#now it's just as disposable as our fucking electronics

[thatdapperbastard]

if you like something and wanna see more of it:

reblogging is how you do that. it gets content circulating, brings in new fans, rekindles the love for old ones, and encourages the creator to keep creating

there are so many fandoms that I've drawn for, personally, and then never again bc there's no visible interest

if you like what an artist/writer is doing?

tell them.

share their work.

fan creators are called that bc they're fans too. yeah there's some that do it for money/commissions but majority of fanart and fanfic is made by fellow fans for fun

if you talked about something you reeeally liked irl and your friends/mutuals just looked at you and walked away, you wouldn't wanna share your interest with them anymore, right?

creating content is the same

if an artist/writer moves to a different fandom or quits creating entirely but you never interacted with them? you never shared content?

"man, im so sad that X doesn't draw B anymore. B fandom is so dead"

sorry, but that's on you, bud. if you want any community to continue, let alone thrive, you have to do the bare minimum

it's one button. support the people that bring you happiness. it's literally free

Fandom: God there’s like NO content anymore. I wish we could get more art and fanfics :(((

Someone: Hey, I can’t draw anything digitally, because I can’t afford a tablet, but here’s a pen on paper drawing that I spent a lot of time and hard work on. Also, I took a shot at my first fanfic and I’d really like some feedback or at least some kudos if you enjoyed it :)

Fandom: Oh... yeah sorry no... not you. We actually meant writers that are already well known and popular to produce MORE content... I mean, if a popular blog shares your work then maybe. And we don’t really like pen to paper art. We just don’t think it’s professional or even looks good :/

[famoustalementality]

7 may 2023 "Also I'm not dumb. Jose still has a virtual machine so of course I wouldn't worry too much. He can run a malware if he wants to but as long as it doesn't penetrate through the virtual machine. I still remember the videos he did on that month of February. Pretty cool yet scary. Malwares are the most powerful. And are like gods. Monoxide.exe attack winmugen and boy that was crazy. I wished it attack minecraft though. Since I am a bit smart, I know that Dragon tiers are overkill cheapies in mugen. You can't beat them, but Avast Antivirus though.I still want to hang around before going. I don't have bad english and grammar at least I'm not a 1 IQ person, who just talks mixed up words and spread that fucking retarded non-sense anywhere and everywhere.Not to be rude or offend anyone. I know that was a bad joke. (even though it's actually true) Jose isn't worst dumb, he has at least 25 IQ or maybe 30 I don't know. We were friends for quite a while and I do understand him, we don't fight now.Nah, but how did Jose even meet with Alex Hou though? I fucking hate Alex Hou! Yeah no he really did piss me off as he did piss off Tyreki, he's a just focusing on gacha life and country humans that why he has 1 IQ and he English and grammar is so bad.Fuck this shit. I know I'm not going to calm down. But Alex Hou is the reason why Jose is quitting, and we're feeling miserable. He is a huge obstacle on our way, okay? I mean once we no longer use this platform I hope he can truly forget all of us.I can't stand him. Why does he come to Jose's channel? This was literally a bad choice for Jose to choose his friend's. Now I realize that we can't get along to well. Smarter or dumber. I mean what language does a Panama speak? I'm sure he understands more in his own language.Bruh, shut the fuck up! You are going to make him upset. Why do you have to say all of that? Not gonna lie has past is pretty sad you know? I understand that we should be nice and patient and go easy on Alex Hou. But you are just plain cruel, and you blame him!?He doesn't know what a virtual machine is, c'mon bruh. He is like not interested to learn about anything at all, just play games and watch gacha life. Look what he did, Tyreki is stressed (well actually it was kinda a mistake, to make such rank concepts of inflation)Jose is using virtual machine. Yet Alex Hou doesn't know what a virtual machine is! I don't why does someone with 1 or 10 IQ uses electronic devices.And the fact that he called you "Hana Chronicler" bro Alex Hou is calling everyone random names just so that we can't know that he is talking about us. But Tyreki did that to him too "dumb person" (he called Alex Hou that)But then Alex Hou tried to fight back calling Jose "stupid philippine user" and putting out nonsense even though Jose was not at that place.Omg. Nobody cares! You are a mid if you bully Alex Hou.Are you fucking stupid!? He put a link in that video. And it doesn't make sense!! And Tyreki now disposes his concepts of inflation ranks, his fanmade minecraft inflation ranks that are reference to mugen cheapies no longer exist. The document will be gone too.You don't get better at life, if you can't find friends who are smart. If you have a friend with 100 IQ he can probably help you with your hardest assignments. Having a friend with 10 or 1 IQ gets you nothing but play games and, that is you being a mid!THAT'S NOT THE POINT! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO TREAT OTHERS EQUALLY AND RESPECTFULLY AND YOU SAY THAT ABNORMAL PEOPLE ARE THE PLAGUE OF THIS WORLD!? HOW ABOUT YOU GO CRY INSIDE A DUMPSTER FULL OF SHIT!!!" Pt1 next

[lithariel]

Fucking. Continuing on the tags about the Framework and the display panels and the Fairphone. What the fuck is up with the fact that just because I don't live in the US. I can't get this specific kind of DIY-focused panels? The company gets the panels from Shenzhen China.

Why is DIY electronics so incredibly niche? Having to get spare parts for proprietary laptops, if they even have the display available in the first place. And then most diy displays that do sell enough to have dedicated companies are tiny ass 480p or 360p, for tiny ass diy projects that are gimmicky and mostly pointless in the grand scheme of things beyond "hey look i built something with tiny parts".

I just want to have a device that is repairable, upgradable, and relatively modular yeah?

Framework is cool because I could buy the mainboard, some additional components, and then otherwise just. Build my own chassis, apply my own screen, build a fucking cyberdeck if I wanted to, for the novelty.

And Jesus fuck, the fucking bullshit excuse of "oh it's more eco-friendly, its better for the environment to remove the fucking headphone jack, never mind the disposable wireless earbuds or other wireless technology necessary now. Buy our fucking wireless headphones or an even more unnecessarily wasteful USB-C to 3.5mm jack, if you're so desperate for it. So much better than just building it in"

[thecameronchronicles]

The Stepmother Part 2: Deceptions

TW: Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: You and Topper try to uncover who is attempting to blackmail you, leading to more surprises (and more danger) than either of you ever expected. 

WORD COUNT: 1800

The Stepmother Part 2: Deception

“Sweetheart?” Your nickname was called from over dinner, an array of elegant edibles doing nothing to satiate your appetite, as your eyes lifted to your husband in acknowledgement. However, as you feigned interest in how he spoke of the week’s coming reservations and the upcoming renovations of the house, you could only bring your true focus on the fleeting gaze given to you by Topper. But it wasn’t in revived lust or the intention of garnering your focus just to seduce you as you would have optioned for once upon a time. Instead, it had been in the uncertainty of a specific message gone unanswered. 

‘What do you want?’ This was what you and Topper had ‘decided’ as a response after an argument that prompted you to simply steal his phone and send the message yourself, having left you in wait until now, three days later with the illumination of his screen forcing him to his soles. The look he had cast in silence had validated this as he was berated for the interruption by his father before excusing himself and claiming it was important. Meanwhile, you were left needing to appear indifferent to keep from raising suspicions, but found each and every second to be unbearably torturous. 

You would only learn what the response had been when you found it impossible to sleep and made a journey throughout the house long after your husband had fallen asleep, finding Topper on the balcony that stretched the length of the rear house. Once you’d come to view, he quickly disposed of the joint he’d lit when believing he’d get away with it, as you set your hands up in surrender. 

“I’m no rat.” You reminded as he nodded. 

“Habit…” He confessed before bowing his head back over the balcony, not allowing you even a chance to inquire about the message before leading his phone to view. 

“We’re fucked…” Your eyes came to a conversation between Topper and this phantom figure that had ended just as vulgar as it had begun. 

"Jesus, Top! This person has our currently intertwined fate in their hands and you go out of your way to piss them off? What the hell?!"

"Did you see what he asked for?" He didn't even try to defend his actions. Instead, you were left with a sigh before finding the message that made your eyes close with disbelief. 

"Me? That doesn't even make any sense…"

"The bastard wants 'what you gave me'...says so right there in black and facing white…And if you don't…he threatens to make that go viral…Oh…and there's more…keep reading-"

Your eyes returned to the phone as you pulled the conversation lower with your mouth parting in further astonishment. 

"He wants…you to watch?" You paused, a realization suddenly cresting across your expression. 

"Do you think it's your dad? Sounds like something he'd do-"

"My dad can't use anything electronic that was made after the year 2000."

"He could have hired someone…"

"It's not him…"

"How can you be sure-do…do you know who it is?" 

"No…But I know if it WAS him that he would spend every second berating me for me." He now took his phone back as you paved the length of the patio, hands set in quick reps through your hair and over your pajamas in unsteadiness. 

"I-I guess we have to-" His eyes enlarged at the offer. 

"Are you serious?! You'll let the guy who is blackmailing us just fuck you-" You moved closer to him, speaking behind clenched teeth. 

"We won't have to worry about it if you don't shut up!" You snapped as he looked to the direction of the bedroom doors closed just over his shoulder. 

"It's my fault…" He finally spoke, aggression having now altered to self-loathing. 

"I never should have taken you to that window…I never should have let it happen at all.. and now…" He let out an exhausted sigh, "Shit…I'm sorry…I'm…I'm really sorry…"

"You can't really take all the blame, Top…" His eyes lifted to you in compassion despite the fact his frown remained. 

"I kinda instigated." This made him scoff with a smirk. But not because he had been surprised you'd taken blame, but in the way you appeared almost innocent, precious even, with the specific expression worn. Wide eyes casting in nervousness and lips pulled to a pout and cock before finally falling into a pitiful grin all your own. He couldn't help but admire your beauty in this moment, in a way that wasn't just lustful. 

"But I'm not letting it happen-"

"What?" Your eyes narrowed. 

"We don't know who this guy is. He could be dangerous-I mean clearly he is!"

"If that is all he wants is one night-"

"No-"

"Top-"

"I said no." Your head now cocked to question him. 

"He doesn't just want you, he wants me to watch you." His eyes darkened in that familiar lust you couldn't help but miss in your first exchange. He held it with such a talent that was both innocuous but filthy while you were desperate for its focus. It was a desperation he had shared as he looked to the direction of the bedroom one last time before taking you against the side paneling of the house with just his fingertips. 

"And I don't share what's mine-"

"It was one time-"

"Bullshit. It it were a quick fuck, maybe…but that…that was validation."

"For what?" 

"That you married the wrong Thornton-" Your lips parted in objection, prepared to give every reason that nothing could happen again. But in the way he'd kissed you, those very reasons were suddenly forgotten and you were wrapped in him once again. Only this time, HE had been the instigator and he was just as thorough as you. If not more so. 

You were consumed by him entirely, a new pace rivaled that which you'd known before. Instead of that rush to taste you, he had savored the way you had allowed him control, showing this gratitude in passion in place of possessiveness. But he WAS only human after all, and the soft means left as he descended to your neck, brought him harder against you. 

Immediately, your fingers wrapped over his muscles that tensed over your grip while he lifted your shirt to expose your breasts to him. With a single finger between them, he'd bring them to the night air once pulling down your bra, and paid each one individual and loving attention. It was enough to forget everything but his touch-a detail you hadn't counted on when you had instigated things the first time. 

"Top-" You were reminded of your reality, however, when a neighbor's timed sprinklers had alerted you to just how you hadn’t learned your lesson in public sex, your eyes pulled open and your hands came to his chest to stop him.

"We're already fucked…But if I'm going down, I'm gonna make it fucking worth it-" Before you could object, he sunk to his knees, pulling you out of your silk shorts and teasing your heat through the fabric of your panties. Licking and breathing over it, it was somehow more erotic than the contact itself, which brought you into motions made against him. Once realizing you were just as insatiable, he pulled the edges of your panties freely and committed to your core. 

Your digits were quick to collect his frosted hair, tugging in appreciation to how generous he has been in contrast to his own desperations, and giving him further evidence of this favor by allowing soft moans to fall from your just parted lips. But as your eyes peeled from their recent rest, finding him focused on you in study, this drove him somewhere further.

His ambitions exceeded previous experience as he deepened this by drawing your leg over his shoulder. And without a word between you aside from that of his name and the warning of a release, he led his crusade to its precipice. He continued still, grinning as you moaned to the night air, whimpers as echoes to the belting chorus you kept within, and the sudden snap of your hips reacting to the addition of his fingers curving inside of you with a mission all their own. 

"Fu-fuck me…please…" He rose to your lips, taking your jaw for guidance instead of aggression, and set a single yet passionate kiss against you. Without the need for reiterating your plea, he pulled your trembling legs to his hips, one at a time, before removing the buttons of his own bottoms and exposing himself to you. 

"Slowly- '' He teased in memory of the first time you had felt him inside of you. But in contrast to that initial penetration, this was sweeter, softer-and everything you'd hoped it wouldn't be. But it was what you needed as your body informed you of this with each and every contortion made throughout your expression or groan left from your lips, and it still remained a question, that final arch of your back as you had found your release had answered it. 

"You think for a second I'm gonna let anyone else hear THOSE sounds?" He allowed you back to your feet, but now brought his touch between those folds slick with a mutual release. Your hand reached to apprehend him immediately, but you were made weak by the mix of his touch and his words that planted you into submission. 

"Anyone else to hear how sweet you sound when you come?" He shook his head, his fingers inserting themselves into that painfully erotic bend. 

"The way your face looks so desperate right before you soak me?" His fingers increased until they were merciless, overestimating with intent as you were powerless against him, favoring his dominance in this moment. 

"Not a fucking chance-" 

"Ugh-Top-"

"You only come for me." His second hand wrapped in your hair, forehead set to yours for sincerity and grounding as his thrusts continued to climb in pace.

"You only say MY name when you feel THIS good-"

You nodded, willing to agree to anything for that imminent gush set behind his eagerness to please while also making his point. 

"And you only squirt for me-" Your eyes blew wide before his words were proven true, the spurt of his intention now staining everything within a foot radius of your thighs as he grinned to how you trembled beneath him. 

"I mean it. I'll take care of this…" He explained while holding up the phone. 

"But you let anyone else touch you…And the way I'll take care of you won't be a way you'll like." Just before walking away, he pulled his fingers between his lips as you fought the urge to lunge at him with how truly calrvating his willingness to remain erotic had made you feral.

 He'd abused your pussy, contradicted your own intentions, and somehow exercised both dominant and submissive in the same degree. It was confusing and alarming to how much you favored it. 

But it only complicated things further…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

[blodeuweddschild]

This is the part I’m talking about (transcript under the cut apologies for spelling/grammar mistakes I copy pasted from the photos). Warning for talks of necrophilia and a decapitated head (those two thing are unrelated this is relatively tame for this book)

‘Fascinating’, I said, leaving it ambiguous for now. Again I wondered what this man wanted from me, and what I expected to get from him. Were we going to fuck? It had been so long since I'd had sex with a breathing body, I wasn't sure I would remember how. Did I think I was going to kill him, on his own territory, with no weapon or means of disposal? The idea appealed to me, but the reality seemed implausible, and more so when I studied Jay's profile. This was no acquiescent brat to the slaughter. This was some other kind of animal.

Jay stopped and unlocked an iron gate with finials wrought in the shape of pineapples. We passed through an overgrown courtyard to a small white house. A series of keys, a sequence of numbers pressed on an electronic keypad, and we were inside.

My memory telescoped briefly back to my Brixton flat, the last place I'd lived before being arrested, and the complicated series of locks and bolts I'd had on the door. My terror had been of someone coming in while I was away and finding something I'd forgotten to dispose of.

This was not a terror of arrest or punishment; the fantasy ended abruptly with the nameless intruder's find. It was a terror of exposure, of having the lid ripped off my secret world, its vulnerable inner workings laid bare. This was how I actually did feel when they came for me: a blind, shrivelling, sorrowful pain, the sort of pain a garden snail must feel when stepped on and cracked open, its spiralling home crushed to shards, now nothing more than a snotty smear of meat left to dry in harsh sunlight.

Jay led me deeper into the house. The parlour was a marvel of brocade and gilding. I liked the way it smelled, an overlay of sweet incense with a scrim of dust around the edges, a hint of mildew in the cracks.

We entered the kitchen. The floor and all the cupboard tops were immaculate. Against one wall was a small able made of tubular metal and some glossy white substance with gold Alecks embedded in It. The table held a saltcellar. pepper mill, a bottle of Tabasco sauce, and a wine Corkscrew. There were two matching chairs, of which I took one.

‘Would you like a drink?’ Jay asked.

'Er... not just now. The room was still tilting a bit, and I wanted to stay alert for whatever might happen next, He poured a draught of cognac from an expensive. looking bottle, drank off half of it at once, and came over to me cradling the snifter, a great bubble of thin fragile crystal The cognac in the bottom was the colour of liquid copper. Jay wafted it under my nose. Just a taste?'

'Why not? I took the snifter from him, sipped, and held cognac in my mouth before I swallowed. Its smooth smoky burn blessed my tongue.

'Lovely,' I said, looking up into his strange eyes.

'Yes, isn't it? With one hand on the back of my chair, he leaned over and kissed me. The flavour of the cognac passed between our mouths, warmed and enriched with our saliva. One of Jay's hands grasped mine and I felt something cold slide round my right wrist, a circle of metal that tightened and clicked shut. I broke the kiss and stared down. Jay had handcuffed me to the chair. Part of what I felt was stark disbelief at being trapped again. Part was utter unsurprise that Jay had done it. I looked back up at him and smiled. The slightest shadow of doubt flickered across his face and was gone. He took another sip of cognac, wet his fingers on his tongue, and ran them slowly along my jawbone. He stopped at the juncture where my pulse beat and let his hand rest on my throat.

‘So it's a bit of a game you like, Jay? I asked him. ‘Well, that's all right, then. I like a game too.’ I laid my free hand on his, stroked the length of his arm, wined my fingers in his hair and pulled his head down to mine. His lips went stiff when I kissed them. His tongue lay his mouth as if stunned. I was very aware of his teeth, of heit hardness and sharp shiny edges. I let go of his hair, kissed the underside of his chin, moved my mouth down to the smooth dip of his collarbone. ‘Play with me, I whispered into his skin. I'm all yours' My left hand found the corkscrew on the table. I grasped it clumsily and felt the sharp tip bite into my flesh. Jay's body was rigid everywhere it met mine. I swung my legs up and pinned his arms to his sides as best I could. He wasn't very well trapped, but he was too startled to break away at once. The chair tipped backward and hit the table. I pressed the screw's tip against the pulse of his throat, just where his cognac-damp fingers had touched me.

'Come on then, I hissed into his ear. 'Let's play your game. What's your next move?

He tried to jerk his right arm out of my knee hold, and I jabbed the corkscrew harder against his throat. A thin red dot appeared at the point where it dimpled his skin, quickening my blood and my breath. The sight of scarlet on stainless steel has always done this to me.

Jay went very still. ‘What do you want?’

What did I want? I beg you to recall that the man had a sharp obiect at his throat, my love did not make a habit of stupid questions. ‘What the bloody hell do you think I want?’

‘Take back your jewellry - it doesn't suit me at all!

‘Jewellry?'

I moaned in frustration and rattled the handcuff against the chair's metal frame.

'Oh, those." My legs still pinned his arms to his sides; my blade still lay against his jugular, but I swear I could feel the man considering. ‘Well, I bet I could get across the room and out of your reach before you could inflict a fatal cut. What would you do then?'

‘I'd drag the chair after me and finish you off in a corner’

‘What if I told you I had a gun in that drawer over there’

He gestured with his chin. I followed his motion with the corkscrew, which was beginning to seem a slightly ridicu lous weapon. My legs were tiring from the awkward position, and I felt drunker than ever.

I'd say you were lying, Jay. You're not a gun man.'

‘You'd bet your life on that?’

'I've bet it on less.'

We stared at each other, both sizzling with adrenaline, blazing with lust, terrified to move. I realized he was enjoying this as perversely as I was.

‘Fine,' said Jay at last, ‘let me go. I'll get you the key.’

I unscissored him and slowly took the screw from his throat. I had no choice; I could not remain in that precarious tipped-back position a moment longer. The chair's front legs hit the floor, and I realized that my thigh muscles were trembling.

Jay backed slowly across the kitchen, not towards the drawer he'd indicated, but to the refrigerator. He stood beside the gleaming appliance for a moment, transfixed me with a clear calm gaze. I noticed, as one will mark small details in such moments, that his refrigerator door was unadorned by decorative magnets, sticky notes, snapshots, and other such frippery. Like most of the surfaces in the kitchen, it appeared to have been recently wiped down with a strong disinfectant.

Jay opened the freezer and took out a parcel done up in heavy black plastic. He brought it to the table and began to unwrap it, no longer pretending to worry about the corkscrew I still held in my free hand. He knew he'd caught my interest again.

By the time he had the parcel undone, I had already guessed its contents. I had stored and disposed of many such parcels myself. I knew the shape and heft of a wrapped human head, the distinctive size, the rough egg-shaped bundle it made inside plastic, cloth, or newspaper.

Faces lose much of their personality when frozen. The features harden and take on a shrivelled look. Sometimes it becomes difficult to tell one from another upon unwrapping them. This one had stringy dark hair and cloudy grey marbles for eyes. The nose and left cheek had flattened somehow, perhaps against the bottom of the freezer. The mouth was slightly open, the edges of upper and lower teeth a scant inch apart. Inside was only darkness.

Jay took a small key from his pocket, showed it to me, then dropped it into that frigid black mouth. I only just kept myself from scoffing. So this was his big test, was it?

I took hold of the frost-rimed hair and pulled the head across the table to me. I slid my thumb and forefinger into the narrow gap between the teeth and felt for the key. My nails scraped unpleasantly along the rough surface of the tongue. It was like clawing at a stale brick of ice cream.

Something adhered to my fingers: saliva, blood, crystallized epithelial cells. I disliked the sensation of the cold teeth scraping my knuckles. I'd handled plenty of fresh remains, and some not so fresh, but I had avoided this sort of storage whenever possible. I liked the cooling pallor of room-temperature death, not the icy shock of the deep freeze.

Still, a show of distaste at this point would be unwise.

The key had slipped to the very back of the tongue. As I scrabbled for it, I felt it disappear into the passage of the throat. I was rapidly becoming annoyed with the whole business. I felt almost certain I could kill Jay even with one wrist cuffed, so why bother proving anything? But I didn’t want to kill Jay.

I picked up the head by its hair and gave it a firm shake, then rapped the stump of the neck against the tabletop. A head liberated from its body is heavier than you might expect, but if you have plenty of hair to grip by, it is easily lifted with one hand. The key fell from the ragged end of the esophagus. I set the head down with a thump, pinched the key off the table-top with two fingers (the same two Id put in that frozen mouth), and unlocked the wretched handcuffs.

As I stood and faced him, the expression on Jay's face was something like wonder. 'What are you? he asked.

I touched my fingers to the bead of scarlet on his throat, brought them to my lips and tasted his blood for the first time. Im your nightmare. Did you think you were done with nightmares, now you've become one?

Mutely, he shook his head no.

‘Never relinquish your terrors,’ I told him.

‘That's when they catch you. What is your greatest terror, Jay?" There was no hesitation. His voice sounded hollow, flat.

'Loneliness.’

'Do you think you're lonely now?

Another nod.

Imagine, then, a cell with four walls. The ceiling is a map of a terrible country you know by heart. The walls can move and close in on you if you stare at them long enough.

There's no blood, no company, nothing but the rasp of your breathing and the stink of your chamber pot. My voice was beginning to shake. 'No one comes in, and it seems you never go out, and you've nothing at all to look at, but anyone can look at you. Does it terrify you?

'Yes.

‘Then never give up that terror. Never grow careless of it.’

I think many people who like Hannibal wouldn’t find Exquisite Corpse to their taste even if two gay cannibals falling in love and killing together sounds like something that would appeal. But I do thing there is a few pages in that book that would absolutely unanimously appeal to everyone and is the sort of thing I’d find in a Hannibal fanfic

[poprock-the-baker]

Daddy's Work Trip

(My First Ever TF Story I Made, Enjoy!)

-[The Past Week]-

My dad had been ordered on a business trip, he was to be going off across the states for a good solid week. Now normally that wouldn't be a problem at all, normally I say. But he just so happened to ground me earlier this week had taken all my electronics other than my phone. So before he leaves on his trip I need to find them so he can't hide them before I can get them safe. Today I just so happen to have the chance to go and search.

-[Present Day]-

"Now don't you think about finding your stuff James. I will return it all to you and get you something else if you don't try to pull one over on me. I need to go get another suitcase at the store before my flight. So I will see you when I get home to say goodbye before my flight out." My dad said before he kissed my forehead and turned to the door. "Don't be mad. You were the one who decided to break coffee pots with your fucking stupid soft drinks. See you soon Jamey." He reached for the door and proceeded to walk out and headed to the store.

About ten minutes when by and I felt it was a good amount of time by then. "Ok so he should be gone for now. Now let's check around his took for my laptop. He will just easily think he misplaced it when he gets home. So lets check his suitcase first. He might take it with him on his trip to keep it out of my reach the entire time." Proceeding to his room I looked around for his casually vibrant pink suitcase. You could guess he was either a very feminine man, or he was gay. Him being the latter. He came out to me about 8 years ago when I was 11. So I have known his sexuality for a while, doesn't bother me though. I pull his suitcase onto his bed and zipped it open. "Ok dad. Lets see what you are taking on your trip." Looking inside I couldn't really see anything other than his clothes. "Please don't tell me I betrayed his trust for nothing." As I say that I move the clothes over and see my computer. "I KNEW HE WAS GOING TO TAKE IT WITH HIM! Well, don't mind me while I just take my property." I reach inside and go to grab my computer. As I do I brush my hand against something sharp and get pricked a little deeply. "Well shit! That hurts. But it isn't like i got blood on anything. He won't be able to know. I just-" I start to feel lightheaded. "I just need to… To… To rest…" My body gets extremely heavy and starts to burn and soon they all end and I pass out.

-[2 hours later]-

"H-Huh… What happened?" I try to go rub my eyes as I opened them but I realized I couldn't move my arms, and not just that. I soon realized my entire body was paralyzed. As I started to panic I could hear a car pull up. "Shit! What do I do?! I guess I just need to tell him I'm sorry and get his help." I waited in my dad's room for about ten minutes before I started to worry. But they are soon brushed over as my dad stepped into his room. "Oh thank god. Dad! Something happened! I can't see to move, can you call the hospital?" Nothing. "Dad? Why aren't you answering me?" No answer. "Dad?" I don't understand whats going on. Not until he gets closer to the bed, and he keeps getting larger. "Where did that damn boy go, cause it looks like he tried to get his computer Cyrus.." He wasn't talking to me, but he turned and I saw her had his ear piece in and was on the phone. "Yeah I know I was just a bit hard. But he can't just decide he has the right to break everything and leave it for me to pay for." Is he still upset? Why can't he notice me! "Do I see the piece you sent for me to buy? Yeah I'm looking right at it babe. Are you sure its ok to if I wear it? It looks very beautiful and I don't want it to get saliva on it. And before you say it, yes I know a tongue piercing is supposed to get saliva on it but you know I collect some and just dont wear them." As he spoke I got worried. He was speaking of a gift he bought as he looked at me. What is going on. "Ok fine I'll wear it babe. Thanks for getting me the piercings babe. I love you." He hangs up the phone and then gets on his knees and looks at me. "You are one lucky piece of jewelry little guy. I'm positive James would have stolen you if he found you. But now you get to come along with me for my trip. And get to see the inside of my mouth as well!" "Dad? What are you doing. What do you mean jewelry! It's me! James! Why can't you see me! I'm your son not jewelry." I said to him. But nothing seemed to register for him. It was like… I wasn't me. And soon I realized what was happening. Jewelry? Tongue piercing? Not noticing me? I couldn't believe it and didn't want to. But soon my dad grabbed me and took me into his mouth, and having taken out his old piercing, he put me in. I started to panic and soon, even though I seemingly had no brain anymore, my anxiety kicked in and, having an anxiety attack, I passed out. Days passed without me waking. By that time my dad was already out of our state.

-[3 Days Later]-

I hadn't figured out where James went before I left for my trip and I hadn't gotten a call or message from him either. I was now in Portland, Oregon. My business meeting was taking place later today but I was currently eating at a cafe and waiting for my boyfriend to meet me here. I finally see him and wave him in. "Hey Cyrus! I'm glad to see you again." I got in and take a hug before I kiss him and slip my tongue inside his mouth and letting our tongues play for a second before I go back and sit down and drink my coffee.

I wake up to a harsh and assaulting situation. I was in a dark place and there was no light coming in at all. It felt really damp and humid. And something kept on hitting me under and over me. Soon, I figure out where I was. My father still hasn't noticed I was his tongue piercing. What just happened was that I had taken a part in my dad's makeup session. I feel like it can only get worse from here.

Cyrus comes and sits next to me and I kiss his cheek softly. "So you are gonna meet me again tomorrow after my business duty is over right? Its gonna be the last day I'm here so I thought we could enjoy our special time together doing some special things. What do you think?" He seems to be thinking it over and I soon know he is just playing with me. "Of course babe! I got a new place as well and we can bust it in when you stay before your flight home." I lean in for another kiss and decide to whisper in his ear. "how about we feel you up and suck your off big boy? Let's let this new piercing get broken in as well, not just the bed~" I bite his ear playfully before he speaks. "I actually have a gift for you to have once we get to my place. So just you wait and you'll be having tons of fun! I got to jet now though. See you at my place tomorrow?" I accept and wave him off before finishing my coffee and heading to my business conference.

Over the course of the next hours I am assaulted his hot beverages that burn my skin, cold water that chills by metal bones, gritty food that hits my head, and so much more. I am just excited for this trip to be over. Hopefully my dad will find a way to get me back to normal. Surely he can figure out I'm in his mouth. The final test approached as he drove into a driveway though. His boyfriend greets him and he locks the car and proceeds inside.

Enjoy in the drive I finally get the embrace of my boyfriend and we head inside. "So what is this gift you have for me babe? I already have this piercing." He looks over at the table and I soon proceed to as well. It is another tongue piercing. But it is a special one. The exact one I lost the first tike I met him. "Took me a while but I figure out where it was. Someone turned it in a bit ago after finding out it wasn't worth much of anything. I cleaned and disinfected it for you. So now that old one you are wearing now can just be tossed out. Cause this one is more important than any." For a second his smile seemed to be hiding something sinister it seemed but I brushed it off. "Babe… I'll put it in right now!" "NO DON'T! I meannn… Um lets still break that one in while you can. I'm sure you won't take this one out for a while. So lets start getting dirty. Starting with this." He soon proceeds to undress, my predator instincts kick in and I tackle him and start our session of intercourse.

I didn't like any of this. Was I going to be thrown away? Disposed cause of a new old sentimental relic? But most importantly, what is cyrus doing. I don't have a lot of time to think before my father starts to tongue at Cryus' asshole getting in and feeling all around. I can still somehow smell and I can only describe it as revolting. The smell was so bad and the experience only got worse. "Get ready big boy, someone is gonna get some rod suction." Then my dad proceeded to give Cyrus a lot and agonizing blowjob that lasted for longer than thirty minutes. It was so painful. His hot and throbbing shaft kept rubbing into my bulbs as he kept on pumping my dad's face over and over again until finally. *Release* "Be a good boy. Take all of daddy's seed. Swallow it all. Not one drop left." My dad did just that. He swallowed every single bit of Cyrus' semen. Afterwards they cooled down but stay naked. "You wanna try the old piercing on babe? See if it fits?" "I'd love to. You want to hold this one?" "Dad. Dad no. Dad don't take me out! No please don't! Dad!" The plees go unheard as I'm undone and placed into Cyrus' hand. "You mind if I wear it from now on? My old one just broke and I could use a good and new one. I would really like it if I could use this one." Say no. Please dad say- "Sure! As long as you take good care of it I don't mind. Its not like I'll need it back anything soon. So just have it." No… Please… "Good! I'll put it in right now!" Cyrus takes me undone into his mouth and secures me into his tongue as he sticks it out. "Like it? It feels so good." "You know I do. If James was here he would have a hoot. He is in love with piercings and he would want that one so badly." "Don't worry Malcom I'm sure he knows it very well. Don't worry." The smile I see him produce chills my very core. "Hahaha. Yeah he probably already has it. Well I'll be heading to the airport. I'll text you when I'm home. You get some sleep ok?" "I will. I'll enjoy this gift from you. Something tells me it will be just perfect. And I have a feeling it won't ever break." What…

After exchanging the piercings I kiss Cyrus goodbye and head to my car and start driving away. Still nothing from James. I'll have a talk with him when I get home. Until then its me time.

I see my dad's car leave from the view of cyrus' mouth. His next words chill me even more. "Your dad sure is hot isn't he right?" Did he just talk to me? "If you are wondering, yes. I was the one who did this to you. I'm what they call, a channelist. I have the ability to change anyone I seem unworthy into objects for as long as I need. Now you have a choice. Well two." I don't pay attention to him as I'm processing all that has just been said. If I cry I would. But I can't seem to feel anything other than Chris' hot and humid breath passing by me. "I can tell you aren't listening. I give up on trying to help you. I will make you become so close that you wont ever be able to get away from your father." He proceeded to call and ask my dad back over so he can give him one final gift and do it one more time. The answer my dad gives us clear. "Yes."

I had dumbly forgotten my flight was tomorrow and was about to just wait the night out alone when Cyrus called. He invited me back and I immediately accepted. I rushed back to his house and opened the door. I saw him sitting in a spinning chair as he spun to face me and I saw him holding a small crystal human figure. "What's that babe?" "I thought we could have a final go at our experiment from long ago. Remember your cock vore days? Well I had been saving this little guy for such a day. So what would you think about sending this little dude down yous shaft to be trapped inside your sentence tank forever?" "Oh hell yes."

The motions were going so fast. I couldn't believe what was happening. My dad walked into the room and the conversation was going good until they noticed me. Then cyrus said they should put me inside his cock. The closer my dad got the more terrified I became. Slowly he undid his belt them his shorts and finally lost the underwear. He went and grabbed me and held me in front of his face. "I feel bad for you little guy. Only now getting to see a real man. But don't worry, I'll keep you with me all the time till I die. You'll be a good company for my semen. Just you wait. I cant wait for this pleasure to come, so I am gladly going to enjoy using you." His words didn't show a sign of concern. Cyrus was giggling as he later back and watched. My dad stuck me in his mouth and slowly coated me in saliva before spitting me out and grasping his erect and lethally large cock. "Down the hatch fucker." He showed no sign of compassion. He was a harsh and cruel ruler as he lowered me into his slit and I cried out to no avail. He slowly worked me down as he kept me traveling closer and closer to the end before. *plop* I fall into his sentence chamber and I hear his moans loudly. "Best gift ever babe."

Cyrus never told my dad about me. And after he got home he never found me. I was declared missing and search parties started and ended. Days turned to weeks which turned to months then years. My dad and Cyrus got married and all the time I never despise inside his semen, I was there since that day and I was part of everything. From the beginning I never should have been ungrateful. Cause I would still be a son instead of a cock toy. But there isn't a way to save myself now. This is my life now. As my dad's work trip toy.

-[END]-

🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞

[creations-by-chaosfay]

My printer finally kicked the bucket. I had called Canon tech support, went to their website, did every troubleshooting thing you can think of. For months it has only printed in various shades of yellow, even when I have things marked for greyscale printing. Copying anything meant it was coming out in yellow. I have fresh black ink in there, btw.

The printer is now just a big paperweight. I’ll be looking into where I can dispose of it safely. There are companies that will pick up electronics and do stuff to not fuck things up. Never toss your computer stuff in the trash. Look for disposal companies that do this stuff professionally.

Until I replace this one, I’ll be going to a print shop to have patterns printed out for me. I have an aunt who does that because it’s less expensive than replacing ink. My issue is that I’m rather random with when I’m in the mood to print things out, and sometimes I don’t print enough templates for my foundation paper piecing and will need to go back and get more. Oh, and the whole plague thing doesn’t help much either.

What I will be replacing the printer with is one that uses toner and only prints in greyscale. If I need color, which is sometimes because I otherwise can’t read the quilt in the pattern. Reading the quilt means being able to see how things are laid out in the picture. If I can’t tell the difference between the fabrics, it’s just gonna look like a big dark blob. If I need color, I’ll go to a print shop or use markers or color pencils to fill in spots that I need to read. Toner printers are more expensive and toner is pricey, but toner goes a long way, often something like 1000 or more pages per toner. Printers advertise up to 500 sheets per cartridge, and those are expensive as it is. I’ve been advised by several quilters to use a toner printer because of the long term cost difference, quality of printing, and the fact these printers are easier/less expensive to repair. Getting professional repairs on my paperweight printer costs 3x more than simply replacing it. That’s absurd.

I need to get a proper sewing chair first, which is around $150 - $250. That takes priority. The toner printer costs between $300 - $800 for the high quality models I’ve been looking at. I’d rather pay more for high quality and long life than paying less for a future paperweight.

A new goal won’t be set up on my ko-fi page until our current money issue (me messing up on the tax paperwork and now owing $655 to the IRS) is dealt with. I’m not listing the tax thing on ko-fi simply because it doesn’t really align with what my work is about. I’d rather have a goal set up that’s related to my work. If you fancy helping me pay the IRS with at least half the amount, you can consider that a pre-payment for a commission or future quilt listing. 

Needless to say, I’m frustrated, tired, and stressed out. Virtually no break since last week. Now that I have mug rugs listed in my shop, I’m giving myself a break for the next several days. I’m binge-watching Star Trek TNG before it’s removed from Netflix. Almost to season four (there are seven seasons) and need to get through it all before April 1st.

[heckfick]

Part one

The first call.

Word count:2k+

Pairing:Y/N x Feitan

Warnings:Swearing, mentions of death.

————————————

Y/N sat in her chair, silently leaning against the back of it. She stared blankly at the monitor before her, her mind utterly blank. Her father, her partner in crime, was out at the time and training didn't sound too pleasing at the moment. And, dispite having the surface, deep, and dark web all at her disposal, things got rather boring quickly. The same old drama, government files, and red rooms just weren't appealing anymore.

So, she sat there, staring at her setup. "Wonder what dad is picking up at the store." She thought, scanning her desk for a moment before grabbing her water bottle and twisting the cap off. "Our next client better be interesting at the very least." She hoped. She brought the plastic to her lips, taking a swig of water. When her and her father got a client, she was in charge of planning, and she wasn't always planning the same thing.

On occasion they were hired to be a bodyguard, occasionally an assassin. The jobs varied, there were some that they just wouldn't take and others that they were more than happy to do. Y/N was in charge of finding out the details, helping her father understand what was to be done, and she was the one to come up with what would be done. Of course, if they ever worked for a celebrity then she would tag along. Just to meet them, maybe get their autograph or a couple of pictures. She was more than capable to handle their business all by herself, though. She was strong and smart, talented in what she did.

Her father, however, wasn't able to work by himself. He needed an idea of how things were going to happen, it was just who he was. The more detailed the plan, the calmer he was and without any idea at all, he panicked. He was really the only one she had, so she stuck with him. She worked to keep things in check, and he reeled in clients and handled most of the dirty work.

These were the thoughts that crossed her mind as she zoned out, snapping out of her trance only when she heard the door open. "Speak of the devil!" Y/N shouted, even though she hadn't been actually speaking.

"We have a client!" He boomed, clearly happy.

She grabbed the arms of her chair, standing up to help him put away whatever he had gotten. "Really? Who is it?" She asked, curious as she walked out of her room.

"Come here, I wanna see your reaction." She rolled her eyes at this, knowing that he knew she was on the way. Nevertheless, she picked up the pace until she was in the kitchen.

She walked over, grabbing one of the bags that he set on the counter, digging through it and grabbing a loaf of bread out of it. Her curiosity was now peaked, she saw her father smiling wildly out of the corner of her eye, he was just staring at her. "Well?" She asked, turning her head to look at him better.

He was silent for a moment, it was clear that he was ecstatic, almost bouncing off the walls. "The Spiders." He said, there was a pause, but then she laughed.

"You really shouldn't mess with me like that." She giggled. The Phantom Troupe needing their services? What a crazy idea.

"I'm not fucking with you, they want our help taking out some bodyguards." He explained. She had never seen him this happy.

"You're serious?" She asked, he nodded. "The Troupe." She murmured, trying to take it in. "The Troupe." She said louder, finally getting grasp of the situation. "We're working with the fucking Phantom Troupe!" She screamed, immediately dropping the bread and wrapping her arms around her fathers neck, nearly crying with joy.

He spun her around, as if she were still a little girl and not an adult serial killer. They were excited for two different reasons, Y/N had always admired the Phantom Troupe, their witt, strength and ability to get a job done was almost unbelievable. F/N was excited for the opportunity, if they did well, then a group as well known as the Phantom Troupe recommending them was good for getting business. Dispite their different reason for being happy, they still spun in the kitchen.

He eventually bumped into the counter, however, causing them to stop. They let go of eachother, both of their faces still as happy as ever. "I told the man I talked to to email you, it was about a hour ago. As if on cue, one of her monitors let out a noise that signaled she had a notification.

"And your sure it's them?" She asked, just wanting one last assuring word so she didn't get her hopes up for nothing.

"You know I have my ways of making sure people are the real deal, now go answer him, he said that we'll move out in three weeks so make a good impression!" He said, turning around and continuing to unload groceries.

She turned as well, heading towards her bedroom. She had been with dozens of clients, each and everyone leaving some sort of impression. Very few flirted with her, which she didn't find surprising. This was a professional job, and they didn't offer those kinds of services, although many had asked. An unpleasant thought then popped into her head. "What if the one I talk to is a pervert?"

What if he flirted, would she flirt back? No, she was professional, and while connections did mean alot, almost everything. She wouldn't go as low as to going out with someone just for work. That's something she told herself after she reached eighteen, she didn't care who it was, she wouldn't do that just for work.

So, if he was a pervert, she was fully prepared to ignore it. As she entered her room, the notification was on the screen still. So, she sat down and clicked on it. Her thoughts had ruined the mood she was in, almost instantly.

Blue apple. Hot pink watermelon

This was the message that her father told whoever was on the other end to send, it confirmed that she was talking to the same person and not just a random person who thought it would be funny to email her. With each client came a different secret message, they were all random and some were rushed, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that these helped.

Keep your fruit! For I have a lock of hair!

Be careful, for I only offer you one strand.

Y/N sent this message, followed by a link that would send him to her website, where he would have to enter yet another secret code that her father gave him. It didn't matter if he changed his account, the website wouldn't pop up anymore if he got it wrong he only had one chance. So, if he wanted to try again, he would have to go out and get an entirely different device.

On the same note, if he got it right, then as long as he stayed on whatever device he was using, he wouldn't have to enter the code ever again. She clicked on the link, her screen immediately changed. The website had a dark theme, it was simply easier on her eyes when she had to work late at night. She kept her eyes on the welcome back message, reading it even though she already knew what it said. There wasn't alot on her mind, now that her one main worry had taken over her mood, she thought of this as another job. Until she had talked to the man, just to make sure he wouldn't hit on her or anything of that nature, she decided to stay calm.

Y/N put on her headset, crossing her legs while in the chair.

She made sure that it was plugged in, adjusting the mic so that it was in front of her mouth. She just waited, staring at the screen for about a minute before a small rectangle popped up at the bottom, informing her that she was getting a call. She moved her mouse, hovering over the accept button for a moment, putting on a welcoming smile before clicking.

There was a few seconds of silence, as she scanned her face on her side of the screen to make sure she was looking half decent.

"Hello," she said, pausing as her gaze drifted over to the other side of the screen. "My names Y/N." She quickly took in his features, black hair that seemed wet. Maybe he just got out of the shower, or it could have been raining where he was. He seemed to be scowling, but she wasn't judging. Most of the time business made her grumpy, too.

"Feitan." He said, his voice sounding a little raspy.

"Nice to meet you, will there be anyone else joining the call?" She asked.

"No. I'll relay all of the information to to the others." He explained, leaning back onto the wall behind him. A dark hoodie and what she could only make out to be sweatpants were his clothing of choice, making her feel a little better about wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

She nodded. "Okay, got it. Would you mind explaining the operation?" She leaned forward, grabbing her binder and opening it, picking up the pen that simply laid inside.

"There's a man, he has some stuff we want. So we're going to go take it. He's said to have some skilled bodyguards. I'm sure we would have been able to handle it but Shalnark heard of you and wanted to see if it was worth what people paid for your work." Such a vague description,

"Mhm, could you give me a idea of where it is?" She ignored the last bit, not really caring why they were hired.

"Somewhere out east. It's called Bog Mansion."

She nodded, quickly jotting down this information. "Okay and now I'm going to need some info on the abilities of everyone whose going to be working with us." She prepared to start writing, but what she was asking for wasn't given to her.

"Why would I tell you that?" He questioned.

"I need to plan, that's the whole point of this call. I'll get and gather information, then I'll come up with a plan so you don't have to." She explained.

He considered it, eventually sighing. "I trust the person who wanted to hire you, but since it was his idea I'll leave it up to him to go kill you if you give our information away."

Y/N wasn't fazed, everything was classified of course, that's why she wrote everything on paper and not electronically. If it was stored electronically, you can never tell who has a hold of it even if you think it is only visible to you. "Would you like my address? Hell, I'll gladly deliver myself on a silver platter if I sell you out, of course I never will but still."

This caused Feitan to smile for whatever reason. "Okay, how about you tell me your ability as well. Your father already told me his so don't bother."

"Oh, my ability? It's nothing special I call it Satan's Zoo, and I just make animals with my aura. I have a pole that I use for close range fighting but it's in my closet somewhere." She glanced over to the closet in question. "Of course how many animals I make and the size of them both effect each other, but I can also modify animals it's a little difficult but I think I've gotten pretty good at it."

He took this in, being silent for a little bit as if he was thinking of what to say next. After about a minute he spoke up. "Will you be coming with your father with at a job?" He asked.

She was slightly taken back, of all things she expected him to ask this wasn't one of them. "Yes, I'd like to meet in person so I'll be tagging along."

"Then I would like to fight with you before we go to Bog Mansion." Feitan said calmly.

This was definitely unexpected, it left her speechless. A Phantom Toupe member thinking that she might be worth fighting? This was an odd honor.

"Your ability intrigues me." He said, perhaps trying to carry the conversation after seeing her speachless. "I'll try my best not to kill you. But I'd like to see your ability I person while your fighting against me rather than running into you in the mansion." He explained and all of a sudden her excitement returned.

"Really? You think I'm worth fighting?" Y/N asked, still star struck.

"Why do you sound so happy? I could kill you by mistake." He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I've looked up to the Phantom Troupe for a while. The pure strength that all of the members posses is amazing and I strive to be like all of you. Fast, efficient and good at what I do." She was smiling from ear to ear, making no effort to hide her happiness.

Feitan seemed like an okay guy, focused on business from what she had seen so far.

"Your strange." He commented. "I've never met a Phantom Troupe fangirl." He snickered, but she wasn't insulted.

"Well now you have, maybe you should release merchandise I'm sure there are people who would buy it." This caused him to laugh again, and this time Y/N joined him.

"Anyway, back on track." She said. "Go on ahead and start explaining everyone's abilities and such please." She readied her pen, excited to fill up her page full of information about her favorite group of thieves.

—————————————————

A single page wasn't able to contain all of information. It took at least a full page front and back for each member, sometimes more. With five members the exact number of pages came down to eight pages front and back. Her wrist was used to writing nowadays, but this was the closest it had come to hurting in a while. It was almost overwhelming how much Feitan knew about his teammates. Although, the more she knew the more solid the plan could be but still.

"Well, I have to say Shizuku's ability seems most interesting." She commented, closing the binder. "But I would also like to see your umbrella." She said, sighing as she closed the binder, leaving the pen inside. "I'll do some research and see if I can get a layout of the building and some intel on the bodyga-" while sitting her binder down she removed her eyes from the screen for a split second, and in that split second he was gone.

"Uh, Feitan?" She asked. It was only a moment before he moved back into frame with the umbrella. He sat back down onto the bed, grabbing the handle and actual umbrella before pulling a few inches of the concealed weapon out.

"Wow! That's actually really cool." She said, staring at it for a moment. "Did you just have it laying around?"

He closed it, placing it beside his bed. "Yes, it's best to have a weapon close to you when theres people out for your head."

"Has anyone actually tried to assassinate you?" She asked, wondering who might be stupid enough to try and kill a member of the Troupe.

"A few, unfortunate souls down on their luck. I'm guessing that people have a pretty high bounty on us." He sighed, crossing his arms. "What about you?" He asked.

"Well, people have actually sent some pretty skilled assassins after me. Thankfully, no ones sent in the Zoyldic family yet!" She joked, placing a finger inbetween her two collarbones and starting to trace down. "A man with a sword actually got me right through here." She continued to trace the old scar, moving down until right below her chest, where it curved to the left. "I beat him, of course but he left me with a pretty nasty scar." Her hand returned to her arm rest.

"Now that I I've told you our abilities, what now?" He asked.

She dreaded her next sentence. Talking to him was actually more pleasant than most of her clients, so this would be a little more difficult to let go. "Well, you call me around this time tommorow and until then, I get to work! I'll figure out everything I can and use what knowledge you've given me to make a plan!"

Feitan pursed his lips. "Okay I guess."

"I'll talk to you later, just message me if you have any questions!" She smiled. "Goodbye!"

"Bye." And just like that the call was over.

Y/N grabbed up the binder, opening it up to a new blank page. She needed to impress him, get a good word in with the Troupe and she might be able to work with them again! This was so exciting. So, as her heart pounded in her chest, she got to work on figuring out everything she could about Bog Mansion and the people who lived within it.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Within the Circles: Chapter 5 (+ Epilogue)

The final chapter and epilogue of "Within the Circles" have been posted to AO3!

After the harrowing experience, Aziraphale and Crowley start the healing process. But recovery from this sort of trauma is never easy. Featuring the return of Anathema and Newt, who I don't write about nearly enough.

--

Crowley didn’t want to linger in the awful basement, but there was too much down there that would be dangerous if discovered, more than he could handle on his own. Fortunately, one of the necromancers had left a mobile in the wreckage.

When Anathema and Newt arrived, Crowley—human-shaped again—was still picking his way through magic ingredients, while Aziraphale rested in the corner, wrapped in a red cloak.

“Here,” Newt said, kneeling next to the angel. “You’re not really either of our sizes, but I think Shadwell’s old jumper should fit you, and Tracy had this skirt. It’s not ideal—”

“I think this will do marvelously,” Aziraphale said with a weak smile. “Thank you, young man.”

“And, ah, Tracy also found a pair of sunglasses…?”

They were extraordinarily pink, but Crowley wore them anyway.

Next, Anathema looked the angel over, Crowley hovering behind, ready to throw her across the room at the first sign of magic. “If I had to guess, it’s this one.” She pointed to a symbol drawn onto Aziraphale’s shoulder with Sharpie, then traced again by a blade, leaving bright red cuts. “Power regulation, basically a surge protector. Whatever she was siphoning off you, it was just different enough from a demon to get, mmmph, major feedback.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Newt pointed out.

“It’s all it takes.” Crowley said, shooing the witch away so he could sit beside his husband again, help him pull the jumper on. “I…I’ve seen them fail for…much less.”

A long pause. Crowley tried not to think about the questions on everyone’s mind. It wasn’t any of their business, except in a way it was now. He did his best to push all those thoughts aside.

“I’m just glad no one was badly hurt,” Aziraphale said with a shaky smile.

“Except you,” Crowley grumbled, not even trying to hide the fact that he was fussing. “And one human had a few broken bones, but as I understand, he really deserved it.” No, that didn’t help. There was a pinch of horror around Aziraphale’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything yet. “Here, something’s missing.” Crowley tugged the rumpled bowtie out of his pocket.

“Oh!” his angel’s face lit up. He quickly looped it around his neck, struggling to tie the knot with trembling fingers. Crowley helped—though his own fingers were just as bad—and eventually there was a crooked tartan bow in place below his chin. “Yes. I feel worlds better now.”

Crowley leaned close and kissed him, gently, almost afraid that Aziraphale would break—or that he would. “Just a bit longer, Angel. Few things to take care of. Then we can go home.”

“Of course, darling.”

Aziraphale was holding together surprisingly well, but Crowley knew. All those times he’d been summoned cut him deep, the pain, the humiliation, piling on in layer after layer until they smothered him in darkness—

He wished he knew what to say. Words were too fucking hard.

Crowley stumbled over to where he’d gathered the shit the summoners had left behind. A sack full of Aziraphale’s beautiful feathers, another of his hair. A cooler with vials of blood, faintly glinting gold. A jar of clear liquid marked Angel Tears that almost made him wish he’d let Aziraphale rip the bastards apart.

“What do you think?”

“Based on the prices we saw, a million pounds, at least,” Newt said, earning a glare from the demon. “Sorry. Just…” He hunched back over the computer, and a few seconds later it was an inert hunk of metal and plastic, any information about angels lost to the universe. He started on the phones next.

“Don’t know about the feathers,” Anathema said, “but for the rest…probably dispose of it all in a river. Running water’s a reliable way to neutralize the power. But there’s still a lot.”

“Is that a problem?”

She squeezed his shoulder, tried to give an encouraging smile. “No. We’ll take care of it.”

“Nhhh.” Crowley looked down at his feet. “Thankyou.”

“Thank you for calling.”

He nodded, turning away. “Mmmmh. We’ll take the feathers. Figure out something to do with them.”

“What about that thing?” Newt gestured to a hollow stone column, a deep red glow inside. “Looks…really dangerous.”

“Less than you might think.” Crowley leaned against the energy well. All the power that had been drained from Aziraphale as he was interrogated was stored in there, a flickering amorphous cloud of light. “They used to just let it dissipate into the air, until someone figured out how to collect it. But it’s inert like this, and I’ve got no idea how to activate it, so I usually just…” he shoved at the stone until it tipped over, clattering against the concrete floor. The light inside fluttered weakly and went out.

“Well. That’s alright then. Last of the electronics,” Newt added, tossing a black-screened phone against the wall. “We’ll need some equipment for all that.” He gestured vaguely to the rings embedded in the floor. “Hammer. Prybar. Maybe acid.”

“Or just demolish the place entirely,” Anathema suggested.

Her boyfriend nodded. “If you can think of a way to convince them this is our property, I’ll call those fellows who did the renovations for us.”

“You don’t have to,” Crowley objected.

“I think I do.” Newt looked at the circles and shuddered. “Unless you were thinking of stealing one of those diggers up the street. Then, by all means…”

“Nnnnnn.” The demon rolled his shoulders until they popped. “Think I’ll leave this one to the contractors.”

“And that just leaves…” Anathema nudged the books with her toe—grimoire, spell book, and notebooks full of dangerous information about angels. “How do you all feel about a bonfire?”

“That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale said, staggering to his feet. “Though I’m afraid my weekend plans involve recovering in bed with my husband. I’m going to be quite busy with that.”

“Ahhhh, shit.” Crowley ran his fingers through his hair. “The bed! I…I de-manifested it. Not going to have the energy to bring it back for a couple days.”

The angel snapped his fingers, frowning. “I appear to be out as well. I may have overdone things a touch.” That would be something to discuss later. Three times, summoners had driven Crowley into a berserk rage, draining him even of reserves of energy he couldn’t normally access. Aziraphale had apparently discovered the angelic equivalent and it was…chilling.

The two humans glanced at each other. “We’ve got a spare room now,” Anathema said. “Looks like it’s about to have its first guests.”

“Oh, no,” Crowley said.

“That sounds lovely!”

“Absolutely not.”

“A weekend in the countryside, just what we need.”

“No, no, no, no.”

“Crowley, dear, what is the matter?”

“I am not riding all the way to Oxfordshire in that disaster he calls a car!”

Read the rest on AO3!

[turbulentt]

Playing Dirty

genre: smut | seunghwa x fem!reader

word count: +1.2k

warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, public sex, dominance, rough sex, choking, oral

summary: after several atempts, seonghwa finally gets to go out with you. lazer tagging seems fun, right? it’s even more than what you thought.

“This is the best idea for a date, Park Seonghwa.” you laugh “I hope you don’t cry after I destroy you.”

“You’re fantasizing too much, y/n,” he smirks, placing his electronic vest.

Seonghwa had been asking you out for quite a while now, but it was never your intention to fall for his charms. However, once he said the words “I’ll take you laser tagging and I��ll pay.” you just feel right onto his feet.

Now there you were. Preparing the equipment while the match hadn’t started. You agreed to go on opposite teams, so it would be more interesting, and each one had five more players.

“It will be dark inside. So beware of your enemies.” the instructor advises. “Reds and greens you can go in now.” and so your teams enter the dark place. 

You knew, for sure, that the Park wouldn’t care about the other players and would only target you. And he would play dirty only to see you lose. Anticipating that, you located a spot to hide. Two large pillars where no light shone into. “Perfect.” you thought running quietly. 

You took your spot silently, searching for the opposite team through the small inch of space between the two pillars. One player appeared and, with no hesitation, you annihilated him. You smile triumphantly. 

It only took you two seconds to notice the light footsteps behind you, but once you turned around your hands were pinned against the pillar. You knew it was Seonghwa, even if you couldn’t see him, his intoxicating smell so close to you, his breath brushing through your nude skin. “Found a hiding spot, bunny?” he whispers, pinning you even harder. You whimper at his grip “Let m-" 

He wastes no time, kissing you harshly and leaning his body to yours. His hands still working on leaving marks on your fragile wrists. Once you feel his tongue invade you there is no coming back, from that on he takes all the control he wants. He breaks from the kiss, lowering his head as he starts to kneel in front of you. 

"You know…” he releases your wrists and you sigh “I could just eliminate you right now, but it sounds better to fuck you out of your senses first." 

His words hit the pit of your abdomen and the sudden urge to feel touched evades you with power. The feeling became even stronger when you felt his sly hands unbutton your shorts. "Seong… someone might hear us,” you whisper, your hands running through his slick and pushed back hair. “Then I expect you to keep quiet, bunny.” he pushes both your pieces of clothing down and you moan lowly at cold feeling against your core “Don’t ruin our fun." 

His warm breath became closer and closer each second and you could only moan in expectation. Planting sweet kisses on the inside of your tights, Seonghwa pulls one of your legs to rest in his shoulder. "Are you going to be quiet for me, bunny?” he whispers, his kisses slowly rising to your wet core. “I-I will… just p-please…" 

He chuckles. Having you submissive to him like this, with your needs at his disposal, makes him feel even eager to fuck you. 

And, after all that waiting, you felt his tongue slide completely between your folds and playing with your needy clit at the end. Seonghwa repeated this torture a couple more times, forcing you to bite your own hand in a poor attempt of muffling your moans.

You were far from satisfied and he knew it. As he started to suck your bud you couldn’t help but rock your hips forward, in search of more. He was sure you wouldn’t last long, you enjoyed so much the way his mouth treated you. 

“S-Seong…” you breathe out “P-Please.”. Your grip on his hair tightens once you feel your high approaching. Seonghwa detaches his mouth from your core causing you to whine. He stands, getting awfully close to you, and you sense his head leaning closer. “Please what, bunny?” he bites your ear lobe. His hands are nowhere near you, but not long after you pick up the sound of his belt unbuckling. “P-Please…” you whimper. He rids himself from the pants, lowering them to his feet, taking with it his boxers. “Use words.” he slams the wall next to you, startling you “Let me hear you beg.”

You feel the tip of his cock brush against your wet core. His low groans and the way he rubs his skin needly onto yours simply drives you mad. “Fuck me, Seoghwa.” your hands search for his shoulders, in need of a place to hold on “Oh, please, fuck me.” 

He groans once more, your dirty pleas making him harder. The hand previously resting on the wall was now tight around your thigh helping your leg up. “Just try not to scream.” he chuckles amused. You discovered that to be a hard task since Seonghwa just sunk into you with all his desire. Not even bitting your lips could save you from being caught. And Seonghwa was too into it to be caught now. 

“You feel so fucking good.” he praises, is words exiting his mouth as rough as his thrusts. Your legs start to feel numb and that familiar feeling starts to appear as he quickens his pace. His hands gripping hard both your thigh and waist, a reminder for you later to flashback to this moment. 

Your moans start getting considerably louder as you feel yourself reaching the climax, so Seonghwa’s hands cover your mouth. “I-I really don’t want to be caught… because you c-can’t control yourself, bunny.” he breathes out, you now noticed how much of a mess he also is. You grip his hair trying to find some strength that can hold you together but every time Seonghwa’s tip touches your sweet spot you feel wrecked.

A few more thrusts in and Seonghwa is the same moaning mess as you “I… I’m going to c-come.”. His movements get sloppier and you soon welcome all his liquids inside of you. Your eyes widen with pleasure as he keeps chasing his high, his hand playfully slides from your mouth to your neck and a hard grasp makes you moan louder than you expected. “Keep it up and you won’t be able to cum, bunny.” he gently licks your swollen lips his hand tightening around the precious skin of your neck at each thrust. 

You reach your high rapidly and his movements cease. A loud sigh comes out of your mouth as Seonghwa gently backs away from you, removing his cock from your core and wiping all the residues dripping from both of you. “This was so fucking hot.” he chuckles and you can ear the sound of muffling in front of you. “Let’s do this again some other time.” you smile, dressing up “But now…”. Seonghwa only notices you holding your taser gun to him when the sound of an elimination is heard, followed by the light-up of all lights. “Red team wins.” the instructor announces through the speaker. 

“You little…” Seonghwa looks at you with a grin in his lips “ Let’s head back to my house so I can show you how a good bunny should behave.”

[floof-reppu]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Yet another BNHArem server collab

Want to read another one? Click Here!

Fuyumi Todoroki x Fem!Reader

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I’m just gonna say this now... I’m setting a new standard. There’s legit no such thing as Fuyumi Todoroki x Reader smut on Tumblr until today. Honestly, I was half surprised and half not surprised. There was BARELY anything on her in the first place. I wish she would get the love she deserves, especially after everything she went through. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! 

-

And with shaky hands, you slowly started to open the box.

There was quite a bit of volume to it,  but inside was… something you didn’t expect to find in such a ludicrous manner. A lesson planner with the printed name of a local elementary school written on the front peeked out at you, and you lifted it out. You saw there was a keycard with a note attached to the bottom, which read the following:

‘This seems like a very personal yet informal way to extend my greetings, but I’m sure you’ll be surprised at who’s on the other end. The address should be written on the first page, and the keycard should let you inside of the front entrance. The rest of the planner is left blank (for interpretation, of course)! I can’t wait to meet you tonight.’

Well, if that didn’t spell anonymity, you didn’t know what did. Opening up said planner to the first page, the address of the elementary school was written, no name attached to the front. A room number and the instructions of knock once, then twice was towards the bottom of the page, and you couldn’t help but wonder… were you really going to be having a one-night stand in such a public place? Wouldn’t you get caught?

There was only one way to find out.

Oh god, you were really doing it. 

The keycard beeped against the electronic lock on the door, green light flashing to signal that it had worked. It was almost as if the door was ready to open on its own with how little effort it took to pull it open. Holding the note in your hand, you used it to navigate your way through the school building and reached the room with the number etched on a plaque to the side. Knock once, then twice. 

That’s exactly what you did, rapping your knuckles against the wood of the door once, waiting a few seconds, then did it twice more. You could hear the distinct sound of footsteps through the paper thin walls of the classroom, though you dare not speak. 

“You can come in.” The voice was feminine, sophisticated, soft… did you know anyone with such a voice? Sliding the door turned out to be a pain, but once you finally opened it, a pair of intelligent turquoise eyes met yours, blinking once, then twice. It was obvious she was just as nervous as you were, having paced around the room countless times. A pair of red-framed glasses sat atop the bridge of her nose, white hair with flecks of crimson framing her face. 

You knew she looked familiar, but you just couldn’t think of who she was; or rather, who she was related to.

“I’m relieved you didn’t decide to ditch,” The woman let out a sigh of relief before folding her hands in front of her body, “but that’s enough complaining out of me. I know this is supposed to be anonymous, but it doesn’t feel right to… get so intimate with someone without introducing myself. I’m Fuyumi Todoroki, and if you hadn’t guessed by the item, I teach at this elementary school in this classroom specifically.”

Todoroki. That’s it. She is the daughter of Endeavor, elder sister of Shoto- how didn’t you realize that sooner? 

“Yeah, I… figured that much. I’m Y/N.” You responded, hand going up to rub the back of your neck. A few awkward seconds passed before your voice rang yet again.  “I didn’t expect to be matched with such an intelligent, let alone beautiful woman such as yourself, Fuyumi.”

“I could say the same, Y/N.” She giggled, taking a seat on top of one of the desks. “Please take a seat. I insist.”

There wasn’t a reason that you could think of to not comply, so you walked over and sat down in a desk across from her own. The wall clock ticked by seconds as you thought of what to say, what to ask her, such as how exactly were the two of you going to be intimate in such a public place? It was practically sacreligious to commit such an act, inside an elementary school no less. But… you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being sexually attracted to Fuyumi Todoroki, and committing such a sin in her own classroom, no less. It almost felt like it was meant to be. 

“So how are we going to do this?" Looking around the room, you couldn't see a flat, solid space in sight that could be used as a makeshift bed. Fuyumi scrunched her nose momentarily, thinking hard. 

"I have an idea that hopefully you'll like, but it's something that just came to mind. We can move the desks into the middle and make a flat surface elevated from the ground while also removing the chairs from the picture. We can stack them against the wall." She got off of the desk, getting on the other side and pushing it towards the one you happened to be perched on. Getting up and helping made it much easier to get the job done, and soon you had a decently sized makeshift bed. 

It wasn't much, but you would have to make do with what you had at your disposal. The desks were metal, but hopefully they wouldn't be too cold for either of you, since you would both be completely naked on top of them. Fuyumi hummed contently as she looked at the creation the two of you made on a whim. 

"This is the best we can do as far as a flat surface. But anyways…" Her bag was sitting behind the podium, and she went back to grab a few items. You could have sworn you heard the sound of rope against fabric, but it could have also been your imagination; not that you wanted it any other way, of course! But what did it mean? When she came back in view, she held the rope, a blindfold, as well as a vibrator. "I brought a few things with me to hopefully enhance our experience, so I hope you don't mind."

"I… of course I don't mind." Your face flushed, both embarrassed and turned on at the thought of being tied up with a blindfold around your eyes in front of an almost-complete stranger. Fuyumi placed the items on a chair she kept nearby, and before you knew it, you had the small of your back pressed against the desks, a hand trailing up and down your inner thigh. 

"I'm glad you don't mind. I may not look like it, but I'm surprisingly assertive in bed, Y/N." She whispered in your ear, almost like a seductress. You were completely vulnerable to the woman in front of you, your legs wanting to buckle out of anxiety, but you came here for the sole reason to fuck, not to be a pussy and walk away from such an opportunity. 

Before you knew it, she moved her head back and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, one hand caressing your cheek while the other continued to trail circles along your thigh. Her lips were soft for the most part, but a few chunks of dry skin could be felt as a full on make out session began to ensue. Chest pressed against chest, you could feel Fuyumi’s hardened nipples press against your own. You wanted so badly to take off her clothes right then and there, but there was a commanding, demanding aura about her that you couldn't just get around.

Her tongue slipped inside of your mouth without consent, and you almost had to blink twice; she didn’t look like the type of woman who would be so assertive and forward with her romantic advances. If that wasn’t enough to convince you, the hand that was previously caressing your cheek had gone down to grope your breast. You let out a soft moan as she needed your clothed flesh, separating your lips from hers only to breathe. 

“Were you that surprised, Y/N? Or did you just need to catch your breath after that breathtaking experience?” You couldn’t get out a word just yet, so you resorted to nodding vigorously as Fuyumi removed her hands from your body, walking backwards and thinking for a moment. “I want you to get up on the desks and start stripping. One article at a time.” 

There was no way you could just disobey Fuyumi, especially since if you did… you didn’t know what might happen. Hopping up onto the desks behind you, your partner for the night eyed your body up and down, making mental notes of where you might be the most sensitive. Her finger pointed to your shirt, more specifically your chest. 

“Strip. Top to bottom.  Now, please.” 

Hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled up, revealing your stomach first, then your covered breasts. You discarded it to the side, but you couldn’t help but feel so vulnerable in front of Fuyumi. This wasn’t the first time you would be getting intimate with another person, but there was just something about her that made you feel exposed, embarrassed to even show her your form. Feeling the tension in the room, her expression softened for just a moment. 

“You don’t have to be nervous. Just think of it as a brand new experience. My students always seem to be anxious over one thing or another, but I don’t think that anxiety belongs in the bedroom… or rather, the makeshift bedroom in my classroom. In fact, I think you’re very beautiful, Y/N.” She smiled, eyes closed contently, her hands going back to folding in front of her. “Now then, can we please continue?” “I, um… yeah.” You managed to mumble out a few words as you reached behind your body, unhooking your bra and exposing your breasts to the open air of the room. There wasn’t a completely definite blush on Fuyumi’s face, but you knew that she was attracted to your breasts, eyes never leaving your chest. “Do you still think that-”

“Y/N.” Fuyumi scowled, taking off her glasses and setting them on the podium behind her before walking up to you. “What did we just discuss about letting anxiety control your behavior and emotions? Actually… I don’t think I should let you talk at all.” 

Eyes wide, you looked at Fuyumi. What exactly did she mean? You had not the slightest clue until she went over to the chair with the toys, pulling apart the blindfolds and going back over to you. 

She was going to gag you?!

“Trust me, it’s going to enhance your experience tenfold.” Without a second thought or time to process what was going on, you were pushed up onto the desks with minimum effort on her part, a smile from ear-to-ear plastered on Fuyumi’s face as she climbed over top of you. Gently, she maneuvered the cloth into your mouth and tied it behind your head tight enough for it to stay in place, but loose enough so that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Her hands moved down to unbutton your pants, zipping downwards and pulling them off. She discarded them in the same place that you threw your shirt, leaving you in just your panties, already soaked from just how mysteriously turned on you were. “I’m so glad we get to have this experience together, aren’t you?”

You nodded, afraid that if you didn’t that there might be repercussions to your actions. 

Sliding off the desks, she made sure to keep an eye on you as she started to strip herself, letting all of her clothes fall to the ground in a fell swoop. It would take much too long for her to tease you, so instead she decided that was the best course of action. She went over to grab the rope and the blindfold first, pulling you back to her gently and taking your wrists in her hands. The rope was used to bind them together above your head, making sure that you wouldn’t be able to grab anything. The blindfold was put on soon afterwards, covering your eyes so that you couldn’t see.

This was sensory deprivation at its finest. The only thing you could possibly do now is hear out of your ears and smell... something. 

You could hear the desks slide against the floor.

You could feel the bare body of Fuyumi, her breasts pushing against your own. They were soft, warm… but yet you couldn't touch them, causing you to let out a muffled, disappointed grunt. A slap to your ass made you jump in surprise, but you weren’t able to do anything about it. Instead of paying more attention to your obvious frustration, her thumb started rubbing against your clit. The veil of darkness clouding your vision mixed together with the stimulation helped to fuel your desire for more, but it was hard to keep your mouth shut. 

“You’re getting a bit squirmy, Y/N. If you don’t calm down a little, I might just have to bind your legs, too. I don’t want to have to do that.” One of her fingers slipped inside of your entrance, causing your hips to move into her touch. “Be good and I might take off the blindfold so you can watch.”

The prospect of getting to see Fuyumi’s naked body excited you to no end, so you nodded. A second finger dipped into your folds, a moan muffled by the cloth sounding at the back of your throat. Slowly, she started to move them in and out of you, your juices from earlier helping to lubricate your walls and make it easier for her to pleasure you. If anything, you thought that you were going to be the one pleasuring her, but in this instance, you were completely and utterly at her mercy. She had you right where she wanted you. 

Completely.

Already you could feel your core tightening up, wanting so badly to release, to see the look on her face as she watched you crumble. Her pace continued to grow faster as she noticed your walls closing in on fingers. 

“You’re unraveling right before my eyes. You look so lovely like this, Y/N.” Her voice echoed throughout your mind, and right before you were ready to let yourself go… 

...she took her fingers out of you, sticking them in her mouth without you even knowing and leaving you wanting more. An overwhelming urge to try and break the rope binding you filled you, but you knew that wouldn’t help or solve anything. Instead, trying to wait and see what Fuyumi would do was the best option. The vibrator that was previously sitting on the edge of the desks clanged against the metal, and the quiet hum sounded throughout the room. 

“I apologize for that, but I wanted to make sure you were ready enough to take in the vibrator…” She pressed it against your clit, and it took all of your willpower to not cum right on the spot. “I know how much you want to release, but I’m asking you not to. If you cum prematurely, I won’t hesitate to leave.” She forewarned, her free hand trailing up to grab your breast. 

“If you understand, nod.” 

You did as she said, nodding your head while still trying to keep a level head since the vibrator was still against your womanhood. 

“I’m feeling a bit generous, so I’ll take the blindfold off for this part.” Her fingers brushed up into your hair, untying the top piece of cloth and removing it. You… took in the sight of her, or rather as much as you could. She was the perfect image of an average woman, having no defining muscles, yet looking perfectly fit in your eyes. This was the daughter of the top pro hero, being nothing more than a teacher, yet having the body of a goddess. 

You could get used to this.

“You’re staring a little… are you feeling alright? Or perhaps the sight of my naked form caught you off guard?” For once she looked at you inquisitively, brows raised and arm moving back to pull the vibrator away from you. That same expression turned into a grin as soon as she got the memo, your eyes averting from her gaze. “Oh, I see. I’m flattered you like my appearance, Y/N. I might just have to consider this being more than just a one night stand.” 

There was no way she was being serious. After all, you were more than sure there were other men and women interested in a beauty like herself. The comment was brushed off as nothing as she surprised even herself, inserting the tip of the now turned off vibrator inside of you. Dear god, the feeling in and of itself was amazing, even without the vibration. It was an amazing distraction from prior thoughts, as you were now focused on trying to achieve your own bliss. 

The rest of the contraption was inserted soon after, and you found yourself trying to ride it on your own. It was no use, Fuyumi turning on the vibration setting yet again and causing you to shiver. She was teasing you, in turn causing her pleasure as well. What you didn’t expect was for her left hand to tug the gag out of your mouth. 

“Fuyumi, what are you-”

“I think it’s time for you to put your mouth to good use. You have to warm it up somehow, right? I want you to eat me out and suck up every last drop of my juices.” She switched her hand on the vibrator so she could get a leg over your body, sliding back so that her folds were pressed against your lips. “Again, cum before I do and I’ll get up and leave… I can just finish myself off somewhere else.” 

Even without tasting her directly, Fuyumi’s scent was sweet, juices coating your lips almost like lipgloss. Your tongue swirled around her folds, getting a sample of what you were going to be expecting. Sweet, but not too sweet. That was definitely something you could get onto. Lowering all the way onto your face, you started to dive in as below, she was working her magic on you with the vibrator. It definitely made it hard to concentrate, as all you wanted to do was cum and let the tension out of your body. 

Finally, a moan elicted from her, almost as delectable as the juices that practically brought your mouth to life. She didn’t sound husky, but her moan wasn’t of a high pitch, being a perfect medium. This drove you to push your head upwards, tongue darting in and out of her slick entrance and occasionally your mouth would suck and bite on her clit. Your own moans acted like a vibrator themselves, giving Fuyumi more pleasure than she had anticipated from just a mouth alone. 

“T-That’s it, Y/N, keep going. Don’t stop now.” She managed to get out, sliding her hips back and forth to get a new feeling of pleasure. “Keep it up, and I might just cum sooner than I expected.”

This was the final stretch. You had to hurry, or else you would end up releasing prematurely. The only sounds that could be heard in the room now were the sounds of the vibrator pounding into your flesh, the sounds of the desks wobbling, and the moans that spewed out of both you and Fuyumi. There was one particular spot that you ran over with your tongue even if it wasn’t very deep, causing her immense pleasure and her walls to clench. The vibration setting was on max by this point, your walls spasming and copying the same notion. 

“Y/N… cum for me!” 

There was no time to think about whether or not to stop yourself. Your back arched up off the metal of the desks, complete and utter bliss taking over your body as Fuyumi released at the same time. If anyone else was in the school by sheer coincidence, you hoped to god that they couldn’t hear the two of you. Waves of sheer pleasure overwhelmed you, and after it was all said and done, the attractive woman sitting on your face waited for you to, like she said, taste every last drop of her before hopping off of you and removing the vibrator. Your juices flowed out like a stream, and she took a finger to scoop some out and have a taste.

“You’re a mixture of sweet and salty. Not bad.” She went back over to the podium to grab her glasses and put them on, being able to see clearly again. “If I had gone longer without my glasses, I’m sure I would’ve had a massive headache.” 

You sat up, but there was still the problem of your wrists being tied together. 

“Uh… you don’t think you could untie me, could you?” Fuyumi’s eyes lit up when she remembered, grabbing the loose ends and releasing you. “Thank you… I almost thought I was going to stay in that forever.”

“Not forever, just until someone else noticed. I’m really sorry about almost forgetting, though! I’m glad you thought to mention that.” She went over to a small desk in the corner, grabbing a box of tissues and cleaning the excess mess that was on not only your womanhood, but the desks as well. “This is just a temporary fix. I can clean the tops of the desks after I rearrange them.”

“You think you’re going to do that alone? I was the one who made most of the mess, at least let me help you.” You got off the desks and put your clothes back on as quickly as you could, Fuyumi following suit. When the two of you were finished getting dressed, she giggled softly, causing you to tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I’m surprised you wouldn’t want to go ahead and leave.” She walked over to the window, looking outside at the night sky.  “This was just supposed to be a one night stand, after all… but what I said earlier was the honest truth. I’d like to get to know you better as a person, not just someone to have sex with, Y/N. I’m sure you have just as beautiful of a personality as a body.”

“Hey, that’s my line!” You retorted in a half-joking manner, smiling. “But… I do agree with you. You’re such an interesting and fun person, and I could tell that from our sexual experience, Fuyumi Todoroki.”

“Am I, really? Did the ‘taking charge’ fiasco get to your head?” Looking back at you, she smiled, the moonlight highlighting her face and making for quite the dreamlike scenario. “I never gave you a proper kiss, did I? I was just letting my instincts take-”

You didn’t think. You just did it. You closed the small gap between the two of you and pulled Fuyumi into a tender, chaste kiss. Arms wrapped around her to pull her closer, she wrapped her own around your neck. It was almost like a fantasy, something that only happened in fairytales.

To you, this was truly the start of something special.

[atamascolily]

more before the storm quotes

In which Luke is in fucking quarantine, I kid you not:

Sealed behind opaque walls, he lived in darkness for days at a time, barely conscious of hunger, thirst, or other bodily demands. He wore clothing only out of habit, but the habit weakened. The winds howled outside the hermitage, but Luke was oblivious to them. He took no notice of the sun or moons in their courses, the rise and fall of the tide, the ever-changing sky painted in light and cloud.

Yup, I called it. Dude is depressed. Or at least he is until Destiny knocks in the form of an attractive woman.

He took her at first for a projection, because it was unthinkable that anyone could have passed through the walls, his screens, without alerting him. But then he touched her bare arm, and touch told him her skin was real, and warm. He circled her, and scent told him of salt air, dead quarrelgrass crushed underfoot, a body bathed in flowers, a hint of the taint of the old oils and clinging vapors that hung on one’s person after a long flight.

“Explain yourself,” he said when he had circled around to face her again.

Oh, and then there’s this bit, which is a little too mind-rapey for me:

As rudely as his visitor had invaded his hermitage, Luke suddenly invaded her mind, probing the secret place where sensitivity to the Force resided. If she possessed the sort of talent her words claimed for her, he should be thrown halfway across the room when the ancient reflex repelled his mental touch. It was so with every Jedi he had probed, every candidate he had brought to Yavin for training.

YOU NEED A BETTER SYSTEM, THAT’S ALL I’M SAYING. Like, everyone made fun of the midi-chlorian test, but at least it was a blood sample, and not, you know, barging into somebody’s mind without permission??

Ah, the days when we knew absolutely nothing about Luke’s mother (not that this series will shed any more light on the matter, but still).

wow, Akanah is very clearly projecting onto Luke here in retrospect. nice foreshadowing there.

there’s actually a really interesting AU in assuming Luke’s mother really is like Akanah describes, tho.

Oh, and here we go:

“Perhaps that is why you cannot let yourself love without fear,” Akanah said softly. “Perhaps that is why you have no children of your own. You must fear that you will repeat your family’s tragedy in another generation. You must fear that someday you will find yourself ready to kill your own son, and him ready to kill you.”

AHHHHH, this is really good! A++++ Let’s talk about breaking the cycle of pain and violence and TRAUMA, everybody! AAAAAAAH. 

“I will wait here, if you want to return to Yavin for your testing equipment,” she offered. “But I can tell you what you would see—nothing. The White Current is not the Force you know, only with a different name. But it is a manifestation of the All. I will teach you what I can.”

There’s this continued emphasis on Leia, which is interesting - iirc, the Fallanassi are matriarchal, but in a very different way from Dathomir. Interesting.

Also, this is interesting in light of the civilian-military balance:

Technically, the E-wing was on loan to the Jedi academy for training purposes, but only because there was no provision in the quartermaster’s regulations for loaning a front-line starfighter to a civilian. Ackbar had persuaded him that, given the unpredictability of life, it was far more sensible for him to have a fully armed E-wing at his disposal than an unarmed sprint, ketch, or runabout.

“Think of yourself as a member of the Republic’s militia. And a militiaman should have his weapon at home with him, in the event he is called on again,” Ackbar had said.

Luke had accepted that argument reluctantly. But in the months before he returned to Coruscant, he had become more and more uncomfortable in the E-wing’s cockpit. It was a heavily armed killer, an intimidator, an unspoken threat wherever it appeared. As such, it represented a part of his life that he was trying to leave behind.

His X-wing had fit him like a second skin, like an extension of himself. He had taken joy in flying it, even in battle. But that had been another, younger Luke. The E-wing was different. It was an embarrassment, an ugly set of clothes he was forced to wear when he went out in public. And he missed the familiar presence of Artoo, who simply did not fit—physically or electronically—in the E-wing’s R7 astromech interface.

One last time, he thought. Then maybe they’ll let me give it back.

Luke, it’s okay to just come out and say you prefer X-wings.

WOW Leia feels OOC here re: Luke’s attitude towards Vader, given that SHE keeps having issues about it herself. Also, did someone let the parentage thing slip at some point?? When did that happen, exactly?

“You don’t have to remind me about that,” said Leia, shrugging into a white robe and tying the sash in a bow. “But I’m the one who has to deal with it, not Luke. I’m the one who gets accused and screamed at and threatened, not Luke. And I’m handling it.”

The reactions of all the people at the port are hilarious, though:

It was as though they couldn’t pass up a chance to see Luke Skywalker but were too intimidated by his status to risk trying to shake his hand, clap him on the back, or even speak to him. He felt less a celebrity than a curiosity, more a dead legend than a living hero.

Luke wished they would all just go away. He had no interest in being celebrity or curiosity, legend or hero.

LOL.

He seemed so serious—

So mysterious—

He floated to the ground like a leaf—

He was as close to me as I am to you—

He smiled at me—

I never thought I’d have a chance to meet him—

You can tell just looking at him that he’s a Jedi—

You can tell just looking at him what he’s been through—

Luke closed his eyes in relief as the airspeeder took flight.

Luke refuses to listen to Leia’s refusal that she doesn’t want to go down Memory Lane, ugh. Leia has been dealing with a whole stream of women claiming to be her mother, and I’m only surprised that hasn’t happened to Luke.

“Listen to me—we’re never going to have a tidy family tree,” Leia snapped. “Why can’t you realize? We’re never going to know our parents better than we do right now. We’re never going to have fond stories of our grandparents to tell our children. We’re better off telling them about Owen and Beru, about Bail—the real people who cared for us, protected us, loved us like we were their own. You make too much of blood.”

YOU TELL HIM LEIA. Also, it’s so hypocritical of Luke to tell Leia she has to deal with her Jedi children alone and then pull a stunt like this. Yes, he’s depressed. No, that’s not an excuse.

[adevotedappraisal]

Magdalene by FKA Twigs, a review.

I’ve been learning some shit from women from as long as I’ve been alive. Always some other shit that I never asked for but I got told it.  I used to treat them things they said as laws as a child, but I never saw them in a book, so then I stopped believing them.  They were always hushed laws though, laws told with squinted eyes and italicized whispers, laws told when no one else was around.

I mean, now of course men make the real laws that we know and live by.  Well come on now, we write them on parchment, and display them on lights, we code them into computers, inscribe them on coins and stone. But these women…man women tell you some other shit, like glue shit, in low, muttered tones in the quiet part of the house.  Like advice on… well not how the world works, but how to deal with the world when it works against you, and how to make it work for you. But you see, I’ve come to believe that the fairer sex tells you different laws than the vaunted laws and advice of our fathers because they all around see the world differently than men do.  They may, in fact, have been harbouring different goals than us all along.  

I mean for christssakes us men have our hero’s journey as clear as day, writ large and indelible across history books and entertainment.  You could take that Joseph Campbell mono-myth theory and see it expressed in Arthurian swash-buckle, the middle earth ring-slaying of Tolkien, or in the recently concluded tri-trilogy of Star Wars galactic clashes.  We’re in the empire business, as Breaking Bad’s Walter White infamously said.  But still, the question always lingered to me: what is the heroine’s journey? Is it really just a lady in a knight’s armour? Or some tough-as-nails spy for some interloping government’s intelligence agency, delivering kidney kicks in a designer pencil skirt?

Well, I’ve come to believe that the heroine’s journey is navigating the waves of history we imperial and trans-national men make from our railroads and pipelines, our satellites and wars, them at once preserving a culture and sparking a path and creating a bond between cultures in order for them and their (il)legitimate brood to survive.  That old chestnut about how behind every successful man is a woman always unnerved me by its easy adoption. I kept thinking ‘bout that woman.  I kept thinking, what the fuck was she thinking?

You see women’s heroes, they ain’t as clear as day to me.  They don’t kill the dragon, they don’t save the townspeople, they don’t shoot the Sherriff, or the deputy, or anyone most times. When I ask people in public at my job what super power they would like, most men go for strength, flight, and regenerative abilities (my pick).  Most women went with mind reading and flight. In late night conversations though, with the moonlight coming through the white blinds and resting soft on us like so, I sometimes manage to hear that women’s heroes heal and clean the sick of the nation, in sneakers with heels as round as a childhood eraser; they feed a family with one fish and five slices of wonder bread; they would run gambling spots in the back of their house, putting the needle back on the Commodores record and patrolling the perimeter of the smoked-out room with a black .45 nested by their love handles; they climb up flag poles and speak out loud in public for the disposed and teach children those unwritten, floating laws while cloistered in the quiet part of the house.  

Although their heroines are sometimes from the top strata of society –a Pharaoh here, an Eleanor Roosevelt there, an Oprah over there—they also name a healthy mix of radicals and weirdos with modest music success, people like Susan B. Anthony, Frida Kahlo, Virginia Woolf, or Nikki Giovanni, I mean did Nina Simone or Janis Joplin even crack the Billboard top ten? Yet there they are, up on the walls of a thousand college dorms across the country.  So even though I couldn’t’ve foreseen it, it makes sense that of all the ultra-natural creatures, of all the great conquering kings and divining prophets of the Holy Bible, Mary Magdalene ends up the spirit animal for the album of the year for 2019.

Mary Magdalene was a follower of Jewish Rabbi Jesus during the first century, according to the four Gospels of the New Testament of the Bible, a figure who was present for his miracles, his crucifixion and was the first to witness him after his resurrection.  From Pope Gregory I in the sixth century to Pope Paul VI in 1969, the Roman Catholic Church portrayed her as a prostitute, a sinful woman who had seven demons exorcised from her.  Medieval legends of the thirteenth century describe her as a wealthy woman who went to France and performed miracles, while in the apocryphal text The Gospel of Mary, translated in the mid-twentieth century, she is Jesus’ most trusted disciple who teaches the other apostles of the savior’s private philosophies.

Due to this range of description from varying figures in society, she gets portrayed in differing ways, by all types of women, each finding a part of Magdalene to explain themselves through.  Barbra Hershey, in the first half of Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) plays her as a firm and mysterious guide, a rebellious older cousin almost, while Yvonne Elliman, in Norman Jewison’s 1973 film adaptation of Lloyd Weber’s Jesus Christ Superstar is lovelorn and tender throughout, a proud witness of the Word being written for the first time.  In “Mary Magdalene,” FKA Twigs, the Birmingham UK alt-soul singer, describes the woman as a “creature of desire”, and she talks about possessing a “sacred geometry,” and later on in the song she tells us of “a nurturing breath that could stroke you/ divine confidence, a woman’s war, unoccupied history.” Her vocals that sound glassy and spectral in the solemn echoes of the acapella first third, co-produced by Benny Blanco, turn sensual and emotive when the blocky groove kicks in.  That groove comes into its own on the Nicolas Jaar produced back third, and when this all is adorned with plucked arpeggios it sounds like an autumnal sister to the wintry prowl of Bjork’s “Hidden Place” from her still excellent Vespertine (2001). 

This blending of the affairs of the body and of Christian theology is found in the moody “Holy Terrain” as well.  While it is too hermetic and subdued to have been an effective single, it still works really well as an album track.  In this arena, Future is not the hopped up king of the club, but a vulnerable star, with shaded eyes and a heart wrapped up in love and chemicals, sending his girl to church with drug money to pay tithes.  Over a domesticated trap beat he shows a vulnerable bond that can exist, wailing his sins and his devotion like a tipsy boyfriend does in the middle of a party, or perhaps like John the Baptist did, during one of his frenzied sermons, possessed and wailing “if you pray for me I know you play for keeps, calling my name, calling my name/ taking the feeling of promethazine away.”

Magdalene, the singer’s sophomore release, takes the mysterious power and resonance of this biblical anti-heroine, and involves its songs with her, these emotional, multi-textured songs about fame, pain and the break up with movie star boyfriend Robert Pattinson.  With “Sad Day,” Twigs sings with a delicate yet emotional yearning, imbued with a Kate Bush domesticity. The synth pads are a pulsing murmur, and the vocal samples are chopped and rendered into lonely, twisting figures.  The drums crash in only every once in a while, just enough to reset the tension and carve out an electronic groove, while the rest of the thing is an exercise in mood and restraint, the production by twigs, Jaar and Blanco, along with Cashmere Cat and Skrillex, leaves her laments cosseted in a floating sound, distant yet dense and tumultuous, the way approaching storm clouds can feel.   Meanwhile “Thousand Eyes” is a choir of Twigs, some voices cluttered and glittering, some others echoed and filled with dolour. “If you walk away it starts a thousand eyes,” she sings, the line starting off as pleading advice and by the close of the song ending up a warning in reverb, the vintage synths and updated DAWs used to create these sparse, aural haunts where the choral of shes and the digital ghosts of memory can echo around her whispered confessional.

In many of these divorce albums, the other party’s role in the conflict is laid bare in scathing terms: the wife that “didn’t have to use the son of mine, to keep me in line�� from Marvin Gaye’s Here My Dear from 1979; the players who “only love you when they’re playin’” as Stevie Nicks sang on Fleetwood Macs Rumours (1977); or as Beyonce’s Lemonade (2017) charges, the husband that needs “to call Becky with the good hair.”   At first though, Twigs is diplomatic, like in “Home with me,” where she lays the conflict on both sides here, expressing the rigours of fame, the miscommunication –accidental or intentional –that fracture relationships, and the violent, tenuous silence of a house where one of the members is in some another country doing god knows what, physically or mentally. “I didn’t know you were lonely, if you’d just told me I’d be home with you,” she sings in the chorus over a lonely piano, while the verse sections have the piano chords flanked by blocks of glitch, and littered with flitched-off synths. Then, the last chorus swirls the words again, along with the strings and horns and everything into a rising crescendo of regret.

Later in the album however, her anger once smoldering is set alight, in the dramatic highlight “Fallen Alien.” Twigs sings with an increasing tension, as her agile voice morphs from confused, pouting girlfriend to towering lady of the manor, launching imprecations towards a past lover and perhaps fame itself. “I was waiting for you, on the outside, don’t tell me what you want ‘cuz I know you lie,” she sings, and, after the tension ratchets up becomes “when the lights are on, I know you, see you’re grey from all the lies you tell,” and then later on we have her sneering out loud “now hold me close, so tender, when you fall asleep I’ll kick you down.”  All while pondering pianos drop like rain from an awning, tick-tocking mini-snares and skittering noises flit across the beat like summer insects, the kicks of which are like an insistent, inquisitive knocking at the door, and then there’s that sample, filtered into an incandescent flame, crackling an  I FEEL THE LIGHTNING BLAST! all over the song like the arc of a Tesla coil. The song is a shocking rebuke, and it becomes apparent upon replays that the songs are sequenced to lead up to and away from it, the gravitational weight giving a shape and pace to the whole album.  Because of this, the other songs on Magdalene have more tempered, subtle electronic hues and tones, as if the seductive future soul of 2013s “Water Me” from EP2, and the inventive, booming experimentation of “Glass & Patron” from 2015s M3LL1SSX, were pursed back and restrained until it was needed most, and this results in an album more accomplished, nuanced and focused than her impressive but inconsistent debut LP1 (reviewed here).  

This technique of electronic restraint has shown up in the most recent albums by experimental pioneers, with the sparse, mournful tension of Radiohead’s A Moon Shaped Pool (2017), it’s cold, analog synths and digital embellishments cresting on the periphery of the song, and with Wilco’s Ode to Joy from last year, an album bereft of their lauded static and electric scrawl, mostly embossed in acoustic solitude and brittle, wintery guitar licks.  Twigs and her co-producers take the same knack for the most part throughout the album, like with closer “Cellophane,” where the dramatic voice and piano are in the forefront, while effects crunch lightly in the background like static electricity in a stretched sweater, and elsewhere, as the synths of “Daybed” slowly intensify into a sparkling soundscape, as if manufacturing an awakening sunrise through a bedroom window.  And it is this seamless melding of organic and electronic instruments, to express these wretched and fleeting emotions of heartbreak that makes this the album of the year.

It makes sense that an artist like FKA Twigs would be drawn to a figure like Mary Magdalene.  Of the many Marys in the New Testament, she stuck out as palpably different, or rather, she depicted a differing part of womanhood than the other two.  She wasn’t the chaste, life-giving mother of Jesus, or the dutiful Mary of Clopas. Instead, Magdalene was this mixture of sexuality and spirituality, one of those figures that managed to know men and women in equal measure, wrapped up with the blood as well as the flesh.  Twigs also played with this enrapturing sexuality in her work, writhing around in bed begging some papi to pacify her and fuck her while she stared at the sun, then making you identify with the lamentations of video girls, and then telling you in two weeks you won’t even recognize who you were seeing before.  There was something mysterious and layered to her millennial art-chick sexpot act though, layers that have begun to be revealed with this album.  

We realise now, that what she was depicting all along was more like the sexual heat that lays underneath devotion, as opposed to fleeting, mayfly lust, and that she now understands the weight and half-life of love.  That is, that beyond the sex and patron and fame there is a near sacred love we build between each other for a while in time, lasting as long as both hands can bear to hold it, and also that the death of a relationship still has the memory of the love created warm within it that then radiates off slow into the air.  A love that then falls into our minds for safekeeping dark and unobstructed now, the way Jesus’ blood fell from his wound into Joseph of Arimathea’s grail held aloft.  

“I never met a hero like me in a sci-fi,” FKA Twigs sings, an evocative line less so for the hegemonic patriarchy of the worldwide movie and comic book industry suggested by ‘the sci-fi’ here, and more for the ‘hero like me’ part, which suggests she had to make her hero origin story all up, without the scaffolding of centuries of relatable mythologies, presenting us with an avatar of millennial love, in all of its tortured luster.  And you hear this type of love in her voice, no longer changed up and ran through a filter for Future Soul sophistication most times, but out in the open now, to express particular emotions, whether it’s in that swooping, falling ‘I’ in the heart-break closer “Cellophane,” or her assured realisation, later on “Home With Me” where she says “But I’d save a life if I thought it belonged to you/ Mary Magdalene would never let her loved ones down.”  

It’s never about how to conquer with these women you see.  In the end of all relationships it’s how they find their way out after us temporarily embarrassed conquerors are about to leave, jacket slung over shoulder, standing by the door. You squint your eyes back at her this time, and you listen this time, while she tells you, or tells the ground in front of you, what parts of love to let go of, and what parts are worth holding on to in this age of Satan, the parts that will help you become yourself. “I wonder if you think that I could never help you fly,” the song tells you then, one of those stinging admissions that only women come up with, and you wisely stay silent, and then the piano chords part, the synths subside. And for a while there as she looks at you, as the breathy sortilege in the song keeps going, it all sounds like something worth believing in again.  And then, the words she says to you start to come across like laws.

[blackbatsnwitchshats]

New Opportunities

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Everyone is brought up to speed as plans are made and expanded upon. The best is yet to come as the shadow of terror looms over Japan's future heroes.

________________

All For One sat frozen still as he watched the city streets pass by through the rear passenger window. Kurogiri's words rolled through his head, filling him with a mixture of disgust and anger. He'd wondered why one of their old vehicles had been dragged out when they could have simply warped, and he guessed this was the answer to that question.

"Doctor Ujiko installed a camera... in my bedroom... and has likely been watching me the entire time I've been incapacitated. Possibly even longer..."

"I'm afraid so."

His stomach churned at the thought. There was absolutely no reason for it. Not after he'd been deemed well enough to function on his own.

Perhaps it could have been used to monitor him while he was still in a coma or for a short period afterwards, but even that was far-fetched. There were far better utilities for that purpose; a heart monitor would have done such a job just fine, and, with how intelligent Doctor Ujiko was, he could have even synced it up to his other electronics. Like he'd clearly done with the camera. However, there was a big, glaring flaw with that logic.

He hadn't been recovering in his bedroom, he'd been recuperating in a separate room near the doctor's lab.

Based on that fact alone, the camera had no purpose existing within his private space.

There was a stinging heat in his eyes, but All For One angrily blinked the damning feeling away. It wasn't like the concept of the doctor betraying him was new to him or surprising in any way. No matter what angle he looked at it from, it was expected that something bad would happen from the get go. Something was bound to give. He just hadn't thought it'd be in such an personal manner.

He'd never liked being photographed or videotaped; not even with friends or his brother before taking up his mantle. The way he saw it, nothing good ever came out of either thing. Photos and videos were evidence of his crimes at best and blackmail to use against him at worst.

Yet another thing he'd learned the hard way.

He slowly breathed in and out, counting each breath. He didn't allow himself to sniffle, not while he was in such a small space where Kurogiri could potentially hear him. Not only that, but he wasn't an infant and he had zero intentions of bawling like one.

It would be a waste of time and energy that could be better used on other things.

Like getting out of the situation entirely.

All For One sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'll have to start looking for a new safehouse as soon as possible."

"There's no need." Kurogiri commented.

All For One furrowed his brow at him through the rearview mirror. "Why is that?"

"Because I've already taken the liberty of doing so," Kurogiri said, glancing back. "I began compiling a list of potential residences the same evening I discovered the camera."

"Oh... thank you."

"You're welcome."

Awkward silence filled the car. Kurogiri's eyes never strayed from the road and All For One kept silent, not wanting to reveal just how upset he really was. Neither of them felt any desire to break the tension even as it grew terribly uncomfortable.

Finally, Kurogiri asked, "Where do you plan on staying? The bar or...?"

All For One clenched his fists and willed his voice not to crack. "The bar. I have numerous safehouses throughout Japan, but whether they are truely 'safe' is in question. Have you and Tomura been routinely sweeping the apartments above the bar?"

"Yes. I also gave Tomura instructions to double check every room as a precautionary measure before I left to pick you up. He should be done by the time we arrive."

"Good," All For One said firmly before letting out a huff, "I'd have preferred that Tomura didn't know about my situation at all, but the doctor has forced my hand. I have no way of knowing if he's tampered with any of my safehouses and I'm not going to make myself vulnerable just to find out. Not while he still has Johnny at his disposal."

Kurogiri nodded, "That's likely for the best."

________________

Upon arriving at the bar, All For One allowed Kurogiri to take the lead.

He'd hoped he could just slip in unnoticed, but of course he wasn't so lucky. The moment he stepped through the door, he heard Tomura complain, "What the hell, Kurogiri! You said you were going to go get Sensei! Who's the brat?"

Huffing, All For One glared at him. Then he smirked. Rather than responding angrily, he asked, "Why don't you ask him yourself, Tomura?"

He watched as his successor choked on his own spit, because the voice that had come out of his mouth wasn't a voice belonging to some random child but rather one he was well acquainted with.

Tomura gaped at him, red eyes shifting rapidly between him and Kurogiri. Seeing this, All For One snickered. Clearly he'd caught him off-guard.

Chuckling, he raised an eyebrow. "Now do you know who I am?"

"Sensei?" Tomura questioned, dumbstruck.

"In the flesh."

Tomura quieted for a moment, then asked, "This is what Kurogiri meant when he said that meeting of yours went sideways, isn't it?"

"Bingo."

"Oof."

"That sums it up nicely, yes."

Kurogiri coughed into his fist, grabbing their attention. "Now that the two of you are settled... Tomura, did you find anything?"

"Yeah, I did," Tomura sneered. "In the one spot we didn't think to look. Cameras were all over Sensei's old office like ants on sugar. On top of the doorframe, in his desk and filing cabinets, even the damn bathroom."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny camera, handing it to Kurogiri. "This is the last one. I destroyed the rest."

"Good, that's one less thing for us to worry about," All For One heaved out a breath of relief, nodding in approval. Then he looked up to Kurogiri as he stepped out from behind him. "Is it whose we think it is?"

"Yes, unfortunately it is," Kurogiri sighed before he created a portal and dropped the small device through.

Tomura looked at the both of them, curious, "Did I miss something? Whose was it exactly?"

All For One ran a hand through his hair. "Doctor Ujiko's."

"I don't know who that is."

"Doctor Ujiko is the man who performed emergency surgery on Sensei after his battle with All Might and the scientist behind the Nomu we've been talking about implementing," Kurogiri explained. "You only saw him briefly, but he's the short, mustached man with strange goggles."

"Oh... him. Yeah, I can't say this is all that surprising then. I had a feeling he was a creep."

Tomura eyed All For One. "Why do we associate with him again?"

"Because I thought he'd be useful," All For One answered as he leveraged himself up onto a barstool, "And, to be fair, he was and is. I just underestimated his propensity for stalking anyone and anything he thinks he can potentially use in his creations. Unfortunately, that seems to include me."

"I know these Nomu or whatever they're called are supposed to be great and all, but do we really need them now that you're healed?" Tomura asked nonchalantly, "As powerful as you say they are, they can't possibly compete with you, can they? It'd be like comparing a noob to a master gamer."

All For One grimaced and glanced away from the young man. "About that, Tomura... I'm unable to truly use my quirk at this point in time."

"What do you mean?" Tomura raised a brow at him. "You can't use your quirk? Why?"

"No," All For One corrected, "I can use my quirk. I just can't use it in its entirety."

"Sensei's been nerfed, essentially," Kurogiri clarified.

Tomura's jaw dropped. "Well... that's fucked..."

"Yes, it is."

"Do we have any plan we could use aside from the Nomu?" Tomura asked as he lightly scratched his neck.

"A tentative one," All For One confirmed, "It all depends on when we find the man who nailed me with their quirk."

"What is it?"

"I'm assuming Kurogiri has informed you of our plan to plant a spy within U.A. High?"

Tomura nodded. "Yeah."

"We've come to the decision that I will be the one going undercover if it turns out this transformation is permanent."

Tomura's eyebrows rose simultaneously before they fell in contemplation. The young man thought for a bit then asked, "What if someone finds out it's you?"

All For One shrugged. "I'll likely be caught and incarcerated within Tartarus."

"Why not just say you're your own kid? I mean, it's not like they can put you in prison just for being "related" to a villain, right?" Tomura pointed out, "You've said before that laws were made against that."

Surprise flitted across All For One's face as Kurogiri continued where Tomura left off, "Tomura is correct, Sensei. Claiming yourself as your own child in the event anyone suspects anything would provide you with a foolproof cover. It's common knowledge that children tend to pick up their parents mannerisms as they grow older after all. Not only would it excuse any slip-ups, it would also explain away your behavior, your world views, and perhaps even your quirk."

All For One grinned. "I'd completely forgotten about that. It's an excellent idea."

"I'm going to add another layer though," he continued, "Knowing that cheeky rat, he'll figure things out far quicker than anyone else. So what do we do? We make it obvious. I go in as my own child, a red herring so to speak, and you two send someone else in as a secondary spy. I'll leave whoever it is up to you; we don't want to lose any plausible deniability I may have should I be found out."

"And if we get someone instated soon, they'll have the next two years to blend in while you make your papertrail before attending U.A. High." Kurogiri added

Tomura smiled wildly. "They'll never know what hit them."

"It's all settled then!" All For One clapped his hands together and hopped off his seat. "Let's hope everything works out in our favor."

________________

As they watched All For One disappear up the stairs leading to the apartments, Tomura turned to Kurogiri with his smile gone from his face. "Between you and me, Kurogiri... I'm hoping he stays this way."

"You and me both, Tomura." Kurogiri agreed as he slipped behind the bar counter, "I don't think I've ever seen Sensei so... open, I suppose would be the word?"

"He's praised me plenty of times before, but he's never been so genuine about it..."

"I noticed that too. Though he seems hesitant about it, I think this entire event will do him some good. So long as we keep him away from Doctor Ujiko, everything should turn out fine."

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.9 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st 5:13 AM

Warren County, Illinois

While that call did not succeed in waking up Kyndra and Zoey, the aforementioned Diego was woken up, however, by his co-worker Quinn, as he lay napping on a tattered sofa in the SuperFuel Deluxe's break room.

“Diego!”

Diego grunted.

“Diego, get up,” Quinn slapped him with a blue rag.

Diego sat up and rubbed his eye.

“Customers.” Quinn said.

Diego blinked awake. The TV was on. A man with fake looking blonde hair stood in front of a map coated with splotches of reds, oranges, and yellows.

“ Lightning strikes have been reported just about everywhere as this severe cell moves through Warren and Carpenter counties. Listen up if you are in the areas of Russelville, Haddonfield, Langdon, Tuckerville...you are under a Severe Thunderstorm Warning and Tornado Watch ‪until 7:45 am‬. Check out this picture someone posted on social media, that's softball sized hail folks...this reported by Zeke, a custodian working late ‪night tonight‬ at Smith's Grove High School, so be careful out there folks.”

Thunder struck and the lights in the shop momentarily dimmed. Customers, Diego thought, in this storm?

Diego stood up and stretched and then grabbed his Mountain Dew he had swiped from the coolers a few hours ago. Stepping into the shop, he sure enough saw some guy was talking to Quinn, standing next to an old-ass station wagon. The kind that had the wood panels on the side. The bottom was eaten away with rust. Diego was surprised the thing was even running at all, and one of the first things he noticed were the California plates. The lifeless remains of a tire lay snaked around a severely dented rim on the front passenger side. Must have hit a curb without even braking, he thought.

Quinn pulled a clipboard off the dark blue tool bench next to him and said, “We actually just had one of these die on us last week and it's back there in the yard. We can replace the tire and the rim and fix up those tie rods and struts in a jiff. You got really got lucky, because otherwise you'd be waiting at least two days for parts.”

The man's eyes grew wide, “Are you serious?! That's a miracle if I ever heard one.”

“I'll say,” Diego chimed in, “What year is this?”

“1989 Ford Country Squire” Jack Tate said proudly.

“Wow,” Diego laughed. “Quinn's right, we literally just got one of these in, the drive train fell apart in our hands, literally fell apart. But it was much more beat up than this.”

“You don't say!?” Jack put his hands on his hips.

“I couldn't help but recognize the California plates,” Diego motioned to the back of the car, dropping to one knee to examine the wheel well.

“Yep,” Jack said, rubbing his chin, “We're from a small town in Northern California, between San Jose and Sacramento. It's called Summer Glen.”

“Bet you don't get much snow there,” Diego said from under the car.

“Nope..but I bet you guys do.”

Diego appeared from under the lopsided tire with a smile, “Buckets,” he replied, “And it wreaks havoc on an undercarriage.”

“I bet it does” Jack replied.

Diego stood up and wiped his hands on his coveralls. “Well, not so much the snow,” he said, “it's the salt they salt the roads with. Eats the bottom of the car all up.”

“So what do you do?” Jack asked.

“Heated car wash,” Diego said, reaching out his hand to Quinn for the clipboard.

“I saw signs for those on the way in, all over the place up here,” Jack said, “But I saw signs but then it looked like empty parking lots.”

Quinn smiled and handed Diego the clipboard, “With steam coming up?”

“I didn't see any steam,” Jack replied.

“They're probably turned off right now.” Diego remarked, looking over the paper on the clipboard.

Quinn whistled, “Whew don't I know it. It's been hotter than a hippo with a hernia.”

“Hmmm,” Jack grunted in agreement, “Climate Change.”

Quinn hissed, “Hogwash! I don't believe that bullshit for a second.”

Jack quickly changed the subject, “Anyways—err--how do car washes help your car in the winter?”

Quinn nodded, “You drive over the jets and they hose off your undercarriage with heated water”

“That's fascinating,” Jack smiled.

“Well,” Diego sighed, “We have the parts already so we'll charge you a $90 restocking fee, that's mostly 'cuz Quinn here has to run out in the rain and slip the rim and tie-rods off the old car.”

“Aww man, that's cold,” Quinn exclaimed.

“Good news is,” Diego continued, “You really didn't tear her up all that much besides that, you knocked some things loose but we can tighten her up. The labor will cost you $400 easy,, being on the weekend now, and then $140 for the tire, $126 for the rim, taxes and disposal and you're still under a grand.”

“That's wonderful,” Jack said, placing his hands back on his hips.

“What brings you out here?” Quinn asked, “Especially in this storm.”

“My wife got a job out here, she ‪starts Monday‬ so we wanted to get out here as quick as we could....drove straight through.” Jack remarked.

“Wow,” Quinn breathed.

“I need those parts Quinn,” Diego remarked, opening the top of the tool bench and pulling out a socket wrench.

“Oh right!” Quinn smiled. He walked over to the far wall and grabbed a yellow rain coat which hung on a peg next to a Calendar, still on the month of October. A model in a bikini presided over the tenth month. “What job did your wife get out here?” He called from across the room.

“She's going to be the new Chief of Medicine at the hospital,” Jack replied, his eyes on Diego as Diego crouched back down toward the car.

“Oh she's gonna replace old man Mixter!” Quinn remarked.

Jack shrugged.

“Hurry Quinn, this guy said he's got places to be,” Diego said from under the car.

“Oh right,” Quinn said and stepped through the side door that led into a small foyer and eventually either out to the front parking lot or back into the lot.

“So your wife's a doctor eh,” Diego's voice came from under the car, “so what do you do?”

“Well I'm a doctor too,” Jack replied.

Diego emerged from the car holding a twisted piece of metal, “Really? What kind?”

“Well I'm a psychiatrist,” Jack said.

Diego slid back under the car, “A shrink huh?” He said, “You opening up an office here or something?”

“Well no,” Jack laughed, “I'm actually going to take some time off and write a book.”

Diego re-emerged with more twisted metal, “Cool,” he said, “What about?”

“Hypnosis,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

Diego cocked his head to one side, “Really? You do that shit?”

“Swear by it,” Jack replied.

There was an awkward moment of silence and then they both laughed.

🎃

Meanwhile, Ophelia Tate had purchased a small and incredibly over-priced pack of baby wipes and was giving herself the best attempt at a bath she could muster inside the surprisingly clean restroom of the SuperFuel Deluxe. After she finished, she sat on top of a toilet and took an opportunity to catch up on social media.

While she sat in the stall reading about “11 Celebrities That You Would Never Assume Were Gay”, her son Damon stepped into the Food Mart, and wiped his perfectly white sneakers on the welcome mat. An angry looking Indian man looked up as the door bells jingled and then went back to fiddling with some electronic device behind the counter. Damon's first thought was, Why does he keep all that bullet proof glass open?

He casually turned to his left, starting down an aisle chock full of every imaginable brand of potato chip or chocolate or fruity candy---browsing but not really browsing, more just wasting time. The aisle came to a dead-end at a wall of coolers full of soda and water and fruit juices. Damon stopped and caught himself staring at a row of YooHoos when he heard what sounded like a snickering to his left.

There was a small hallway to the left of the coolers, veering off next to an ATM machine. He stepped in front of the ATM machine and peered down the hallway, at once spotting the cause of the commotion. Three young boys were standing in the corner next to a door marked: UTILITY, NO TRESSPASSING. One was a freckled redheaded kid with shiny braces dressed as batman, another was a blonde haired blue eyed boy dressed like Darth Vader, and the last was a much younger looking kid with brown hair and brown eyes dressed like some kind of zombie. They were huddled together, their masks all hanging limply around their necks, crowded around a magazine featuring a hot blonde titled RED RABBIT. The cover-girl’s name was apparently Misty Dawn, and according to the cover caption, she was “Back and Ready for More Action”.

The boys caught sight of Damon and looked up startled. The freckled redhead kid's smile disappeared and his eyes grew narrow, “Hey!” He called, “What are you looking at?”

Damon was unfazed. “Looks like a couple of pervs to me,” he said, stepping toward them.

This apparently took them aback because they said nothing in retort.

“Seriously,” Damon said, pointing at the cover, “How old are you guys?”

Blonde Vader who held the magazine in his hand pressed it to his chest as if it were the most valuable thing on the earth and looked up at Damon with his mouth open. Little zombie boy took a step back. But BatFreckle was not amused. “Why don't you go Fuck Off!”

Damon frowned, “That's not very nice language. Is everyone in this town pervs like you?”

“Where are you---” little zombie started in but BatFreckle cut him off.

“Don't you know that Warren County is the home of the Rabbit-in-Red? What hole did you crawl out of freak-show?”

“Rabbit-in-what?” Damon asked and with lightning speed, snatched the magazine from Blonde Vader.

“Hey!” The wannabe Sith Lord exclaimed.

“Rabbit-In-Red Productions is the world's third largest manufacturer of pornographic media dipshit, and the company is based here in Warren County.” BatFreckle spat.

“So it is a county full of pervs,” Damon said, opening the magazine and thumbing through the pages.

“My dad said a local bunch of church folks fought Mr. Martini in court over decency laws so much, the legal fees drove the church out of business.” Blonde Vader said.

“Shi-yeah,” BatFreckle said, “That's why old man Taylor's up in his house on the hill crying like a pussy all the time.”

“Mr. Who?” Damon asked, closing the magaize and handing it back to Blonde Vader.

BatFreckle snatched it instead and flipped to the table of contents, pointing to a ‪small black‬ and white picture of a middle-aged overweight man. “Lou Martini. He's the CEO of Rabbit-in-Red nimrod, he owns half the county and is like, the richest man in Illinois outside of Chicago.”

“Where are you from?” Little zombie found his place to ask.

“My parents and I are moving here from California, we just got in tonight, got a flat tire.” Damon replied.

“California! That's cool!” Blonde Vader exclaimed.

BatFreckle rolled his eyes, “Beat it California!” He said, “We were just checking out Spitz' mom in this month's issue.”

He and Blonde Vader started laughing.

“That's not my mom!” Little zombie, who's name was obviously Spitz, whined.

“Don't lie, you know it's her!” BatFreckle teased.

Blonde Vader turned the page, and the centerfold fell out, revealing the cover-girl Misty Dawn laying on a bed of white fur naked except for a silver belly chain and and black stilettos. A paper fell out as well and fluttered almost magestically to the floor. Damon bent down and picked it up. It was a flier that featured another picture of the model. The headline read:

SEE COVER GIRL

MISTY DAWN

TUE-SUN

OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER

AT THE

RABBIT-IN-RED LOUNGE

IN

HADDONFIELD

“Look Spitz” BatFreckle said in jest, “You can see your mom's show tonight if you want.”

“It's not my mom!” Spitz whined again.

“Why don't you leave him alone?” Damon said.

“Why don't you suck my balls?” BatFreckle snapped.

“Chill out Lonnie!” Blonde Vader slapped BatFreckle's shoulder and then looked at Damon “Lonnie can be a douche sometimes, I'm Richie Marshall, this is Lonnie Elamb, and he's Spitz. Welcome to Haddonfield.”

Lonnie groused and leaned back against the wall, opening up the porn.

“Cool, my name is Damon.”

“How old are you?” Richie asked.

“17, you?”

“I just turned 12, Lonnie is 16 but he's still in 8th grade...he has to go to special classes at the Middle School.” Richie and Spitz cackled.

“I have dyslexia fuck face!” Lonnie said, throwing the RED RABBIT at his friend.

“I'm 8,” Spitz said proudly.

“What are you doing out of the house at this time of night?” Damon asked, picking up the magazine from the floor and handing it back to Richie.

“Lonnie has his drivers license now, and I just snuck out of my house.” Richie said.

“What about you?” Damon asked, turning toward Spitz.

“His mom's a whore so she leaves him alone to go out fucking for quarters!” Lonnie called.

“Stop it Lonnie! She is not!” Spitz cried.

Damon ignored him and Spitz continued, “My mom works late nights at Jamie Lee's Diner, she doesn't get home till morning. My grandma watches me but she fell asleep and I...I snuck out too.”

“We just ate there coming in,” Damon said smiling.

“My mom is Taylor,” Spitz said.

“She was our waitress.” Damon replied.

“His mom's a slut!” Lonnie called.

Spitz started to whine but Damon put an arm around him, “Why do you hang out with this asshole? Is there anything else to do in this place than look at naked chicks?”

“There's an arcade in the driver's lounge, but I don't have any quarters.” Spitz said.

“Come on,” Damon said, “Show me where it is.”

Richie tossed Lonnie the magazine to followed Damon and Spitz. Lonnie caught it, rolling his eyes, he was perfectly happy right there looking at boobs.

🎃

Damon stepped into the shop area of the SuperFuel Deluxe and shook off the rain. There he saw his dad sitting on a folding chair listening, as another man held a lamp under their family station wagon from the Jurassic era. A third man was under the car working. The man holding the lamp was droning on and on about baseball. Damon didn't really care for baseball, or any sports for that matter.

“And then the Sox brought in their reliever, that guy Stroop, and he just completely fell apart. He hit two batters and walked another, and before you knew it the bases were loaded.” Quinn was saying.

Damon walked up to his dad. “Is that so---” Jack replied, but was startled when Damon tapped him on the shoulder.

“What is it son? You're not supposed to be back here.” Jack looked up at Damon.

“There's an arcade inside and I was wondering if you had any change on you?” Damon asked.

Jack leaned to one side and pulled his wallet out, withdrawing a 20 dollar bill. “Can they make change?” He asked.

“There's a change machine,” Damon said flatly, taking the money.

“You can play all of that, what the hell, it's been a long few days,” Jack said smiling.

Damon stuffed the twenty in his front pocket and turned, “Thanks,” he said.

“Tell your mom I'm in here,” Jack called after him.

“Haven't seen her,” Damon said as he walked out, without turning.

Quinn started up again, “So you know that big Dominican for the Cubs, Agu...Agu...something.”

“Aguilar,” Diego called from under the car.

“Yeah, Aguilar,” Quinn corrected himself. “Well he steps up to the plate and first pitch...bam!”

NEXT>>

[enkisstories]

Just like them

- Short Detroit Become Human fanfic starring Daniel - - Close enough to canon, not my Sims!AU - November 15, 2038 Park Avenue

Daniel placed his hand on the door lock. However, the device rejected his request almost instantly.

ACCESS DENIED

It wasn’t just a string of bright letters, the message additionally burned itself into the android brain. And although the narrative went that androids didn’t feel pain, the sharp sting of the “Nope” signal along with all the emotions it triggered in Daniel’s deviant mind were unpleasant to say the least.

“Shit!”

Daniel raised his hand – or rather, he moved his shoulder to lift the replacement arm and hand up, spare parts salvaged from other unfortunates that had found themselves in the DPD’s evidence archive. Just when the new limbs had started to feel less like prostheses and more like parts of himself, the android had to receive a reminder to the fact that this wasn’t the case. His real hand was lost and with it the RFID tag that would have opened the door to the Phillips apartment.

Daniel wondered briefly the key to which door he was carrying now, because some signal had gotten exchanged between the hand and the door lock. If there had been no key present at all, the door would just have stayed silent instead of bellowing its “Access denied” at the intruder.

A shutdown police auxiliary beyond repair had “donated” Daniel’s new legs, but also the hand? Daniel didn’t remember. It hadn’t mattered earlier that day when they had set him more or less free.

And now the android he was standing here, with an electronic cuff somewhere in his system, a novel worth of parole terms in his head, but fresh out of an emergency override keycard for his own home.

I should have went with that guy from Jericho when he offered it. But, noooooo, I HAD to do this alone, because I don’t NEED help at all. And I shouted at him, so there’s no turning back now. It’s getting dark anyway. And ‘sides, I have a right to this flat! It’s my inheritance, the pay for four years of service, no way I’m going to live in, what was it, a wrecked cruise ship or something? No way!

Tap,tap,tap… jingle,jingle,jingle… swoosh

Daniel exited the elevator and only when the doors closed behind him did he realize that he had just traveled downwards by one floor without actually having decided to do so.

Check. Deviant brain doing deviant stuff. They warned me about this.

Daniel’s subconsciousness had taken over, now the question was where had it taken him?

Looking around Daniel discovered that he was standing right in front of an apartment door, one hand raised slightly, obviously in an attempt to ring the doorbell. The nameplate that went with the bell read “Rasoya”.

Ah, right, that was familiar territory. The Rasoyas were the Phillips’ direct downstairs neighbors. They had helped them out by taking Emma when her parents were out and with sugar, flour and eggs that Caroline tended to forget to stock up in sufficient quantity. That had been before Daniel had joined the household, of course, but even with the Phillips owning a state of the art household assistant made by CyberLife now the families had remained… close?

I have always assumed we were close, but looking back I feel “habitually on speaking terms” is more precise.

Someone was stirring now inside the apartment and a female voice rose up:

“I think I heard someone at the door! Will you take a look?”

“Yes, it’s me!” Daniel shouted back, then rang the bell.

Someone was looking through a spyhole, not trusting the electronic security camera, then opened the door. Before it was fully open, Daniel already gasped at the person behind it: “Can I borrow a crowbar, please, Mrs. Rasoya? I need to break into the Phillips apartment!”

Mrs. Rasoya laughed so hard at this that the toddler boy she was holding was shaking violently. Reflexively Daniel grabbed him while Mrs. Rasoya was still trying to get a grip on herself. Eventually the woman said:

“Daniel Phillips – the most polite android revolutionary ever.”

“Calm down, calm down!” Daniel shushed the human. “I’m not with Markus or whoever, I don’t even have a clear idea what exactly’s going on!”

I mean, when have I ever? I lived in an illusion all my existence, believing myself appreciated… sheltered… Going by my experience Markus could just be another Connor: playing nice, but harboring ulterior motives.

“They just…”

Looking for a familiar term in all the madness that was the present, the android continued:

“…let me out of prison and here I am, but I can’t enter my own damn apartment!”

“Own dan apartment!” little Caden Rasoya repeated cheerfully, at which his grandmother demanded the kid to get returned to her.

“Raj, dear?” she called into the apartment and a few heartbeats later her adult son, Caden’s father, appeared. Raj was a gourmet chef and his body was certainly looking the part, although he tended to dress extremely casually at home.

“Would you accompany Danny here upstairs to break down the Phillips’s door, Raj?”

“You know what, mom?” Raj laughed out loud. “This is by far the most normal request I’ve heard those last few days.”

Daniel watched Mrs. Rasoya retreat into her home where she picked up an old handheld gaming device that she had been playing on. He heard Caden giggle. The TV was running, Caden giggled some more, but then listened intently to his mother, who was explaining something connected to the evening children’s show they were watching. Everything was so normal!

Why were the Rasoyas still here, Daniel wondered? Were the feeling that the worst was behind them and deeming it save to stay in Detroit, even though the president had arranged an evacuation of a scope that put to shame even the annual floods? Were these humans maybe just as attached to their territory as Daniel himself was? Regardless of the possible consequences? In retrospect, what if Caroline had still been here tonight? Or – was she, maybe?!

“Uh… Is Caroline…?” Daniel started asking Raj.

“Left Detroit. In fact, she didn’t even wait for the presidential nudge to do so.”

“Ah.”

Raj grabbed the doorknob and with his head motioned the android to join him.

“Come in!”

“But I need to…”

“No way I’m trying to kick in a sturdy apartment door, least of all with security still intact”, Raj explained. “And neither should you do that, with a criminal record on your head. You have one…?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all legit. The DPD knows I’m here, but, fuck, I should have asked for an escort to actually get into my home.”

“You certainly picked up some language there that you didn’t know before”, Raj commented, still more amused than wary. Definitely wary, too, but not to an extent that prevented the man from acting civilly.

“But what am I to do now?”

“You’ll want to take the balcony route, Daniel. Climb up from our balcony and find your door. It was never properly repaired after… the incident, you should be able to push it open easily.”

“That’s that Connor’s fault!” Daniel spat. “It doesn’t respect anything!”

And that were the last words he exchanged with the Rasoyas. Without even a “thanks” the deviant made haste towards the balcony, jumped onto the railing and started scaling the apartment building like an ape. A PL600 wasn’t particularly strong, but their dexterity and eye-hand-coordination had to be rated outstanding even compared to other androids. Daniel was also rather agile, although he suspected that was a personal feat, nothing hard-coded in his system specs. And of course his new PC200 legs were also contributing to his athletic ability.

*

Inside the Phillips home Daniel didn’t linger much in the apartment proper, but instead went straight to the fish tank in the floor.

“Huey, Dewey, Louie… everyone still there!” he noticed with relief. “It’s feeding time, gentlemen! – Hehe, yes, go for it! No need to fight, there’s more where this is coming from!”

Smiling the android watched the fish gorge themselves. When had been the last time they had been fed, he wondered? So typical of Caroline! Flaunting the family fortune, but possessed of a total disregard of actual living beings. Like those of the ornamental fish she had left behind to their fate. Or her android’s…

Daniel had never given his artificial lung much thought. They were just there, moving his chest to make him appear more lifelike. Now the deviant realized how this particular biocomponent came in handy: he sighed deeply.

Moving back into the apartment Daniel almost expected to find John’s tablet. Of course after all this time it wouldn’t be there anymore. Or at least it would no longer display the order confirmation for the AP700, where John had ticked the “Disposal of old device at no extra cost” option. There had been another option, also at no extra cost: to donate the old android to charity. It would have taken the man no longer than two minutes to choose an organization from a dropdown list, but John Phillips hadn’t wanted anybody to mooch from something he had payed good money for. He had said so aloud and that comment had alerted Daniel to what was going on in the first place.

John’s greed and antisocial tendencies might very well have saved my life!

Daniel shooed this thought and looked around some more.

Pictures of Emma, John and Caroline, sometimes alone, then again as a family or with various friends, were everywhere. Of their android there was no sign and hadn’t been before the incident. Daniel felt a little like visiting the Dursleys with all the pictures of Dudders and no hint whatsoever that another boy was living at Privet Drive…

He picked up one of the framed pictures. It showed the family gathered under a Christmas Tree. The spheres, bells, stars and pine cones were all made from real glass and in between hang handmade charms fashioned by Emma. The Phillips didn’t believe in anything transcendental, neither god, nor magic. But even so they had followed the traditions and actually gained something from them. There had been an unusual warmth around that time of year each year.

Daniel put back the photograph. Suddenly the glass ornaments were too bright, the fishtank next door too loud and even the carpet his feet were touching was too rough. The deviant hunkered down and buried his head in his arms. Thirium tried to get up and out through his nose. Daniel didn’t understand what was happening to him. His system status hadn’t been that bad this morning!

Stay in… stay in… I don’t want to die! Only, I feel like dying… But I don’t want to! It’s not fair!

Daniel had sat there hunched over and crying for a while, when suddenly the door rang. A jolt went through the android’s body. Daniel jumped up and the weak, but steady stream of skin fluid mixed with blue blood came to a halt. The android wiped it away and licked the thirium from his new fingers before opening the door.

“Hey, Geeta”, Daniel greeted the visitor. “Afraid I might shut down from sorrow all alone up here?”

The words sounded like an accusation…

“Nah.” Mrs. Rasoya shook her head. “Not you. In fact, I reckon you are unable to suicide.”

“Huh? How would you know?”

Geeta walked past Daniel. She grabbed one of the family photographs at random and turned it for Daniel to get a good look at it.

“Dogs take after their owners, children after their parents and androids… androids take after their masters.”

“That’s utter bullshit!” the deviant flared up. “And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t apply to me! I’m a de…”

“Deviant, Daniel? For deviants what I said goes even more so, because of your emotions.”

“I may have acquired some of those, so what?!”

“The Phillips couple, too, was never one for thinking before acting… for taking a step back from their desires… or for putting themselves into others’ shoes.”

Daniel started to yell again, but was cut short:

“What kindness they had, manifested indirectly only - in their little girl and in their household assistant.”

“Huh.”

“Not what you wanted to hear, I know.”

Daniel took the picture.

“Me? Being like them?”

“It’s true.”

The deviant smiled warmly, not unlike when he had watched his fishes. For several moments he stood there, content with the world and himself. But then he jerked around his arm and smashed the frame against the nearest wall.

“They never were my family!!!”

Geeta shrugged and said her goodbyes.

“You know where to find us if you want to borrow gelignite or whatever a modern deviant might need”, she said. The woman had meant it as a joke, but as she gently closed the door behind herself, she wasn’t so sure about that anymore.