#now that i have a not zero amount of followers i be giving myself expectations 🥹

[bbyobbyo]

hehe todays tmi from me: im so excited bc im wfh but at a cute cafe with a bestie tmrw!!! Life has been on the busier side but hopefully will get some time to write as well,,, i have so many wips/scenes that came from random moments of inspiration that i just havent been able to flesh into stories yet 😵‍💫

[cannedkopi]

After obsessing about the season 3 Kathony teaser for over a day now, I have the following observations:

I am pretty sure that the kiss was something Anthony wanted to do back during that country dance at the Harmony Ball. Both times we get that laughter and twirl! So where are the gifs comparing these two scenes? And why am I not skilled enough to make them myself?

The expression on Anthony’s face is the same he had when Kate arrived at Aubrey Hall. Again, I should consider learning how to make bloody gifs...

Kate looks so bloody gorgeous in that dress, it should be illegal! However, it appears to be waaaaay too modern. I mean, seriously, even as someone whose entire knowledge about Regency dress comes from watching an unhealthy amount of YouTube videos and googling, I can see that the silhouette is not Regency at all. And yes, I have seen the comments, that it appears to play into her Indian heritage, and I do hope this was indeed the intention behind it (if, so, then awesome and everything makes sense!), because otherwise, I will be very disappointed with the Bridgeton costume department. I never expected them to be historically accurate, but come on!

Anthony’s waistcoat matches Kate’s dress and that is just so, so brilliant!

Overall, Kate looks so much more mature in this teaser. In season 2, she was visually still this young girl and now she looks like the grown woman and viscountess that she is. And it’s awesome.

Anthony is now actually even tempered when it comes to his sister’s debut! Can you imagine Daphne asking for a moment to herself and season 1 Anthony being all “of course”? No? Neither can I.

No gloves AND a kiss (and that cheeky, cheeky grin!)! My, my Lord and Lady Bridgeton might be married bit this is still sooo very much improper! Please give us more of that in season 3!

I am excited for Francesca! She seems to be so different from both Daphne and Eloise and I am all there for it!

I think I have spotted Lord Debling in the background. Mhm....

I feel kind of sad for Penelope, standing there all by herself and clearly feeling very much self-conscious. And this seems to be the same ball from the previous teaser with Pen telling Colin off!  Interesting.

Polin fans, I feel you that you are disappointed that there was no Polin content this time around. I get it because this is how us Kathony fans felt after the last live event, when we did not even get the smallest bit of info on our ship. Like nothing! Zero! Nada!

I know this I totally not going to happen, but I still want Kathony to get as much screen time as that damn Featherington heir/ ruby mine scam plot in season two. I will be more than just happy if we get that (but yeah, I am a realist...).

[glitchxinthematrix]

IRREDEEMABLE

Part 4

Love, a concept so complicated to even grasp and yet, every single soul in the universe end up craving it. I have had my share of the cravings, but, news flash, it all resulted in me being left alone stranded. So the concept is now hid safe inside a box. buried deep down somewhere inside, and at times like these I hear the faint screaming it does from the suffocation, all for some acknowledgement. And now, Geto, Love? The one minute he stared longer? Gojo's words kept replaying in my head on my way to find Suguru.

I wouldnt run my thoughts any deeper into this, i mean why should i? what did he do about this? how long has this been going on, and ,oh fuck , thats a pillar and my head is gonna raamm into-, wait no its soft, wait its a hand, a familiar one, shit-

I slowly raised my head to see geto by the vending machine with one can of his favourite drink and the other hand as a barrier to my head and the wall. and yet he doesnt frickin spare me a look, why te hell is his head stooped so low.

Walls are everywhere these days huh?,the audacity to joke around right now without even meeting my eye.

"So youre not even gonna look at me?" I blurt out, unexpectedly helpless in my delivery.

As I see him lift his head up very reluctantly and struggle, i find myself doubting everything gojo previously said, miutes ago.

"Whats up y/n". THE NERVE.

"Didnt take you to be a fuckboi Suguru Senpai, following your best friend's steps is it?"

With a confounded expression I saw him squint his eyes and , well that should be a question then.

"You never called, Geto".

His eyes bulged a bit like he wasnt expecting me to care about the things that we did yesterday. I saw him mumble something under his breath while maintaining the good old strained eyebrows.

"What, you dont care about how i feel now that you slept w me?"

I see his expression waver into immediate shock that desperately needed to set some things straight.

"Y/n..you don't know what you're talking about.. please".

No amount of strained expression from him is helping this mixed signal facade that's happening to me. He takes a deep breathe noticing my baffled expression.

"I do. i do care, more than I've done for anyone else. its just.. by the time you were asleep in my...in my arms, gojo had texted. Soo..it worked. Everything worked out. As intended. Or it didnt, and he came to his senses maybe,finally,else, it doesnt make sense. it makes zero sense. i mean why the fuck would someone not know how to treat you? to treat you shouldnt come as a chore or a result of some challenge, its as natural as breathing air, and idk what was with him all this while, but im sure he realises now, so give him a chance, he'll treat you better I'm sure."

"Is that what you want?"

"What..why..why would it matter, what I think" he visibly gulps, confused.

"It matters to me geto, if you care about me, to know that you like me, I don't know geto you messed with my head, I can't get you out of it...i broke up with gojo."

"What..wait. what?" His face couldn't contain the emotions that rollercoastered through his mind.

"Just say it geto, fucking say it. Do you or do you not like me. Shit, why am I even doing this? " I steer away on my heel as an attempt to hide the tears that are about ruin my mascara, until I feel an immediate grab on my wrist, the same soft hands.

"y/nnn, y/nn....how do i tell you this...you have no idea. not a thing. the way i have craved for you, to be with you, the way i have literally felt my blood boil seeing the way my bestfreind treated you. you have no ideaaa. please dont torment me any more than this, shit im sorry, i know, its not your fault. hell you had no idea how i felt. its just. all you had to do was exist ynnn. the way you aree, the way you smile, hold the hemm of gojos shirt when he failed to pay you the attention you more than deserve, the way you gently hit shoko on her shoulders when you laugh, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the way and fuck the way, the way i saw you yesterday, every inch of you, its etched in my memory, by choice. Fuck, I need some water"

I couldn't contain the happiness that bloomed inside me and I had to do something crazy because he looked just too cute.

" for now i can help you moisten your lips I think", I stand on my toes to reach his open mouth, so confused and wary and place the timid but hungry kiss on it, but within seconds he makes sense of things and grabs me by my waist only to land a kiss that lasted longer than the hourly bell that rang twice or thrice after that.

"Aaargh, this...you're tempting me to do something irredeemable again" he breathes with a glistening red lips messy with the stray tints of my lipstick.

"Let's redeem through it this time then."

The smirk on his lips right then looked more promising than ever.

[quinndominion]

Quinn Rambles (but any advice welcome)

Bonus pic cuz I always feel weird posting just text to tumblr. That's a real sim out there amidst the hood deco. Cookies for anyone who can tell who it is!

Okey-dokey. So, I rambled this ramble a week ago and deleted it, since in the process I came full circle. I still expect to end up here, where I am, but...I'm going to write it out anyway. Again.

What's the hold up? Well, I am still pruning pics for one single scene! (Day at the Lands') There are enough there to be its own full chapter, which i think I may have done on purpose (?) since I clearly went back to it. I mean, I know what I wrote so I'm glad I found the pictures, but they weren't even in the same freakin' folder! (That comes from actively triple booting a few years ago between Win7, Win10, and Linux - they're all pointed at the same game files but the screenshots are saved wherever and I'd forgotten about that at first.) And with a backstory, unlike gameplay, I can't whittle it down to 10-15% of the zillion pics I took and still tell the same story. They're all pretty damn deliberate, with only 1 or 2 alternative perspective shots, so I've only shaved off about 50% and who's going to read all that? Especially sandwiched in with the rest. But then who apart from Peni was going to read it anyway and I don't think she minds the length (?) But I have noticed a few more old friends still around so who knows, who knows.

I still fully intend to post the Starrywood thing as one thing (lol), for myself at least, because it is one day. But I was also going to break it up to be more palatable and manageable to anyone who's not me and maybe pop those sliced up posts on my backup Wordpress or something or maybe even...LJ (yikes!) Not tumblr, that's just too much work. I see they've raised the pic limit and all but tumblr is for montages and minisodes only. However, R.E.S.P.E.C.T. is not as big as all that. Though it is more immediately significant to the story as told thus far and there's the crux of my indecision...

So...there are 3-5 major scenes, depending on whether I tally by length or significance. I expected it to be a three act deal. Like, the first covers three days, the next about three weeks, and the last about three months. Conceptually, I like that. Textually, I like that. But the party scene pictures might give me the same amount of trouble as Day at the Lands'. And I just don't want to subdivide any more than that. It would obviously make things easier, but less...I don't know, I've lost my word, but anyway, just don't wanna do it.

Since it can be it's own thing and it's all written and my personal 'let's see if we can actually still do this' deadline has already come and gone, I've been hemming and hawing about just posting it by itself. A peek into the past rather than a full-on gaze backward. It's a familiar cast, it's fun as hell (I think), and it's long as a thoroughgoing slice of Land life but not plot revealing, so...maybe? It's Day Two in that Act One setup (Day One, basically, is the plot. So, no on that one though it's also ready to go.) But it is the anchor scene and if I throw it out there now what's the point of anyone reading it again, in full, in situ, in context?

(Oh, here's where I should probably say that in reality, two or three readers max, but I still think in terms of ideal reader and ideal presentation. Otherwise what's the point? It's a sim story, yes, and I give myself great latitude with that, but if there's someone out there who actually likes it I want to give them the real story, not a compromise. Also, while I am not my ideal reader, no, I am my primary reader, so I myself actually want the story itself and not an approximation. And then, as a general rule, I like to present a layered story that can be approached and appreciated at whatever level any given reader engages. At the level of having zero background knowledge or interest in following along and still having a laugh if you stumble across it. At the level of catching some or most or all of the little details and callbacks and suspected foreshadowing and feeling fully immersed in this little bit of nonsense that we're all playing with. At the level of actually reading this post and knowing wtf I'm on about, lol.)

If I excerpt it out, I probably would remove most of the fun stuff and just do a tumblr montage and...that is not the task I set for myself. Finish and post a chapter of Something. That is the task.

As I'm going along, however, I keep remembering why I set it aside. I said it didn't matter because there is no such thing as 'here' anymore after such a long absence...but it really does not go here. In the timeline such as it is. So I thought, well, if I (finally) unlock the Contrajocques chapters that's enough context. Will eliminate any need to revisit the Garden Party chapter because it covers the same ground, enough to lay out the parallels to the party scene from Act Two that I mentioned. Along with some other things. And if I pace them out a bit it'd give me enough time to link the pics and post Act One, prune Act Two, and maybe write a damn ending and finish shooting Act Three. (Or maybe not.) (And actually much of the hold up there is that I'm 95-99% sure I did sketch out an ending and I can't find it!)

But then I reread the Contrajocques chapters and the reason they weren't posted is because too much is revealed that the Desiderata minisodes were meant to set up. Most of those are ready to go. In drafts here on tumblr so I thought, eh, go ahead. Buy even more time! But the reason they're not posted is because the whole For Always Roaming detour is actually connected in a weird way. Can be overlooked and sidelined to get on with it, but to do so kind of invalidates that whole side story. What's the incentive to get back to it then and where on earth would I randomly stick it? (Also, there's not a Hart to be found in R.E.S.P.E.C.T. They're not in Widespot yet and, frankly, Val got his own freakin' spinoff show, so as he/we said, it was time to get the hell off the stage. For a bit.) And what's the hold up with all of this...yup, of course, it's the Starrywood saga. That nobody asked for and is tangential to the BaCC at best, but it lays some foundations that will be built on in that still open round of the BaCC and beyond. And it's just too big for me to take on right now. Ugh.

So I keep ending up back where I started. Finish and post the thing you said you were going to post and silently stick it where it really goes when you and the story finally catch up to it. And ignore the fact that some of the callbacks are to things that have not yet been shown.

...I guess.

[jolalibrary]

hii! this might be quite personal and I mean no offense but how do you write so much? do you block time out (and how do you write so well?) I need to know!!!

I’m sorry I’ve sat on this one for a few days anon! my personal life has been a shit-show and I always worry if I respond when im under stress my British-wit/snark comes across as bitchiness 😂 because what I want to say is—

poor mental health + shit sleeping routine + a head full of stories

but that sounds flippant, doesn’t it? even if I mean it in jest. so I sat on it to give you and anyone else that will read this, the below insights into me, jo. a person you may follow, someone you may check in on but don’t follow, or someone who makes you seethe from a corner hahahah.

one. I have always created stories in my head. which sounds cliche, but it’s true. i assume there’s some psychological explanation like avoidance because I don’t have the tools to deal with real life or that I prefer the version of myself in my head than irl. but that’s point one. my head is full of them. and for as long as I can remember, on and off, it’s always been there. I didn’t always write, admittedly, but I thought about them. maybe made my dolls reenact them or created the story on the sims.

two. point one leads nicely into point two, but I find life very overwhelming a lot of the time. I cope, I function, but writing helps me so much. so I tend to do it daily. I physically can feel when I haven’t—like there’s too many voices, too many things bursting around inside of me. it’s how I cope with my mood disorder, and I’m happy to say 8/10 it works. (this is partially why I don’t get fazed by numbers, im going to write regardless if I share it, and if I do share it, there’s zero expectation from me anyone will read it. it’s more a gift from my brain to your day, you know?)

three. because of point two (see a theme here) I struggle to sleep. a good day for me is six hours. a bad day is three. somewhere in the middle I tend to cope and function. sometimes, when life is really fucking hard, I’ll have eight hours and you can tell—because I actually do not write. it usually means I’m burnt out, honestly.

four. more pleasant now, less scene setting than before, but I plan out things. before I share a series I’ll bank a handful of chapters in case my muse fucks off on vacation (the wench) and I’ll always write an ending so I can go about writing out of order (because I do not write anything in order, not a chapter, not a series or a one shot). so mainly, I find a routine that works for me. I cannot force myself to write chronologically, so why bother? you know? circles don’t go in square holes and all of that.

five. I’m rigid with my upload dates. yes, for lovely followers this means waiting, and for me this gives structure — which helps massively with points one to three. but it also buys me time. it gives me the chance to sit in my feelings when I share a chapter, and think logically about what I want the next chapter to feel like. I also like having dates associated to characters in my head, because it gives me some focus of when I should share it.

six. I can write on my phone, at a laptop and in a notebook. the phone one helps massively as I can do so anywhere and any place. this has meant long drives provide oneshots you all love, chapters have been written on planes and things that make you all hate me are written in bed, in the dead of the night, while the rest of the world sleeps. but again, I found a system that works for me. writing at night is my best and most productive time, so I had to adapt to be able to do so effectively without making my husband worry about me.

seven. surround yourself with people who don’t judge you for writing copious amounts. I’ve tried to do the fitting in thing, I’ve tried to dilute myself, and I’ve tried to lessen uploading because of comments “friends” have made or asks I’ve gotten. find people who celebrate you even one on one, because that’s when you’re creativity will really bloom.

eight. I mentioned earlier about process, but I have a process that works for me in terms of plotting. I do a few rounds of different things which I call skeleton, muscle and then skin. but my friend ( @thetriumphantpanda hi babe) loves to create mood boards before she begins. we all have processes and it’s finding one that works for you. my process helps me share all the things I do with you.

nine. I tell the story I want to tell. I pour my heart out onto a screen because I want too. and because im pleasing myself first and foremost, it allows me to feel creative. for the only time in my life, I am in control and I get to put myself first.

ten. I love writing about love. I love grand gestures, and small little moments; I love big speeches, and I also love the head turn and a simple, you’re not too bad you’re not. I love it all. and because of that, I fucking love what I do on here.

so, to answer the question what started all of this off, I write so much because I love what I do, because I can, and because i do it for me first with the secondary hope I make one persons day. that’s it. that’s my baseline, one person outside of me. the rest is just a bonus.

so, find the thing you love to write about, and just write it. take your time. there’s no right or wrong way to do it. write ten words a day or a hundred or a thousand. spend days moving a full stop or a comma or weeks thinking an idea over but not making a single note.

however you choose to do it, make sure you have fun. because otherwise, it’s just a job, and we already have to give to much of our days to that as it is.

[otakween]

Digimon Anode/Cathode Tamer: Veedramon version - Final thoughts

Wow, what a compact little game! I guess that's pretty typical for a handheld, licensed game. This one took me around 15 hours to beat in a single week. Nice. I think gameplay-wise this was actually my favorite so far. I really enjoyed the tactical RPG battle system. It forced me to strategize a bit, so there was juuust enough challenge to make things feel satisfying. Probably doesn't have a lot of replay value, but I'd recommend giving this one a try! (Especially if you're a fan of the original anime because it takes place immediately after it).

Notes:

-I was kind of surprised that most of the bosses in this game were push overs. The guide I was following hyped me up for them and then the majority of them only took me one try. Even the final boss was pretty easy and left me thinking "that's it?"

-Similar to Digimon World 2, this game didn't really motivate me to tame anymore digimon than I needed. The game actually just gives you digimon as you go along and those suited me fine.

-Weirdly this game doesn't really feature digivolution in the traditional sense and, aside from the boss digimon, the partner digis only go up to champion. I kind of appreciated the simplicity of this. I also thought it was clever that the digimon could psuedo-digivolve via the variables. That actually made a lot of sense because digivolutions in the anime are like temporary summons anyway.

-In honor of the V-Tamer 01 manga, I got a Veedramon and named it Zero. He ended up being my strongest partner.

-I still think the story was kinda lackluster. Ryo is just borrowing his digivice and his partner digimon and at the end they're all like "See ya! We're gonna go back to our REAL partners that we like more than you" lol. Also, toxic masculinity Tentomon made me sad:

-Side note: this game's font is terrible. Look at those nearly identical ls and exclamation points!

-Millenniumon low key looks like a Xenomorph in his portrait.

-I'm not going to play Cathode tamer because it's essentially the same game and I've also decided to not do the 4 bonus dungeons. My reasoning is that they don't really seem worth it. It's cool that you can tame the bosses, but one of the hidden dungeons requires you to complete the Digimon Analyzer which I believe requires you to link the games? I guess I could cheat to get to that point, but it still doesn't really seem worth the trouble. If it added to the story maybe, but based on what I've seen on YouTube, it doesn't.

-Loved all of the art so much! Not just in the story bits, but the variables and the digimon sprites were all great. More charming than the PS1 3D versions for sure. The world itself and the battle grounds were a little bland and repetitive, but I liked the designs of the boss dungeons (see the Milleniummon one above). Anything's better than the horrible Digimon World 2 dungeons!

-Just as I expected, I really didn't bother with or need a lot of the extra stuff in this game. A lot of the buildings in town I went into maybe once or twice. I never used Penguinmon trading, Piximon training, Leomon colosseum, or the digimon analyzer. I didn't bother expanding the amount of digimon I could carry via Nanimon because I didn't need anymore digimon. If I had access to this game in the 90s and had my unlimited kid free time, I might explore these features more, but I don't care to do so now. I've got a zillion more Digimon video games to get through!

-I'm trying not to spoil myself for future franchise entries, but it sounds like Ryo will return in other games. I hope he gets justice for his blah storyline then.

[focusandrelaxforme]

Documenting My Subject's Hypno Slavery Journey (Part 12)

Apologies for the long delay between entries. Life has thrown a few curveballs in the last couple of weeks that has significantly impacted both my ability to edit and post these entries as well as my ability to do more than just maintain KittySub's conditioning. Hopefully, things will improve in the coming days/weeks.

For this entry, which was actually written a couple of weeks ago, I asked her to write on the progress she's made since we've started and how she feels on it.

Today, I had her write up what her goals are with the hypnosis/training/conditioning. My current plans are to give her the same directions while she's under and compare them. Depending how that turns out, I may post that/those list(s) next.

Thank you everyone for your patience in the very erratic release of these entries, and for everyone still following us after all this time, know that you inspire to keep going, and that we will keep making these as long as you guys are interested.

--------

Dear diary,

Today Master would like me to write about my progress of becoming his slave. I feel like I have come so far in such a short amount of time. At the same time, time seems to be flying at an unnatural rate. I have been talking to Master for around 22 or so days now.. and it feels like its only been a week. I have grown to trust him so much that I don't even question most of my instructions. I do have some small hiccups when it comes to public humiliation or doing things in front of my husband/baby.. but otherwise I do things now with zero hesitation. I have even managed to workout everyday for Master, besides a free day I was given for a family event. I feel like I go deeper and now without even noticing...and I am able to blank things out more that I didn't used to be able to. I also forget things now.. at least I think I do. Master allows me to play a few times a week while I read my journal entries and every time I read them. It feels like the first time I am reading. Sometimes I will remember bits and pieces, but I don't remember actually writing the journal or doing some of the tasks I have written.. it is such a weird feeling for me. Almost as though I am reading another persons journals. Also, when I write everything that comes out seems so random and I am not allowed to reread while I write, so I just hope I don't repeat myself a lot. every time I read my journals later, they seem so much more put together than I expect. Isn't that strange. I feel happier and healthier each day that I progress further into being Masters slave. Working out is so tough...and some days I really struggle, but after each workout I feel so thankful that Master has pushed me to do them.

He even helped me make a workout calendar to follow for myself and encourages me to eat healthier everyday. I am not perfect at that... but I still feel like I make better choices for most meals then I did before. My anxieties and depression have also improved. I would say most days I am able to enjoy more. I am very happy with my Master and love the journey we are on together. I appreciate everything he has already done for me...and I know we will continue to be great. I even feel like my husband has been happier with me since I have been able to offer myself to him more. He hasn't used me as much as I thought he would, but I think he likes having the option... and it makes me excited to know I am doing it for Master. I even find myself laying in bed at night craving cum in my mouth, even though the taste really isn't great and I still gag a bit. I was finally able to swallow my husband cum completely and not spill a drop a few days ago. I honestly felt so proud. That's a weird thing to be proud about, but i felt so hot knowing that i swallowed every drop of cum that Master wanted me to take. I love knowing that Master has complete control and that I can ask him for help on anything. I am a lucky slave to get to be his...and am happy I get to keep going. I want to be the best slave I can be. i want to impress everyone... including myself. My husband keeps looking over at me currently as I write this journal with my dildo gag in. Drool is pouring out of my mouth at this point and it's making my pussy exceedingly wet around the dildo inside it. Master said I am allowed to fuck my mouth with the dildo after this and cum. I love gagging on cock for my Master and I love being his sucking slave. It is humiliating to know that I am doing all of this when my husband is in the room, but I cant help myself. I cant say no to my Master and that is exactly the way we both like it. Thank you Master

Love,

The cutest sucking slave ever,

Slave KittySub

--------

[shdwtouch]

I will be linking this post in my rules, but since the new dra.gon a.ge game is out and I suspect people will be playing it & roleplaying characters from it... here are some things I'd like to disclose / discuss to prevent any issues for myself or discomfort for others going forward. please bear with me, I was very anxious writing this.

please tag your spoilers & anything relating to gameplay, choices, etc. this isn't just for my benefit but for the benefit of others who may not have the ability to purchase the game or play it frequently enough to avoid spoilers. in general I feel pictures of player characters & NPCs are okay, but use your best judgement regarding context and whether the screenshots include dialogue.

I will not follow dra.gon a.ge roleplay blogs first. I had bad experiences in the darpc and while I will not transpose the blame of my previous experiences on those who choose to write in the fandom currently I do still have a lot of anxiety about engaging with the fandom that I hope others can understand and respect. I make exceptions for folks who I am currently mutuals with and/or have been following on other blogs. I will follow multis with da muses on a case by case basis, mostly defined by what muses are available for interaction. the only reason I can foresee having for not following a blog back, beyond anxiety, is a lack of verses outside of da / if I feel there is no interaction potential. but speaking to anxiety, I reserve the right to block (or softblock, as I will do my best to respect folks rules / preferences in this regard) blogs at any time if I become overwhelmed or feel anxious. please note that this, especially in terms of being involved with the darpc / da fandom, is NOT PERSONAL and if folks have other blogs that aren't strictly related to da I'm happy to follow / interact with those.

in general, I don't care if you have da muses on your multi or a da verse(s) for your character(s). all I care about is having the ability to opt out of engaging with da content should I choose to or feel the need to. in general I have a vast variety of tags blacklisting the game and spoilers, a list I am adding to as I see people post; it would be incredibly amazing if folks could utilize a tag, whether for a verse, a gameplay tag, or a spoilers tag in general so I can blacklist it and avoid seeing da related content on my dash (giving me the option to opt into viewing the posts or not). this is NOT a requirement of following me or being a mutual, its just a nifty thing I would appreciate if folks could try to do for me. again, I'm not going to be angry at folks for talking about the game, posting about it, or roleplaying da stuff. I'm not going to block folks, stop talking to people, or stop interacting with people because they choose to play the game and roleplay in the darpc.

in general, understand that if I am following you and you are posting da content, writing predominantly da muses / verses, etc then I am comfortable with having you on my dash & the amount of content I am seeing related to da, tagged or not. if that changes I will do what I need to preserve my space, but in general I do not appreciate people assuming about my intentions or wellbeing. if you have concerns about me following you / what I am exposing myself to then I encourage you to talk to me about it, but in general know I have my best interests in mind and know what I am doing, making conscious decisions. again, I'm not aiming to control or censor anyone, I'm not expecting anyone to accommodate me, and I take responsibility for what I choose to engage with.

please understand I am doing my best to overcome my anxiety through slow exposure therapy. I am genuinely hopeful that by playing the game and engaging with people whom I feel safe with will help me build confidence and feel safer with da content in general. however, I will say that as of now I have zero interest in returning to the da fandom or involving myself with the darpc. only time will tell if I eventually feel comfortable enough to return, but for now I would appreciate folks patience and respecting me / my decisions through this process.

if you have questions or concerns you are welcome to send me a DM or an ask. I will not be discussing my prior experiences in the darpc, mostly in the mindset of moving on and letting sleeping dog lie. I was young and going through a lot at the time, nor do I deny any potential wrongdoing on my part. but at the end of the day I am taking accountability for my feelings as well as my own role in my experiences, and doing my best to come to terms with them in an effort to return to content I once greatly enjoyed. again, I appreciate folks patience and understanding. again, feel free to reach out to me with questions or concerns.

updated november 12th 2024

[dustvoid]

19.07.24

feeling so low. I don't even know if it has anything to do with being here anymore. I just feel shitty about myself all the time. I hate my appearance and the way I look and I have zero self confidence anymore. I feel as though I'm constantly being judged when in reality I know that no one actually gives a fuck about me, but then I will post on instagram and lose followers and take it personally. I mean it's quite difficult not to take that shit personally, even though I know it means nothing. and sometimes compliments will get thrown around but it doesn't even feel like it means anything majority of the time. "you're so hot, you're so sexy etc" but I'm not sure if I will ever believe it. I think this has led me to a vicious and extremely toxic pattern of always seeking some sort of validation or gratification whether it be sexual or just because I need it to feel something. and I think that's why I have no self respect for myself either. it is shockingly sad. my self worth is measured by so many things, how I look, what I'm doing with my life, what I'm wearing, if I'm dating. I honestly think that my life adds more value if I'm with someone. to some degree I do think that there is nothing wrong with wanting to share your time with someone special, but I know it is not the be all or end all. at this point I just can't be bothered and I think I have fluctuated between a mindset of needing someone or I'll never be happy and just being done with it and living my life.

I feel like I'm broken in some way and I don't know why or how. the last two boys I sort of dated for a few months each time either told me they didn't want anything serious or ended it because they said they weren't interested in anything serious, when what they really meant the whole time was not interested in anything serious with me, because low and behold they are both now in relationships. that fucking hurts. I wish I knew what I was doing wrong. I really hate drawing conclusions from instagram but I can't help but notice there is an alarming amount of guys that I follow that are now in relationships, and I feel like one of those that is just destined to be alone as a result of poor decisions. I have always said I felt like damaged goods and I believe that is how others see me, used and damaged. when the guys you date don't want to date you long term I can't help but look inwards, and I know that's where the work really needs to be done. I'm sick of always just thinking or saying I'm going to change and never changing. I think it is because I expect it to happen overnight. I've always been extremely impatient, and if it can't be done right now I will end up not bothering. but I do want to focus on myself and try to become a better version of myself. I don't want to keep sleeping around with strangers for whatever kind of fucked up validation, and leading people on for the attention and dopamine hit, and talking to boys all the time just because I'm bored and they aren't even interested.

I can say I could just give up social media but I'm not even on it that much anymore. it has become this place that possesses this fear of being ridiculed for posting literally anything, and it is sort of a worldwide experience. I just hate feeling like I'm not growing as a person. it truly depresses me because I don't want to always be the same person that I was 10 years ago. I have so much that I need to work on but I know that it requires time. it's just that I need to do it rather than writing about it or thinking about it or talking about it. so I am going to try. all I can do is try.

-H.

[magicboobiess]

Priorities

Priorities, they differ from person to person. I've learned this over the years, and through navigating many interpersonal relationships. Priorities are much like a to do list, that which requires the most attention is usually performed first (taken care of the most). That which requires the least effort is usually set aside to be completed later (given the least amount of care and attention). Where am I headed with all of this? Well let's just say I usually tend to fall onto the second category. That which requires the least effort so by default I'm usually always given the least amount of care and attention.

Over the years i've noticed that I tend to put others at the top of my priority list. Only to later have other's actions prove to me that I'm at the very bottom of their priority list. Sometimes I feel that I don't even make the cut on some people's lists. This was once again proven to me recently, my birthday just passed and I was involved in a major accident that almost took my life. I've made peace with the fact that people WILL forget my birthday, it's a given. I once had a ex partner forget my birthday (which honestly destroyed me but that's a story for another day). So I've learned to not expect anything from anyone.

However recently I felt as if I had made a breakthrough, as if I was finally starting to be able to connect with others on a deeper level. This year has been hard for me, I don't have much to give at the moment to those I hold near and dear. However I still try my hardest to be there for those I consider dear to me. It's unhealthy to set expectations on others and to expect them to meet those expectations 100%. I don't expect much if anything at all, however it does feel nice to be remembered especially on my birthday. Just recently i've realized that I've been traumatized so many times on my birthday that when the day of my birthday rolls around I just leave and wander off alone to do whatever it is I find amusing that day. With a linger sense of numbness, which follows me all day.

The thing is I myself once again had zero expectations for this birthday of mine. I was fine just having the day roll around and going about as if It was just another day. However, when those you hold near explicitly make it known that they'll do something for you on your birthday and ask for reminders, well it made me excited. It gave me hope that for once I was finally going to be celebrated the way I wanted to be celebrated. Or at least just remembered for once by someone other than my immediate family. However once again I found myself being let down by those I call "friends". How can you give someone such false hope. I'm only human too and it hurts so much that other's just see me as second option. Surprise, surprise but I too have feelings, I too yearn for someone to care for me, hell not even care for me just think about me every now and then. Yet even that much seems like to much to ask for. It seems as if i've never once been anyones priority (go figure).

I can't help but feel something ya know, It's as if I held my hand over a fire and forced myself not to react or wince. Yeah i'll be able to do it but only for a short while until I realize that hey, this is actually painful. I can't keep ignoring the facts that are right in front of me and keep apologizing for everyone's behaviour. If a spade is a spade no matter how much I may love it, it's a spade. If a friend is a bad friend then that's just simply what they are, a bad friend. I just dislike that these occurrences make me want to treat interpersonal relationships, less as a relationship and more as a transactional interaction. I do this for you and in turn you share time with me. Ultimately however that's how my world view is starting to shape out to be.

The thing is, if you can't make good on your promises or on your word then please just don't say anything. Simply don't. It's not fair to me, it makes me think that you actually care when really it's a way of making yourself feel better. I know no one cares about me, you don't have to slap me in the face and remind me of that, I can very much do that on my own thank you very much. This is why I prefer having acquaintances over "friends". It's easier for a friend to disappoint me than it is for a stranger to disappoint me. I just get so delusional in regards to how much I think someone cares about me. I think it's time I threw away these rose colored glasses and finally started seeing the world and those around me for what they really are.

Priorities, I rank dead last probably not even on the list, but hey that just means I can now reevaluate and focus on loving myself instead. Remember you don't care about me, you just say that to make yourself feel better. Guess what though, I won't break that illusion for you and i'll let you keep gratifying yourself through me. But just know, I see right through you and eventually everyone else will too.

This turned into kind of a sad rambling, so let me just say there's no animosity towards anyone when I write this. I'm just sad at the reality of my interpersonal relationships. In the same way that those don't care enough to remember about me I honestly don't care enough to waste time on holding a grudge or disdain for the way I keep being treated. At the end of the day we all just have different priorities and i've come to terms that really I'm not on anyone's list.

As I write this I'm giving my cat head scratches, at least that's one friend I can always count on. Much love MagicB00biess xoxo

P.S Don't become Jaded due to life experiences, we're all just on this earth to live and learn. The faster you can forgive those that wrong you the sooner you can start becoming the best version of yourself you can possibly be. I definitely will cry about it however.

[kalikai]

My first flute was almost a success.

Like, it was a success. I spent time and energy and concentration and now I have an out of tune PVC whistle that I can get a couple of different tones from.

But I'm going to start over and change a bunch of things. Not going to bother to finishing this first one by tuning it properly because I'm not happy with it; it's just misaligned with my expectations.

But it was useful because now that I know its first-hand performance attributes, I can connect the felt-sense to the numbers, and so now I can knowingly choose the numbers to pull felt-sense things in the desired direction.

Figuring out how to make this thing was frustrating.

There's like, this one random French guy on YouTube who gives a tutorial. Super clear trilingual directions, very simple tutorial, zero amounts of bullshit (beyond the obligatory preamble of "hey check out this cool weird instrument! Listen to me play some neat little tunes on it to prove it's a musical instrument!"), and his measurements are all in millimetres. Lovely. Wonderful. Literally the single best outcome you could possibly hope for from a video tutorial.

But he doesn't talk about the accoustic physics, or about how it feels to play.

Just "use these material and cut to this length, and then make these other cuts."

And also did not explain how to measure the other cuts (which fortunately doesn't seem to actually matter, because any high-precision acquired from fine measurement would be obliterated entirely by my extremely low precision implementation method: random rusty woodworking tools I found in the garage.)

So, okay, fair enough one guy isn't the repository of all human knowledge. I'll just look up "DIY PVC overtone flutes" elsewhere.

Here were my options:

👨🏻‍🏫 couple of other random YouTube guys, being all "wow, that French guy made a cool thing! What a fun little project that will be for me to try. Here's my own little video about how I followed his tutorial and made my own copy. That was pretty fun, but it was annoying when he used millimetres because I'm American." And then they digress into talking about how they adopted the first guy's project specs into their native gobbledygook measurements.

👨🏻‍🏫 one or two blog posts that were the same thing, basically

👨🏻‍🏫 couple of amateur websites about Native American Flutes (and COMPREHENSIVELY so). Awesome!

But:

- while NAFs *function as* overtone flutes, they have some added design elements to add functionality and improve their performance as musical instruments

- all their measurements in fractional inches

So for me to parse guidance from those resources I have to figure out how to unpack their formulas to get at exclusively what's relevant to my simplified design, convert their fractional measurements into decimal measurements, and then convert from imperial measurements into metric measurements.

Goddamn pain in the ass when I'm trying to work on a project in the evening and I'm crashing off all my meds and all this bloody runaround isn't impossible merely very difficult and very very very frustrating.

👨🏻‍🏫 a random post on a forum for people who make flutes and et cetera.

- guy being like, "hey I'm trying to make an overtone flute, and I'm using pvc pipe to simplify things for myself, and I started my numbers off using this science paper about didgeridoos (because the physics is the same; vibrating columns of air with one end closed) but something's awry with it can you give me some pointers please?"

- other guys being like "yeah man, of course. Okay, see, to get nice overtones whatcha want is for the dimensions of your column of air to have super high diameter-to-length ratios. Like, 1:35 is bare minimum, 1:40 is better, 1:50 would be amazing."

Immediate problems:

❌ That French guy who made the really awesome YouTube tutorial, his ratio in that tutorial is more like 1:20, lol

So while his flute does function and is super simple to create, it's janky as fuck.

❌ And because he doesn't explain ANY of the relationships between his measurements, the accoustic properties of his flute, how it feels to play, and how that relates to the range of tones it can play; it's impossible to know which measurements you should tinker with to redistribute the project's jankiness in order to emphasise a different prioritisation in the pursuit of high ratios.

❌ As an additional fun layer of obfuscation, the numbers used in the French guy's tutorial are the length and width of the plastic pipe, and not the length and width of the vibrating air column held within it (which is what the ratio is about), so that makes it even harder to connect the dots there.

The lengths being different is easier to catch, since those are measurements you've made yourself and there's a clear and separate starting point for each of the two measurements.

and then it's also a difference that doesn't even matter in the end anyway, because you end up adjusting the length of the pipe by shaving tiny increments of the end to get your flute into tune.

So you can't target a fixed ratio by measuring to an arbitrary length, because the lengths aren't arbitrary. Best you can do is have a desired target range of ratios, to hit a ballpark length for your desired tone.

But the widths being different is harder to catch. Because "20mm" is a designation of a type of pipe, and not necessarily a measurement of the air column that we imagine inside of the tube when doing calculations about it. 🙃

Good luck even noticing that without a set of callipers! And have fun getting your calculations all sorted out when you're trying to work out the ballpark lengths of pipe required to get your flute in tune!

(Because starting with a wrong width measurement leads to everything that follows being "imprecisely correct" at best)

Hmm, okay. 🤔

What does the comprehensive NAF website have to say about it?

They have a simplified version, which, in its examples, uses fractional inches as assumed input figures, and then simplifies the equations with those figures in them,

so when I want to plug in my own numbers into the formula they provided, I can't do that, because I don't know which numbers are part of their assumed inputs and which numbers are part of the function which relates input to output. Grr.

And then they also have an extremely in-depth version, where they treat it like a physics homework problem and get deep into the nitty gritty of accoustic physics,

which is equally as useless, because that gives an unachievable precision of measurement, which simply can't be implemented with the tools, skills, and materials at hand. Best you can do is that french guy's way, of getting it close enough to where you want and then gradually shaving the length down to get it into tune.)

High ratios = overtone flute.

Low ratios but it doesn't sound horrible and it isn't horrible to play = different kind of flute.

Different kind of flute that doesn't sound far worse than an equivalent overtone flute of similar materials and construction methods = far beyond the scope of this project

High ratios = jankiness

Therefore overtone flute is inherently janky, jankiness which can not be removed, only reallocated.

The kind of flute I could make the best using what I have at hand is an overtone flute, so I'm going to embrace the jankiness as a design feature and work on building the best overtone flute I can, even though an overtone flute isn't the best kind of flute that I could try to make (flutes without jank is a solved problem; the technology of overtone flutes was superceded in the stone age)

So, problems:

- to make nice music with overtone flutes, you need to be able to close off the open end of the flute with your hand while playing, which gives you more tones to be able to use.

- therefore the length of your air-column is restricted by the physical length of your arms

(Because one end of the tube goes to your mouth, where you blow in air to get the tone, and the other end of the tube has to go somewhere within reach of your hands)

- and so if you want to pursue a high ratio, you have to make your flute higher and higher pitched by shrinking the diameter of your air column instead of its length

(- also, thinner pipes can be longer than wider ones, because you only need a finger to close the far end and not the palm of your hand, which improves their ratio even more.)

To get higher overtones you have to blow harder which makes them louder.

The limits of my lung capacity and of my eardrums are thankfully closely paired, which is a limitation on the number of overtones you can have for a given pipe.

More overtones by way of high ratio, by way of shrinking the air column's diameter makes the flute's tones more and more high-pitched. This steadily increases the whistle's irritation factor but eventually becomes inaudible.

Same at the low end; once you get long enough the fundamental frequency requires you to blow air so slowly that the tone is inaudible. Any tones you can hear, then, are some higher overtone or another, and so you lose the bottom part of your theoretical maximum range too.

A nominally 15mm pipe needs 525mm of length for a 1:35 ratio, 600mm for 1:40, and 750mm for 1:50.

Which note the fundamental frequencies are for those lengths idk.

The didgeridoo paper that the guy mentioned in his post on the flute-making forum, that was supposed to have a table of lengths to frequencies, wasn't it? Let's go have a look!

1. Dead link, but oh well never mind that,

2. Found the paper, and it's an undergraduate homework project rather than a publication from professional academia, and not that that matters, but oh well never mind that

3. All their measurements are in fractional inches because of course they fucking are (🤮), but oh well never mind that,

4. Didgeridoos aren't flutes, so they're occupying a very different zone of the frequency scale, so this paper's table of lengths to frequencies stops before it gets up to the numbers I need. Drat.

So! Where I'm at is that I have a long whistle I'm not super happy with, which is good because now I've got a spare metre or so of 20mm PVC which I can entirely sacrifice to practicing and refining my PVC-cutting skills, and testing which of my cutting tools are best suited to the job.

And then there are two possible directions to go in for the next attempts:

- loooong whistle with a wider bore, with a deep voice like a fujara

- looong whistle with a narrower bore, with a high piping voice like a penny whistle, to try to push that width:length ratio as high as I can get it just to see what that's like

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[stardestroyer81]

Hi everyone! As most of my followers know (Especially if the post I made on my birthday is any indication), I'm an enormous nerd on all things arcade games. I grew up playing them by way of official compilations or plug-and-plays, but it's very rare I get to see any of my arcade favorites in person, as arcades are quite sparse in my town.

However, last night I found out about an arcade relatively close to where I live, and while I went into it with mild expectations, let me just say that the amount of fun I had and the discoveries I made were unlike anything I could have ever expected! Below, you'll find a deep dive of my experience there, what games I found, and a superstar display of arcade mastery! Let's insert a coin and jump right in!

Once I arrived, the very first arcade cabinet that caught my interest (And, by extension, saw) was the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles beat-em-up by Konami! Cartoony beat-em-ups such as this one and The Simpsons (Which they also had!) are something I've always had a fascination for, and while it was very tempting to start a game, I decided to hold off on it for the time being so that I could check out what else the arcade had in store— plus, games like this are always more fun with friends!

Just around the corner, I found a genuine Mario Bros. cabinet! This one was the first one that really surprised me, as I'd never seen one physically. I'd played a great deal of Mario Bros. ports in my time, but never the real deal, so it was really cool to finally give it a go...

... before realizing how clumsy I am at it. I'm telling you, the traction on each stage feels like Mario's going ice skating with skates he buttered beforehand— the sliding is real. While I did get pretty close in beating the high-score here, it for some reason decided not to save, but that was no big deal to me. At some point I'd love to practice and see if I can really master the art of Mario Bros.

And because this is probably the only instance I'll ever get to mention this, if you haven't seen the commercial for Mario Bros. Atari port, I'd suggest you do so, because it is nothing short of hilarious. MAAAAAA-RI-O, WHERE ARE YOU?!

I remember getting particularly hyped when I caught sight of the 'Galaxian' marquee shown here, as I'd not once ever seen a Galaxian cab, though upon closer inspection, the machine is actually an iCade 60-in-1 compilation, one I actually grew up playing at a laser tag place and have a fondness for (The menu music gives me SUCH a great deal of nostalgia)!

One such title in this compilation that I consider myself a pro player at is Super Pac-Man, and that ended up being the first game that I got REALLY into playing. I noticed upon starting the game that the high score was around forty thousand or so, but by the time I wrapped up...

I showed "YOU" who's boss (Weird, now that I look at it, that the 41,470 looks to be a default score as the stage they made it to was... well, zero)! This ended up being my all-time personal best Super Pac-Man score by just four hundred points or so, and was DEFINITELY the most exciting one yet!

When I finished with that game, I noticed that just down the hall, there were even more games, which interested me fairly quickly. I made my way down the hall and turned to the right, and sure enough, there were a whole lot more games!

And then... I saw it.

A genuine Dig Dug cabinet.

It took every last square inch of my entire being to not just start fanboying right then and there. I'd been waiting for as long as I can remember to see a Dig Dug cabinet in person, and it was SO EXCITING finally being able to play one! You'll notice in the image above that the high score was in the thirty thousand range, which I found was EASILY beatable given my expertise...

Turns out, all that practice playing Dig Dug on Jakks Pacific's plug-and-play and in Namco Museum Vol. 3 payed off! Once I began Round One, I noticed one tiny detriment to the cabinet, however- it took some major effort to even go up, which is pretty much a requirement if you even want to beat the first stage.

As I played, though (Let me tell you, this was one of my more intense Dig Dug sessions, I was making some serious plays that hinged on exact timing and choosing which enemies to pump first), the joystick seemed to loosen up, and I found it much easier to move upward as the rounds went on.

This might just be my favorite picture I took last night, too. I've always wanted my initials to be in the top spot of any genuine arcade cabinet, and for it to be Dig Dug no less was just so satisfying! Now, we wait until I scout out a Bosconian cabinet...

They also had a Ms. Pac-Man cabinet in the same row that Dig Dug was in! The version they used was particular fun, too, as it was actually Turbo Ms. Pac-Man, which is exactly what it sounds like. Weirdly, this cabinet's top score was relatively low (Around twenty-thousand, I think?) and I even remember hearing somebody my age remarking how difficult it is.

I don't know if it's just because of how well-versed I am at Ms. Pac-Man but— again— I set the high score for this, too, clocking in at 54,410! I'd played another Turbo Ms. Pac-Man a while back and remember my score being much higher, but the score I had set just proved I was on a roll!

Lastly, another cabinet I was surprised to find was Space Invaders! I recall having seen a Space Invaders cabinet many years ago at a Chuck E. Cheese north of my town, though I don't remember it having a space backdrop like this one has, which blends in with the actual game really well.

I'd only ever played Space Invaders a handful of times, though to nobody's surprise (But perhaps to everyone's amazement) I set the high score HERE, too! In the image above, the score is 910, though by the time I finished, I had upped it to 1140. Games like this and Ms. Pac-Man don't save initials for high scores, but I at least have proof on the matter that this is indeed my score!

I guess I'm a lot better at the classics that I was led to believe! The whole experience was just a blast, and I REALLY wanted to share it with you all! I definitely want to make posts like this for other arcades I visit, and you can bet that if I come across a Bosconian cabinet... THAT'S going to be one lengthy post!

[saltpepperbeard]

Ravenous ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Well hello hello again lol! A bit weird, huh? I don’t know why exactly I had a sudden surge of motivation, but quite honestly, I’m not mad at it. While the shot I wrote a few days back was a more original idea of sorts, this one was an “anonymous” suggestion. A rather EYEBROW RAISING SUGGESTION™ if you know what I’m saying ha! But for whatever reason, dialogue and ideas started flowing, and here we are! Just couldn’t help but explore Katniss desiring to Spice Things Up a bit. With that being said shjdkhskdls-

Disclaimer: This fic contains NC-17 related material, but y’all been knew. Y’ALL KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GETTING INTO LMAO.

And without further adoooooo...

Ravenous

It’s happening again. Our bedroom seems to rival that of the setting sun, the two dancing and paralleling. Just as the clouds and sky melt into orange, I too, find myself at its mercy. Just as the sun plunges beneath the horizon, so too, do our pelvises atop each other’s. Just as it sets fire to the grasses and trees as it plummets from sight, so too, do our roaming mouths and hands against each other’s bodies.

And just as the sunset is habitual, expected, so is the explosion within. It’s like clockwork. It’s like the mighty star’s journey across the sky. A soft, inviting, and consistent brightness is maintained throughout the day, before utterly exploding into color and passion as ebony surges forth.

The newness and its subsequent excitement must be why it’s so incredibly enticing, so normal in our schedule. To think, I used to be one with the dawn. The coldness, the solitude, and the call for survival...all were my essence. Now though, do I dance and take pleasure in the dusk, flooding with fiery color before all runs dark.

Not that I’m complaining in the slightest. No, I’m a medley of breathy giggles, mewled moans, and messy kisses. The usual, the expected, and the blissful.

So a subsequent shift in the cycle, in the ecstatic repetition, does indeed throw me when it presents.

Losing myself in Peeta each and every night allows my hunger to break free, spilling forth after being locked up for so long. It gnaws, it feasts, and it satisfies, before settling back to a hush, properly quenched. His initial touches, caresses, and kisses do marvels at igniting the starting flames. His following motions and salacious actions work wonders at surging the fire to a roar. And then his sweetness dampens the blaze into finality, into exhausted ashes.

But tonight...Tonight, it’s different. It feels...wrongfully intense.

I am not hungry- I am ravenous. It roars within me as if it’s never been satiated at all. It howls, screams, gnashing for a deeper satisfaction. The area between my legs aches almost painfully so, and the heat surging through my core snarls that it won’t be bested so easily.

Such a sensation almost feels instinctual, animalistic even. And with that notion crossing my mind, an odd picture presents itself within my subconscious. A symbolic representation? Or is it a solution, a suggestion that the deeper confines of my hankering body has pulled up? Either way, it’s bizarre, and subsequently earns a deep blush to my cheeks.

The image of a stag mounting a doe.

It’s something I’ve seen on rare occasion while hunting, a deeply intimate and almost sacred moment birthed from nature’s way. But translating such an intrusive image into our bedroom, into the current situation, and connecting the dots between the symbolism and the craving...

...Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flush impossibly more so.

What an oddity. Peeta more than satisfies me. He gives me something no one else could possibly come close to offering. He takes me to realms unthinkable, and charts depths once-unexplored. And yet, does my body yearn.

What a foreign desire. I never could have pictured myself in such a position- or...intensely aching for one, rather. With carnal intimacy being so new to me, to the both of us, I never expected my body to erect anything of the sort. But I suppose, the deeper and deeper we traverse in one another, the more and more we’ll unlock. I guess there are still things to be discovered about each other, and complex layers of intimacy waiting to be unlocked...

“...Katniss?”

As if my cheeks couldn’t grow any more fiery.

I must have been quite disconnected, lost in thought and libidinous imagination. My grey eyes rapidly blink to break from the haze, but the desire still careens within. Venturing out from the fog reveals Peeta once more though, his beautiful, bare, handsome form hovering atop me. He too, is flushed, small beads of sweat glistening atop his scarred skin to compliment the fiery sheen within his darkened eyes.

But where there would be normally be a crooked smile, or an agape expression of pleasure, there instead exists confusion, concern.

When our eyes finally meet with clarity, he reaches to softly cup my cheek.

“Hey...” he murmurs, his voice still husky, breathy, “You alright?”

I cannot help but swallow hard. How the hell am I supposed to vocalize such a thing? Is it too taboo to ask for? The idea of...Peeta...taking me from behind?

I’m a mess, shutting my eyes and turning my face into his hand, as if to hide myself away.

“Hey...” His voice sounds more concerned, and a bit warmer. Some of the huskiness has disappeared too. And subsequently, a spark of desperation alights within me; perhaps because the hunger screeches at me to maintain heat.

“Sweetheart-”

Softening sentiments are cut off by a carnal kiss, my body piloting me to fight the dip. I lace my hands around the back of his head and pull his stunned form closer, breathily moaning through the connection. When I feel his lips begin to part though, when I practically taste the confused question forming on his tongue...

I know I have no choice. I know it’s now or never. And if I could stare the hunger dead on, if I could address its call and dive into vulnerabilities with Peeta before...

Surely I can do this too. Hopefully.

“Peeta?” I quickly interject.

I expect him to remain close, but just as ferocious desire pilots me, so too does compassionate concern steer him. He leans as far back as he can with my hands laced through his hair, staring with those inquisitive, stunning blues.

“...Katniss?”

“I...I...”

Just as the first time we delighted in one another, my throat threatens to lock up from anxiety, from fear of the unknown. Just as before, I find it horribly difficult to vocalize my wants. But in knowing that soft and concerned stare, in understanding the eyes that expectantly wait, and in feeling far fierier than previous times, I find the strength I need to produce a voice.

“...Can we...try something different?”

Nerves drive me to bite my swollen lip, as if Peeta’s going to react poorly or something equivalent. But as truly expected, he blinks the concern away before the tension visibly melts above me.

“Oh! Yeah, uh...sure,” he murmurs, beginning to smile despite lingering bits of confusion still present in his brows, “Is that why you...?”

“Yes...”

“Oh,” he breathes, chuckling softly before leaning back in for another kiss. He nestles close once more, our bare forms pressing and creating small hints of tantalizing friction. Be it the throbbing within, or the very present feeling of his erection between us, I break the kiss with quickened pants.

Unbothered now, and in a better understanding towards my desperation, he moves to kiss and bite at my neck. My hips and eyes both roll, the intense lust leaving me less bothered by the various noises sounding from my throat.

Peeta too, must be quickly getting tugged back; I feel him twitch before he softly grunts into the tender skin of my collar.

“What would you like?” he huskily whispers, topping off the question by tracing my bone with his tongue.

Between nerves and the sensations he’s dizzying me with, I briskly shake my head.

“Don’t make me say it...” I wheeze.

I feel his mouth turn upwards against my skin, and he chuckles before drawing forth artistry, painting his way up my neck and cheeks with brushing lips.

“Alright...” he says thickly, and I think I can feel him quivering slightly, “Show me then?”

I tense, but catching his stare grounds me. Beyond the drippings of ebony lust and fiery coals, I can see that beautiful understanding, that adoration with zero judgement. It’s what drove me to explore initially, and thus, does it fuel me once more.

My hands come to rest upon his muscular chest, quivering ever so slightly as I give a gesturing push. He follows my direction without hesitation, moving until we’re both sitting up on the bed. Another bout of hesitance grips me, but upon seeing the sight of him, heavily engorged and nearly flush against his stomach, I break through once again.

My stare manages to break to a necessity then, gazing upon his amputated leg with another bite of my lip.

“Your prosthetic...”

I can see his breath catch, watching his chest heave as I momentarily avoid his stare.

“...I need it?” he whispers.

I can only nod, and he thankfully doesn’t press, scurrying off to retrieve and reattach it. I’m piloted once more; my body seizes the opportunity to get into position while he’s not looking. Though my heart pounds something terrible, though trembles alight in my limbs, I roll onto my hands and knees, poised and ready for what I crave.

Peeta’s to my backside now, so I cannot see his reaction to what I’m offering. I can certainly hear it though, as well as almost feel it, the room seemingly spiking in temperature the moment he notices.

“O-oh...”

I tremble in both deep anticipation and tension, still unable to look at him. There’s a bit of pause though, and right when I think I’ve made a mistake, I feel the bed shift with the re-introduction of his weight. My thighs clench something terrible at his presence behind me, and I feel my entire lower half quivering.

Made even worse when Peeta groans my name.

“Katniss...”

The amount of lust is incredible. I could almost rocket myself backwards upon him. It’s wild, and hard to imagine how I wound up in such a position. But through the salaciousness, through the smoke clouding my brain, nerves still manage to peek.

“Is...this okay?” I shakily whisper.

“Yeah...” he breathes, and I nearly run woozy at the sensation of his hands ghosting my curves, “Is this...?”

I almost move beyond my own control, thrusting my hips backward and placing myself into his grasp. It’s his turn to tremble, and he groans yet again.

“God...Katniss...”

I’m his craft once more. His hands grasp me, knead me, squeezing my voluptuous backside as he would when he prepares dough. And just as the touch readies dough for heat, it too, sets me utterly ablaze.

Unbridled moans and mewls sound from my throat at his massage, my legs spreading wider and my back arching further. There’s barely a connection between anxiety and my ravenous core anymore, hunger almost entirely at the helm.

“God...” Peeta moans again, and such a noise pushes me into raw desperation.

“Peeta...” I whimper in a tone so unlike my own, “Peeta...”

We’re on the same plane. He understands immediately. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just as hungry as I am, made raw by the sight before him.

So he quickly rectifies the situation. I feel the bed shift, before he brings a shaky hand to grasp one of my hips. I’m barely breathing, barely able to process with such deep anticipation. His following words almost don’t reach me, what with the beautifully torturous feeling of his head just barely brushing betwixt my folds.

“Okay...I love you, Katniss...”

I somehow wheeze, somehow manage, those words landing when nothing else can.

“I love you too- AH!”

I’m no stranger to the feeling of Peeta sheathing himself deep within me, to holding him snuggly and tightly in a space reserved just for him. We’ve danced in it and dazzled in each other so much lately that it’s, in fact, almost become something of a second nature.

So it’s definitely strange that just a mere change can have electrifying, incredible effects.

The cry from his entrance was utterly unavoidable; he feels deeper and heavier than ever before. I’m stunned at how different it feels, at the intensity behind it. He’s within familiar grounds, and yet it feels entirely new.

I’m dazed, but my hunger is utterly elated. It sings at the feeling, rejoices, driving me to slide myself backwards against him, swallowing him impossibly deeper.

His groan intersects beautifully with mine, the both of us likely relishing in the sensations. When I dare to ease my hips forward again, I feel Peeta’s other hand reach to grasp. With his hold complete, he pulls me back as he thrusts deeply.

And I already find that I’m quickly losing control, everything working to utterly unravel me.

The strokes, so deep and reaching, quickly earn a stream of incoherence from my hanging mouth. I moan and whimper and grunt a plenty, weaving a tapestry of pleasured nothings.

“Mmm...Oh, God...Peeta...”

There’s also something about this that strangely seems to amplify, something that makes it the most different from our previous sessions: I cannot see him. I cannot see the beautiful, wrenched effort on his visage, nor can I steal the moans from his lips. I cannot latch myself to his tender neck, nor can I run my fingers through his ashy locks.

It’s just the sensation of him within me. Nothing more but his powerful drives and our precious connection.

No wonder it’s so raw, so animalistic indeed.

But perhaps, not mutual.

Where I would expect Peeta to take off, to drive with reckless abandon, he instead remains...oddly consistent with his glides. They’re heavenly, and reaching, but unamplified. In fact, instead of speeding up as expected, he seemingly slows within me.

Such a turn, a difference in the usual chain of events, is enough to whip my head around. It’s my turn to furrow with confusion and concern, squinting through the intense mindfog to finally lay eyes upon him.

Which ends up being a blessing and a curse; the sight of him in such a position is almost enough to send me reeling further. Seeing him kneeling, grasping my hips, panting with reddened cheeks, and disappearing deep within...

A shiver runs up the length of my spine, exiting through my mouth as my voice just barely manages to quiver his name.

“...P-Peeta?”

“I...Um...”

It’s like we’ve switched places, what with him being apprehensive and me existing in a realm of thirst and confusion. Just as before, a cock of the brow and a building question is what spurs the opposite party into explanation.

“I’m...It’s going to sound...cheesy, okay? But I uh...It’s...Different I guess, not being able to...look at your face. Or kiss you. Or...”

He shifts himself a bit as he reaches for my face with a hand, effectively sending himself inward at a deep, torturous angle. It drives me strangely mad, my eyes rolling and my throat resonating with a squeak. It feels so foreign, to be reduced to this. And in my state, in my heightened desperation, I find myself blurting without much control.

“-Keep going.”

He freezes then, inside and out, looking upon me with widened blues. Such an expression mildly grounds me, offering a pang of guilt and a subsequent apology to follow.

“Sorry...” I wheeze, “I...I didn’t mean...If...you’re not...”

I’m a mess with my attempts to breathily stammer. But just as further guilt begins to bud, just as I fear I’ve forced him into an uncomfortable place, he gives such an unexpected and strong jerk of his hips that I yelp into the tense space.

When the shock leaves my system, when the static clears my brain, I’m able to see him beginning to smile once more, a bit more lecherous than before.

“Hmm...You know, different...might not be so bad then...”

“But-”

Again, he tortuously cuts me off, giving another strong jerk and sending me careening.

“Peeta!” I exclaim, looking at him with widened eyes, trembling legs, and a stunned soul.

“Because...” he grunts, softly squeezing and kneading my hips, “You like this, don’t you?”

He shifts then, focusing on slowly feeding himself into my depths, effectively earning a low grunt from his throat. A noise that’s quickly overpowered by my own, an open-mouthed moan as I squirm against the mattress, against his lovely torment.

“Peeta...”

“Yeah? You like it? Hmm, love?” 

My eyes flash at his darkened vocals, followed by a bite of my lip to hush the rolling whimper. Something is most definitely in the air tonight. The sun surely exploded in its descent. We’ve never really been so...raw with each other, so driven and demanding.

But it seems neither of us have any qualms. Even my worry towards pressuring Peeta into an unfavorable session seems to back away, what with his ebony murmurs and expressions so evident. We seem to be re-aligning, re-joining each other on the same plane of passion.

Thus, do I desperately nod, at his complete disposal. I slide myself backwards then, easing until I’m practically touching his pelvis, panting and gritting at the extent of penetration.

“I’ve forever to kiss you..." he whispers.

Please...Please please.

I’m hardly with it enough to question the strangeness behind the newfound begging, simply squirming and existing entirely within the desperate space.

“...But not long enough to pleasure you so...”

Thus, miraculously, do any last bits of wall come tumbling down.

And I’m no longer in our bedroom. I’m within droves of ardent fire. I’m traversing the very surface of our sun. I’m in a place so foreign, a state so delightfully insane, where none have ever brought me before.

All from the sudden, strong, and intense reaches of him deep within.

Oh, how I fall apart. How I deliciously unravel. Being so pent up, so oddly starving, the hunger gorges and instantly sets me alight. Just as it screamed before, I too, find myself vocalizing with such strength.

It’s a medley, an absolutely chaotic medley of passion. Beyond my cries and his grunts, I can hear his pelvis slapping against my back side again and again. Beyond the flashes and shivers in my vision, I can see our bed hammering from the force he’s inflicting. Beyond the heat and pounding stream of blood, I can feel him hitting places so new and intense.

And it’s everything. I love him. I adore him. And I cherish the connection we have, the way we can send each other directly into the heavens. I never could have imagined. Even mere months ago, I never could have imagined.

“Gggh...Katniss!”

His deep grunt coupled with the groan of my name is enough to break me from my overwhelmed thoughts; the dig of his fingers into my hips is enough to ground me completely. I cannot escape the ungodly pleasure now. I am present, and at its full mercy.

And when a thrust hits just so, when a piece of my glass cracks and threatens to shatter, it’s no wonder that my arms fall instantly gelatinous. I cry and toss my head back, sending a rolling ebony wave before my front half descends. I desperately grip the blankets, knotting the fabric with begging grunts and whines.

But it only continues to build, and build, and build, impossibly faster and impossibly deeper. Our souls are tangled, so very tangled, dancing and intertwining and refusing to let go. Naturally, I start to ascend, faster than I ever have before. The fire licks its way up my belly, caressing my jiggling breasts and-

...No, that’s his hand, reaching beneath to knead and massage, emboldened and salacious. My eyes roll something terrible, my hips even more so, more and more of the glass chipping away. He’s snarling, almost yelling; I know he’s so close too. But somehow, just as he always has, Peeta dashes through the chaos and holds me above all.

His wandering hand suddenly juts backwards, racing down my body before fingers find their prized destination. There’s a subsequent bolt of electricity at my core, followed by a heave of tension as cracks spiderweb throughout. I’m on the cliff, on the edge, writhing and seeing it shatter before me...

“Peet-”

The final note of his name shifts into that of a divine keen, elongated and reaching as my wings outstretch. I feel like I’ve never flown so high before. It feels as if though I breach the very reaches of our atmosphere, everything whited out and flashing with a dazzling array of color.

Surely I’m screaming. Surely I’m crying out with such forceful contractions wracking my system. But I can barely breathe, barely process. There’s nothing but this. Nothing but him.

Him- somewhere below, I can hear his desperate groans. He too, yelps like he’s attempting to hold on to the Earth, to stop such a rapid ascent into space. But with a distant, cracking yell, and with another push that drives me even higher, I welcome him into my flying embrace.

I hold onto him so tightly. I fly and dance and marvel in the closeness, in the connection we share. I soar hand in hand, his softness rivaling that of the cloud we pass. Before eventually, inevitability, we must return to a realm more frequented.

I land hard. My form essentially evaporates upon impact. The moment Peeta breaks our connection, the moment he releases my hips, I fall into a heap atop the blankets. It’s no surprise that I’m shivering, nor that I’m weeping, overwhelmed to the warmest, highest degree. I remain on my stomach, limbs sprawled every which way, continuing to pant and ride through the occasional aftershocks.

When the sound of my pounding heart departs from my ears, when I become more aware of my surroundings, I can hear Peeta on the bed behind me, heavily panting all the while. Surely he’s sitting back, likely riding the same lingering effects as I. 

But I need him. After almost selfishly delighting in such pleasures, I miss him. So I turn my head against the blankets, attempting to look in his direction as I reach with a hand.

“P-Peeta?”

Unsurprisingly, he understands. In mere seconds, he heaves himself beside me, flopping down atop the mattress. Though I’m utterly exhausted, and akin to jelly, I hoist myself onto my side and into his arms, our bodies as close as possible without the added element of fire.

And there, I snuggle, I caress, I kiss. I make up for the missed touches. He of course, reciprocates, the both of us tiredly offering all the affection we can muster between our shaking breaths. Soon enough, falling back into our usual patterns, we begin to smile. Then breathlessly giggle. Then speak and whisper sweet nothings through our exhausted exchanges.

“Oh...my God...Oh God...” I wheeze into one of our many kisses.

Peeta snickers a bit then, his hands beginning to softly rub circles against my bare back.

“I don’t...I don’t know what happened...what came over me...” I whisper, shying away to nestle my cheek against his.

He laughs more then, somehow managing to tug me even closer.

“Hooo, well...Whatever it was...I’m glad...I’m glad it did...”

I feel myself blushing, somewhat...shocked by the intensity of my actions. And in considering my behavior, in considering how ferocious the hunger was, it unsurprisingly reminds me of the likely sacrifice Peeta had to make in order to appease. I flush even harder, moving to hide my face against his perspiring shoulder.

“I’m sorry...” I murmur against his sweet skin.

“Hun?”

“I didn’t mean to- I mean, I didn’t...”

I of course, struggle through my words, through my explanation. I’ve never been good at saying something. But my love patiently waits, expectantly waits, continuing to softly rub me through the silence. As usual, his understanding anchors me, and I whimper the truth rather sheepishly.

“It just felt so good, Peeta...”

To my relief, he gives a hard, handsome laugh, rattling our tangled forms.

“That’s all I could ever hope for, sweetheart...” he replies with lingering chuckles, pressing his gentle lips to my dampened hair.

I sigh at the tender contact, but continue to push myself.

“Really though...I’m sorry...I didn’t...want to make you uncomfortable...”

“You didn’t.”

When I huff against his shoulder, he softly tugs me backwards, allowing our stares to connect once more.

“You didn’t, love. Clearly.” He chuckles a bit more, before falling back into his earnest tone. “Like I said, it was just...different, that’s all. I marvel in your beauty, you know.” 

When I scowl at him, at the compliment, he grins even wider.

“And yes, I’m used to seeing your face in this. But thankfully, every inch of you happens to be stunning.”

“Peeta...” I groan, feeling my cheeks flush something terrible beneath his onslaught of tender eloquence. Once more, he laughs, before leaning in to give me a quick kiss.

“I just got to address the less...frequented places,” he continues with a smirk, “Which after tonight, won’t stay that way for long, I’m sure.”

I huff, which again, earns another snicker coupled with a kiss. When we break away however, I find myself staring into those sparkling, warm blues. His expression shifts into something more gentle, more awed, surely catching the earnestness behind my stare. My hands reach up to cup his face, stroking my thumbs against his scarred yet softened skin.

“I did miss this, you know...” I whisper, topping my words off with a kiss to his nose.

“Well, I did say we have forever,” he replies with a growing, crooked grin.

“That’s not long enough for this either...”

I pull him into perhaps the softest, tenderest kiss of the night, one more fitting for the day than the dusk. It’s one I pour all my adoration into, of course having to verbally proclaim it all the same.

“I love you so much...” I murmur against his lips.

Once more, the connection breaks from the strength of his smile, delightfully warming body and soul before the sentiments are returned.

“And I love you...”

There we remain for numerous comfortable beats, continuing to lazily kiss and caress until the last of the sunlight disappears from the night sky. I find myself contemplating what lead to such an explosion, what lead to my desire firing off to such an extreme degree. Of course Peeta would be on the same wavelength, though the grinning question that breaks the silence gets me laughing and shoving his chest.

“You don’t...happen to have further tricks up your sleeve, do you?”

[leejungchans]

— unexpected.

🆕 ask juliet anything!! | juliet’s masterlist

word count: 2.1k

warning(s): mentions of self-doubt, insecurities and intrusive thoughts; someone says some pretty harsh words to juliet here but nothing extreme

disclaimer: please keep in mind that the trainer mentioned in this is a completely fictional character hence why his name is never mentioned!!

set in june 2019; a few days after ateez’s first win for wave

summary: in which the boys help juliet when she gets a message from someone who she never expected, nor wants, to see again.

a/n: putting juliet in a bit of Pain™️ here 😔 as always, you are always welcome to leave feedback or chat with me!! 💕💕

As Seonghwa clears away the dishes after dinner, he notices Juliet curled up on the sofa with her phone in hand. Normally, he wouldn’t think much of it, given the other members are doing the same as they lounge around the living room. But one look at the maknae’s grave expression tells him that something is wrong.

Jongho, who’s been helping Seonghwa take the plates into the kitchen, catches him staring and follows his gaze. The two silently watch as Juliet types something on her phone before furiously tapping on the screen to delete whatever she wrote with a frustrated sigh, her long acrylic nails creating a crisp tapping noise. This draws the attention of the other six boys as they all turn to look at her with concern, though she doesn’t seem to notice from being so focused on her phone.

“Minyoungie, is everything okay?” Hongjoong finally asks, sitting up from his spot on the ground.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, don’t worry,” she reassures with a stiff smile, but it’s evident that something is clearly bothering her.

The leader gets up to sit next to her on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want some time to yourself first?”

Juliet contemplates his question for a few seconds before speaking again. “It’s nothing serious, I guess,” she admits, “but one of my former trainers at SM messaged me just before dinner asking me to meet up with him, and I don’t know how to respond.”

“Oh,” Hongjoong says. The mention of her former company causes the others to pay full attention to their conversation, knowing how unpleasant her experiences with a few of her former trainers were though she never talked about such incidents in detail. “Do you want to, though?”

“No,” Juliet responds immediately, expression turning cold. “Not now, probably not ever.”

“What happened with him?” Wooyoung asks before quickly adding, “you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

Juliet sighs, stuffing her phone into the pocket of her hoodie before hugging her knees to her chest. “No, no. I think it’s about time I told you guys what happened exactly, I guess I never did because it felt like there was never a right time to bring him up, and also because it feels stupid to talk about it when I haven’t seen him in years, and have no intention of changing that.”

Wooyoung pats her knee comfortingly. “Tell us however much you’re okay with,” he says with a gentle smile, “you don’t have to go into full detail if you don’t want to.”

Juliet pants heavily when the music stops, crouching down to catch her breath desperately while cursing the horrible cold she’s been dealing with for the past few days.

She just knows everyone noticed how her movements have gotten more sluggish with every time they go over the dance, and the humiliation sears through her body like a raging fire.

Someone—she can’t see who and is too dizzy to even turn her head in that direction to check—comes up from behind to rub her back soothingly as her chest continues to heave from exhaustion.

“Five minutes,” the gruff voice of their dance trainer says, and the group of girls instantly scramble to where their water bottles are lined up neatly against the wall. “Baek Minyoung, not you.”

At the sound of her name, Juliet looks up to see the man crooking a finger, motioning for her to walk over to where he is in a secluded corner of the practice room. Shakily, she stands up as the other girls murmur quiet encouragements, though they quickly leave her side from the glare the man sends towards them.

Juliet knows that no amount of mental preparation is enough when it comes to this particular trainer, and it makes her heart sink deeper and deeper with every step she takes towards him.

Her head is bowed when he starts speaking, not daring to look into his flaring eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” the man wastes no time in asking accusingly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how terrible your dancing has gotten these few days? Do you think slackers have a place here? You looked like a dying slug out there.”

“No, Sir. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to slack off, I have a cold, which is why—”

“I’m not interested in hearing your excuses,” he cuts her off icily. “Do you know what idols do when they get sick? They keep pushing. And that’s the complete opposite of what you’re doing.”

“I understand. I’m really sorry. I will do better,” Juliet replies softly, voice barely above a whisper, hoping that he’ll let her off easy.

But today is not her lucky day. The sound of a dry chuckle sends chills down her spine.

“Do you want to know something?” She doesn’t. In fact, she dreads knowing. But something tells her she doesn’t have the luxury of choosing, so she continues to keep her head down and tries to zero in on her shoes to hold back her tears.

She can feel the weight of everyone’s stares on her back, and she wants nothing more than to disappear into thin air.

“There were discussions about adding you to Red Velvet along with Yeri. A few people thought you were too young, others saw potential in you,” the trainer sneers. “Personally, I don’t see any of that, and I’m glad that they ultimately did not debut you, because all I see is an ungrateful, lazy brat.”

Juliet bites down harder on the inside of her cheeks to keep the tears at bay, and it doesn’t take long for her to taste iron.

“You better go back there and get your crap sorted out. Because if I see you not being up to par with the others again, I will not hesitate to go to the higher-ups with this, then you can kiss your future in this industry goodbye. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Look at me when you answer.”

Juliet swears she’s never seen so much hatred and disdain in someone’s eyes until the moment their eyes meet. And it takes everything in her not to burst into tears as she repeats her response in a trembling voice.

The man scoffs, dismissing her with a wave of his hand as though batting away an insect before clapping his hands together to gain the others’ attention.

“Break’s over! Let’s hope some of you actually know what you’re doing this time,” he says scornfully, blissfully ignorant of the fact that every word he said feels like another stab to her heart.

When Juliet looks up at her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognised herself from how hollow and empty her gaze looks, a far cry from the girl who started her journey as a trainee with starry eyes and a fiery passion.

What had she become? is the last thought that comes to mind before the music starts again, and she can only hope that she can make it through the rest of the session without making a mistake or collapsing.

“So... that’s basically what happened,” Juliet chokes out, leaning her head back as she blinks back tears. To be honest, she had to give herself credit for getting through that story without crying, knowing that that incident in particular instilled a new, and much more profound, sense of fear and self-doubt within her. “You can now probably see why I don’t want to meet with him.”

San comes to sit on the armrest of the couch so he can wrap his arms around the girl. “I’m so sorry that happened, but I’m glad you’re not in that situation anymore.”

“Yeah, me too,” Juliet chuckles bitterly, still not meeting any of the boys’ eyes by looking down at her hands. “I don’t think I’ve been the same since then. I mean, not that it’s completely his fault because there were so many contributing factors, but... I’ve never looked at myself so negatively until that day... it suddenly felt like I was the only person who couldn’t see how utterly worthless I was... I don’t know.”

“But what did he text you?” Despite the anger he feels for this man for hurting her in such a way, Seonghwa still manages to stay levelheaded.

Juliet takes her phone out to reread the message. “He said he was watching M Countdown a few days ago and recognised me when we got our first win. He congratulated me and apologised for everything he said to me when I was at SM. Then he asked me if I wanted to meet with him for lunch.”

“But how did he get your number?” Yeosang wonders out loud, frowning deeply. “That’s kinda creepy.”

The girl shrugs. “Who knows? I don’t know what he’s up to now, but he likely still has contacts in the industry and asked around for my number.”

Wooyoung scoffs. “The fact that he only reached out now shows he’s probably not that apologetic, since he’s the one who implied he remembers everything he’s said to you. If he really felt guilty, he would’ve made use of those contacts of his to reach out to you to apologise a lot earlier.”

“That’s what I thought,” Juliet agrees. “The fact that he texted me right after our first win doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

Mingi huffs. “Maybe just tell him to get lost or something. He’s not worth the time.”

“If she isn’t an idol, she can cuss him out all she wants. But if like you said,” Hongjoong muses thoughtfully, turning back to Juliet, “and he’s either still in the industry or has contacts, then you can’t be too rude to him in case he tries to use it against you to paint you as some villain. You know how some people are.”

The others nod defeatedly. He has a point.

“Then... what do we do? We can’t let her go meet with him,” San says, his arms subconsciously holding Juliet a little tighter protectively.

“Of course not,” the leader assures, “I think the best course of action is to thank him for congratulating you, accept his apology—even if you don’t really want to, it can just be for show—and politely decline his invitation because your schedule is full.”

Juliet hesitates. “But what if he says that I’m lying to get out of it?”

“I mean, it’s not really a lie,” Yunho points out. “Our tour is coming up soon and we’re gonna be busy practising for it, so it really is the truth that you don’t have the time to see him. Plus, you don’t owe him anything, who cares if he thinks you’re lying or not?”

Juliet nods slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she tries to think of a response, but her mind is so overwhelmed from the sudden message and the memories that nothing comes up.

“Do you want me to help you type it?” Seonghwa asks tenderly after a while of watching her struggle to formulate anything.

“Yes, please,” Juliet says immediately, visibly relieved as she pushes her phone into Seonghwa’s hand. The oldest member cocks his head to the side while he thinks before typing something down.

A few moments later, he hands her back her phone. “Here. If you’re okay with this, then you can send it to him.”

The other boys crowd around Juliet so they can all read the message Seonghwa typed out. When done, she looks up at Hongjoong for confirmation.

“It’s good, I think,” he says approvingly. “It’s short and concise, polite but not too friendly or curt so there’s no way it can be taken out of context in case it somehow gets leaked.”

Juliet nods, pressing on the “send” button with bated breath. The moment she sends the message, she feels as though a huge weight has been lifted off her, having spent the whole time during dinner silently stressing over how she should respond to the point where she could barely get down her food.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she says, leaping off the sofa to throw her arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “I wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t for you guys. I actually contemplated pretending he had the wrong number or even meeting with him once so he’d leave me alone after that,” she admits, “but I’m glad you stepped in before I did either of those things.”

“And I’m glad you told us about this so we could work through it together,” Seonghwa smiles, stroking the girl’s head. “You don’t have to struggle with these things alone.”

“Now that we took care of that jerk, I think we should order chicken to celebrate!”

Seonghwa looks at the younger boy in disbelief. “Yeosang, we literally just had dinner!”

Juliet laughs. “It’s okay, there’s always room for chicken! Besides, I’m paying this time as a thank you!”

“In that case, who am I to complain?”

a/n: that incident was a pretty huge turning point for juliet in terms of her mental health. she already doesn’t feel confident in herself as most trainees are, but to hear from someone directly that she didn’t get to debut because she was apparently all those horrible things made a lasting impact on her, and since then she’s felt even more horrible about herself :( but she’s gotten a lot better at managing those feelings now and of course she has the support of the boys!!

[totallynormalfanficauthor]

The sound of the skeletal rooster crowing at the top of it’s nonexistent lungs was nothing new to Jack Skellington. It was the same sound he heard every morning- not that he cared. It woke him up just fine, so who was he to complain?

Jack turned over in his bed. He yawned and opened his sockets a tiny bit, waiting for his vision to adjust to the golden light of the pumpkin sun that was beginning to stream in from a nearby window. The first thing he laid eyes on was the beautiful river of red hair lying next to him. Sally was still asleep, resting on her side with her arms folded neatly in front of her. Her back was facing Jack, but he could hear her snoring softly. A  warm smile came across his skull, and he sighed contently. 

It had only been a month or so since the two of them were married, and Jack still found himself getting used to waking up with someone else in his bed. But he loved Sally with every ounce of his phantom heart; and wouldn’t have it any other way. Carefully, without disturbing her, Jack scooted closer and moved a piece of hair away from her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her gently, pressing his lips to the stitches that fell neatly under her eye. She stirred, but didn’t wake. 

He sat up, stretched his back, and decided now would be the best time to get up. Jack crawled out from under the blanket and finally to his feet. Yawning one last time, he headed straight for the closet, ready to get dressed and start his day. 

--

Jack cracked the egg into the pan, listening as it sizzled. After getting dressed and coming downstairs, he decided to make breakfast awhile. He wasn’t sure if Sally would be up before he had to leave, but, he always made enough for two just in case. At the very least, she could reheat it later. Or not- rotten eggs and toast were just as good cold. 

As he prepared their plates, his mind wandered around as it always does. He thought about Sally.. how beautiful, and sweet she was. Jack could still hardly believe they were finally.. well, together together. He glanced down at his wedding ring, smiling to himself.

A slight creek of the floorboards caught his attention. He glanced up, half expecting to see nothing, but to his delight was instead greeted by the image of Sally standing in the doorway. She was still wearing her nightgown, which was white in color and very light. It was made out of a smooth, silky material and fell just a little ways past her hips. She smiled at him. 

“..I thought I heard you get up.”

“Sally.” Jack smiled back. “Horrible morning, my love. Did you sleep well?”

“Just terribly, thank you. And you as well I trust?”

“As always.” Jack tilted his skull, keeping his gaze on his wife as he sliced their bread. “I apologize if I woke you..”

“Oh, no.” Sally shook her head, and finally made her way over to him. “I was already awake, I just heard the door close.”

“Oh, right. Well..” Jack leaned over and gave her a small peck on the cheek before motioning towards the stove. “I’m glad you’re awake, the eggs are almost ready. I hope that’s alright for this morning?”

Sally inhaled deeply. “They smell divine, Jack, thank you. It’ll do just fine but...you didn’t have to, really, I could’ve made something for myself”

“Nonsense, I’m happy to cook for you. Unless.. of course, you really wanted to? If that’s the case, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Jack” Sally reached up to cup his face. He fell silent at the gesture. “It’s okay, dearest. It's not a big deal who cooks for who. I appreciate you thinking of me” she patted the side of his face gently. “How about, if I cook dinner, then we’ll call it even?” 

The skeleton chucked, “Deal.” And kissed her once more before reaching over and sliding the rotten eggs onto their plates one by one.

--

After the couple finished up their breakfast, Jack washed the dishes and decided it was probably a good time to get ready to head into town soon. He was about to go back towards his bedroom to get his shoes when Sally called him into their living room. She spoke to him as he entered.

“Jack, Could I make something…” she pointed downward to the little ghost sleeping at her feet. “…for Zero?”

He smiled at the thought. “Like what?”

“I’m thinking…” she tapped her chin. “A scarf?”

Jack walked over and sat down on the couch next to her. He reached for her hand, squeezing it. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Sal.” 

“Do you? Good.” She squeezed his hand back and leaned close, so their noses were almost touching. “I hoped you’d think so..”

Her sudden closeness caught him a little off guard, but Jack took the hint. “Of course..” he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, a bit relieved to have access to her lips this time. Sally kissed back and wrapped her arms around his neck, practically melting into him. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist in response, enjoying this moment immensely. They probably would have continued, had a jarring noise not  suddenly cut through the air.

Brrriiiing

Brrriiiing

Brrriiiing

The phone. It rang loudly, and startled both of them. Jack pulled away and looked in its direction. 

“Probably the mayor…” his tone sounded slightly annoyed. He turned to Sally. “- I should get that.”

“Of course, go ahead.” 

The king stood up and walked to the opposite side of the room where the phone was hanging on the wall. He hesitated, cleared his throat, then picked it up.

“Skellington residence. Jack speaki-”

“Jack!!” the mayor's voice rang from the other side. “Thank HALLOWEEN you answered! Where are you?”

“Ah, horrible morning, Mayor. Still at home of course-“

“There are things that need to be done, Jack!! Halloween is only 96 days away! Why aren’t you here yet, it’s not like you to be late!”

If Jack had eyes, he’d be rolling them. “I’d hardly call it late..”

“It’s late by YOUR standards! You’re usually in town by now, what’s holding you?” 

“Er…” Jack glanced over at Sally, who was still sitting on the couch petting zero. “…I don’t know, nothing I suppose. We just finished eating, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Huff… alright. Terrible morning Jack, I’ll see you soon.” 

The skeleton hung up the phone and sighed. Typical mayor, never letting him get an ounce of alone time. 

Sally stood off the couch and walked over. “I take it you’re leaving now?”

“I’m afraid I must. I apologize.” 

“It’s quite alright love, you have important things to take care of. I still need to get dressed, anyways” she brushed off her nightgown and stood on her tiptoes to give him one last kiss on the cheek. “…I’ll try to come visit you in town later, how about it?” 

Jack nodded. “I would love that, thank you.” He glanced at the clock. “-I must be off. I’ll see you soon, Sal” he opened his arms and Sally came forward into his embrace. Her voice was muffled.

“See you soon, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

--

It seemed to be a fairly average day in town. As Jack walked the streets he greeted people on the side like he always does, everyone happy to see him as usual. He was able to get to the town square in a reasonable amount of time, which was good, because the mayor was already there waiting for him. A small stack of papers were piled in his tiny hands.

“Jack!! There you are!” He called out to him as he approached. “Horrible to see you, you almost scared me half to life when you weren’t here!” 

Jack sighed. The Mayor can be so dramatic sometimes. “Horrible to see you as well, Mr. Mayor. Shall we get started for the day?” 

“Ah, yes! Of course”, the shorter man cleared his throat and lifted the papers up to his face. “Firstly, we need to check in with all those who agreed to carve the pumpkins this year, to see how that’s progressing. You have a meeting with the vampires around 9:30… oh! And there are some documents in your office you’re going to need to have signed by tomorrow”

Jack nodded as he listened. “Very well, that all sounds… manageable. I suppose we should get started.”

“Yes! Let's not waste any more time” The mayor tucked the papers under his arm and scurried off in another direction. Jack folded his hands behind his back, and reluctantly followed. 

Jack Skellington found himself to be more tired than he thought he was. Or, maybe he was just bored. Or perhaps, a bit distracted. Maybe a little of all three. 

Most of his morning consisted of meeting with people. Checking in on the pumpkin carving, the training of the bats, etc etc. He was almost relieved when it came time to finally head back to his office to sign those documents the mayor spoke of. Typically the same ones each year, so Jack didn’t mind. 

The skeleton was sat at his desk, writing away with his quill. He tapped his foot lightly and hummed to himself. He was almost through all the papers, when there was a knock at the door. He looked up.

“Come in.”

The doorknob turned slowly and the door opened. Jack sat up straight and smiled upon seeing who his visitor was. 

“Hello there, Sally.”

“Hello, Jack.” Sally walked over to him happily, hands placed behind her back. “...I came to see you, just like I said.”

“So you have” the skeleton chuckled and stood from his seat, coming around to meet her on the other side of the desk.

“How was your morning?” She asked him.

“Relatively normal, the meetings ran smoothly. The vampires seem happy with their new role. How about you?” 

“Very good, thank you. I’ve already designed out a plan for Zero’s scarf- I think I’m going to head across town to buy some fabric for it after lunch.” She moved her head forward and leaned against her husband, taking his hand. “...I missed you, you know..”

“Awe, it’s only been a couple hours” he squeezed her hand back, “..I missed you as well. I felt bad leaving you so suddenly this morning.” 

“It’s nothing to feel bad about, dearest. You have important… kingly duties that need attending too.”

“Yes, but” Jack straightened his back to face her, brushing a piece of her hair to the side and cupping her cheek lovingly. “...Nothing is more important to me than you are.” 

Sally blushed a bit. “Well… I’m here now.”

He chuckled again, “True. And in that case..” Jack brushed his thumb along the side of her lip, and wrapped his free hand around her waist. “May I?”

“Of course..”

With both their eyes closed, they leaned in. Their lips barely brushed together when a loud bang was heard and the door suddenly swung open. 

“Jack!” the Mayor shouted as he strutted into the room, “Some of the ghosts have requested a meeting with you for this afternoon! Did you finish signing the-” he halted suddenly, noticing the image of the king and queen in front of him. “-papers….” 

Jack and Sally jolted away from each other, embarrassed. It would be one thing if they were in a private area, but technically Jack was supposed to be working right now. He let go of Sally and stared blankly at the mayor. It was quiet for a second, before the short politician spoke again.

“Is this… a bad time..?” 

“No..” snapping out of it, the skeleton cleared his throat and shook his head. “-No! No, no, it’s alright. What is it that you need, Mayor?” 

“Well… ahem.” he adjusted his papers, “-I was just coming to check if you were finished! Like I said, the ghosts have a matter in which they wish to speak with you about, they were hoping for this afternoon.” 

“I see..” Jack glanced at Sally- who was staring at the ground- before walking back around the desk to check his meeting schedule. “...I should have enough time to fit something in. Let them know I’ll come find them as soon as I can.”

“Will do! How are the documents coming along?” 

“Just fine, I’m almost finished.”

“Right, well… try to get done as quickly as possible! Remember there’s a lot to do today. I’ll check back in soon!” As he turned to leave again, he realized he hadn’t even acknowledged Sally. Not wanting to be rude, he tipped his hat to her awkwardly. “-horrible morning, Mrs. Skellington.” 

She forced a smile and waved. “Morning..” 

With one last nod, the Mayor turned and walked out the door. It shut with a very satisfying click. 

“Call me crazy, but...” Jack sat down in his chair. “...I don’t think we seem to be having very good luck today.”

“Well, that was certainly.. something.” She laughed nervously. “Doesn’t seem that way, does it? I should probably get going.” 

“Awe, so soon?” He teased. Sally rolled her eyes. 

“Nice try, Mr. Skellington. You’ve got documents to finish.” She thought for a moment. “How about.. If we meet up for lunch instead?”

“Horrific idea! I’ll come find you in… an hour maybe? How about it?” 

Sally smiled, heading towards the door. “Sounds good, my love. I’ll see you soon.” 

“You as well…” She blew Jack a kiss before finally departing. 

The skeleton sighed, slightly frustrated about being interrupted again, and annoyed that he’s back to work when he knows he’d much rather be spending time with his wife. Just one day… that's all he’d ask for. But.. he’ll get to see her again soon. Just knowing that she’ll be waiting to have lunch with him was enough to brighten his mood back up a bit. Picking up his quill, he dipped it in ink, and continued right where he left off. 

--

“This was a great idea, Sal.” Jack smiled at her as they walked along the side of the street, hand in hand. The restaurant they were going to eat at was just a few buildings away. “It feels like it's been ages since we’ve eaten out like this.”

“Oh, I agree” The ragdoll fluttered her eyelashes. “-And the nicest part is, we can spend more time together. I know we usually eat lunch just the two of us, but, It does feel like you’ve been rather busy as of late..”

“Ah, yes. Once we hit less than 100 days until Halloween.. My schedule can get pretty crowded.” He squeezed her hand, “-but you know I’ll always make time for you, just say the word, day or night.” Sally giggled. 

“I know… but I do hate to bother you when you’re busy.”

“I’ll never be too busy for you, Sally” The couple exchanged a heartfelt glance as they approached the doors to the restaurant. Jack held it open for her, bowed, and winked.

“-After you, my Queen.” 

The two chose to sit in the back, in a small secluded booth where they could finally be alone. They placed their drinks, which came rather quickly, and then their orders. Sally finally relaxed her shoulders and sighed.

“I forgot how nice this place is..” She admitted, “How long has it been since we were here?”

“Hmm…” Jack thought for a moment. “...I don’t think we’ve been here since before our wedding.”

“Oh, my. Well then, I’m very glad you could make it here with me.” 

“As am I..” he hesitated, before adding. “..The mayor seems determined on keeping us apart today, doesn’t he?” 

She laughed. “It does seem that way. I think he just wants you to stay focused on Halloween.” 

“Ohh, come on now. I’m plenty focused.” 

“Really? You weren’t thinking of me at all, earlier?” She teased him.

“Well…”

“That’s what I thought.” Sally laughed, grabbing the top of her straw and moving it to sip her Drink. Jack tried not to smile but couldn’t help himself. 

“Alright, you got me. Maybe I was a little distracted…” he reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers. “But how could I not be, when you’re so…” He searched his head for the right word, “...alluring.” 

She blushed a bit and intertwined her fingers into his. “You aren’t bad yourself, you know..”

The skeleton chucked, and opened his mouth to reply before being instantaneously cut off by a loud voice echoing through the restaurant. 

“JACK!! There you are!!”

For the love of the Pumpkin Patch you have GOT to be kidding me.

Jack turned around and sure enough, the mayor was rushing towards them with his unhappy face flipped. As he ran up to them he showed absolutely zero regard to the fact that he was OBVIOUSLY barging right into their date.

“Mayor-”

“JACK!! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!! We have a problem, we need you to come quick!” 

He glanced at Sally, then back to the mayor. “Surely, this can wait? I haven’t even-”

“NO!! There’s been an accident with the pumpkins!! We need you right NOW!!” 

The king sighed. Never a moment's peace. He looked at Sally, who had an expression of pity on her face. He felt absolutely horrible that their moment was being ruined yet again. And for a reason that was probably unnecessary, knowing how the mayor tends to overreact. But, it was clear he wasn’t going to leave without Jack. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll be right there..” He turned to his wife. “Sally-”

“No, Jack. It’s okay. I understand, this seems important.” She took his hand and they both stood out of their seats. “I’ll just take our food to go, okay? See you at home, dearest.” Jack nodded solemnly, kissed her once on the cheek and took his leave, following closely behind the mayor. Annoyance burned in the back of his throat, but he tried to swallow it and decided to just deal with the situation as quickly as possible. The sooner he could get home to Sally, the better. 

--

Truth be told, Sally expected this sort of thing to happen. The mayor… he was always like this. Could never seem to take a hint. But it was alright, it couldn’t be helped. She understood that perfectly.

The ragdoll was back at Skellington manor now, sitting on the second floor in her sewing room. She was currently working on that scarf she wanted to make Zero. As disappointed as she was that her date with Jack a few hours ago was cut short, she was at least somewhat glad to get started on this. After leaving the restaurant she spent some time around town, chatted with the witches a bit, purchased the fabric she needed and even was able to call and have a short conversation with Jewel over the phone. 

For Zero’s scarf she picked the color combination of black, white, and orange, thinking it would go well for the ghostly pup. At the moment, he was sleeping soundly at her feet, seeming unaware of the gift his mistress was making him. 

Sally glanced at the clock, wondering how long it would be before Jack would return home. Almost on cue, she heard the front door open.

Jack was exhausted after today. Sure, he got lots of work done, but it seemed to be that the one thing he wanted to do was the one thing he couldn’t - spend time with his beloved. While yes, they have all the time they could want together during most of the evening and the night, but it doesn’t feel much the same. He wanted to be able to do more with her, spend time around town, without getting interrupted constantly. He knows that he usually gets busy around this time- but- this would be the first time experiencing a busy rush while being a married man. 

Jack shook his head to clear it. He reminded himself that this won’t be his only opportunity- that didn’t stop him from being annoyed, however. But he was home now. So it no longer mattered. 

He slipped off his shoes, and then his suit jacket, hanging it up by the door. “Dearest?” he called, “I’m h-!”

Jack’s sentence was cut off as Sally came at him suddenly, jumping and  wrapping her arms around him. He made an ‘oof’ sound as her weight was thrusted onto his chest, rather unexpectedly.

“Sal..”

“Welcome home, my love!” she cooed.

“Ah...haha..thank you. I’m glad to finally be here.”

“So am I..” 

“What have you been up to..?”

“Oh, nothing much. But I have been waiting for you. What do you say we relax a bit? Before making dinner?” 

“After today? I’d love nothing more.” The skeleton chucked and let go of her. They walked across the room to the lunge area, sitting back on the couch where they were that morning so they could be more comfortable. A bit of cuddling would really hit the spot right now. 

Jack sat down and opened his arms to her, to which Sally took the invitation right away. She fell into his lap with no hesitation, then onto her back to the side which pulled him down next to her. They wrapped their arms around each other and Sally nuzzled herself into his collar. She sighed blissfully through her nose. 

“I needed this… I love you, Jack..” 

“I love you too” Jack smiled, he tilted his head down and left soft kisses across her cheek that trailed down the stitches by her lips. She giggled at this, about to turn her head to kiss him back when,

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

The doorbell screamed loudly, once again startling the both of them. Jack, fed up, expressed his annoyance out loud this time. 

“Are you serious right now..”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “You were right, it’s just not our day, is it?” 

“I don’t feel like getting up…”

“Jack, go answer the door please.” 

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

It rang again. Jack grumbled. 

“This is getting kind of ridiculous..” 

“Sweetheart, the sooner you answer the door, the sooner you come back here.” 

As ticked off as he was, Jack knew she was right. Reluctantly, both of them sat up and let go of eachother. The king got off the couch and began making his way towards the door.

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

“JAAACK?? ARE YOU HOME?”

The third screech was accompanied by the mayor's voice. Go figure. Whatever he wanted, it better be important. He was ecstatic when Jack opened the door. 

“Ah!! There you are!! I thought I'd seen you come back here.” Trying to stay patient with him, Jack just nodded. 

“Yes, do you need something, Mr. Mayor?” 

“Right, of course! I just wanted to bring you these.” He held out a stack of papers in his hand. He explained, “..These are the things I’ve gathered that need to be done in the next two days!! There’s quite a bit on there… I figured you might want to get a head start!” 

He took the stack from him and examined it. He was right… There was a lot. But Jack really wasn’t in the mood for this right now. 

“..I see. Thank you, Mayor, I’ll be sure to get started as soon as possible.”

“Horrible to hear!! Well, I have to get going. I’ve got a few more things to organize myself- have a terrible night, Jack!”

“You as well.” He bid him goodbye, and shut the door behind him.

Finally back inside, Jack dropped the papers onto the counter. He paged through them briefly… It could take a while to get through this. It would probably be wise to start that night.

But no.

Right now, all he really wanted to do was be by Sally’s side. Just to hold her, and not have to worry about anything for a little while. 

He brushed the papers off to the side, deciding right then that he would deal with it tomorrow morning. Because right now, he finally, FINALLY had the one thing he wanted all day. 

Just him, Sally, and their love for eachother.

He could never ask for anything better.