#i'll probably make a finished piece of them next year. probably

[theynanigans]

just finished crosscode + the dlc! these 3 are so fun and i had to draw them. despite being short on time. sooo quick doodles go brr <3

[salem-witch-slut]

Keep The Pressure Up (18+)

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader x Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: Ellie and Abby love to tease you and torture you. But tonight, they want to see how far you can actually go.

WARNINGS: OVERSTIMULATION, eating pussy, strap-on usage, lots of swearing, slight mental abuse, polyamory, face-sitting, Ellie is brutal as hell, Abby is the caring one here, NSFW AF

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: This was probably one of my most favorite smut pieces I did for kinktober last year. I mean, it's still october right? I'll post it again! Also, this should go without saying, but don't steal my shit and then post it on wattpad as your own. Someone did that with this fic and just switched Ellie's name so it was fuckin' Billie Eilish and Abby (make that make sense), but do NOT steal my work.

Dividers made by @cafekitsune

 “Abby, fucking hold her!”

“You think it’s easy? She squirms around too much!”

“Unbelievable; you’re built like a goddamn tank, and you can’t even hold her still.”

“You think it’s so fuckin’ easy? You hold her then!”

“Fine! Move, bitch. I got this.”

The shuffle on the bed was bordering on distracting as the two switched positions overtop of you. The blonde that attempted to hold down your squirming legs was now grabbing at both of your wrists with one hand, holding it over your head while picking up the discarded vibrator on the bed next to her.

The redhead had replaced her spot, cold hands digging into your shins and shoving your legs apart as far as you’d allow without trying to hurt you, keeping them down and letting them both see your glistening cunt that was slightly gaped out and dripping with the aftermath of the two stretching you out with the fat silicone toy resting on the nightstand.

You had already cum at least three times, but they weren’t finished with you. As much as you fought against them, they were relentless. At first it was simply Ellie holding your arms down and towering over you as Abby put her mouth to good use and licked your cunt until you were crying. Her hair was long undone from her braid and wild in golden waves around her head, tickling against your thighs as she feasted upon you.

But Ellie got impatient. After too long, she grabbed Abby by the hair and forced her to look up, demanding that they switch spots. You sobbed pathetically. Abby was the champion when it came to strapping you two, but Ellie? Ellie ate pussy like she was starving. You knew you didn’t stand a chance.

They traded off every few minutes, exchanging a few sweet kisses between each other before deciding on the ultimate torture for you. Abby kept your wrists pinned to your head and kept the vibrator in her hand, turning the toy on and pressing it against your lower stomach just to tease you.

“What do you think, babe?” Abby looked at Ellie who was grinning like a madwoman. “Think she needs more, doesn’t she?”

“A-Abby…” You looked up at the blonde who was biting her lip and pressed a little kiss to your cheek. “C-Can’t…”

“Oh, yes you can,” Abby ignored your fear and pressed the vibrator directly on your clit, smirking when you attempted to squirm away, but Ellie kept you down on the bed. “You will take it… gonna make you cum until we decide when it’s enough.”

The noise you made was borderline feral. You made a guttural cry of pleasure and Ellie laughed at your voice cracking. Her nails raked across your skin and admired how your hips twitched, bucking up against the vibrator in Abby’s massive hand and admiring how her veined hands flexed in place to keep it on your clit.

It hurt, but it felt so fucking good. You wanted them to stop, but also wanted more. You loved being the center of attention, and adored how they were trying so hard to make you speechless and a blubbering mess at their mercy. As if they didn’t make you like that all of the time anyway…

“Sit on her face,” Ellie said, almost like she was desperate to see more. Her hands flexed aggressively and you flinched when she touched a vein behind your knee, making your leg jerk. Abby looked up at Ellie, biting her lip and then licking over the teeth marks. “Go on. She keeps on screamin’, she needs to use that mouth.”

“Ellie—” Abby warned.

“Just fucking do it, Abby!” Ellie demanded. It was like she was also getting off to watching this, heart pounding as she held you down into the mattress. Abby shared a look with you and momentarily removed the vibrator from your pussy, making you gurgle on a breath of relief.

Ellie was getting impatient as she released your legs and crawled up closer, yanking the vibrator away from Abby’s hand and went back for the harness that Abby had discarded earlier. You were very distracted, watching the blonde strip off her black boxers and swing her leg over the side of your head, her pussy mere inches from your face.

“Fuck…” You salivated, hands reaching up and gently grabbing her ass, squeezing and playing with her strong muscle and making her blush with embarrassment. Had she been in her right mind, she would have been teasing you about having a thing for her ass, but it was your turn to knock the breath from her. “So fucking pretty.”

Abby bit her lip and rolled her eyes back for a second, reveling in your tongue against her slit and gently grinding down against your face. “Nnnn… that’s it pretty girl… just like that… just fuck—E-Ellie, what are you—“

The redhead grabbed a fistful of Abby’s long hair and kissed her desperately. She wiggled her way between your legs and Abby knew something was different when she felt your dull teeth graze her clit and she looked down to see Ellie sinking her strap inside of your pussy with little to no warning.

In protest, your hands began to smack at Abby’s rear, almost desperately begging for Ellie to slow down, but she refused. You screamed into the blonde’s cunt. In between huffs of pleasure, Abby told the redhead how you must have been feeling. “E-Ellie, Ellie slow down! It’s too much for her.”

Ellie chuckled. “Fucking bullshit, I saw you damn near fist her the other day… Not gonna fit? I’ll fucking make it fit.”

Abby held your thighs open and began to slowly rub your clit, trying to ease out more wetness from you and get your pussy nice and slick so you could easily take Ellie. A few extra seconds passed before Ellie grabbed you by the waist and slammed down inside of you. The tip of her massive toy cock kissed your cervix and you shrieked into Abby’s pussy.

Everything felt so overwhelming, and you thought you were drowning, and it wasn’t because Abby was wetter than a damn waterfall. There wasn’t much you could do other than keep licking and slurping on Abby’s clit like you were made to please her.

“Shit… fuck, she’s so good at this,” Abby praised you, rubbing one hand over your belly while the other reached up and grabbed the back of Ellie’s neck. “M-Made a really good choice with her, d-didn’t we El?”

Ellie was thrusting wildly, grip around your waist as she split you apart on her strap, pushing her forehead against Abby’s and peppering her handsome face in kisses like she couldn’t get enough of this woman in front of her. If she wasn’t being so rough, this moment may have been really cute and sweet.

“Wanna make her cum again…” Ellie huffed, rolling her hips and touching so deep inside of you with her dick that you saw stars behind your eyes. She scrambled forward, grasping the vibrator and when she pressed it to your clit where Abby’s hand was, you started screaming into Abby’s pussy once again.

Abby wanted to hear you, so she crawled off your face and sat down right next to you, watching how you squirmed and trembled in place, grabbing at Ellie’s wrist and trying to find some form of pause in her movements. There was none. Ellie wasn’t stopping. She had far too much stamina to let up any fucking time soon.

“Come on- Come on baby,” Ellie growled, her thrusts growing harder and harder with every passing second. You didn’t stand a chance. The buzzing of the vibrator, how she was hammering into your cervix, and the way that Abby was holding you at the shoulders to keep you down.

The noise you made when you finally climaxed was enough for Ellie to roll her eyes back in response, basking in the sounds you made. “Fuuuuuuck! Ohmygod, OHMYGOD! Ohfuckfuck! Nnnnnn…!! S-Stop! Stopstopstop Elliepl-please I c-cant—”

She didn’t turn off the vibrator or stop fucking you when you came. Abby had never seen her like this, and she was staring in wonder as her wife destroyed you without any form of mercy in her body. Her tattooed forearm flexed, and she pushed her other hand down into your abdomen, fucking deep into your cunt and watching you start to sob and shake against Abby’s hold.

“Not a chance, little slut,” Ellie barked meanly, angling the vibrator against your clit to give the maximum stimulation. Your hands grabbed at Abby’s arms, nails digging in and the blonde was so out of it that she almost didn’t notice your grip at all. She was too busy watching Ellie and how she was basically torturing you. That smirk on the redhead’s face was so beautiful and so terrifying… “You’re gonna cum again.”

You sobbed brokenly, squirming and thrashing around on the bed as your hips bucked upward, doing anything and everything to shake her off so she would pull the vibrator away, but this woman was uncompromising. Nothing in hell could stop her from making you cum again.

“Ellie,” Abby said, trying to gain her wife’s attention. She was seeing the tears streaming down your face and how your thighs were shaking so bad that you looked like you were going to break. “Ellie, you gotta let up—”

“She’s got one more in her,” Was all Ellie said, looking down at your pathetically whiny face and seeing how your eyes were rolling back in your head and you started screaming bloody murder. The neighbors definitely hated you all at this point. “Come on baby… cum one more time and I’ll stop…”

Your clit was going numb, and you wished her thrusts would stop, but you were falling into the dark again. The pleasure was blinding, and you had no choice but to comply with Ellie’s words. Your climax this time was so intense that your vision went spotty and you lost your voice, heart racing and eyes crossing so bad that Ellie started laughing.

“Fuck, look at her Abby,” Ellie teased, wiggling the vibrator around on your clit and pulling out more screams from you. “Look at how fucked dumb she is…”

“Ellie,” Abby reached out and grabbed her wife’s wrist, carefully removing the vibrator from your cunt and turning it off. “Ellie, ease up…”

The redhead complied this time, slowing her thrusts and then carefully removing her strap from you. A white ring was around the base of the cock, and she smirked, pulling off the harness and flopping down onto the bed next to you. She left soft little kisses on your neck and cheek, Abby following her lead and pushing the hair away from your face.

Your focus was only on breathing. Your muscles twitched a little and you felt like everything was going dark, eyes fluttering closed and body going completely limp on the mattress.

Abby chuckled and gently caressed your face. “That’s it, sweet girl… you get some rest, did so good for us, didn’t you?”

“Prettiest little fucktoy we could ever have,” Ellie taunted, kissing your face and then kissing Abby’s face.

“Really did a number on her, didn’t we?”

Ellie snorted. “We? Please, I did everything.”

“Oh, bullshit, you did not!”

“Yeah? You wanna bet on that?”

Before Abby and Ellie could prove their dominance by fucking each other, you let out a whine of protest and grabbed at Ellie’s waist, holding her down onto the bed and whining. “Don’t go anywhere… please…”

Ellie smirked, loving when you got clingy and whiny like an attached puppy. She fell down onto her back and turned to her side, holding you close and resting her head on the pillow above yours. Abby sighed, ignoring the throbbing in her cunt as she laid down next to you, gently rubbing your tummy and soothing your trembling muscles.

“Once she’s rested,” Abby breathed slowly, looking up to meet Ellie’s eyes. “We’re gonna double-team you.”

Ellie snorted. “Good luck doming me. Couldn’t even hold her down.”

“Ugh, can’t wait to fuck that attitude out of you.”

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[impish-baby]

Platonic yandere! Loanshark familly concept drabble - 🍊 (warning, reader is not treated nicely at all to start off with! All hurt, no comfort)

"I've given you plenty of time to start making payments, y'know."

It would be easier to comprehend the words if you weren't so dizzy, the room spins no matter how still you try to be.

"Listen, I get it, ok?" The man coos condescendingly as he grips your chin to turn your head up to face him, uncaring about the tiny whine that leaves your lips. "But things are hard on all of us right now, ain't I owed my dues?"

It's not even your stupid debt to begin with, you hadn't seen your dad in years.

A piece of paper saying you're the only next of kin and you end up here.

"You're.. what? College age?" He sighs, eyes narrowing. "You better not be pissing all your cash away on some fancy degree, if you're in school you have to know what priorities are, right? I'm not waiting however long it takes for you-"

"Daddy!" A cheery voice rings out as the door slams open, "Momma said you're busy, but you're never too busy for me, right?"

Your head is unceremoniously dropped as the man turns to face the girl that just barged in. Rude.

"No, 'course not, princess. Give me just a sec to finish up, then I'll be all yours." His smile is gentle as he presses a quick kiss to her forehead, "why don't you go find one of your big brothers? They can keep you company until I'm done."

"Mm.." You can't help the groan of pain as a hand suddenly grabs a fist full of your hair to yank your head upwards again.

"Who's this?" She sounds genuinely curious as she examines you, "aw, poor thing, they're all beat up.."

"Just someone who's not being the smartest right now, baby." He hums, "nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

A pout settles on her lips as she glances back at him, "Could I play with them? Please, Dad? They're probably cute under those bruises.."

The man sighs, leaning back as he rubs his chin. "Can't say no, can I? I guess we can work something out.."

[magniloquent-raven]

I'm getting distracted from my current projects by someone else's post again someone tell me to stop going on tumblr while I have WIPs lmfao

@rosetterer this isn't EXACTLY what you posted about but it does get there in the end

**

Twenty-four hours has never seemed like such an insurmountably long time.

Buck's had long shifts before, the boring ones when he'd stare at the alarms on the wall, willing them to go off—he can picture Maddie's disappointed scowl if she ever found out about that, but he swears he was only hoping for something small and harmless to break up the monotony—and the busy ones. Ones that leave his ears ringing with phantom sirens by the end. Those days only ever seem long in retrospect, when he's bone-tired and trying to remember all the names he asked for.

But now every shift seems to find new and shittier ways to be gruelling. Eddie's miserable and trying to act like he isn't. There's this weird, uncomfortable tension brewing between Hen and Chim. Ravi got himself transferred to B shift—probably to get away from Gerrard, and Buck can't exactly blame him, but he sort of does anyway and their new probie is terrible, and... then there's Gerrard.

Like, Buck already knew he was a piece of work, but. Knowing and experiencing are two very different things. He could barely stand keeping his mouth shut at the medal ceremony when he met the man for five seconds, and now he has to put up with him making smug, belittling comments towards all his friends, all the time. Constantly needing to remind himself he doesn't want to get fired is actually killing him.

It doesn't help that every so often he'll remember Tommy's offhand Captain Gerrard was like having the dad I already had, with a pang as he wonders what exactly Tommy grew up with. What parts of Gerrard's condescending tyranny were familiar to him. Phillip Buckley may not have been father of the year, but maybe never being looked directly at was better than being raised neck deep in toxic waste.

Every time he remembers he gets the urge to pull out his phone and call Tommy up just to... he doesn't even know. Just to hear his voice, maybe. Know if he's doing okay.

Another reason work days seem so long now, if he's being honest. He's always counting down the hours until he can see Tommy again. Like a kid on the last day of school, watching the clock tick closer and closer to summer vacation.

So, of course, right near the end of a particularly busy shift, Gerrard gets them all lined up for a lecture about how sloppy that last save was. Everyone did something wrong, and everyone needs to hear about all the ways they could have gotten someone killed, like they don't all know how risky the job is already.

By the time he's finished telling Chim it's a miracle he managed to convince anyone to let him out on calls, Buck is clenching his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache.

"I'm sure Captain Soft-Touch loved telling you all it was okay to be mediocre, and that you were trying your best," Gerrard sneers at them all, waving a dismissive hand at very idea of Bobby's captaincy. "But the coddling ended when he retired. Sparing your feelings is going to get people killed. Diaz!" He shouts, abrupt, turning on his heel towards Eddie. Eddie doesn't flinch, but Buck does.

"Yes, sir?" He's coolly polite, and his face is carefully blank, but his posture is tense.

"If I ever catch you checking your phone at a scene again, I'll make sure you're mopping floors for the rest of your life."

Eddie's expression hardens. It was a fender-bender and Eddie didn't even touch his phone until everyone was accounted for and packed into the ambulance. "It was a text from my son. Sir." His tone veers a little to the left of polite.

"I don't care if it was from the goddamn Pope, when you're in the field your focus stays on scene. Next time your brat needs something tell him to go cry to his mother about it."

This time when Buck flinches, everyone else in line does too. Hen bites down on a grimace. Chim hisses quietly through his teeth.

"I can't do that," Eddie says flatly. "What with her being dead and all."

The firehouse is silent for a long, horrible moment. That might've taken the wind out of any decent person's sails, Buck thinks. At the very least most people would've retreated into awkwardness and ended the lecture entirely.

Gerrard's brow pinches angrily. "Don't get smart with me, Diaz."

Buck's not sure it's possible to hate someone more than he hates their new captain right now.

"I don't care about your little sob story excuses, I care that you're sloppy and distracted. If you can't handle the job and the kid, drop one of them."

Oh, he was wrong.

He hates this man so much he's choking on it, it's clogging his throat like bile and he's running out of strength to care that he shouldn't spit it out, spew it everywhere and ruin everything just for the chance of hurting this man in the process. He feels like his skin is bursting at the seams.

Eddie's biting the inside of his cheek, rage and sorrow warring silently on his face.

And Buck breaks. Bursts. "Hey, Captain, that's—"

"Can it, Buckley," Gerrard cuts him off before he can even start. It's not angry, it's not anything, he brushes Buck off like he's an annoying fly buzzing in his ear, barely worth glancing at for the two seconds it takes to tell him he doesn't care. "You're all dismissed. Get out of my sight."

Some of them flee, scurrying to their lockers, the kitchen, anywhere but here. A couple of people throw backwards glances before they walk away. Hen and Chim exchange grim looks. Eddie disappears out the back door in an angry haze. And Buck...

Buck feels. Empty. Small. Like he cut himself open trying to relieve the pressure and now there's just nothing left. No one to patch up the wound, and no reason for any of it, he didn't make an impact, he didn't help anyone, he stood there listening to his friends get degraded, and now—now he's feeling sorry for himself?

It's stupid. He's stupid. He feels like shit because, what, because he didn't get yelled at? Because his piece of shit captain took a break from implying he's a disgusting pervert?

He thinks himself in circles about it his whole way home, the pit in his stomach getting a little deeper every time he tries to will it away.

He's wallowed himself halfway through a six-pack, staring sightlessly at his TV, by the time his front door opens.

"Evan?"

One of the knots in his chest loosens. "Yeah," he calls out, not bothering to sound less pathetic than he is. "In here."

"Hey." Tommy's stopped next to the stairs, eyeing him. His gaze is assessing, but his tone is soft. He's always so careful with Buck. "Bad day?"

Buck takes another sip of his beer. Shrugs.

"Ah, one of those."

The couch cushions dip as Tommy takes a seat next to him. He's close enough that Buck doesn't have to look at him to know he's there. There's warmth radiating off him. The woodsy scent of his aftershave. Buck presses their knees together, and exhales properly for the first time in hours.

He knows he could talk about whatever he wants and Tommy would let him. He's waiting for Buck to take the lead here. Buck could avoid the issue entirely and decide to talk about anything. The fact that he can't really tell the difference between the fancy beer Tommy insists is better than the crap Buck's drinking right now. The documentary about bees he's pretending to watch. The goddamn weather.

What comes out of his mouth is a quiet, "I feel like an idiot."

Tommy pulls the beer bottle out of Buck's loose grip, puts it down next to the couch, and then takes Buck's hand in both of his. "Why?"

Buck scrubs at his eyes. "I..." He catalogues the tiny scars on Tommy's knuckles. Two, three, little dots on his index finger. A lopsided vee on his thumb. "Something happened at work."

"Did Gerrard say something to you?" There's an edge to Tommy's question, something sharp and flinty. It makes Buck's heart do dumb little somersaults.

"No." He stops, shame burning his cheeks. "Not. Not to me. That's... He was lecturing everybody, and I..."

"Evan." Tommy grips his chin, firmly, gently, guiding Buck's face until he looks him in the eye. There's a sympathetic twist to his mouth. "Tell me."

He does. As best he can when it feels like what's didn't happen is more important, and he can barely put into words why that is. But trying helps, a little. Trying to whittle it down into an explanation forces him to look at the whole of it, and realize it's not looming over him anymore.

Maybe it's just Tommy's hands on him, soothing the hurt away.

"I dunno. Feels like I could have done something differently, maybe"

Tommy hums, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "You could've."

Buck winces.

"But it wouldn't have turned out any better."

Oh.

A flower blooms on the TV, purple and white petals reaching for the sun. Buck toys with Tommy's fingers, and shifts his leg closer, hooking their ankles together.

"It felt so shitty," he mutters.

"I know."

He would, wouldn't he. Buck gets that pang in his chest again, and he pushes the rest of the way into Tommy's space. Tommy wraps his arms around him, and drops a kiss into his curls, seemingly content to let Buck situate himself however he wants.

He kind of wishes Tommy wasn't still wearing jeans, but asking him to take his pants off might send the wrong message.

"You don't think I'm, like...a bad friend, right?" He cringes his way through the question.

"No." Tommy responds matter-of-factly and without hesitation. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. "I think you're a very good boy."

Buck's entire head feels like it's on fire. A grin starts to creep across his face. It might be the first time he's smiled all day. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

Maybe he should ask Tommy to take his jeans off after all.

[accio-victuuri]

010225: LRLG submission 🔴🟢

what a great way to start the year! a very long submission from lrlg! yaaaay!!!!! let me start with the last part of the post which is a message from lrlg.

It's been a long time since we last met. Isn't it a bit too long? All the work in 2024 is completed. We have entered a new year. Let's meet more often. Happy New Year!

i’m crying!!!! it’s been so long!!!!!

i will try and include as much as i can — especially one that have candy potential. the first part is bobo talking to his team and it’s a long convo but the important part is this:

staff: “How come when I went to the store to look at it, there were men’s rings?”

🟢: "I don't know. I can't go to the store."

🟢: "You can choose a pendant. There are many styles of pendants."

staff: "Only the dragon tablet and nothing else”

🟢 “Buy gold and strike it yourself”

staff:"It's too much trouble"

staff:"Just go with the gold bars and styles."

staff:“Buy ready-made”

HAHAHAHAHAHA IM CACKLING AT YIBO. Why are you like this. His staff has it hard. Why do you wanna make them hand made the gold jewelry you want???? and is this for XZ? part of the new year gift?

🟢 "Good, the only purpose is safety first"

🟢 "Absolutely"

🟢 “The express delivery has been waiting for several days.”

🟢 "It was sent by xx. If you don't go back, I'll find someone to pick it up."

🟢 "good"

the next two paragraphs are convos between wyb and his staff again. they are talking about wyb having enough time to go home ( probably spend time with xz ). then another convo about accessories.

🟢: "What did you order?"

🔴: The food I ordered hasn't arrived yet."

🟢 "I'm hungry."

Staff: "It'll probably be ten minutes. Sorry it's late."

🔴 "You're so busy. You're abusing your employees."

🟢 "Ah? Ask her."

Staff "Sorry I watched the game late"

🟢 "It's okay, I was hungry early"

🔴: "Table Tennis"

Staff "You watch it too"

🔴 "Well, mainly you are playing it out loud"

Staff "Ah, hold on to a little bit"

🟢 "Have you ordered any fruit"

🔴 "You have a big heart, dare to watch the live broadcast"

"Hey"

Staff "Then we must be on the same frequency, order fruit slices"

🟢 "I am your boss, right?"

Staff "But he is your boss"

🟢 "Okay, okay"

the next part is them finally getting their orders! HAHAHAHAHA! they ordered too much and WYB was telling his staff that when he finishes filming he will give them some time off.

Staff: "xx is here, why don't you go and take a look first?"

🟢 "Okay, you go first"

🔴 "Take a few bites of this"

🟢 "I'll come back to eat"

🔴 "Hey, there's no onion"

🟢 Chew chew chew "delicious"

🔴 "You're born in the year of the dog"

🟢 😨

🔴 "My gloves have been bitten through"

🔴 "It's so bad"

🟢 "There's water in the cabinet. I'll roll it for you when I get back. You guys eat first."

Staff "I still have two new ones."

OMGGGG they are feeding each other! and yes XZ he is a puppy! Your puppy!!!! 🥹🥹🥹😂😂😂

the next paragraphs is when WYB has already left and XZ is left with the staff. it makes me feel things that XZ is so familiar with WYB’s staff. they are truly a team that he can even joke with them. you can tell the familiarity.

Staff "I'll treat you guys to a good meal tonight"

🔴 "I'll charge you a lot"

Staff "Hey, the boss isn't here?"

Staff "XX is here"

and they are talking about a watch that was sent.

🟢 "Why aren't you eating yet?"

🔴 "It's only five minutes, you should be back in fifteen minutes."

🟢 "I grabbed the cantaloupe, it's sweet."

Staff How come yours is already cut? I just took two pieces."

🟢 "XX has already cut ones, you didn't get them

Staff "They just cut it. Do I dare to take it?"

🔴 "It's cold whether you eat it or not"

🟢 "Wash your hands"

—-

🔴 "Is it so difficult to eat a meal?"

🟢 "Didn't I ask you to eat first?"

🟢 "Oh, then it's no different from eating at home"

🔴 "You're the one who said all the words"

🟢 "Why are you cursing?"

🔴 "Which word did I use to curse?"

🟢 "You cursed in a very civilized way"

🔴 "The sauce is too salty"

🟢 "Good God"

LOL they never change with the bickering! and how they go back to talking as usual after.

——

🟢 Let Brother X take you there this afternoon"

🔴 "No need for XX"

🟢 "What did you buy?"

🔴 "There are dogs all over your pants"

🟢 "Are you a little dog now?"

🔴 "Yes, you are a little pig dog"

🟢 👊🏻

🔴 "Hey, how can you be so disrespectful?"

🔴 "Why do I feel that this sauce is different from what I ate before?"

Staff "Salty and sweet"

🟢 Change the chef"

🔴 "Hiss"

🟢 "I'll pick you up in the afternoon"

🔴 "No need, I don't know what time I'll be back"

🟢 "Call me when you're done"

the last part is labeled as a funny story among WYB and his staff

🟢 "Who ate the spicy noodles?"

Staff “Everyone in the room ate them."

Staff "Too spicy, that spicy strips they bought online"

Staff "xx had a nosebleed after eating it"

🟢 "Let me taste it"

Staff "Don't eat it, I ate a small piece and now my stomach is on fire"

🟢 "Medical insurance can't be used anymore, this is how it is"

😂😂😂😂 anyway, WYB! Don’t eat that spicy thing!!!!

-END.

i am not authorized to translate the entire thing but these are the ones that stood out and included xz and wyb interaction! this is such a simple part of their life but that’s how it is. i’m glad they get to spend time together. the question is, when was this. lol. this post as you may have noticed is more on the translation and a tiny bit of commentary from me. i will do a longer reaction and crying post later. 🫶🏼

in the meantime, enjoy ^^

[sporeclan]

Hellooooo! I’m working on a clangen blog of my own, so I’m going around asking my favorite clangen blogs some questions. I’m happy to get answers to whichever you feel like answering (or none at all if you don’t feel like it!)

What program and file size do you use?

If you use a font, what font is it?

How far ahead do you recommend playing?

Do you have any advice for layouts?

Do you have any tips for lighting/drawing fur?

Do you have any tips for making cats look more unique?

If you do backgrounds, do you have any advice for creating them?

If you use them, where do you recommend finding reference images?

Hi!! :D

1) I use Clip Studio Paint! Unfortunately not a free program, but I'm very very fond of it. Definitely recommend it to anyone who has the money! My file size is about 1680px wide, I believe? With varying heights. I definitely wouldn't recommend doing it that way, but it's what works for me so :')

2) I made the font myself, actually! Highly recommend doing that tbh, it's a happy medium between getting something handwritten looking without having to spend a thousand years writing haha :D There are probably a hundred websites out there that let you make you own font, but I used Calligraphr

3) It depends! For me playing to about 12-15 moons ahead with a minimum of 6 moons works really well with my style and workflow. Makes me able to cobble together these small interpersonal plotlines while also letting me occasionally play and get new drama to get invested in these characters all over again about. But if I were going for something with a major overarching plot, I would probably go a lot further ahead, if not straight up take the playthrough as far as I'd want it/until a game over just to not risk rng screwing with my plans

4) I would suggest looking up comic panelling tips in general for a better explaination than what I can offer, but I'll try to explain my basic process :'D I mostly go by heart, but I do like to sometimes follow this rule of thumb I like to call the 'Z'

When we read text, we learn to go from left to right, then back to left at a slight diagonal to get to the next line. By following that simple shape when placing characters and especially text, it makes it flow much more naturally to us. And when your pages flow well, you get to break that flow when you want a scene to feel more tense! I tried doing that with the last two panels of the page above and I really liked how that came out :D

Another couple of tips is 1) try not to make the panels too uniform 2) if you want to use two panels for one scene, slanting the side of a panel can make it feel like they flow into each other better, like matching two puzzle pieces if that makes sense 3) small overlapping panels are great for reaction shots and so fun to do!

And lastly, don't be afraid to break the panel border!

It can add a lot of momentum and impact if used right! Plus it's so fun to do <3

5) No sorry, I don't do lighting/shading in my comics at all :'D

6) I have a couple posts here and here describing my own process a bit! But otherwise I'd like to refer to whisper-cats' response to this same prompt, it's pretty in depth and I think they give some really solid advice here!

7) Not particularly, just find a style that works for you the best. I don't do a lot of backgrounding, but when I do, it's in this lineless limited palette style because that's just my favourite kind of background to make

I do highly recommend trying to limit how much time you spend on a background. Don't burn yourself out on one panel because then you'll never wanna finish the whole page!

And for 8), I dont use references so sadly I can't give you any good recommendations there either :')

I hope any of this made sense, lol! Good luck with your blog!

[inkmonster21]

The Willing One

Carry On - The Traveler x Fem!Reader

Words: 14,686 (Long asf so I’m sorry)

Warnings: (manipulation, ptsd, stockholm syndrome, SMUT)

You wake up groggily as your alarm blares in your ears. You check the time, frowning at 4 am. Your bed sheets shift off of you as you sit up, stretching out your limbs.

A sigh escapes you before you get out of bed, your feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. You remain steadfast to the routine you've set for yourself. After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you stroll into your living room, doing yoga while a piping hot cup of coffee goes cold on the coffee table.

Your living room is adorned with festive Christmas decorations. Brightly colored lights and decorations hang from the wall. Gifts are scattered under the tree, awaiting your parents' arrival later today.

It was your final attempt to prove to them that you were doing fine. Despite living in LA and struggling to make ends meet, you were determined to pursue your dream of becoming an actress. Your parents of course thought that your aspiration was foolish. They would always push you to return home and take the desk job waiting for you at the office. But no, you stayed determined. You could achieve it. You would attain it!

Even if it meant working a shitty TSA job, especially on the busiest travel day of the year, you were persistent.

You finish your yoga routine, and the sun's first light starts to peek over the horizon. You head into the bathroom for a shower. As you rinse the shampoo from your hair, a nagging feeling overcomes you that you're being watched. You pause for a moment, turning slowly to look around the room.

You're met with no signs of an intruder. There's no one inside the bathroom with you. Though the initial wave of unease passes, a sense of lingering discomfort remains.

You prepare for work, applying makeup, styling your hair up in your hair claw, and donning your uniform. Gathering your belongings, you place them into a bag. You exit your apartment and make your way to the bus stop. After climbing aboard, you make your way toward the airport.

As you enter the airport, you plaster a cheerful smile onto your face. "Good morning!" you cheerfully exclaim to the people around you. You stride to the meeting room, taking a cup with you. Approaching the coffee pot, you begin to fill your cup. As you fish out the lid from your bag, a piece of paper catches your attention. "See you soon," the words on the small yellow note read.

You furrow your brows in confusion; it was definitely a note from your kitchen. Yet, you couldn't recall writing it or being given it. Dismissing the thought, you decided it probably meant nothing. You twist the lid on your cup and walk away, placing your belongings in your employee locker before making your way to your work area, ready to start your shift.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking down. As you settle into your seat, Ethan bursts through the door with a look of urgency. You roll your eyes affectionately and shake your head, "You're getting closer each time." Jason, a friend of yours, chuckles as he slides into a seat with a remark, "That's a record."

Ethan takes a seat next to you, joined by Jason. You smile at him as you speak, congratulating him on his new addition to their family. Ethan's mouth drops slowly open with surprise. "How did you find out?" he asks, dumbfounded.

You laugh heartily, "Good news spreads fast.” Jason smiles at his friend, “I'm happy for you," he says encouragingly. Ethan turns to Jason, puzzled. "I thought you and Rochelle were taking the boys to Murrieta?" he questions. Jason nodded in affirmation. "We are. Rochelle is heading up early today. I'll join them after my shift." You playfully pout and express your wish. "I want to go on a vacation," you say wistfully.

Mr. Sarkowski calls the group together, "Listen up, everybody. It is that time of year again. We have Contraband Bingo running. Five bucks per card. No cash, no card, no exceptions. The list includes gummies, dildos, vibrators, knives, and bullets. Everything gets its square."

You shake your head as you pick up a card. "This should be fun," you say with a touch of sarcasm. You stand up and bid farewell to the guys. "See you out there, fellas." You exit the room, making your way to your position at the metal detector.

The energy in the air changed as people began to flood into the airport and gather in clusters. You turn to Lionel and grimace. "Are you ready to face the most difficult people in the world?" you ask, bracing yourself.

Lionel chuckles heartily, "Darling, no one can have a bad day with a smile like yours." You stand there, taking in Lionel's kind and encouraging words. The stress of the day slowly begins to melt away.

You watch as Ethan approaches from behind and takes a seat at the scanner. You raise your eyebrows skeptically. "So, I guess the boss is letting you test out being in charge today, huh? On Christmas Eve?" you respond, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. Ethan chuckles sheepishly, "Well, someone has to oversee the checkpoint, right?" he replies with a hint of amusement.

You respond, "Good luck to you," a slight smile on your face, as you pat his back reassuringly.

The day started normally, with the usual bag inspections happening here and there. Yet, the mood among the travelers was tense, they were all on edge. You put forth extra effort to spread some holiday cheer, brightening up their day with your infectious smile and friendly banter. You shared a few jokes with some individuals, attempting to ease the tension in the air.

You overhear Mr. Sarkowski mentioning your cheerful demeanor on a bingo card. "Looks like '(y/n) being overly cheerful' is the next item to be checked off," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ethan allows a bag through without issue, and you pass through the metal detector effortlessly. You compliment her. "I love your hairstyle," you say, particularly fond of her blue streaks. "Thanks," she replies with a smile, retrieving her belongings from the security scanner. She glances down into the scanner's sorting bin and furrows her brow. She pushes the bowl towards you, apologetically. "Um, sorry, this isn't mine," she says, with a hint of concern.

You peer inside and notice a pair of earpieces lying at the bottom of the container. It seems like someone else left them behind. You nod at her and respond, "Thanks for letting me know. Happy holidays!"

You lift the earpieces and present them to Ethan. "Lost and found?" you ask, holding up the items in question. Ethan looks at the earpieces and nods. "Yeah, lost and found," he replies.

As you prepare to place the earpieces in the designated drawer, Ethan steps in and halts you, "Hold up." He stops you in your tracks. You regard him with a puzzled expression as you watch him glance at his phone. Almost instantly, your phone vibrates deep within your back pocket. The words "left ear. now." appear on your screen, emanating from an unknown number.

You turn to Ethan, a puzzled expression on your face, as he holds out his hand and demands, "Give me the right one." You hand Ethan the right earpiece before placing the left one in your ear.

“Okay you two, today is a day that you’re going to remember for a very long time,” a voice speaks through the earpiece to you. A voice suddenly speaks through the earpiece, filling the air with a cryptic message. You glance around anxiously, searching for the origin, while Ethan appears just as lost. "But if you handle it right, you’ll have a chance to forget it," the voice continues, leaving you both baffled.

You voice a tentative greeting through the earpiece, "Hello?"

The voice echoes once more, "One bag, that’s all.” Ethan gazes at you, a puzzled expression on his face. "Excuse me?" he repeats, perplexed.

The voice asserts, "One bag. You’re going to let it through. That's the deal. That's what's gonna happen." Ethan snickers softly, "Nice try, Eddie. I hope you rap better than you prank or (y/n) and I am out two bucks each." His tone is laced with humor, and you both chuckle at the suggestion.

You observe that Eddie appears not to be the culprit. Turning to Ethan, your eyes widen with fear as you murmur, "It's not Eddie." Once more, the voice continues, "A smart one you are, (y/n). Eddie is currently in lane one, driving his inaugural Maybach.”

A wave of unease washes over you as you become increasingly aware of the gravity of the situation. "Just relax, (y/n), okay?" The traveler's voice assures you, adding, "You're too pretty to have a breakdown before noon."

The voice directly addresses Ethan, explaining the situation: "Soon, one of my associates will step into your line with a boarding pass for Northwind Flight 1850, a nonstop flight to JFK. It's your job to ensure that his bag gets through the scanner without any issues." Ethan reacts to the request with skepticism, asking, "This is a joke, right?"

The traveler's voice returns with a calm tone, asking, "Is anything I've said funny?" "No," you reply quietly, knowing that the situation is far from a joke. The voice continues, conveying a hint of frustration, "You weren't my first choice, Ethan. You're not supposed to be where you are today."

As the voice speaks your name, the words that follow send a chill down your spine. "However, (y/n), you were exactly my first choice." "Why's that?" you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation. The voice responds, "I’m a good judge of character." The gentle, reassuring tone of his words sticks in your ears, evoking a strange sense of comfort.

The thought of being observed by this mysterious individual brings forth a question: how long had he been watching you?

You gather your courage and ask the question on your mind, "What's in the bag?" The answer to your question comes from the traveler, "Diamonds out of Papua New Guinea."

Ethan's skepticism is evident as he declares, "Bullshit." The voice responds with a matter-of-fact tone, "Okay." Ethan's observation reveals his skepticism, as he remarks, "You answered too quickly."

The traveler's words strike a nerve, causing you to tense up. "Yeah, maybe that's because knowing won't change anything," the voice continues, "and I hope I don't have to execute someone close to either of you to prove it." The traveler then makes a chilling observation, speaking your name in a matter-of-fact tone, "Your family's coming in on the one p.m. flight, isn't that right, (y/n)?"

The mention of your family's arrival, coupled with the stranger's knowledge of this information, has left you frozen in your tracks. You gather the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on your mind, "Who are you?"

The man's voice maintains a nonchalantly casual tone as he continues, "I'm just a traveler headed home for the holidays, like everyone else. If we met at the grocery store, I bet we'd be having dinner with each other tonight, but we're meeting like this, and I'm telling you how this goes, sweetheart. Now, keep your voice down and do exactly as I say." Ethan interjects, seeking confirmation, "And you're watching us right now?"

The response comes through crystal clear, "Yes I am." Ethan discreetly pulls out his phone, his fingers dialing the number "9-1-1." "What am I doing?" he mutters to himself, his tension escalating. Your hopes for a quick resolution are dashed as the stranger continues their unsettling revelation, "Nora Parisi. Twenty-seven, recently promoted to manager of Northwind Operations."

You exchange a horrified glance with Ethan, both of you shaken by the stranger's comprehensive knowledge of your lives.

"Hang up now, or Nora dies," the traveler calmly states, his threat hanging heavily in the air. Ethan's shock turns to disbelief as he exclaims, "What did you say?"

The traveler calmly repeats his threat, "My people have a Barrett M82 sniper rifle pointed at her head. Hang up the call..."

Fear for your friend grips you as you rush toward Ethan's phone and hastily cancel the call, your own heart racing with anxiety. The tone of the traveler's voice is almost patronizing as he praises, "Good. See? Good judge of character. Now, take Ethan's phone and yours and lock them in the lost and found."

As you secure the phones in the lost and found bin, Ethan responds in a composed manner, "I accept. Just be cool, okay?" The traveler continues calmly listing the consequences, "Today won't be easy, but it'll be simple. When the plane departs at five forty, you are free to live your life.

If the bag gets flagged, Nora dies. If you pull my associate, your mother dies. If you talk to the police, I skin your cat. If anyone opens the bag..."

You release a sigh, acknowledging the threat with a nod. "Okay, we understand," you reply, your voice tinged with trepidation. The hint of genuine concern laces your voice as you implore, "Just please, don't hurt anyone." The line goes dead, and you can’t help but shiver a little in the aftermath of this disturbing situation. You look at each other with a mix of astonishment and anxiety.

The traveler's voice returns with a gentler tone, attempting reassurance, "I'm not going to, sweetheart. Not if you just listen to me." You nod obediently, forcing yourself to continue with your duties despite the tremors of fear that course through your body. "I'm listening," you reply, your voice quivering slightly. The traveler's voice responds, a note of satisfaction in his tone, "Good because I'm watching."

The traveler's voice interrupts, but to your surprise, he seems to be addressing you directly. "So, you were a volleyball player in college. Majored in hospitality. Now you're... a failed actress?" A mix of defensiveness and determination laces your words as you reply, "Not failed. I'm still trying."

The traveler's tone takes on a hint of condescension as he comments, "Right, right. That's cute. I could see you in some rom-com, kinda like this. Don’t you think?" You bristle at the traveler's sardonic tone, but deep down, his description hits a sore spot. He seems to be aware of your ambitions and insecurities all too well. Your response comes out more forcefully than you intended. "No. Not like this," you insist, emphasizing the fact that your hopes and dreams are not something to be mocked so lightly.

The traveler's tone becomes almost mocking as he points out details from your life, "Oh come on, your bookcase says different. So many suspenseful romances, you're practically in one right now." The realization that this man has been inside your home sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to murmur, "So you've been in my home."

“I have,” The traveler confirms your realization with a flat, matter-of-fact tone, his intrusion into your personal space adding an extra layer of discomfort to the already tense situation.

The thought of the stranger's presence in your home, potentially while you were unaware, fills you with a sense of violated space. You venture a question, your voice barely above a whisper, "Were you there this morning?" A moment of uneasy silence follows your question as the traveler contemplates his response. Finally, he speaks, his tone measured and calculated, "Did you see me?"

A chill runs down your spine as you hesitantly reveal your unease, "No, but... I felt…" Your voice trails off, unable to articulate the strange sensation of being watched. The traveler's words hit you like a slap, revealing that not only had he been in your home, but he had observed you in your most intimate moments. "You look good doing your morning yoga," he says.

The traveler's blunt comment elicits a mix of embarrassment and irritation, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks. "Shut up," you mutter, your cheeks burning with a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment.

The realization that this stranger has invaded your privacy in such a profound way is unsettling, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You can't help but feel a sense of violation as you struggle to come to terms with the knowledge that you have been watched, not only in your home but also in your most vulnerable moments.

You find yourself grappling with a torrent of emotions as the traveler's words ring in your ears. This situation, this entire scenario, is wrong and dangerous. But despite your best efforts, an image begins to form in your mind - the face to match the voice that is commanding you with such authority. In your mind, you imagine a handsome visage, strong and capable, its features framed by a determined, almost arrogant expression.

The sudden snap of a man’s fingers snaps you back to reality, causing you to jolt slightly. Shaking away the thoughts and images that had momentarily consumed you, you focus your attention on the man before you, his urgent tone snapping you back to the present moment. "Hey, come on! I’ve got somewhere to be!" he exclaims impatiently.

The traveler, as if sensing your agitation, speaks to you in a gentler tone, "You seem tense." The change in his voice is almost comforting, providing a slight respite from the mounting tension. Your response comes out as a scoff, the frustration and fear building inside you evident in your voice. "Wonder why," you reply with biting sarcasm, your tone laced with disbelief at the traveler's apparent obliviousness.

The traveler lets out a low hum of approval upon hearing your sarcastic retort. "I like women with a sense of humor," he tells you, a hint of amusement in his voice. Your frustration continues to show in the way you address the traveler, your voice laden with annoyance. "Not helping," you mutter. The traveler's attempts at humor and nonchalant banter only serve to grate on your already frayed nerves.

The traveler transitions the conversation abruptly, his tone becoming slightly more relaxed. "Then let's talk about something else. Tell me about your holiday plans," he prompts, seemingly eager to change the subject. The traveler's earlier statement about knowing everything about you comes into focus, his claim serving as a reminder of the extent of his knowledge about your life. "I thought you knew everything about me," you respond dryly, the sarcasm evident in your tone.

The traveler nonchalantly confirms your suspicion about his knowledge, revealing that he has indeed been paying close attention. "I do, but I like to hear you talk," he says, his tone dripping with subtle smugness.

You release a weary sigh, resigning yourself to the knowledge that resistance is futile. "My family is flying in for the holidays," you continue, your words tinged with a mix of resignation and anticipation. The mention of your family elicits a curious response from the traveler, his interest piqued by the casual revelation. "Are you excited?" he asks, his tone betraying a hint of intrigue.

Despite the traveler's evident interest, your response is blunt and non-committal. "Not really," you respond, your lack of enthusiasm evident in your voice. The traveler seems momentarily surprised by your response, a hint of disappointment creeping into his tone. "Why not?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by your nonchalant attitude towards the upcoming holiday.

Your honest response reflects the strain between you and your family, the traveler sensing the disappointment and hurt hidden beneath your words. "Because they just think I’m wasting my time," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation and a hint of bitterness.

The traveler, now aware of the strained relationship with your family, lets out a soft hum of understanding, his tone sympathetic. "That can’t be easy," he remarks, his words laced with unexpected empathy.

The traveler's question takes you by surprise, his interest in your career ambitions evident in his words. "So tell me, what's your plan? Name in the big lights?" he inquires, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and... admiration.

The words flow easily from your lips, the passion and determination evident in your voice as you share your earliest dreams and ambitions. "I’ve wanted to be an actress since I was little. Nothing else has ever really caught my attention," you explain, your words filled with a mixture of determination and nostalgia.

You glance over at Ethan, noting the way he subtly speaks into his Apple Watch. A flicker of curiosity mingled with a hint of intrigue passes over your features as you attempt to piece together the situation. Ethan continues speaking, his voice steady and controlled. "They got dogs and..." he murmurs, his words trailing off meaningfully.

The realization hits you like a wave, causing a surge of fear and uncertainty to wash over you. Not only are you worried for your safety, but now you also feel a strange sense of attachment to the unknown traveler on the other line, and the thought of potentially losing this connection with him is strangely unsettling.

Confusion and conflict wage a silent battle within you, your mind a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts. The traveler's voice breaks through the chaos in your mind, his words both surprising and oddly reassuring. "Let's cancel the text," he suggests calmly, a hint of authority in his voice.

You release a heavy sigh of mixed relief and regret as you watch Ethan cancel the text. Despite the uncertainty that gnaws at your insides, you can't help but feel a strange sense of reassurance in the traveler's words and tone.

The traveler's voice carries a hint of urgency and authority as he addresses Ethan, his words demanding immediate compliance. "Attaboy. Now, stand up walk over to the drawer, and put the watch in there next to your phone. We're off to a real bad start here," he dictates, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

The traveler's voice turns to Ethan again as he questions his trustworthiness. "This won't work if I can't trust you. Understand?"

Ethan, ever the realist, nods in response, his words carrying a sense of grim determination. "You can trust me," he assures.

The traveler's question lingers in the air, his attention now solely focused on you. "What about you, honey? Can I trust you?" he repeats, his voice almost gentle, as if seeking a glimpse into your soul.

The words leave your lips with such ease and honesty that it almost surprises you. "Yes. You can trust me," you assure him confidently, your voice conveying a mix of sincerity and a sense of loyalty. You can't explain why, but you genuinely believe that you and the traveler are on the same side.

The traveler's voice carries an undercurrent of warning as he continues to address both you and Ethan, his words a stern reminder. "Now, I've given you two warnings, and the next time, there's gonna be consequences. Do you understand me?"

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a sense of finality and seriousness seeping through. Despite the fear that lingers, you can feel a sense of commitment to following his instructions and living up to your promise of trust.

The traveler's words, addressed directly to you, hold a hint of condescension mixed with genuine concern. "You're smart (y/n). Yet, you still seem unhappy. You can steal what happiness you can when you can. Or just stay on autopilot for the rest of your life. I can help you with that."

His words cut straight to the core of your struggles and insecurities, a sharp reminder of the dissatisfaction that gnaws at you daily. Yet, there's a subtle glimmer of understanding and a hint of a challenge in his voice, as if he sees something in you that you haven't fully recognized yourself.

Your mind works diligently to piece together the puzzle of the traveler's surroundings, using the subtle background sounds as your guide. As the sounds coalesce into a coherent picture, your gaze scans the bar, searching for a familiar face.

Then, your eyes come to rest on a man sitting at the bar, wearing a black jacket and a black baseball cap. It could be a coincidence, but something about him catches your attention. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his solitary form, the subtle details of his attire matching your mental image of the traveler.

The question leaves your lips, with curiosity, and a hint of suspicion in your tone. "What are you trying to say?" you ask, your gaze unwavering as you try to gauge the traveler's intentions and the significance of the man at the bar.

The moment hangs in the air, the tension palpable as you await his response and the revelation of his hidden motives.

The stranger's words echo in your mind, a mix of flattery and pragmatism in his tone. "You're smart. You know, the smart ones find a job that pays the most money for the least amount of work. And they spend the rest of their time doing whatever makes them happy."

You can't help but think that he knows you even better than you know yourself. His observation feels uncanny as if he's peering into your innermost thoughts and desires. You find yourself considering his words, the truth of his statement resonating with your own yearning for a better work-life balance.

The question slips from your lips, an attempt to gain insight into the traveler's own philosophy and lifestyle. "Is that what you do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued by the idea that this stranger has it all figured out.

You await his response with anticipation, eager to hear if his advice is based on personal experience and whether his words hold any truth or hypocrisy. The stranger's words, spoken with a hint of confidence and a touch of invitation, leave you momentarily speechless. "I think you'd be surprised with how well I live. I could show you," he says.

For a moment, you are captivated by the possibility of glimpsing into this mysterious stranger's world, a world that seems so different from your own mundane reality. Curiosity and a hint of intrigue battle within you.

Ethan's sudden intervention snaps you out of your reverie, his actions stopping the moving belt and prompting your confused question. "What are you doing?" you ask, frustration creeping into your tone as you try to make sense of his actions.

Your furrowed brows betray your confusion, your attention now fully directed towards Ethan and his unexpected interference. The frustrated passenger's voice cuts through the tense atmosphere, his impatience evident in every word. "Does it take a doctorate to read a computer screen? Let's go," he repeats, his tone tinged with irritation.

Ethan, seemingly unfazed by the passenger's impatience, calmly slides the man's bag down to you. "Bag check," he mutters, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your hand reaches for the bag, the weight of the responsibility evident in your movements, but they are slow. You wanted to avoid opening the bag.

Ethan addresses the man with a professional tone, requesting to see his boarding pass. "Sir, could I see your boarding pass, please?" he asks.

The man in front of you nods, pulling out his boarding pass and passing it over to Ethan without any hesitation. The tension in the air grows as you await the outcome of the interaction.

Ethan speaks with a professional tone, addressing the man by name. "Mr. Herter, I need to conduct a quick inspection. If you prefer, we can use a private room."

Ethan's decision to inspect a public area puts the entire situation at risk, the potential consequences hanging heavily in the air. The traveler's urgency and impatience only exacerbate the predicament, adding another layer of tension to the already tense scenario.

Ethan's gaze falls upon you, as he watches your actions, waiting for you to open the man's bag. However, you stand frozen, paralyzed by fear and disappointment at the traveler's silent reproach. Your hand hovers over the bag's zipper, but your heart races, and your mind races with conflicting thoughts.

Your voice trembles with anxiety and uncertainty as you express your doubts about the necessity of the inspection. "I really don't think it's necessary," you murmur, your words tinged with fear and a trace of defiance. Ethan's eyes don't leave you, his gaze locked onto your face.

Ethan pushes the bag down further, his tone firm but professional. "In that case, I'll have a law enforcement officer run your boarding pass while I search. It'll save time," he states.

As you observe the scene unfold, you notice Lionel using a black light to scan the boarding pass. You watch with growing curiosity as the words appear, invisible to the naked eye until illuminated by the black light. "Sneaky sneaky," you think to yourself, the cleverness of the hidden message sinking in.

Your mind is conflicting with itself, torn between the fear of the traveler being caught and the strange feeling of wanting to protect him. "He's a criminal," you remind yourself, "He should be caught." Yet, despite that, there's a part of you that strangely doesn't want that to happen. Your emotions are a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty.

Your frustration bursts forth in a forceful question directed at Ethan, your emotions running high. "What the fuck, Ethan?" you demand, your voice betraying a mix of irritation and worry. You're still trying to process the events that unfolded, the conflicting emotions and thoughts swirling inside you.

Ethan's casual shrug only adds fuel to your frustration, his nonchalant attitude seemingly at odds with the seriousness of the situation. "You're acting like this isn't a big deal," you point out, your voice tinged with annoyance.

You attempt to justify your perspective, "I just know how to follow the rules. You're going to get someone hurt," you argue, your concern evident in your words. Ethan's lax attitude towards protocol and the potential consequences of his actions is infuriating and alarming.

The traveler's voice filters through, his words carrying a mix of intrigue and allegory. "There's a story I once heard about a tribe in the Serengeti…" he begins, drawing your attention to the story he's recounting.

As you listen, you also notice the sound of movement in the background, as if the stranger is walking around the crowded area, apologizing to people as he passes by. "Excuse me," he casually says, his voice almost lost amidst the hustle and bustle of the airport.

The traveler's voice continues, painting a vivid and unsettling picture. "So, when night fell, they crept into the man's hut and slit the throats of all three children." His words hang heavily in the air, the story's violent turn chilling you to the core.

Suddenly, a woman's scream pierces the air, causing a ripple of panic to spread throughout the area. Lionel collapses to the ground, and the scene devolves into chaos, with people calling for a doctor. Amongst it all, you catch a glimpse of a man in a black jacket and hat, the realization hitting you like a shot.

The man stands up, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment, his smirk sending a shiver down your spine. “We need a doctor!” He calls out in false panic. It was him, the man you had been talking to all this time. He slowly begins to walk away from the chaos, leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. You watch him leave, the confusion and shock evident on your face, his smirk lingering in your mind like a haunting memory.

The urge to follow the man, to go with him, is stronger than you expected, his presence having created a strange connection in your mind. His fearlessness, his way with words, and his commanding demeanor make him seem almost unreal, like a character straight out of a book you've read. You debate with yourself, torn between the instinct to run and the inexplicable desire to be with him.

The airport staff swiftly removes you from your station in the wake of the commotion. Sarkowski, your supervisor, instructs you to take a break, suggesting you grab a coffee or take a walk. You comply, still feeling shaken and shocked by the event, and the thought of taking a break to clear your head seems like a good idea.

As you follow Sarkowski's instructions, you can't help but think about Lionel, and the fact that he was such a kind man, always looking out for everyone, even you. You feel a mix of sadness and disbelief as the weight of what happened starts to sink in.

You're walking towards the break room to try and gather your thoughts when suddenly, you find yourself pulled into a nearby storage room. The door closes and locks behind you, your back pressed against the hard surface of a body, their hand covering your mouth, muffling any sound.

Fear and panic well up within you as you're unable to move or speak, your heart racing with the realization that you're trapped in a vulnerable position.

The voice of the traveler, now identified as the man who had pulled you into the storage room, speaks softly into your ear, his tone calm and almost soothing.

"Relax," he whispers, his words carrying a hint of reassurance. You feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and despite the circumstances, a strange sense of comfort washes over you, the panic within fading slightly.

The traveler, his hand still firmly covering your mouth, asks you calmly, "I'm going to remove my hand. Are you going to scream?"

You feel the pressure slightly lessen, yet his hand remains in place, waiting for your response. The urge to call out for help lingers in the back of your mind, but a strange sense of trust in him holds you back.

You manage to shake your head slightly, the movement barely perceptible, but still conveying your intention to stay compliant. Your heart continues to pound in your chest as you await his next move, a mix of anticipation and tension coursing through you.

The traveler seems satisfied with your response, his hand slowly lifting away from your mouth, though you can feel his body remaining close to your back.

The traveler's voice breaks the silence, a tone of concern evident in his words, "You alright?"

You can sense the sincerity in his question, and a moment of realization washes over you. This man, who had just pulled you into a storage room, was asking if you were alright. Your mind grapples with the conflicting emotions coursing through you.

The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them, a mix of accusation, anger, and confusion present in your tone. "You... killed him."

The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air, the atmosphere in the small storage room practically suffocating. The tension rises as you await his response, your emotions conflicting with the strange bond you've established with this stranger.

You manage to turn around to face him, creating a small distance between the two of you. The storage room suddenly feels even more cramped, the air thick with tension. Your eyes meet his, a mixture of confusion, fear, and curiosity swirling in your gaze.

The stranger regards you with a cool, almost casual demeanor, his eyes studying you intently as if trying to gauge your reactions.

The stranger's words, spoken with a hint of nonchalance, leave you stunned and confused. "I don't know about that," he says, his tone matter-of-fact, "Ethan knew the simple rules."

You struggle to comprehend the words he's saying, the nonchalance in his delivery not matching the gravity of his actions.

The stranger's response, a simple admission of his normalcy, catches you off guard. "I'm not some cartoon villain. I'm just a regular guy," he reiterates, his words tinged with a hint of vulnerability and almost... honesty.

His statement, so different from the image of a cold-blooded killer, leaves you bewildered. You struggle to reconcile this seemingly ordinary man with the events that have unfolded.

His features, now so close to you, appear more defined and complex. His sharp, blue eyes, framed by a straight nose and slightly disheveled hair creeping past the edges of the black cap, create a captivating visage.

You can't help but stare at him, your gaze taking in every detail, trying to discern the depths beneath the surface.

The corners of the man's lips curl upward, forming a subtle smirk. He can see you studying his features, and the smirk in his eyes suggests that he doesn't mind the attention.

You break eye contact, realizing you've spent too long studying his features. With a glance away, you attempt to recover your composure, trying to hide the fact that you find him intriguing.

The man's fingers, gentle yet firm, guide your face back towards him, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. As your eyes meet his, a strange mix of feelings washes over you - fear, curiosity, and a strange sense of connection, as if his gaze holds some sort of power over you.

He stares deeply into your eyes as if searching for something, the silence in the storage room almost deafening. The soft question escapes your lips, the single word hanging in the air with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. "What?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

The stranger doesn't answer immediately, his gaze holding onto yours as if he's carefully considering his next words or actions. His fingers remain on your chin, his touch feeling both soothing and electrifying at the same time. There's a strange intimacy in this moment, a connection that defies logic and reason.

His words, spoken with a hint of tenderness and concern, make your heart flutter slightly. "Just making sure it’s okay," he repeats, his tone filled with a subtle s incerity.

As you look into his blue eyes, you can't help but feel a mix of unease and attraction. Part of you wants to pull away, to free yourself from his grip, but another part of you craves the intimacy of his gentle touch.

Before you can even react, the stranger's lips are on yours in a sudden rush of emotion, capturing your lips in a surprisingly gentle yet fervent kiss. The kiss is intense, filled with a mix of urgency and a strange tenderness.

Your eyes widen in surprise as the kiss sends a jolt of electricity through your body, the sensation both unexpected and exhilarating.

For a moment, the world around you fades away, replaced by the feeling of his lips against yours, his hand still cradling the side of your face. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, and your entire world seems to narrow down to this one brief connection, as if time and space have ceased to exist.

The soft moan that escapes your lips, a sound of both surrender and pleasure, seems to fuel the passion in the kiss. You allow yourself to lean into him, the contact between your bodies both comforting and intoxicating.

The stranger responds by deepening the kiss, his hand on your face moving to the back of your head, pulling you closer to his strong frame.

The intensity of the kiss grows as he pulls you closer, his hand now woven through your hair, holding you securely against him. The stranger's body presses against yours, the closeness and the heat between you both sending a wave of electricity coursing through you.

Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions, a mixture of confusion, confusion, and a strange sense of surrender. You feel both out of control and strangely secure in his embrace.

The stranger's words, spoken against your lips in a low, rough whisper, break the spell of the kiss. Even amidst the intensity of the moment, you can sense a hint of reluctance in his voice as he speaks to someone you can't see.

"Alright, alright," he murmurs, his tone a mix of annoyance and resignation. You feel his lips linger against yours for a moment longer before he slowly pulls back, leaving you feeling both bewildered and wanting more.

The stranger's words ring through the air, a mix of encouragement and a hint of endearment. "Stay sharp. Days almost over, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice slightly softer than before.

Despite the casualness in his tone, the nickname "sweetheart" resonates within you, adding another layer of confusion to the mix of emotions swirling inside you. You can't help but feel a mix of disappointment and curiosity as he prepares to leave, the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips.

He disappears as quickly as he has arrived, leaving you standing in the small storage room, your mind reeling from the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. The memory of his kiss, the touch of his body, and the sound of his voice linger in your mind, the events of the past minutes playing over and over again in your head.

You're left with a swirling mix of confusion, arousal, and an inexplicable desire to see him again, the mysterious stranger leaving you with more questions than answers.

The coffee in your hand feels strangely comforting, a small reminder of normalcy amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

You try to rationalize his actions, convincing yourself that it must have been nothing more than a distraction. The kiss was likely a means to take your mind off the situation, to throw you off balance. But despite your attempts to dismiss it, the feel of his lips against yours, and the memory of his touch, refuse to fade from your mind.

You return to your place at the bag check, outwardly appearing composed and focused, but inwardly, your mind is preoccupied.

Jason approaches, taking a seat at the scanner nearby, and you can't help but furrow your brow, something about his presence makes you feel on edge. You question him about Ethan's absence, curiosity piqued.

"Isn't Ethan scanning?" you ask, your voice filled with a mix of confusion and suspicion. Jason replies with a matter-of-fact tone, explaining that Sarkowski instructed him to take over for Ethan. His words hang in the air, yet the sense of unease doesn't fade.

The thought crosses your mind, a sense of uncertainty creeping in. If Ethan isn't on the scanner, how is the bag going to go through without issue?

Your eyes dart around, searching for the traveler, and you spot him a noticeable distance from Ethan. The suspicion grows, and you speak into your earpiece, a sense of urgency in your voice.

"We've got a problem," you murmur, your words barely carrying through the earpiece.

The traveler halts in his tracks, turning to look at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. Then, he responds with a hint of amusement, a mixture of humor and sarcasm in his voice. "Are we fighting already?" he asks, his words carrying a subtle challenge.

Your words hang in the air, “Ethan’s been kicked off the scanner.” The stranger's gaze remains on you, his eyes flicking to the scanner where Jason sits and back, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

“Then I guess Ethan’s got a problem to fix,” The stranger's words hang in the air with a touch of sarcasm, yet there's a hint of concern in the undertone. His gaze lingers on you, as if waiting for your next move or any other piece of information you may have to offer. The clock seems to tick slower as the tension builds, the weight of the situation pressing on your shoulders.

Ethan returns to the area, having received the instruction to return to the scanner. You shake your head, your words a firm reminder. "You have to get back on the scanner," you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument.

The low, smooth voice of the stranger reaches your ears, his words causing a strange flutter in your chest. "That's my girl," he murmurs, the praise and endearment in his tone sending a wave of conflicting emotions through you. Your cheeks warm slightly, and you try to hide your response, though he seems to have noticed your reaction, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

The stranger's words, addressed to both you and Ethan, carry a hint of warning and a subtle threat. "She's right, you know?" he says, his tone a mix of amusement and a hint of concern. "If you're not on that machine by the time our man gets there, you're in breach. Then maybe I don't start with Nora," he continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone, the mention of Nora adding a note of weight to his words.

Ethan's response to the stranger's words is immediate, his voice filled with defiance. "I don't care what you do to me," he declares, a stubborn determination evident in his tone. The stranger's gaze lingers on Ethan, his expression unreadable, his reaction masked by a neutral façade.

The stranger's words carry a hint of threat, yet they're also tinged with a strange sense of compassion. "Who said anything about you?" he retorts, his eyes locked on Ethan, the tension between them palpable. "Your friend there is coming off the machine. You can decide if it happens your way or mine," he repeats, emphasizing Ethan's choice in the matter, a subtle way of manipulating the situation and Ethan's actions.

Ethan, quick to react, swiftly devises a plan, framing Jason for drinking on the job. The wheels in his mind spin, and he effectively places himself back on the scanner, his quick thinking and manipulation skills coming into play. Despite the strange situation, you can't help but be impressed by his ability to adapt and think on his feet.

The stranger's voice filters through your earpiece, his instructions clear and concise. "Red baseball cap, three o'clock, by the bins. That's our guy," he murmurs, his tone serious and focused. Your eyes dart to the specified location, your gaze falling on the man with the red baseball cap by the bins, the subject of the stranger's words.

Ethan's question, "There are 250 people on that flight. You gonna kill 250 people?" is met with the stranger's chilling response, a simple and matter-of-fact "Mmm-hmm." The words hang heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in. You can't help but feel a chill run down your spine, the reality of the threat setting in and the weight of the stranger's words leaving a foreboding feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Ethan's question, "Why are you doing this?" echoes in the air, seeking an answer from the stranger. The stranger looks at Ethan, his gaze unflinching, his expression unreadable.

Your voice interjects, defending the stranger against Ethan's accusation. "He's not the doer, Ethan," you say with conviction, your words carrying a note of certainty. You can feel the stranger's gaze on you, his eyes studying your reaction.

As the stranger's words linger in the air, a question forms in your mind: What is this payment the stranger is talking about? You can't help but wonder what could be his purpose behind it, and more intriguingly, his interest in you. Is he working for someone, and if so, who? The idea that your involvement might be a part of his plan sends a chill down your spine, but at the same time, there's a strange sense of anticipation that gnaws at you, an unexplainable curiosity about your role in all this.

Your mind churns with questions, your thoughts attempting to make sense of the stranger's actions. Were you simply there to ensure the bag didn't get searched, or was there a deeper purpose to his presence and connection to you? You can't help but wonder if there's more to his actions, his interest in you, and his involvement with this entire situation.

The uncertainty and the unknown fuel your curiosity, yet also stirs a sense of unease within you.

The man with the red baseball cap passes through, his bag rolling smoothly onto the conveyor belt. Ethan, his gaze fixed on the screen, seems uneasy.

You allow the bag to pass with a polite smile, wishing him a pleasant day, but underneath it all, your thoughts are consumed by the tension in the air. Your actions seem normal on the surface, but inside, you're grappling with the knowledge of what's hidden within the bag and the implications of letting it through unchecked.

"I have something stronger if you need it," A quiet, gentle voice breaks the silence, offering a solution to your headache. You look up, finding the stranger standing a short distance away, his eyes watching you intently.

Your voice carries a hint of exhaustion mixed with curiosity, your tone slightly defensive as you question him. "What do you want now?" you ask, your words carrying a mixture of weariness and intrigue.

The stranger's lips curve into a subtle smirk, his eyes seemingly studying your every reaction. He takes a step closer, his gaze unflinching, as if he can see straight through you.

The stranger's response is casual yet tinged with a subtle hint of intimacy. "Well, I was going to keep you company on your lunch," he says, his tone almost indifferent yet also carrying a touch of tenderness.

His words catch you off guard. Keeping you company is unexpected, but there's a part of you that doesn't dislike the idea. You can't deny the strange connection you feel towards him, a connection that seems to defy rationality and reason.

You question him, your words tinged with a touch of sarcasm but also tinged with a hint of challenge, "Do I have a choice?"

The stranger chuckles softly, his gaze fixed on you. He leans against the lockers, his body language casual but his eyes sharp and observant, as if he's carefully studying your response. The stranger's tone is firm and matter-of-fact as he responds with a single word. "No."

His definitive answer lingers in the air, the lack of ambiguity in his tone making it clear that he has no intention of giving you a choice in the matter. Despite his sternness, however, there's a subtle glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as if he's enjoying the subtle power dynamic at play.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of determination and a subtle challenge as you state, "You're buying."

The stranger looks at you, his smirk growing slightly as he nods in agreement. "Fair enough," he says, his tone holding a hint of amusement. It seems like he's accepting your demand, a small concession to your assertiveness.

You both sit across from each other in silent anticipation, your lunch in front of you untouched. The air between you is filled with a strange blend of curiosity and anticipation.

The stranger's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes scanning your face, studying your expression. He seems to be waiting for you to break the silence, to make the first move in this unusual lunch encounter.

You hum softly, your head tilting in a nod of acknowledgment. There's a moment of silence that follows as if both of you are gathering your thoughts. The stranger's eyes are fixed on you, his expression calm yet somewhat unreadable, as if he's trying to gauge your reaction to his cryptic statement about his occupation.

He regards you thoughtfully, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. "You can ask, you know?" he repeats, his tone a mix of curiosity and a subtle challenge.

Your eyes meet his in a silent exchange. It's as if he's inviting you to question him, to dig deeper. You can feel a strange sense of anticipation, a mix of curiosity and doubt filling your mind as you consider whether or not to press him further.

You hesitate, your words carrying a mix of uncertainty and a hint of intrigue. "I don't know if I want to," you admit, your tone tinged with a touch of wariness. The stranger's lips curve into a slight smirk, a subtle amusement in his eyes.

“If you don’t know, then I can’t do it again, and if you don’t ask, I can’t tell you.” The stranger's words hang in the air, the simplicity of them yet hinting at a deeper layer. He leaves the decision in your hands, allowing you to choose whether to pursue this deeper connection or not.

His challenge lingers, a quiet demand for you to make a choice. You're left wondering if you want to take the next step, to learn more about this mysterious stranger and his cryptic job, or if you'd rather keep the distance between you.

You admit, "I am curious, anyone would be," your words carrying a sense of vulnerability.

The stranger's eyes are on yours, his expression tinged with a hint of pride as if he's pleased with your admission. He leans forward slightly, his gaze unwavering, waiting for your next question.

The remainder of the unexpected kiss sends a shiver down your spine, the memory of his lips flooding your mind. You speak softly, your words tinged with a mix of confusion and intrigue. "You... kissed me."

The stranger doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of amusement and anticipation. In the quiet, he waits for your next move, eager to see where this conversation leads.

Your comment hangs in the air, the weight of the moment evident in the silence that follows. The stranger's eyes hold yours, the intensity of his gaze making it clear that he's waiting for your next words, or possibly your next action.

It's almost as if the entire world has stopped, the only sound being the beating of your heart in your chest.

The stranger's lips curve into a slight smirk, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, I did, and you liked it," he says, his tone almost challenging, as if daring you to deny the truth in his words.

The warmth of embarrassment creeps up your cheeks, his words hitting their mark, leaving you feeling flustered. The stranger's smirk widens as he watches you, a chuckle escaping him, amused by your reaction.

He leans back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with the effect his words have had on you. For now, he enjoys the silent moment, giving you time to recompose yourself.

The question hangs in the air like a cloud of curiosity, your voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a genuine desire to understand. "Why did you?" you ask, your words holding a touch of vulnerability.

The stranger's smirk softens into a subtle smile, his eyes studying yours intently as if considering his next words. He leans forward slightly, his voice carrying a subtle edge of sincerity. "It was a moment of impulse," he admits, a hint of vulnerability peeking out from beneath his usual demeanor.

“How long have you been watching me?”

The stranger's eyes flicker with a mix of emotions, his gaze holding yours with a depth and intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. He considers your question for a moment as if assessing whether or not to be completely transparent with you.

"A while," he finally answers, his tone a mixture of honesty and mystery. He holds your gaze, waiting to see how you'll respond to this revelation.

Your question, "What's your plan here?" hangs in the air, your curiosity and uncertainty evident in your tone, “besides getting a bag in a plane.” The stranger leans back in his chair, a thoughtful look in his eyes as if pondering how much to reveal.

His response comes a moment later, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and a strange sincerity. "I'm still figuring that out," he admits, his words leaving you to wonder about his intentions and goals. “It really depends on you.”

Your question, "Me? What do I have to do with this?" echoes in the air, your curiosity and confusion evident in your voice. The stranger's expression softens, his gaze locking onto yours as if seeking understanding and cooperation.

The stranger's words, "Your answer. When this is all over I'd like to know if you'd get that dinner with me I mentioned earlier," hang lightly in the air. His tone is nonchalant as if he's simply curious about your response.

His words, though seemingly casual, carry a depth of sincerity that can't be ignored. He watches you, his eyes fixed on your face, as if waiting for an answer, or a sign that you'll accept his proposal.

“You’re going to murder 300 people and you’re asking me to dinner?” The stranger chuckles dryly at your statement, the sound a mix of amusement and acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. "Yes," he responds, his tone carrying a mix of sincerity and a hint of dry humor.

He seems unfazed by the contradiction as if he's fully aware of the dark nature of his actions and the paradoxical nature of his proposal. His gaze remains fixed on you, waiting for your response, the tension in the air palpable.

“Why me?”

The stranger studies you for a moment, his gaze unwavering. He seems to be searching for the right words, his expression hinting at a mix of intrigue and sincerity.

"Why not you?" he finally responds, his tone carrying a subtle mix of admiration and mystery.

The stranger's words echo in the air, the admission of knowledge about your home and personal details taking you by surprise. It's unsettling to realize that he knows so much about you, yet his expression remains calm and his tone remains casual.

The stranger's presence and the knowledge he has of you are strangely disquieting, the familiarity he shows is both intriguing and unnerving at the same same time. He seems to share some similarities with you, the revelation leaving you feeling a mixture of curiosity and caution.

“I’m going to assume you have my number.” The stranger's eyes follow you as you stand up, his gaze unwavering. Despite the mysterious aura surrounding him, his expression holds a hint of disappointment, as if he had hoped for a different response. He seems to take a moment to process your words, a mix of curiosity and contemplation evident in his eyes.

He nods slightly, acknowledging your statement, his lips curving into a slight, almost enigmatic smirk. "I do have your number," he affirms, his tone calm and almost nonchalant, hiding any deeper feelings he may have.

“Well when you get done here, see if it works. Might surprise you.”

The stranger watches you with a mix of amusement and a subtle challenge in his eyes.

Despite his confidence and power, he seems to appreciate your assertiveness and the way you hold your own.

He responds with a nod, his smirk growing slightly, his tone carrying just a hint of amusement and anticipation. "I will," he says, his words holding a subtle promise of future contact.

You walk away with a smirk, feeling the weight of the stranger's gaze on your back. The mixture of curiosity, uncertainty, and anticipation lingers in the air, leaving you with questions and a tingle down your spine.

As you leave, his eyes follow you, his gaze lingering on you, as if committing your form and your subtle smirk to memory. He seems to find your assertiveness and confidence intriguing, and a subtle smirk plays upon his lips, a mixture of respect and fascination in his gaze.

You return to your position at the checkpoint, only to find several LAPD officers filing in, their presence unexpected. Your gaze flicks to Ethan, confusion etched on your face. You ask him, "Did you say anything?" your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

Ethan shakes his head in response, his eyes fixed on the officers. He seems puzzled by their arrival as much as you are, and his confusion is evident in his expression.

The announcement rings out through the checkpoint, the TSA's words echoing in the air, their message clear and firm.

The words "random bag checks" hang in the air, adding a new layer of uncertainty and anxiety to the already tense atmosphere. You watch as people react with apprehension and confusion, their eyes glancing around them in frustration, wondering if they'll be selected for a check.

Sarkowski, the supervisor, swiftly becomes flustered by the turn of events, his voice carrying a tone of urgency. "Everyone meet in the office. Right now!" he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The employees scramble into action, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry. They know the importance of following Sarkowski's instructions, and they quickly gather in the office, their gazes fixed on him as they wait for further explanation.

The stranger's voice comes through your earpiece, his words carrying a tone of anticipation and a hint of tenderness. "Walk slowly, honey. I need my eyes," he murmurs, his voice a quiet but noticeable contrast to the tense atmosphere in the office. You feel a shiver run down your spine, the combination of his words and the strange tenderness in his voice causing a mix of confusion and anticipation to swirl within you.

You follow the stranger's instruction, your eyes seeking out the room on the left. Your gaze lands on a room tucked away, seemingly out of sight from the main activity.

"Alright, see that room on the left?"

You nod as you walk ensuring that you understand which room he means. Your body is tensed, your voice full of anticipation and a touch of excitement, despite the circumstances.

“Go inside,” the stranger's words a quiet command that you follow without hesitation. With a glance around to ensure no one is watching, you quietly make your way toward the room on the left. Your heart beats a little faster, a mix of anticipation and caution coursing through your veins as you approach the room.

You enter the room and close the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place filling the room with a sense of privacy. As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, you see the stranger standing there, his presence dominating the space. The room feels claustrophobic and intimate, the air between you charged with tension and anticipation.

The stranger studies you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation, his eyes flicking over your face as if taking in every detail. There's a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and his gaze lingers on you for a moment, almost as if he's enjoying this moment of anticipation. The silence in the room is heavy, the only sound being the steady beating of your heart in your chest.

He leans closer, his body pressed close to yours. The warmth of his breath tickles your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His words, "You're a brave woman, defying the rules just for me. I like that," send a wave of anticipation through you, and his lips brush against your ear, causing a surge of pleasure to surge through your body.

You feel trapped, the weight of his body and the closeness of his presence stirring something within you.

Your heart raced as his hand slid up your waist, his touch sending waves of heat through your body. You wanted to resist, to ask more questions, but all you could do was gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his mouth claiming yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting of sin and temptation. You felt his hand slip into your pants, his fingers skillfully working your wetness. You moaned into his mouth, unable to resist the pleasure he was offering.

His fingers teased your clit, circling and rubbing, driving you wild. You squirmed in your seat, desperate for more. He broke the kiss, his breath hot on your neck. "I want you, right here, right now," he growled, his voice filled with desire.

You couldn't deny the raw hunger in his words. With trembling hands, you unbuttoned your blouse, revealing your lace bra. He pulled it down, exposing your breasts. His mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking and teasing, while his fingers continued their magic between your legs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your body arching as an intense orgasm ripped through you. He didn't let up, his fingers working you relentlessly, milking every last drop of pleasure. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

"That's just a taste of what I can give you," he whispered, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "But you have to be quiet." You leaned back, your body trembling. You wanted more, but you also feared the consequences. "Who are you?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

He smiled, his eyes full of mystery. "I told you, I’m just a regular guy." You couldn't shake the feeling that you had just embarked on a dangerous and exhilarating path. The man's touch, his words, and the thrill of the forbidden had awakened something primal within you. You wanted to know more, to uncover his secrets, even if it meant dancing with danger.

He presses his lips to yours, the kiss slow and sensual, leaving you with a flutter in your stomach. Then, with a subtle smirk, he buttons up your shirt, his nimble fingers working efficiently to correct your indiscretion. Once done, he unlocks the door and pushes you out.

His lips curve into a slight smile, his eyes holding a mix of amusement and affection as he watches you go. He knows he has left you with a mix of confusion, anticipation, and a lingering sense of pleasure.

You re-enter the meeting room, finding it nearly empty as the meeting appears to be over. Ethan's eyes narrow at you, his gaze intense and filled with suspicion, as if he can sense that something is off about you.

You feel the weight of his gaze on you, the suspicion in his eyes making you slightly uneasy. Despite your attempt to maintain a cool exterior, you can't help but feel slightly exposed, as if he can see right through you and detect the effects of the stranger's touch still lingering on you.

You grab your MDT and log in, your fingers moving swiftly over the keys as you access the list of people with flagged bags. As the list appears on the screen, your eyes scan the names, and you see that 50 people are marked for bag checks.

Your mind immediately switches into professional mode, the task at hand demanding your focus. You begin to navigate through the list, planning and prioritizing the checks based on your training and protocol. All bags besides the one you would make sure would board.

The woman's voice over the PA system announces the random bag checks, listing off the names of the selected passengers. Carrie Pierce, Cameron Figgs, Mateo Flores, and Alison Mallory are among those called to have their bags checked. You can't help but notice the list, the one particular names of passengers echoing in your mind. It was the associate.

You turn to Ethan, your tone tinged with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "Ethan, what did you do?" you ask, your eyes narrowed slightly as you study his face for any signs of guilt.

He shakes his head, his response firm and defiant. "Nothing," he insists, his eyes locking onto yours as he denies any involvement. "I didn't move." He stares at you with suspicion, his gaze searching for any indication of your involvement.

"Why'd they pull my guy?" the traveler asks, a touch of impatience in his tone.

Ethan responds calmly, "It's a lottery system." His words are confident, but you can sense a hint of tension beneath the surface.

You call him out, your gaze fixed on him with a mix of suspicion. "You're lying," you assert, your voice filled with conviction.

Ethan looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of defiance and a subtle challenge. He doesn't deny your accusation, his silence speaking louder than words.

Ethan leaves his position, his movements rushed and determined. You notice his departure, your instincts telling you that something is off. You follow him, your steps hurried and deliberate.

As you chase after him, you try to catch his attention, trying to stop him from ruining whatever plan may be in motion. You can feel the tension building, your thoughts racing as you try to anticipate his actions.

As you rush after Ethan, you feel a strong grip on your arm, a firm tug pulling you back. You turn, finding yourself pulled against the traveler's chest, his hand gently holding onto your wrist.

"Stop, stop," he whispers, his voice a gentle command that sends a shiver down your spine. His tone is both soothing and assertive, a mixture of insistence and concern.

The traveler speaks, his tone is soft but firm, his words a mix of reassurance and a request. He holds your wrist gently, his eyes searching yours, a silent plea for cooperation in his gaze.

His words, "I'll handle him, but I need you, to just go back and do your job. Can you do that for me, honey?" hang in the air, a mixture of trust and a subtle command. You can feel the weight of his request, and the implications of his words sink in.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your head as he whispers, "That's my girl. Days almost done." The words linger in the air, a mix of encouragement and something else that you can't quite place. As he pulls away, his fingers delicately removing your earpiece, you feel a strange mix of anticipation and vulnerability.

The weight of the moment lingers, his actions leaving you with a mix of anticipation and a subtle flutter in your chest.

Your thoughts, consumed by the stranger, make it increasingly challenging to maintain your professional demeanor. The anticipation of seeing him again, the concern for his safety, and the strange sense of connection you feel all swirl within you.

You can feel the effect he has on you, how he has taken over your thoughts and consumed your mind. The need to see him again grows stronger, an almost primal desire to be near him again.

A quiet, but insistent, voice breaks the silence, capturing your attention. A detective from the LAPD stands beside Sarkowski, their tone is urgent and professional. The words, "I need a line to LAX Security Tower and I need to talk to Ethan Kopek," fill the air, their gravity clear.

Sarkowski turns to you, his gaze inquisitive and expectant. "Where's Ethan?" he asks, his tone tinged with impatience and concern. You can feel the weight of their stares, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for your response.

Your mouth opens, but for a moment, no words come out. The silence stretches, as your mind struggles to find an answer, your thoughts racing to process the situation. The detective's gaze seems to intensify, her suspicion growing with each passing moment of your hesitation.

Another employee, hearing the conversation, intervenes, their tone casual and informative. "Yeah, you looking for E? He's on his way to sorting." Their words add a touch of normalcy to the tense atmosphere, though their casual tone seems mildly out of place.

The detective's gaze flicks from you to the new speaker, her suspicion shifting momentarily before returning to you. Sarkowski voices his concern, "What is he doing down there? The guy's been acting wiggly all day." The words hang in the air, a mix of confusion and suspicion.

The detective takes charge, her tone firm and authoritative. "Shut this checkpoint down now. And you," she points to you, her gaze fixed on you, "I need you to speak with you first." You feel the weight of her words, the intensity of the situation suddenly escalating. The room seems to close in, the tension palpable.

The nerves take hold, your voice a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty. "O-okay," you reply, a subtle tremble in your words. Your hands are slightly clammy, and your heart beating a little faster. Despite your attempt to remain composed, the weight of the situation and the intensity of the detective's gaze make it clear that this is far from a routine inquiry.

As you make your way down the hallway with the device, you pass the sorting area, your mind becomes consumed with a mix of worry and determination. The thought of the stranger, his face, his voice, his presence, all swirling in your mind as you desperately try to figure out a way to prevent him from getting caught.

The weight of the situation presses on you, the knowledge that something important, something significant, is at stake. It's a strange mix of emotions, the fear for his safety, the desire to keep him from harm, and the uncertainty of what you can do to help.

Your words, "Can I just make sure-" are cut off mid-sentence by the officer's firm response. "No," she says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ethan suddenly appears, his movements swift and frantic. His eyes meet yours, a mix of desperation and urgency in them. He quickly speaks, his words tumbling out, "He still has it, he still has it!" The message hangs between the two of you, a mixture of panic and a sense of understanding passing between you.

The detective, standing nearby, watches the exchange intently. Her gaze narrows as she asks Ethan, "Are you Kopek?" Her tone is sharp, her words carrying a mix of suspicion and curiosity. She's trying to piece together the puzzle before her, her focus fixed on Ethan, waiting for his response.

Ethan's desperate plea echoes through the air, his words a mix of desperation and urgency, "I know this looks bad, but you have to let us go, I have to get to my girlfriend!" His tone is pleading, a mix of fear and anxiety lacing his voice. The detective watches as Ethan tugs at you, her expression a mixture of skepticism and anticipation, her eyes analyzing Ethan's behavior and words, trying to assess the situation.

Ethan tugs at you, his movements urgent and determined, pulling you down the hall. As he speaks, his words carry a sense of urgency, his tone conveying the gravity of the situation. "He's trying to take out Northwind 1850. All passengers," he informs you, his voice carrying a mixture of concern and urgency.

The thought of the stranger's safety, his fate hanging in the balance, and the potential consequences of your actions feel immense. It's a moment of deep contemplation, and the choice you make could have far-reaching consequences.

Ethan instructs you to stay with Nora, his voice carrying a tone of urgency and importance. "Stay with Nora," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. The responsibility of protecting her, of ensuring her safety, adds another layer of weight to your already stressful situation. You nod in agreement, your mind now divided between protecting Nora and ensuring the stranger's safety.

Ethan quickly boards the plane, his eyes scanning the bags, a mixture of urgency and determination in his gaze. He searches through the bags, his movements efficient and focused, until he finally finds the bomb amongst the other bags. The discovery solidifies the gravity of the situation, the threat of the bomb now out in the open, its presence a grim reality.

As Ethan tries to disarm the bomb, another man, a stranger in a black cap, suddenly calls out, "So you're Ethan!"

The unexpected voice, the man in the black cap, catches Ethan off guard. The sudden appearance and the question add an element of confusion to the already tense situation, the stranger's identity and intentions still unknown. The man in the black cap, though different from the stranger you encountered earlier, seems just as determined to ensure the bomb's mission is carried out. He appears ready to sacrifice himself if necessary, a grim resolve in his eyes. The knowledge of this adds a new layer of urgency and danger to the situation, as you realize the extent to which the attackers are willing to go.

Ethan, with a mix of determination and resourcefulness, manages to fight for his life and save the entire plane. He seals the bomb and the associate in a vacuum chamber, a desperate act that ultimately results in the death of the associate and the neutralization of the threat.

The danger is averted, the bomb's threat contained, but the price for Ethan's victory is steep, leaving the weight of the situation and its consequences hanging heavily in the air.

You tell the police your story, sharing the events of the day and the manipulation you faced. You're cooperative, sharing all they wanted to know, the words flowing out of you.

Even as you speak, a sense of loss weighs on you, the realization that you may never see the stranger again settling in your chest. Despite the danger and uncertainty of the situation, a part of you feels strangely drawn to the stranger, his presence and words lingering in your mind.

A part of you entertains the idea that the stranger was right, that if you truly wanted to, you could forget him, erasing his presence from your thoughts and memory.

Your life's trajectory has shifted, moving in a direction that you never anticipated, but that you've worked hard for. Your family visits for the holidays, their gratitude and appreciation for you leaving a warmth in your soul that you'll never forget.

The local news station reaching out to invite you for an exclusive interview is the spark that ignites a fire within you, leading to a string of phone calls and auditions. Finally, your father secures you a genuine agent, and you land your first major role in a movie, a dream that you've been chasing for years.

As each day passes, you find yourself constantly glancing around corners, half-expecting to see the stranger lurking there. The anticipation lingers, a subtle undercurrent in your daily routine, but the stranger never appears, the corner remaining empty.

Weeks turn into months, and the memory of his presence, his words, and his actions begin to gradually fade, the intensity of your expectation slowly waning with each passing moment.

You return to your new house, a cozy home nestled in the picturesque hills of California. The house is a testament to your success, a symbol of all you have achieved since that fateful day at the airport. Yet, as you step into the quiet solitude of your home, a strange sense of loneliness lingers in the air.

A mix of shock and disbelief washes over you as you enter your bedroom and flip on the light, finding a man sitting in the chair across from your bed. But it's not just any stranger - it's the stranger you've been unable to forget.

Your heart skips a beat, the surprise making your breath catch in your throat. You stand there, frozen in place, your mind struggling to comprehend his sudden presence in your most private space.

His voice cuts through the stillness of the room, the words carrying a mixture of accusation and nostalgia. "You changed your number," he says, his tone a blend of disappointment and understanding.

The words make your heart skip a beat, the weight of his statement hanging in the air between the two of you. You feel exposed as if he's laid bare your attempts to move on, to forget him, and yet he doesn't seem overly upset by it.

You respond, your tone is defensive and slightly sheepish. "I had to," you say, the words carrying a hint of regret and a touch of guilt.

The truth is, you had changed your number for your own sanity, as a way to distance yourself from the memories and feelings that he brought up within you. Yet, now that he's here, you realize that a part of you never truly let go.

He stands from the chair, his movements are deliberate and measured as he closes the distance between you. Each step brings him closer, the anticipation growing with each passing moment, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As he approaches, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, his presence commanding your attention, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. His brown hair, shorter now, still slightly disheveled, framed his handsome face. You couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to devour you as if he was seeing you for the first time, yet with an intimate knowledge that made your cheeks flush.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely audible. You had changed your name, moved cities, and started a new life to escape him. But here he was, proving that his infatuation knew no bounds.

"I've been looking for you," he said, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, and you felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. "Never got my answer on that dinner."

You took a cautious step back, your heart racing. The last time you were together, things had ended abruptly, leaving you with a mix of emotions. He had been possessive, and controlling, but there was an undeniable passion that kept you entangled in his web.

"I... I don't understand," you whispered, your eyes darting around, searching for an escape route. "How did you find me?"

He chuckled a deep, throaty sound that sent a pleasurable tingle down your body. "I've been keeping a close eye on you, waiting for the right time."

His words sent a chill down your spine. You remembered the countless nights you woke up to his intense gaze through your bedroom window. The flowers you'd find on your doorstep, with no note, but you knew they were from him. The feeling of being watched, and followed, had become a constant in your life.

"You can't just show up like this," you protested, though your voice lacked conviction. A part of you was intrigued, drawn to the intensity of his desire. "I have a life here, a career..."

"And I intend to be a part of it," he interrupted his voice firm yet laced with a hint of desperation. "I won't let you slip away again."

As he spoke, his eyes trailed down your body, taking in your curves, the soft swell of your breasts beneath your thin blouse. You felt exposed and vulnerable, yet a tingling warmth between your thighs betrayed your unease. His desire was palpable, and it awakened something primal within you.

"You know you want me too," he whispered, taking another step forward, closing the distance between you. "You've always had. From the first time, I whispered in your ear, you wanted me.”

His words were like a spell, breaking down your defenses.

"I..." You trailed off, your eyes searching his, trying to find the strength to resist. But his gaze held you captive, and you found yourself taking a step forward, closing the gap between you.

"That's it," he murmured, his hands reaching out to cup your face. His touch was electric, sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

His lips crashed down on yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, your initial resistance fading as his tongue danced with yours. His hands traveled down your body, molding your curves, igniting a fire that had been smoldering for far too long.

He pushed you against the wall, his body pressing into yours, and you could feel his hardness through his pants. His kisses trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire, as his hands skillfully unbuttoned your blouse, exposing your heaving breasts.

"Oh, I've dreamed of this," he growled, his hot breath sending shivers across your sensitive skin. His mouth captured a taut nipple, sucking and teasing, while his hands worked their magic lower, sliding beneath your skirt.

Your breath caught as his fingers found the damp silk of your panties, stroking the sensitive folds of your pussy. You were already soaked, your body betraying your attempts at resistance. He knew how to touch you, how to drive you wild, and he took his time, building the anticipation.

"Please," you whispered, your head thrown back, as his fingers teased your clit, bringing you to the edge. "I need you..."

He chuckled against your skin, his breath hot and raspy. "Not yet, honey. I want to savor every moment."

His fingers delved deeper, sliding inside your wetness, stretching and filling you. You moaned, your hips thrusting involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. He added another finger, curling them, hitting that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

"That's it, let go," he urged, his voice hoarse with desire. "Come for me, my beautiful girl."

His thumb circled your clit, applying just the right pressure, and you shattered around his fingers, crying out his name. The orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and boneless against the wall.

But he wasn't done with you yet. He lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his gaze burning with intensity as he stripped off his clothes.

"You're stunning," he whispered, his eyes raking over your naked body. "Every inch of you is perfection."

He joined you on the bed, his body covering yours, his lips claiming yours once more. His kisses were feverish, desperate as if he couldn't get enough. His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of your body, reacquainting himself with your curves and valleys. "I need to be inside you, to feel you around me."

You arched your back, offering yourself to him, your hands tugging at his hair, urging him closer. He positioned himself at your entrance, his hardness pressing against your wetness, and slowly, he began to fill you.

The sensation was exquisite, his thick length stretching you, filling a void you didn't realize existed until that moment. He thrust slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, but soon his movements became more urgent, driven by the heat between you.

"Yes, fuck, yes!" you cried out, meeting his thrusts, your nails digging into his back. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, as he hit all the right spots, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently as he pounded into you, driving you higher. Your cries filled the room, a mixture of pleasure and surprise as he took you to heights you'd forgotten existed.

"I'm close," you gasped, your body tightening around him, seeking release. "Oh God, I'm so close..."

He increased his pace, his hips slamming into yours, his breath hot against your neck. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

His words were like a trigger, and you exploded around him, your pussy clenching and milking his shaft as you rode out your orgasm. He followed soon after, his body tensing, as he filled you with his hot release, groaning your name.

As your heart rate slowed, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close, his arms possessive around your waist. You lay there, breathless, your bodies glistening with sweat, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held now that he had found you again.

"You're not getting rid of me this time," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You knew that this was just the beginning, and as you looked into his determined eyes, you realized that this time, you did not want to escape after all.

[nemisisnemi]

Happy Birthday Nemi!

Happy birthday to the most annoying and nuke-able sona ever!

This will function as his birthday post since I'm too busy with finals to properly celebrate </3

everyone's least favorite kitchen exploding mf is getting a full body design!

yes, Nemi will finally have one of those twst oc intros :O

can you believe that it's their 3rd official redesign already? It felt like just yesterday when Nemi became my blog's "face"/brand, and now I'm already improving upon the initial design :,)

nemi rambles ab old art + some unposted Nemi art below!

This was Nemi's first appearance on tumblr and also my pfp when first starting out! It was made in reference to something with @spookyavenuestreet's Augustino/ram ram!

I also think i drew this piece over a year ago? It's really shocking on how much my art style has changed since then

Nemi's first ever design! I like how you can immediately tell it's one of my older pieces from my art style-

I'm glad it changed since there's too many sparkles and kind of difficult to tell what they're looking at

ONTO THE NEXT PIECE!

These two pieces are references to how Nemi likes to break into Diasomnia (via the window) to visit Augustino! I'm pretty sure Spooks has a corresponding piece of art to this piece lmao

Oh past Nemi, you had no fear and just fought with Diasomnia students just for funsies :D and also Malleus too apparently-

Now this one! It's a reference to how before all the lore was really "coherent" and just fun shit, they didn't get along with Sebek despite being friends with Augustino!

The hands were originally an idea from spooks! something something mythology?

It got scrapped in the end tho. Was fun for the short bit it lasted!

Ah this one!! :D This was my pfp for the longest time before I changed it to the one I have right now! (That'll change whenever I finish making my 3.0 model)

It's the Nemi you're all probably familiar with! Purple hair, a mischievous smile, and with the iconic hand positioning lmaoo

My current pfp! (for now) The hair got more blue/indigo with pinkish tips :D

There's different versions, but i never ended up using them :(

Here are the different versions! I somehow lost the initial file and couldn't be bothered to put my eye moles back in

Now some art I don't think i ever posted!!

It's a traditional piece! I messed up on the hair since I didn't have the right colors :(

It's a cute simple piece of Nemi messing with Leona nui in class! As you can see on the pieces of paper, Nemi doesn't really pay attention in class...

You can typically find them in detention if they don't have any class or a shift at the Mostro Lounge!

More traditional art! and also more Leona nui bullying (affectionate)

It's a lot harder to draw on paper after only doing digital art for a while. This piece and the one before were pieces I drew during my senior yr of high school!

I think the only piece as of all the drawings so far that weren't made during high school is my current pfp! That piece was made during the summer after I graduated (well, more like skipped my graduation and just collected my diploma after but still-)

HI3RD AU!!!!

Here are some of my HI3rd Au Nemi pieces! Anything related to that au is just angst- I still don't feel like explaining the lore in detail so I'll just rapid fire it:

-Junqiao is a herscherr

-Junqiao possessed Nemi (via gem)

-Junqiao is a homewrecker bc he slowly made Leona fall for him while possessing Nemi's body

-Nemi got forced to become a valkyrie against their will after regaining a bit of control from Junqiao

-end game plan is for Nemi to give up their body and consciousness over to Junqiao since they no longer have anything to really "fight" for as Leona loves Junqiao now instead of them :D

-all Nemi wanted was a simple life, no valkyries, no honkai, just a simple life by Leona's side (but even that is a pipe dream eh?)

More Hi3rd au pieces :D

The first piece got worked on a bit more after I posted it originally! And I dont think I ever posted anything about the other one? I might make it into a fully rendered piece if I ever get the chance and motivation!

Spirit Animal AU! on RIOFY

this is by far the happiest Nemi has ever been in any Aus I put them in

whore era with those exposed shoulders and chest opening /j

rapid fire lore:

-something something pacts n shit with Leona & Junqiao

-learns to be more open with themselves in fashion choices via the whores (Leona & Junqiao)

-destructive trio poly qpr! (Nemi, Leona & Junqiao in this au)

-eventually gets forcibly "sibling'd" after meeting Viz & Yuhua ( @twistedwonderlandshenanigans & @distant-velleity 's ocs)

And this is my most recent drawing of Nemi! (besides the 3.0 model redesign) I never posted this bc I ended up hating how the full body looks. The body pose is just really awkward and stiff; a complete 180 from how it looked in the sketch phase

Sorry none of the pieces are really in order from oldest to most recent! :( It's kinda difficult to track down which ones came first for the older pieces, but I think you can kinda tell by the hair color, hair length and most obviously; my art style

Nemi's hair has been slowly shifting from purple to a more blue tone! It's also slowly getting longer, but I think it's going to settle around the shoulders!

MOOTS' ART!!

we start off strong with spooks' art!

.....THE JAR (sobs) it was a joking comment ab shaking or putting Augustino in a jar. Then spooks decided to literally draw it. ahaha....

another spooks art! this was for ram ram's birthday! and Nemi made an (uninvited but welcome-)appearance :D

This piece is an art req that got answered! The one who drew this is the very very lovely: @amatsuchan-eiliniel !!!!

THANK YOU AGAIN AMATSUUUUUUUU YOU COOKED AND AIUGHDGHJFGGKGBFHDHF NOM NOM NOM

thank you for not forgetting Nemi's eye moles despite the fact that i forgot to add them when drawing initially hgfdhbfhg-

Now onto some silly ones from the Leona simping serv- i mean The Prince's Uprising zine server :D

These are by soru from The Prince's Uprising zine server... hi @le-monchou

its still all very funny but also terrifying just thinking about how you drew Nemi dying in a fucking glue trap lmao

AND FINALLY: RATMI.

This is by the lovely @aprityormarj

something something nemi ratatouille and this was made

yes. this is Nemi as a rat. Ratmi at your service~

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That finishes it off for Nemi's bday post!

Hopefully I remember to schedule this post for December 7th bc that's when my sona's birthday is!

Irl nemi's bday on the other hand isn't until the 26th! I'll hopefully be making a birthday piece for both Nemi and irl nemi by then!

[mrsriddles-blog]

Her Girl | P.P

Pairing: Slytherin Fem Reader X Pansy Parkinson

WC: 2k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, kissing, angst, drugs…

Summary: Unsure of how either of you feel and not wanting to risk losing one another as a person in each other’s lives, you continue to dance around the truth of your guys’ relationship.

A/N: I am so sorry! It has been ages since I’ve actually posted a piece of writing! This is a draft and I’ve seen all the requests, I’m working through them slowly, but surely! College and work have been a real pain in the ass, so I’m so sorry guys! I’ll probably be switching up the plan I had originally just to try and get some more work out and posted. I’ll also probably do away with the song fics until I have more time on my hands! I’ll try to finish the ones already planned and of course if a request comes up, but it’s super time consuming!

"Hey, who's that?" Lorenzo asks, pointing at you.

You sat alone at a table in the courtyard, your green robes sticking out to your own house. They've never noticed you before and clearly you were new if you were sitting at the Golden Trio's table.

"I don't know, but I feel like we should rescue her before the Golden Trio gets to her." Draco says, looking in the direction of the glaring Gryffindors.

"Too late." Mattheo mumbles, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Excuse me. Who are you sitting at our table?" Harry asks.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is your name on this table? No, it's not. So it doesn't make it your table. Now get the fuck out of my face." You snap.

The boy who lived was taken aback by your hostility, along with your icy tone. He puts his hands up, deciding not to fight with you. He had no idea who you were anyway, only that you were an enemy by your house colors.

You watch as he backs away, a familiar look of fear in his eyes. You wait until the three fools turn around before focusing back on the letter to your father. You had found you hated Hogwarts as you've faced nothing, but bullying and not to mention you were still friendless after a month. 

You weren't one to give up, but this time...you weren't wanting to fight.

There wasn't anything here for you. No one even in your house has noticed you. You're barely noticed by the professors. It's like you don't exist because you're not apart of their clicks. You pull a cigarette out, lighting it in hopes it'll ease your nerves.

You pack up your belongings, tired of the chatter as you begin walking to the Astronomy Tower in hopes for some peace.

"Sorry, didn't know anyone was up here." You mumble, seeing a girl with long brown hair and green eyes.

She wore no robes, but she wore a green tie—one that hung loosely around her neck. You start to make your way to turn to exit as she speaks.

"No! Wait! Come sit." She says, her cheeks flushing red at sounding so panicked.

Panicked because she realized she'd been quite a tad bit too long and was just staring, so you had begun to walk away. You were hesitant, but you take a seat next to her.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson." She says.

"Y/N Y/L/N." You murmur.

"I've seen you around. I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself sooner. I assumed it would be overwhelming as I'm sure people were eager to meet you. It's not often we get someone in the middle of the year, let alone our fifth year." She explains.

"You're alright. It's been quite the opposite actually. You're the first person to actually speak to me...and notice me. Although, I'm considering lettering my father to get transferred elsewhere." You admit, putting out your cigarette to light another.

"What? Why?" She asks.

"I've faced quite a bit of bullying since I've got here. Not that I've cared. Typically I'll handle it, but I'm not quite sure who keeps pulling their stunts. And I haven't made any friends. It's been hard." You admit quietly.

"Don't send that letter just yet. You are now my friend. Let me introduce you to my other friends later at dinner. It'll be nice to have another girl apart of the group, oh, and I'll figure out who's messing with you, Y/n/n. I'll handle it." She says, giving you a smile.

"That's okay, Pansy. I'll figure it out sooner if later. It's my problem to sort out anyway." You say, managing a soft smile.

"You can handle it, but I'll also be handling it. Trust me, if I don't handle it, the boys will which means all of them will cast hellfire on the unfortunate bloke. The moment they meet you, you'll be apart of our little family." She says.

"Hey, Pansy? I was wondering if—." You say, before stopping.

She was in a dark green lace bra, wearing a mini skirt as she sifted through her closet. She smiles at you, one that sent your stomach in a bunch of flutters. Your cheeks flush red when you realize you were staring.

"What's up, love?" She asks lowly.

You swallow thickly, your thighs not so discreetly clenching together as a heat ignited in your core.

"I...um, nevermind. Sorry, I can't remember what I was going to ask. Sorry, um for barging in." You say, looking anywhere, but her.

"Hey, what happened to your lip?" She asks, stepping forward until she was in front of you.

She lifts a hand, cupping your face as she runs her thumb across your busted lip.

"Nothing." You mumble.

"This isn't nothing." She scolds.

"It's not that big of a deal, Pans." You mumble, pulling back.

She purses her lips, nodding and you sigh, knowing you've pissed her off. You turn, leaving her dorm as you walk back to your dorm.

There was a party tonight and that was what you had gone to talk to Pansy about. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. You wanted to be bold though, so you began the tedious search through your closet.

"Hey, I wanted to talk with you." Theodore says, slipping in your dorm.

You've settled on an outfit and now you just had to get dress. You start to shimmy your way out of your jeans.

"What's up?" You ask.

"So—oh, hey Pans." He says.

Her eyes were on you as you were half-naked in front of Theodore Nott—one of the two most notorious boys in Slytherin who screwed with girls.

"Oh...when did this happen?" Pansy asks quietly.

"It's not that, Pansy. I've seen her naked like a lot now. Friends only, pinky swear." He says, leaning back on your bed.

You rolled your eyes, seeing she wasn't convinced. You pull on the skirt and look at her.

"I'm gay, Pansy." You say.

"Oh!" She says, her cheeks flushing red.

"You really think this girl would let me sleep with her and let me see her naked on a daily basis? No! She'd kick my ass." He snorts.

"I-I've got to finish getting ready. Sorry! I can't remember what I was going to ask...actually, I do. I'm sorry, I got cold and I iced you out because you weren't comfortable telling me what happened." She says.

"Pans, it was a stupid argument I got into. I shouldn't have listened because I know the truth anyway. It's seriously no biggie. Go finish getting ready. You and I will slay this party, more so you." You say, smiling softly at her.

She smiles, her cheeks flushing red, but she leaves. You look back at your skirt and fix it before pulling your shirt over your head.

"So, that answered my question. One of them at least. But, do you like her?" Theodore asks, unfazed as you take your bra off and pull on the lace bralette that was a dark green.

"Of course I do! She's a great friend...she's been accepting of me since day one and she's been nice despite me having my days sometimes. She's always understanding and I love that. No one has been that way for me. Ever. I've never really experienced the love and care of friends until her...and of course you guys, but she and I are always going to be a little closer obviously." You ramble, pulling on the black blazer.

"I meant in a more than friend way." He says, lighting a cigarette.

You sigh, sitting at your vanity as you straighten your hair, going for a bold look. You settle on a vibrant red lipstick along with dark eyeshadows.

"Yeah, but that won't ever happen, Theo. She doesn't like me that way. Not to mention...I've tried to subtly hint to her only for her to brush past it. I've gotten my hint, so I'm going to be thankful I even have her in my life as a friend." You explain.

"God, you are blind." He mumbles.

"And what are you talking about?" You ask.

"I'm talking about the way she talks about you to us when you aren't around. It's like, she's in some dream. She gets this dreamy smile and look to her eye when she thinks or talks about you. She lights up when you're around. She cares about you, worried when you're having an off day or if you get in a fight. She's just scared to lose you. You are more than her girl than you realize. And what about that fight you got into with that Ravenclaw who was calling her a fag and stuff? That's just being friendly?" He asks.

"You're telling me you wouldn't have fought her for that?" You deadpan, turning to him.

"One, I would have if she was a he as I don't hit girls. Two, is that all you got from what I said?" He asks.

"Theo, I can't lose her. I don't think you realize what that will do to me if I lose her. It's not that I don't want to believe what you're saying. I just don't want to get my hopes up. What if you're looking for the same thing I am?" You ask.

"I guess we'll find out tonight. I heard a certain Gryffindor was going to show her moves on Pans tonight. Just know it's on you for letting her slip away." He says, leaving your dorm.

You frown, looking at your vanity for a moment before finishing up your makeup. You pull on your heels with the snake coiled around the heel as music began to play. You debated on even going to this party.

You went nonetheless, striding towards the bar where you mixed up a drink that was borderline death itself. Your eyes found Pansy chatting it up with Hermione Granger of all people. You frown, not noticing a Hufflepuff sixth year striding towards you.

"I'm Anna!" She calls, sending a flirty smile your way.

"Y/n!" You call, smiling back slightly.

Pansy had tuned Hermione out, her eyes on you before she stormed over to the boys. She smacked Theodore in the head who curses.

"What the hell!? I thought you said she liked me!" She snaps.

"She does! What the hell was that for?" He says, rubbing his head.

"She's talking to that sixth year Hufflepuff! That's what it was for!" She snaps.

"I said she likes you. I even told her that Hermione was going to make a move on you if she didn't. I never said she'd make the move though. You are really important to her, she doesn't want to lose you. She rather have you as a friend than lose you because she doesn't believe you like her." He explains.

"So, she's going to just dance with her? Are you actually listening to whether she likes me or not or are you just a fucking bloke?" She snaps.

"That busted lip is because she got into a fight with a Ravenclaw who was calling you some nasty names. I believe I heard her say something across the lines of don't talk shit about my girl. You can stand here and sulk about her dancing with Anna, or you can go get your girl. Your choice." He says.

Pansy looks at him with malice before relaxing and sighing as a tired look washes over her face. She looks up at you to see you dancing with Anna still.

"I'll handle, Anna. It won't go anywhere obviously, but just so you can whisk her away." Astoria says, taking her pin out of her hair and shaking her curls free.

Astoria was a new friend of the group because of her arranged marriage with Draco, but only the group knew of the arrangement.

Pansy strides towards the dancing crowd and grabs your hand. You look at her as Astoria whisks Anna away. Pansy pulls you off to a secluded corner and sighs.

"I'm a bloody idiot for not realizing how you felt. But, that makes you one too as you haven't realized how I felt." She sighs.

"What?" You ask oblivious.

"I like you, Y/n/n. I have for awhile." She chuckles.

"I...I like you too, Pans. I just...didn't think you would ever feel that way for me." You admit quietly.

"Fucking hell, shut up and let me kiss you." She laughs.

Your cheeks flush red, but nonetheless, you let her pull you in by your hips, your lips meeting her soft ones that tasted like her cherry lipgloss. You smile into the kiss as your guys' guy friends started to whoop and holler for you both. You flipped them the middle finger as Pansy's hands move to your ass.

"She's got her girl." Theodore chuckles.

"The hell they'll be together." Mattheo laughs.

[jadeddangel]

The Owl House x Reader

General Headcannons for The Owl House x Reader

Older!Luz Noceda:

Her love language is physical touch and gift giving

She's a cuddle bug

If your sick or not feeling well she'll refuse to leave your side

The kind of girl to write poetry that doesn't make sense

But you can still tell that she does it cause she loves you

She's a horrible cook but don't tell her that

She buys or makes charms for your staffs

She kisses any kind of small wounds that you have

Luz let out a loud gasp "ay! Mi amor! Tu estas bien? Does it hurt?" Luz asked frantically as she held your hand looking at the literal smallest paper cut on your finger before digging in her pocket and pulling out a small bandaid and putting it over the cut and kissing over the band-aid " all better mi amor!"

"Uhm Luz? Why do you just have bandaids?" You asked confused. Luz straightened her lips into a line "uhm.. a good witch is always prepared?" Luz said questioningly

She buys you themed band-aids from the human realm

she tries to teach you Spanish

She's not the best teacher but you can see her effort

Older! Amity Blight:

Her love language is acts of service and words of affirmation

She's really big on arts and crafts

She likes to make you things

She likes to let your palismans play together

She likes to do things like make your laundry and things

Cause in some part of her mind she thinks it'll make you love her more

She's rather shy with PDA at first

She's a touch starved baby

Ghost and your palisman were cuddled up in a little window hammock that amity had made for them

"Hey amity? Do you think our palismans live eachother like we love eachother?" You asked curiously

Amity blushed a bit "oh quiet take your nap you were so adamant on it earlier" amity said defensively

It doesn't matter if you've been dating for years

She still gets flustered if you say anything too sweet

She shows her love with actions rather than words

So she often makes you food

She's an amazing cook btw

Eda The Owl Lady:

Her love language is quality time and gift giving

She likes giving you shiny things

Like rings, jewels, anything that shimmers or shines really

She doesn't particularly like her curse being around you

But after she makes her piece with it she's fine cuddling you

Whether that's in her harpy form or in her full form

She's starting to realize that it won't hurt you

Eda groaned holding her head. "Eda? Dear? Are you ok? Is the owl bothering you again?" You asked sweetly sitting up in edas nest. Eda sighed and nodded "its just getting worse and I don't know what to do it just.. it's like it wants to be with you? If that makes sense?" Eda tried to explain as you nodded along.

"Yknow, eda I don't really mind the owl.. it's rather sweet after you guys had that heart to heart, so how about you just let it put? And if anything goes wrong I'll have elixir on hand" you reassured the older woman

That night was one of the first of many that eda let the owl interact with you

Raine Whispers:

Their love language is the same as Eda's, quality time and gift giving

They can't really cook anything but eggs

They're so sweet

They really like to make little songs/ lullabies for you

but they're willing to learn anything you'd be willing to teach them

They're not really touch starved

But if you so much as lock your pinkys together they're melting in your arms

They loves you with their whole heart so when they're performing or teaching your the only thing on their mind

In all truth the thought of you probably helped with their stage fright

They gets flustered so easy

Raine was playing their fiddle for their class they were playing the song they had made for you.

Raine finished the song after a few moments before bowing and putting their fiddle away gently

They had a smile on their face at the thought of you in the next classroom over listening to them play... just for you

They always sat and ate lunch with you in their classroom

The Collector:

His love language is gift giving and acts of service

Game nights literally every damn night

He likes to hide your things all over your home

He always takes your petty arguments as a joke

He may not be the healthiest but he's definitely always there for you

He's a cuddle bug

Practically clinging to your side where ever you were

He isn't shy about pda in the slightest

The collector was clinging to your sleeve "nooo don't leave!" Collector whined trying to tug yoy back into the house

You sighed "baby please I'm begging you just let go of me I'll be back soon, I've got a class to teach" you bargained

The collector let go of you gently "fine.." he pouted

He's beyond clingy

It's a problem sometimes but you manage

Older!Hunter:

His love language is acts of service, quality time, and gift giving

He makes you little cravings of animals

Especially wolves

Definitely his favorite earthly animal

He's touch starved

Please give him hugs and kisses

Really likes to hold your hand

His hands are rough and calloused after the years of being a golden guard and then his hobby of carving palisman

He likes to visit earth with you for small dates every now and then

Hunter held your hand gently as he led you through a forest on earth, hunter had been planning this small, somewhat simple date over the past month

Hunter had set up some fairy lights and a picnic deep in the woods, he had been quiet and mysterious the whole walk but soon spoke softly. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you or anything" hunter joked

You laughed a bit but paused as you saw the at area "oh hunter.. this is beautiful "

Hunter smiled and helped you sit down "yea.. just like you" he said sweetly

He was sweet and romantic like this alot of the time

He's corny but it's relieving to know that he really cares for you

[thankskenpenders]

And now for something new

So, here's something I was never planning on doing, but I just couldn't shake the idea... Thanks Ken Penders is gaining a sister blog featuring an entirely different comic franchise!

Introducing... Thanks Steve Ditko, a blog where I read the Earth-616 Spider-Man comics, starting all the way back in the '60s! It's gonna be much more casual and less thorough than how I run things here on TKP, though, which I'll explain in a sec.

If seeing me post weird bits from old Spider-Man comics sounds fun and you need no further info, then just head right on over to Thanks Steve Ditko. But for longtime TKP readers, I know you probably have questions...

Number one: Why?

Spider-Man's always been my favorite superhero, and with the Spider-Verse movies kicking ass and my excitement building for the new Insomniac game, I've been in a Spidey mood. Inevitably, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should actually read the comics that everything else is built off of and see the wildly varying contributions of all the original creators, rather than filtering them through big budget adaptations. If I can power through One Piece and all these other manga with hundreds of chapters, it can't be that hard... right?

And, well, after a few issues I quickly realized that my options were to either clog up my other accounts with random Spider-Man panels for years, or to just make a side blog. And so the side blog was born.

Two: Will this blog replace Thanks Ken Penders?

NO!!!!!!!!!

Okay but prove it

To allow the two to exist side-by-side, Thanks Steve Ditko will have a different format than what Thanks Ken Penders developed. Rather than an in-depth guided tour that critically analyzes every story beat of every issue, TSD will just be a place for amusing panels and brief thoughts as I casually read the comics at my own pace.

If you've seen me make a few tweets about reading Spider-Man recently, I'm basically just moving that to a dedicated Tumblr. It's a place for me to dump these things so that it doesn't fill up my media tab on Twitter for the next decade. (You know, assuming Twitter is still around in a decade.) There will be many issues where I only post two panels that I thought were funny. There will be issues where I don't have anything to say at all. Maybe I'll reach a run that I just cannot get into, and I start skipping around more. Who knows!

This may sound similar to what I thought this blog would be before it blew up. Aside from the simple fact that there's already mountains of Spider-Man commentary out there and therefore less of a void for me to fill, one of the main steps I'll be taking to avoid repeating the past is not enabling an ask box on TSD. I do not need people to ask me to go into ten times more detail on everything. I do not need to write seven essay-length responses to questions about Spider-Man minutiae every day. I do not need a place for people to chide me for not covering certain scenes, issues, or ancillary series.

It also won't have any kind of update schedule. I'm trying to keep it very casual. I'm reading these comics at my own pace, and if I feel like sharing a moment or commenting on something while doing so? It goes there. That's it.

(On the subject of format changes, I'm also listing the issue, writer, and penciller in the body of every post. This is a thing I wish I'd done on TKP so that people didn't misattribute every weird Archie Sonic panel I post to Penders.)

Three: So when will TKP come back from hiatus? You said it'd come back after you finished SLARPG!

I don't know! Sorry. I have a couple things on the backburner right now for TKP, but I'm not sure when I'll get back to proper updates where I read more comics.

I wanted to bring TKP back this year, and that's still possible. The main hurdle is that I want to reread my own archive (again) as a refresher, which is, uh. A lot of posts. I've developed a high standard for myself on here, and I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job right if I forgot half the ongoing subplots and character arcs and didn't bring them up in my analysis. Especially when I'm discussing the work of an author as obsessed with continuity as Ian Flynn. Unfortunately, the nature of this blog means that every time I go on another long hiatus for Life Reasons I have even more comic continuity to catch up on than last time.

(This is a big part of why I'm making Thanks Steve Ditko an extremely casual blog instead of promising to become a Lore Expert on 60+ years of Marvel.)

Mostly I've just been very burnt out this year after having finally finished a video game that took almost eight years to make. I haven't really had the energy for any creative projects, including TKP. But I feel a little bit of a spark here with Spider-Man, so I'm chasing that feeling to try to get back into the swing of blogging about comics - no pun intended.

So, basically, bear with me on this as I start this low-energy side project. But hopefully folks will enjoy Thanks Steve Ditko as its own thing, too.

Look forward to goofy shit like this

[flamingspud]

Now, Cleo couldn't speak for every family, but if they had to take a guess most families wouldn't really have more than one Christmas A&E story, maybe two in the worst cases. Cleo's family had six.

It’s once again Christmas at the Clocker’s house, but this year Cleo is determined to keep anything from going wrong.

Fic under cut

It was midday on Christmas Eve at the Clockers' house, and Cleo was getting ready as they had invited a few people over for a festive party, (the idea hadn't originally been theirs, but now that it was approaching they had to admit it was something to look forward to.)

There was one problem though: her family's record at getting themselves injured on Christmas.

Now, Cleo couldn't speak for every family, but if they had to take a guess most families wouldn't really have more than one Christmas A&E story, maybe two in the worst cases. 

Cleo's family had six. 

The first time was when Joel was eleven, he had managed to swallow one of Jellie's chew toys. In retrospect it was funny as hell, but at the time Joel's distressed squeaks frightened the lot of them.

Next was Scar, when Jellie had managed to bring the tree down on the two of them in a cacophony of screams and smashing ornaments.

The year after that was Grian, who had slipped on an icy footpath and broken his elbow. It had taken them a little longer to bring him to the hospital than ideal, as they hadn't immediately realised it was broken. He still hasn't forgiven them for that one.

Then it was Jimmy, he had reached across the table to grab some more roast potatoes, and his sleeve had dipped just close enough to one of the candles to go alight. They managed to put him out right away and he only had minor burns on his arm, but lets just say they don't have candles at the dinner table anymore.

The year after that… Cleo shuddered at the thought, not wanting to think of that incident ever again.

And finally came last year, when Bdubs ate rat poison as part of a dare.

This year, however, was going to be different, as Cleo vowed that she wasn't going to let anyone get hurt. Well, at least not enough to require professional medical attention. 

Baby steps.

It wasn't quite Christmas yet, but as there would be a lot more people around they figured it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. 

They had just finished cutting up some brownies they had made when their two sons ran in from outside, where they had been having a snowball fight with their friends.

"Mom!" Fourteen year old Bdubs yelled as he ran inside. "Scar maimed me!"

"No I didn't!" Sixteen year old Scar protested, "it was just a snowball!"

Cleo turned to face them, leaving the knife on the counter.

"That's what we thought when Grian broke his arm," she said, "Here, let me see." She then took Bdubs' face in her hands so that she could take a look at it. It was probably fine, but this year Cleo wasn't going to risk it.

Scar rolled his eyes.

"Scar, why don't you put the brownies on the table?" Cleo suggested, their tone indicating that it wasn't a request.

Scar groaned. "Fine."

Once she had decided that Bdubs was fine, she sent the two boys up to their rooms to change into dry clothes.

It wasn't long after that that guests started arriving.

Ding dong.

"I'll get it!" Seventeen year old Joel called, making his way to the front door. Him and his brothers had been to the first to arrive, as always.

When he opened it, who was on the other side but Jimmy's boyfriend-not-boyfriend, Martyn. He supposed Scott was there too.

"Hi," Joel said, somewhat disappointedly. He was hoping it'd be Lizzie.

"Well would you look at that, it's mistletoe!" Martyn, who was nineteen, said, pointing to the headband on his head. A wire stuck out from it, a piece of mistletoe stuck to the end.

It hung right above Scott and Joel's heads.

Seventeen year old Scott shook his head and let out a groan. "Martyn, it's not as funny as you think it is-"

"Ew, get away from me!" Joel exclaimed, cutting Scott off and shoving him away from him. And into an end table. Oops.

"Joel!" Cleo scolded, rushing in from the kitchen. 

"It was deserved!" Joel quickly retorted.

"Still, we don't need anyone getting seriously hurt."

Joel rolled his eyes. "I didn't even push him that hard."

"I'm fine," Scott insisted, righting a photo frame he had accidentally knocked over in his stumble.

"You sure?" Cleo asked, shooting Joel a pointed look.

Scott nodded. "Yep."

"What're we standing around for? Let's go party!" Martyn said, making his way down the hall and further into the house.

The others followed, but not before Cleo could grab Joel by the shoulder. "Don't do something to break any of your necks."

Joel sighed. "Yes Cleo."

"Good."

While this was going on, some of the others were in the living room trying to find something to do.

Fourteen year old Pearl absently grabbed a bottle of water and flipped it. She hadn't thought much of the action, but the others were impressed.

Mumbo, who's also fourteen, scoffed. "Anyone could do that."

"Oh yeah?" Pearl asked, "prove it."

Grian and BigB (both fourteen) were watching him, so of course Mumbo grabbed the water bottle.

He tried to flip it, but it landed on its side.

Pearl was not impressed, but Mumbo was not about to give up.

"That was a warm-up."

He quickly grabbed the bottle and threw it again, and this time it landed upright.

"See! In fact, I can do it twice in a row." He then proceeded to flip the bottle again. He smiled smugly at Pearl.

The girl rolled her eyes, and snatched the bottle from between them. She then proceeded to flip it four times in a row, only messing up on the fifth.

She smiled at him, while he frowned, and before they knew it they were going back and forth to see who could do the most bottle flips in a row while the others watched.

BigB turned to Grian. "Who do you think's going to give up first?"

Grian tilted his head from side to side. "Knowing them it could go either way."

Meanwhile, nineteen and sixteen year old Jimmy and Scar found themselves by the tree, examining the presents underneath it.

"What're you two up to?" Martyn asked, approaching them.

"Trying to guess what we got for Christmas," Jimmy replied, shaking one of the boxes next to his ear. "There's something loose in here."

Martyn crouched down next to the two of them, and Scar scooched to the side to make room for him. 

"This one's from Bdubs," Scar said, picking one up. It had candy-cane wrapping paper on it.

"What do you think you're doing?" The fourteen year old brother in question demanded, seemingly appearing out of nowhere behind them.

"Trying to guess what's in our presents," Scar replied nonchalantly.

Bdubs was not happy with this response. "You're not meant to do that! Those are surprises for tomorrow!"

"It's not like we're going to open them," Jimmy explained.

"Mom!" Bdubs called, "Jimmy and Scar are trying to find out what presents they got!"

"Don't upset your brother," Cleo shouted back from where they were in the kitchen.

"But we weren't even doing anything!" Scar complained.

"I don't care!"

Bdubs' smile made Scar want to punch him in a way that only brothers can, however he put the present back. Jimmy did the same.

He was staring daggers at him when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Joel called, running for the door.

Unfortunately, it was just Etho.

"Hi Joel-"

"Ugh, it's just some loser," Joel muttered, turning away and walking back to the living room without any sort of a greeting.

"Ok…"

"You can hang out with me you know," Scott told him.

Joel made a face at him.

"I thought you were warming up to me after the funfair?" Scott said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"That doesn't mean I like you," Joel said with a huff.

Scott shook his head with amusement.

The doorbell rang again. "I got it!"

This time when Joel opened the door, he saw who he was waiting for. 

"Lizzie! Hey." He leaned on the doorframe to give the illusion of being cool.

"Hi!" The other seventeen year old smiled at him. "Thanks for inviting me."

"It was no problem," Joel responded.

"Hi Lizzie," Scott greeted, suddenly behind Joel.

"Hi Scott," she replied cheerfully, before turning back to Joel. "You didn't tell me Scott was invited."

Joel tried to hide his frown. He had forgotten about him. This proved quite the problem, as he had been hoping to spend some alone time with Lizzie.

"It hadn't come up in conversation."

Joel closed the door behind Lizzie.

"Should we play a game or something?" Scott suggested.

"Sure!" Lizzie agreed.

"I'll see what we have," Joel said, turning and heading for the press where they kept their board games. 

"Excuse me-" he said as he stepped between Pearl and Mumbo's bottle flipping contest.

The bottle Mumbo had just tossed landed on Joel's foot and fell over.

"That's not fair!" Mumbo insisted. "Joel intercepted it!"

"Well you're going to have to start again," Pearl informed him without remorse.

Grian groaned loudly. "For the love of god, can you do something else? You've flipped that thing hundreds of times at this stage!"

"It is getting a bit repetitive…" Pearl admitted.

"You're just saying that because you're in the lead!" Mumbo exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Pearl.

"You could always try doing cooler tricks," BigB suggested.

"Yes!" Mumbo snatched the bottle. "I can have it flip twice in the air before landing, watch."

It took him a couple of attempts as the others awkwardly watched, but he eventually managed to complete the trick.

"Hah. Beat that."

Pearl considered her options before picking up the bottle. "I'm going to flip it with the lid off."

The others watched in anticipation as she took the lid off of the bottle. She took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts, and threw the bottle;

It proceeded to fly into a lamp, knocking it to the floor.

Grian quickly picked up the bottle before it could pour too much water onto the ground, while BigB picked up the lamp.

It didn't take long for Cleo to come into the room after the racket they made. "What are you guys doing?" She exclaimed.

"…bottle flips?" Grian answered sheepishly.

"Hand me the bottle," Cleo said, putting their hand out.

"But-"

"Now."

Grian sighed and gave the half-full bottle to his aunt.

"Thank you."

The teens all watched as she took the offending object out of the room.

"…so does that mean I win?" Mumbo asked hopefully, breaking the silence. 

"Mumbo!" Pearl exclaimed, "I was clearly better than you."

"Were not!"

"Were too!"

"It felt a bit overkill to take the bottle away from us on the first offense," BigB thought out loud, breaking up their bickering.

"That's probably because 'our family has a knack for trying to get ourselves killed on Christmas' or however she puts it," Grian explained, using airquotes to exemplify how ridiculous he thought the whole thing was.

"Seriously?" BigB asked.

Grian nodded. "Yeah… once I broke my arm and it took six hours and thirty four minutes for anyone to believe me."

"Oh. That's…" Mumbo said, surprised.

"I know, I'm truly a martyr."

He then got up to go get something to clean up the water.

Cleo put the water bottle on the counter before going back to join the other adults.

"This is quite the party you have going on here," Etho commented, looking around at some of the Christmas decorations.

"I know," was Cleo's response. 

Etho nodded awkwardly, unsure where to take the conversation from here.

Luckily for him, Martyn intercepted.

"Etho, hi!" He greeted, standing between them.

"Hi?" Etho was realising he didn't actually know Martyn, only hearing of him third hand from Tango talking about Ren and Jimmy.

"I wanted to ask on behalf of Scar and Jimmy if they could try and guess what you got them-"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Bdubs yelled.

"I mean, you said BigB got some of his presents early because his parents are divorced."

"Yeah but Etho's spending Christmas with us so it doesn't count!"

"Guys just leave the presents alone," Cleo asked them, as Scar and Jimmy joined them in the room.

Jimmy raised his arms in the air in frustration.

"That's a shame…" Martyn said. 

He then glanced up. "Oh, would you look at that-" the others in the room moved their eyes up to see what Martyn was referring to- "it's mistletoe."

Bdubs' jaw fell open, Scar threw his hands back and into the air, and Jimmy was coming up with excuses as to how he didn't actually know Martyn, he must've just broken in.

"Um…" Etho glanced quickly between Cleo and the plant attached to Martyns head, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

Cleo took a big step backwards. "No way, not gonna happen."

"That's a shame," Martyn said, before going back to join the others.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Cleo heard Jimmy hiss as they left the room.

As Martyn was shunned from the group for his antics, he went to see what Scott and the others were up to.

"What's going on over here?" He asked.

"Cluedo," Joel responded. He was still annoyed by the fact that Scott was third wheeling with him and Lizzie, but he couldn't come up with and excuse to make him go away.

"Oh, fun! Can I play?" He asked.

"Sure, but you're not being on my team," Scott replied, picking a card to show Lizzie.

"Fine; Joel I'll be with you," Martyn decided, sitting next to him.

"What? No, I want to be on my own…!" Joel insisted.

"We're gonna make a great team Joel, I can feel it."

"You can be with me if you want," Lizzie suggested, patting the ground next to her on the other side of Joel.

"Nah, I'm alright here with my buddy Joel." Martyn put an arm around Joel's shoulder, who was scowling.

A few more rounds were played when a grin formed on Scott's face.

"Oh no, he knows it," Lizzie said as realisation dawned on her.

"Dammit…!" Joel cursed.

"Um- was it Mr. Green in the kitchen with the candlestick?" Lizzie guessed, before looking in the envelope.

She dropped it back into the middle of the table in disappointment. "No dice."

"Ok, Martyn it's down to us," Joel said, looking at his options. They had figured out who did it and where; Colonel Mustard in the kitchen, the only question left being was it with the gun or the dagger?

"I'm going to guess the gun-"

"Hold on," Martyn interrupted, "I think it was the dagger."

"Why?"

"Because Scott smiled when I said it."

Joel shook his head. "No, he's obviously bluffing."

"I've known him longer than you, and I'm pretty sure it's a double bluff."

Joel looked Martyn in the eyes. "And you're one hundred percent sure?"

"Absolutely."

Joel sighed. "Fine. Was it Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with the dagger?"

Joel reached for the envelope and opened it up. Colonel Mustard. The Kitchen. The Gun.

Joel let out a slow exhale before putting the cards back. 

"Oops," was Martyn's feeble response.

"Martyn," Joel said dangerously, "I'm going to kill you!"

Martyn took that as his cue to run, and Joel was right on his tail. "Get back here!"

"So, I guess I win," Scott said.

"Guess so," Lizzie agreed, sorting her cards.

"Honestly, I had no idea what it was, so it was handy you two threw your guesses away."

Lizzie frowned.

Meanwhile Joel was chasing Martyn around the house. It was during this hazardous chase that Joel accidentally knocked the bottle Cleo had put there earlier off of the counter, spilling water onto the ground.

It was around this time that Scar had made his way back to the tree, and was rooting around the presents once more.

"Scar! Don't make me get mom again," Bdubs threatened.

"She'll have to rip the present out of my cold dead hands," was Scar's response.

"Oh, that's it!" Bdubs snapped, and tried pulling the present out of Scar's hands.

"Give it back!" Scar shouted, pulling back on it.

"Mom! Scar's trying to open his presents again!" Bdubs yelled.

"For goodness sake you two will you give it up-" Cleo said, speed walking over to the tree. As they went by the counter they didn't notice the water on the ground. 

"Woah!-" As she slipped she went to grab the counter to catch herself, where the knife she had been using earlier still was, as she had forgotten to put it away in the chaos.

Cleo then said a string of words that I am not allowed to repeat here as their hand made contact with the knife.

In their quest to make sure nobody got hurt, they forgot to look out for themselves.

"Cleo!"

Everyone gathered around her in seconds, her right hand being clutched by her left.

"That looks bad," Etho commented.

"Looks like you'll need stitches," Scar added.

"It's not that bad! Bdubs, get me my sewing kit from the other room-"

"No! No one's getting the sewing kit, you're going to a hospital!" Jimmy told her.

"Seriously, it's fine-"

"I'm already getting the car keys," Jimmy said finally, walking out of the room.

Cleo groaned. "Party's over everyone."

"Wow, someone going to A&E on Christmas Eve? That's a new record for us," Joel commented.

"It's not as bad as swallowing a chew toy," Jimmy commented with grin as he walked back in with the keys.

"At least I didn't light myself on fire!" Joel shot back."

"Hey! That was traumatic for everyone involved, yours was funny."

"At least everyone believed you when you said you were injured," Grian interjected.

"Shut up about your arm Grian, it's been four years!" Joel retorted.

"Remember when you made me eat rat poison-" Bdubs started.

"Guys!" Scar suddenly shouted. "Mom needs to go to A&E, remember?"

"Oh, right-" Jimmy quickly left with Cleo (who had wrapped their hand with gauze by this point) to go to the hospital, and it wasn't long until most of the guests had left.

Joel was in the middle of cleaning up the puddle that got them into this mess when Lizzie approached him. "Hey."

"Lizzie?" Joel stopped what he was doing. "What are you still doing here?"

"Well, I figured I'd give you a hand with the cleanup," she explained.

Joel waved her off. "Nah, I've got it covered, you don't need to stick around."

Lizzie frowned and grabbed the mop in Joel's hand. "Joel."

"Huh?"

"I have been trying to get a moment alone with you all night, I even tried catching you under Martyn's stupid mistletoe at one point, and when I finally get one all you want to do is clean a puddle."

Joel dropped the mop. "You were???"

"Yes! I thought I was being obvious about it too."

Joel hadn't even realised.

As he was busy staring at her like an idiot, she leaned closer to him. "There isn't any mistletoe, but I was hoping that maybe I could still get a Christmas kiss…?"

Joel blinked, snapping himself out of his stupor. "Y-yeah!"

The two leaned closer, and Joel could confidently swear that that was the best Christmas present he got that year.

"Ew."

"Grian!" Joel exclaimed, suddenly jumping back from Lizzie. "Aren't you supposed to be doing dishes or something?!"

"I finished those and decided to come in here. Now I'm going to need to bleach my eyes."

Joel rolled his eyes at his brother's dramatics.

"I should probably get going now," Lizzie decided, "Merry Christmas you guys!"

Joel followed her to the door. "You too!" He called after her. Once he closed the door after her, he turned on Grian. "What was that for?"

Grian shrugged. "I was making sure you didn't forget about me again."

"Grian!"

"Merry Christmas Joel!"

It was the early hours of the next morning when Cleo and Jimmy finally made it back, just in time to spend Christmas morning with the others.

If you asked Cleo, they would take a guess that most families wouldn't really have more than one Christmas A&E story, maybe two in the worst cases. 

Cleo's family had seven. 

[uncleasad]

top ten favorite hosie fics of all time, go

What a fun Ask! 🙏 Also, are you trying to kill me?! 😂

A few weeks ago, TheDarkestHour13 introduced the concept of Hope and Rafael keeping a list of “Landon’s Top 10 deaths” in Such Is Our Fate. I commented that that particular chapter (for reasons other than the deaths list) was a Top 10 chapter of the fic, though I also noted I didn’t have an actual list of my Top 10 chapters—there were approximately 120 chapters at that point. I also thought, in a related manner, that I didn’t have a “Top 10” list of Hosie fics…and perhaps that should have been my cue to start thinking about such a thing 😂

As of late June 2024 CE, there are nearly 2600 fics in the AO3 Hosie tag and I’ve been reading since the latter part of 2019…so I’ve probably read ½ to ⅔ of them…

I came up with 7 fics right away, but as I started to make links and such, I realized that 5 of those were incomplete (ongoing, but mostly either rarely updated or, practically speaking, abandoned); I don’t know what it says about me that my “top ten favorite hosie fics of all time” is full of fics that may never be finished.

But in terms of recommendations for reading, I know lots of folks will not want to start reading a work that hasn’t been updated in years and has a high likelihood of never being finished, no matter how amazing it is (or how much someone else liked it). And even for ones that are currently ongoing, it’s possible (though unlikely) that the author could do something crazy to make me hate the fic later on. So I thought I’d spin off all those works that were incomplete into a separate list and come up with 10 favorite finished fics…I could mamage that, right? As I started trying to do that…nope, that’s not done, either; that’s been abandoned 😳 oh, what about that fic? wow, how did I forget that one?! (Like I said, are you trying to kill me?! 😂)

So…to save my life (and to stop spending hours upon hours on this), the end result is about 30 fics all-told, completed and incomplete. (I further subdivided the incomplete fics into those that are updated at least once every few months and those that…aren’t 😢) They’re ordered roughly by time, with the earlier/older fics towards the tops of the lists and the more recent ones (mostly) towards the ends of the lists. Two of the fics on the “Completed” list had promised an epilogue that has never appeared, but you can read the entire story arc, so I think it’s fair to label them as complete.

So without further ado…

Completed:

it's a date (the only problem is it's fake) by avengerskye / @avengerskye

Coffee on Monday, Flowers on Friday by Redezzy

The Missing Piece by intribridsname 

slept next to her but I dreamt of you all summer long by hackingxbiochemist

what you got (cause I want it all) by ToriWritesStories / @toriwritesstories

summer lovin' had me a blast (wait, no, that's just the leaf-blower) by AdeleDazeem

Our Last Life by taengoo1 / @taengooxlove

I'll Never Give Up Hope by O_M_Jee

HM+JS by tellingtouch

Invisible String by luthorbae

Then why's it feel so good? by callipoicepole (Killing Eve AU)

This Is Your Home by Shadowmama55 / @shadowhuntermama

Shivers (A Lifetime of crimes, but the worst was loving you.) by ch8rlie

The Stages of Grief by endgamesonly

'tis the damn season. by wandererghost (complete, though promised epilogue still outstanding)

Lizzie Saltzman, Matchmaker by TheNutcase (complete, though promised epilogue still outstanding)

In-Progress – still updating regularly or at least every few months:

Such Is Our Fate by TheDarkestHour13 / @persevereforahappyending (updated every Friday)

The Power Field by Joho_meh

4 Years, 6 Months, 8 Days by Limon_Skittles

To Know My Heart The Best (You’d Have To Cut It Out My Chest) by mambaregz

Incomplete – rarely updated, on hiatus, or orphaned:

Dive bar on the east side by Bluejay720 (7 chapters to go)

summer rush by sabrinasfadingmoon / @sabrinasfadingmoon (incomplete)

im not gonna let you go so easily by allweseeislight (1 chapter to go 🤞)

'tis the damn season by blckmaqic, LizMikaelson (1 chapter to go 🤞)

Redemption by MysticSlurp (Red Dead Redemption AU, incomplete)

Sad Bedroom Eyes by EvilPenguinRika / @evilpenguinrika (on hiatus)

Hell Hath No Fury by ElegiesEulogizeMe (Ringer AU, 6 chapters to go)

the stages of waking by dandelionlighters / @dandelionlighters (incomplete)

let’s watch it all burn down together by iris_on_the_moon (zombie apocalypse; orphaned)

A number of the authors are no longer active in writing Hosie fics (not surprising in 2024, considering), but many of them (including the authors of the incomplete works I like) have substantial catalogs, so if you read and enjoy one of these, be sure check that author’s list of other works (and of course leave kudos and comments! 🙏)

—

If anyone would like to see other fics I’ve enjoyed, there’s the fic recommendation tag here on my tumblr that captures a few from the last couple of years, and I also have a few AO3 collections of specific themes/subjects:

Hosie Zombie Apocalypse (HosieZombieApocalypse)

Hosie Summertime Vibes (SummeryHosie)

Hosie Season 2 “What If?” (Hosie_Season_2_What_If)

Hosie Post-Season 4 (Hosie_Post_Season_4)

Sorry I couldn’t get it down to 10, @tribridsireline 😂 But I hope everyone reading finds something new and exciting to read!

[moonchopsticks]

finished great god grove tonight! first scattered thoughts:

- been said to death but fucking immaculate style. yugo limbo never misses

-im the type of person that Needs to Know what happens next in the story so i definitely rushed over a lot of optional dialogue. definitely coming back for a second or third playthrough where i can dig into the world a little better

-i loooved the progression of revealing the lore and worldbuilding throughout the story. it was all very straightforward and followable yet sparse enough to make me feel like i was piecing together the nature of the gods and the grove organically. also watching the bizzyboy puppet exposition dumps were such a treat

-very cool worldbuilding, although sometimes the gods just felt like Big Immortal Humans. i know they all had their associated domains which influences their respective communities (+ tied into the different types of love that they each represent) but it never felt like they had much power outside embodying a specific theme. which is fine, there's lots of ways to interpret divinity and the concept of a god. maybe i'll have something more coherent to say abt this in the morning?

-^^ kind of ties into inspekta's whole deal. he already had immortality and was guaranteed it basically forever, in what way did king's ascension and the other gods just existing threaten him? like i'll buy that he had the sort of ego that comes from being insecure about the meaning of your short life and from fear of irrelevance, but if he was afraid of death it seems like he'd already be chilling just by accomplishing ascension. i guess he just wanted it All? i'm not really pressed about it, since the themes of like. love in the face of mortality and the insecurity that fear of death can bring are hugely impactful to me personally. and i like to see people talk about it. i just think more couldve been done with it.

-speaking of, capochin is a banger of a character. he has such a little ego and lords his authority over his subordinates, and you can just tell he's dripping with insecurity about his place in the world. i.e. at the right hand of inspekta as his unflinchingly loyal dog. he craves power and purpose and fears irrelevance, just like inspekta, and is tethered to his place by both intense fear and devotion. he treats the bizzyboys like dirt but even as they start to rebel against him they know that he'd never hurt them. also he's a 3 foot tall smug bastard fifty something year old with little puppy dog eyes. who's doing it like him

-inspekta, like all the players in the story, was made with such love and care that i couldnt imagine anything but a hopeful ending for him. aw hector. the secretly evil twist was pretty obviously telegraphed. had my suspicions pretty early on, which were solidified by the time the bizzyboys attack you after cobigail and all but stated after buzzhuzz, where they turn to fascism. (surprised that razzma said it straight up.)

- probably my favorite gods were cobigail and bauhazzo. did NOT expect to like them so much! cobigail's lore is really good for a human turned god of harvest--music teacher that lives in the school she used to teach in, a bright pillar of the community, voted to ascend by the town she brought together. slowly forgotten by the people she used to break bread with and slowly starving because they're forgetting how to come together and feed her. and she's a fucking cutie patootie sweet pea. and bauhazzo was very charming to talk to and also one of the most interesting thematically to me personally. for a god of memory and keeper of thousands of years of history he's very tender about the small moments. being a living memory essentially and letting nostalgia overtake you in a moment of weakness is an on the nose but relevant warning against fascist rhetoric (and just in general the trap of thinking about the Good Old Days). in general im someone that loves the ups and downs of life, and i tend to be nostalgic about the past and fear the passing of time, but my memory is really poor, so i end up thinking a lot about the subjectivity of memories and about how effervescent everything is...bauhazzo just ended up resonating with me ig!

-the first time miss mitternacht dropped that king uses she/her my eyes goggled out of my head like that cartoon wolf. experienced the euphoria of finding out that cool guy was a butch lesbian in real time. also makes her and miss mitternacht's thing one million times more juicy. idk i love gay people

-not sure why this stuck in my head but i cracked up when vibi was getting a little too into imagining capochin getting sweaty and dirty. pathetic man likers rise up

-patty i love u forever

-idk, this is the sort of game that reminds me that i want to create something. i want to make art without reservation. i'm grateful for projects like these.

[plushmer]

Katsuki gets pulled into his bosses office right before lunch with is direct supervisor and boss staring at him. He has no idea what he's done this time.

"Well it seems we have a communication issue..."

Katsuki smirks cuz he fucking knows this. No one can communicate any information properly in this damn building.

"It seems some of your emails have been coming across as rude, and that you're mad. Everyone is finding it difficult to deal with you"

Katsuki's heart sinks.

He's been doing so well. He did the therapy. He's been around this specific group of professionals for 5 years! No one has complained about his attitude before?! He finally felt at home. Finally found a place he could be himself without worrying He's going to accidentally insult someone with his quick to the point answers. He's blunt. He's succinct. He gets things done with efficiency. And he had been praised in the past for it!

...then the bomb drops.

"We really love you here Bakugou. You're unreplaceable. But I'm going to be honest, I had to fight tooth and nail to keep you here. That's how bad this is"

Oh, this is an ambush

This is fear tactics

This goes on for an hour. Them telling Katsuki that he's great but he also needs to change his behavior and attitude or *hint not so subtle hint* he will be forced to resign.

Katsuki goes home for lunch and just cries. Full blown sobbing on the floor. And that's how Ejirou finds him.

"Hey! You're home early. I was just finishing up the..." Eijirou trails off.

Katsuki knows he should say something. Anything. To make Ei know he's OK. But he's not ok. And he can't talk.

Ejirou kneels on the floor and puts his hand next to Katsuki's. He's been through this before many times with him. And Kat has helped Ei though many breakdowns as well. Ejirou knows by now that sometimes touch is the wrong answer.

Katsuki grabs his hand and Eijirou's restraint breaks. He scoops Kat up against him and just holds tight until all the overwhelming emotions can subside.

When Kat finally finds his voice he tells Eijirou all that's happened. Ei is furious but he doesn't show it. These people have been in their home. Have been their friends for years. He's confused and hurt as well but let's Katsuki spill it all.

"And the worst thing is! I have to go back to WORK! I can't take the rest of the day off. I have lives on the line here!" Katsuki all but screams

"I know love. And you know what? You're great at what you do. You have friends that support you. And I'll be here when you get back" Eijirou replies

The rest of the day is a haze. Katsuki keeps dropping things. He ran into a wall at some point. Even the intern asked if he was OK.

He's not that teenager that can't reply with simple kindness anymore. He's thirty fucking four at this point. He spend 15 years straight moving from place to place with Eijirou always right behind or beside him the whole way.

That's probably why this hurt so much. He finally found a place that accepted him. As himself. He wasn't pushed to be something he wasn't. He wasn't silenced. He could do his job and do it well.

So he smiles at the intern "yeh, I'm good. Just a rough day"

His smiles are not hard to earn anymore. They're given freely and are real. That's what happens when you feel safe.

But after that ... interaction ... with management. He doesn't feel safe. Not anymore. Now he has to watch his words, his tone, his mannerisms, fuck! are they going to make him stop swearing?

He's spiraling. He knows he is. He just needs to get home.

Ei's there. Kat can finally relax and watch the show they were continuing.

Everything is still a little fuzzy. Only hearing bits a pieces of Eijirou talking. He's pretty sure he should be listening but the meeting just keeps looping in his head. Katsuki forces himself to focus back in.

And then it happens. All his fears confirmed. He is actually the worst person on the planet. He doesn't deserve this job he's fought for his entire life, he doesn't deserve the friends he has, he doesn't deserve the husband who's supported him along the way because ...

Katsuki just said something and Eijirou called him rude.

*in reality. Eijirou made a joke. Katsuki said something sarcastic. And Eijirou jokingly said "~well that was rude" while laughing*

But Katsuki's not laughing. Not anymore. He's staring straight ahead and not seeing. His voice doesn't work anymore. His peripherals are gone.

And then Eijirou is in front of him. Hovering.

Then the tears, slowly, then sobbing. Eijirou slams him into a hug. They've learned before that the best way to ground Katsuki and stop a panic attack before it gets too far is to physically do it. Eijirou wraps his arms under Katsuki's armpits, grabs his shoulders, and pushes him down while squishing him into himself.

Eijirou knew what happened this time. He did this. He said something stupid. Something that usually wouldn't have any effect...

"You just confirmed I'm rude!" Katsuki hiccups between sobs

"And we've also confirmed that I'm an asshole" Ejirou whispers. "But that doesn't mean I don't deserve love. You deserve love. I need you to say it"

Those are the hardest words Katsuki can say when he ISNT having a panic attack.

"Or sign it"

So Katsuki shoves his hand into Eijirou's chest the best he can while being literally smothered in affection. His thumb, index, and pinky out. The sign for "I love you" pushing into Eijirou's chest

Eijirou doesn't notice the sign, just the pushing. "I'm not letting go until you SAY IT" Ejirou weaves his hand into Katsuki's hair to the roots and pulls "Say it. I deserve love"

The hair pulling grounds him more.

Katsuki is able to snark "eh, sometimes but not usually" and he wiggles his extend fingers on Eijirou's chest.

Eijirou finally notices the sign and that that's probably the best he's going to get for now. He pulls Katsuki's hair again for good measure and then gives him a bone crushing hug.

Katsuki actually reciprocates. Even with Eijirou, hugs are not his thing. He will always leave an arm down, or ball his fists, or go limp. But right now Katsuki is thankful. Thankful that his husband knows him so well and he wants Ei to know that it is felt, the love.

"Uraraka is on her way over" Eijirou casually states before letting Katsuki go

"Hah?! Why?"

"She's coming over so you can vent, or not, cuz I have to go to class"

"Oh, right, I forgot it was tonight" Katsuki whispers.

He hadn't even thought about the fact he would be home alone tonight while Ejirou takes his once a week emergency medical training class.

Uraraka arrives about ten minutes later. Just enough time for them to pull out her favorite blankets and clean up the tissues from crying.

Eijirou leaves, reluctantly, and gives Uraraka a look. She knows. She doesn't need to know the details but she knows something is up. She id alwayd there to talk, to listen, or to just sit and watch TV for Katsuki.

And Katsuki sits. Not knowing how to start. 'Thanks for coming over so I don't ... internally combust?' No.

Eventually Uraraka gives an opening "I haven't really done much today" she laughs "mostly stayed in bed"

"Any particular reason? Or just having a bad brain day?" Katsuki asks

"Eh. Nothing in particular. Just having a day. What about you?"

And there it was. The perfect opening.

So he tells her everything. She listens. He doesn't cry this time. And she lets him randomly pop in with extra stuff he remembers from the meeting that makes him mad even if it's not even the topic they're currently discussing.

It's good

He needed the reminder. He has friends. He has family. All who love him for who he is.

Whatever comes next at this job, good or bad, it's not the end.

He deserves to feel safe. He deserves love.

Edit: I proofread it.