#so I don't have my computer and tablet set up

[ask-yorha]

There's been a critical error in the communication device!

If you're receiving this message, please have faith, ancient humans. I'll have the machine up and back to full function in no time flat. Us scanners are great with hardware, after all.

- Dutifully, Unit 9S of the former yoRHa force

[ghostsprobably]

The gut wrenching adhd feeling when you finally finally get yourself to do something and you feel ready and then it just, doesn't work. There's some unexpected roadblock that now you have to figure out how to fix and you just can't. You were so ready to finally be productive and the universe goes SIKE

[plutosoda]

how i make character models* in paint3d

*they are not models. you cannot rig them. but for simplicity i will call them this. also this guy is the example ⬇️

so. paint3d is very jank and not actually that good But it is fun to mess around with and for getting that early 2000s computer game effect for things. this program crashes and lags a lot especially when making more detailed stuff like this so. throughout this Please save your project periodically. I have lost so much to not doing this

if your computer isn't that great it's best to keep the quality setting at it's lowest. these models aren't really that detailed so it doesn't make a huge difference anyways LOL

when you open p3d you start with a blank 2d canvas. if you've Never used the program before i recommend fucking around with 3d view + making 3d shapes for a bit. make a Thing. like just some random object. it does not have to be good it's just to get used to how the controls work (because it is different between my mouse and drawing tablet and im not going into that here LOL). the biggest positive about p3d is how user intuitive it is compared to.yknow. blender when you're done with the Thing and u want to start with your character go back to the 2d canvas/2d view for sketching time

you could probably do this in another program but. i find it easier to just do it here. i keep these pretty simple and try to keep depth in mind

then go to canvas and make the background transparent. and then switch to 3d view to start making the base for the model on top of the sketch

at this point i don't use the 3d doodle shapes yet because they are finnicky as hell. the preset ones are a bit easier to control and move around so they're nicer for the planning part. what shapes you use depends on your character but my guy here is very circles and round so its just a sphere and some cylinders

make sure you're in 3d view and checking the pose from every angle ! if ur guy looks like a roblox avatar without the assets loaded fully then that is ideal. once you're happy with the pose it's Sculpting Time

where you choose to start is up to you but i usually get the head out of the way bc it tends to be the most complicated thing.

this is my best friend forever. the sharp edge is helpful for stuff like metal and whatnot though so i use them both.

for stuff like hair and fur i find its easier to make a bunch of small shapes and then connect them instead of trying to do it all in one go

^better examples with fluffier guys

this part is pretty much just personal preference for how you want your model to look though. just keep adding Stuff until it looks alright. also reminder to be saving your work bc this is when it gets really annoying if p3d crashes

finished head. jus keep addin stuff. copy and paste is a godsend btw.

puffier jacket. also connecting the limbs. just keep addin stuff.

these take a few hours .finished limbs. pretend the backpack is there i forgot to get a progress shot of it

now it is time for the objectively best part which is painting the guy. switch back to the 2d brush but stay in 3d view and start Coloring . i only really use the watercolor brush for shading/gradients and the marker one for lines but this part is also personal preference.

watercolor brush for the blue gradient and marker for the face .

i would Not do this in 2d art but i like adding a white gradient to pastel colors like with the hair here. it compliments the soft shapes well i think. to quote a friend it Looks Gummy

my silly highlights.

almost done with the creature. also mentioning that there are different textures for objects that you can change when picking their base color. the zipper is metal so it gets to be shinier.

theres also different lighting/filters to mess around with + you can doodle on the transparent canvas still.

save ur guy as a image and/or a turnaround gif/video/whatevar u want . and thas it! you can also mess with the model more for different poses and expressions (although this is super laggy bc it has to render a bunch of shapes at this point)

go make some CREACHURES !!

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE STRATEGY CALL

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. in which the stark racing f1 team talks about the 2025 strategy and beyond

content warnings. written in 3rd person

word count. 1.4k words

notes. with this chapter i wanted to involve a bit of politics and 'realistically' explain why stark racing won't immediately win a wdc (because with the whole set up, it would be possible). f1 are politics and no matter how many drivers say cash is king, connections have sometimes more worth

"welcome, everyone. thank you for tuning in", greets tony with a big smile on his face, spreading his arms as if going in for a hug.

"as you can see, i'm not currently with any departement, i'm doing the finishing touches in my own lab back in new york... since i don't want to drag anyone here to the US for meetings, we will proceed like this until january next year."

"now, i know it will be annoying with dragging your equipement with you and it's also unsafe, since you know... data secrets bla bla- so, in the next few days, each stark racing employee will receive the so called 'tactical intelligence glasses', which you can see me wearing. it's voice activated and can only be used by the one who sets it up, which will be you!" while speaking, tony fiddles with a pencil in his hand and starts walking around in his lab, showcasting it to every viewer.

"to cut things short, you'll receive a tutorial on how to use these glasses and set them up once you receive them. if you ever lose them, don't worry, we can track them. destroying them is pretty hard, but please don't try to make it a challange... our plan is to use them not only during meetings but also during the race, to keep our data from the cameras. with netflix, paparazzi and other cameras from the news, it's easy to steal data that shouldn't be accessible."

"alright then", he ends his ramblings with a clap, "we're going over the interesting part now. let's talk strategy..."

y/n let's her father's voice wash over her, her own glasses perched on her nose and feeding her constant information. in front of her are two holograms, projected by the hologram table in the meeting room she's currently in. the standing figure of her father and the presentation he's currently rattling off, all of it in a glowing blue.

next to her sits kevin, her future teammate, exhausted from the long 24 season but still paying attention. the rest of the room is filled with their team, the race engineers and trainers- each of them having their own glasses on.

to outsiders it looks like they're clowns, but it's a common sight in stark industries. decades ahead of the general public, stark stands for the future. of course they're trying to push it to the outer world, selling hologrammic equipement to both the industry but also private customers, but it's a slow progress.

the marketing team of SI hopes with their public use of the glasses and other devices they'll attract more customers, leaving the age of apple and samsung behind and instead welcoming the age of holograms. powered by starkanium, the production of phones, tablets, computers- anything really, is much cheaper and enviroment friendly than what's currently dominating the market.

shaking her head, y/n focuses on the presentation again. of course she knows it by heart already, she helped writing it, brooding over the strategy with the team ever since the team got announced.

"... the plan is to finish between 5th-3rd on the construction championship. not higher, not lower. we don't want to place higher, because this is our testing season. we will be practically sandbagging from the beginning, not revealing our true power for 2026."

yes... the construction championship. it will bring in money, not that they would need it, but it will justify the expenses they're going to make during the season to prepare for their second one. y/n is under no illusion, if they want, they could go all out and snag at least p2, if not p1. maybe she would even get her world championship- only then for everyone to say she won because she's driving a stark machine and not because of her own skill.

it sounds arrogant, she knows. but y/n believes, no, she doesn't only believe, she knows, she is one of the best in the whole world. if she can go against her father in an iron man suit, who can be only piloted by less than ten people in the world... winning in an f1 car is nothing.

but they've already made enemies for not waiting until 2026 like audi, 'enemies', who have much more pull within the motorsport world than them, simply because they're already established. christian horner is one, followed by toto wolff, the iconic red racing team not far behind.

with they're entry, they didn't make friends on the paddock, so for their first season... they can't be too good. or else their future seasons will be ruined.

it's stupid, to think like this, to think so far ahead, to think of others, in a sport where winning is everything. but it's not. cash and connections influence everything you do, how far you succeed. they have plenty of money, but are practically poor in connections. heck, even haas is better established than them.

they won't be, not after they're done after their first season. they will show the world, what stark racing is truly made of. and y/n will prove, that a woman can win.

"-bought data packs from previous seasons, dating back a whole decade, from mercedes and aston martin. cost a pretty penny, but data is everything. not to mention, after the big leak that happend in the middle of the season, we managed to grab enough data on all teams to calculate 3523 outcomes to this season. points, standings, anything." kevin wheezes at the number, which is followed by several data sheets. he gapes at the calculations, which predict another world championship for max 2064 times. all from the data they managed to collect.

"insane, right?", y/n whispers to kevin, who turns his head to her. his wide eyes make her snicker.

"welcome to stark racing, mate. just you wait until JARVIS and FRIDAY start feeding in new numbers and information." a muttered 'holy shit' is the only answer she gets and y/n has to snicker again. toto wolff once said something about formula one being war planning... well, he should know that stark industries and it's most brilliant minds know everything about war. be it on the market, by income or an actual alien invasion.

"we want to achieve at least one win, be it in a proper race or sprint, three podiums per driver and at least two fastest laps. and it will be possible", her father continues, pointing at a hologram of their car. it spins lazily in a circle, showing off it's aeorodynamic curves.

"this car is faster than the rb19, goes on par with the rb20. we don't know the upgrades from red bull, but another year and we can pretty much predict their stats for 2026. newey is predictable, all his upgrades point towards the perfection of the car, he focuses on what to make better and not invent something completely new. and if he does, he takes ages to prove it's better than what they had before. newey is brilliant, but he's no stark." there it is again, the facts of their rivals, taken apart and put back together to summerize their data in a few simple words.

"so, our motto for this season is testing, collecting data and improving for the next season. we're sandbagging, we're restricting ourselves. so if we ever do bad... we all know we could do much better. the engineering team will send first comparisons between the SR-1 and SR-2 out next week, y/n has already tested both cars in the sim, so we will have some data to read off."

"so, with that, we're pretty much done. thank you everyone for listening, i know for some it's very early right now, so if you have to read over the spark notes- JARVIS has put a summary of the most important information together, you'll receive the mail right after this converence. thank you again and welcome to stark racing, everyone!" claps fill the room and y/n takes off her glasses. it's exhausting to play mindgames like this, to calculate the desired outcome, but it will all come together.

hopefully, with her as a world champion, with the bold stark name on her back.

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90

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ARKHAM MAID 2024

[mytheoristavenue]

DS Incel!Gyutaro Shabana x Reader - Strings Attached

Summary: When you befriend the loser in your comp-sci class, you make it your mission to get him laid.

Warnings: Incel mindsets, misogyny, self-deprecation, poor hygiene, one-sided pining, language, lewd jokes, innuendo, toxic views of women

Word Count:

It was never meant to go this far, it was meant to be a fun project. Feelings were never meant to be involved, he knew that, didn't he?

You first noticed Gyutaro on the day you moved into your college dorm. He stood in the center of the room, holding a stack of boxes while he spoke to a bright-looking girl. Her pale- almost icy hair and vibrant eyes struck you before anything on him did. "Oh my gosh, you must be (Y/N)!"

You nodded sheepishly, arms full of luggage as she cheerily greeted you, leaving the slender man alone to watch. "I'm assuming you must be Ume?" You laughed nervously, flustered under the attention she gave you.

"Yeah, that's right!" She chirped, taking a few things from your hands and setting them on the bed to the right. "Here, let me help you with that! I already kinda settled into the left side, I hope you don't mind!" You shook your head with a dismissive smile, following suit. "Oh, before I forget, brother," The girl chimed, turning back to the man, tugging childishly on the sleeve of his flannel. "This is my roommate, (Y/N)," She turned back to you, tossing a thumb back toward him. "(Y/N), this is my big brother, Gyutaro."

You gave him a wave, only getting a curt nod as a reply. "Don't mind him, he's just shy around girls!" Ume teased, pointing to a spot where she wanted him to set the boxes he held. You could hear him curse her name under his breath, but it hardly counted as conversation. Soon after, he left, the pink never retreating from his cheeks.

-----

The second time you met him was in your computer science class, a little more than a week later. Though you and Ume were both freshmen, you had taken a great deal of college courses in highschool, which lead you to have classes with a junior such as himself. You were a bit relieved to see a familiar face as you climbed the lecture hall stairs to the top left corner where he sat. You waved at him cheerfully, calling out his name. "Hey, Gyutaro, right?"

He spared you a glance, rolling his eyes and adjusting the large headphones on his ears, heavy metal music blaring from them. "Oh," you paused, a bit embarrassed. "Do you mind if I sit with you?" He simply shrugged, prompting you to very awkwardly sit beside him, unzipping your bag to pull out your laptop.

-----

The third time you met Gyutaro was when you realized he was a regular at the on-campus coffee shop you began working at. He and Ume would come in nearly every morning before class and then again after classes, so you got to serve them just about every time you worked, no matter what shift.

"Good morning Ume, Gyutaro!" You chirped, smiling when they came in.

"Hey, bestie, how's your first shift going?" The girl asked excitedly, hopping up to the counter. You shook your head at her enthusiasm, having gotten quite close to her in the last few weeks.

"It's going fine mostly. What can I get you guys?" You asked kindly, stepping over to the register.

"Hmmm," Ume thought, tapping her painted finger against her chin. "I think I'll get something simple since it's your first day!" You thanked her for her thoughtfulness. "How about a vanilla latte for me and just plain old coffee for Gyu."

"Alright," You acknowledged, tapping the tablet screen to ring up their order. "Gyutaro, do you want any-"

"Black." He simply said, scoffing and taking out a twenty from his wallet. You hadn't realized it at the time, but that was the first word he ever said to you, and you certainly never anticipated how very chatty he would later become.

You nodded nervously, put off by his coldness. You finished the order and counted back his change. "Alright so that's six thirty-five out of twenty so thirteen seventy-five is your change!" You chirped, holding your fist out to him, confused when he wouldn't offer his hand.

"Keep it," He muttered, nudging his head to the right towards the tip jar on the counter. "Hope your first day goes well..."

"T-Thank you, Gyutaro..." You softened, smiling a bit as you dropped the money into the jar. "That's sweet of you." You didn't miss how his cheeks dusted pink, though you chalked it up to Ume's teasing.

"Awe, big bro, you're such a sweetie!" She gushed, following him to a booth, ingoring his harsh warnings to quiet down.

"Shut the hell up!" He whispered to her, incredibly irritated and even more embarrassed. "God you're so annoying..."

You couldn't help but laugh at the pair and they're obvious love for one another. Ume was so bubbly and outgoing and Gyutaro was so moody and introverted. They complimented each other quite well in your opinion. Maybe that's why you took an interest in him.

-----

After that third time, you stopped keeping track of your meetings with him, especially when you realized, that not only would you see him nearly daily in class and at work, but he would visit his sister incredibly frequently. It wasn't uncommon for you to come home after work to find him sitting on the floor, back against Ume's bed, listening to her idle chatter. Today was one such occassion.

You sighed, exhausted from class as you let yourself into the dorm, hanging your purse and keys on the rack of hooks that you and your roommate shared. You cocked a brow at the scene before you as you slid out of your hoodie and hung it over the back of your desk chair. Like usual, Gyutaro sat on the floor, laptop open in his lap as Ume lounged on the bed, her foot resting on his shoulder.

"Gyu, stop moving, you're gonna make me mess up!" She whined, lazer focused on the teal nail polish she was brushing onto her toeanils.

"Get that shit on my jacket and you die," He grumbled back. "Actually no," he then added, glancing at her over his shoulder. "I'll just stop doing your homework and let you fail."

"Brother!" You couldn't help but giggle as you gathered your leisure clothes to change for the evening, heading to the adjoining bathroom. "You wouldn't let me fail, you love me too much! Right..?"

"Ume," You smirked knowingly, coming out of the bathroom in leggings and an old metal band t-shirt. "Why don't you just do your own homework? It's like the third week of the semester, you can't be that far behind."

"It's computer stuff, I didn't sign up for that!" She huffed, screwing the top back onto her bottle of nail polish.

"You...literally did sign up for it." You gently reminded her, snickering at the way she flustered.

"W-Well I didn't want to! Besides, it has nothing to do with my major anyways!" She insisted, pointing her nose up at the ceiling.

"What's your major again? Fashion or something?" You mused, hopping up onto your bed and kicking off your houseshoes. "You know you have to learn graphic deisng and stuff for that, right?"

"She's right, ya know," Gyutaro piped up from his seat on the floor, readusting his legs. "What's the point of me puttin' you through college if you're just gonna make me earn your degree for you?"

"But Gyu!" She groans, resting her head ontop of his and frowning like a sad clown. "You're so much better at this stuff than I am!"

"Yeah, 'cause it's my major and I actually do the work I'm assigned? Maybe because I'm not a lazy brat like you? Just a guess." He sassed back, actions betraying his words as he continued to type away at the keyboard.

You had always found it interesting, their relationship. They seemed to have a much closer bond than most siblings do, and most people would veiw their interactions for the outside looking in as possibly romantic. But having gotten to know them a bit, you were beginning to realize why they spent so much time together. They didn't have anyone else in their lives, especially Gyutaro.

"Hey, Gyutaro?" You suddenly called from your bed, laying on your tummy across it. His gaze quirked up to you over the lid to his laptop with a curious brow. "Don't you have a girlfriend or something?"

You watched his eyes widen, the left one twitching slightly as heat rose up his neck. "What the fuck? Why the hell is that your business?" He rasped, furrowing his brows.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I swear!" You laughed nervously, crosswing your arms under your chin. "I just meant, I never see you hang out with anyone other than Ume, so I was curious."

"Oh, oh, I can answer this one!" Said girl chimed, laying in a similar fashion, her hair falling over the side of the bed and onto his shoulder.

"No, you can't, shut up," Gyutaro scolded, brushing her ivory locks away from him. "Shut up or I'm killing this whole document, I swear to God."

"No you won't, you've been working on it for hours!" She huffed before tapping on his left shoulder to get his attention. When he glanced over, she leaned over his right and snatched the laptop away from him, just in case he wasn't bluffing. "Anyways, Gyu doesn't have any friends, just me!" The way she'd said it so casually tugged on your heartstrings, espeically with the expression that he pulled in response.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." You muttered, feeling guilty for even having asked. "Is there a reason why?"

Gyutaro had some spiteful remark about his looks locked and loaded, but his sister took the wind from his sails. "It's because he thinks he's ugly!" She groaned, as if such a sentiment was outlandish to her. "That and he never goes out to talk to people!"

"That's not true, I have tons of friends!" He protested, sitting up on his knees and turning around, trying to reach his computer, only to have it further nudged out of his reach. "Akaza, Kaigaku, and Douma are my friends."

"Douma's a creep, Akaza's a douche, and Kaigaku..." She paused. "I guess he's alright, but he literally abandoned you, like what the eff!"

The man rolled his eyes, dragging his palms down his flushed face. "Oh my God, he didn't abandon me! He joined a frat and moved out of my dorm!"

"Oh, you have a friend in a frat?" You asked, curiousity piqued. "Does he ever invite you to any parties?" You were yet to experience a frat party and the oppertunity to possibly get an invite seemed increadibly tantilizing.

"Well, he used to," Gytuaro answered curtly, curling up with his knees to his chin, seemingly giving up getting his laptop back. "He kinda stopped inviting me because I kept saying no."

"You turned down invites to multiple parties?" Ume shrieked, yanking on the hood of his jacket, rocking back and forth. "You're even lamer than I thought!"

You simply shook your head at her childish display. "Why don't you just ask for an invite to the next one? It's the start of the semester, so I'm sure there'll be one soon." You suggested with a paitent smile.

"Why the hell would I do that? I don't wanna go," He admitted, giving you a look like you were stupid just for insinuating he might enjoy such a setting. "It's all just drunk girls, drunk guys, drunk sex, and stupidity."

"I wanna go!" His sister pouted, still pulling at him. "It sounds like fun!"

"Absolutely fuckin' not!" He shut her down without a second thought. "Ume, if I ever found out you went to a party without me I'd-" He paused, head falling back against her legs, seeing her big, hopeful eyes, deciding to drop whatever violent threat was on on the tip of his tounge. "I'd hang you up by your toes." He sighed, smirking as he pinched her freshly painted big toe.

"I won't go alone, (Y/N)'ll come with me, won't you?" She chriped, glancing up at you, giggling and kicking his hands away.

"Of course I will! I love partying, it'll be fun!" You agreed cheerily.

"Hey, no! What the hell did I just say?" Gyutaro piped up, his fond smile fading to an irritated scowl. "I didn't say you couldn't go alone, I said you can't go without me!"

"Come with us, then," You snickered, reaching out and flicking his forehead to get his attention. "Simple fix."

"I said I don't wanna go," He grumbled, eyebrow twitching in irritation. "And neither of you are going without me, so I guess nobody is going anywhere!" He chirped fakely.

"Hey, why can't I go?" You whine, laying your head on your arm. God, were your lashes always this long, or is it just because you're pouting? "That's not fair..."

"Because if you go, Ume will go because she has no self control." He depanned, entirely ignoring her annoyed bonks to his head. "And then you'll both probably get drugged and date raped or something. Then I'll have to kill someone and I really don't wanna go back to prison."

The grin on his face made you a bit queasy and you weren't sure why. You were sure he was bluffing, but then again, you didn't really know Gyutaro all that well. He could be a felon for all you knew. Luckily, your roomie nipped that train of thought in the butt. "Brother, you idiot, you don't even have criminal record!" Just like that, the 'cool guy' facade he'd created crumbled, and he was back to his shy self again, flustered as he argued with his sister.

"C'mon, Gyutaro," You giggled, reaching out and toying with a few strands of his hair, noting that they were fairly greasy. You pretended not to notice. "Just come with us this one time, who knows you might like it!"

"How could I possibly like it?" He rolled his eyes, avoiding your gaze as your nails gently scratched his scalp.

"Maybe you'll meet a girl!" Ume chirped excitedly, shaking his shoulders again. "Oh my God, what if we go a you meet a girl and fall in love and-"

"Oh, give it a rest," He groan, leaning away from her, only to inadvertedly lean farther into your touch. Great, he was trapped between to girls, and not even in the good way. Either his annoying baby sister, or her annoying best friend.

"Hey, yeah, that's a good idea, actually!" You grin, leaning closer still, nearly falling off your bed and into his lap. "We'll all go! We can experience our first frat party, you can look after us, and we can help you talk to girls! Everyone wins!"

Gyutaro hated this idea, he had so many better things to do than to babysit two freshman girls at a wild party. But something told him neither you or Ume would let it go until he relented, so with his hands up defensively, he finally sighed. "Jesus Christ, fine! I'll text Kaigaku for an invite!"

You both squealed with delight at the thought of going to your first college party, thanking him endlessly. He simply waved you off as he took out his phone from his pocket, one hundred percent sure he'd regret this.

"Hey man, could I maybe get an invite to the next party?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 42

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Almost lost this chapter bc my computer went nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hit delete chat in the conversation settings. You leave it just as blank as before and close out the app. Just like Dr. Kemp said to. He can’t be there right away but he has a better plan. You’re not good at those anyway.

All you have to do now is wait out Andy. He’ll be going to work come morning and you’ll be alone. Then you can take your things, the things that are really yours, and leave. Finally. You realise that’s exactly what you’ve been longing for. A way out.

The hard part is still ahead of you. Freedom is still just out of reach. You have to pretend that everything’s fine but you’re realising, you’ve been doing that for a while.

You shake off your nerves and roll the tears back behind your eyes. You can cry later. Even as your cheeks strain and your nose tingles, you resist. Not yet, not yet.

You finish tidying up the tablet, trying to leave it as you found it. With not much else than your drawings. You close the cover and bring it with you as you turn off the lights and head upstairs. You sop up the mess in the bathroom and leave it dark. 

You hesitate to approach the bedroom. You hear Andy’s snores, low and steady. Your skin crawls. You enter and put the tablet on the small side table where you charge it. You hang the damp robe and face the bed.

For the first time in your life, you want to hurt someone. You’re not afraid of being the one hurt. You really want to hit him and kick him and just let out your fury on him. You can’t and you won’t. You’re not who he told you you are. And you’re not strong enough for that. You’re still too small, too weak.

So you near the bed and climb under the covers. You move slowly as you pull the duvet to your chin. He snorts, making you wince, and sidles up behind you as he wraps his arm around you. You go rigid but fight through the ice that threatens to encase you. He can’t know, he can’t know.

“Mmm, where were you?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Had a bath,” you squeak, putting your hand over his. You want to rip him away but instead, you squeeze, holding him tighter. “Sorry.”

“Nmph,” he grumbles and nuzzles your crown, just as quickly drifting back into his rhythmic snores.

You exhale little by little. You close your eyes but just as quickly open again. You know you won’t sleep. You can’t. Not with him as good as on top of you. Not knowing what awaits you in the morning. But mostly, not with that needling guilt in the nape of your neck.

Amber.

You betrayed your own sister. You treated her like a villain. You demonised her. You ostracised her. You left her!

You don’t know if she can ever forgive you. You can’t blame her for that. Worse, you don’t think you’d let her forgive you. You don’t deserve it.

You feel brittle as you bite down on your cheeks. No crying, not yet, you remind yourself. For once, you have to do things right. You have to follow through. It’s up to you now.

🕊️

“I didn’t know you could make crepes,” Andy smiles as he cuts into the roll, compote fruit and syrup oozing out.

You do your best to mirror him, making a show of nibbling away at your own food.

“I found a recipe,” you tap your tablet, not far from you.

“That’s great. You’re… doing better.”

“I’m trying,” you assure him, “I hope it doesn’t make you late for work.”

“Hm? Oh, no, breakfast with you is worth it,” he pops a bit into his mouth and hums. You regret not spitting in it, repulsed by the thought when it came to you, but now, not so much.

He can sit there and lie to you. It makes it easier for you to do the same. He’s been lying this entire time. Making you feel like you’re a problem. A burden. No, you were a thing to be used. To be exploited. He never liked you, the girl he calls dove, he only liked what he could get out of you. And he got off on it.

He took Amber from you. He did that. Yes, you’re stupid for falling for it but he knew what he was doing. He lied to you. And you know exactly how he did it. 

He took all that therapy and twisted it around on you. You wonder why he even bothers with Dr. Kemp when he’s not trying to change. More than the narcissist he branded your sister, he’s a psychopath. You found that on the internet too.

Bitter, angry, hateful. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never truly loathed anyone. Not even your grandfather. His fists were nothing compared to Andy’s emotional battering.

“Well, don’t let it get too cold. They get gummy,” you force a smile, only fed by the thought of what comes after. Of what you’re going to do when he leaves.

Run.

🕊️

When Andy leaves, you’re in the kitchen tidying up. You left all the dishes in a stack to make a convincing show for him. You’ll be busy all day scouring the skillet and the fruit stuck to the inside of the pot, along with your plates and the cutlery. Oh and the mess you made of the counters.

The door closes but you don’t break your charade right away. You give it ten minutes. Fifteen, just to be sure. Then you tiptoe down the hall and look out the window. The tire tracks are already snowed over. 

You don’t hesitate. You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. This is your chance. You spin and race upstairs. 

You search the closet and the dresser, everywhere for the bag you brought there. It’s gone. Along with all the clothes from your old life. All that was you. Andy took them along with everything else.

Whatever. You grab a few pieces of the more practical slant; turtlenecks, some leggings, a pair of jeans. Socks and underwear. You work quickly, with intent. Just enough to get out, not a lot. Not too much. As little as you can. You don’t want to keep too much that will remind you of this place.

You rush back downstairs after you change. You grab your tablet and message Dr. Kemp, the chat log still blank. You delete each message once he responds. You can’t be too careful.

‘He’s gone. When can you get here?’

His reply isn’t long; ‘ten minutes, been waiting a block away.’

‘I’ll be outside.’

You close the cover of the tablet and stare at it. You hover it over the countertop but stop yourself. No, you earned this. It’s yours. Andy never did pay you for the painting. Not in full.

You hug the tablet and go to retrieve the bag you found in the front closet. A tote bag with faded floral print. You don’t wonder where it came from. You don’t want to think too hard about him or this place. They’ll soon be long gone.

You pull on your boots and your coat. That’s all he’s left you of your former existence. You don’t suspect you would have them for much longer if you stay. You shudder and grip the fabric handles of the bag.

You open the front door and step out into the drift. The snow floats down in fluffy flakes. As you step off the porch, it collects on your lashes. You make slow progress, lifting your knees high as the unshoveled walk makes each step a task. As you come up to the curb, a distant rumble comes from down the avenue.

You shield your eyes against the steady snowfall and squint. You think it’s Dr. Kemp. You’re not sure. When you saw his car, it was dark and you were more focused on other things.

He rolls down the snow-carpeted road cautiously and pulls in the next driveway before turning around and coming up along the curb. He grins at you through the passenger window and the doors unlock with a loud thunk. You grab the handle and pull.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Thanks, doctor, I… thank you. I…”

“You sounded scared, how could I say no?”

You nod and look over your shoulder at the house.

“Let me deal with Andy when the time comes,” he insists, “come on, it’s hell out here. Get in.”

You nod and haul your bag onto the floor ahead of you and put the tablet on top. You stop yourself before you release the device. You look at Dr. Kemp. He stares.

“You alright?” He asks.

“I forgot something,” you say as you let go of the tablet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be two minutes,” you hold up as many fingers, “promise.”

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he assures with a smile, “I’ll be here.”

You take and breath and close the passenger door gently. You whip around and stumble back up the walk, stepping into the holes you left on your way out. You burst inside, not carrying for the melting snow you leave in your stead or the undone dishes, or anything about this place. There’s only one last thing that needs to be done.

You take the stairs two at a time as you complete your final chore. You barrel back down and don’t bother with a final goodbye as you head back out. For once, you feel accomplished. Like you’ve done something and you don’t give a heck what Andy feels.

You don’t look back, you just keep going. You falter but not from doubt, only the snow. You get back to the car and rip the door open, climbing in with a heave. You fall into the seat as you snap the door shut. You lean your head back and sigh.

“I’m ready to go now,” you say.

“Great,” he shifts into gear, “put your seat belt on, sweetheart, the roads are awful.”

You do as he says as you catch your breath. Your skin is buzzing from more than just the cold. You fold your hands as you try to settle your nerves. 

“Good girl,” Dr. Kemp praises, “we’ll be home soon.”

🕊️

It’s real once you walk through the front door. You look around at the home decor and nearly fall apart. The stringent, almost sterile walls of Andy’s house haunt you. It’s only then, with something to compare them to, that you realise how much you dreaded them. How much you despised them.

You look around and take in every inch. The brown leather bench beside the door, a tall coat rack on the other side of the entryway, a mat for your snow laden boots, and a runner rug with the honey coloured curlicues on a deeper shade of brown. There’s a faint smell of cedar in the air.

“Ann made up the guest room for you,” he says, “and the kids are at school so they shouldn’t be a bother.”

You stop short, your hands on the collar of your coat. You look at him, dull with shock. Your cheeks tremble as you gulp.

“Ann… your…”

“My wife, yeah,” he says coolly, “she’s excited to meet you.”

“She is?” You blink, “I uh…” your eyes flit all around, “I’m so sorry, this isn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he intones, “really. She understands how vulnerable some of them a safe space.”

It’s like a slap in the face. You don’t know what you expected or why you expected it. He’s your doctor, you’re his patient, a crazy person. How did you forget that?

You glance down at his hand, his left hand. There’s a gold ring on his finger. It wasn’t there before. Not in your sessions, not at Thanksgiving. Never. Why wasn’t he with his family during the holidays?

“I thought I heard the door,” a woman appears from the other end of the hall, “oh, this must be her.”

You bat your lashes, fighting to hold yourself together. Don’t cry yet. 

“Uh, hi,” you squeak as she struts down the hall.

“Hello, hon,” the tall blonde pulls you into a hug as you cower.

“Ann,” Kemp clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forget–” she lets you go, “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

You only shake your head. Your eyes are dry and itchy. You can only look back at her before slowly glancing at Steve. Your cheeks twinge and your lips pinch. He never told you about her. Why would he?

You feel like your chest is empty. There’s an icy whirlwind inside of you, flowing through you, sending a shiver up your spine. This is the worst thing you've ever felt. What is it?

“Ann,” Kemp says, “she's had a long night.”

“Oh, of course, you take her up to the guest room,” she backs off, “you take your time, hon, do whatever you need to do.”

You nod and mouth a thank you, unable to get any noise out. She goes back the way she came and you turn, focusing on undoing your coat. What have you done?

“I guess I should've warned you, huh? What with your… issues,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Just let me know if it gets too crowded around here.”

“Okay,” you croak.

You bend to wiggle free of your boots. You don't know what to do. You just want to be alone.

He leads you through the house. Into a cozy front room and to a staircase curled up to the second floor. You follow behind him, the tote bag dangling from your grasp.

He opens a door as he faces you. You try to hide your emotions but you can barely keep from frowning. He rests his hand on the door frame.

“This is you. I'm down at the very end,” he points over his shoulder, “if you need anything…”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? For…”

“Coming here.”

“Sweetheart, I wouldn't say yes if it was a problem,” he coos as he reaches to caress your shoulder, “I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I don't make sure my patients are safe, huh?”

“I guess not,” you murmur.

“Look, you just get yourself situated. Try to relax. I know a lot's happened but you're strong. You can do this,” he leans in, “I believe in you.”

He kisses your forehead and you wince. His hand goes to your chin as he pulls away. You stare up at him.

“I meant it when I said you're special,” he hums.

“I…” you turn your head away from him, slipping free, “I need to lay down.”

“Sure,” he smirks and drops his hand, “I'll check in when I can.”

You turn into the bedroom, slouching through as you sense him behind you. You feel him watching, as if waiting for something. You refuse to look back.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he purrs, “you're exactly where you need to be.”

The door shuts and you gasp as the bag falls from your hand. What does he mean?

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Photo Finish

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: I don't really have words for this. @desert-fern and I were chatting about Hangman thots. And this spilled out of my brain.

Warnings: This is just porn. Porn with Plot. Consume at your own risk.

Word Count: 6484

A/N: This is dedicated to @desert-fern, @dakotakazansky and @horseshoegirl! Read and enjoy the thots my darlings!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

It is an unforgiving job, working as a photographer. You'd been all over the world taking pictures for exposes, portraits of world leaders, and scenery. You could name a print material with a portrait on the cover and say you'd taken a picture of that kind. 

It's your first time in New York after six months of working on assignment after assignment for your agency when you're called into your boss’s office and ordered to get a studio ready. You're expecting a shot with supermodels or perfumes. Hell, you've even taken photos of cans of dog food. You're not expecting to hear that the client is the U.S. Navy. Not at all.

The U.S. Navy's recruitment numbers have fallen to an all-time low. They're looking for a propaganda vehicle or five to kickstart recruitment. They've ordered a squadron of pilots to fly to New York and have professional portraits taken. It had been decided it was too risky to have civilian photographers on base, so your company had rented a colossal hangar from the airport for one day. The squadron and their jets would land tonight, and the shoot would happen tomorrow. The information has you reeling and more than a little flustered. The U.S. Navy? As a client? That’s huge. This assignment could make or break your whole career. How do you even start? This shoot is on an awfully quick turnaround for something so big.

Your mind is spinning, thinking of how you could make these spreads work. To begin your prep work, you go to your office, collecting your assistant, stylists, makeup artist, and lighting coordinators. Once everyone is clustered around your office, you fire up your computer and display pictures of each aviator. The Navy has selected six aviators for this spread; they’re all gorgeous. And per the sanitized dossiers you hand out to your team to read, each has risked their lives to serve their country. Of the five men on the dossiers, one keeps catching your attention. His name is Jake, Jake Seresin, and his eyes pierce into you even through the low-quality picture you’ve been given.

“Alright. So how do we do this? The Navy asked for shots of each aviator and their plane in flight suits and uniforms. We’ll have all four jets in the hangar with us tomorrow. Additionally, I want to explore who they are as people. So I think we’ll also do shots of them in formal wear. As a last step, we’ll tie into their sex appeal and do shots of the boys in their flight jackets and dog tags with no shirts. For Lieutenant Trace, I thought we could explore the duality she naturally poses as a highly decorated female Naval Aviator. How does that sound? Any ideas for how we can accomplish that? Start pulling pieces on racks in the bullpen. I want to do a final review of all of the options at 4 o’clock.”

Your stylists, Adam and Lea, are already huddled up and discussing pieces to pull for the formal wear shoot. You can see an unholy gleam in Lea’s eyes as she finds pieces for Lieutenant Trace to wear for the sex appeal shot on her tablet. You grin at their enthusiasm before turning to your lighting techs.

“Seb, Kris. I want you both to head out to the hangar today. I don’t know what the lighting is going to look like. Feel free to start setting up the lighting for the shoot tomorrow. But don’t lock anything down. We’re going to have to share our space with the planes.”

You turn to your assistant, Amy. 

“Ames, go with them. Get an idea of the space we have to deal with. Measurements would be useful. Start visualizing areas where we could lay out a backdrop to do a set of pics without the planes in the background. Scope out everything — the facilities, where we could set up changing booths, a refreshments table, etc. We’ll also probably need to coordinate deliveries from the usual food platters and drinks places. Get an assortment of things that would apply to any dietary restrictions you can think of.”

With that, you turn to the last member of your team, your makeup artist. 

“Hey, Katie. We will want to keep the makeup for this shoot subtle and touch up any blemishes and under-eye circles. That should be it for the boys, but we’ll want to do something eye-catching for the formal wear portion for Lieutenant Trace. So pack accordingly. Go ahead if you want, and head to the hangar with Ames so you can coordinate placement for the makeup station.”

You call your team to attention by ringing the small gong on your desk.

“We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today. Call me for anything you need. This shoot is important for the studio, and we will have many eyes on us. Here are the credentials for the hangar. Measurements for the aviators are included in the dossier packets. For the formal wear portion of the shoot, pick coordinating colors except for Lieutenant Trace. Good luck!”

The rest of your morning is spent coordinating with the Navy Liasion. During your lunch break, you head to the hangar and help your team as they work there. You pick up sandwiches and drinks for everyone and drop some off for Adam and Lea. You reach the hangar at 1:30 and use your credentials to let yourself in. Unsurprisingly, the hangar is a hive of activity. Amy’s marking down placement points near the bathrooms with a measuring tape, and Katie’s getting a vanity plugged in and organizing her equipment.

Meanwhile, Seb and Kris are testing the lighting. A large swath of the Hangar floor is as yet empty. A clear path has been left from the hangar doors to the open area. The open area is where four F/A-18A Super Hornets are going to sit. You call your team to grab their lunches and catch up with Amy on her progress. It’s your first time delegating so much of the admin work to Amy since she’s the newest on the team, and you’re ecstatic with her progress.

She’s gotten everything organized, including the food and beverage deliveries. When a pair of workmen back in a truck containing the backdrop and the changing rooms, you supervise as they build them and place them where you want them. They’ve just started assembling the backdrop when your phone rings. You step into the afternoon sunshine to take the call. It’s the Navy Liasion. He’s calling to inform you that the squadron will be landing shortly. Sure enough, you can just hear the engines as you hang up and bolt indoors. Amy’s just sending the workmen on their way as you help your team clear the open areas of the hangar and stand near the open hangar door. 

You can feel the thrum of the engines as Four F/A-18As fly in formation and finally land in all their glory. They’re beautiful machines. You can smell the stink of the jet fuel and feel the heat from the engines as they roll into the hangar. The next moments are full of frantic activity as the flight crews help ensure the jets are safely landed. Once all the furor has died down, you finally reach where the aviators have descended from their jets. They’re examining your team's work with eagle eyes that dart to your person as you step closer, your heels echoing as you make your way to the jets. 

They’re even more gorgeous than their pictures indicated, even sweaty with helmet hair as they are. As one, they line up in front of you and salute, introducing themselves with their rank, full name, and callsign. You can hear Amy and Katie’s giggles from behind you as you introduce yourself and your team. The entire time you lay out the plan for the following day, you can feel a set of eyes boring into the side of your face. All the aviators are staring right at you, but Lieutenant Seresin makes you feel like squirming. His green eyes stay on you as you show them the different areas in the hangar and explain the order of the day. Thankfully, they leave the hangar shortly after you tell them their call time for the next morning. 

A couple of hours later, everything is ready to go, thanks to Amy, Seb, Kris, and Katie. The corner near the bathroom has two changing rooms set up. Nearby are spaces for the racks of clothing and the makeup station. It will be perfect for the photoshoot you have in mind. The concrete floors are a little chilly, so you text Lea and ask her to add some of the rugs from storage to the truck. You send her a snap of the current layout so she and Adam know what they’re walking into the following morning. You know she and Adam will pick something that complements the gunmetal gray of the planes and the clothing they’re selecting. Before long, you and your team are packed into the back of two Ubers and heading back to the studio for the final part of your day, evaluating the clothing Adam and Lea have picked.

You’re satisfied as you head home that night. Your team has done an amazing job, and the only thing you have to do is pack your cameras and lenses. You carefully wipe and pack each lens and each camera, working as quickly as possible since you have to be at the hangar with an early 6 AM call time. Amy’s picking up the coffee and breakfast deliveries at 7, and the Squadron will show up at 8 AM sharp.

When your alarm goes off at half past four the next morning, you feel barely rested. Your hair is a bird’s nest atop your head, and your eye bags could put a raccoon to shame.  But you’ve got a busy day ahead of you, so you gulp a scalding cup of coffee and walk zombie-like into your shower. Forty-five minutes later, you’re dressed in a smart blouse and pencil skirt with heels on your feet and bleary but ready to face the day. You’ve thrown your hair into a French braid snaking down your back and left your makeup and jewelry simple to avoid causing unforeseen sparkles and shadows when Kris and Seb turn the lights on.

Your team has just reached the hangar when you step in. All the lights are on in the early morning haze, and you’re immediately swept up in the preparations. It’s like you’re needed everywhere. You only get fifteen minutes to lay out your camera equipment and hook up the cameras to your laptop before you’re pulled into last-minute adjustment after last-minute adjustment. It feels like barely any time has passed when the aviators swagger through the open hangar door. They’re dressed in khaki uniforms, each holding a hanger with a leather flight jacket.

Adam and Lea direct them to leave their garment bags on an open rack, and you’re off to the races. You start with individual shots of each aviator with their plane and then against the backdrop. You’ve cued up a playlist of Top-40 hits, and you can’t help humming along as you snap away. As expected, it takes a bit for the aviators to warm up to being photographed. Two, Lieutenants Bradshaw and Seresin, take to posing for the camera like a fish out of water. Lieutenant Fitch follows shortly after them. Then all you needed to get Fanboy to cut loose was get him talking about his favorite tv show. You don’t mind the onslaught of Star Trek facts and figures because Lieutenant Mickey Garcia is adorable once you get him smiling and dancing to the songs playing. 

That leaves you with Lieutenants Trace and Floyd. Lieutenant Floyd goes next, and the first thing he does when he sees you holding the camera is blush. The bashful look on his face makes a soft squeal slip out of Amy’s mouth, and you side-eye your assistant with your fiercest glare to get her to chill out. Thankfully, Lea drags her away to help with some of the clothing. There’s no need to make the sweetheart even more uncomfortable. Much like Lieutenant Garcia, you try to get him talking. And it works, at least until Lieutenant Seresin opens his mouth and says,

“C’mon, Baby On Board. A pretty girl’s taking your picture, and you can’t even smile? This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, at least for you. You should enjoy it while it lasts.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising at how rude he is and are about to open your mouth to tell him to get out of your field of vision when Lieutenant Floyd does it himself.

“Why, Bagman? Are you afraid that if I start posing for real, all the girls will dump you as fast as possible for me instead?”

You have to stifle your giggles as Lieutenant Seresin blinks wide-eyed at Lieutenant Floyd before walking away. 

“That’s a great idea, Bob!” Lieutenant Trace is never one to leave an opportunity to cheer on her WSO.

That’s what breaks the ice between you and Lieutenant Floyd. You feel his solo plane shots have turned out better than the others. The final aviator in uniform to photograph is Lieutenant Trace. But no matter what you do, you can’t get her to loosen up. 

“Alright, everyone. Let’s take fifteen. Adam and Lea, can you get the Lieutenants in their formal wear while I finish up with Lieutenant Trace?” 

That clears the gentlemen away and leaves you and Lieutenant Trace by the planes. That’s when you finally see a fraction of the tension she holds in her shoulders drain away. She’s still standing stiffly but no longer in full parade rest. You turn the music up, put on ABBA, and pray that the music finally gets her to unwind. It takes a bit, and Lieutenant Bradshaw, now wearing a navy blue tuxedo, wiggling his hips to the beat but unwind she does. He gives you a wink before shimmying away. You can see the rest of your team laughing as the aviators pull out their silliest dance moves. 

After finishing up Lieutenant Trace’s final uniform pictures, you leave her in Lea and Katie’s capable hands and start taking the solo shots of the men. They’re all dressed in navy blue tuxedos with white shirts and shiny black dress shoes. There isn’t a tie in sight, and the jackets are perfectly tailored to their figures. You can’t help the impressed looks you give them and mentally note to compliment Lea and Adam later. Everything is going well until you start to see slack-jawed looks where the lieutenants had been smoldering into the camera. You turn and grin satisfactorily as Lieutenant Trace steps forward. Lea had selected a gorgeous crimson and burgundy gown, and Katie had chosen to leave her hair in loose curls. You’re not surprised at the boys’ awe. She looks breathtaking and like her callsign in all its fiery glory. The contrasting color combinations as she joins the boys look fantastic in the pictures. 

The final set of pictures happens after a lunch break. The gentlemen are only too eager to slip off their shirts, though you can hear Bob pleading with Lea to spare him. You wish him luck, as you know from experience that Lea’s not one to give in easily. The only other aviator who looks discomfited is Lieutenant Trace. You pull her aside.

"Lt. Trace. How would you feel about doing a shot wearing just one of the men's jackets, some heels, and jewelry? You don’t have to wear one that one of the guys has worn today. Lea and Adam brought plenty of spares."

"Please, call me Natasha. And no. I'm not doing that."

"Natasha, I have a feeling I know why, but would you tell me?" Her shoulders surround her ears as you try to reason with her.

"I'm not going to wear that just to act as the sole piece of eye candy in this group. I got here by working just as hard, if not harder, than all of them. I won't negate all my hard work with a pin-up pose on Navy propaganda."

"Thank you for telling me that. I'm not going to pressure you into doing this. But, I would like to bring one item to your consideration. You think taking a picture like this will negate your hard work. Doesn't that negate your inherent sense of femininity? You're a fighter pilot. Yes. One of the best of the best. But you're also a woman. And to me, that's one of your biggest strengths. Girls walking into Navy recruitment offices deserve to know they can be kick-ass officers and beautiful too.”

You take a breath, cataloging the emotions flitting across her face.

“I'm not asking you to do this shot because you're beautiful. As we both know, you are. I'm asking you to do this shot to show the world that you can be one of the best and still be feminine. Be strong and delicate. Sweet and savage. I want you to show the world that serving your country doesn't mean you have to only act like men. Women can serve and do everything that a man can without compromising anything. Be it their looks, their career, or their femininity."

Your words have resonated with her. You can see the figurative light bulb go off in her head as she resolutely nods, gathers up the skirts of her gown, and walks right towards Lea like a woman possessed. You grin and proceed with taking shots of the others. But this time, it’s Lieutenant Seresin that you’re having problems with. He’s stiff like his charm has melted away. You switch to the others and finish their shots easily. Even Natasha stuns in just the oversized blazer. You take a break and review the pictures on your laptop. They’re all perfect. You’ll need a day or so to clean up any small defects, but other than that, they’re exactly what you were looking for. The Navy will be pleased with the results, you hope.

You just need this one set of pictures from Lieutenant Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman, and you can finally go home and take off your heels and bra. Your irritation grows as you attempt to take the pictures you need five times. Your groan of exhaustion and irritation is far longer and louder than it should be. That’s when you start dismissing your team and the Daggers.

“Head on out, all of you. We have to clean up the hangar by the day after tomorrow when the Daggers leave. I will finish up these photos with Lieutenant Seresin, and we should be following you shortly.”

The Daggers all scramble to change, and it's less than half an hour later when you say farewell as the Daggers and your team file out the Hangar door and close it behind them. That’s when you’re left alone with the one man who’s been driving you crazy all day. You try, futilely, to get him to pose how you want, but no matter what you say and how you move him, the pictures don't turn out like you want them to. 

Partway through the latter half of the photo shoot, you'd switched to having all of the Daggers standing against the backdrop. You're regretting that decision now. 

You're done, and the blonde idiot is just standing there and smirking at you. In the studio light, you can see every ridge of his abs and the downy hair dotting his torso. You kick your heels off and let your hair out of its braid. After so long in the tight braid, it feels great to let your scalp relax.

You stalk up to Lieutenant Seresin and grab hold of his arm.

"Right. Let's make this easy on both of us. I will position you how I want you, and you won't move. Okay?"

"Darlin', just tell me to jump, and I'll ask you how high."

And now he's trying to flirt with you. Great. You roll your eyes and position his head and arms as you want him. This close, you can smell his cologne, the cedar and plum scent wafting from his skin. It's an expensive scent that is ever so inconsistent with his personality. Thankfully he doesn't fight you as you position him. 

You could cry. You're so relieved. You are finally getting the needed pictures, and Lieutenant Seresin is cooperating. His eyes still track you as you stalk barefoot back and forth from the laptop to the lights, all with your camera in tow as you make small adjustments. But you don't feel their weight as self-consciously anymore. 

In the final pose, you press on his stomach to get him to straighten his back, and your entire world seems to freeze. His abs are taut, the light dusting of hair soft against your fingers as you glance up at his face. His lips are bitten red as his eyes peer into you. It's electric being this close to him. Something is yearning in his eyes when you step away and take the final pictures. 

Your face is hot as you walk back to the table with your laptop and examine the pictures. You're exhausted, but you've finally done it. Of all the pictures, Lieutenant Seresin's looks the best. His photos exhibit strength, passion, and raw sexuality, exposing a stripe of his taut torso and dog tags. 

"Damn, darlin'. I knew you were a good photographer when I looked up your work before we flew to New York for this, but I had no idea how good you were. These pictures. They're something else."

You startle at his voice, emanating from near your ear, and jolt out of your seat. You nearly fall, but he catches you, steadying you with an arm wrapped around your waist. You gulp as you’re pressed against his chest. He's so close that you can count the flecks of gold swimming in his green eyes. You can't keep your gaze from trailing over his face, from his eyes down to his lips, and back up again. 

"Sweetheart, tell me if I'm reading you wrong, but it looks like you want to kiss me. And I know I want to kiss you. I have since I saw you for the first time yesterday."

You can't keep yourself from nodding at his words. But he's watching you like a hawk and catches your movements. So it's hardly a surprise when he trails his other hand up your side and pinches your chin before slanting his mouth over yours. 

He kisses as he flies, you think. Precise and pointed, each brush of his tongue against your calculated to make your cunt clench and throb with need. You're wet, embarrassingly so. He doesn't pull away until your lips are swollen from the rough kiss. 

Your chest heaves as he traces his finger across your lips. He's got a smug smirk on his face. You pull away from him, carefully selecting your video camera from all your camera equipment, and return to his plane. You turn on the lights, dimming them until there is just enough light to throw the area in the jet's shadow in relief in your camera, hit record, and beckon him to come to you.

"Lieutenant, it's been a bit since I've had some fun. What would you say if I suggest we make a movie?"

His grin is salacious as he lets the leather jacket fall to the ground and tugs you back into his arms.

"Baby, it'd be my pleasure."

Your answering laugh transforms into a moan as he kisses roughly down your throat, paying special attention to your pulse point. His talented hands trail up and down your waist, nimble hands rucking your blouse up from your skirt until he can finally touch your bare skin. Your moans as he traces patterns across your ribs are muffled in his kiss.

"Jake."

Your voice is breathy and high as you try to get his mouth back on yours. But when you look at his face, something is commanding in his gaze.

"Take your shirt off, baby. Let me see what you're wearing."

You tug your shirt off, thankful there aren't any buttons or ties to impede your progress. Jake’s groan at the sight of the lace covering your breasts sends goose bumps over your skin.

His voice is reverent as he walks around you.

"God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum."

He stops before you, pressing his thumb between your parted lips. He dips it in until it's wet with your pooling saliva and drags it down your throat. His finger drags over the soft flesh of your breasts, leaving a cool, damp trail as he pays special attention to the peaks of your nipples. 

He continues walking, stopping at your back and dragging you in until your back is flush against his chest. He positions you with both hands until you're centered with the camera. He keeps up a filthy litany of praise as he carefully uses his thumbs to drag your bra cups down, sending your tits spilling free. His hands immediately find their way to fondle and caress them, calloused fingers kneading and squeezing until your hips are canting unconsciously, searching for additional stimulation. 

His smile is filthy when he finally pulls you away, intertwining your fingers with his and leading you to his plane.

"Put your hands on my plane, baby. And whatever you do, don't take them off."

You can't resist your soft moan as you do exactly what he says after unfastening your bra. You can't see his face, but you can feel his lips in the hollow behind your ear as he grinds his stiff cock against your ass. 

"Stay there, baby. Gonna take these trousers off so you don't get in trouble if we make a mess."

Your nipples are pebbled in the cool air as you wait for Jake to return to you. You can hear the clink of the belt buckle and the rustle of fabric as he drags the garment off before padding back to you. His hands trail teasingly over your sensitive skin as he brackets your waist. His thumbs rub soothingly at your waist as he peppers kisses across your bare shoulders. Jake then carefully drags the zip at the back of your skirt down and eases it off your hips.

It pools to the ground at your feet, and you shudder at the feeling of his hand on your ass as he collects it and sets it on a chair in your line of sight. He's gorgeous. You can see every line of his muscles and the bulge of his erect cock in his boxers. The only thing you're wearing now is your thong. He slides the flimsy lace off, and that's when you feel his breath across your hole.

"Oh, baby. You're so wet. Wet for your Lieutenant, huh?"

He blows a stream of air over you, and you can feel your hole clench at the sensations. 

"What do you want me to do to you, baby? How do you want to cum? On my tongue? On my fingers? On my cock? You gotta tell me, sweetheart."

Your voice is breathy as you babble, "All of them, Jake! I want your tongue, your fingers, and your cock. It's been so long since I came. Please!"

He kisses your shoulder before kneeling and burying his tongue between your thighs. Each brush has you practically sobbing with pleasure. It's been so long since you came that it's only a few minutes before his tongue brings you to the brink of your orgasm. You're already chanting his name, your moans echoing through the hangar.

"Cum," he growls, his mouth still sealed to your cunt, and you're only too happy to comply, your hands scrabbling for something to squeeze on as you ride out the waves of your orgasm on his tongue.

He pulls away after a few minutes and turns you around. His mouth is on you instantly, nipping at your breasts before he kisses you hard. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh as you sink to your knees and free him from the constricting fabric.

It's only fair that you return the favor. So you start with kitten licks flicking across the head of his cock. Each tender pass of your tongue has him moaning. It's not long before his hands find their way into your hair, holding the loose strands in a ponytail at the back of your head. You use the extra leverage to begin deep-throating him in earnest. You use as much suction and saliva as possible, moaning wantonly as he fucks your mouth. His pants and grunts send heat pooling into your cunt as he approaches his orgasm. But before you can convince him to come on your tongue, he jerks himself off over your tits, spurting his release over your skin in hot thick ribbons.

There is a feral look in his eyes at the sight of you like that on your knees, and Jake lopes over to your cameras, carefully grabbing one. He drapes his dog tags around your neck and carefully snaps pictures of the pearl necklace he'd given you. He lays the camera onto the chair before coming back to you.

"Do you still want me to fuck you?"

"Yes." Your consent is less words and more a cock-drunk mewl, but Jake interprets it correctly.

"Can you get on all fours for me?"

You're only too eager to comply, positioning yourself under his eager hands as he takes his spot against your ass.

"I don't have any condoms, baby. How do you want to do this?"

"I'm on the pill, Jake. Please, fuck me. Fuck me raw."

He groans before pressing himself inside you. The slow drag of his big cock as it presses into you has your pulse racing. Jake keeps the pace purposefully slow, using his hands at your hips to hold you still as he deliberately fucks into you. It's so good that each press has you screaming, and you've long since reached the cliff of your orgasm. But what Jake's giving you just isn't enough. That's when you start wiggling your hips to meet his thrusts.

The first heavy smack of his palm against your ass has you freezing completely, caught in the pain-pleasure-pain sensation his hand is wringing out of you. The second has you moaning, your pussy fluttering around his length. His groan is near musical as he continues to smack your ass. Each smack brings you closer to your orgasm, and you're practically begging for it now. You wail when he begins to fuck you again in earnest. His balls smack against the hot skin of your ass as you finally let yourself cum. 

Your orgasm is so strong and intense that you black out. When you come to, you're cradled against Jake's chest, his hand tracing lazily over your back. You're both still under his jet. You prop yourself up on his chest with shaking arms and groan at the sensation of cum dripping out of you. It’s several long moments before you rise carefully on wobbly legs. But the sight you see when standing has your cunt clenching in need again. Jake’s torso is now covered in droplets of the mixture of both of your cum. You grab your camera and take a picture of that too.

Jake grins as he collects the bundle of your clothes and follows behind you to the bathroom. You can’t help the gasp leaving your lips as you see yourself in the mirror. He’s marked up your decolletage, and now is when you can feel the painful sting in your ass. 

“God, baby. Let me take a picture of your ass? It looks beautiful. You can see my whole hand on it.”

You groan as he presses a kiss against the sore cheek before positioning you and taking the pic. All you can see is the globe of your ass, the handprint, and the cascade of your hair down your back.

“Are you sure you didn’t pick the wrong calling, Jake?  You could’ve been a fantastic photographer if you’d chosen to.”

“Oh, I’m sure, darlin’. I love flying too much to regret my decision. And flying brought me to you.”

You grin before beginning to clean yourself up. Jake can’t resist kissing you, and you can’t resist kissing him back, either. Before long, you’re all clean and dressed in your underwear, blouse, and skirt again. Jake even has your shoes and chivalrously kneels to slide them onto your feet. He’s back in his trousers, this time sans the leather jacket. You can’t resist trailing your fingers across his skin and wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him. But you have to break away from him. You only add to his current look by slinging his dog tags around his neck.

Back in the hangar, you’re packing up your cameras after ensuring your home movie is saved when the door to the hangar opens. It’s a security guard, and you’re glad he didn’t pop in earlier.

“Hello, miss. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything is alright.”

“Yes, everything is fine, officer. I just finished a photo shoot with my last client, and we’ll leave shortly.”

"Alright, miss. We have to restrict access to the hangar at 11 pm. It's about 9:30 now, so finish up and head on your way."

You can hear Jake opening the curtain to the changing room behind you and can see the Officer's position stiffen as he catches sight of the medals on his breast.

"Sir, apologies, I wasn't aware that the client she mentioned was military."

He's falling over himself, and you can see the smug smirk on Jake's face as he grins and walks the officer out. You can't help grinning as you finish packing your lenses and begin unplugging your laptop after saving all the footage you’d captured today. You know Jake is back when you feel an arm wrap around your waist. You lean easily back into his expensive-smelling embrace and can't resist sagging against him for a few moments.

"It's been a long day, huh, darlin'?" He presses a kiss against your jaw. "Let's get you packed up and home."

You smile at the new, softer side of him and kiss his jaw.

"I'm all packed up. Walk me to my car?"

"'Course, sugar. Give me your camera bag. D'you need to check on anything else before we head out?"

You pad over to all the electrical outlets, hitting the switches on power strips to ensure nothing is still on. The final place you check via phone flashlight is the area under Jake's jet. You're wearing all of your clothing. You just want to make sure you haven't made a mess with your extracurricular activities.

"I cleaned it all up already, baby. It was when you were knocked out after your orgasm." 

You startle, having grown used to his presence over the past few hours.

"Then let's head out?" 

You relinquish your camera bag to him, keeping your oversized tote on your shoulder as the two of you stride out of the hangar. You lead him to the small parking lot to the side and pop the trunk for your car, thankful you'd decided to drive to the airfield. 

"Let me give you a ride to your hotel. It's the least I can do after keeping you so late."

"Darlin', I should be thanking you. I haven't cum like that in a long time."

You've seen the man completely naked and writhed in pleasure at his touch. You shouldn't be so flustered in his presence. But you can't explain the catch in your breath as he opens the driver's side door for you before loping around to the passenger side and settling in. Everything between you and Jake doesn't feel like the aftermath of a hot frantic sexual encounter. It feels like a date.  You feel light and easy as you cruise back into the city. The silence between the two of you is comfortable. It’s not long before you drop him off in front of his hotel. He presses a kiss against your lips before swaggering in. And you head home to your small New York apartment, feeling the ghost of his presence as you go.

The next morning, you’re glad you chose to work from home because the first pictures you edit are the ones you’d taken of Jake and the ones he’d taken of you as well as your home movie. You can’t resist fingering yourself as your moans and his grunts spill out of your computer speakers. You don't have to do much editing there, but you carefully load the incriminating footage onto two flash drives — one for you and one for him. The photos for the Navy, too, are edited in no time flat. 

It's in the afternoon when you head into the studio. When you get in, you're surprised to see all the Daggers, your boss, your team, and two Admirals waiting for you. Your boss runs the show, introducing and greeting them before the floor is ceded to you. You show the assembled guests the pictures you'd taken for the Navy. 

The pictures are well received, especially the photos of Lieutenant Trace. You wink cheekily at her as Admirals Simpson and Mitchell praise the juxtaposition of those shots. As you show the last picture, you can finally breathe. Your boss is proud, especially as the Admirals turn to her and approve the pictures. But you have one final set of pictures to deliver.

"Lieutenant Seresin, apologies. I found this in my bag this morning. It was lying in the changing room when I looked through it to ensure everyone had taken their things. It must've fallen out of the pocket of your flight jacket."

His smirk is salacious as he accepts the flash drive from your hand, apologizing for leaving it there. You hand him a note, too, and leave the room. You would pay to see the look on his face when he sees what you’ve written on it.

Jake -  Thanks for last night. Call me the next time you're in New York. I'd love to do it again. It certainly was a photo finish. XXX - XXX - XXXX

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern 🎥 @dakotakazansky 🎥 @bobby-r2d2-floyd 🎥 @roosters-girl 🎥 @sarahsmi13s 🎥 @bradleybeachbabe 🎥 @lovinglyeternal 🎥 @roosterforme 🎥 @horseshoegirl 🎥

[muffinrecord]

Almost done with this micro liveblog

This is another near-throwaway line that still seems interesting to me. I dunno if this is a cultural thing, but I don't think it's all that unusual to handwrite recipes? My family still does that. It's easier to reference a piece of paper than to run back and forth between a computer and the kitchen, and you don't need to worry about getting flour on the tablet. Additionally, it's nice to have the physical copy in case the lights go out, not to mention the feeling of having a secret recipe that gets handed down, kept hidden in drawers or under the microwave.

But the thing is, Iroha isn't even saying that kids automatically type all that sort of thing on a computer. The truth is that she has no idea. It's a guess. She assumes by default that she's doing it wrong, that she's an outsider, and that she doesn't have it right.

I mentioned earlier that it's weird of her to say that she disliked her previous self and that she thought she had this weakness she needed to accept. I wonder if it's less a specific incidence and more a general unease that she's doing something wrong that sets her apart from everyone else. Yes, she doesn't like her previous self. And she doesn't like her current self. And maybe her present self (until she finds people who accept her for the way she is).

I think this is one reason that Mikazuki Villa works the way it does. It's full of lonely people who found in each other a place where they belonged. Some cases are more obvious than others-- Sana and Felicia don't have a family to speak of really, and Yachiyo's put up a shield between herself and the world. Tsuruno might seem outgoing at first but it's really a cover to hide her fears and concerns.

Anyways, I just really liked this line. Some of Iroha's quotes feel so "nothing," like the cooking hobby one. But I think lines like this one are a good way of showing depth in a character without being too obvious on it.

[iraprince]

Hi i wanted to know if, as a full-time artist, you have any stretch routines that help reduce pain in ur hands/wrists/back etc

yeah!! so, my stretch bible for years has actually been.... a splatoon-themed wrist stretch poster made by the artist captainhanyuu???? you can see it here! i know nothing about splatoon but i just find it really memorable. i do a more thorough version of this where i do the finger curls (bottom left exercise on the poster) in every possible position (palm up wrist flexed towards me, palm up wrist flexed away, palm down wrist flexed towards me, etc etc).

as for remembering to do this stuff regularly: trying to set alarms with my phone or the clock on my computer usually just doesn't work for me. i find the notifications irritating, and i'm already used to ignoring my phone, so i dismiss them without thinking. recently i was recommended something called workrave, which reminds you to take microbreaks to let go of your mouse/tablet pen and look away from the screen for a few seconds every 3min, in addition to longer breaks every 30min. i've only used it for a day, so idk if it'll stick, but somehow it's been way more effective for me.

on that subject, it's not just your wrists; PLEASE remember to stretch/rest your eyes!!! at my age, my vision should have plateaued, but it's degraded severely over the pandemic bc of increased screentime/being stuck in my (very small) flat, so i often spent all day never looking at anything further away than the nearest wall lol. it's scary and i don't want it happening to anyone else! i've been trying to at least stick to the 20/20/20 rule: every 20 minutes, spend 20 seconds looking at something 20 feet away.

back pain i haven't been great at mitigating lol. i know it is extremely annoying to hear "have you tried yoga? UwU" but like genuinely when i remember to stay on the yoga wagon it does make my body feel really good. you can look up "cat and cow yoga" to see some poses that are easy and good for quick relief — but please don't overdo it and watch a few guided youtube videos if you can, it's possible to hurt yourself doing yoga poses if you just throw yourself in and imitate pictures!

[autumngremlin]

Medias I've used the most with my shifting journey (in a /pos way):

Tiktok: Accounts that have script templates is a MASSIVE timesaver if you don't know what reality you want to shift to (plus you can just delete stuff you dont wanna use) or too lazy to make your own. I've seen a variety between popular scripts to lesser known ones and even completely blank ones with just themes! I've also discovered GoodNotes through shifttok (which does have a paid subscription if you want to do more than 3 scripts, but if you like to have a digital bullet journal/scrapbook feel, it wouldn't hurt to try out/pos) along with how other people script which was interesting to me! The biggest puller for me personally is the art people make for/of their DRs as someone that does it themselves (and it gives me an excuse to gush over the person's art as a whole!)

Tumblr: Before I got back into shifting, I used to thread through the various tags for pngs/icons, banners and headers for my grimoire and my digital planner for college (and admire art and aesthetic stuff, along with info for said grimoire but that's unrelated). I even had to start a sideblog so I dont lose track of stuff I wanna use eventually. Tumblr also allows me to stay connected to my DRs by indulging in fics, fanart, headcanons, and other things that could trigger inspiration for a scenario (or an unintended memory/blip)

Amino: Yeahh I know it's not a lotta people's cup of tea. It takes some digging around to find some potentially useful stuff and if the community has a masterlist for it, there's divination shops/teams and free pick-a-pile readings! Some even submit script templates that you can copy+paste. I kinda just lurk around, do the daily check-in and keep track of angel numbers I've seen the day before for my spiritual journey but thats just me being me lmao

Pinterest: My other visual savior for scripting! I almost have a board for every reality I have a script for visualizing and refs for when I want to connect through making art. I know I can just download the images and add them to my actual script, but finding the stuff as is is enough work for me and I don't wanna spend more time scripting than I actually need to (and it makes sense for my adhd brain)

Notion: What I originally used for academics now houses a digital grimoire and a script hub. I don't remember what pulled me in to using it since I first started in 2019. I just became more obsessed the more I found out about how people set theirs up and make the layout as minimalist or maximalist as they wanted. I will say there are some limitations between using Notion on a phone vs. a computer or tablet along with the occasional hiccup, but overall it works effectively for me that makes it organized and pleasing to the eye

Etsy: Yep.. a place to shop. I used to splurge a ton on readings on there early in my journey (I still do every now and then now that I found some personal favorite shops) but you can also connect to your DRs without it being specifically shifting-related, like candles or wax melts— even a pin or keychain that reminds you of it somehow.

[noctilin]

Hi I’ve been such a big fan of your work, I know this is probably a question that may roll around a lot but how did you build the motivation to continue doing digital art. I’m a traditional artist and I see a lot of digital art in this age of course and yours sticks out to me allot I can see a fine resemblance and difference between the past and where you are now. (still remarkable art all together) I just get so lazy when it comes to it though because it all is so complex though it makes me want to get into it when I see your pieces. but I question where do you get that motivation from and why use an art tablet or why recommend one? Out of curiosity. :)

hi! thanks for the kind words and support! in regards to your question, it's funny because it's harder for me to stay motivated traditionally compared to digital and it's because of a few things...

i'm a very impatient person lol - a traditional medium that i do and that appeals to me the most is painting with watercolor. but setting up the paraphernalia, waiting for paint to dry, and cleaning up afterwards have been things i don't particularly enjoy especially when i don't have room to set up a dedicated studio. so working digitally saves me the hassle of all of that. (i don't even have room to keep my traditional drawings safely rip)

i have very shaky hands, even before i was diagnosed with CTS - this makes it frustrating to work traditionally sometimes. of course, it's not impossible, but it doesn't feel fun for me. working digitally lets me have a bit of comfort thanks to stabilizers and the fact that it's more forgiving when i make mistakes. i choose to work smarter, not harder these days.

i cannot afford the traditional art tools that i want to use in leisure - because of this, if i buy something, i will have to commit to it, which pressures me instead of feeling the fulfillment of creating and experimenting. whereas working digitally there's a plethora of free-to-use material and i can freely experiment to my heart's content. one might say, "buying a tablet and a computer is just as expensive though" which has some truth to it, but regardless if i draw or not, i already have a desktop computer because of the necessity in school and work. adding a $45 drawing tablet on top of that is less daunting than dropping $70+ on paints and canvases and brushes and whatnot that i'm not sure if i'll enjoy using regularly. not to mention the space it will take up. (see 1)

even if i occasionally enjoy traditional art (especially when i'm burned out digitally), i will always be a digital artist at heart - as you said, digital art feels a bit daunting because of its complexities, but that's what i find fun about it as well! the myriad of tools and combinations you can do with certain features are part of the joy of it. (but honestly, if you don't want all the complex stuff, you don't have to do it either! go draw with one layer yolo)

tbh that's the gist of it really! digital is just, where i feel the most Me, if that makes sense lol. if you feel really overwhelmed with digital then just start small, you'll naturally want to explore more of it once you take the necessary first steps to enjoy it. best of luck :)

[perplexingluciddreams]

Using the internet and technology with high needs autism

I have been trying to put this into words for a while, but due to the exact thing I am making the post about, it has been very difficult.

First of all, a short (ish - I am not the best at concise) background of me and technology: Used to play games on dad's phone, and later watch YouTube videos on family tablet (with parent restrictions). However, ability to navigate devices was very limited, and if something went wrong I just panic and give to an adult.

We used computers a bit in school for work and educational games. Every time we went to the "computer area" I would cry because I knew I wouldn't be able to find the webpage on my own, or sign in to something, or type in a word document. At these times in school, usually another pupil would just sigh loudly and then come and do the computer thing for me over my shoulder.

I had an MP3 player that I got for I think my 8 or 9th birthday. The only thing I knew how to do, was play music and google search. But I still didn't really understand what a "link" was, or how to find important information. We were supposed to learn online research skills in school, but nobody ever explained the most simple stuff to me, so I lack the basic knowledge.

I got my first phone at age 10. This was when I also first get Instagram, my first social media (parents set up for me). I was in a group chat for my school year, but the only time I put a message there is when mum asked me to ask a question, about a non-uniform day for example. Nobody interacted with me in there, and apart from the messages I don't know how to navigate the app. I posted a few pictures a few times, but only when someone else recommended, and I didn't interact online.

I have poor language comprehension, slow processing and take longer to learn new skills. My computer skills and especially typing skills are majorly behind my peers. I have slowly learned some skills allowing me to be even on Tumblr in the first place, but I still need a lot of support and it makes me very anxious. Part of my difficultly on social media, is the social interacting part. Mostly due to low interest.

But my biggest challenge is poor comprehension. I get very anxious and upset when I come onto Tumblr and all the posts I try to read don't make sense to me. Especially when the post is about a topic I care about - if I read it and I can't know what people mean, then I will just be very upset for the rest of the day.

Second biggest challenge, not being able to express opinions on important topics. Often, I can't even understand something. Then, I can't form an opinion because it's too complex. Or, I have an opinion, but I don't understand if someone agree or disagree with me from what they write.

I work so hard to gain skills and learn enough to even be here, and then all I can find about people like me is other people arguing about our existence. Want to express my frustration at this. To even write this post I had support from mum, and it takes all my mental energy.

It is true that I have low interest in socialising - direct impact of autism. So social media maybe not best place in the world for me, by default. But I still want to understand and be included. Not be treated like place to just ask "am I counting as high support needs". I don't understand even my own needs enough to answer this for myself - I definitely can't answer for anyone else.

A lot of my challenges, come direct from autism. That's just a fact. Wish it was easier, very often. But also wish it was easier online - I can't be part of outside community, only online.

I post here to express thoughts and feelings, that is also just what this post is doing. I did less big big edit on my words this time, wanted words to be closest to how I think it (don't think in words so not possible to show abstract thoughts direct, but closest to first translation).

[deuxcherise]

Breakin’ Dishes

C/w: Breaking dishes, unhealthy behavior, dubcon (?), manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome (?), married shenanigans, hair pulling, the dom here is short for domestic (LOL), fluff (?)

A/n: So I was listening to Breakin’ Dishes by Rihanna lately, and I think I wanna write about a brat. So this is kind of a scenario based on the imagine I wrote a day ago.

Masterlist | Lore

It was a mistake on your husband’s part, leaving you all alone at home like this.

THUNK! TINK! CRASH!

You throw another dish onto the floor, watching it break into a thousand pieces with a demented grin on your face. Shattered pieces join the rest of the broken porcelain.

You’ve been at this for the last thirty minutes. Why? Well, for one, you were stuck inside your house without a single key to get outside.

You've already tried the windows, throwing a chair at each one. Multiple times. They were fitted with reinforced ballistic glass, the same kind of material the government uses for cars transporting presidents. Courtesy of your stupid, controlling husband.

You have always been an indoors kind of person, but secondly you were spiraling from the lack of entertainment. No TV, no phone, no tablet, no computer–not even a game console.

“Those will pollute your mind,” your husband said, before he chucked them into the garbage can outside.

Yeah right.

You had to admit you understand the mindset for everything else, considering how controlled public information by the AI and whatnot, but as for the game console, your stupid husband was just jealous over your obsession with some handsome-looking enemy boss in one of your video games. You know it!

Remembering how much money you saved up to buy those games all going down the drain makes you chew on your bottom lip in frustration. The more you think about this injustice, the more the flames inside of your roars. You snatch some more dishes from the cupboards and smash them before stomping on the ground, wherever was clear of shattered porcelain, multiple times as you shriek your lungs out to the living room.

“I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU! I'M GONNA DIVOR-”

“(Y/n)?”

Your voice leaves you as you slowly turn towards your beloved husband, who has just gotten home from grocery shopping. He sets the grocery bags down on the kitchen counter and comes over to wrap his arms around you.

You make a show of keeping your hands on his chest and pushing him away, but he knows you're just frustrated with him right now with how much strength you're putting into this. Much different from when he initially trapped you in this house. He has a little scar on the underside of his left jaw, from when you swiped at him with your nails.

He smiles at your cuteness and leans down to get his ‘welcome home’ kiss. You turn away. He shifts his head, and you turn again.

“Sweetheart?”

You turn your head again.

“(Y/nnnn)~ Gimme kiss. Kiss kiss.”

“Mm mm!” you hmphed, continuing to evade his kissing attempts.

“(Y/n). Give. Me. My kiss.”

“N-nyo! No kisses for you, stupid.”

He gathers all of your hair with one hand and pulls taut, forcing you to be still. Your eyes widen in shock before giving him a very displeased expression. That hurt! Now you definitely won't get any kisses! your face seems to say.

You can tell he's trying to keep a serious expression on his face, by the trembling of his lip and quirk of his brow, before it eventually breaks out into a grin and a chuckle. He pecks you on the lips before resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you, (Y/n),” he whispers, eyes full of adoration for you.

“I don't,” you snap.

He jerks at your hair, a warning. His smile stays on his face, but his eyes become a bit darker. “Hey… that's not nice, sweetheart. Say it back.”

“Say what back?”

His other hand playfully slaps your butt, making you flinch and almost moan before you swallow it immediately.

“Say you love me back, sweetheart.”

Of course, you love him. He's your YAN, literally designed for you to love and be loved by. Eternally. Everything he does is to win your affection. To understand you in all the ways another human couldn't possibly do. His existence depends on you.

But with the house arrest and destruction of your prized possessions, you're feeling less inclined to follow his whims.

“You love me back, sweetheart,” you repeat.

He chuckles and closes his eyes, shoulders quivering, before throwing his head back in laughter. Once he calms down, he presses his forehead against yours again, letting go of your hair to pull you close into a very tight hug.

“I do love you. So so much. I love you I love you I love you I love you. You know that, right?”

You purse your lips. “Yesh?”

“You know I had to throw it all away. I can't have your mind be eaten away by… indecency.”

Ah, so he knows what he did wrong but he's not apologizing.

“What? All of my games are PG-13!” you retort.

“One of them wasn't… What was it? Gold Seelie?”

“Golden Sphere,” you correct him. “Only because of the violence. It's not like I was going to turn violent and start killing people!”

“Oh… Really?” he teases, looking over your shoulder, most likely at the broken dishes on the floor.

“Your fault,” you spit.

He scoffs. “Sweetheart, we're both adults,” he says with a condescending tone. “You shouldn't be blaming others for your tantrum.”

“Your fault,” you insist, crossing your arms.

"(Y/n), we both know that's not true."

"....."

He hums, contemplative. “M’kay. My fault. I'm sorry, (Y/n).”

“For what?”

“I'm sorry for taking away your video games.”

“And?”

“And?” he repeats, confused.

You struggle to turn yourself around his tight embrace, facing away from him with your back to his front. Those who get it, get it. Those who don’t, don’t get any kisses. “Hmph!”

“I'm sorry for… taking away the TV and all of the other electronics?”

That isn't it. “Hmph!”

“I'm sorry for… locking you in the house? It's for your own safety, sweetheart.”

You still feel annoyed at that, but that's not it either. “Hmph!”

“(Y/nnnn). Give me a hint. Please. I can't stand it when you're mad at me and I can't do anything about it.”

You sigh. “... Stupid, we're married, aren't we?”

“Yes? Happily, I hope?”

“And married couples are supposed to do everything together…”

You could practically hear a lightbulb go off above your husband, much to your satisfaction.

“Ohhh. Were you lonely at home without me? Did I take too long? I'm sorry, (Y/n). Must’ve been boring at home without me. I’ll take you with me everywhere from now. I love you~”

He litters several kisses on the back of your head and neck. You giggle from how they tickle, grabbing onto his arms.

“Hey,” he pauses, “You still haven't said ‘I love you’ back yet.”

You hum playfully.

“(Y/nnnnn).”

“Hehe, I love you,” you finally said, turning your head to give him a kiss.

----------

[Extra]

You push the broom and dustpan into his hands. “Your fault,” you state.

He chuckles, taking the items out of your hands. “I know. I’m sorry. Anything for you as long as you don’t divorce me.”

You purse your lips and squint your eyes, humming contemplatively.

A look of horror appears on his face. “S-sweetheart!?”

[herotome]

Devlog #124

Hi-ho, Wudge here!

Here's some peeks at the expressions I've been working on! A big thank you to the folks on KO-FI for tying my hands to the tablet your support!!!

For anyone unaware, I will draw and dedicate an expression to you for every 6$ I receive. I'm normally very averse to sitting still and drawing expressions, so it's my way of... gettin 'er done, so to speak.

As you can see, the first expression is donated to CosmicRhythm, and the other two will be in honor of ~somebody else~! I have several more expressions on the docket... Wish me luck lol.

I'm trying to go in chronological in-game order, which is why these first expressions are mostly for Warden - I have some Mia expressions stewing away as well. [edit: put up one of them!] Then it'll be Griffin and Jade's turns!

Dart... Dart, my sweet angel, already has all the expressions he needs for now. But idk maybe I'll go mad and add expressions to that lunch CG. You never know with me.

Art aside, I've been writing here and there and trying to get organized. Touched up my outline and am feeling much happier with it.

Another reason I've been happier, writing-wise.... I got a new keyboard!!! A QWERKYWRITER keyboard, highly recommended by a friend! It is INCREDIBLE, it feels so good to type.

I wanna say to any new writers: using a cheaper keyboard now will definitely improve your appreciation of a fancy keyboard later. Gosh.

I personally would not invest in a fancy keyboard unless I have developed some decently regular writing habits - which I have - and god when you know for sure you're going to use it a lot and you use it it is simply incredible. Wonderful wonderful product, thank you to my friend who recommended it.

My set-up has become much more ergonomically sound, too.

I developed rather nasty wrist pain a while back because my keyboard was frankly too high - my desk was too high to type on directly, and I couldnt adjust my chair height without banging my knees on the bottom of the desk!!! It was a bad time! I have since made adjustments. Work is more enjoyable and literally less painful. Muy bien, now.

Anyone out there who's on the computer a lot: don't you shrimp pose! Sit straight for the health of your back, okay? No shrimpy back curls! I still struggle to sit straight a lot of times but we can do it together.

Alrighty thats it for now. Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2024-07-29

Undisclosed reasons

Listening: Protodome does cute chiptune jazzy stuff. It's good room-filling music

Reading: among other things, rereading a significant chunk of Questionable Content. I dunk on QC a lot so I'm not going to here. It's a comic I care about a lot and that I read because I like it, even if it no wait not doing that. Yeah despite the enormous revolving cast it manages to be pretty well plotted on an arc-to-arc scale even if between arcs there is almost no continuity.

I haven't reread much of QC in a long time and I don't think at all since I moved out on my own which makes it stand out as a very different kind of thing. While I had friends through high school and university, we didn't exactly hang out, whereas I do occasionally just have a random friend over at my apartment or find myself hanging out on an odd weekend.

Watching: Nothing really, bleh.

Making: Got the core features of LuaLED up and running! If I don't lose focus for weeks at a time again it should actually be a useful product soon!

Revived a couple laptops that have been between operating systems and kicking around the house. Currently typing this on the ARM tablet because it's finally in a position to be used like a normal computer. It's a little slow but it handles my normal tasks great, I was using it to flip through photos and read QC.

Speaking of Photos, went out to take photos around Nuselsky Most (keyboard isn't set up for accents sorry) near Vysehrad. It's a pretty dead area at street level but there's a huge concrete bridge crossing the valley that adds some texture, I've been trying to come up with interesting photographic assignments to improve my architectural photography and I figured trying to capture something that high up was going to be interesting. That was only yesterday so it'll be a moment until I dump those photos out and get some up here.

Playing: Paradise Killer! Paradise Killer is mostly pretty good. The main gimmick of Paradise Killer is the extremely hands-off investigation system. You have an assistant computer that tracks all your relevant facts, categorizes them a little, and helps you see whether you've exhausted all your dialogue options with someone, but you really do just have to dig around the island looking for clues or you can end up in a situation where you just never find a particular clue.

The fact that it tracks loose-ends for you does soften this somewhat, if you've still got a ton of loose ends it tells you where to tug, and I think getting rid of that might have made the game more interesting but it's a good accommodation towards playing it over more than three days like I did.

Because of how the investigation is structured, you have to really put in the legwork to find out the full story, it's very easy to feel like you've probably got everything on lock with a couple odd ends but then you find a new clue and suddenly the whole shape of the case changes.

There's also the aspect of mechanical friction. The game is really does not make anything go quickly. Menus are intentionally clunky, interfaces are slow and full of animations and confirmations that can't easily be tabbed through, fast travel is involved and costly and requires planning in advance, resources are plentiful but ultimately limited and if you're not careful you absolutely can spend yourself to empty. It's a little bit of internal commentary on what you might do if you have to design a place where you can live forever.

I think if you like mystery games, or catchy city pop, it's a good game to check out.

Tools and Equipment: You can dramatically increase the fineness of a rough mushroom chop by whacking them with your palm or the flat of a blade and then chopping.

[foxymoxynoona]

guys I got mega mega hacked yesterday with remote control software. I suspect it piggybacked onto my computer from some video game mods I downloaded this summer, but my brother-in-law suggested it may have been lurking since I bought my laptop as a refurb from BestBuy over a year ago. The person was able to access both my emails and set up filters to hide the email alerts, my amazon, and make a third party charge with my credit card. Because they were using remote-desktop, I wasn't getting alerts about unuathorized sign ins, and they were able to skip 2FA phone alerts anywhere that email was supported for 2FA. Based on the filters they set, I do know they had 3 purchases planning and I interrupted before they completed the third (amazon, antonline, and pixel.)

I got a credit card text alert for the $1500 antonline order but thought it was spam, so I went to my computer to log in and check whether the alert was real, then watched with shock that someone had my secondary email open and was typing in a 2FA code and I had no control of the cursor. I immediately turned off my computer and used a different computer to go in and change passwords, flag fraud charges, lock down accounts and freeze my credit cards. After a period of time passed, we turned the other laptop back on and began running scans --we found remote desktop hackware, and 4 other "Severe" threat programs after running every type of in-depth scan possible. I spent the whole night changing every password and deleting old accounts and confirming 2FA to my phone specifically.

I had a home burglary years ago that caused lasting emotional trauma which this elbowed again. The fraud charges suck but it's the impact on my kids and the invasive feeling that sucks even more. Changing amazon email/password broke my kids' accounts on their tablets and the refresh wipes over a year of their game data, which is upsetting for them. There's the emotional stress of knowing these assholes had full unhibited access to my accounts but also to all my personal stuff --my writing, my family photos, my medical record logins. I know they don't care about those things but they where there.

If not for my husband telling me to check email filters, I would not have realized they accessed my gmail. Without the security checks, we would not have found the hackware and it would have kept happening without me understanding why.

Please use this as your universe reminder to review your passwords, run security scans on your computers, and make sure 2FA is set up for important accounts that cannot be bypassed if someone gets acess to your email. <3 <3 <3