silent, but you know the script. "I don't care if you're upset with me, it's over. It's done. There's nothing left to say."

Jenna props herself up on one elbow, facing you with her dark eyes, her tousled hair falling over her shoulder. She is, in a word, mesmerising, and it feels wrong to turn your face away from her, even to add more angst for the camera.

"I'm hanging up," you continue, staring back at her.

Jenna pushes her hand under the sheets and balls it into a fist. She hovers it right over your crotch. Her character is supposed to jack you off while you're on the phone until you manage to hang up. That's what's supposed to happen.

You fake a gasp as her hand begins to move. When she bites down on her lip in response, it's the hottest expression you've ever seen. You swallow hard and your cock gives an honest twitch that feels as though it catches her attention for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widen and flick to the source of the movement, her jaw clenches and it brings you an almost unwanted satisfaction.

Each fake stroke presses down onto the growing ridge of your hardening cock, but neither of you breaks character or even dares to break eye contact. You keep up with your lines, and the strain in your voice is all too real, "I don't care how torn up you are about this, me and you are finished."

The ache in your muscles builds heat prickling under your skin, setting you on fire. You tighten your jaw in response as a means to control yourself. Only for Jenna to do the unthinkable. She lowers her hand and glides it down the length of your hard cock before wrapping her hand around it.

What's she doing?

She grips tightly, and even though there is a pair of underwear separating the two of you, it's still her. For the first time in the duration of this shoot, you drop out of character completely, staring at her in utter disbelief. What are you supposed to do in this situation? You can't just say something, it's going to get you both in trouble.

She strokes you beneath the bedsheets in tandem with the scene, so no one else has a chance of knowing. So, you keep talking, murmuring some fake dialogue and struggling with every word.

"It's—mmh," you turn your head, squeezing your eyes closed and steeling yourself. This is madness, utter madness. The throb of your cock only worsens the longer her hand keeps sliding, stimulating. It's a hellish limbo. "It's not fair for you to harass me like this, delete my number will you?"

This is the point where the ex-girlfriend realises something is wrong. In the script, she's figured it all out. She recognises the whimpers in your voice, and you're supposed to deny it. But Jenna won't stop touching you, pushing down harder, applying more pressure and using the full length of your erection as her playground.

Your breathing is heavy and strained. You try to clear your throat subtly, "No, no I'm not with someone right now." You glance at Jenna who grips tighter and smiles devilishly. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If you think, for even a second—"

You try your best to focus on your performance, but with the physical distraction, all your carefully practised lines start to fall apart, coming out jumbled. Jenna is rubbing harder, stroking faster, and her hand feels so good around your cock.

This is the point where your ex shouts, and you finally hang up the phone and drop it onto the floor, kissing Jenna fervently.

"Cut!" The director calls. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Suddenly, the two of you are apart. A rush of cold air floods the space between you. Reality checks in again, reminding you that this was not in the script.

"You good?" Jenna asks, and you nod back. She looks proud of herself, the cheeky little smirk that crosses her features is all too telling. A reminder of just how insufferable she can be.

"What was that?" You lean closer and whisper, trying to make sure that the rest of the cast and crew can't hear you.

"That was acting." She responds confidently.

The director interrupts by calling your name and saying, "Alright, next scene. Going to need you under the covers. Prepare the phone call."

Now it's this whole role reversal, Jenna's character gets her own phone call from her own ex. That's the concept at play here. Meanwhile, you're down between her legs. The script says to 'mimic oral sex' which sounds... so much easier than it actually is.

Aiming to ignore the whole ordeal, or at least your conversation and what it could mean, you duck down beneath the sheets to prepare. She's lifting them up and watching you get into position. She's spreading her legs, while a team of assistants adjust the sheets over you to dress up the shot.

Looking up at Jenna under the sheets, through the darkness and at the apex of her thighs, this feels so wrong. She's... pretty. No. You stop the thoughts in their tracks. This isn't a time to indulge. You're filming a movie, playing a role. In reality, this is your job. There's a script, there's a purpose.

Still, the whole situation just feels so strange.

"Action," the director yells.

As per the script, Jenna drops the sheet as the phone rings. Now it's just you and everything below her chest, trapped under a blanket. Your hands are barely hovering near her thighs, and revenge is on your mind. If she can toy with you, you can toy with her.

So you hold her spread legs, grip them firmly just as you hear her answer the call, "If you want to grovel, then go ahead and grovel. Just remember the last time." Jenna's voice is perfect for her character, and just as it's always been, full of attitude and feisty. She's passionate, especially when it comes to putting her acting on display.

Alright, 'mimic oral sex'... first it's kissing. Lightly placed, right at the top of her thigh, little pecks to tease and taunt. You feel the slight tremble beneath your fingertips as she attempts to carry on the faux conversation. They said you shouldn't touch her. They said she shouldn't touch you.

But you feel the heat coming from her. You're mere inches away, and sure, there's the cotton thin fabric of her underwear blocking the way, but even still you catch the barest hint of her scent—sweet and musky. You grip her thighs more intensely and press your lips against the fabric.

"It was one kiss," Jenna continues, and her voice betrays her now. A subtle tremor that undermines how put together she had seemed moments before. It's enough to have you smirking.

You roll your tongue over the shape of her through the fabric, testing your limits. There's only so much you can get away with, but you'll push it. Push it as far as you can, this is the bed she made.

Jenna rolls her hips towards you, and, of course, the cameras can't see this, all they can see is her on the bed holding the sheets and pretending to talk to her ex.

"It didn't mean anything..." She tries again and fails, a breathy moan forcing its way out and revealing the growing pleasure, the need growing in her voice. She has to place her free hand over her mouth as you continue to taste her, your tongue working over her panties with no hesitation, all rhythm and no breaks.

You continue, running the flat of your tongue over her, flattening the damp fabric against her cunt, and you feel her throbbing. It's undeniable, the way she tenses under your grip and shifts ever so slightly, each slight movement an obvious clue towards her struggling with maintaining her composure.

It's not difficult to hear the change in her voice. The shake and strain of each breath only grow worse the more your tongue curls against her panties. Sure, you haven't yet come into contact with bare skin, but simply knowing just how enraptured she is by the teasing, is enough.

You can't help the slight chuckle that follows, and why would you? This whole performance is starting to become very personal, and when you squeeze her thighs, and apply pressure until it's enough to bruise, you can hear the soft mewl as she fights her way through a rather passionate phone call.

"Why don't you just fuck off?" She hangs up the phone and throws it to the side. In a moment, the same hands are wrapping around your head and dragging you close. As if there was any space left to separate you. "Oh god yes!" she moans out—it's all the script. The scene is supposed to continue until there's a fade to black. No one needs to know that the moan is real.

At the very least, she tries to contain herself. Though her hips swaying, and bucking rhythmically against your face say something very different. And the heat radiating from her core is undeniable. The cotton of her underwear sticks to her so heavily, clinging to the slight folds and wrinkles. Enough to get a good idea about what's going on behind it. That there is indeed a welcoming, quivering cunt that might benefit from an enthusiastic tongue.

Jenna's groans take on a noticeable tempo. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop. Fuck. Yes!" Her words are spilling out messily. For a moment, her responsibilities seem to vanish. She's abandoned her character and resorted to feeling your tongue against her pussy with such ferocity that, were it not for your hands pinning her down, she might have suffocated you in that tantalising heat.

As the cameras continue to roll, with filming still going on above the sheets, the pace only grows hastier.

You're aware of your heart rate spiking, the sudden realisation, the knowledge that someone might be onto the two of you, that you've crossed the imaginary line that exists between the bedroom scene. With the flicker of your tongue, that line gets a little more blurred.

And Jenna seems to be in no hurry to stop either. What was supposed to be just acting becomes a carnal need. Her hips wriggle frantically against your gyrating mouth.

"Cut!" Comes the much-needed command, and you rip away from beneath the sheet.

Jenna's chest heaves, her thighs tremble and her toned stomach tenses. You struggle, forcing back the burning desire to claim her, devour her, kiss her senseless.

It's just acting.

-

Filming goes late into the night, as it so often does. Jenna has a series of scenes with the supporting cast, and you're only there to support them. Still, you make sure to keep watch from the sidelines. She's beautiful when she acts, all passion and fire. That's another reason you're so drawn to her. Everything is so easy for her, flawless. Talented little minx.

Hours after sunset, you stop by her trailer to check in, like you so often do.

You knock, and seconds later she peeks out of the door, saying, "What? What did I do now? Oh, it's you." The harsh greeting melts away into relief, and you grin at the reaction.

"Damn, maybe I'll go then." You make a gesture to turn away, and Jenna grabs your wrist and pulls you inside with all her strength.

"Are you stupid?"

"Me? No, the very definition of sanity." You laugh and follow her further inside. It's bigger than your own, with a seating area and everything. Not that you can focus on the surrounding amenities. Because her black, lace thong is the only thing she's wearing, and, for a second, it leaves you speechless. It's impossible not to stare at the way her round little butt perks out behind her.

Jenna asks, "Like what you see?"

"What happened to your clothes?"

"My clothes are fine, I'm in my trailer aren't I? Nothing strange about relaxing like this." She says as she saunters off, the golden curves of her back highlighted by the single lamp she has lit in the corner. She stands in her kitchenette, bare back to you, pouring herself a glass of red. Her thong contrasts starkly with the honey colour of her skin. She stretches an arm back, and half glances over her shoulder.

"I can feel you staring, you know?" Jenna says, pausing for a moment while the cogs turn in your brain. After a while, there's no point in resisting. So, you close the distance between you, stand behind her, and embrace her thin waist.

"Am I bothering you?" you question, pressing closer.

"Only a little," she leans back into the touch. "But that doesn't mean stop."

An unseen force guides you. Perhaps it's those thoughts that came to mind when you were holding her, on set. What would happen if you just got to know her better?

Your mouth feels so dry from the nerves, but you drag a hand up the length of her waist, over her taut stomach, before cupping her breast. Jenna closes her eyes and hums in response, and when your palm rubs against her bare nipple, her mouth falls open.

You sink to her ear and bite it gently while catching her nipple between two fingers, which elicits a sharp gasp from her lips. You pull her firmly against your chest, and her back presses to your shirt. Fingertips brush her belly, stroking from hipbone to ribcage.

"I figured we had a little unfinished business. Remember?" You kiss her earlobe and grin, fully aware she can't see the expression.

"It did seem to me like you were quite close to being finished," she teases. Your fingers curl and squeeze the swell of her breast, earning a groan. "Tell me. How was my performance?"

"Could use some work," you mumble, kissing the side of her neck. Jenna's breath shudders when your teeth drag against her throat. She sets the glass down, freeing her hand to rest on your forearm. Holding, or perhaps holding on, you can't tell. Either way, it's an invitation to keep going.

"You think so? Looked to me like it was the best performance you had ever seen—ahem—felt."

You chuckle in her ear. All the while, her breathing becomes a little heavier. She even reaches a hand back, curling fingers in your hair to make sure your mouth remains on her. It sends an alarm bell ringing in the back of your head, a warning, a red flag, a stop sign. But what if you don't?

"I'm not like my character," she whispers. "She's all romance, nice dates and lovey-dovey shit."

"No?" you whisper.

"No," she says sternly. She twists under your grasp to face you. Your hand lands on her hip, and before she's looking up at you with her lips parted, she murmurs, "But I do enjoy being eaten out."

This time, Jenna pulls you down into the kiss. The sweet pout of her lips draws you in. She tastes sharp, like the wine, but her mouth is warm and inviting. You take her bottom lip between your teeth, and she moans, her painted nails scraping through your hair. You feel her hands fumbling, then the thud as your pants fall.

"Fuck me," she breathes the command when your palm finds the swell of her breast again. She's pushing you back, guiding you across the room, pinning you onto the arm of her couch. She lifts her knees and presses it between your legs. She pins you there and continues to kiss you, harder, rougher.

She grabs the collar of your shirt, and then the buttons begin popping. The air brushes your chest making you even more aware of the insanity unfolding in her trailer. As she unravels the rest of the shirt, Jenna pulls back, standing up with a cocky smile on her face.

There's not a chance to speak, or even comprehend, for that matter. She puts her palm on your bare chest and forces you back. You crash into the cushions, and the next thing you know, Jenna swings a knee over your head.

In an instant, she's hooking her thong to the side, then taking a handful of your hair and sitting on your face. Your hands move automatically, gripping her thighs, pressing thumbs into the soft, ample flesh. Your tongue brushes across her pussy, and the feeling of your tongue flicking across her makes Jenna let out a beautiful, quivering moan.

Her scent intoxicates. It's divine.

With strong hands, she leads your movements, grinding forward against your mouth. Daring, unashamed, desperate. She's just as much an animal as she is a woman, and that realisation makes your body tense. You part her tender folds with your tongue and taste the warmth of her nectar, causing Jenna to keen.

Her cheeks grind against your lips as she quivers atop you. Her sighs alternate between delighted huffs and breathless moans. As long as you're licking, the sounds keep coming. If anything, they grow stronger and more desperate. She won't hold back, and it makes your head spin, your focus becoming a singular, dizzy blur.

Her juices coat your mouth, slicking your chin and running down your throat. She tightens her grip on your scalp as if trying to punish you. But really, her actions only draw you closer. The taste of her makes you drunk, and not the kind that comes with a hangover in the morning, no. But the kind that makes the rest of the world and its expectations dissolve, leaving just the two of you in the remaining silence.

Jenna's pussy is a beautiful thing, you realise. Swollen and dripping, deliciously wet. It's a tempting treat just begging to be toyed with. You tongue her clit, rolling it back and forth. When you get just the right spot, a tremor passes through Jenna's frame, a hard squeeze of your scalp, as though it had been scalding her.

"Fuck, so good," Jenna groans. "Keep going. Just like that."

More noises pour out of her and splash into your ears, exciting you in a way you've never been before. And the little shimmies she gives you aren't unpleasant, or unwelcome, far from it. Those subtle dances send waves through you and make the motions of your mouth automatic. Your tongue can't get enough. Neither can your hands. You bring them higher, taking her firm ass, sinking fingertips into her plush, round cheeks and pulling her onto your face.

The movement makes her laugh. "Look at you, so excited. Hungry, are we?" You stroke your tongue up the length of her glistening wet cunt, and Jenna twitches on top of you. Her delight returns, a cry of joy and want. "Go on, eat it. Eat that fucking pussy."

The muscles in her abdomen tighten. Sore and taught, every part of her shivers and shakes, twitching and fluttering with your movements. She cries out in ecstasy, as driven mad by your tongue as you are by her taste.

Her thighs clamp around your head. You can feel her begin to writhe, twisting left and right as the pleasure rages through her. She can't control her hips, keeping them glued to your mouth and twitching violently.

Jenna cums, and her juices flow into your mouth. You drink the reward of your handiwork, as her words become hazy murmurs. An erratic pattern of curses and blasphemous platitudes. As if singing all her highest praises.

When she stands, her legs wobble with the aftershocks of an orgasm, but her posture says there are still things she wants, things only you can give her.

It takes seconds. Jenna's thong is on the floor and then she's pulling at your waistband, tugging them down until she has your cock free. Her nails scratch along the length of your length and her palm settles around it.

"Fuck, you're so hard."

Jenna strokes your shaft and gives it a playful squeeze. You watch the heat shimmer and roll around in her eyes as she sizes you up, and the way your cock gives a stubborn and needy twitch. She seems to like that, too.

When her eyes go lidded and she lowers her head down, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue across the head, you almost can't comprehend how good it feels. Your spine tightens, everything goes rigid, and you're left without a shred of control over your voice. That seems to matter not at all to Jenna.

"Hold on," she slips the head of your cock between her lips, just barely, and smiles around it as she smears your precum across her tongue. Before she looks up, meeting your eye, and then forces her head down further, wrapping her warm, wet mouth around as much of you as she can manage. You both gasp as her tongue sweeps along the underside, and you see her cheeks puff out for a moment, then relax once she settles into a rhythm.

It feels amazing, un-fucking-real. Jenna is bobbing her head up and down. Blissful moans leave her with every pass, and the lust-fogged look she gives you should be illegal. Wet sucking and slurping fill the trailer, drowned out by her hums of adoration. Each one sends vibrations shuddering through your cock.

You thread your fingers in her hair. It's a token act, your control as she moves means nothing. In a blink, she's sucking the length of you down to the very base. She struggles a little when you hit the back of her throat, but pushes through, going again and again, deeper and harder each time. Tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Still, she won't stop.

"Jenna," your voice is thick and strained. "I'm going to—"

A few more passes of her hungry, slippery mouth have you finally toppling over the edge. If she has any intention of pulling away, the temptation or aversion isn't potent enough for her to react. She kisses and slurps, bobbing feverishly, drinking your spurts of cum and caressing your length with her soft, swollen lips.

Jenna stays with you in her mouth, breathing heavily, the look of satisfaction on her face intense and perverse. She takes her time to gently nurse the last pulses from your erection until you're twitching and overstimulated. Only then, and after a minute longer, does she finally concede and pops her mouth off your cock.

The emptiness it creates feels too much like a loss, and yet, all you can do is stare at her, heart hammering and unable to feel anything past the aftermath.

Jenna perches herself on the coffee table, her legs pressed together and angled to the side, letting her hair fall over her bare shoulders. With one hand, she cleans her mouth and smiles at you.

"I guess this puts a line through unfinished business, huh?" She laughs a little. "Long day tomorrow, best get some sleep."

Then just like that, you're half-dressed, watching her slip off to the tiny bathroom to clean up. A few minutes later the trailer door swings shut, clicking behind you.

Outside, the night air is cool and bitter. It snatches the warmth away from the memory of her touch.

-

They're saying it's going to be a success. Critics have reviewed the project already, including early screenings, and private showings. The reception is very positive. That's great, you know it is, and everything is piling up and coming to a close now. All that's left is one last night, the premiere itself, the main event. This will determine the fate of the film, whether it's a runaway hit, a fantastic start to awards season, or a straight-to-streaming disaster.

"Been a while," the voice behind you says and you turn to see Jenna at your shoulder. She looks exquisite, elegant, and alluring in her gown.

"Understatement." You take the time to look her over again. It was only a couple of months ago you saw her naked and had her on your face. It feels so distant, and almost like a dream. Maybe it is, given how quickly she went cold afterwards.

"Red carpets aren't really my favourite thing. It's... all overrated, isn't it?" She sighs.

"Yeah, you told me."

"I did?"

"At the party, on the last day of shooting. You said, and I quote, 'I hate red carpets, everyone is so fake.'"

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I must have been drunk."

"You were very drunk," you confirm. "Remember? And you were doing that thing with your foot."

Jenna tenses. "I did, didn't I?"

It was a few hours into the party, and most everyone was way too drunk to even make sense. You found yourself sitting down, trying to stop your head from spinning the way it was. Then she came and sat across from you. Apparently, she'd been drinking more than usual, given the wide-eyed look she had when she'd approached.

"You're handsome," she told you and flashed a drunken smile.

"You're drunk enough to say that to anyone."

"You're smart," she leaned closer, and even in the darkness of the room, you were mesmerised by the way her tanned skin contrasted with the tight, white dress. "You're talented. I'm glad they cast you." She runs her foot from your ankle, along the inside of your leg.

Her toes met your knee. You think you stopped breathing as she traced circles on your inner thigh. You looked up at her face, and she was smiling, a devilish one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You smell so good. Like coffee and mint. It's infuriating." Her shoe slid higher, pressing against the crotch of your pants, and she frowned. "No reaction. Maybe you're shy? Oh, wait."

She pulled her foot back and then bent to the side to reach down under the table. After a few seconds and a few confused expressions, as she fiddled with something out of sight, her shoe fell to the floor. Jenna slid the sole of her bare foot between your legs.

"That's better, right?"

She sat up straight and clicked her tongue. You couldn't believe it. Barefoot, hair down, smouldering gaze and curling her toes against your crotch. It was a lot for you at the time. She smirked, shifting again and sipping a glass of champagne before putting it to the side.

"So, how has it been? This whole romance thing?" She stepped closer with her toes and her heel pressed over your cock, digging in slightly.

"I hated the idea of it. Didn't want any part of it. But being here with everyone has made me change my mind. I've done well."

She started to rub the underside of her foot faster, creating an overwhelming amount of friction. And her smug, smiling face wasn't helping your cause at all. Then she leaned closer, so her chest was bunched up and exposed. She teased the top of your cock with her toes and rested her chin in her hand.

"I think you just have to accept it. Learn to enjoy it. It helps that everyone was so nice to work with."

"Was I?" she asks with a flirtatious lilt, pressing her toes harder against your stiffening cock. "Was I particularly nice to you?"

You choke out a laugh. "You don't need me to tell you that you're nice to look at. But you don't need me to tell you you're more than a pretty face either."

"Do me a favour, undo your trousers."

Now? Really?

"Seriously? Here?" You're sure your voice was shaking.

"Now or never."

The pressure in your loins was undeniable, and you went to work unzipping and undoing buttons. Discreetly you pried them open and pulled down your underwear. Your cock sprung free, and you sighed in relief.

She rested a hand on your arm. It was surprisingly comforting. Then she pressed her foot down to angle your cock against her instep, slipping her soft, warm skin up and down your shaft, barely rocking it back and forth.

"That's better." She smiled sweetly, teasing the head with her toes. "You were nervous." She circled the tip of your cock with her big toe. "That first day of filming, you were so worried about messing up."

"Well, yeah. New role, new movie, no way of knowing."

"Hindsight is always 20:20, but you worry too much. Don't spend so much time thinking about what can go wrong, focus more on the things that can go right."

"Like this?"

"Like this," she grinned as she spoke. Her foot pressed harder and moved faster, stroking you up and down and you did everything you could to keep a straight face as people walked by. Each with an innocent conversation, unaware of what was going on beneath the table. "Besides, you did alright."

Alright. Not great. Not good. Alright.

It's about as much of a compliment on your work that Jenna has ever given you verbally, though you wondered if the foot on your cock is indicative of anything.

"Thank you. I, uh, appreciate the feedback."

"We make a good team." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on getting you off and her top lip stiffened. "Solving problems. Improvising scenes." Her foot kicked up a gear, in a blur, up and down, faster and faster.

"Jenna, I'm—"

"Great on-screen chemistry. Great off-scene chemistry." She pushed you right over the edge with her sole on the underside of your cock. The look on her face said it all. A smile so wide as she felt you twitch against her, throbbing, shaking, and pouring cum right over her skin. "Though you are rather easy to manipulate, aren't you?"

She shot you a wink as she cleaned her foot with a tissue. "See you around."

That image has been burned into your head for a long time since then, though you work to shake it out of there while walking the red carpet. It's all camera flashes and the chore of being paraded in front of them. You follow her lead, and she meets the press with the very embodiment of what they'd want—grace, charisma, flair and passion.

You answer a few basic questions that can't reveal anything interesting or new. Something about keeping the magic, and hopefully breaking it when you win a bunch of awards. Wouldn't that be nice?

"Where do you think this opportunity takes you after the film is released?" one interviewer asks.

"Obviously, any opportunity to work with other amazing talents is an honour. I don't know when, if, or what the offer will be, but I'm certainly happy to be working again."

"And if you had the opportunity to work with Miss Ortega again?" It's a question that she overhears, and she throws you a look over her shoulder.

You try not to stammer. "Of course, if I was fortunate enough, I'd take it. She's... unparalleled."

-

This has never been your favourite part, it might even be the worst. Sitting through your own premiere, watching your own work, it's like a long, self-aware nightmare. It's a natural reaction, but that's little consolation, particularly when you know what scene is coming next. It's some over-complicated form of torture to watch yourself get a handjob on the big screen. Everyone's watching. Including Jenna, sitting next to you.

This is the cavalcade of self-humiliation.

To your surprise, Jenna reaches over to slip her fingers between your own. It's the gentle and comforting squeeze that's accompanied by a sly smirk from her when you glance in her direction. Her eyelids lower and an undeniable tension builds between the two of you. She leans in to whisper to you.

"About last time..."

You smirk. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"The ending was abrupt, don't you think?" Her teeth catch on her lip, and those sinful eyes narrow.

"A little."

"Follow me."

Jenna stands up without waiting for an answer. Being in the back corner of the screening makes it fairly easy to slip out after her. When you reach the corridor leading to the bathrooms, Jenna looks you over and smirks.

"Tell me," she laughs out the words as she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face and pins you against the wall, "How often do you think about that night in my trailer?" She pushes up onto her tip-toes, wraps an arm around the back of your neck and pulls your ear to her lips. "Don't lie to me, I know you've thought about it."

Her tone is a familiar temptation, and you've missed it. The sensual inflexion in her voice winds its way through every bone and tendon until it's there, inside and immersing you in the raw carnality that Jenna makes you feel. "All the time."

"Me too." She pulls on your wrist, leading you again and heading for the bathroom. You let her, and she pulls you into a cubicle with her, closing and locking the door behind you. "And how many times have you got off imagining it, picturing it." Her hands stroke along the front of your trousers, and the button pops open in her fingers. You don't even get to reply before she says, "Yeah, me too."

There's something perverse about hearing her say that. Something lewd in the way she smiles at you and peels down your trousers and underwear and instantly slumps to her knees. There's no teasing, no showmanship, nothing but blunt hunger, naked and fierce.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, and her eyes dart up, and her lips pause just as she's about to take you. Her hot breath spilling over the tip of your cock.

"Shut the fuck up," she laughs. Her gaze narrows. She sinks her wet, warm mouth down onto your length, swallowing it bit by bit. When the head touches the back of her throat, she giggles as her eyes water.

A moan involuntarily slips out. Your hips buck forward. Jenna's tongue is like velvet, rolling around the tip of your cock, then enveloping your shaft. You can't help the thrusting. It's automatic, primal, a natural response to being encased in her intoxicating mouth.

Jenna looks up at you, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide with anticipation. She pops her mouth off your swollen cock with a wet noise, and immediately, her fist closes around it, jerking you. She smiles. "Wanna do it?"

"That's how you're going to ask?" You scoff, leaning against the cubicle wall, a slight grin pulling at your mouth. "Is the art of seduction really that dead?"

"Well, forgive me if I don't quote poetry at you and cover myself in rose petals," she says as she climbs back to her feet and places her hand on your shoulders. She guides you to take a seat as she jokes, "Poetry bores the shit out of me."

It's almost too fast when her slim hands lift her dress up to her waist. She watches your face, her teeth pin her lip as she reaches down to hook her panties to the side. She slips a finger inside her already dripping pussy. You throb, hard as a rock, when her hand withdraws and she's reaching up and pressing the gleaming digit against your mouth.

You taste her wetness, licking your tongue against it. "Fuck," you growl, the urge to have her, devour her, ravage her takes you.

"You want it?" Jenna sways her hips and bites her lip. Her tight little body was made for sinning, it's plain and simple. You can't resist touching her, teasing your hands up the back of her thighs and around the ample curve of her ass, then pulling her onto your lap.

"Want it," you breathe the words against her lips. Her hand settles around the base of your cock and drags it across her slick pussy. She sighs into your mouth when your thumbs dig into her hips. That's an invitation to slide inside her.

Then you fill her. Her lips seal onto yours, her eyes flutter closed, and a sweet, deep, hungry sound of satisfaction leaves her. It's a sudden rush, everything about this situation, here and now, is a euphoric madness.

She looks incredible above you, her round, firm tits straining against the dress fabric, beads of sweat at the hollow of her collar and the heat in her eyes. Perched on top of you, Jenna rolls her hips forward, grinding against your lap, coiling that hot, wet flesh around your cock.

"God, your cock feels so fucking good," she gasps as she rides you, the way she moves her hips, the wild shifts and squeezes of her tight cunt around you bring the knot in your stomach already. You buck up into her and a ragged cry tears from Jenna's throat.

You seize her hair and kiss her, swallow her cries and moans, her gasps and whimpers, drink every little sound she makes and lose yourself in the rocking grind of her hips. You're both animalistic now. Her with her bouncing, grinding and needy fucking. You with your digging fingertips and the pounding of your crotch against her. It's filthy, it's unhinged.

"This might be the last time we—"

"Shut up," you interrupt.

"Last time we do this."

"Shut the fuck up," your hands dig into her waist, pulling her down and plunging your cock deep.

"Tell me," she says breathlessly, slamming her hips to meet your thrusts. "If we end this right here, is that good enough?"

"Fuck no," you hiss the words. You reach up to pull down her dress, prying her perky, bare breasts free and enveloping one in your mouth. Your tongue traces the nipple and you draw it in deeper. Jenna slows to a firm grind, holding your cock tight inside her before she snaps forward, locking her arms behind your head. You feel the shudder inside her, feel her clenching on you.

It's a deep, powerful moan, straight to your ears, as she cums. Pulling back and grabbing your face in her palms, forcing you to look right into her eyes. The blissful, fucked-senseless expression on her face is priceless, so is the dizzying, tightening feel of her cunt. Jenna collapses, huffing and panting, while you still hunger for more.

You pick her up and slam her against the cubicle door. It rocks under the impact. She giggles and takes a handful of your hair.

"Go on, fuck me. Like it's the only time you're ever going to get the chance."

So, you do. What more could you ever do? Is there anything more rational than drilling Jenna Ortega against a door in a movie theatre bathroom?

"Good, yeah," she wraps her legs around your waist and curls fingers in your hair. "You're getting there." She tilts her head and you claim the side of her throat, biting her neck. "If I tell you that you can cum inside, will you fuck me harder? Is that it?"

You groan into her neck, grip tightens, and you draw her body right to yours.

"If I tell you how badly I want to feel you cum, that it's driving me crazy, would that make it better?" She tightens her thighs around your waist and huffs out the words as though the effort is too much. "Go on. Do it."

The door rattles on its hinges, but you hardly even notice. Everything is her. Her body, her eyes, her voice, her. Your fingers lock around her waist, hold her tight while you pound her. The sweat-slick strands of her hair hang across her forehead, her skin glistens, and you're mesmerised by how good she looks while you fuck her.

You sink your teeth into her shoulder as you fill her. You lose control, twitching, and buried to the hilt, a groan into her skin as you twitch inside her. Cum spurts, your body shakes, her sex pulsates and clenches. She milks everything, and the next thing you know, you're falling back onto the seat, her collapsed on top of you and heaving. Gentle movements of her hips keep the sensations alive until you have nothing left to give her.

Overstimulation sets in quickly, her fingers slowly entwine with yours as you sag back against the seat, trembling and spent. The pair of you stay there, sweat-drenched, messy and grinning, sharing the tangle of soft noises in the silence.

"So, that was..."

"Pretty fucking good," she cuts you off. She rests her head against your shoulder, her hands settle on your arms, caressing you.

"That's what I would have said," you tell her, as you run your hand over her thigh and palm her ass.

"Damn. We might as well get married and drive off into the sunset." She laughs, and you chuckle with her.

"Or maybe we could just do this again sometime?" you ask with a slight grin.

She considers it. Pouting her lips and twitching them side to side. Her expression takes on a knowing edge, something mischievous as she looks you over and replies. "I'll see you around, maybe."

Now that...

That's just cruel.

[screamlet]

“I wish you would write a fic where…” Through whatever contrivance, Buck tries to woo Tommy back through trivia. Maybe he gets Tommy’s team in on it, or the emcee/host - but it’s all Tommy-themed questions because Buck is trying to prove he knows him. Does it work? Maybe it’s all surface level and it hurts Tommy as much as he appreciates it. Maybe he revealed more than he thought and Buck was listening, taking it all in. Maybe Tommy decided to participate against him and inadvertently reveals something or accidentally says he loves him or something. If you would like it, I humbly offer whatever you can do with this premise!

heeeeey it took one million years but here's something!!! i love shenanigans, i hope this lives up to them.

bucktommy fix-it, 2k

read on the ao3!

---

Tommy's not exactly kidnapped.

He's met in the parking lot at Harbor by Hen, Karen, and a couple of big smiles, and then shoved into the backseat of their car and driven off somewhere. 

"You know, it's been my experience that some people text when they want to hang out," Tommy says.

"So you did ignore my voicemails!" Karen yells. "I knew it."

"It's not personal!" Tommy says.

"I'm taking it very personal," Hen replies. "Like hell you're leaving the Christmas card list again." 

"I'll move."

"Not in this housing market."

Tommy groans because it's true. 

And see, that's a little crazy but a little fun, to know that they care enough to abduct him and take him out for the night. It's then not really surprising that Howie's waiting for them at the bar they used to frequent ages ago, when Tommy was still at the 118. 

"I got the cuffs," Howie announces, a pair of very-real looking handcuffs dangling from his fingers.

"Those better not be for me," Tommy says as Karen pulls him out of the car with shocking strength. 

"Don't worry, they're not LAPD property," Hen assures him. "They're Bobby's."

"Please stop making me learn things," Tommy says.

He's already handcuffed. Howie's living-with-a-toddler sleight-of-hand has gotten unreal. 

It's around this time that one shock wears off and another dawns: this is a scheme and Tommy is trapped.

"No no no no, whatever you're doing—"

"Chim, no!"

The bar's tables have been cleared from the center to make two long tables facing each other. Fine, cute, two teams, it's now clear to Tommy that he has to win Evan back or something with trivia. The difference, though, are the two chairs in the center, where Evan is already sitting (and handcuffed). He turns around, almost tipping the chair over except Eddie catches him. 

"Fine, whatever," Tommy says as he's sat in the chair next to Evan. To make things better/worse (because Evan's so fucking squirmy), their chairs are put back to back so they can be tied together, too. "Oh, we're going full Last Crusade, are we, Howie?" Tommy has to grunt because Athena ties a really, really good knot and again: he wishes he knew less. 

"If you had answered your phone," Bobby says coolly. "If you had bubbled less and texted more—"

Tommy whips his head around and smashes his skull right into Evan's. "Goddamn—you saw that? Why didn't you text, if you were just sitting there watching me type?"

Evan struggles against everything keeping them together, then finally says, "Because you left and you didn't want me! If you wanted me, you would have called! And now we're—" One more hard thrash that gets Tommy in the shoulder. "Kidnapped and this is your fault."

"It's my fault? You wanted me to give up—"

"No I didn't! I said something dumb and you walked out before—"

"No, no, no, we can talk later," Eddie says. "It's time for Buckley-Kinard Family Feud."

Tommy and Evan turn their heads at the same time. "The hell are you talking about?" Tommy asks. 

"It's time to draft your teams," Hen announces. "I'm hosting, so I'm removing myself from the pool."

"This isn't fair! It's Buck's family—"

"You didn't just call me that in front of everyone," Evan hisses. 

"It's Buck's family against me, I don't have anyone—"

"I'm drafting myself," Howie announces. "Buck, your turn."

"Fine, I pick Maddie," Evan replies.

"Don't sound too thrilled," she replies. 

"Your next pick?" Hen asks Tommy.

"I told you, I don't—"

Bobby comes over to his side.

"You're insane," Tommy says. 

"That's not fair!" Evan yells.

"I met him first, Buck," Bobby says placidly. 

"Yeah, but—ugh, fine, then I pick Athena." Evan turns his head and bumps into Tommy's again. "You better not pick Eddie."

"I'm picking Karen," Tommy says. "She's my friend who's a lesbian—"

He can feel Evan tense against his back, probably out of frustration and a deep, deep desire to slam his skull into Tommy's again. He doesn't know how Evan resists.

"I've been bisexual for like, nine months, could you cut me some slack?" Evan asks.

"You spent an entire afternoon reading me articles and watching videos about the three-body problem and you couldn't fucking bother—"

"Because then I'd know," Evan yells. "I'd know that you and me were too good to be true, and I'd know that it was just temporary, and I'd know that you can't live your whole life one way and suddenly a guy kisses you and everything, everything is different, and your life's completely changed! I'd find something that would tell me it can't happen, it's probably not real, and then I'd realize I was wasting your time because I can never really change. If I looked at us too hard, I'd know it was just—"

Tommy's so overwhelmed, his chest so tight, that all he can manage to say is: "Yeah, it's called biphobia, and if you had asked, I don't know, one of the three gay people in your life—"

"I didn't know what to ask, Tommy! Fuck!" Evan tries to struggle out of their bindings again, but then he stops. "Apologize to me for being such a dick about this." 

The room is tense and quiet, eerily quiet, until Tommy finally says, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? You're right and I'll stop throwing that at you. It's really unfair. It's unfair of me and unfair of, I don't know, the whole world, that made you think this could never be for you."

"That you could be it for me," Evan corrects.

"Sure, whatever." Tommy's voice is nowhere near as light and bitchy as he meant that to sound. "So are we gonna play this game or what? Now that we've got some teams of dubious quality?"

Bobby takes a seat at what is now, apparently, the Team Tommy table. "I know you like fresh pasta because then you can have soft pasta and no one will call you a heretic for not liking it al dente." 

"That's psychotic," Tommy says. "And no one cooks it true al dente, it's always just barely cooked and I shouldn't have to chomp on pasta like a horse to enjoy it!"

Evan says, "And all of you said I was the weird one and he was the normal one."

"Literally no one said that, Buck," Eddie says. "You're both absurd, that's why you're perfect for each other."

"Well," Evan says, "I know you were thinking it."

"You were thinking it, and sometimes thoughts have to make it out of your mouth for people to hear them," Tommy snaps.

The entire room bursts into an uproar and Tommy tries to struggle out of his chair again. "Fine, fine, I'm a huge hypocrite, can I get a point for admitting it!" 

"Yes, just one," Hen says. "Alright, gather up, teams. Bobby and Maddie, you're up first."

"This is a nightmare, this is a nightmare," Tommy whispers to himself. "I crashed my helicopter and this is hell."

"Hey, Mr. Keeping Your Thoughts Inside, we can't hear the question," Howie says.

"You're on my team, you have to be nice to me!"

Howie dramatically pops his piece of gum and says nothing.

"This first question is in the category of fashion," Hen reads off her phone. The TV over the bar has turned on to show a Family Feud style board with four options and Tommy can't believe his vision of hell is this detailed. It's impressive. "Name one novelty apron belonging to either Buck or Tommy."

Bobby slams his hand on the buzzer that someone brought for the occasion. "Tommy has one that says Warning: Fowl Language and it has a rooster on it." Bobby points at Tommy and says, "Sal gave it to you for your fake birthday, which is June 13, but your real birthday is in November."

The room is quiet again.

"You had a fake birthday?" Evan asks.

Tommy looks up at the ceiling. This means that he and Evan's heads are touching and he can't help but lean into it a little. He doesn't go any further, though. "Did I mention I'm like… that there's a lot of things wrong with me?"

"Yeah, these are really struggling to stay in the quirks category," Karen says. "But hell yes, one point! Let's go, Bobby!"

Bobby rejoins the team and Hen strolls down to their side of the room. "Now, Karen: can you name another apron that Tommy owns?"

Karen winces. "Okay, this can be any apron?"

"Any apron," Hen agrees.

"Alright, then I'm gonna say… a plain, utilitarian grey apron that he wears because he doesn't want to use the nice ones." 

Hen says, "Show me boring!"

The word charcoal appears on the board with a (2) next to it.

"Two charcoal ones?" Maddie asks. "Tommy, love yourself."

"Yeah, I think that's the point here and I hate it," Tommy replies.

"Alright, Chim," Hen says. "Name another apron in Tommy's kitchen."

"I think we all saw Buck's lockscreen this summer," Howie says. "Tommy in a sleeveless shirt with a black apron that said Flippin' Awesome and had two spatulas crossed on the front."

"Show me spatulas!" Hen calls out. Another point. 

"Cheap shot," Tommy says. "Evan gave me that, of course you knew that."

"Hey, genius, how do you think people learn things about each other?" Howie asks. "Hen, take it away." 

"Alright, Team Buck," Hen says, wandering over to Maddie. "Name an apron you can find in Buck's kitchen." She turns her head and says, "And don't think we didn't notice he's Evan again."

Tommy turns his head away and whispers to Evan, "Can you make them stop? Please?"

"Sorry, do you think I wanted to be tied and handcuffed to you tonight?" A beat. "Okay, that's not—whatever, I'm suffering here, too."

"Are you?"

Evan huffs. "I'm tired of chasing after people who don't want me, and you don't want me." 

Tommy stays quiet as Team Buck racks up bonus points for Evan's punny apron collection. 

"I thought you'd call or text, or come over," Evan says, voice quieter. "You said, no matter how bad I want to be, so I thought… I don't know. I waited, Tommy. That didn't feel like the end. And you never answered my voicemails, so."

"I haven't checked my voicemail in five months," Tommy admits. "I saw you left a couple the week after and I just—I couldn't. I knew I'd—I'd press play and before you'd even said Hey I would be in my truck on my way to you."

"And would that have been so bad?"

Tommy drops his head down. "I wanted a clean break so we could both walk away." 

"Tommy," Evan whispers. "No matter how bad you want that to be true… it's not."

Tommy nods to himself. "I'm sorry."

"I should have come after you," Evan says. "I should have broken down your door or, I don't know, hung onto your helicopter like Captain America."

"Yeah, good luck," Tommy laughs. 

Between them, Evan's fingertips reach for Tommy's. They cling the best they can, and Tommy—he clings back. 

"Do you mean it or do you just want to get away from everyone?" Evan asks.

"Well, apparently I can't get away from them." Evan laughs dryly, so Tommy clutches his fingers again. "I mean it. Both of those things. If they take the cuffs off, I won't run. Will you?"

Evan laughs. "Only if you'll follow."

"Then we should make a break for it."

"You got it."

---

read on the ao3!

[marrrrss]

A different Valentine's Day?

Hank voight x Daughter! Emma

Angst (?) And fluff

summary: what happens when your boyfriend decides to follow bro code (or whatever) on valentines day?

word count: 1,310 words

authors note: (My mind has been a mess but I think that now I'm back for good.) Happy Valentines! To everyone!

-English is not my first language-

Some people spend Valentine's alone. Some go for dinner by themselves or with friends or, if they're lucky, with a special someone.

Others do long distance.

Others have a fun date.

Others have their boyfriend saying he's going on a boys' night.

As weird as it sounds, that happened to Emma. Asking Jake what he was doing for Valentine's and hearing, "I'm spending the night with my boy Toni because he got cheated on," was NOT what she expected.

Sure, okay, he broke the news over breakfast when Emma asked what they would do tonight, but hearing a whole speech about bro code? C'mon, seriously?

So what were the plans after work now? Get drunk in a bar? Go back to the apartment and stare at the wall? Overtime? Ugh, wine sounds better.

Parking the car in Voight's street felt weird. She was supposed to be having dinner or on a date with Jake, not sitting in her car, staring at the house she grew up in, questioning what the hell was happening.

Getting out of the car, closing the door with a bit too much force, she walked toward the front door of the house—the all-too-familiar house.

As she approached the door, she noticed the living room lights were on. Well, at least she hadn't come here for nothing.

She didn't even bother knocking. He gave her an extra key for a reason. Well... more like emergencies, but this counted.

As soon as the door opened, Voight looked up from the couch, where he was lying with a case file in hand and a half-empty beer on the coffee table.

"What the heck are you doing here, Em? Weren't you supposed to be out with Jake?" he asked, sitting up and tossing the file on the table as Emma closed the door behind her.

A loud sigh escaped her lips as she stood there, feeling her father's gaze on her. It was the same one he used on suspects and criminals—or on her when she ate candy right before dinner or came home really late after curfew.

"Do I gotta call in some favors?" Hank asked in the most natural tone of voice.

"No. God, no. Tempting... really tempting, but no," Emma said, walking over to the couch and sitting beside him with a sigh, sinking into the cushions. "Jake decided to have a boys' night," she added, her voice low, betraying the confusion, hurt, and everything in between.

Voight's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, what? The same guy who went all out last year for Valentine's?"

Yeah, that guy—the one who gave Emma flowers, cooked her a damn good meal, complete with dessert, and topped it off with an incredible night. The guy who'd been her Valentine and everything else for three years.

"Yeah... that guy," Emma replied coldly. "Jake said he was going to spend the night with Toni because he got cheated on. Literally told me over breakfast when I asked what we were doing tonight. And after he said it, I just stared at him like a complete idiot and said, 'Alright.' Then he goes, 'Alright, good. Talk to you later,' gave me a kiss, and left for work." She ran a hand down her face, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I only realized I had nothing to do when I left work, and then I asked myself, 'What the fuck is happening?' And now here I am."

Voight just stared at her blankly for a moment, processing it all. "I can make some calls to find out where he really is... or whatever you want."

"No, just stop," Emma said, shaking her head. "I'm not going down the rabbit hole of 'he's cheating on me,' not tonight at least. I just... I don't even know why I came here." Her gaze dropped to the coffee table as though it held all the answers.

"Don't move," Hank said, getting up and disappearing into the house.

"Stupid," she muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes. How the hell had the guy who went all out last year turned into someone who'd rather spend Valentine's talking about bro code? Almost three years for this? Jake had moved into Emma's apartment, for crying out loud.

She was still spiraling when Voight returned with a brand-new bottle of bourbon and two glasses.

Her eyes narrowed. "Isn't that the special-occasion bottle?"

"Special occasion. You looking like a lost puppy? Same thing," he said with a small smile, opening the bottle and pouring generous amounts into both glasses. "Seriously, if you want me to scare the shit out of Jake, I can make a call."

Emma took a long sip before turning to him. "As tempting as it sounds—again, no." She wanted to say yes, but she knew it would make things worse.

"The offer stands, kid."

Emma swirled the bourbon in her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light as she let out another long, heavy sigh. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, hurt, and anger—all mixing together like a storm she couldn't calm.

"I don't know, Dad. I just... I never thought he'd pull something like this." She glanced over at Hank, his steady gaze unwavering, trying to understand. "I mean, we’ve been together for three years. I thought we had a... connection. I thought we were stronger than whatever this is."

Voight leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms. His eyes softened, but his voice was firm. "Kid, sometimes people do things you don’t expect. Doesn’t make it right, but it happens. You just gotta figure out what you’re gonna do with it." He took a sip of his own bourbon, his face hardening slightly. "Jake needs to know that what he did was a low blow, but it's on you how you handle it. No one can make that decision for you."

Emma stared at the glass in her hand, the warmth of the alcohol doing little to ease the chill settling deep inside her. "I don’t even know what to say to him. He just... dropped it on me like it was nothing. Like I didn’t even matter."

Hank’s expression softened again. "People screw up. Doesn’t mean they don’t care, even if they don’t show it right. You gotta decide if you still care enough to figure it out. If not, that’s on him."

She gave a slight nod, taking another sip. "I just don’t know if I can trust him right now. And I don’t want to be someone's backup plan when they’re done feeling sorry for themselves."

"Then don’t be," Voight replied, his voice steady but with that familiar edge that made Emma pay attention. "You don't owe him anything if he's not showing you respect. But whatever you decide, it’s gotta be for you. Not because of what anyone else says or does."

Emma leaned back into the couch, trying to process it all. Her mind was still spinning, but Hank’s words were starting to sink in. She couldn’t let this define her or make her feel small. She had to take control of her own happiness again.

After a long silence, Hank spoke again, his voice lighter now. "You’re always welcome here, Em. No matter what happens with Jake or anyone else. This house is still your home."

"Thanks, Dad," she murmured, the weight of it all pressing down on her. "I just... need time to think. And figure out what the hell comes next."

"Take all the time you need. You know where to find me," he said with a small smile, raising his glass in a quiet toast to her.

Emma clinked her glass against his and took another sip, feeling just a little bit more grounded. Whatever happened with Jake, she knew her father had her back.

That was something she didn’t need to question.

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed during the press conference on media day [part 1/2], brazil - october 31, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "Why don't we start with the honorary citizen of Brazil? Lewis, you're back in a country you love, at a circuit you love, where you've had a lot of success in the past. Just how excited are you, ahead of this grand prix?" Lewis: "Good afternoon, everyone. I love coming here. I've been really excited about the trip and just getting back. Every opportunity I have to spend time here, you learn more about the culture, you are able to engage more. I know the Senna Foundation did an amazing event last night, with all the great work that they're doing. And it's just the colors, it's Ayrton, it's the culture, the people. So you really vibe off that through the whole weekend." Interviewer: "Lewis, you say it's Ayrton. There's a very special thng happening on Saturay evening here. You're gonna be driving his 1990 McLaren. How special is it for you to commemorate him here at Interlagos?" Lewis: "Well, I mean, every time we come here is an opportunity to do that, and I think so many of the drivers also do that. But I never in a million years thought I would get to drive Sanna's car here, so when… I remember someone contacted me… My manager told me about it, and I jumped at the opportunity. Back in the day when I was at McLaren I did get the chance to drive the MP4/4 around Silverstone, which was incredble, and… But just the thought of driving that car around here… I remember the races when he finally won here and held the flag, and yeah, it'll definitely be quite an emotional experience, and I hope people are here to see it. I had a helmet made with… Just his helmet, made for me, but I don't know if we're using that one tomorrow. But I think the initial hope was for it to be a suprrise. So I had an all-white suit and his helmet, and I'd go out and drive the lap and it would just look like it was him out there. But somehow it got out there and [laughs] it's impossible to keep things quiet." Interviewer: "Lewis, it's a manual gearbox. How's your heel-and-toe-ing these days?" Lewis: "I'm always heel-and-toe-ing, so… [laughs] No, it used to be really good when I was younger, and when I did the MP4/4 I was able to do it back then. Something I miss. I wish we had that in Formula 1. I mean, the two-pedal thing is just not exciting, and they need to bring back the HBOX. It was awesome." Interviewer: "Look, let's bring it back to Mercdes now, what's happening this weekend - a sprint weekend. It was the best combined performance for the team since the summer break, last weekend in Mexico. Just how confident are you of getting a good performance here?" Lewis: "'Confident.' I mean, it's been a very turbulent year. I think we always arrive with confidence and with a positive mental attitude, but the car is just… I don't know how… I'm sure it's similar for the other drivers, but there's glimpses of hope, and then things swing back and forth-whether it's tires, whether it's the aero-so you enver know what you're gonna get. I always feel like Forrest Gump when I say that. But then yeah, I'm hoping the car… The last race was really positive for us, in terms of the end result, but through the weekend was definitely… George's crash during the weekend, and then I started with a bad start of the race but then got better towards the end. So there's definitely potential within the car and we're always looking to just fine-tune it and hope we can extract more from it, and I'm hoping with the new surface here maybe we can have a better race."

[someonesrealityshifting]

.・✭・. Life Explanation .・✭・. ・

✭ My life is like a 2010s coming of age novel, but one of the ones with a shitty ending, like Before I Fall. Except it doesn't have a shitty ending, you just worry it might. My life is dancing in the rain and forgetting a coat and ending up with a cough but not caring because I was dancing with him. My life is climbing into abandoned buildings and befriending the rats who live there, leaving them food and telling them how pretty they are. My life is finding roadkill and bringing it home to pray for it and to send it to Thanatos gently, as he would want it.

✭ My life is making stupid decisions because I never got to as a kid. My life is smoking cheap cigarettes and coughing so hard I vow to quit, only to come back six hours later when he pulls out his lighter. My life is drawing on myself and loving it so much I go get it tattooed that day. My life is incohesive playlists and rants about movies and bugs I love. My life is collecting rainwater and rocks and bones I find, pressing flowers and leaves between the pages of limited edition books.

✭ My life is collecting soda pop tabs and butterfly wings and walnut shells because I can. My life is crying over the dead things I find and mourning them, giving even the worm I find on the sidewalk as it pours the simple respect of life. My life is constantly defending my position as an ambiamorous gay trans man as well as a leftist, an anarchist, quite possibly a communist, because my idea that all living things have inherent worth is apparently 'radical'.

✭ My life is tiny jars and using watercolor on canvas even though you're absolutely not supposed to use watercolor on canvas. My life is painting my nails outside because I don't want to risk my dog inhaling the fumes and feeding my gecko by hand because he's a diva but I also can't touch him because it frightens him. My life is car rides to vibe-based playlists, sticking my arms out the window and screaming when I see a puppy in the next car.

✭ My life is loving, endlessly and without remorse. Giving my love to anyone who will take it, accept it, regardless of whether or not it's reflected back at me, because if one can hate without cause, why can I, too, not love the same way? My life is shamelessly blocking and cutting off toxic people because I'm worth more, because the people I love are worth more.

✭ My life is holding a cat like a baby, because I'm a bit too fucked up to have a real one, and dancing around the house with it, telling it how much I love it as shitty music blares from the phone in my pocket. My life is putting stickers on my canes and headphones and every electronic device I have because they deserve to feel pretty, too. My life is putting too many layers of dye in my hair and not caring because it makes me feel better. My life is asking "would you still love me if I was a worm?" a thousand times and never getting bored of the answers.

✭ My life is keeping Loki's altar in my kitchen because it's never not chaotic as all hell in there, even if the odd assortment of things he likes is a bit of an eyesore; that's where he belongs. My life is keeping Christmas lights up all the year round because they're pretty and I love them. My life is finding a spot where I can see the sky without light pollution and staring at the stars for as long as I can, even though I know so very few of them, just because they're beautiful and I can. My life is getting a shitty camera from, like, 2015 because it's cheap and it has decent exposure, and even though the pictures always come out a little blurry, I pin them to the wall over our bed anyway.

✭ My life is writing poetry on every available surface, buying a shit ton of notebooks in August when they're 25 cents each and them all being full by March. My life is texting him "this song reminded me of you" at 3am when I know we should be asleep but neither of us are. My life is freaking out anytime I see a cat, because fucking look at him, he's such a cutie, aaa he booped meeee. My life is listening to Taylor Swift because they like it, and because I'd do anything to make them smile, even if I think "Antihero" is the single stupidest song I've ever heard in my life.

✭ My life is the word 'paladin', which is not only my dad's favorite WOW class, but it's my mom's favorite episode of bones. "Paladin" means, "I will always protect you. I will not choose violence for myself, because I can keep myself safe enough, but I would burn the world for you, because I love you, and I will hurt anyone, even myself, to keep you safe." My life is my parents telling me at age 9 that to love a hero was to hate one's self. That a hero would sacrifice you to save the world, that a villain had no such obligation. To always love the villain, the person most likely to hurt everyone but you.

✭ My life is painting on a 60 year old denim jacket and having no idea how to get the paint off so I just take a razor to the paint to get it a bit thinner and then saving up money so I can buy a Vincian flag to hide the marks it left behind. My life is having a bunch of scars from stupid things, and being proud to share each misadventure, because they define me, because I let them. My life is wishing I wasn't clean until I meet him and them and maybe deciding that I prefer having marks from love than self loathing.

✭ My life is waking up with my legs tangled in theirs only to get up before they do, going to make us shitty coffee because it's the only kind I know how to make, but they drink it anyway because I also make French toast so it's palatable. My life is house plants that I take care of exquisitely for years only to leave them in his care for a week and find them to be on the verge of death. My life is eating too much chocolate and dragging them both into the living room to build a pillow fort and watch Bluey for 6 hours on a random Friday night.

✭ My life is thrift shopping and buying shit I know I'll never use, simply because I can afford it, and because I love it, and because I can. My life is gardening all of spring and summer and never leaving the woods in autumn and shoveling until my knees buckle in winter. My life is learning how to swim in a creek because I don't trust anyone but the two of them to teach me.

✭ My life is love. My life is light. My life is making myself feel whole, and being able to give myself to the people who love me and the people whom I love. My life is happy, and warm, and safe. My life is starlight and wholesome until it's dark moons and dirty jokes, and even then, the sun comes back the next morning, and so do the gentle kisses and caresses. My life is safety and comfort and value, inherent and known, in every person I come across.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Maybe something spooky for September?

Like... Genuine fear.

Caine makes a new adventure for the gang, but it ends up taking in things that are... Just too real...

P.s: Showtime?

-that one paper bird

A/N: spooky season is upon us! Special thanks to @13piecebucket for helping me brainstorm this!!

NIGHTMARE'S END

A DIGITAL CIRCUS ONESHOT

WARNING: body horror, swearing,

~~~

"Welcome back, adventurers!" Caine hovered over the Circus cast. "Hope you had fun today!"

The group looked amongst themselves with collective disinterest. Pomni spoke up. "Actually, Caine, this one was a bit...meh."

Caine was visibly taken aback.

"Yeah, we got bored more than half way through." Jax agreed. "The cartoon physics and faceless NPCs are a bit old hat at this point."

"What he means is we think more realism would suit the adventures better." Pomni corrected. "The immersion still isn't that immersive."

"Doesn't help that we all look like cartoon characters." Gangle quietly added.

Caine rapped his fingers against the shaft of his cane. "Very well. If realism is what you want, then realism is what you'll get. At least, to the best of my ability. Rest up! Tomorrow will be a big one!" He blips away.

"You three should be ashamed of yourselves." Ragatha scolded. "I'm sure he's already doing all he can."

"I don't really care, I was just going along with Pomni." Jax put his hands in his pockets and walked away.

"Hey!" Pomni stomped her foot. "It was ZOOBLE'S idea we say something!"

"Don't drag me into this. I just said the adventure was stupid. All of them are." Zooble said as they walked away.

Pomni groaned. "Whatever. Guess we'll have a real adventure tomorrow. See how that turns out." She went to bed almost immediately, sleep called to her like never before. Her one escape from this digital nightmare.

~

Pomni woke to the smell of smoke. She winced as she sat up on a hard, uncomfortable surface. She blinked, finding herself in a small, dark room that has no familiar shapes. "Huh...? Why am I not in my-!!" She gaped at the sight of a smoldering computer atop a desk next to her.

Pomni stood to get a closer look. The electronic remains glowed faintly in the only light source in the room, a street lamp coming through a half shaded window. She jumped when she heard shuffling behind her.

Five figures of varying size stand up from the floor, the voices familiar. "Ugh, my head." "Where are we?" "Why is it so dark?"

"Guys?" Pomni asked. "What's happening? OH MY GOSH!" She pointed at a tall man with blond hair, staring right at her. The man turned to see what Pomni was pointing at.

"What? What is it?"

"Kinger?" Pomni couldn't believe it. She looked at the other people in the room. Humans. All of them. She looked at her own hands. Human hands with five fingers splayed out in front of her. "We're...we- no, this isn't possible. I'm dreaming! I have to be. I fell asleep and woke up here! I-"

Pomni froze when an androgenous person with pink hair slapped her across the face. "Did that feel real?"

Pomni felt her face. "OW! That was uncalled for! I really felt that. Oh my god." She looked back at the destroyed computer. "Caine...he must of blown all the hardware trying to make the game more real. I didn't think he'd... oh no."

"WHO CARES! WE'RE OUT!!" Celebrate a young man with a huge grin.

"Are we really sure? Really really?" A woman with red curls asked.

"Fuck if I know." The person with pink hair stopped and seemed stunned by they're own ability to curse. "Holy shit." They gasped, a huge smile growing on their face. "ASS! TITS! DICK! CUNT! SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER!"

"Do you really need to shout?" A timid woman asked, covering her ears.

"YES, I DO! WE'RE OUT!!"

~

The six made their way out of the empty office building. Cool night air grazed their faces as they took in their surroundings. They were in a town. A real town with streetlights and parked cars and a distant blinking traffic light. The street was lined with closed businesses. Not another soul in sight.

"What time do you think it is?" The timid woman asked.

"There!" The woman with red curls pointed at a scrolling LED sign in front of a bank. "3:00 am. No wonder things are so quiet. What do we do now? It's been so long... I don't even remember where we are."

"I guess we walk until we find somebody." Pomni shrugged. "There's gotta be at least a cop or something out at this hour."

"Oh yeah, and what do we tell them? Help, police! We've been kidnapped by a sentient AI and we just got away! Yeah, I bet that'll go over real well." The young man with the wide grin snarked.

"They could at least help us get out bearings." Pomni said.

They walked past quiet buildings, feeling a bit out of place on the empty street. Eventually, finding a sign that said Welcome to Brook Haven, the loveliest place in Maine.

"Well, that's a start." Said the woman with the curls. "Do you remember much about Maine, Pomni?"

"I don't think so, but I'm sure if we keep looking, we'll find someone who does. And, you don't have to keep calling me Pomni. My name is...my name..."

Everyone stopped.

Pomni's eyes widened as she searched her head. "I don't remember...I should remember. Right? Do any of you remember??"

"Oh no! You don't think the mind wipe was permanent, do you??" Panicked the timid woman.

"I don't know!" Pomni clutched her head and started to pace. She faced a store window and her blood went cold. Before her wasn't the reflection of a human woman, but of a cartoonish jester staring wide eyed at her. Pomni could feel the air in her lungs cease. "We're still in the game."

The shrill scream of a siren tore through the night. Everyone covered their ears, but they could still feel the siren vibrating their very beings. A billowing thick grey fog rolled into the streets. It cloaked everything from sight, the town being swallowed whole.

The group backed up against one another, being surrounded by the intense fog. Pomni was back to back with the tall blonde man, but she nearly fell backwards when he was violently pulled into the mist. "Kinger!"

Next was Ragatha. Something in the mist grabbed her leg and she was dragged off screaming. Then Gangle. Then Zooble.

"Screw this!" Jax ran off in a random direction, but didn't get far before he too screamed bloody murder.

Pomni was left alone in the quickly shrinking pocket of visibility. Her heart pounded. The only place left to go was the store behind her. She tried the door. Locked. She banged on the window. It held firm.

Clicking and skittering came from the fog. Creatures beyond her sight and comprehension were moving about, taunting her. A thorned tentacle whipped out at Pomni, but she ducked and it smashed through the store window.

Thinking quickly, Pomni vaulted through the broken window and made a run for it. Creatures screeching and crashing through the building behind her as fog poured in.

As she ran through a back door and down an alley, she saw a leas pipe sticking out of a dumpster. She grabbed it and kept running.

A clawed hand dug into the ground next to her and a black creature with colorful eyes lunged at Pomni. She batted at the creature as hard as she could, bursting it's bright pink eye. It screamed and backed away.

Pomni kept running, zig zagging down semi clear streets. Something with wings swooped down at her and she tuck and rolled. The flying abstraction crash landed where she had been. She didn't give it a chance to strike again, she beat it over the head with her pipe until it stopped thrashing.

"What the FUCK is all of this!?" Pomni growled and kept moving as more moving shadows in the mist closed in on her. She needed to get indoors. She ran until a large brick building was in sight. The sign out front read: Town Hall.

Pomni threw herself through the double front doors and slammed them shut behind her. She leaned back against the doors, panting and gasping for air. She was sweating, her legs shook with fatigue. She still felt real, even if she knew the truth.

"You're still alive. Good." Caine's voice echoed through the building.

"CAINE!? CAINE, YOU BASTARD! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE OTHERS!!"

"Such language. And you all wonder why the censor is so necessary. You can't control your tongues."

"WHERE ARE THE OTHERS??" Pomni screamed as she marched down the hall, following the source of Caine's voice down one hall and then the next.

"Let's not worry about them. You're the only one who made it this far. The rest have failed."

"Failed? YOU DON'T FAIL AN ADVENTURE!"

"In a realistic one, you do. In real life, there are clear cut winners and losers. Tell me, which one are you?"

Pomni could hear the grin in his condescending tone. "Whichever gets this over with." She gripped her pipe harder.

Caine's laughter filled the halls. "A winner, then? That remains to be seen."

Pomni followed the voice to a set of grand wood doors. A Mayor's Office plague on the wall. She kicked open the doors, ready to swing. There were no monsters, no mist. Caine was at the end of the large room by the desk. His back was to her, looking out the large windows. "Beautiful, isn't it? Dare I say, this town has been my greatest creation."

"You lied! You made us believe we were out! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" Pomni shouted as she marched forward.

"Lied?" Caine turned towards Pomni. "I gave you exactly what you wanted. Realism. I made it so real, I even found a purpose for the old exit." He chuckled. "It was amusing seeing all of you celebrate. Shame the fun had to be spoiled." His body jerked as he stepped forward.

Pomni stopped, holding her pipe in front of her. She watched in horror as Caine's chest started to split apart, black teeth folding out at her. His arms lengthened and bent at unnatural angles. "What- what's happening?"

"The most realistic part..." His voice deepened and garbled. "Fear." His eyes split apart and changed colors. His suit tore and his spin jutted out with spikes. Her grew and grew in height, his teeth growing sharp and his jaw extended to the ceiling. Multiple arms broke the floor apart as he approached. "Are...you...afraid?"

Pomni brought the pipe back like a bat. "Terrified. But I'm still going to kick your ass." She charged without hesitation, war in her eyes. Caine's monstrous form bared down on her. She struck out at the eye in the center of his gaping jaw.

The pipe's collision creates a spark bright enough to blind Pomni. The whole room goes white. She feels weightless, like she was in the void again. Then, in a near instant, she fell on her back. When the light fades, she's back in the Circus. The obnoxiously saturated bright colors sting her eyes.

Around are the cast members, all in varying states of shock. Zooble stays on the ground, staring at the vaulted ceiling and trembling. Gangle is in hysterics, muttering and whimpering to herself while crying uncontrollably. Kinger is pale and sitting in the fetal position, his eyes wider and more bloodshot than normal. Ragatha is stone cold silent and unmoving, holding her head in her hands.

Jax Is the only one other than Pomni to get to his feet. "That wasn't so- bleeeeegh!" He doubles over and vomits.

Pomni stares at her gloved hands, already missing her realistic skin. A slow clap gets her attention. She turns to see Caine hovering, lowering himself to her level.

"Well done, Pomni. Well done, indeed. You are today's winner. Being the only one to successfully find and defeat me. You faced fear and conquered it. How's that for realism?"

"Wait... If at least one of us had to find and defeat you... What if none of us did?" Pomni asked.

Caine smiled and shrugged. "Guess we'll never know. So, 1-10?"

The cast stayed where they were, unresponsive. Pomni smiled at Caine. "Ten. Solid ten. That was the biggest thrill I've had yet."

"Yet." Caine's grin widened.

~~~

HAPPY SPOOKY SEASON, EVERYONE! 🎃💀🔮🕷️🦇

[voluptuarian]

How to Eat From the Food Bank/Food Pantry

I've seen a number of posts recently encouraging people to utilize their local food banks if they're struggling financially, as well as providing some basics on how one would go about doing that. I've been relying on the food bank myself for about six months now, and it's been very helpful. However, as somebody who was pretty new to cooking and was mostly using pre-made dishes when I did, when I first started going I found the food I was getting completely antithetical to how I cooked and ate and struggled to figure out how to utilize what I was getting. I'm sure I'm not the only person in this position, so I thought I would share the strategies I've learned for making the most of food bank offerings, and the best and most affordable dishes I've found to make with them!

What To Expect/What You'll Need

Food banks tend to cater to families, assume you know how to cook, and expect you to own kitchenware and have pantry space. So if you don't have them already, go to goodwill and get like a 13x9 cake pan, basic soup and frying pan, a stock pot, and a decent size mixing bowl for your own good. (You can get them like one per paycheck if you need to, or even ask friends and family if they have extras, but you Will need them.) You'll also want some cooking utensils, like ladles, spatulas, and decent knives. And God help you if you don't have much pantry space, because every flat surface in your house is now going to be covered in food cans and your crisper drawer will not be enough to hold all the fruit and veg you'll be inundated with. (Sadly, at least where I am, they don't give out milk and that's like a basic ingredient for a lot of the food they're actually giving you, so idk what's up with that.) They usually also assume you have a car, and if you're like me and don't, absolutely bring your own bags because they probably will not have any, reusable shopping bags are perfect for this. Bring more of them than you think you'll need.

Foods you will likely get at a food bank

produce (I frequently get potatoes, onions, oranges, carrots, squash, melons, lettuce, cabbage, green onions, salad mixes, tomatoes, zucchini, cucumbers, and so. many. apples. It's especially abundant during the summer and fall, when people will donate extra produce from their gardens and fruit trees. Good luck finding places to store all that, though.)

boxed macaroni and cheese

dried beans

dried pasta

bagged nuts

bagged rice

canned food (canned spaghetti/ravioli, applesauce, various canned vegetables, and many varieties of beans-- I've most frequently gotten pinto, kidney, navy, and black beans.)

a protein option (at my local one they usually offer a choice between eggs or an egg substitute and some kind of frozen meat, like fish sticks or breaded chicken.)

Foods I recommend you regularly buy yourself if they're not providing (most of which will be used in at least one of these recipes)

cheese (esp shredded)

milk

salt, pepper, and dried spices/herbs (these are not too expensive generally, if you buy them like a week at a time you can get a nice collection in not too long, and if it comes to that they are very easy to steal, but sometimes food banks will give them away as well.)

butter

cooking oil (olive oil is used in multiple recipes I'm sharing here, so that's what I'd recommend-- sadly it is spendy.)

garlic (it makes everything better, honestly, and it will last a long time in your cupboard, too.)

marinara/spaghetti sauce or other pasta sauces (now most these place are already giving out cans of sauce, so why bother buying any? Because they exclusively provide only the blandest, most watery, most worthless canned marinara/tomato sauces known to man. Do not bother trying to use these on pasta-- you can use them for other things, though, which I'll get to. But you'll need something to put on all that boxed spaghetti.)

Go-To Dishes for Food Bank Ingredients:

7 Can Soup - I am not exaggerating when I say this is now the staple food in my diet. Thankfully it is tasty, extremely easy to make, makes enough to last for days, gets better the longer it sits in the fridge, and can often be made with just what you get from the food bank. (Also great for popping in a tupperware for a comforting work lunch.) And you can buy the needed ingredients for less than $6 typically, so even if it's a bad week and they don't give you anything you need, this is still a very cheap dish to make. The basic recipe included here uses pinto, kidney, and black beans, plain diced tomatoes and diced tomatoes with chilies, corn, beanless chili, and a cheese of your choice, but you can easily change it up or add ingredients as well.

My way: I add dried spices, usually a little garlic salt, pepper, and a dash of paprika; as for cheese, shredded Mexican blend is my favorite for its smoothness but pepper jack is great too, and I often mix different kinds. I also play around with the beans I use depending on what I get, but also to taste-- using ranch beans instead of one of the standards is especially nice, and gives a richer flavor. (I haven't tried it with dried beans, but if you have bagged and not canned, I'd assume you could get away with substituting one of the the canned options for a dried one, but not more than that or the flavor will be too weak.) If you prefer a brothy-er soup throw one of those aforementioned tasteless-ass canned marinara sauces in with the beans, it adds more liquid without watering anything down. You can easily add a cooked meat in as well, I love throwing sliced kielbasa in when I can get it. And I usually wait until an old batch is getting low, throw a little water into the pot to soften the leftovers up, and then drop a whole new batch of ingredients in with it, it adds the more intense flavors of the older soup into the new batch (and means I don't have to wash the pot out in between.)

Rumbledethumps (Vers. 1, Vers. 2)

This is a baked Scottish comfort food with a great name. I regularly get given cabbage when I go to the food bank and for a long time was like, what can I possibly do with this? I also frequently end up with a lot of potatoes, more than I need. This dish uses up both of those, only requires a few additional ingredients, and is pretty easy to make even if you don't cook. (Also cabbage, onions, and potatoes are pretty inexpensive, too, so if you're missing one that's not prohibitive.) I've included two recipes as examples, but there are lots of variations you can make, and upping or lowering the amount of cheese, throwing in garlic or spices, or adding or forgoing meat makes it easy to still reliably make regardless of what ingredients you have or how much you have to spend on extras. (I would say, if you can add more cheese, do it, but then I am a cheese-loving gal.)

Briam (Vers. 1, Vers. 2)

This Greek dish is just designed to use up produce and I LOVE her for that. Early on I was absolutely bewildered by all the produce I was getting, and constantly struggling to use it up before it went bad, and briam solved all those problems. And it tastes and smells Divine. I even made it for Thanksgiving this year. Cooking know-how needed is minimal, and the prep is the most labor intensive part, then you just throw it all in a cake pan and put it in the stove. In a typical week you will probably get most of the vegetables you need to make this, and may need to buy a couple squash or tomatoes at most, as well as a few fresh herbs, so it's very affordable. And not only decadent, but a really nice break from a lot of the more processed dishes you'll get-- also vegan!

I've included 2 versions, one is a written recipe with photos, the other is a video of someone prepping briam (the first dish in the video), and while it doesn't provided measurements for everything, includes a lot of ingredients that the written recipe doesn't. My own method combines both of these recipes, so I wanted to share both, but also having a video example is nice sometimes, too.

My way: I've prepared dozens of different versions of this since I started making it depending on what veggies I have while generally falling somewhere between both versions, and it's always delicious. The key is to make sure you balance out starchy and watery vegetables-- look at the suggestions in Vers. 1 and try to keep whatever substitutes you make to the same proportions. (Also if you use carrots, wait until they've gotten a little soft and bendy; fresh, hard carrots will take longer to bake than all the other vegetables and won't cook soft in time otherwise.) For flavoring ingredients I rely on garlic, dried thyme, green onion, Italian parsley, fresh dill, and rosemary, preferably fresh if I can afford it. Sadly herbs are expensive, so if you have to pare it down, garlic, parsley, green onion, and fresh dill are all you really need (I can't skip the dill, it's So Important for me.) and use dried herbs to fill it out. I also like to chop up half a regular yellow onion (or several smaller ones) into fairly small pieces as additional flavor layer, then I use a whole red onion diced into big pieces as part of the regular ingredients. I use twice as much salt as the recipe suggests and only about 2.5 1/4 cups olive oil instead of 3, and skip the tomato paste (you won't need it.) I roughly peel my potatoes as well as any cucumber or zucchini (I tend to find it a bit bitter if I don't). I also like to cut up all my large veggies and throw them in a large mixing bowl, then dice up all my fresh herbs into a smaller bowl, where I combine them with the salt, garlic, and dried herbs, and 1/4 cup of olive oil; then I pour the herb bowl into the veggies, mix them well so everything is evenly covered with flavorings and oil, then dump that into the baking pan, and then add the rest of the oil and water. (I like to get the last of the herbs and spices out by pouring one of the 1/4 cups of water into the little bowl first to rinse it, and then dumping that into the cake pan.)

Adasi (Persian Lentil Soup)

Haven't made this yet because I still haven't bought mint or turmeric, but it looks easy and delicious, plus it's not uncommon to get bags of dried lentils from the food bank, they last a long time, and they're not that expensive to buy either. It's also another vegan option! Also this is one of the few lentil soup recipes (and soup recipes period) that didn't involve blending it afterwards-- I do not have a blender or a food processor, as many people don't I'm sure, and certainly don't have the funds to buy one just to make soup with, so this recipe was a treasure! (Also the instructions say to soak the lentils overnight, but that's not actually necessary-- and you could get away with skipping the parsley or lemon juice, if you needed to.) I feel like this would make a great topping for rice, too.

Hopefully this well help anybody using the food bank to maximize what you're getting, as well as making the jump into real cooking less intimidating for those just starting out. Happy eating!

[problematicsashawaybright]

why do people think taylor swift is gay? /genq

Unfortunately I can't even Narnia blog being asked about Jake Gyllenhaal my way out of this because I seem like the kind of person who would know this, and unfortunately I have a dark and twisted past (ex swiftie) so I do know exactly why.

(disclaimer: I am not a swiftie anymore, I do not support most of her current actions, I am an adult with a job and don't care if she's gay or not, but unfortunately the thing you fixated on at 14 years old does stick with you and I have this information in my brain forever)

Okay so going off of most to least referenced evidence that is confirmed to have happened and is not a theory

1. VERY reoccurring theme in all of her music of having to hide a huge part of your identity because the world will never understand and you will be ostracized if anyone finds out (she's never mentioned what exactly it is) which feels strange considering her public image is a cishet white woman who's mostly only publicly dated cishet white men. This goes along with reoccurring themes of being in love with your best friend and lying to the world.

2. VERY intense "girl best friend" relationships with at least two women who also have had gay rumors surrounding them. The first with Dianna Agron, which ended abruptly. She wrote the song "wonderland" which is supposably about Harry styles (which in my opinion was 100% a PR relationship regardless of anyone's sexuality), which explores themes of finding a true love that isn't like anything you've ever experienced before, but you need to keep it hidden because no one will ever understand (once again, her relationship with Harry Styles was VERY very very public and everyone knew about it and no one cared)

2. The second, even more intense one, was with Karlie Kloss, a victoria's secret model. They met at the 2013 victorias's secret fashion show where Taylor performed, and they were inseparable for years. Taylor took a break from dating publicly during this time as the 1989 era started, but she and Karlie were VERY close. They posted each other constantly, they talked about each other constantly, they did photoshoots, they did interviews, etc. Despite taking a break from dating, all of her music around this time was about finding yourself, being in love with your best friend, and (you guessed it) hiding from the media. There are countless photos of them holding hands, cuddling, and even of Taylor having a hicky on her that she was trying to hide after leaving a three day sleepover at Karlie's house. In 2014, they took The road trip to big sur, in which she 1. Used a lyric from one of the most romance themed songs on the album as an Instagram caption, and then eventually changed it when they had their falling out and 2. Posted the photo of a daisy on the car dashboard with Karlie tagged, and then most of her love songs about a secret love from then on either referenced daisies, or had daisy imagery in her music videos and performances. In late 2014, they went to a 1975 concert in a private VIP area where they thought no one was filming them, but paparazzi videos surfaced. The videos were grainy and hard to see exactly because it was 2014 and taken at a dark concert from far away, but they're dancing and grinding against each other, and then it SEEMS like they MAY have kissed or even made out. After this leaked to the press, they were seen together less and less until they just stopped mentioning each other entirely, and Karlie Kloss got married (to a man)

3. That one era in 2019 where gay pride became like. Her entire brand. She made an entire song and music video about homophobia, advocated for gay rights, donated and told others to donate to gay organizations, was set to perform at a pride festival, wore rainbows to performances, and literally spoke the words "gay pride is what makes me, me". The theory is that she was kind of testing the waters and maybe planning on saying something about her own identity, but in 2019, all of her music she made since she was 15/16 got sold by her old label to the worst possible person, and she got scared, and then covid happened, so the concert for that album (loverfest) got canceled.

4. Multiple people close to her have implied that she may have had relationships with women. Including her best friend and producer who she's worked with for years accidentally calling her a gay woman in an interview, and then panicking and walking it WAY back when the interviewer asked him if she's gay. Another time was her ex boyfriend from I believe 2016/2017 calling her the D slur, and then implying that he was her beard. She referenced being called a slur and this whole situation in her 2022 album midnights.

5. This isn't solid concrete evidence, but it haunts me. Whenever there was a significant date related to Karlie Kloss on the 2023-2024 eras tour, she played her saddest and angriest songs about a lost relationship. Like too many times to be a coincidence. It happened on her birthday. It happened on her wedding anniversary. It happened when Karlie Kloss was literally in the audience for one of the LA shows in 2023. She doesn't choose the surprise songs in advance, and people from her crew have even said that she changed the songs the night she realized Karlie was there (who, btw, bought her own ticket and sat in the nosebleeds after flying across the country less than a month after giving birth. If she were invited, she would be in the VIP tent. She was literally just in the only available seats in the back of the audience, and was only moved after security realized that she was there)

That's just what I can remember off the top of my head, there's definitely more, but I have to go to class.

[huhwhuhs]

So, I got an idea from @voice-o-fallacy to write a little thing about Melinda's first experiences as a 'human' on the surface :]

A First for Everything

`I wanted to sort of, catalog my thoughts on how all the things on the surface work, and when I asked the person next to me on the long car they call a "bus", they said writing would help. Besides, it'll help me remember how to act like a proper human. :]`

`So, money, it's always about this green paper they call money. I don't understand why they like the green paper so much, but the shiny metal circles I get. "Coins" they're called, I think. You get it by doing really weird chores for people called "jobs", or by selling stuff.`

`I got a good job, it's in this "gym" where humans go to make themselves bigger, a way to ward off predators no doubt. I help clean up, but they mostly just make me stack all the stuff they find heavy. They give me weird looks cause my body is a lot thinner than theirs, but they usually stop when I help them! They get all shocked and stuff, I don't get it, I know the weights are supposed to be heavy, but they aren't that bad? One of them keeps excitedly telling me how much I carried, I think the most recent number was some seven-hundred. It got really easy to lift stuff when I fully learned how human muscles worked instead of eating them.`

`They keep talking about me trying for something called "olympics", but I really don't want to take on another job right now.`

`Sometimes I use money to go to the stores around, it took me a while and a few bodies to learn you had to pay for the things inside. The "grocery" store has a lot of tasty stuff in it! But people look at me weird when I have a basket full of their bakery items, I don't get it.`

`I spend a lot of money at this one place, they sit you down and give you a piece of paper, then ask what you want to eat off of it. Then they just bring the food to you! And it's all cooked nice! I didn't realize vegetables tasted so good until then!`

`It's usually the same woman who serves me, she's super nice! I think she finds me funny. :] I always say hi to her, then order the giant stack of "pan cakes" that they have with all the chocolate inside them. Then I put a bunch of syrup on them, the strawberry one is my favorite. Then I get a bowl of fruit with it!`

`The lady asked me to go to the "cafe", which I later learned was the place they served the really gross bitter liquid at. (She likes it???) I'm supposed to meet her there tomorrow at five, but I didn't hear her say which "m" it is, so I'll just show up at 5a"m" and wait. :]`

`She's got this really nice hair too, I asked her how she got it and she said she was just born with it, but I didn't know hair could be that really light yellow! She said she'd help me get some of my own, and that I could probably have any color I wanted! Yellow is my favorite color so far, but I also wanna try out green! Or pink!`

`So yeah, things are good so far. I'm hoping they stay that way. :]`

[daemongal]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @beheldandcompelled, thank you!!

Anyone else who wants to join, feel free and tag me if you do!

So this is a bit of a snip of a fic that's only really in planning stages, but I wanted to write this scene in particular. The fic will be a multi chapter "what if Tim and Gerry met at the institute" character exploration fic. It will follow canon, and won't be a fix-it, but I really wanted to explore their potential dynamic and get in both their heads a bit!

So this is a snip of a scene following Gerry's run in with Leitener.

Gerry can barely hear the sound of his footsteps hitting the pavement over the pounding of his own heartbeat, but he can feel the jolt of each stride through his entire body.

The adrenaline is near blurring his vision and the lights of each passing car and building are nothing more than streaks of white at the edges of his vision. He can feel his heartbeat pulsing where his knuckles must be raw, but his body was still too numb with chemicals to register it as pain.

He takes a final inhale of the cigarette between his lips before discarding the butt, the hot cinders catching his fingers; he wasn't even sure when he'd lit it.

He clenches and unclenches his fist, fighting back the urge to punch the closest surface to give himself the justification for his cut and bloody knuckles.

Because he didn't want to accept another mark on him with Jürgen Leitener as the cause.

Because it was him, wasn't it?

His mind reels as he remembers the look of terror on the old man's face, the way he fell so quickly to the ground from a single swing of Gerry's arm.

The way he begged so pathetically for mercy after a single kick to the ribs. Mercy that Gerry granted. Mercy that he didn't deserve.

But it couldn't have been him.

Growing up surrounded by monsters had prepared him for the worst. Had prepared him to look a person dead in the eyes and see if their soul was still their own, or if it had been claimed, twisted and corrupted.

Because almost all of them look human at first glance; but they're anything but.

The eyes Gerry locked with, that pleaded back at him, red rimmed and tear filled were anything but those of a monster. The marks were clear on the man—many and faint—but somehow, his soul remained his own.

It can't have been him.

Because if it was, who was he to hate?

His mother, dead and destroyed?

His father, long gone with barely a faint memory?

Himself?

His feet continue to carry him forward as his mind wanders the possibilities and questions he can't face the answers to; realisations he never wanted to have. He knows where he's headed—as much as he'll later deny having any conscious thought on the matter—he knows his destination.

Yet when he reaches the door and his ears begin to register the sound of the traffic surrounding him, when his body slowly returns to him ache by ache, he hesitates.

“God, this is so fucking stupid.” Gerry mutters under his breath, finger ghosting over the buzzer for longer than he'd care to admit.

When he finally presses it, it's for only a split second, and he barely registers the voice from the intercom.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it's Gerry.” He doesn't try to hide the weariness from his voice, not wanting to set an unreasonable precedent about his current mood.

Just send me away. Tell me I'm an idiot for dropping in at the middle of the night unprompted. Please don't ask me why I'm here…

He jolts as he hears the buzz of the door unlocking, recoiling back as if it were going to leap from the hinges and bite him. He pushes it open with his foot, worried it'll click locked again if he hesitates much longer.

With a resounding sigh he steps through the door, taking the stairs and following the corridors until he's outside of Tim's door.

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do I hint at a plot twist without giving it away or confusing the reader? I'm writing a novel about a pair of twins who have the exact same life, and I'm planning to reveal that they are two different people midway through; I just don't know if I can pull it off effectively.

Hinting That One Character is Actually Twins

The key to hinting at a plot twist is to plant clues that are so irrelevant seeming on the surface, the reader will just barely notice them, but will remember them enough that later--once you've made the reveal--they can look back and think of those moments and see how they were hinting at this twist all along.

In a story where one character is actually two different people, and the plot twist is that reveal, it would be super helpful if you can have tertiary characters who cross paths with both and can confuse them. For example Random Character and Twin B go to the same church but don't know each other very well. Random Character "recognizes" Twin A (thinking they're Twin B who goes to their church) and says, "I hope to see you at next week's church fundraiser!" And Twin A smiles awkwardly and is meanwhile very confused on the inside, assuming (rightly) that Random Character has just mistaken them for someone else. Then, at some other point, Twin B might meet Different Random Character at a business luncheon, and Different Random Character says, "I think we met at the Blah Corp golf tournament a few years back," and Twin B says, "No, I don't think so. I've never been to a golf tournament." And Twin B thinks nothing of it--as would the reader--because it's not that uncommon for people to mistakenly think they've met someone before even when they haven't. You could also work in a few other subtle clues, like let's say there are a few notable outfits one twin has to wear... you could always make those outfits red. And then lets say the other twin's car is described, as well as a scene where they paint their house, and let's say the twin's car is blue and they paint their house blue, then maybe someone says, "You sure do like blue!" and they can say, "It's my favorite color!" An astute reader might wonder why their notable outfit colors were red instead of blue, but it wouldn't be enough to tip them off that it's a different character.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

[parachutingkitten]

Okay, this has been bothering me, and I'm gonna go into it, cuz I feel like being mad that the fandom didn't get better is friggin valid, so imma get negative here at some serious missed potential, if that's not your jam, 100% get it, please scroll past.

We have a season with 20 episodes, each of which are 20 minutes long. That is an unprecedented amount of time for a ninjago season- I would argue maybe too much time, but that's not what we're getting into here. Even just the first half is the length of your standard ninjago season back in the day. There is no excuse for not taking your time with ideas that deserve time. You've got time. You've got too much time.

If you're gonna do a mystical mind prison that traps you in your worst fears, you gotta do it! You can't do this wimpy half commit thing you're doing here. What is this cop out that's like three minutes long? This is a top tier trope! Loads of stories do this- for a good reason, it's a great way to get lots of new insight into your characters, not to mention have fun with environments, hypotheticals, bend logic, and do some creative filmmaking. And here you are, inventing a whole weird fictional animal to facilitate your nightmare state, and it legitimately takes up so little screen time that it hurts! What? Did you not have enough to say about your characters to fill out a full subplot? You thinking that surface level about things? Or was the basketball tournament fake out with the dragons so important to the story that you couldn't cut it out for some character introspection?

It's so short and pointless, it doesn't functionally do anything except tell us very directly "Here's what this character fears, and will have to get past this season!" No looking into why or making some progress/losing progress on the issue in the dream state. We don't even get to see everyone's visions, let alone see any interconnectivity between them. It's just such a waste of a classically exciting set up. And why on earth would you place this concept at the beginning of the season? Put it at the turning point man! That's what this scenario is made for! Literalizing characters overcoming mental challenges so that it's interesting to watch! Using the nightmare dream sphere for exposition in the most boring possible version of the trope is just dumbfounding.

I mean seriously? The black void? That's all you've got? You gonna go the Cars 2 route and set our supposedly deep nightmare sequence in a black void? No symbolism to the void even? No distorting of visuals within the void? Nothing? Can you get any more basic? Did you really put that little creativity into this? Like, the whole point of the nightmare dreamscape is to get creative! So much symbolism and messaging that you can easily tie into things! the possibilities are literally endless! But yeah, I guess Arin running in place is pretty meaningful too, I'm sure it took you a while to come up with something so profound.

There's a reason this story beat usually makes up at least half the plot of any given episode it's in! There's so much room to explore. The potential for crosscutting between nightmares is so high, drawing parallels between characters. Maybe they're all interconnected, and the mentally strongest of the team breaks free to help the others in their nightmares. Maybe it's a revelation point for the rest of the team as they see a dark past of another character they didn't know about. Or maybe it's just the audience who gets new insight into a sheltered corner of a character's mind, or a way to reveal to them a dark secret someone is hiding. You can also have fun subverting expectations, maybe one of the nightmares is just objectively pretty funny. And, the best thing about any dream environment you're creating, you can have the characters get involved in insanely creative fights and action scenes where they literally beat up their mental roadblocks with cool looking and symbolically important powers or tools.

Like, I know the fandom is losing their mind over this scene because 'omg Nya's gonna be so sad cuz of the memory loss(that hasn't even been revealed in narrative yet, so the irony doesn't even really work)' but I just need you to understand that the full fledged angst, character growth, and introspection y'all are speculating could have theoretically happened in Kai's plot is what we could have had for everyone. For a full episode. Like it deserved to be. And it would have been really cool, and really satisfying, and beautifully and symbolically stunning, because countless other people have done it, it's honestly not too difficult. Stop freaking out like they did a good job with this- they didn't do a good job with this. They couldn't even bother to give everyone a vision, they just gave up on the concept halfway through.

Not to mention how accessible and valuable this type of storytelling is to kids! Literalizing some of the big abstract issues these characters are supposedly battling this season would be a great way to get kids to grasp these ideas, but instead it's literally like two and a half minutes of slightly ominous stuff to bate us before we move on.

Stop teasing us with interesting stuff and then not actually following through! This is not how you do storytelling!

[landinrris]

I'd love to hear more about the Vietnam cave photo & back in Hanoi (Norrix)!

Ugh this smaller fic is so beyond overdue. It's mostly what it sounds like. I was writing a drabble about how Lando took That photo of Martin in the cave back in Vietnam that ends up culminating in a bit of smut once they get back to Hanoi and away from all their friends they're with. Tents don't exactly provide the best privacy.

All that needs to be finished on it is the smut, but I had hit a tiny roadblock with it. I guess this is my cue to try and pick it up again.

This snippet is a bit of conversation they have while they're sitting in the sand together post-photo:

----

“Penny for your thoughts?” He tilts his head down onto Martin’s shoulder, eyes staring blankly at the natural light beginning to filter in with more force. They probably don’t have much time left alone.

Martin snakes a hand to curl around Lando’s thigh. The weight is comforting in a way that makes Lando’s body melt into Martin’s that much more. If they were anywhere with even a modicum more privacy…

“There’s a part of me that wishes this would never end. That we could disappear and live off the grid somewhere where no one would find us.”

“As long as there’s indoor plumbing,” Lando adds. But he relates concerningly to Martin— maybe that’s why they work so well together. Long lost souls who cherish what they get to do, but secretly would give it all up for a life of calm and contentment.

“I’ll build you a karting track so you don’t get too rusty.”

Lando laughs and seals his mouth into Martin’s shoulder in an attempt at muffling his noises. He doesn’t miss the way Martin shivers.

“And a studio in the spare room for you.”

“Sounds like the perfect dream home.”

Lando kind of hates how his stomach jumps at Martin’s words. They’ve only officially been together since the end of November, known each other for a year and a half. If anything, he should be spooked about Martin talking about a future already, yet he feels anything but.

Lando should have laughed and run away when Martin suggested this trip in the first place, especially being so close to the start of the season, yet here he is.

His self-preservation instincts may be a bit broken when it comes to Martin.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about when I woke up before realizing where you were?” Lando asks, letting his impulsive thoughts float to the surface.

“Hmm?” There’s a note of interest in his voice that’s disastrous for Lando’s self-restraint.

“How unfair it is that I’m spending my last days of break with you and we’re surrounded by other people in very not sound-proofed tents.”

Martin’s hand around Lando’s thigh squeezes, and Lando can’t help but let it fall in towards Martin. “Are you uninviting me to the UK when we get back?”

Their last hurrah before Martin’s tour starts, but Lando will be back working by then. He has a few days in Monaco while Martin is in the studio to unpack and maybe get lunch with Carlos, but then he has to go do his helmet reveal and do the car launch, film what’ll feel like never-ending promo material. Martin can be off-camera while Ash takes photos of him, but it won’t be the same.

Lando scoffs and playfully digs his front teeth into Martin’s shoulder. “If you don’t come to London with me when I’m not gonna see you until mid March…” he trails off, tilting his head up to look at Martin for the first time in several minutes. The stare that greets him sends a shiver up Lando’s spine.

“If it makes you feel better, we have a day when we get back to Hanoi where we will not be sharing a hotel room with anyone. And I will make it up to you.” He murmurs the last bit as he leans in to close the gap to Lando’s mouth.

There’s something about the quiet morning light that makes this feel that much more special for as simple of a kiss as it is. But that’s how Martin has always driven Lando insane— with careful and sure movements that eventually culminate in Lando becoming a begging mess.

Lando pushes closer, opening his mouth under Martin’s while trying to stifle as much noise as he can. God, he hasn’t been kissed like this, one of Martin’s hands coming to cradle his jaw and tip his head back, since they left Hanoi. How silly, to ache without the presence of someone’s touch after a few days, but it’s an ache Lando feels all the same.

[lancer-fan-club-was-taken]

yall asked for this.

utdr music preference hcs.

so i'm doing this is mainly from a genre perspective, and a little bit from a... what human music i think they'd like once they get the surface. perspective. i think they had access to some human music but ill specify when im working under that hc.

and when i mention an artist, i don't mean they'd actually listen to them, i mean that they'd listen to the like... utdr equivalent of them. ik that's confusing but that's how i rationalize it.

ok lets go.

frisk

i feel like their taste is insane. they're a kiddo so they mainly listen to what their parents like, which i'll get too, but i think once they get a bit older they just end up listening to the strangest sounding shit. like irl they'd REALLY love klaus nomi. they like new wave and opera separately, so together? amazing!

i also think they'd be super vague about everything. like you'd ask them where they found an artist and they'd just respond "internet."

klaus nomi's cover of "lightning strikes" is the exact type of music i'm thinking they'd like.

flowey/asriel

i think his taste is sorta similar to his parents, but with chara's influence mixed in. a bit of county, but also some grunge. i think he'd be more of a pearl jam guy then a nirvana guy. his taste in country would also skew more towards folk rock. mfer would LOVE crazy horse.

i think right after becoming like... "numb" ig, he'd try listening to whatever the monster equivalent of heavy metal is, and he hated it.

chara

i think they're the type of person who doesnt care about the like- quality of singing, and will treat the stupidest lyrics like they're super deep and meaningful.

they'd like nirvana i think, sorry nirvana fans but im right. i think they'd like the mars volta for sure, and would act like they understand wtf they're talking about. idk why but i feel like their birth parents would've been really into those types of music ig.

maybe king crimson? but i feel like they'd be too old for their birth parents or them to really know or care about.

i also like them liking sorta... 'uncouth' sounding music or whatever, would make a really funny contrast with their manner of speaking and personality. and the only thing uncouth about king crimson is how long their fucking songs are, AM I RIGHT??? ok.

toriel

i feel like her taste is surprisingly diverse, i think she likes country like asgore, but i also think she'd like gospel and softer rock and some soul.

i feel like once she gets the surface she'd like james brown.

as for country, she's a dolly parton mom. ik em when i see em. she's also a elton john mom. i don't think she'd get that "sweet painted lady" is about prostitution.

sans

idk why but i've always thought it'd be really funny if sans had some access to music from the surface, but still very, very little, and the only music he actually LIKED from the surface was fuckin steely dan of all things. he had access to half of aja and was like "damn this is great." it's a song about dying in a car crash, sans. in general i think he'd like lounge jazz.

i also think he'd be a fan of dad rock in general. gives me the vibe of really liking early nu metal. californication ass skeleton.

papyrus

i feel like this is where people are gonna disagree w me and im fine with that. i think he also likes nu metal, but only cuz when he's driving, sans has control of the radio and most of the time he's playing red hot chili peppers. he's gotten used to it.

i don't think he really cares for much music. in general i think he prefers quiet, but if he does listen to music by himself, it's electric light orchestra. i think he listens to bluebird is dead with a completely straight face. he completely understands what it's about, it just makes him feel nothing. no i don't know why i think these things about papyrus. don't worry about it.

undyne

this is hard cuz i think as a musician undyne would have a pretty diverse taste in music that's a bit harder to pin down. i think she'd like stuff that's a little bit softer then you'd expect, still loud, but not INSANELY loud. i personally think she'd mainly like instrumentals.

i sorta get the impression that she'd like bebop, especially the faster stuff. the faster the better! more avant-grade jazz in general feels like it'd be absolutely her shit. i think she'd like probably one country song, 1. cause of asgore and 2. i like thinking her family would be into country. it'd be a funny contrast.

also anime ops ofc.

alphys

anime ops. i think she went through a phase of only listening to whatever anime ops she could find. i think she goes through phases with her music, like she doesn't have a specific genre she favors she just goes through phases of listening to the same five songs by one artist then moves on.

if i had to chose a genre i think she'd like bubblegum pop. girl would get really obsessed with prozzak and then write fanfic about them kissing. good for her.

asgore

so asgore canonically likes country, but there's a lotta country, what type of country? well... rock. duh. i feel like he would really like lynyrd skynyrd and would insist on listening to all of free bird every time he plays it. i think his entire music taste would be road trip music.

also i've said this before, but he'd listen to steely dan too. he's divorced after all.

gaster

this loser listens to classical music for sure. dmitri shostakovich likin' mfer.

deltarune time!

so we don't have much on these characters so far, so i'm just going by impressions. they're gonna be a bit shorter.

kris

i think they'd also like really weird ass music like frisk, but it's more ya know- contemporary. it's like- they like emo and alternative shit, but it's really really weird emo and alternative shit.

this doesn't really fit what i said, but i think they'd like gorillaz.

susie

i feel like susie is the epitome of that meme that's like "she's prolly listening to sth really hardcore," and she's listening to like bubblegum kk or some shit. i feel like all her playlists look crazy. it'll be like paramore next to fucking little shop or some shit.

noelle

she listens to holiday music all year round. tell me she doesn't.

ok but seriously i think she'd like chappell roan, and then feel like such a rebel for listening to a song that has 'fuck' in it. ik that doesn't work with deltarunes timeline but idc. cope. /silly

berdly

i feel like he primarily listens to older video game music, cuz ofc he would. he also genuinely gives off the same vibes as every ween fan ive ever met. whatever the utdr ween equivalent is, he's obsessed with it.

otherwise... i really don't know why, but i get the vibe that he'd like sorta... kelly clarkson adjacent music? i don't wanna just say pop music, cuz that's super unspecific, but like- that specific subset of pop music. i think he's super embarrassed about it, but like- come on berdly, kelly clarkson is an amazing singer! nothing to be embarrassed about!

[thehomophobe]

Monty and Roxy Nikke Voice Lines

Monty 🐊:

First Meeting:

-Don't get your hopes up. I'm not gonna be all chummy to you.

Tapping in Lobby:

-Got something to say meatsack?

-Hands off the glasses!

-Look you wanna chat? Go find someone else who cares.

Tapping in Lobby (Bond Lv. 10):

-If anyone's giving you a hard time, call me and I'll beat 'em up for ya.

-Be careful walking around here alone cher. Even if we're in this "utopia", there's still some bad people down here. People willing to kill you to prove how corrupt this place is.

-I trust you Cher...but once you betray us, I'll have your head.

Idle in Lobby:

-What you want meatsack? I'm bored and this close to destorying somethin'.

Idle in Lobby (Bond Lv. 10):

-Hey cher, need some help with that? Those scrawny arms would break with those stacks of reports.

Tapping in Outpost:

-This place looks better at night.

-How'd you find here?

-Think the club's open?

Combat Power Up:

-I can kill those raptures faster now.

-That's the good stuff.

-An upgrade? Sweet!

Gift:

-Thanks I guess.

-What am I supposed to do with this?

-Let's hope I don't destroy this thing.

Bond Level Up:

-I guess...you're not as bad I as thought you were

-Glad someone here feels the same way I do

-Now I don't say this a lot but...thanks cher...for everything...

Field:

-Let's rock! [Squad Formation]

-What do ya want? [Tapping Squad in Field]

-Where are we even going? [Moving Squad in Field]

-Finally some action! [Entering Battle]

Battle Beginning:

-There you are...

-Come an' get it!

-I'm a turn y'all to scraps!

Reload:

-Damn gun...

-Hold on...

-Stupid thing...

Burst:

-Let me at 'em! [Burst Skill Available]

-Rock & Roll!!! [Burst Skill]

-Whoo! [Full Burst]

Killing Enemy:

-Haha!

-Yeah that's right!

-Got that one in the face!

Get Hit:

-Damn

-Rrr...

-Ay!

Out of Action:

-God...damn it

Battle Victory:

-Alright who's next?!

Roxy 🐺:

First Meeting:

-You do as I say and we'll get along just fine.

Tapping in Lobby:

-Quit poking me! Are you always this touchy-feely? 

-I'm not gonna follow you around helplessly like your guard dog fleshbag.

-Seems to me you're in need of a lesson. It's time to show why I'm the best of the entire V.7 Squardon.

Tapping in Lobby (Bond Lv. 10):

-Wanna head out later? Chica's been dying to try this new restaurant that just opened in the district and she wants you to come with us.

-I've been lied before, multiple times. Trust me, this place isn't as "perfect" as everyone believes it is. If you ask me, they're all just mindless sheep. I hope you don't get in line with them as well.

-Everytime I go to the Outpost, I'm always remind of how hard the life of a human is. You're constantly worrying what's gonna kill and how to prevent from being killed. The future for you is just being able to wake up the next day. It's the sad truth, but this is where you've started to succumb to.

Idle in Lobby:

-Oh, it's you again. Go. Do your...whatever work you do.

Idle in Lobby (Bond Lv. 10):

-Ditch the work. We're taking a drive on the surface.

Tapping in Outpost:

-Hey this shop is having a flash sale.

-Milkshakes, arcade games and car ride down the shopping district; sounds like the perfect night.

-I can be myself when I'm out here. I don't have to worry about other people's expectations.

Combat Power Up:

-Can you put those upgrades into my car as well?

-Only that best upgrades for the best android.

-Anything else?

Gift:

-Not bad I guess.

-How much did you pay for this?

-This...actually matches aesthetic. Thanks.

Bond Level Up:

-I don't know how to say this but...I think we've gotten a lot closer than before.

-Don't take my kindness for weakness. I'm only doing you a favor.

-What? I-I'm NOT blushing!

Field:

-Nice choice. [Squad Formation]

-This place is a dump. [Tapping Squad in Field]

-The faster we go, the faster we get this over with. [Moving Squad in Field]

-Get in loser, we're going hunting.[Entering Battle]

Battle Beginning:

-Watch and learn losers

-These guys are nothing.

-You can't hide from me.

Reload:

-Can't quit now.

-I'm out.

-Reloading.

Burst:

-My turn. [Burst Skill Available]

-Go! For Number One!

[Burst Skill]

-Hit the gas! [Full Burst]

Killing Enemy:

-In the lead.

-Bullseye

.-And that's another one for me.

Get Hit:

-Damn...

-Ugh...

-Tch..

Out of Action:

-But...I'm the best

Battle Victory:

-Of course we won, we're the best there is.