#rugged phone review

[androidaddictsx]

Doogee V31 GT Review - InfiRay Thermal Imaging Rugged 5G Phone

The V31 GT is the latest InfiRay Thermal Imaging rugged smartphone from Doogee. It packs a MediaTek Dimensity 1080 CPU, 12GB RAM, 256GB storage and of course a Thermal Imaging sensor with InfiRay software. Along with Night Vision and a 10800mAh battery

The V31 GT is the latest InfiRay Thermal Imaging rugged smartphone from Doogee. It packs a MediaTek Dimensity 1080 CPU, 12GB RAM, 256GB storage and of course a Thermal Imaging sensor with InfiRay software. Along with Night Vision and a 10800mAh battery this phone has a lot to offer. Amazon affiliate link:https://amzn.to/3PkVN8YIncludes £90 off + use code: V31GTDOOGEE for 5% off! If you want to…

[kirby-the-gorb]

[techhub123]

"Oukitel WP32 Pro Rugged Smartphone | 6-inch HD, 24GB+256GB, Octa-Core Power! #OutdoorPhone #RuggedSmartphone #TechReviews"

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: In Which Gojo Satoru Commits Regicide.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 0.7k.

TW: Mentions of Consensual Sex and Off-Screen Violence. I Am Coping, But I Am Also Pissed. Be Patient, I Beg of You.

Live Dove: Tender and Sweet.

You’d been a little confused when Satoru came home uncharacteristically giddy in spite of the bitingly cold February weather, and a little more than confused when he said he had something to show you, took you by the arm, and teleported you out of your apartment entirely (after waiting for you to give your clear and enthusiastic consent, of course). You had no idea where he was taking you, but it only took a single second of whipping your head in either direction, a single glimpse of those awful bright yellow curtains and tacky eagle rug, to know where you were.

“Satoru,” you gasped, and his grin widened. “Is this the oval office?”

“The one and only.” His voice was low and smug, his tone more than enough to prove that he already knew you like your surprise. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he swept the content the presidential desk in the floor with his free hand and lifted you onto its outer edge, placing himself in the space between your open legs as if brought there by a gravitational pull. You draped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a long, deep kiss as sweet as apple pie, or funnel cake, or other true symbols of American culture that were formed through a broad, grassroot endearment rather than a bunch of gross old men deciding they’d look cool on a flag three-hundred years ago.

Reminded of gross old men, you pulled away with another sharp gasp. “But, ‘toru, what if he catches us?”

You had no problem with getting your back blown out by your loving boyfriend in one of the most sacred rooms in the United States, but if that lead-paint poisoned geezer happened to walk in (if he even could walk on his own, anymore), it’d totally ruin the mood. Satoru only laughed. “Don’t worry, baby,” And then, flashing you a quick wink, “I made sure to clear the place out for us.”

“Satoru, you didn’t!”

“Guess some fascists just can’t handle their blunt force damage,” he said, shrugging. Suddenly, your expression dropped, and Satoru noticed right away. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Well, it’s not that the racist, senile felon didn’t deserve to have his skull caved in by a bisexual transgender man – since, y’know, we’re both bisexual and transgender.” Satoru nodded, affirming the fact that you two were similarly transgender and also bisexual, which you were. “It’s just – now that misogynistic white supremacist who jerks off to Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale every night before fucking his couch is going to be president, and that that kind of sucks too.”

“James David Vance?”  Satoru asked, refusing to use his initially and therefore highlighting how stupidly pretentious his name was. “You think too little of me, sweetheart.”

Possibly for the third time, you gasped. “Is he…?”

“Mhm. Took care of him right before I came home, got him right as he was coming out of his filler appointment. Beat him to death with a copy of his own book and everything, after leaving it a one-star review on Goodreads, of course.” Again, he shrugged, but smile gave away his self-satisfaction. “It’s all in a day’s work for the world’s strongest and most politically active sorcerer, I guess.”

“But, if that pathetic old man and his castrated lapdog are both dead, then who’s the president?”

“Check the news, baby.”

You fished your phone out of your pocket as Satoru sucked hickeys into your neck, obviously waiting until he had your full attention to go further. Again, you gasped. You were starting to lose count of how many times that’d happened, so far. “Abortions and insulin are provided upon request and also free now?!”

“Oh, wait, are they?” You turned your screen in his direction, and Satoru hummed in approval. Everyone’s quality of life had gotten a lot better since your good friend, Nanami Kento, was placed onto the Supreme Court in the final days of Biden’s term. “Sick. Not what I was talking about, though – scroll down.”

You scrolled down, and gasped once more. Your throat was starting to hurt. “Everyone in the country’s unanimously ellected the first female president?”

“Not just any female president,” he said, smirking and tapping on a trust-worthy article from a reliable and non-partisan source. “Say her name for me, baby.”

The final gasp you gaspt was the loudest and most gasp-like of all.

“Hatsune Miku?!”

[neonovember]

So I currently have food poisoning and I can’t help but it think how mad Carmy would be if a restaurant gave his gf/wife food poisoning

Also Carmy come take care of me and make me soup plz 🙇‍♀️😫

Plus he would give the best snuggles 😭

firstly, sending lots of love and recovery, i've never actually had fp lmao so a lot of time on webmd will be spent. get ur fluids in! secondly, carmen might have to go underground for setting the restaurant on fire. we love him for it

summary: You were hungry and had just finished work and you didn't think about inspecting the goddamn Michelin star restaurant, maybe you should have.

warnings; cursing, food poisoning, richie (he's a warning), hipsters, talks of future arsony, possessive carmen, cracked fic ngl,

divider by @firefly-graphics

i'm slipping back into the unsafe territory of wanting fictional characters. (and i don't care)

You could roll your eyes in annoyance if you weren't hunched over the ceramic bowl of the toilet heaving out the contents of your stomach while Carmen held you hair back.

The one time, the one goddamn time you decide to try a new place without Carmen's input, without his meticulous standards and in depth research behind every night out.

It wasn't like you hadn't tried to vet the new braised beef spot that opened up on west Avenue. In fact, you had heard all but stellar reviews from friends and family, meeting you with suprise hearing that Carmen hadn't taken you. You decided to bring home a small plate, their signature braised meat with plums, red onions and atrichocke hearts.

You had meant to share it with Carmen, and you were going to, but a botched catering order had him staying back another hour than what had been planned. And well..you say you tried to save some for Carmen, but despite its bacteria laced beef and vomit inducing sides it was pretty fuckin' good.

Was this God's wrath coming down upon you? Punishing you for your gluttony? Food poisoning did feel awfully close to perpetual hellfire.

The TV was blaring some indescriptive show, the kind with dramatic introductions and soap opera worthy screams. It helped fill the space of absence when Carmen worked long nights, and you felt quite comfortable wrapped up in a blanket with a full stomach and a warm sofa.

Your phone had pinged with the sound of Carmen's text, letting you know he was on the way when it started. At first you had written it off as mere indigestion, probably from shoveling the cursed meal into your mouth too quickly.

Then, around the time the show's main character had found out her boyfriend got her mother pregnant, the nausea set in. Swirling aches that felt like a whirlpool in your stomach had taken over, sloshing and swirling and never leaving. You couldn't mistake it, as you tried to swallow past a dry throat and the creeping sweats of a headache inducing fever began to ravage your body.

You hated sitting in discomfort, it wasn't as though you were afraid of vomiting no, you just could not bare to feel the way your stomach skipped and jumped with every wave of nausea that took over.

You thought of making yourself sick, but shook your head when the alarming disapproval of Carmen's voice loomed over.

"It's just gonna make it worse, you gotta sit with it till it passes"

Fuck him and his medical knowledge. What did he know?

You had ripped off the blanket that had once felt comforting, peeling of layers of clothing that stuck to your body like a second skin. You just felt hot, so hot, is anyone else feeling this heat? You try to move from the couch to reach your phone, but the sudden movement has nausea bubbling up your throat.

You fall to the ground in a heap, hand clasped around your mouth to stop the possibility of projectile vomiting on the rug you had just bought and shoot your hand up to reach for your phone.

You press Carmen's number, begging him to answer you in genuine crisis rather than when you were drunk with friends and missed him. You feel the urge to heave and crawl quickly to the bathroom, phone clasped in hand and suddenly desperately needed his medical knowledge.

Carmen phone rings from the behind the stack of documents in the office, and he hastily wipes his hands across his apron before trying to reach it before it rings out.

Guilt fills his stomach at the thought of you, he was meant to be home hours ago. The catering order needed a few extra hands to help, and once Carmen began he got lost in it, and now you had spent nearly the entire night alone.

"Fuck- Hey baby, I know I said I was comin' but I had to finish a couple things-" Carmen quickly responds as he swipes the call button.

The groan of pain that responds has Carmen freezing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Baby? What-, are you okay?" Carmen replies quickly, his voice going short as his mind turns every possible scenario that had you whining in pain over the receiver.

"Please come quickly, Carmen I think I might-" You gulp and make a retching sound "I think I got sick from that place I was telling you about" You plead out, breathing heavily into the speaker.

The guilt that had filled Carmen seems to morph into an anger that rushes up his chest as he shakes his head.

"The new place? The one with the fuckin' smoke meat? They did this?"

"Mhm" You mumble "I should've just listened to you" You groan out in sadness.

"Fucking idiots. How the fuck did they even? Okay, okay honey just gimme a second yeah?"

How did he let this happen? Carmen has half the mind to stop at the restaurant that more of a Instagram attraction that a respected place of business. You were so eager and excited t try it, Carmen had his own thoughts but would glue his mouth shut if it meant making you happy.

He'll make sure they get shut down, or at least black listed from Chicago as long as he's concerned. His hands shake with the eager want for the fight, to smash someones jaw for resorting you to a heap of tears and sick. He would, he knows he will, but at this moment he needed to take care of your first.

He mumbles out a rushed reply, phone between his shoulder and ear as he slips out of his work shoes and into his sneakers. He thinks for a moment to grab his things but immediately shut that thought out when he hears you groaning into the phone.

"Just stay on the phone okay? I'm coming now, I need to get you some things alright?"

You let out what you hope is a reply, hunched over the toilet.

Carmen rushes to the store fridge, grabbing containers of soup Tina had prepared for family as the Chicago winter was getting close.

"You alright kid?" Richie mumbles, walking into the kitchen entry way, scratching his stomach as he watched Carmen's erratic movements around the store.

"Fuckin-, she's sick. And I'm here chopping up tomatoes for fucking Guy while she was in pain for god knows how long-"

"Woah, Bugs sick? We talking COVID or.."

"I'm such a fucking idiot. No it's not COVID Rich, Jesus Christ. Some rookie new spot trying something outside of their abilities gave her food poisoning. Fuckin' hipsters"

"Oh that's bad. You know when I got food poisoning the one time I took Tiff to this romantic getaway. Had me projectile vomiting in the AirBnb bathroom. Couldn't even get a deposit back, had to pay some dumb ass cleaning fee-"

Carmen wipes a hand across his face shaking his head. He was already pent up, he might throw a pan at Richie if he doesn't stop talking.

"Richie, I don't have time for this, I need to get her some Sprite or"

Richie shuffles across to the cupboard near the back of the house, grabbing bottles of Gatorade and a pack of saltine crackers.

"How do you even have this stuff lying around"

"You're the one with the inhuman alcohol tolerance Carmy, someone of us actually have hangovers you freak" Richie retorts

"Yeah yeah, thanks. Fuck- I gotta" Carmen replies, to which Richie nods.

"Go. I'll wrap up anything here" Richie replies, understanding in his voice. You took precedence over pretty much everything in Carmen's life.

"And Carm?"

"Yeah?" Carmen calls out, slipping on his jacket as he turns to Richie

"Tell me when we're going to sort out those bearded wearing flannel ass wipes"

Carmen shakes his head with a smile, before nodding and pushing past the kitchen doors. The traffic lights better be green green fuckin' green tonight.

You were stripped to a singlet and sleeping shorts as you knelt over the toilet, blinking back exhausted tears at the state of you.

You suppose you have no one else to blame but yourself, but the indignation righteousness burns almost as bright as the acid reflux crawling up your throat.

You hear the faint opening and loud clang of the apartment door opening and closing and you sigh in relief as you hear the familiar footfalls of Carmen down the hall.

It had felt damn near torturous suffering without him, and as he calls out to you following the trail of loose clothing he spots your figure in the bathroom sprawled.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry" Carmen says

And it was as if your body needed to finally feel safe in Carmen's presence before you felt the nausea spill out of you and splash offensively into the toilet.

You feel Carmen crouch above you, dragging your hair that had gone loose from it's wrapped up do away from your face. Gently rubbing your back, his large hands softly dipping up and down your spine.

"That's it, 'atta girl. Let it all out" Carmen coo's softly

You purged the insides of your stomach into the toilet bowl, retching loudly with every heave as Carmen comforted you. After what seemed like hours, and the nausea had subsided Carmen carefully wrapped his arms up under your armpits picking you up of the floor.

"Slowly, yeah? You damn near emptied out you're entire water content" Carmen murmurs, flushing the toilet and helping you walk to the basin and wash out the taste of bile from your mouth.

"I probably look insane" You cry out, blinking back exhaustion from your eyes as Carmen shakes his head furiously.

"Never, my pretty girl. Need you to go easy okay? Gonna take you to bed and let you sleep through it. Can't have you collapsing on me" Carmen murmurs, wiping at the edge of your mouth, patting the sweat that stuck to your forehead.

You let Carmen carefully maneuver your body, one arm under your legs and the other supporting your back walking to the bedroom. Your wring dry and can barely keep your eyes open as Carmen placed you on the cool sheets you immediately moan at.

You hear the faint rustle of movement as Carmen brings in a paper bag. The clunk of bottles placed on the bedside table as you sing praise for the very short bit of relief you have before the next bout of nausea rolls in.

Carmen pads to the adjacent bathroom, the door opened so you can see the stream of light that illuminates him. Hes running a cloth under water, squeezing the excess and looking up to check on you every so often.

He looked so...domestic, like he hadn't come back from working at one of the most decorated restaurants in Chicago. Stripped of his shirt so he stood bare chested, golden curls pushed behind his ears, sweatpants hung low on his hips and the furrow of his eyebrows in concentration and worry.

Your eyes flutter shut as you thank the midnight sky for bringing him to you, for keeping him for you, this one good thing that was yours.

The skies answer by the sound of his voice listing off all the things you will not be doing in this stage of recovery. Sitting on the edge of the bed as he places the cool rag against your forehead, lips between teeth as he feels your temperature under his skin.

"Just bone broth, Gatorade and bread sticks for you, doll. And no, before you even think it, its not the garlic ones." Carmen tsks.

You were thinking it. He knew you too well, but when he kisses your eyelids and measures out careful tips of the Gatorade bottle, you don't mind it.

[rafesbabygirlx]

𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 “𝙸’𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍” 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚢

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚔𝚢𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 (𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢, 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐)

𝙰/𝚗- 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎. 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚣𝚣𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚜�� 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙿𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜! 💗

𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍

It was late in the evening, the golden glow of the sunset fading into the soft twilight spilling through the window. You sat cross-legged on your shared bed, phone clutched in your hand, grinning like a fool. Drew had been away for a few days, caught up in press junkets and interviews for Queer, the film that had just solidified his status as a powerhouse actor. It was all anyone could talk about, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

For the last three years, you had been Drew’s partner in every sense of the word—his anchor, his confidant, and his biggest cheerleader. And now, seeing the world finally recognize what you’d known all along, you felt a swelling pride that had butterflies stirring in your stomach. It was intoxicating.

You had spent hours scrolling through Instagram, TikTok, Twitter—hell, you even Googled him to read every article, fan comment, and review. Some may think it’s obsessive. No. It was love. And joy. And pride.

Then, a curious link to Tumblr caught your eye. Clicking it, you discovered a treasure trove of fanfiction. Some of it was about his Outer Banks character, Rafe, but most of what you found centered on him. The words were vivid, raw, and dripping with the kind of unfiltered adoration you felt but never could articulate.

You devoured the stories, one after another. Heat crept up your neck as the authors painted vivid, intimate pictures of Drew—or Rafe. Hours later, your phone’s low-battery warning flashed. You didn’t even care.

It wasn’t until Drew’s voice broke through your concentration that you realized he was home.

“Hey, babe,” he called, stepping into the room. He looked every bit of a movie star—broad-shouldered, a perfect mix of rugged charm and boyish mischief in his eyes. You hadn’t even noticed the sound of the front door earlier.

Startled, you straightened up, quickly adjusting to sit with your back against the headboard. “You’re home early,” you said, your cheeks flushed.

“Caught you off guard?” he teased, stepping closer. “I missed you. What are you doing?”

You patted the space next to you. “Come here. You need to see this.”

Curious, Drew sat beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. “What is it?”

You handed him your phone, biting your lip as he started to read the story you’d just finished. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and then a slow, amused chuckle escaped his lips. He ran his thumb and pointer finger down his mouth, shaking his head.

“That was, uh… interesting,” he said, his voice laced with amusement and just a hint of something else.

You couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Right? They’re so good. Better than any of those smutty novels you tease me about. But only because they’re about you. I don’t have to drown out the descriptions of the characters to picture us.” Your voice dropped and you moved in close to his ear, your breath hitching slightly. “I don’t even have to imagine you. It’s you.”

Drew’s eyes darkened slightly as he registered the shift in your tone. His turned his head to look towards you, gaze flicked down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

You moved quickly, straddling his lap. His hands instinctively settled on your hips as you leaned in, your lips grazing the edge of his jawline. “I’ve been reading these all day,” you whispered against his skin, your breath warm and tantalizing. “And they’ve got me… worked up. If you know what I mean.”

You pressed down against him, your arousal unmistakable. Drew’s hands tightened on your waist as a low groan escaped him.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, though his voice was full of amusement and lust.

You kissed along his neck, your fingers threading through his hair. “Mmm, but you like it,” you teased, rolling your hips ever so slightly. “I want to have some fun.”

Drew tilted his head back, his grin laced with heat. “I’d say you’ve earned it.”

As you continued to tease him, Drew's hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine. You shivered at the touch, your lips finding his in a hungry kiss. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he stood up, lifting you with him.

"I've been thinking about you all day, didn’t think you were too. I couldn’t fucking wait to get home." Drew growled, his voice low and husky. "I've been thinking about fucking you, about making you scream my name."

You moaned, your body responding to his words, wrapping your arms around his neck. "These stories had me thinking about you too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I've been thinking about your cock inside me, about feeling you fuck me senseless. Just like the one you just read.”

Drew smiled, his eyes burning with heat as he undressed you and laid you down on the bed. "Get on top of me now. Please, Drew," you whispered, your voice filled with desire. "I want to feel you inside me, I want you fuck me like you mean it."

Drew followed, undressing and positioning himself between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. "You want me to fuck you like I mean it?" he repeated, his voice dripping with filth. "You want me to make you feel like a slut?"

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I want you to make me feel like a dirty little slut, I want you to make me feel like I'm yours."

Drew smiled, his eyes burning with heat as he entered you. "You are mine," he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're my dirty little slut.”

He bottomed out in you and immediately began his ravishing pace, the pads of his fingers found your clit, rubbing against it in a gentle, teasing touch. "You like that, don't you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with filth. "You like feeling like a dirty little slut, you like feeling like you're being fucked senseless."

You moaned, your body responding to his words. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Tell me then.”

"I love feeling like a dirty little slut, I love feeling like I'm being fucked senseless."

As he continued to move, his hands grasped your hips, holding you in place as he pounded into you. "All fours baby," he whispered, "I want you to feel me fuck you from every angle, I want you to scream my name."

Drew pulled out, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. "I want to hear you fucking scream when I fuck this pussy," he repeated, his voice dripping with filth. "You want me to make you feel like filthy whore?"

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," you whimpered, your voice barely audible. "I want you to make me feel like I'm yours to use and abuse."

Drew smiled, his eyes burning with heat as he entered you from behind. "You are mine to use and abuse," he growled, his voice low and husky. He was always good in bed, but between how hot and bothered you were from all the reading and Drew taking these fantasies out on you that you just became obsessed with, you didn’t know how much longer you could last.

As he moved, his hands grasped your hips, holding you in place as he pounded into you. You felt yourself building towards a climax, your body tensing as the pleasure grew. Drew reached his arm around you, his fingers finding place on your clit again.

He thrusts into you hard, fingers working in quick circles. You find yourself meeting his thrusts and it became hard to keep yourself up on your hands. “You scream out his name when you come and your upper half goes limp on the bed. He gives you a few minutes to come down from your high and catch your breath before he speaks again.

"We’re not done yet, ride me," Drew whispered, his voice is deep with desire. "I want you on top of me, I want you to use me to fuck yourself.”

You pick yourself up, moving towards him at the head of the bed as you straddle his hips. You sink down on his cock, it stretches you wide open, you sat for a moment as he peppered kisses along your neck. You began to move, your body bouncing up and down. He lifted his hands to your breasts, squeezing them as his fingers played with your nipples. The sensation was exhilarating, the pleasure building again as you moved.

As you continue to ride him, your legs began to tire and he could tell. Drew's hands moved and grasped your hips, guiding your body up and down keeping the momentum, you grew closer to climax and began clenching around him again.

"Fuck you feel so fucking good," he moaned out, his voice dripping with filth. "You're so beautiful, and tight, and so wet for me baby.”

You smiled, your lips curling up as you continued to move. It being the only thing you could do. No words seemed to be able to form. The heat inside you was building, growing with each move. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tensing as the climax approached.

And then, in a burst of pleasure, you came, your body shuddering as you collapsed onto Drew's chest. He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you caught your breath.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

"I love you too," Drew whispered back.

As you two settled in for the night you grabbed your phone and downloaded Tumblr immediately.

When I think of this, these are SOME fics flashing through my mind:

This blurb by @starkeyisthelastname

This blurb by @starkeyisthelastname

Trailerpark!Rafe by @starkeyisthelastname - clearly I’m in love with you

behind closed doors by @httpsdrewstarkey

the annual christmas sorority date auction by @starkeysprincess (and basically anything else she writes)

swipe, fuck, leave by @cameronsprincess (again, everything else she writes too)

breathe, baby by @rafescokewhore (including every other writing and her Drew series flights, I’ve read it 4x and still can’t get enough)

Taglist (including some moots 💞)- @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @megiiite @percysley @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @kieeslove @snowtargaryen @angelicameron @maybankslover @etheraltides @cooper8224 @hockeybabe87 @xdaughterofpersephonex @leather-n-velvet @mima116 @urbrunettebombshell @pogueprincesa @purplerose291 @frankoceanluvr11 @ivysprophecy @starsmoonn @akobx @rafestify @marleymarleymarleymarley @littlelamy @diasnohibng @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @carolineisdelusional @rafeysangelbaby @nemesyaaa

[orbitariums]

rum punch | patrick zweig x black fem reader

writing this because patrick is definitely the type to text you like “if you wanna pull up just to get fucked here’s the addy”

obsessed with this song right now (rump punch by cash cobain) and listened to it over and over while writing this. i recommend listening to compliment your reading experience 🙏🏾 it’s sooo challengers especially patrick zweig coded. let’s review: “top five nasty, you ain’t even gotta ask me” and “soon as you leave i miss u too, like damn”; “don’t be asking questions like a interview cuz you really know what we finna do”...  “i just made her cum twice you ain’t make her cum once”?!!>!##? that’s patrick DOWN. sorry it must be said… 

so a little drabble-ish thing is ahead! contains: cheating (ooops), degradation, smut

it started when you started dating your current boyfriend, or at least that’s what you would tell yourselves to make you feel better about the whole ordeal — not that patrick cared much to begin with. but anybody who knew you and patrick knew that this had been going on for far longer than either of you would care to admit, or that either of you had enough introspective ability to even realize. every single playful shove, every time you squeezed his hand to deflect from parting at the end of a hangout, the way he’d stack his legs on top of yours while you were studying even though he knew you “hated” it, his thumb circling your hand, your head on his shoulder during a late night movie sesh with art and tashi, eyes fluttering closed until you found sleepy heaven in the perfect crevice of his neck. nearly every time you saw each other, which was frequent, you were touching without touching. art, who wasn’t one to make crass comments often, would always tell patrick: “it wouldn’t even make a difference, you should just go ahead and fuck each other. the shit you two do is more than just sex.”

it was 11:16 pm when you called him. your boyfriend had sped off in the middle of the night in a fit of anger after an intense argument about the same thing for the hundredth time. you were so tired. you’d been so close to texting or calling him before, but you refrained — you didn’t want things between the two of you to get messy when nothing in your life was going right in the first place. but now that you were nearly slumped against the wall with tears hot against your face, so tired beyond comprehension, you could blame it on the delirium brought on by exhaustion. you told yourself you just needed the comfort of your close friend, who always made you laugh.

“patrick, can i come over?” you’d asked, your voice trembling, your face buried in your sweater sleeve. 

patrick had never heard you sound so upset — he’d never even seen you cry. when you were around him, you were always so jovial and giggly. so when he heard your voice on the phone, so late at night, sounding so fragile and fractured, his eyebrows immediately knit together with concern, and he sat up on his couch. 

“yn, are you okay? is everything alright, you sound—”

“i’m fine,” you sniffled, breath catching on your voice multiple times. “just-just need a friend. please, can i come over?”

you couldn’t see it, but his features softened, and some wedge in his heart seemed to shift over,

“yeah. yeah, of course you can.”

he was so confused, but just glad to know that you were at least okay, taking pride in the fact that he was who you wanted to be around, whatever was going on. he made some rushed efforts to tidy up his bachelor apartment, sweeping crumbs under the rug, tucking in pillows on the couch, throwing yesterday’s takeout into the overflowing trashcan, and swiping the trash off his coffee table. 

he couldn’t believe how shrunken you looked when you appeared in front of his door that night, clad in an oversized stanford hoodie and sweatpants, slippers, tears still welling up in your eyes. this couldn’t be the same yn pushing him off of her with excessive force and maniacally cackling at his stupid jokes. 

“wh-”

before he could get a word out, you threw your arms around your waist, plopping your head down on his chest. he stilled for a moment out of shock, then relaxed into your touch, embracing you with his arms around your shoulders and down your back, holding you because he knew that’s what you needed right now. 

and then you were pulling away, sniffling and wiping away your tears, finally feeling some ounce of comfort now that you were with him. you knew, you knew, this was what you needed, as much as you had resisted this very thing. 

“it’s chris,” you said, moving past him and inside his apartment, groaning as you plunked down onto the couch. 

now, looking out the open door at the hallway ahead of him, patrick was nodding to himself silently, like he had come to some realization. he sat beside you, and you turned to him with a pout. and it was then that patrick knew he was not a good man for thinking about how pretty you looked with tears streaking your face and your lips pressed together in a girlish pout. 

“he’s like… intimidated by me or something. every single thing i tell him about my day, about work, about my friends, my wins… he’s always finding some thing to harp on like i’m some villain stopping him from achieving his finance bro dreams. he hates that i’m living my life because he isn’t living his yet. so every thing i earn, he just picks it apart and tears it down, questions my motives for everything.”

“he’s a dick, alright?” patrick said, in that ever so frank tone that you honestly missed, and wished you could hear during these arguments with your boyfriend. “yn, i’d never… we wouldn’t treat you like that, me and art and tashi. we’re your real friends, we celebrate you. that’s how a relationship’s supposed to go. he’s a stupid fuck.”

you grinned a bit at his correction, the corner of your lips turning up.

“i know you wouldn’t.”

“can i ask you something though, yn?”

“mhm?” you looked up at him with such innocent doe eyes that he didn’t want to call bullshit, but he was calling bullshit. 

“why… why’d you come over here? why not to tashi or your mom’s or… anyone else? why me?”

you sighed deeply, shaking your head,

“because, patrick, i… i just… want you right now.”

his face impossibly close to yours, intruding your senses and all your walls before you even realized they were up. 

“how do you want me?” he asked, his voice the softest it had ever been, his breath tickling your cheek. 

you were hoping you wouldn’t have to finish your sentence, and patrick knew it — his hands gripped the sides of your face with a stronghold, and then your lips were crashing against each other like a wave coming to the tide, foaming and sputtering and wetting the cracked sand at the shore. and it didn’t take long before you were climbing on top of him and straddling him, your clothes falling off one by one. his rough hand clutching your breast and squeezing, another in your panties navigating your clit like a fucking expert, making your back arch against the air. then your legs by your head as patrick drove himself into you, tender and slow and making you see stars instead of his face and the ceiling. fucking every tear out of you, turning your sobs of pain into sobs of pleasure. your moans were like a choir to him, licking flames against his earlobes each time you whimpered his name, leaving little half-circle imprints in his back with his nails. sweat dripping down his forehead as he clutched his eyes shut and tried not to come too fast, tried not to let the way you wrapped around him like a fucking snake— pussy squeezing his cock, legs trapping him inside you, hands roaming his back like new found land — make him lose focus. 

“fuck, your fucking moans. d’you have any idea how much i’ve thought about this? f- fuck, if you come to me crying again, i’m not gonna go so easy on you.”

if he had an ounce of self-respect, he’d have stopped you after the first time (he didn’t have the discipline to deny you completely), but something about him stirred at the unpredictable predictability of it all. he knew that at least once a week, you’d come crying to him over something your asshole boyfriend did to you, it was just a matter of what day of the week. 

he liked when you came over on friday nights most, because more often than not you’d stay the night, sometimes the weekend, making the excuse to your boyfriend that you were sleeping over at a girlfriend or your mother’s house. but really you were just spending the whole weekend getting fucked by your recovery boyfriend patrick, who would scrape up the little money he had to order food from your favorite thai restaurant every night and watch what were, in his opinion, the most insipid movies he’d ever seen — because he knew that less than halfway through you’d be split open on his cock, sobbing with pleasure into his shoulder as princess diaries became a distant echo in the background. his hand on the small of your back, his vision glazing over as he stares ahead at the tv, too enraptured by the sweet whimpers you make while you’re (attempting to) ride him, the sounds of your slick pussy swallowing him whole in slow intervals, panting and gasping as he speared you open because he was: “so big, patrick you’re so big.”

he’ll snap out of it then, find his hands wrapped around your waist and his lips buried in the crook of your neck,

“it’s okay, baby. you can take me.”

“i’m trying,” you wailed, the frustration so clear in your voice that it almost made him laugh. 

instead, he wrapped his hands around your waist firmly, leading you down onto his cock himself. 

“fuck!” you shouted out, practically collapsing forward onto him. “patrick, please—”

“if you can come to me crying just to get dick, you can take it.”

you gasped at the directness of his words, punching yourself for how much it turned you on. and he knew it too, by the way your pussy throbbed around his dick. you couldn’t see his face, but you could practically hear the shit-eating smirk in his voice as he grabbed your asscheek,

“yeah, your pussy loves it though. and you love being my little slut behind closed doors when your boyfriend isn’t acting right.”

you couldn’t control the moan that tumbled out of your lips when he said that, and definitely not the screech you let out when he started to thrust up, jackhammering into you so his cock reached the hilt. 

“that what you wanted?”

“yes, yes!” you wailed, nodding desperately, positively wrecked as your head practically hung over his shoulder, enveloped in a world of pleasure. 

“yeah… i know…”

and sometimes he won't be so nice. he'll be damn near using your pussy like a fleshlight, his body practically covering yours as he fucks you like an animal, hard and fast and rough, your pussy squelching around his cock each time he rams it into you. he'll use you like he's the one that needs comforting, like your pussy is the only safe haven he knows. and it's only fair, the way you hide out in his house and act like his dick is your life source. he fucks you like he's an athlete and this is his sport, tennis be damned. he'll degrade you anyway he knows how — because he knows you love it, knows it makes you finish two times as fast.

"he doesn't fuck you like this."

"you're such a fucking slut. come over here crying acting like you don't pull up just to get fucked." he'll laugh as he says this, and you want to smack his chest in indignation, but you can't manage anything but moans.

“you’re such a good girl. letting me use this pussy when i want.”

"there you go, squeeze my cock like it's yours."

"pussy's so greedy, getting fucked by the both of us. still so fucking tight."

"your boyfriend's probably wondering where you are." this has made you come twice now.

"whose pussy is it?" (and even though you have a man, you tell him it's his every time. sometimes he doesn't even need to ask, sometimes he fucks you so good that you just scream out: "it's your pussy — it's your pussy, daddy", and he'll chuckle and say: "i know.").

and you let him say these things and more, because he fucks you like no one ever has, like he knows something you told him in complete and total secrecy. like it's something so complex — but all it ever takes is one touch.

your friends have noticed something is different between you two, but it's honestly not a big jump from before — only this time, you guys sealed the deal and were actually fucking now. of course, patrick can't keep his mouth closed for long and ends up bragging to art, and you tell tashi because she's one of the girls, and now there's this unspoken understand between all of you. but no one feels the need to intervene, because honestly... it makes sense.

and you’ll have a conversation with him every other time, telling him “we have to stop doing this.” and one day he replies, 

“yn. not to be a dick or anything, but you’re the one who calls me. you act like you're coming over for comfort, but we both know it's my dick doing all the comforting."

and you know it’s true, you know patrick is right even if he is an asshole. but you won’t let that stop you from texting him: thai food and a movie? everytime your boyfriend fucks up. and patrick won't stop you either.

[johnwickb1tsch]

gif by ficsnroses

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 43 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

43.  surprise

A week later John interrupts you in your studio, looking unfairly edible in old jeans and a white henley, wiping his hands with a greasy rag. By his little smile, you can tell he was watching you for a while, before purposely alerting you of his presence. 

You don’t mind the interruption. You were just playing around, not feeling particularly inspired, just doodling. It’s funny, how contentment can kill your driving need to make your mark on a canvas, as though you’ve made some devil’s bargain with your muse.  

“I have a surprise for you.” 

“Baaaabe…” It still makes you a little uncomfortable. All the gifts. He presented you with a new phone the other day, programmed with your old number no less, and you are still feeling guilty for some reason, even though he destroyed your last one. Aside from the photos, and the occasional texts with your friends who are usually too busy for you anyway…you hadn’t really missed the device. 

You asked if he would like for you to go back to work, feeling like a freeloader–and he laughed at you before kissing you silly, and walking out of the room. 

You’d called your mother to check in, and found out she didn’t even realize you were gone longer than you were supposed to be in Italy. Your youngest half-sibling was crying for something on the other end of the line, and she had to let you go after barely saying hello. 

You’re not really sure why you even try, anymore, but it left you feeling slightly less sad than usual after talking with her. At least, you’re not alone anymore. You have someone in your life who thinks you irreplaceable. You feel how precious that is, more than ever. 

“I think you’re really going to like this one. I’m going to like it too. Come on.” 

You sidle up to him, not moving half as quickly as he’d like. You can tell by the way he narrows his eyes down at you, those plush lips pulled in a half-smile. Truth be told…the way this simple white shirt fits across his chest does unmentionable things to you, and you’re not sure you’re in a hurry to go anywhere. 

“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re not getting your surprise today,” he playfully threatens. 

“I have everything I need right here,” you assure him, running hands over his pecs, completely distracted. He catches your mouth with a groan, strong hands digging into your waist hard enough to bruise. 

“I’m going to sling you over my shoulder in five seconds if you don’t come downstairs with me.” 

“No!” you giggle, nipping him on the lip and running out the door. He chases you, and you laugh as you sprint down the hall, adrenaline and too much joy to stand singing through your veins. You feel like your heart literally might burst. 

He doesn’t catch you until you are down the stairs and halfway across the living room, grabbing you up in his strong arms, bending you over backwards with the fury of his kiss. He grins like a wolf between nipping at your tender flesh, and suddenly you find yourself on the floor, sinking into the plush new area rug with his solid weight on top of you.

“Hey, what about my surprise?” you goad him, laughing as he seems to attempt to bite through your bra strap under your shirt.

“I have a different surprise for you now, kitten,” he growls, unbuttoning your jeans. Your mirth quickly turns to moans, as his long fingers find your wet center, swiping up your juices and circling your clit.

As surprises go–this wasn’t bad at all.

***

You make it to the garage–eventually.

He blindfolded you with a clean dish towel, because it was on hand after the two of you staggered drunkenly like lovesick idiots to the kitchen for a drink of water, after christening John’s new rug. Soft. Good cushion. 10/10. Imagining giving this review to Charlie’s tough-looking clean up crew makes you almost choke on an ice cube.

“John!” you complain when you bang your toe on something. A tool box? Your legs still feel like spaghetti. 

“Sorry,” he chortles, not sorry at all, but trying to lead you with more care with arms on your shoulders. You take little steps, trying to track where you are in the garage, but your brain isn’t really functioning yet. 

“Hold out your hands.” 

You do so, extending them in front of you, groping through the air. Your fingertips brush something rubbery. And…some metal tubing. Your other hand finds the cool curve of…a gas tank. “Are you taking me for a ride?” you ask excitedly, caressing the contours of the leather seat.

“I thought I just did?” 

“Pfft,” you tease. “On wheels. I missed the motorcycle.”  

“That’s good news. Because you’ve got your own now.”

What? 

Now you can’t stop yourself from tearing off the blindfold, finding a sleek beetle-black machine before you. It’s smaller, definitely not John’s bike–but it’s cool. 

“It’s a Kawasaki. Just 400cc’s,” he tells you, patting the seat. “Perfect starter bike. When you get the hang of it we’ll get you something with more kick.” 

The significance of this particular offering does not escape you. That he would offer you the means of transporting yourself independently speaks of this newborn trust between you–and it means the world to you. He only staggers a little when you suddenly throw your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When do we start?”

“You’ll have to get your learner’s permit. But I’ll take you to the empty parking lot in town right now, if you want to start learning how to shift.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” His polished ebony eyes are absolutely shining, and you don’t know how it’s possible, that every time you think you couldn’t be happier, this man raises the bar again. 

How far the two of you have come.  

“One question.”

“Hmm?”

“Where does the samurai sword go?”

[johaerys-writes]

Ch. 6: now i'm ashamed

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

They arrive at their new hotel a little before noon. It’s one of those bland and boring airport hotels with no colour or personality, but a slightly fancier version of that because, of course, Achilles wouldn’t stay in a hotel sporting anything less than four stars. A bellhop is already waiting for them by the time their cab pulls up in front of the entrance to help them out of the car and carry their bags out of the trunk. 

It is the least of Patroclus’ problems, but it rankles that Achilles booked a suite with a double bed without even asking him first. Not that Patroclus really expected him to, but it still bothers him. Despite everything that’s happened between them in the past few days, Achilles has no right to pretend that they’re a couple. No matter how fun it was at first, it was extremely unwise and very irresponsible, and whatever spell Achilles has cast on him has thoroughly been broken now. None of the excitement of their illicit adventure remains. It feels wrong and dirty for them to continue this play-pretend; Patroclus wants none of it. 

The room is as bland and colourless as the rest of the hotel: there’s a beige cover on the bed and the furniture is also beige, and there’s a painting in beige tones above the bed. The bed itself, at least, is big and looks comfortable, and the tub in the bathroom has a hydromassage setting and is big enough for three people, let alone two.

Not that Patroclus will be using that, no matter how badly he may want to. He’s got a lot of work to do, and besides that, even if he does use it, it won’t be with Achilles. And he doesn’t care a fig how much Achilles grumbles and pouts about it. Patroclus is done catering to Achilles’ each and every whim. 

“This rug is awful,” Achilles complains, kicking off his shoes and putting on the disposable slippers that housekeeping left for them. “It’s so ugly, and the texture? It’d feel better if I were walking on packed straw. For the kind of money they’re charging, it is unacceptable to be greeted with this eyesore. I should lodge a complaint with the hotel’s interior designer.” 

“Knock yourself out,” Patroclus mutters irritably, pulling out the desk chair. He takes his laptop out of its case and connects to the wifi, steeling himself for the mountain of emails he’ll have to go through today. It’s close to the end of the workday in Greece, but a few of his team are still there, working on a new client project, so there will a lot for him to review before closing for the evening. Just because he’ll be arriving in Greece later than he’d thought doesn’t mean he can put off doing his work until then. He’s done more than enough of that in the past week; he absolutely cannot shirk his responsibilities any longer, not for Achilles or anything else. 

Peleus’ name flashes on his phone screen as soon as he switches it on, wishing them a safe flight and asking Patroclus to contact him as soon as they stop at Qatar for their connecting flight. Patroclus shudders when he is reminded that he still hasn’t come up with a good enough lie to justify the extension of their trip to Peleus. He doesn’t think there’s any excuse that would be believable enough to explain this whole mess.

He jolts a little when Achilles leans over him, his arms coming around Patroclus’ shoulders from behind. 

“Why don’t you come and take a bath with me, hm?” he whispers, lips caressing his ear. “We could relax, have a cocktail… Continue where we left off.” 

A flash of rage blinds Patroclus for a moment. He shrugs Achilles off, staring resolutely at his laptop screen.

“Get away from me,” he growls warningly. “I’m busy.” 

“Well, you don’t have to be,” Achilles tells him, a little miffed. “We won’t be going back home for another week, at least. Technically, you’re still on holiday.” 

“A week?” Patroclus turns around to pin him with a glare. “We’re leaving, Achilles. Tomorrow.”

Achilles purses his lips in a pout. “Five days.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fine, four days. And a half.” 

“I’m not bargaining with you! We’re leaving tomorrow and that’s final. I’m booking the tickets right now.” 

“No, you’re not.”

“Watch me,” Patroclus says, turning back to his laptop and pulling up a flight booking page.  

Achilles’ hand shoots over his shoulder, but Patroclus catches his wrist on reflex; there’s a brief struggle where they both try to get their hands on Patroclus’ laptop, and Patroclus seems to be winning until Achilles basically climbs over his lap and onto the desk, slamming the laptop screen shut and sitting half-way on top of it. 

“Get off, you’ll ruin it!” Patroclus shouts, trying to catch Achilles’ legs and pull him off the desk, while Achilles kicks at him and clings onto the desk for dear life. It is all so comical and ridiculous that Patroclus is glad no one is around to see them right now. He throws his hands up with an angry huff. 

“Achilles, you fucking asshole—” He takes a step back and glares at him, sweating beneath his suit. He tries not to worry about Achilles’ weight that’s currently probably crushing his poor laptop as he says, “You’re like a child. You know that? A stubborn, arrogant, spoiled brat. Things always have to go your way, otherwise you’ll throw a fit and make it everyone's problem. I’m done with you, you hear me? I’m done with your bullshit. Done.”

“You weren’t done with me when you were doing me this morning,” Achilles retorts haughtily, tilting his chin up in defiance, and Patroclus has to use every ounce of willpower he possesses not to walk over to the desk and strangle him.  

“I'm never going to be doing you again after all this,” he says through gritted teeth. “Believe you me.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[pickledpascal]

Hold Me Like Water

Chapter Seven: Fragile

Warnings: 2020 whump aka the virus, emotional talks, relationship in decline

Word Count: 2.2k

Hold Me Like Water Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

August 2020,

Quarantine was in full force. Thankfully, Maya was locked down with her family up in Canada. They knew to give her space but also when to give her things to do. However, she has been able to get some work done. Mostly voice roles. She’d lock herself in her room and record voice lines on her phone. 

Other than that, it’s felt a little like her childhood again. Lots and lots of throwing snowballs at Sakari. They could go outside, their neighbors were half a mile away so they were a safe distance away. Maya’s father, Nick, has been teaching her to carve wood and antler so she’s been keeping herself busy with practicing that too. 

The bad thing about being cooped up for so long is that she couldn’t see Hugh. Not in person. They would video call every so often. About once a week to check in with each other. Arlo would call too, with updates about films she was supposed to be filming for and to ask how she was doing. It was nice to know her agent cared about her well-being on top of her career. Though, Arlo was her friend first before they became her agent. 

“So when are we going to meet Hugh?” Nick asked while cooking down some berries for a jam, stirring lightly.

Maya was helping her mother and Sakari put a previous batch of jam in jars. They were going to deliver them later to their neighbors. “I don’t know. He wants to visit but, obviously, he can’t right now.” She shrugged, screwing a lid closed as tightly as possible. 

“Still can’t believe he worked with Baz Luhrmann. Australia was horrible.” Maya’s mother, Bea, sighed as she shook her head.

Since Maya had the time, she was going through Hugh’s filmography because she realized she hadn’t seen that much of his work beside the X-Men films and a handful of others. Seeing as she was staying with her parents, she invited them to watch his movies with her. Some were better than others. 

They all had a lot of thoughts about the bad ones in particular. It had nothing to do with Hugh ever, his performance was always good no matter what. Knowing him, though, Maya would never repeat any of these things to his face. He didn’t like reading reviews, even if they were good ones. 

Sakari piped up, “I can. They’re both Australian. Aussies love working with Aussies as I’m sure Maya would love working with an Inuit,” She poured jam in a jar while Maya nodded. “What I can’t get over is Nicole Kidman’s performance. So over the top.”

“Because it’s a Baz Luhrmann movie.” Maya added. She glanced back at where her father was on the stove. 

“Still! She just—” Sakari recreated a few of her exaggerated huffs and moans. She wasn’t looking and nearly dropped one of the jars. Maya caught it so it didn’t shatter on the floor. “Oops, sorry.” She laughed. 

Maya nudged Sakari's shoulder with hers and laughed softly. “Be a bit more careful, hm?” She winked. She looked over Nick's shoulder to check how the berries were doing.

After all the jars were filled and capped, they each delivered a few to their neighbors. They saved a few for themselves as well. Maya set two jars on a porch, they clinked together slightly as she put them down. She knocked on the door and then pressed on the doorbell before she left to do the same thing to the next neighbor. She had a bag full of jars as did Bea and Sakari.

When she finally came back home, her father had started a fire. She went up to him and kissed his cheek in thanks as she removed her beanie. She sat in front of the fireplace on the rug and warmed her hands. 

“Is it just me or is it colder?” Sakari let out a puff of air when she walked through the door. 

Bea rolled her eyes as she prepared some hot tea. “You're just used to New York winters now.” 

“Oh, god, I'm turning white.” Sakari said in a fake-scared tone. “Next thing you know, my favorite food is gonna be poutine!” Maya laughed, shaking her head at her sister's antics.

After they all warmed up again, Maya went to her room and shed her jacket. She sipped on her tea, checking the time in Australia. It would be morning down there. She pursed her lips as she sat at her desk. Maybe it was too early in the morning for her to call Hugh? He was probably just waking up. She always had this debate in her head. 

She set her phone down on the surface in front of her and then separated her hair to braid it. Even if it was her own hands, getting her hair braided always made her relax. Once she put her hair into two braids, she pushed them so they fell against her shoulders and took another sip of her tea. 

She always called him anyway. If he didn't answer, he would always call back when he could. She just didn't want to bother him. Especially now with everything happening… Maybe he wanted to spend more time with his family and this was the only way he could do it. Maybe he wanted some peace and quiet away from the job. Maybe he wanted the world to stop caring about him for a while. Maya wasn't sure. These were strange times. 

She set up her phone against some books as she pressed the call button. She brought her knees up to her chest, feet planted in the chair. 

Hugh answered after a few rings, a light, tired smile on his face. He was in the office. It was the only private place in his house, away from his kids and Deb. “G’morning, or, uh, afternoon.” He chuckled. “I almost didn't think you were gonna call today.” 

“Well, since we've been home, my dad has been putting us to work,” Maya shrugged, taking another sip of her tea. “Today we delivered homemade jam around the village.” 

Hugh sighed wistfully. “That sounds delicious.” He grabbed a mug, taking a sip from it. Presumably coffee.

“You have anything planned today?” Maya asked. She set her mug down and hugged one of her legs to her chest. 

“I want to read one of the books you recommended me. The poetry book by Natalie Diaz,” Hugh ran a hand through his hair, “But, I don’t know—Deb always does something. She hates doing nothing. And, well, I like doing nothing.” He chuckled dryly. 

Maya frowned slightly, pursing her lips. Hugh thought he was boring because he always compared himself to Deb and the fact that she could ‘have fun in a paper bag’ as he’d say. “You just have lower energy when you’re in private and she has higher energy. I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She reasoned gently. 

“Yeah but it was fun at the beginning of all this, now it’s just a bit too tiring.” Hugh ran a hand up his face, letting out a breath. 

Maya had never seen Hugh so—sad wasn’t the right word. Upset? Tired? No, he was exhausted. “Look, this won’t last forever. It’s just because you’re trapped together. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, most people haven’t. It’ll get better once this all goes away. You just have to wait it out.” She sympathized with him.

Although Hugh loved Deb deeply and tried to bring her nearly everywhere he went, he was as free as a bird. He’d fly from place to place and be totally fine with performing the next day. Under quarantine laws, he was caged and he hated it. He had nothing to keep himself busy. Nothing quite satisfied him like acting. 

Seeing him more vulnerable was a sight, though. To Maya, even when he talked about his feelings or heavier topics, he seemed so put together and like he knew what he wanted to say and the exact way he was going to say it. Now, he stumbled over his words.

She was glad he trusted her with this—his grievances, his worries, his hopes, what was in his brain and what was in his heart. She wasn’t sure if he relayed all this to Ryan but it still made her feel like she was important in Hugh’s life.

“I hope you’re right.” He murmured, glancing down at something off-screen before he focused on Maya again. A soft, genuine smile appeared on his lips when he looked at her. “You do anything else today?” 

Maya ran her hand up and down her shin absentmindedly, thinking for a few seconds. “Well, this morning we gathered berries for the jam. It hasn’t snowed here yet so it wasn’t too bad getting enough for the village.” She hummed. 

Nunavut wasn’t as populated as the southern provinces so they could go places without running into people. Her family always brought masks just in case. They were always careful.

“Damn, I wish I could do something like that here.” Hugh laughed softly.

“I’m lucky my village doesn’t fucking care how famous I am. I can’t imagine the amount of pictures that would be taken if you went berry picking down under.” Maya laughed along with him. 

The paps loved Hugh, especially in his home country. They never left him alone. Maya wondered if they secretly put a tracker on him and he just didn’t know. She wouldn’t put it past them. The amount of beach pictures he’s had taken of him… She wondered how they never got tired of it. Hugh was never doing anything scandalous in public unlike some other celebrities. 

He shook his head, “I try not to even focus on that stuff anymore. Pictures are going to be taken of me no matter where I go.” Hugh scratched against his neck.

“I guess, yeah.” Maya pursed her lips into a thin line. 

Even after six years, she was not used to it nearly as much as he was. To be fair, he’d been in the spotlight for a little over twenty years. He had more time to accept a lack of privacy. 

“No new pictures because of quarantine, though.” Maya joked softly. “A win is a win.” 

Hugh chuckled. “I suppose so. However will the gossip magazines survive?” 

“Who knows and who cares?” Maya hummed, rolling her eyes. 

Maybe her sister was rubbing off on her a little bit. Although they lived together back in New York, Sakari was always out of the apartment doing something. Maya didn’t always ask. So now that they were forced to be inside, she might’ve been picking up a few things from Sakari’s personality. 

Maya and Hugh talked until the sun went down. She filled him in on the week she had since they last called and he did the same, though he was much more interested in hearing her talk about herself. 

“You really do have a beautiful voice.” Hugh hummed as he pressed his face against his hand. His coffee had gone cold. Her tea did too. 

Maya flushed slightly at the compliment. “Well, I—Thanks.”

“Oscar was playing whatever game you’re in—”

“God of War?” 

“Yes! I was listening to the game and you really do have the voice of a goddess. It has an ethereal quality to it. It’s so soothing yet you can make it cut like a knife.” Hugh scratched at his eyebrow as he leaned back into his chair. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Maya shrugged, “Blame the voice coach.”

“I wish you would take credit for something for once.” Hugh pushed softly. 

“I wish you would too.” Maya pushed back, “You really hate taking compliments.” 

Hugh chuckled nervously, knowing he was caught. Compliments always made him shy as well. Much like her, he believed filmmaking was a group effort. Even if he gave a stellar performance, it was on the cinematographer to frame it correctly, on the editor to make sure they could hear his dialogue, all these little things that came together which could make him stand out. 

Maya looked out the window, realizing it was dark. “Anyway, I think I’ve talked your ear off for today.” 

“You know I always have time for you, darling.” Hugh said sincerely. 

“Mm, maybe but it’s night now.” Maya chuckled. “And I’d like to get some sleep.”

Hugh breathed then nodded. “That’s a good excuse.” Sometimes he forgot they were sixteen hours away. He blew a kiss to the camera. “Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Maya waved before she ended the call. 

She ran a hand up her face, rubbing at her eyes. Without Hugh in front of her, she could feel the tiredness seep into her all the sudden. She changed for bed and got under the covers. 

She really hoped everything would work out for Hugh. He seemed so terminally exhausted that it made her heart ache…

[murumokirby360]

My first ever Android Smartphone - Busted (Cherry Mobile Jelly) [feat. my Paper Dolls]

DeviantART version → [CLICK ME!]

Hello, August... 🏫🎒 It's been a rough and depressing month for me from nothing to earn funds for myself, to struggling with my life staying at home. 😟😞 Although I do occasionally go outside to get some fresh air when the sun is bright, it remains the same. 😔 I'm still stuck on my mom's slow-performance laptop, and I can't make item reviews because of the aforementioned laptop. 👩💻 Meanwhile, I'm still browsing some job openings, though the only problem was the "lack of trustworthy". I did apply once and I was going to go anyway, however, my mom investigated the details of where the venue at for a schedule, and it turns out that the job that I applied for was a sham... Yeah, I dodged the bullet on going there owning to my flashbacks of what happened in 2019. *Sigh* So much for that... 😟 I wish this type of fraud job would be ended by the time the government and authorities caught red-handed on fake application jobs. Right now, I've already applied for a job by submitting a resume to legit hiring via email, and to this day nobody answered my call. I'm still a helper for my parents' small rug business, although they didn't give me a raise, but small treats and food. Also, I'm selling my scrap computer parts, unfortunately, nobody seemed to be interested in my items... Bummer. 😔

[I want a end my life... But, I refused to kill myself. Not yet... 😟😞]

Should I keep posting and sharing my items on tumblr? 🤔 I'm still thinking about it, but for now this could be my last item... As we hit the first "Ber" month (September 📆), I need to take a break from posting it until my custom PC desktop brought back to life with a brand new GPU Card. 🖥️🔧

Anyway, let's head back to my last item (before I go *semi* hiatus):

• What I have here is my first ever cheap Android Smartphone after I graduated from vocational college [Computer Programing] in 2014. 👨‍🎓🏫💻 This here is the "Cherry Mobile Jelly". 🤖📱 Actually, it's now simply called "Cherry" which we'll get to that later. Nonetheless, I bought this cheap and small smartphone for ₱ 2,299 💵 from a local trustworthy cellular phone store at the mall, I should it picked the blue color because I loved that color for life 💙, although it is out of stock so I guess I'll settle with green anyway. 🟩📱🤷‍♀️ (After all, green signifies an android phone, right? 🟩🤖📲 Nonetheless...) As for the specs of this phone, it is pretty low-profile standard considering that this is a budget-friendly smartphone. Here, go see it by click here → [CLICK ME! #1]. Unfortunately, as you can see, my first cheap smartphone ended in 2015 due to poor quality, as I accidentally fell off my phone numerous times causing it to crack the touch screen (not to mention, the battery phone had bloated.), and my Jelly phone ended its life. It was only a matter of time before my old phone was replaced by the outdated "Samsung Galaxy S Duos 2" [GT-S7582] (which was also decommissioned somewhere in 2019). As for the so-called "Cherry" brand, they're still producing smartphones albeit a small ranges because they've already expanded to daily electronic appliances (e.g. slim smart TV, washing machine, air purifier, etc...). Pls, click here to see → [CLICK ME! #2]. One more thing, the only feature really I missed from using the old Cherry Mobile Jelly is the ability to watch TV by raising the mini antenna and opening the TV app, as you've seen on my snapshot. 📺📲😊

• When it comes to comparison with my current Tecno Spark 20 Pro [CLICK ME!] smartphone, well... You noticed the BIG difference. 📱📲 To be honest, I missed holding a small Android smartphone, as holding it could be a very advantage (which is like holding an old MP4 player) over a tall and bulky smartphone, like my aforementioned Tecno mobile brand. 😊 And surprisingly, they're still producing small smartphones albeit in ✌"Made in China"✌ and they're using a vanilla yet recent Android Operating System, unlike Samsung, Huawei, Oppo, Xiaomi, and other giant smartphone brands with their state-of-the-art features and current running Android OS. Maybe someday I'll get my hands on the small Android phone for a nostalgic sake? Who knows? 🤷‍♀️ For now, though, I guess I'll stick with the taller smartphones. And as for my first ever owned cheap Android phone, it's already a relic of its time. Time for you to return to the memorabilia box. 🙂

Well, that's all for now. If you want to see my previous topic, then please → [CLICK ME!].

Tagged: @bryan360, @shadowredfeline, @leapant, @lordromulus90, @coda-archive, @sammirthebear2k4, @alexander1301

[androidaddictsx]

Oukitel WP33 Pro Review - Rugged, 5G, eSIM, Night Vision, 22,000mAh

Oukitel have just released the WP33 Pro which is their latest rugged phone which packs in 5G, a 5W 8D speaker, Night Vision and a 22,000mAh battery! Let's put it through some tests and see how it fairs!

Oukitel have just released the WP33 Pro which is their latest rugged phone which packs in 5G, a 5W 8D speaker, Night Vision and a 22,000mAh battery! Let’s put it through some tests and see how it fairs! 00:00 Intro00:28 Unboxing01:17 Specifications03:28 Phone Design05:08 Speaker Volume Test05:44 Side Key06:29 Day Video07:29 Camera Photos07:53 Night Video08:08 Benchmarks08:22 New State…

[tervaneula]

Okay i got an emil notification about your NQK update before your tumblr post?! Now that surprised me!

It's like 1 AM and i don't think leo is the only one with Insomnia - ngl i felt that am getting called out 😂 - So we start and i think because it's been a long time friend the previous NQK chapter i really forgot that F!Donnie is now " Donatello " whil F!Mikey js "Michaelangelo" and brain was flipping between "huh? Is that the youngest or the eldest?!"

So we start right off with with F!Dee getting jealous and boy oh boy i believe little ol' Donnie will find this exciting and more of a "parent figure approval" 😂

The talk goes to the bandana and i kid you not i remembered previous fics where some F!Leo/s had either put the other masks as a nice accessory ir put it on his sword and just hung it there as a memory (forgot the fic).

So this makes me think of "How F!Leo would make of the bandanas AFTER he make peace with decades of war?" It really makes me excited thinking about it 🤩

Also it made me think - don't know if i asked before but - does F!Leo still can open his portals and travel? (I know in other fic he can but what about the Canon fic NQK?).

It's kinda sad how Leo's still holding on to the masks but still understandable because well... It's been decades of WAR! That can't be just brushed under the rug with a nice few months in the lair. So until F!Leo finally decided when he can " move on " he deserves to keep the masks with him...

F!Leo hugging ghost!F!Dee was so sad and somewhat... Bittersweet? Because he's glad he can see/talk and almost hug his twin but that's about it, he wants to be greedy and have the two of them, april, his dad back home but that would be too much (And am sure he would be worried about 'Don't push your luck' type of quote or he may lose everything).

But AHHHHHHHHH AM SCREAMING FOR THE ART PIECE YOU MADE! SURE IT'S SAD BUT THE COLORS AND ART STYLE IS REALLY WARMING ME UP AS IF IT'S - again - A BLANKET!! I LOVE THIS FEELING 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Then que F!Mikey entering the chat (lmao ngl thought that was little mikey) and took a pic lol!! I don't know if he can take picture of ghosts but imagine if you can use mystic power or ninpo to see ghosts in the picture?! That would be awesome, F!Dee & F!Raph would mess with so many people.

And then here comes Dracum entering the chat 🐐😂 MF i can imagine him entering the room with sandal in hand ready to beat F!Mikey up especially after hearing "I used it to lift a blanket up" 😂😂😂

But it was so surprising to me when be gave him a "therapist" card, from the color purple i thought it was from either Donnie or 🤢 Big mama 🤢

But god i love a soft carrying dad draxum like my next door neighbour! Always welcomed 🩷

That's all for my review for the chapter! It was such a great treat since it's been a while! Am still gonna keep my eyes - and phone - open for any updates because LORD I LOVE NQK🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

LMAO YEAH that's because I really wanted to publish the chapter that day but was already crashing when I posted it, so couldn't make a Tumblr post until the next day 😂

Hehe we'll see what Leonardo will do with the masks! First of all, wash them, probably :D He has a weird relationship with all of his keepsakes, re: the Raph-like prosthetic arm. He doesn't want to get rid of them but seeing them also still hurts, despite everything :')

Yes NQK Leonardo can use his portals!! He just hasn't had a reason to do that in the main fic (yet 😎)

God. Fug. Dang dude. "Don't push your luck or you may lose everything" legitimately made me tear up. That whole paragraph contributed, actually. "HE WANTS TO BE GREEDY" like ajkhjdsfhj how dare you (/aff) hit me with an emotional bomb like this all of a sudden. He does. He wants all of his family, he doesn't think it's fair that only three of them survived, and this brings us back to the enormous guilt he feels for not being able to save everyone.

Donatello is there with him, not in flesh but literally in spirit, he can be hugged and talked to, but Leonardo wants him to live. It's so freaking heartbreaking. I as the author have the power to bring him his family back, in flesh and blood and bone, but like I said ages ago, that's not what NQK is about. It's about accepting loss and healing and finding happiness, and about family and love. They can't change the past any more than what they've already been graciously given, the only way is forward. ;_;

BUT THANK YOUUU for liking the drawing, it makes me go 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 so bad jdfhj (and to make it worse, I made a different version which I'll post here later)

Ninpo ghosts show up in photos normally!! At least in NQK universe they do 😂 Too bad for Donatello, can't do all the crime if he can be caught in 4K

Soft caring dad Draxum ftw<333

THE THERAPIST CARD. Oh my gosh Draxum does NOT trust Big Mama one bit, rest assured, and Donnie has no such connections. No, the light purple colour is actually referencing... drum roll... THIS GUY

Yes Tev is now a yokai and a part of NQK universe but no, she won't show up in the fic so no worries about me actually bringing in non-canon characters. "Leonardo Goes To Therapy" is not a chapter I want to write, nor sprinkle in the appointments in detail, so it all happens off-screen 😂

Thank you SO SO SO MUCH again for reading and spending your precious time writing this comment!!!! It made me so happy but I'm a little sorry that this reply got so long and rambly XD ANYWAY ILYSM

[noobettes-little-box]

yay a green flavored block tales review yippee

Chapter twooo!!!

again summary and review under the cut thing

oh yeah btw if you intend on playing this game and haven't already but still want the review just scroll all the way to the bottom please this chapter is a lot better going in mostly blind! i can't skip over most of the spoilers in this chapter in the Summary, because that would leave out important plot details!

(idk why you haven't played it yet it's free roblox and block tales both and it runs on phones, laptops, ps4, ps5, several types of xbox, there's really no reason to not play)

Summary

technically chapter 2 hasn't started yet but uh

don't care

right after chaper 1 terry appears and tells you about fast travel and that shedletsky wants to see you. yea shedletsky isn't dead after being beaten up by children (the children didn't actually do it)

upon entering the room where shedletsky is you find he's in a wheel chair and he asks if you found the ice dagger

he then tells you how to use it and stuff

he then says to go to plains town and stuff to visit the mayor of turitopulis and get the venom shank, and there should be a plane in the bizville airport

the plane turns out to be Terry's and he accuses you or burglary, but still flies you out anyways, which starts the chapter fully

shortly after landing you meet kyoko

best character in the game i love her

she asks if you're willing to adventure with her

either response ends the same with you continuing anyways

continuing on you find an ant hill, which you are required to shrink to enter

the ants ask you to stay shrunk for the entire time you're there, and you can't unshrink while there even if you try hard you just can't and so you're shrunk and small in battle and stuff

going through yo eventually find a rock and help the rock look at the ceiling so you can leave the ant hill

going further you're going to find turitopulis, where the venom shank guardian lives

upon arriving you meet kyoko again, and then the mayor starts getting kidnapped but i didn't take a screenshot of that

here we meet the most popular character in blocktales so far, a teenager with a crowbar. truly the best of character design. (sarcasm)

anyways he's kidnapping the mayor!!! the guy shedletsky told us to visit!!! because the voices in his head told him too!!! oh no!!!!!

one illegal jeep ride and possible account of vehicular manslaughter later, you arrive in the rugged rain forest!

walking a bit further we see griefer yelling at thaniyel for something, but he talked about the voices that the king talked about so he's probably just having an episode.

anyways he summons bombable rocks

upon destroying them a komodo dragon attacks!!! oh no!!!!!

after defeating her we realize she's a polite lady with manners and this was all just a big misunderstanding!

to apologize, she gives us some sick new jordans yooooo!!!!!

we then meet terry and his brother jerry!!!

or as i like to call him

the skcrunkly

the scringily dingily

the bouncy boyo

the squishy

little man

i love jerry if you can't tell

jerry explains how to use rocket boots and we go on our way! how fun!

a little later and- oh god the teenager is back ew i hate teens (i am a teen)

he reveals thaniyel is his dad, and that he's still having his little episode how fun

oh yeah also his name is brad

we fight him now and absolutely kick his asss!!!!!

but we can't go follow him after he runs because there's dense vegetation in the way!!!

so we press on until we find

we find a more powerful sword! yay!!

then this guy steals it because uh

so remember that "...possible account of vehicular manslaughter later..." this is him that's why he hates you

anyways you follow him and knock him out of a tree and he starts fighting you because "JEEP HURTED. NOW ME HURT YOU"

one crypted hunt later

you got the sword but for real now and can go back to chasing griefer and his dad!

you follow them to the sacred hollow, a tree, that has been hollowed out and has a bunch of silly wood people living inside!!!

you also get this cool view of the tree when you first get here

scaling the tree you get to griefer's crib!!! yay!!!!!!

after committing breaking and entering, it turns out he is still having the episode and after forcing his dad to pull a weapon out of a rock, is now letting the intrusive thoughts tell him to kill you. that's rude >:(

after beating him up he decides whatever he's doing isn't worth it and so he stabs himself with the venomshank and becomes a plant, something his dad doesn't like, for obvious reasons.

anyways

one dose of weed killer later and he's defeated.

thaniyel says that he was warned about builderman by shedletsky, but didn't know this would happen. he says brad is still alive, and that this is reversible and thanks us for helping him. he wishes we could stay, but he, probably obviously, wants some alone time. he tells us to take the venomshank as far away from them as possible, so we do and..

before the review i just wanna say the sad music being interrupted with the victory "DOO-DOOOOO!!!!" upon grabbing the sword is very very funny honestly like the tone shift from "oh god i just watched my son nearly die" to "YAY I GOT THE MAGIC SWORD HOORAYY!!!!!!! :)" is so funny to me i couldn't stop laughing my first play through.

ok

REVIEW

chapter 2 has a lot more going on than chapter one, and that is to its benefit. at first it might seem a little slow with the ant hill and plains town, but once you get to turitopulis it gets good and starts moving fast. none of the blockades feel like they're there just to be there like spiky kill bot or the knight blockade. when people say block tales is amazing this is probably the chapter that is mostly gonna make you agree.

it gets 9/10 i'm not rating the rest of these i just don't know what more to say

i might have less to say about chapter 3 we'll see.

[kiwitaskmaster]

Episode review of Taskmaster New Zealand, Season 1, Epsiode 8

— Spoilers!! —

> ‘My partner in crime,, except im more his superior, than a partner, and we dont do any crimes.’ just for a second i thouhgt you MIGHT be being nice to him 

> Unintential weird bits are my usual interactions dont worry paul 

> SATANS BUTT PLUG HELP MEEE I FORGOT ABOUT THAT

> Guy why are you wearing sliders 

> Lovely pictures of a flood! Id treasure that!

> ‘It may appear like something i just found in the car!’ What like your other ones havent been?

> ‘Did you prepare for these tasks.. At all?’ I doubt he did. I doubt it

> NUDES.

> Oh not that kind of nudes

> Nearly spilled my coffee omfg ‘The nudes were great!’ ‘Thats the first time ive heard that.’

> I think I would of had to call my sibling for this task bc i dont speak to ANY of my primary school friends anymore

> Shame Guy didnt make that realisation..

> Byrnley didnt get ‘love you’ back :(( personally id riot

> Oh god he pulled out the ‘peoples champ’ again 

> Angella’s is SO cute omg her immediate thought is to call her mum thats ADorable

> Leigh has a SIGNIFICANT disadvantage i feel since he’s the oldest

> ‘Oop dont know who that is.’ honestly me looking through my contacts

> I think usually Id probably riot over that extra point but no hes right considering Leigh’s disadvantage the bonus point is probably fair LMAO

> Classic ‘what flavour is this thing’ task 

> ‘Classic kiwi flavours’ i can only imagine.

> SWEATY SOCKS AND DEPRESSION. Stealing that for the title of my next band

> Toilet cleaner dip..

> Mint and cheese.. Chocolate fish. Pineapple lumps (PINE NEEDLES and apple chunks) and hummus 

> Can any Kiwis back this up?

> Brynley KOWS how taskmaster works theres always some stupid little trick somewhere

> Jeremy you’ve undone your good work from earlier i now disagree with you fundamentally

> Was gross though i’ll admit

> Confetee in the task!

> ‘Stop thinking. Go away.’ 

> The unicorn rug outfit is FANtastic omg

> Gollem! 

> Those two commit to the bit SO hard 

> Fish suit, fish poster.. Kiwis have a weird thing with fish.

> Leigh Hart. Not at all surprised actually.

> JIMMY NEESHAN (i dont know who that is)

> Deserved triple five points they committed.. Too hard

> I’d ROCKK this i spent wayy to much time roleplaying when i was younger

> That.. was scarily impressive actually Angella

> Im sure the ‘whickedly talented, Leigh Hart’ thing is a reference bc hes said it multiple times but i have no idea what to

> ‘I like mmmm ass ass assss

> ‘At least you wrote a word.’ slow turn ‘Leigh.’

> XOXO csr

> This would be awful for my self esteem if i didnt get a text 

> So proud of himself for working a phone bless

> Jeremy waiting to receive a text omg i love him hes so nffnnf

> WIN FOR ANGELLA WOOOOOO

[bleakmidwinter00]

Taking Flight

Back to Part 6

Part 7 - Warning: mild mature content.18+ only

Becca adjusted her bag on her shoulder, her strides purposeful as she approached the gate for her flight back to Dublin. The terminal was its usual mix of noise and chaos—boarding announcements crackling over the intercom, the rhythmic clatter of suitcases on tile, snippets of conversation blending into a low hum.

She spotted the gate ahead and let out a small breath of relief. Her crew hadn’t arrived yet, which gave her a few minutes to review her paperwork for the flight. Instinctively, she walked towards a row of seats near the window and pulled the folders from her bag, starting to methodically work through them.

It wasn’t until she sat down, the bag settling at her feet, that she noticed it.

The gate.

The memory hit her all at once—the same rows of chairs, the same distant roar of jet engines outside. Her eyes instinctively drifted across to the seat across from her and her chest tightened.

That was where he’d been sitting.

Cillian.

The image came back to her so clearly it felt like he was still there. She swallowed, her gaze flicking back to the tarmac. It felt surreal, being back here, retracing the steps of a moment that had seemed so ordinary at the time.

She hadn’t known then how much that fleeting exchange would come to mean. How much he would come to mean.

Her mind wandered back to the way his eyes had met hers that day, the way he’d smiled—soft, polite, deliberate.

She’d tried to brush it off, tried to stay focused on her work, but there was something about him that had lingered in her thoughts even then.

And now look where we are, she thought bitterly, shaking her head.

“Captain O’Neill?”

The sound of her title startled her, pulling her abruptly back to the present. She turned to see one of her crew standing nearby, holding a clipboard and looking expectantly at her.

“Hi.” Becca said, her voice steady despite the storm in her chest.

“We’re all set,” the crew member said with a small smile.

“Right,” Becca said, nodding as she stood. She adjusted her uniform, smoothing the fabric as she gathered her things.

Her gaze flicked back to the seat one last time, the memory of Cillian’s face overlapping with the empty chair.

She could still remember the way he’d looked at her when he heard her being called “Captain O’Neill.” The way his expression had shifted, intrigued and maybe even a little impressed. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, the memory carried more weight.

Becca pushed the thoughts aside, straightening her shoulders as she followed her crew to the gate. She had a job to do—a plane to fly, passengers to bring home safely.

But as she walked through the terminal and onto the jet bridge, she couldn’t stop the quiet ache that had settled in her chest.

Because no matter how much distance she tried to put between herself and Cillian, moments like this reminded her that some things were impossible to leave behind.

*****

Back at home, Cillian poured a generous glass of red wine and made his way to his large, comfortable sofa. Setting himself down, he placed the glass on the nearby table and stretched his legs out in front of him, enjoying the warmth from the fire. Max lay outstretched on the soft rug, the gentle snores from him and the crackling of the logs within the flames being the only sounds which echoed around the room. His thoughts wandered as he stared into the flickering orange hues in front of him. He found himself, as he was doing more often than not these days, wondering how Becca was doing. Aoife had told him she was due back that day. He lifted his phone from the arm rest and found his way back to the text exchanges. He’d sent another since the last unanswered message. But that had also gone ignored.

“Be steady. Show her that she doesn’t have to be afraid of you—or of herself.”

Aoife’s words rang in his ears as his fingers hovered over the keyboard. Taking a breath he started typing.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready. However long you need.”

He thought about adding more but decided against it. He had to keep it simple, keep it open and unpressured. Leaning back against the back of the couch, his mind drifted over the last few weeks. He’d enjoyed their time together. It had been unexpected, but welcoming and enjoyable. He hadn’t savoured conversation with a woman for so long. In the lead up to their breakup, he and Niamh had barely spoken to one another. Nothing deep. It had been purely functional. What do you want for dinner?

What will we do this weekend?

Can you pick up toothpaste?

Ironically, the sincerest conversation they’d had in months had come when they were splitting their belongings. Working out who would have what. Moments of reminiscence had leaked into the conversation. He had felt dejected that it had taken for their relationship to get to that breaking point before they opened up.

And then there was Rachel.

Cillian sighed at the thought of her, taking a quick drink of his wine, the warm liquid hitting the back of his throat. Rachel, with her long brown hair which had fit perfectly around his hand as he’d taken her roughly over their hotel bed. Rachel, with her small, delicate hands which had willingly wrapped around his cock whenever he’d asked. Rachel, with her smart tongue which had licked and sucked him to breaking point but had also been the catalyst for their collapse. She’d walked into his life almost by accident a few months prior. She’d sensed his despondency and clung to it, offering him an outlet for his pent-up frustrations having seen his split from Niamh splashed across every media outlet in the country. He’d been honest from the start. He wasn’t looking for anything serious. He’d sworn after his breakup with Niamh that he’d never settle down again. He couldn’t put himself through the heartache again. He thought Rachel had understood that, thought that she’d accepted it was nothing more than a casual thing for him. He’d never invited her to his home, never introduced her to his friends and never mentioned her to his family. He’d been surprised that he’d managed to keep their hook ups out of the press. He arranged to meet her at hotels in Dublin and she’d also come over to London when he was working there. He couldn’t deny it, she’d helped him through a lot of the feelings he hadn’t fully overcome but she wasn’t enough to change his mind. But she started getting clingy, started demanding dinners out in the open. She wanted to accompany him to a premiere in London he was attending and when he’d refused, she’d cracked, throwing things across the room in anger. Accusing him of being ashamed of her, of not wanting to be seen with her. He’d denied it of course, it wasn’t about that. He just didn’t want a serious relationship and didn’t want the bad publicity of a quick hook up to follow him around. The last time he’d seen her had been that night in London before he went to the premiere. He’d remembered seeing the press pictures online the next day. To anyone on the outside, he looked the same way he always did at these things, but he could see the baggage he was carrying, not knowing whether she’d still be at the hotel when he got back. Thankfully, she’d gone. But the note she’d left him made it abundantly clear she wasn’t happy at being cast aside. Her words, not his. He always worried he’d run into her again, but thankfully she’d stayed quiet. He’d even changed his number to avoid her potentially pestering him with calls and messages. He hadn’t even thought about another woman after that until he came across Becca O’Neill.

Becca.

She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t seem to have any expectations of him, didn’t want anything from him. At least, that’s how it felt. She seemed genuine and unfazed by his status or fame. She didn’t ask any questions about it, choosing to discuss their interests instead. Books, music, travel. He’d learned she loved a range of authors from classic English literature to Irish poetry. They shared a love of Radiohead and the Beatles and spoke about the interesting places they’d visited during their trips abroad. It had been easy to talk to her, but he noticed she hesitated whenever the conversations started to shift into the more personal. Family seemed to be a touchy subject for her, and he felt her metaphorical walls heighten as she spoke about Sean. Now, having spoken to Aoife, he understood. He had a greater understanding of the trauma she was still carrying from that. He swirled the wine around in his glass before taking another drink and setting it down on the table, leaning forward to stoke the fire. Setting himself down on the plush rug, he leaned against the sofa and absentmindedly brushed his fingers along Max’s fur, the dog not shifting from his deep slumber.

“You’ve got it easy, boy.” He murmured, reaching up to take another drink. He leaned back and closed his eyes, the wine and warmth from the fire offering a quiet state of calm. But the thought of Becca lingered, like the faint smell of smoke in the air. Subtle but impossible to ignore.

*****

Becca opened the door before Aoife could knock, her expression betraying her exhaustion despite the small smile she managed. “Hey,” she said softly, stepping aside to let her in.

“Hey, yourself,” Aoife replied, her gaze flicking over Becca as she walked in. She noticed the subtle signs of Becca’s mood—the way her arms crossed protectively over her chest, the faint tension in her jaw.

“I made tea,” Becca offered, motioning toward the kitchen.

“Perfect,” Aoife said, sliding her coat off and draping it over a chair. She didn’t push, didn’t press into Becca’s space, instead waiting for her to set the pace.

They settled on the couch a few minutes later, mugs in hand. The warmth of the tea filled the silence as Becca stared into her cup, her thoughts far away.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding your calls,” Becca said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aoife gave her a gentle smile. “I figured you needed space. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Becca exhaled, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know if I am.”

Aoife didn’t respond immediately, letting the words hang between them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Becca hesitated, the walls she’d been clinging to starting to crack. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start anywhere,” Aoife said softly, her tone steady but patient.

Becca set her mug down, wringing her hands together as she stared at the blanket on the couch. “I messed up. With Cillian. I mean, I knew I would eventually, but... I didn’t think it would be like this. I just... I can’t stop thinking about it. About him. About how... easy it felt. And how much that terrifies me.”

Aoife’s chest tightened as she watched her friend wrestle with her emotions. “Why does it scare you, Bex?”

“Because it’s him,” Becca said, her voice breaking slightly. “He’s so... everything. Kind, funny, grounded—and then there’s everything else. Who he is. What comes with him. I’m not built for that, Aoife. I’m not enough for that.”

Aoife’s heart ached as she listened, but she let Becca continue.

“And the worst part is, he makes me feel like maybe I could be enough,” Becca said, her voice quieter now. “Like it’s not as impossible as it seems. But then I think about what happens if I let myself believe that, and it all falls apart.”

Aoife set her mug down, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, Becca. It’s okay to be scared. But... he’s not Sean.”

Becca’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What are you saying?”

Aoife hesitated, her mind flicking back to the conversation in the pub. “I ran into Cillian at the pub the other night,” she admitted carefully. “He was just... worried. He told me what happened before you left for L.A.”

Becca groaned, sinking back against the couch. “Great. So now he thinks I’m a mess.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Aoife said firmly. “He was just confused; he doesn’t understand why you left. He thinks he did something wrong.”

Becca closed her eyes briefly, guilt washing over her. “He didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I just...” She shook her head, struggling to find the words.

 Aoife nodded. “You panicked. It was a big step. I get it. I hope you don’t mind, but I told him about Sean.”

Becca’s eyed widened. “Why would you do that?”

“He needed to know Bex. He needed to understand that this wasn’t anything to do with him. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped, but honestly, sitting there across from him, I couldn’t let him battle all of this without having some context. But he’s willing to wait for you, Becca. He’s not going anywhere.”

Becca swallowed hard; her voice small. “Why would he do that?”

Aoife smiled faintly, her tone softening. “Because he sees you. He sees the real you—the one who’s smart and funny and capable, even if you don’t see it yourself. And if it helps... I’ve never seen you this happy in years as you’ve been since you met him.”

Becca blinked, startled by her words.

“I think the fear of the unknown, the thought of allowing yourself to be close to him, has scared you,” Aoife continued gently. “But I also think you’ll come around. I think you’ll realise how good you two could be. Because, Becca, I see you two together. Even if you can’t see it yet, I do.”

Becca looked away, her chest tight with the weight of Aoife’s words. “What if I mess it up?”

Aoife said simply. “Don’t put the pressure on yourself yet. You’ve not known each other long. You’re still just trying to work out how you feel about each other.” She reached over and grasped her friend’s hand. “Why don’t you just spend some time together? Go on a proper date, have some fun. No expectations of where it could go. He’s willing to give you time, Becca. But you’ve got to meet him halfway when you’re ready. You’ve got to take some time to think about what you want. And if you think he might be it, you owe it to yourself to try and find out if it’s worth the risk. But if you decide he’s not, you need to be honest with him. You need to let him go.”

The room fell quiet again, the weight of the conversation settling over them. Becca picked up her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth.

***** Cillian had been staring blankly at the TV for the past hour, though he couldn’t recall a single thing about what was playing. His mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the uncertainty that had settled over him since Becca had left. He knew she had her walls, and he wanted to give her the time and space she needed. Still, the thought of her giving up on whatever this was—that scared him.

Because, truthfully, he had no idea what this was. Friendship? Maybe, in the beginning. But it had drifted somewhat, and he wasn’t sure how to navigate it. He only knew that she’d taken up more space in his mind than he’d expected—than he’d wanted to allow anyone to take.

She was in his thoughts constantly, at the most unexpected moments. If something amusing or strange happened, his first instinct was to text her, to share it.

And that morning... waking up with her beside him, feeling her warmth and the weight of her trust—it had cracked something open in him. He’d caught himself imagining it as a permanent thing. Waking up to her like that every morning. In that moment, everything that felt right. But then his chest tightened at the memory, the pang of how quickly it had unravelled.

Cillian sighed, his fingers drumming idly against the back of the sofa as Max lay curled at his feet. His thoughts drifted back to her again, to the way she’d smiled at him over her coffee, to the subtle brush of her fingers against his when she took her glass of wine. It was maddening, this limbo they were in.

Suddenly, Max’s ears shot up, his tail wagging as he scrambled to his feet and padded to the door. A knock followed soon after, startling Cillian out of his reverie.

He frowned, glancing at the clock. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Rising to his feet, he crossed the room, his curiosity piqued as Max pawed lightly at the door.

Cillian opened it cautiously, and his breath hitched as he saw her standing there.

Becca.

Her hair was slightly tousled, as though she’d been outside for a while, and her cheeks were pink from the evening chill. She wore a long coat over casual clothes, her arms holding onto a bundle of clothes, his clothes. Her green eyes met his, hesitant but steady, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

“Hey,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm.

“Hey,” he replied, his heart beating faster as he stepped back, holding the door open.

She glanced down at the bundle in her arms. “I just... thought I should bring these back.” Her expression apologetic.

He looked at the clothes and then back at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have to bring them back.”

She hesitated, still standing just outside the door, her body language tense. “Can I come in?” she asked tentatively.

He stepped to the side, allowing her to enter. She hesitated for a second before heading inside, her movements deliberate, like she was bracing herself. Max trotted over immediately, sniffing at her legs before wagging his tail happily.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Cillian said as he closed the door, his tone gentle but curious.

“I know,” Becca said, glancing at him briefly before looking down at Max, scratching behind his ears. “I wasn’t sure if I’d come... but I needed to.”

Cillian nodded, his chest tightening slightly as he watched her. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but he couldn’t deny the flicker of hope sparking inside him. “Do you want to sit?” he asked, motioning to the couch.

She nodded, shrugging off her coat and folding it over her arm before perching on the edge of the sofa. He sat down a careful distance from her, his gaze steady but unassuming as he waited for her to speak.

Becca took a deep breath, her fingers brushing nervously against her jeans. “I owe you an apology,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have…” he asked softly, leaning forward slightly.

“Yes I do. I owe you an apology for leaving like that. I left without explaining anything” she said, glancing at him. “I shut you out and that wasn’t fair.”

Cillian stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“It wasn’t about you,” she said quickly, her eyes meeting his with quiet urgency. “You’ve been nothing but kind. It’s me. I know you spoke to Aoife.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing before nodding. “She…filled in some blanks. But she didn’t tell me anything you wouldn’t want me to know.”

“I know.” Becca sighed, slipping down from the arm rest onto the couch, closing the gap slightly between them. “I’m glad she did. I think I just needed some time to process everything and decide what I wanted.”

“And have you managed to?” He asked, carefully.

She nodded. “Somewhat. I’ve been overthinking everything. Which isn’t unlike me, but I’ve been focusing too much on what could go wrong, looking too far ahead, without thinking of where we are right now. I’ve been thinking about all the reasons I should run before I let myself care too much. I’ve been looking too much at the things I can’t control rather than just letting myself be…in the moment.” She took a breath, sliding further along the couch towards him. She sensed him tensing as she reached out to take his hands in hers. “I don’t know what this is, or what this could be. But I think I’d like to find out. If you want to.”

Cillian stared at her for a moment, his heart pounding. Her vulnerability, her strength—it was everything he admired about her, wrapped up in one unsteady declaration.

“I do,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I want to.”

She smiled, squeezing his hand. “Good. I was thinking…”

He raised his eyebrow slightly, willing her to continue, the tension in his shoulders easing as her words settled between them. Becca glanced down at their enclosed hands, a small, self-deprecating laugh escaping from her.

“It’s kind of ridiculous when you think about it. We’ve had a few weeks of random meetings, some good conversations, a total breakdown on my part... and we haven’t even been on an actual date yet.”

Cillian blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift in tone. Then her laughter reached him, soft and genuine, and he found himself chuckling too.

“You’re not wrong,” he admitted, leaning back against the couch. “Our track record is... unconventional, to say the least.”

“Unconventional,” Becca repeated, shaking her head as she smiled. “That’s one way to put it.”

Her gaze flicked up to his, the humour in her eyes softening into something quieter. “I mean, most people go out for dinner or drinks first. Maybe a movie.”

Cillian laughed again, the sound low and warm. “I don’t think there’s a rulebook for these things.”

“Clearly,” she teased.

The lightness in her voice, the way her shoulders had relaxed - Cillian could see the shift in her. It wasn’t a complete break in her walls, but it was something.

Becca tilted her head slightly, her smile lingering. “But maybe we should change that. You know, actually go on a proper date. Like normal people. As normal as going on a date with you could be, mind you.”

Cillian raised a brow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Are you asking me out, Captain O’Neill?”

Her cheeks flushed faintly, but she held his gaze. “Maybe I am, Mr. Murphy.”

He chuckled, the warmth of her words settling in his chest. “Well, in that case, I accept.”

“Good,” she said, leaning back into the couch, her hands still clinging to his. “But let’s keep it simple, yeah? No red carpets or flashing cameras. Just... dinner. Somewhere quiet.”

“Somewhere quiet,” he agreed, his voice soft.

For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence, the tension between them replaced by something lighter, more hopeful.

*****

Go to part 8