#But when I was going through my normal editing process and looking up the definitions of common words that I use regularly

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 13-- Leaves

“This is so exciting,” you gush, tearing the sticky label off of your brand-new rake. You take a moment to appreciate the sharpness and the straightness of the tines— they won't stay that way for long, if experience serves you. “Our first fall together! And we have our very own yard to rake!” It's a strange milestone, but as far as you're concerned, it's a milestone all the same.

Saeran grins at you, endeared. “I'm looking forward to it,”  he assures you. “Though it's going to be new for me.”

You shrug. “It's really not that difficult,” you announce, “At least, not from what I remember… I’m pretty rusty, too. I haven’t had to do this since high school.” You’ve been living in the middle of the city for a while, and though you’ve gotten very good at sweeping the balconies of various apartments, you haven’t had to seriously worry about leaves for quite some time now. “But I did learn to rake leaves in elementary school, so maybe it’s one of those skills that sticks with you, like riding a bike.”

“You were doing chores like this when you were that young?” Saeran asks, surveying the yard. It's not too bad— the big tree near the garden has just started to drop its first leaves, but you figure that if the two of you make a day of it, going out and collecting all the leaves every week or so, the task won't become too big.

“I mean, I was trying,” you shrug, “I wasn't very good at it, but I had a lot of fun raking them into little piles and jumping in— we could do that, too, if you want, but there might not be enough leaves yet, so we’d have to wait until the tree really gets going.” 

“That does sound like fun, darling,” Saeran admits, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning his attention to the yard. “How should we start?”

To be honest, with all of his gardening experience, you were surprised when Saeran first told you that he'd never raked leaves before, but the more you thought about it, the more sense it made— as Ray, he was allowed to tend the gardens at Magenta, but there were other believers officially assigned to the task, and the grounds there were so sprawling that Rika likely would have considered it counterintuitive to have him spend so much time away from his computer when someone with fewer responsibilities could easily have done it. Of course, even if you didn't understand, you wouldn't say anything about it to Saeran— your general philosophy is that he can tell you what he wants to when he wants to, and that can be that. It’s his decision what he wants to share with you or keep to himself about his time at Magenta, and you won’t press him for any more than that.

“Well, what I like to do is to rake one horizontal line— maybe up by the flower beds?— and then do vertical lines the length of the yard to finish it up. Then we'll have a long pile of leaves that we can just rake onto a tarp or into garbage bags to add to the compost heap— after we jump in them, of course.” You use hand gestures to aid your explanation, which would probably be a bit confusing without them.

Saeran nods; he seems to understand regardless of your erratic explanation style. “Of course, my love. Let's do that.” With the two of you working, it doesn't take too long to clear the yard of leaves at all. Perhaps your childhood memories of entire afternoons spent cleaning up leaves were slightly exaggerated in the depths of your mind—  or perhaps you've just grown a lot since then. Maybe it's the fact that you have help— regardless, you're happy that you can share this moment with Saeran. 

Once all the leaves are piled up, you take the liberty of flopping into them with a thud. “Okay, you know what, honey? That wasn’t as fun as I remember it being.” You’re laying on your back amid the leaf pile, which is really more of a leaf area— there aren’t quite enough leaves yet for a proper pile.

Saeran, who apparently has much more common sense than you do, lowers himself down into the leaves by your side at a much more controlled rate. Consequently, there is much less thudding involved. “I had fun,” he assures you, “Since I got to spend time with you.” 

“Spending time together is always nice,” you agree, staring up at the clouds. You don’t need Saeran to tell you that he’s also cloud gazing— you can just tell. “Even if we’re doing chores.” 

“Mhm,” he agrees. “No matter what we’re doing, I’m happy to be by your side.” 

You reach over to squeeze his hand, though your train of thought is quickly derailed by a passing cloud. “That one kind of looks like a mug, doesn’t it?” You point with your free hand. 

Saeran examines the cloud in question. “It’s more like an elephant,” he decides. 

“An elephant?” You can’t help but laugh. “No, there’s the cup part,” you trace the outline in the air, “And there’s the handle.” 

“That’s the trunk, my love,” Saeran argues good-naturedly, “It’s clearly an elephant.” 

“No, babe, it’s obviously a mug,” you retort, “It’s making me want hot chocolate.”

“Hm,” Saeran considers the cloud once more, “It still looks like an elephant, but I won’t complain about hot chocolate.” 

“We probably have to get up, then,” you groan, rising so that you’re propped up on your elbows. “Would you rather hold the tarp or rake the leaves onto it?” 

“I’m fine with either, darling,” he assures you, “I’ll be thinking about hot chocolate the whole time.” 

“Alright, whatever you say.” You grin. You’re probably going to be thinking about hot chocolate, too. 

#Fun fact in the original draft I referred to the tines as “the pokey bits at the end of the rake” #And tbh I almost left it like that because I didn't know they had a name #But when I was going through my normal editing process and looking up the definitions of common words that I use regularly #I thought why not look up “the pokey bits at the end of the rake” so here we are #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #MM_mystictober2023

[milknhonies]

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 5 || MasterList || Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: You get the ultimate privilege of meeting Nicholas Tortano who grants you the ability to surprise August Walker

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Sexual tension, P in V intercourse, fingering, petnames, dubious consent, hate sex, rough sex, gun violence, threats with a gun, forceful handling, belittling, manipulation The reader vomits and is kissed briefly at some point. Mentions of dacryphilia, sadism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: .I dont honestly know but it's definitely more than 6k

Author Notes: the chapter and editing process was very rough I'm very sorry full stop my life has been in a business because I'm trying to find a new place to live and I've started going to the gym and missing out on a lot of sleep. I'm about to pass out which is why I'm posting this now. Again sorry for any mistakes granrma and otherwise

Inspiring Song: "girl with one eye " Florence and the machine. (Yes I know it's a sapphic song- I sing it like every day but let me have this pass to add it in)

08:09am Monday 19th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane.

'What the hell is she thinking?'

Henry shook his head as he reached the complex exit and walked out onto the street to the waiting car.

He wanted to smirk but the frowning scowl would not drop from his face.

'If I was anyone else, God what I'd do to her-' his hand clenched the passenger side door handle hard and slammed loudly behind him. His eyes shut and his head tossed while the car swayed and rocked.

Jude, his driver and loyal friend smirked, “You must like this one...or is there a pile of meat up in that apartment that I need to fetch? I can call Riggan the pig farmer in the Lockyer Valley, anything left over he can throw in Wivenhoe dam.”

August sighed and chuckled, "She's alive and well. No sweet treat for Coles piggies...but...I need you and Wesley to look into the Pig she has been accompanying."

Jude smiled and leaned over, clicking the button of the glove box compartment. Inside was a yellow envelope. August's eyes fluttered before his face broke out into a grin.

"You are a fine friend Jude," he said as he plucked the envelope and spilled the printed notes out onto his lap, "Do you ever sleep? Jesus mate."

The raven hair man giggled and started the car to a silent hum.

As the driver put a hand behind Augusts car seat and reversed the car out onto the main roads he smugly said, "I take pride in investigating, especially bastards like him."

August's fingers flicked through the pages of graphic intel. With racing eyes he soaked up the words and photos. Lloyd Hansen...an absolute moron. His nose flared at what he was reading. He grit his teeth. Especially when he recognised a name in bold he hadn't thought about in at least half a decade.

"Well, well, well, he's got kittens for sale," August scoffed.

Jude hummed, "And meddles in the dogs pack, it would seem little Nicky is out of the jailhouse."

Both men smirked. But August was by no means pleased.

He was grumbling to himself. You were now sticking your toes into the deep end of the pool without floaties and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to catch you in time for the dunk.

Entering his club, sneaking in with the detective, he didn’t think you were dumb enough to think you’d distract him... He read through your charade the moment his eyes laid down on you from above walking in with that man.

His eyes and ears were turning red.

It was tricky but thankfully he had the means to warning that cop not to touch what belongs to him...however how close could he really get to that bastard without potential outlash. He knew he needed to order another grandeur meeting. While everyone was in town, it might be his only opportunity.

When August forced you to watch the murder of the embezzler, he had every hoping intention that it would persuade you to never talk to the cop again. A normal undercover pig would’ve stopped the show then and there, called back up.

But there was no back up...no...there was only sweet little innocent you and your pathetic phone camera. If Lloyd was after information he would’ve wired you up...Lloyd wasn’t there for him...he was there for some selfish reason...

When you ran off and pulled the alarm a dozen things went through his head. You were going to get yourself killed if you kept running. So he chased you. If the other men of his circle saw August Walker hunting, they would have been inclined to hunt you down too. And if they caught you...they would have done more than rip your head off.

He couldn’t tell you. He wasn’t sure how. You were already distrusting and scared of him there was no way he would be able to explain all the details and with your pure heart, you wouldn’t understand his world and why his side of the fence did such heinous things.

But...he would keep you safe. He wanted to gain your trust while not mistaking his authority...he knew what he had done was traumatizing.

He was no stranger to rape. Especially the european parties...those special events where he would join his friends like Kenny Strong and Arthur Kingsley ran the highlife of elite gentlemen and some lucky women born into those elite families. He wasn’t entirely fond of the practice. He didn’t like to beat women, but he did love to tie them up and humiliate them to tears.

Something about crying made his cock hard- no, something about you crying did...

He made you cry and he tried to bend you to his whims...he had already begun the conditioning where you would call him Daddy to gain his affection and praise. It pleased him significantly. He would shield you from those terrible memories even if it meant torturing you into talking about them. Externalising, confessing, it was all a form of therapy and he knew he had finally cracked the surface of your mind. He wouldn’t break you but he would chop at you and cut the mould. He would heal you. He would rebuild you and give you all the happiness you could ever want.

Sitting back and shoving those papers into the glove box he licked his bottom lip in thought.

When he woke up that morning, he watched you sneak out of the room. He smiled and amused himself. He watched the cameras from his phone. You were in his room...now that was very silly...he watched you choose his shirt and his shorts. He bit his lip to hold back a laugh. You looked so confident but so ...innocent...particular. He watched you grab a knife from the kitchen, he half heartedly believed you were coming back to stab him.

When your hands reached for the glass doors he launched up. He hadn’t warned you about Kal and he knew that dog could rip a man up, probably kill you easily if his fangs cause your wrist or neck.

He wanted to spank you and fuck you hard until you screamed mercy for trying to run away.

Rather he chose a simpler and easier punishment, one you essentially consented to the night before. Watching you suck cock was an interesting spectacle. There was a certainty you’d never done it before or not that many times before.

As you gagged on his cock with those big beautiful eyes of yours, he imagined all the things he’d buy for you...all the things he’d do for you... You might’ve been on your knees but something screamed at him to serve you as a slave.

Jude broke the silence eventually. He smirked, “So, am I right? You like this one?”

August smirked back, “’Like’ isn’t a word I’d be using.” He was fucking obsessed.

09:06am Monday 19th August 2023, Woolloongabba, Brisbane

You didn’t make a call. You couldn't. August broke your phone as you recalled.

You showered and scrubbed your face until you could feel the slight peel of your skin. It stung, but it was better than the sting you felt from the memory of his cum over you...in your mouth. You brushed your teeth for probably fifteen minutes just to erase the muscle memory of his cock brushing the back of your throat.

You changed out of August’s clothes and threw them into the bin. You couldn’t take off the collar and it made you feel suffocated. The kitchen scissors managed to scratch up the leather but the metal ring that encased inside was too strong.

You shook your head and felt nausea rise in your belly again. Without any food, all that came out was bile and acidic spit. You fell to your bedroom floor and started hitting the carpet, awful noises of grief and need bellies from you. You felt strangled. You huffed and spat random threats and insults, pretending he was there to hear them...he...August or your father? It didn’t matter.

You clenched your fist and smacked your head trying to regain your thoughts.

You kicked your dresser and rose from the floor. You found your bus pass and left the apartment, walking out in some jeans and a loose tshirt with a pair of running shoes.

The bus trip wasn’t a far trip to the police station.

You didn’t have the intention to report the kidnapping. No, no...now you were pissed off. You were scorned more than once by men around you. There was only one person you could trust in this world.

“Hi,” said the administration clerk, “How can we try an help today?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes, 'oh bitch if only you knew.'

“I’m after Detective Lloyd Hansen, is he here?”

You needed to confirm if the man was still alive. When you pulled the alarm, things were run or die in that moment. You hoped the man had the wit to run instead of confront the mafia or whatever this criminal group was.

The office was feeling slower today. It was filled with idle chatter and coffee machines grinding beans and a printer scanning documents.

“Do you have an appointment today?” she hummed, tapping at her keyboard.

You blinked and your teeth sneered.

You almost strangled that worker with the telephone cord. No. You didn’t have an appointment.

You just wanted to see he was alive. To tell him you were alive...and to collect your fifteen thousand promised reward for your “services”.

Your hands uncontrollably slapped on the desk cause the admin clerk to roll a little away in their office chair.

“I want to see the detective, now.”

“It’s alright Sandra...I can see her...” Lloyd said behind you. You flipped around. He was coming out of a small cubicle.

He looked...tired...shocked...relieved. it was all over how he looked with his loose tie, bags under his eyes and the clench of his hands on some paperwork.

He slowly stood to you and guided you away from the service desk. He whispered, “The white corolla...I’m about to finish shift.”

09:14am Monday 19th August 2024, Sunnybank, Brisbane.

You remembered his car well. The day he drove you home, you were so scared and confused. That day you’d reported that August may have sexually assaulted you...that day he definitely did...

This time you weren’t waiting in the cold for Lloyd, the sun was hot and beating down.

He came jogging down the front stairs of the station and hastily unlocked the car.

You wordlessly slipped in and buckled up.

When he got in he slammed his door a little too hard. He pressed his face to the top of his wheel and swore softly.

“I thought,” he swallowed nervously and sat up to look you up and down, “I thought he really had killed you. I tried calling thirty fuckin times these last two days. What happened? Were you hiding?”

Two days....god...you had been gone, missing, for that long?! Missing Friday...return Sunday.

You shook your head, “I was the one who pulled the alarm Lloyd...he knew what we were doing...he was going to kill you. When I made a run for it like everyone else in the club, he managed to track me down...he...” you trailed off unsure if you wanted to repeat the actions, the words, the confession.

Licking your lips you said, “August Walker is a dead man walking...and...” your stomach started to growl, “I’m starved, and I’m sorry to be bitchy but you...you at least owe me a meal Lloyd.”

Two days...you had only a few pieces of chicken in two days. No wonder you felt like total crap.

Lloyd didn’t argue. He took you straight away to the closest fast food drive thru. You ordered so much and Lloyd didn’t dispute a single item. He settled for a simple burger, fries and larger soft drink.

Lloyd drove you both to the kangaroo point lookout, it wasn't too far from where you already live. You stared out at the city buildings and Brisbane River with a strained sigh.

You chewed silently on a nugget for a moment before you explained what happened. How you were caught, how you almost got away...

“Jesus,” Lloyd rubbed his eyes and sighed, “I...I think I...I’m sorry I took you for granted Y/N. When I left the building I search everywhere for you. I thought...well- I didn’t know what to think.”

You munched on a handful of fries, you didn’t care if you looked like a pig as you did it. Stuffing your cheeks full of a burger and then a massive gulp of an extra large drink. You swallowed and thrived off the heart burn aching in your chest, reminding you you’ve eaten too quickly.

You burped and then softly moaned, “I need to feel safe.”

“You need to move...Y/N please,” The begging in his tone was loud and clear. There was serious fear in Lloyd.

You wouldn’t submit to August Walker and you refused to run from him. You were now met with the choice...you were either going to destroy his reputation or literally destroy him....your blood pumped loudly. He made you talk about your father....your fucking father...and on top of that, he made you call him daddy.

What mind fucked you was how you were yet again able to walk away...not unscathed but definitely alive.

“No,” you dismissed unwrapping your second burger, “He will find me...I know he will...and even if he kept me alive both times, a third is pushing my lucky, I know you understand that.”

Lloyd shook his head at you and put his hand over your burger, stopping your next starved bite, he hissed “You think staying where you are is safer? You don’t know-“

“Lloyd!” You snapped, you slapped his hand back and shoved your pointer finger into your chest, you sucked down a shakey breath, “...I know...I do know. I need to protect myself when he strikes again...it’s worse now...I have too much collateral... He let me witness that murder in the club.”

The detective raised his brows at you, “You mean...” the blood drained from his face.

“Cameras were in the VIP rooms Lloyd,” you grit your teeth and glared at the view of the city buildings, “I saw a lot more than just a fucking man’s brains being blown out from his skull, hookers, coke... Auctions...he’s got it all in The Lion Lounge.”

The detective rest his fingers on his top lip. He was slowly nodding.

You sucked down a long drag of your straw and gasped, asking in the same breath, “Lloyd I want a gun. I won’t let him rape me again.”

You needed the protection from August or any man he sent to kill you.

Lloyd chewed his bottom lip and shook his head.

“Do you have a gun license?”

“Do I look like I have one?” you snipped. You knew it wasn’t fair on him for your attitude but you didn’t have the time to focus on his hurt feelings in regards to your mental health and physical safety.

“Have you ever even shot one?”

“Nope. But it only takes one shot to kill him close up.” You threw the wrapper out of his car window and rubbed your face.

If he didn’t come near you, he would be safe, and you could just work on collecting evidence for the courts.

The detective sucked his bottom lip and shook his head, “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh piss off!” You stomped your foot and twisted your body to face him, you grabbed his loose tie and tugged it as you seethed, “Lloyd, you practically thrust me into his arms and you have the gall to say now, me owning a gun is ‘too dangerous’?”

He gently grabbed your wrist and pulled his tie out of your fingers as he shook his head at you. His nose flared and he started to raise his voice at you, spit flying from his mouth as he hit the wheel with the palm of his hand. You expected a detective to hold a little more composure.

“Fine. Fine! But are you really willing to go to prison for life if you do manage to kill him? Think about this logically.”

His eyes were wide and his brows twisted with worry.

You fell quiet. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to stamp your foot again and scream that you’d spend two lifetimes behind bars if it meant his demise...except...was your demise worth the cost of his? Would you drown with him in the end of all of this if you killed him.

You noisily sucked at your straw.

“No...” you whispered, you didn’t want to cry in front of Lloyd but your tears were coming up, beading in the dips of your lids.

“No, that’s right,” Lloyd rubbed your shoulder with his thumb, “He isn’t worth it.”

Your lip pouted, “Why can’t you just...arrest him.”

He sighed and rubbed your back as you started to break down into pathetic frustrated sobs.

“Lawyers, laws and money,” he whispered and fluttered his eyes shut, “He has his ways. The only way we can take him down is if he is caught doing the hefty, big crimes. If I could’ve gotten the proof of the weapon dealers he would’ve been considered accomplice to the crime.”

“S-so if...if you..” you wiped you snotty nose on the back of your arm, “If he was caught on camera...he’d be sent to prison?” You started to laugh mechanically, “What if...what if I let him rape me. A nanny cam on my night stand or something?”

The office shook his head for the dozenth time, “By the law that wouldn’t be considered rape...only a messed up porno, especially if they see you set up the camera.”

Your fingers aggressively clenched another handful of fries, you didn’t eat them, you just threw them back into the bag.

“...I...what do I do Lloyd?” A fear of hopelessness tapped your brain.

He was quiet for a solid minute. He stared at you all over. You knew the bruise on your face was visible. He kept looking at your cheek instead of your eyes. And his gaze fell down to your neck. “It’s a collar Lloyd...he chained me to a bed for two days...”

His lips parted and with a impatient voice he asked, “Do you have a gym membership?”

“No? Why?”

He started his car and made you put your seat belt back on, “Okay, I don’t care, you’re getting one, right now."

Your eyes shrunk, “Why?”

Lloyd gruffly snarled, “Because I’m going to teach you how to fight.”

He would teach you at least some self defence. August might’ve been twice your size but if you could get the chance to get away...Lloyd would make sure you would take it..

05:30pm Monday 19th August 2024, East Brisbane Anytime Fitness Gym, Brisbane.

“Again.”

Your back hit the padded wall, your knees hit the floor as you cupped your middle and tried not to puke up the fast food from earlier.

“We have been at this for three hours!” You groaned, trying to use the foam wall to stand up again.

You were convinced Lloyd liked to beat you around, the red marks and bruises that were rising were the evidence.

“Until you can take me down,” Lloyd nudged you with his hand causing you to almost fall back down, “We aren’t leaving.”

You hissed angrily and stood up tall “Fuck sake.”

You held up your arms like he showed you. He started throwing his blows, you blocked him with your forearms and ducked away from his large swipes. He kicked your ankle and watched you crumble to the ground again.

“Watch your feet.” He scolded, “You are smaller and surprisingly speedy, use that to your advantage!”

You rolled your eyes and bit your lip. Getting to your feet you pushed up and launched your body at Lloyd who was checking out one of the yoga classes in the other room window.

He crashed to the floor. Your knees straddled his hips as you huffed with glee, “Ha! Home time!” your palms rested on his naked sweaty chest.

He chuckled and shook his head. He pushed you up by your hips. He shut his eyes, panting, “Again...then home time.”

You grumpily groaned, “Fine!” your ribs hurt bad and your knees felt swollen.

It was agreed by you both that if you needed to reach out you needed to use a burner phone or a payphone. Any calls or emails were going to be noticed.

When you felt the spray of the hot shower water at home, you cried. It felt good. You touched the collar still around your throat. Training to protect yourself reminded you the pain was worth it.

10:16am Wednesday 21st August 2024, Brisbane CBD

“Mr Luther, I’m so sorry for not calling in sick,” You wrung your hands in front of your boss, “Please forgive me for the unwarned absence.”

“Please!” He laughed heartedly, “I just assumed you were clicking some more photos!” He stood out from his chair and sat on his desk above you, “Did you hear about Walkers club almost burning down?”

Looking down at your lap, you reminded yourself that Mister John Luther was not a man included in the circle of trust. Nor were you convinced he understood the severity of the crimes the criminals he wanted to chase for gossiping stories committed. Your hand touched the ends of the scarf you wore, covering up the hideous black leather around your neck. You tried all morning to cut it off with a pair of scissors but you came to feel the metal circlet inside and gave up. There was a hole in one of the bottom cabinets where you had kicked in a hole...that was okay, you had an extra fifteen thousand pounds in your bank account.

You assumed Lloyd finally sent the money through.

“Did it?” you coyly asked.

“No clue how damaged the place was but the massive party was cancelled. The fire engines went zooming down this street Friday night.”

“What happens now then?” You glanced up at him and chewed the inside of your cheek, “With the smuggling case?”

“Put on hold for now,” he sighed and squeezed your shoulders, “I don’t have any sources about the next possible meet and greet. I was hoping you could keep the same production rolling. I have a new project involving a Nicholas Tortano. I want to get an interview with him.”

You didn’t recognise the name at all. Your fingers pinched at your long sleeve shirt. “An interview?”

Luther nodded, he winked and went back to his desk draw, slapping out a manilla folder.

He rubbed and clapped his hands, pushing and opening the new case to you.

“He has a history of his employed persons going missing. He has criminal history ties with Irish gangs and the italian mafia. I have a page of questions, I would like someone to ask him.”

You cleared your throat, “Me?”

Wagging his finger the elder man laughed, “No one has quite the balls as you deary...”

It sounded...Too dangerous.

“In that case,” you shuffled forward in your chair, “Can I be paid upfront for this job?”

You would not die at the hands of one gangster when you had your eyes set on another. Luther almost looked like he was going to tell you to get the fuck out of his office until he looked at your photos of August you’d taken. He was quickly reminded you had the best skills and to lose you would be suicide for his paper... You were the best thing to have happened to him. He accepted.

You sat in your work cubicle and aggressively jabbed at the key pad of your work phone. It’s not hard to find phone numbers. Nicholas Tortano had a nickname, “The Black Dog.” He was caught by paparazzi coming out of court a few times. His business empire related to charities. He was a philanthropist with a dirty history of crime connections. He had only been found guilty of third degree murder but many news articles in the past twenty years all labelled him as a omen of death, because anyone that had done him wrong was found dead not too long after...

You found the phone number and took a lucky gulp. There wasn’t an address for any business so if no one picked up, you were worried Idris might fire you for that mere disappointment alone.

The phone rung out once. You dialled again, the receiver picked up. You held your breath.

“Hello, Tortano and associates, who is calling?” the masculine tone soothed out.

“Hello, my name is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m a journalist from the local paper. Is there a chance I may be able to book an interview with Nicholas Tortano?”

There was a steady silence and a soft hum, “What does this pertain to?”

You rubbed your eyes and looked over the notes Luther had given you in the folder, “....People think he is ‘a mass murdering psycho with a thirst for crime’, I’m hoping to ask him some questions to seek the truth.”

“How ludicrous,” the man chuckled, “I am a gentleman. A businessman. Not a criminal.”

You strained over the phone as you spoke to the secretary, “I am sure but this is in regards to Mister Tortano.”

The phone went quite again, you thought maybe you’d lost the connection.

The sweet condescending waved through the sound, “I am he...are you free today for lunch?”

With widened eyes your voice caught in your throat. You felt like an idiot...you never imagined he would answer the call to his own company. CEOs never answer the call of a civilian first hand...

You cleared your throat and nervously clicked a pen, “I am, where would you like to conduct this meeting.”

You could hear him click something too. He sounded warm, and inviting on the phone, “Do you like Italian? Have you ever heard of Vapianos?”

A tiny smile touched your lips. When was the last time you were asked out to lunch? Your eyes rolled, for fuck sake, this was a job...not a date.

“I don’t mind it.”

11:54pm Wednesday 21st August 2024, Brisbane CBD, Vapianos.

Nick Tortano had invited you to a side of town with skyrise buildings. The Vapianos restaurant was on the bottom floor of some massive buildings.

You wrapped your scarf around your neck again. The leather was tight around your throat. It was like he was there with you...holding you...as you cried over a father that you loved and hated.

You shook your head and looked down at the notebook and piece of paper you were given by Luther.

You looked around at the tables and the waiters. The place was sparkling with a quality of...the wealthy and corporate. The palm leaves, the tinted glass windows that raced from floor to ceiling, the champagne glasses on a nearby table. It was all glorious decoration.

All the people there were beautiful...not a single appearance that resembled you...a pauper.

The awkward steps you took towards the receptionist resembled a weak lamb. You felt stupid for being there.

The server looked you up and down and it caused a sting to any confidence you had left. You touched your scarf.

“Hello, I’m looking for a Mister Tortano we have a meet-”

A hand glided across your back, you jumped a little and became confronted with a pair of dark brown orbs and handsome white teeth, “Hello, Miss Y/N.”

Nicholas...he was tall and wearing a simple sweater. Despite his causality he held an air of regality. Not to be overly romantic but you felt he would be a stunning prince if he was a royal member.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve had them set a table already.”

He held out an arm to you.

“Not at all,” You flushed and happily accepted it. You tucked it around and let him lead you carefully to a table. There was a set of plates and two wine glasses.

“Just give me a second or two to set up, is it alright if I tape your voice?” you asked reaching into your handbag.

He pulled out a chair for you and explained, “I would prefer no tapes, but I’m not adverse to photography.”

It wasn’t an unusual request. Lots of people didn’t like the sound of their voice. He must’ve been one of them.

It didn’t matter, photos were more your talents anyway.

“In that case, may I take the photos first and then perform the interview?”

He nodded and flashed a bigger beautiful smile.

“Where would you like me?”

You pulled out a office camera from your bag, you didn’t have time to go home and grab one of your ten others. You started to turn it on.

“If you could look away from the lens, relax your shoulders, lean back and look like you’re thinking. No smiling.”

“Do I look ugly with a smile?” he cheekily asked.

You couldn’t help but smile. He was charming and flirtatious and incredibly handsome.

“Terribly,” you teased, “No, my boss would just prefer a little more seriousness I believe. To make the page appear professional...plus the topic regarding the article with a smiling photo you’d look like a madman.”

He nodded promisingly and fell into the pose. When he heard the camera clicked a small smirk pulled at his lips before quickly trying to compose his face.

When the photos were finished you stuffed the camera back in your bag. He relaxed from his falsified stern appearance.

Now came the interview. You pulled out the sheet of questions Idris provided. Under no circumstances were you meant to ask anything but these....except....the questions....well...they were...

“So, you...ugh...hold on a moment....”

How many people have you killed?

What is currently the cheapest drug you can achieve from your circle?

Are you a homosexual?

What the fuck?! You weren’t even sure if you were legally allowed to ask these questions due to discrimination laws.

“Um...I...”

He smiled at you from across the table. You felt a pearl of sweat forming on your forehead.

“Stage fright?” Nick asked softly, tilting his head. He snapped his finger and a waiter came over and poured water into two cups. A basket of breadsticks were placed in the centre.

“No, well...yes...um. the questions I’m meant to ask you I stupidly didn’t read before coming here...” your cheeks felt warm. The embarrassment rose fast.

“So they’re not your questions?” his eyebrows lifted. His finger traced the lip of his glass.

“They’re my boss’s but I said I would ask them.”

Nicholas' lips parted back into a smile, “Enlighten me, I will be less offended knowing they’re not from you.”

You smoothed the paper out on the table and pulled out a notepad, clicking a pen after finding the least offensive one you licked your bottom lip and stuttered, “How...how would you describe yourself?”

He sighed and held the cup to his lips, “Vain, rich with a dominating grace.”

Those weren’t usual qualities someone described themselves as, usually people preferred to remain humble and soften their reality. It was an interesting new perception to attach to Nicholas Tortano the criminal who covered his wrong doings with funding medicine for sick children.

You noted it and looked at the page again to try and find another less offensive question. Frantically your finger scrolled down all the words. Your heart started to pick up. These were so ridiculous and disgusting. Right I go the jaws of the black dog- that’s what Luther had done to you.

You shyly laughed, “hmm, I...let me...-”

Nick slapped the cup back on the table. His smile had fallen, “Politely, Miss Y/N I don’t like my time to be wasted...how about you hand me that piece of parchment.”

He reached over with lightning speed. He pinch the paper and dragged it to him.

“Hey!-”

“Now now, here’s what we will do,” he peaked up at you and licked his bottom lip, “I’ll answer these questions and so will you.”

You lifted your chin and looked at him cautiously.

“But they’re not for me.”

“That doesn’t matter, I can see you’re nervous darling...so...let’s break tension.”

He trailed his thumb down the page and sighed, “Let’s see...ah yes I see how these would make you less inviting to involve yourself.”

After a moment he glanced and smirked at the questions, god you could throttle Luther right now for letting you go through this stupid interview.

“How many years did it take you to be where you are now as one of the most notorious crimelords?”

You tried to put on your best smile, “...yesterday...I stole this scarf...” you lied.

“Why Miss Y/N you must be a terrible influence!” He feigned a gasp of horror which made you lightly giggle, “I don’t label myself as a crime lord. As over the phone I stated simply, I’m a business man...my business so happens to involve crime. I’ve been in this business since I was thirteen years old. My first offence was Car theft. That was almost twenty years ago.”

Your throat shut. He was in his forties!? The damn bastard had the option of early 30s or maybe 20s if he shaved off his stubble entirely.

He looked between your face and your hands, “Are you going to write that down or do I have to do that too?”

You blinked and jumped with a start of noting down the new information, “Oh yes! Sorry!” Scribbling quickly you watched him, watching you...he was staring...like you were...something unusual.

“How many sentences have you been charged with?”

You shrugged unsure why you felt ashamed to say, “None.”

The pen in your hand twirled as the handsome gentleman scratched his nose, “Too many...in all up it has kept me behind bars for nine years total but I’ve been in and out for years. I only returned to the public eye a month ago.”

“Woah,” you whispered.

Nine years? A month? You didn’t have a lot of time to research him considering the call for lunch was so quick and speedy.

His fingers tapped the table softly. He shrugged, “Its not as bad as tellie makes it out to be...in fact it’s a way to network well. You can learn lots of new tricks when you’re forced into tight confinement.”

You started to take dot points. It’s interesting...being in prison for nine years...not all together but all total. Making connections and friends inside prison didn’t really click at first. You always assumed prison was a scary and lonely cell where you had to pee in front of everyone.

Nick looked back at the page and laughed, he rubbed his mouth and shook his head, “Are you a homosexual?”

You also laughed but it was more a awkward shyness, “No, I think I’m bisexual if anything but strictly gay I’m not. I can’t understand why that question would be even asked, I’m so sorry.” You grit your teeth and looked away.

He tilted his hand and shrugged, “It’s vicious rumour that I’m a pillow biter...I am not a homosexual.”

Its all he said. And that was something you really didn’t like writing down...it was so unnecessary.

“What is currently the cheapest drug you can achieve from your circle? Miss Y/N don’t tell me you sell drugs?” he giggled and folded the paper back a little.

'Jesus Christ'Luther!!!...you really wanted me to ask that!?' Your fists clenched under the table.

You dismissed it and grinned, “No, I do not. Sorry to be so boring....you?”

“Paracetamol,” he answered, “I can sell you some right now, I like to keep some nearby.”

Anyone could sell paracetamol...he deliberately said that, you knew.

“After the interview I think I might just,” you laughed and rubbed a little at your temple.

“How many people have you killed?”

You gasped. Your chest was like a loud metal band concert with your heart as the instrument racked, you didn’t understand how that was possible.

“None.” Well...your father....maybe...Nick didn’t need to know about that.

The philanthropic crime lord aka ‘businessman’ remained totally silent. Your hand paused.

“Are you not going to answer the question?...”

He put the paper down and plucked the menu, he unfolded the cardboard covered in matte black and gold designs, he looked down at the wine selection, “I think you might need to do something for me to answer that.”

“What?” you wanted to say you’d do it. But why would you promise anything to a man with his bad record.

“I’d need you to kill someone. And you don’t strike me as a murderer Miss Y/N.” His dark gaze flickered up at you, “Now...what would you like to eat?”

You bit your lip. He’s definitely killed before, or else he would’ve just said no. He wanted to you to know he was a murderer...you knew because his eyes remained perfectly still as he said it. No tremble or lying shame in those pupils.

You sat forward and drank a bit of your water.

Perhaps meeting Nick wasn’t just a benefit for the paper gossip. Maybe he could help you...you heard his voice ask you another question, probably about the menu, you do not remember...instead your thoughts tumbled out of your lips.

“....do you sell weapons Mister Tortano?”

The question caught him off guard. They weren’t on the paper your boss provided.

“Weapons?” he asked cautiously.

Shit, you had gone too far now to recall your thoughts, “Would you sell a gun to a woman even if she doesn’t have a license?”

His eyes sparkled.

“Whatever would you want a gun for Miss Y/N?” he leant back in his chair and pressed his fingers to his lips.

You tried to explain, but it was hard. You looked over your shoulder. It was too public to be discussing this. You whispered, “... There’s a rat who won’t leave me alone. I’d like to scare him...”

His eyes narrowed a little at your speech. He knew you weren’t being literal, so he replied coolly, “Are you asking for a gun or pest control?”

You whispered again, “A gun.”

He fluttered, you could tell he was staring down your shit to check for a wire.and clapped his hands loudly. The entire restaurant went from idle chatter and laughter to utter silence...it was eery...like a dream or a nightmare.

Nick shouted at the top of his lungs, echoing off the walls, “Leave us!”

The entire assembly of guests started to rise from their chairs. They packed up their brief cases and hand bags. Abandoning the half eaten food and untouched wine and champagne. Your nose wrinkled. What the fuck... they were all heading to the stair well, ignoring the elevators.

You looked back at Nicholas, confused, wondering if he meant you to leave too...you pinched the table cloth worryingly.

“Have you thought it through?” Nick asked now that the restaurant was empty, and quiet.

“What?” you didn’t understand. The entire perception of Nick Tortano was collapsing. He was so powerful...all those people were his. All of them under his thumb...all of them so obedient...

“Do you intend on threatening or killing?”

You felt trapped by his words.

“That’s my business Mister Tortano, politely speaking...” how could you confess to your intentions.

It was bad enough that he knew you wanted a gun.

You wondered if there was any chance you you make a run to the doors and run away. You were stepping from one scary man to another at this point.

After a while of sitting ashamed in silence, he stood up from his chair. His fingers lazily brushed the table, until he paused in front of you. He dragged his hand under your chin. He made you look at him, standing above you. His hand violently tore off your scarf and he tutted, “Is he the one who put the collar on you? The man to cover you in bruises? Might need a better foundation darling...I’m not stupid. I’d like to know if it’s going to reflect back on me. What’s the chaps name?”

You didn’t like how personally close he was standing above you. You felt small and trembled beneath his pinning dark brown eyes...they were practically black like some soulless shark. His white teeth looked starved.

You lied again, “...Lloyd...Ha-Han-Hansen...” perhaps Lloyd could handle Nick? But how? He couldn’t handle August. You regretted saying his name but that was it...you threw the only friend you had under the bus.

“Hmmm can’t say I know him well...”

“He’s um...a lawyer,” you lied again.

He smirked and whispered, “Is he?” his eyes narrowed with a glint of mischief.

He flipped his cardigan sweater up, on his hip, inside tucked in his jeans was a scary black gun... A hand gun.

“Well I do hope you get what you want out of him,” he pulled out the gun and set it on the table in front of you, “Here, consider it a gift...I find your disposition incredibly pleasing...”

You glanced at the gun and felt a rush of something...adrenaline? Anxiety? Arousal? Something became alive...

“I need to go. I’m so sorry,” you rushed to stand up, you pinched the weapon and carefully tucked it into your hand bag, “I need to leave.”

This was too easy. Far too coincidental. Maybe this was your father's spirit watching over you?

“Until we meet again,” he chuckled and stood aside. You could hear his wickedly laughter as you fled to the doors. As the doors closed behind you, you could see in the distance, Nick standing by the windows smelling your scarf deeply. Your hand touched your throst and felt the jagged material. You weren't sure if you wanted to go back for the scarf. Watching him press his face into the soft material- the action was perverse...he was perverse...just like August. A mighty shiver rolled up your spine. You didn’t have time to worry about that.

You were filled with all the raw emotions of the last month. Anger, grief, revenge....

You now had a gun... The power to wield death easily. Now you just needed your chance.

You kept hearing Lloyd in the back of your mind...would killing August be worth your own life?

Especially life in prison.

You shoved it back and focused on the pain you felt, the agony as you cried in his lap under threats of his spanking. He wiped you when you used the toilet...he called you puppy...he forced you to cum and cry....he made you beg and suck his cock just to hold you...he treated you as a subhuman.

02:06pm Wednesday 21st August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane

You opened your front door, slamming it behind you. And as you started to slide the bolts and chains, you heard something down the hallway...a small crash? No? A grunt...

Angry eyes and a sneer grew on your face. You marched down, your father’s door was wide open.

And there the fucker was. August... Folding clothes into your father’s bed from a washing basket.

You saw red.

“Wh-what the fuck...get out!”

He lifted his head and finished folding a pair of your jeans, your head leaned back to your bedrooms opened door before you looked back at him inside your father's room.

“Your home is a mess,” He said nonchalantly, “I won’t have you stomping around in squalor.”

He had gone into your room and cleaned it. And on any given day, that would’ve earned a man a blowjob, not him though, no...he was in your space and invading your life too much.

With a flared nostril you snarled, “I am giving you five seconds to leave. Or I'll-”

He snickered at your defiant demand, “Or what? You’re going to call the cops?”

You didn’t want to kill him here...You dug into your hand bag and it felt impossibly slow and heavy in your hand. You pointer the gun at his head and fought the trembling in your body and your voice, “Or you’re going to choke on your own blood August.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t expect your display. He paused and continued to fold the laundry. You didn’t like being ignored and moved inside of your father’s room. It wouldn’t be the first time a man died in this room.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” He said without a single hint of fear.

You held the gun now in both hands. You stood strong and came closer around the bed.

You scoffed, “No, of course not, you manipulate me, drug me, hit me, and raped me but 'oh nooooo I won’t shoot you'?”

He smiled and shook his head slowly. He appeared so unafraid and that caused a spit of hate to hit your face. You wanted him to be on his knees, begging for his life, pleading for forgiveness while he pissed himself. This was not at all what you imagined, him folding the washing and sorting to find pairs of socks.

“One,” You said.

He sighed and threw your underwear back into the basket. He started to walk around the bed gradually.

You screeched, “Two, stay the fuck away from me!”

He stopped and raised his hands. Slowly he perched himself on the corner of your dad’s bed.

“Three,” you said a little shakily. He still didn’t flinch. You felt suffocated. Why wasn’t he scared?

You pissed in his lap when he pointed one at you in the club. This wasn’t fair.

Tears uncontrollably started to fall from your eyes. You didn’t want to kill him...god you hated him...but if he wasn’t going to beg you, you didn’t want to kill him. Especially in this room...besides ...what would you do with his body?

“F-four, don’t make me do this August!”

You moved closer and closer until the tip of the metal weapon pressed into his forehead.

It was now or never...“Pl-please, don’t...” you begged, hoping he would walk out of the room and apartment. You squeezed your eyes shut.

You pulled the trigger and screamed as you did it. The trigger didn’t move...it felt stuck. You pulled it again and nothing happened. You opened your eyes and noted how the gun hadn’t gone off and August was still happily breathing with a dark, sadistic grin on his moustached lips.

“Five...” he hummed and wrapped his palm around the barrel, pulling it up and tugging it away from your trembling hands, “your safety is still on, and...” He clicked off the top and sighed, “It’s not even loaded.”

You crashed to your knees and vomited right over his leather shoes. You weren’t prepared for the rush of exhaustion to hit you. Your body shook. Your fingers clenched the soaked carpet. The metal of the unloaded gun lifted your chin up. Tears ran down your cheeks beautifully.

“Tell me, did the piggy give this to you?”

Your swollen lips blubbered, “No!” Lloyd didn’t need any more wicked men following him around.

You shut your eyes and sniffled. Surely August would kill you. This must’ve been some sort of a strike three, yes?

“Then where did you get your paws on one of these?...” he bit his smile lip.

“A friend...” it wasn’t a total lie. Nick liked you, you somewhat found him intriguing. Yes you’d only met that day...but he was a friend now for a moment in your mind.

August pulled you up into his lap by your hair. Hot lips pressed into your neck and nuzzling your ratty leather collar, “You were really going to kill me...weren’t you?” he cooed as you started to sniffle and choke on your tears, “You pulled that trigger. I underestimated you sweetness...don’t worry. I won’t punish you for that.”

He cupped the back of your head, pulling you in for a big kiss. His lips soft, but his hand tight and filled with dominance.

You felt light. He was kissing you just after you vomited. Gross.

He pulled away and spat at the floor, he chuckled and pressed his nose against yours.

“In fact...I got you a gift.”

You whined and fluttered your eyes, “I don’t want a gift from you.”

You weren’t mentally prepared for any sick sexual torture he had in store for you. You could see his jaw shift and his eyes dash back and forth.

“Are you sure? I think you’ll like it.”

Your hands touched the collar hopefully. Maybe it was the key?

He slid his hands under your armpits. You heard your bag hit the dry side of the floor.

He lifted you with ease to your feet and pressed a hand at the small of your back, pushing you to the bathroom.

He was so huge compared to you. The lower ceiling made you have a flash of worry...what if he hit his head?

He was fine.

He turned on the shower and peeled away your clothes. He wasn’t rough, and he wasn’t leering...he was soft...and patient. He pushed your long sleeved shirt up and gasped at the sight of bruises Lloyd created from the gym. His thumb unkindly pressed into one. You whined and tried to step away but your ass pressed into the vanity sink.

He knew he hadn’t given you these.

“And who has my puppy been playing rough with? Don’t tell me you’ve spread your legs for someone else now...”

He turned you around slowly, inspecting the marks he had not made on your skin. His hands palmed over your flesh.

The steam from the shower began to whaf out. You tried to not imagine the water bill ticking up.

He pinched your bra off and watched your arms circle to cover your chest.

He turned you back to face him. Unbuttoning your jeans, he tugged them down and helped take off your shoes. He pressed his lips to a bruise on your outer thigh. The temptation to throw your knee into his throat was great.

His hand cupped the back of your knee. His nose was so close to your underwear covered pussy, you could feel his hot breath tickling your clit.

Your panties were gradually pulled down to your ankle and you used his shoulder for balance as you stood out of the flimsy material.

He stood back and opened the shower door for you. He left the bathroom door open and you didn’t want to risk a punishment for locking him out. He took your clothes to the laundry and heard him open your cleaning supply closet where you kept a mop and broom and vacuum cleaner.

As you soaped your body, the suds building along your skin and back you sighed. The collar rubbed against your neck. It was a reminder...

He was powerful. He was scary and you were risking death. You had just tried to kill him...at any moment he could bash your head in until your skull caved, no one would find you for days...maybe weeks...he said he wouldn’t kill you but that was before you pulled a gun on him.

You were angry at yourself...angry at Ben....why would the gun be empty?! Couldn’t Nick have told you that? Maybe he assumed you knew how to handle one...

August came back into the bathroom after ten minutes of cleaning. You didn’t dare to leave the shower in that time.

He was back. And now...he was naked. You uncontrollably worried and pressed your back into the bathroom tile. He stood into the shower, stealing the hot spray when it hit his back.

He was so hairy, and huge. He was like a bear.

You gulped and glanced at his dick. He was flaccid but you knew he could fuck you with a soft dick or just his hands alone.

He held out his hand and whispered, “The soap, please.”

Your hand shook as you shakily handed over the small white bar. It was the cheapest shit on the shelves you could find.

Now you regretted not spending the money you saw in your bank account. You would die feeling poor.

You tried to cover your nakedness. A hand between your thighs. You felt the bareness and cringed your face. He would’ve waxed you again or shaved while you were ‘in his care’ after the club incident.

The huge man started to rub the soap along his thighs and his arms and chest.

He smelt of your vomit...he cleaned it up for you...his clothes...you could hear the laundry machine.

He either was cleaning evidence or he was staying the night.

His face...was soft. He wasn’t angry...he was deep in thought... He was pleased. The faintest of smiles was on his furry face.

When he was finished. He touched your waist and pressed you to turn around him in the cubicle. Now the hot water covered your shivering skin. He rubbed some more soap into his hands and rubbed the bubbled into your skin. Along the back of your neck he rubbed and pinched. A tiny moan imminently slipped from your lips. You hoped he hadn’t heard it.

He did...

You knew he was gliding his hands down to your bottom and rubbing the darkened skin he planted when he spanked you. You hissed and softly swore as his thumb pressed in. A small threat, a warning? A reminder...

He touched you everywhere except your tits and your cunt...which shocked you as you braced from his hands every time they drew near those areas. The sense of denial played in your mind.

Your body felt warm...humming as it was teased.

He did touch the leather around your neck and tutted at the parts you damaged with scissors, where the metal you couldn’t cut poked out.

Turning the shower off, August opened the door again and guided you out onto the soft floor mat. He took a towel from the vanity draw and wrapped it over your shoulders like you were some kid at the beach.

He wrapped a towel around his waist. His body dripping and soaking into the edge.

You were poked out of the room and made to go into your room. Your dad’s door was still open however and that made you uncomfortable.

On your bed...was a box....

The gift...was an actual gift!? It was wrapped in white and gold paper with a pink tulle ribbon around it.

You shifted your towel around to wrap yourself in and looked between the man leaning on the doorway and the wrapped box on your bed.

He nodded to it. Open it. A silent command.

Your curled your lips into your mouth as you pulled the tulle ribbon away and scratched the paper back.

A deep gasp left your chest, “A phone?...”

It was one of the newest if the models you used. This type of phone usually cost three thousand dollars!

Behind you the awful man laughed softly, “For stepping on the one from the club.”

The tiny smile that was coming to your lips, disappeared. If he hadn’t reminded you of that night, you might’ve kept smiling. Your fist clenched. You were angry. Did he know how scared you were as you ran in the dark? Did he know you hated him even more because of this gift. This wasn’t a gift, this was a bribe...

Your jaw ticked and you turned on your heel, you held your towel tightly, “I am not saying thankyou.”

He chuckled at that and nodded, he tilted his head to the side and wagged a finger at you, “I swear every time I see you, you become twice as fiery.”

When he stood forward you got scared and tripped back and fell onto your bed. The phone box slid to the floor. Your heart raced. You noted how you accidentally flashed him as the towel fell from your hands.

He paused, not moving any further. He could see how frightened you were. And if you didn’t know any better...he didn’t want to scare you today.

His smile fell and he sighed, “Before I forget...your sex toy arrived.”

You crept off your bed as he left the door way. He was quickly back before you could make an escape.

He held a box and threw it to you. Without thought you let go of your towel and caught the box with the erotic images and product on it.

Stark nude and wet you stood. You turned away from him and put the box with your newly bought toy on the bed. You put your phone box beside it.

He was watching you with bird eyes as you tried to pick up the towel and cover yourself again.

“So let me see,” he hummed, he crossed his arms over his chest and clicked his tongue, “First you threaten to kill me,” he pushed away from the door, “You then attempt to actually kill me,” and he shakes his head chuckling, “and now I find out my cock isn’t enough to satisfy? Good heavens...have I neglected my greedy little puppy?”

Your hands lifted... Your towel was loose but you had tucked it to your body. You prepared your fighting stance like how Lloyd showed you.

“Get out...” you spat.

“No,” he smirked, “I will not.” He launched forward.

He grabbed your towel and you slipped from the material. You ran around his body, ripping his towel off as you ran out.

You slipped on water droplets in the hall and slid down the hall to the kitchen.

As he came around the corner, you flung a cupboard door open hard that smacked his hard in the face. You smiled hearing his painful groan.

"Fuck!"

He pushed it back and tried to grab you as you ran around the mini island. You threw his towel at his face as you made a rush back to your room. You managed to lock a chain and bolt on the bedroom door. You panicked and climbed under your pathetic single bed. You heard him behind the wood.

“Open up little puppy...or I’m gonna huff...” he said, “and then I’ll puff...”

When you made no sign of opening the door and remaining beneath the bedframe. The door burst open. The locks tore through the metal nook. He walked through. He nakedly crouched by the side of the bed and sighed at you curled up under your bed. He shook his head and softly smiled. He laid flat on the floor beside you.

“Watcha doin down there sweetness?”

You felt a breath escape you. A soft laugh. Was he fucking serious?!

“Hiding,” you mumbled into your wrists.

He fluttered his eyes shut. His hand rested on his Bare stomach.

“Well I found you, so you might as well come out. You’re black and blue. I don’t want to drag you over the carpet, don’t want rip up your knees pup.”

You couldn’t understand why he kept calling you that. You weren’t a puppy...you...you were human and you still weren’t sure how that pet name even fit you .

You knew he was right though, there was only way out and it didn’t matter. You would need to face him. If he wanted to kill you, nothing could’ve stopped him from strangling your throat. After a minute or two you finally gave in... Wiggling your butt from under the bed. He moved up to his knees. He watched you stick your head out and shimmy to the open air.

You knew trying to run out the door was useless and there was no other locks other than the front door. You rubbed your lips, staring at the broken locks and the door that hung off only one hinge...you really hated him...

His large soft hand rubbed your cheek and the back of your neck, cupping you closer to his body.

Both in your knees, he pulled you into his chest.

You pleaded softly, “Please...”

“Kiss me puppy,” he begged and looked down at your lips. You glanced to his eyes and shut yours as your pushed your face up.

He was gentle. His tongue poked Into your mouth and your lips closed. He kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip loudly. God it felt good. It felt hot and inviting. This kiss was like a deep hot bath or a cosy blanket. His hands squeezed your arms and cocooned you closer to his damp skin. You just wanted to wrap yourself in his body and sleep...except your body felt attacked by an invisible electricity, like a dozen bees rumbling down from your chest to the folds between your thighs.

Your could barely breathe.

When he pulled back he shuddered, “Are you turned on?”

You gasped, “No, why would I-”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m scared,” your nose twitched and your gazed over his chest, feeling his cock twitch against your belly.

He chuckled and shook his head, he pressed a hard kiss against your cheek, “Merely two sides of the same coin...”

You whimpered and felt his hands smooth down your ass to your thighs. He lifted you up and pushed you onto your bed. You were at the same height now. Him kneeling on the floor with your sitting on your bed.

“You are safe, trust me,” he kissed your lips briskly, “Say it.”

“I...” you hesitated, “I am safe...and I trust you.”

His thumb pressed under your jaw, he kissed you again, “Good girl. I am not going to hurt you...truly...I promise.”

He dragged his lips down to your chest. He sucked in one of your tits. His lips smacked as he licked and sucked around your skin, you felt strange. Dirty but in a good way. Your own back curled to push into his mouth.

He pulled up after one satisfying suck, “That felt good yea?”

“S-so good,” you stuttered. Your cheeks felt warm it was like you were drunk but you knew you had a full sober conscious..

“Would you like to feel that again?” he asked, his hands ran up your thighs, spreading your knees.

You sighed as his thumb licked at your clit. You rocked your hip a little and whined. Fuck it felt good.

“Answer me puppy”

“I- oh god- I want to feel that again.”

He kissed your belly and pushed you back a little. Your head thudded against the wall. Your hands shakily grasped some pillows and put them behind your back. Your gleaming cunt glistened...that was totally you...no lube...no spit....just your arousal alone.

“Look at this pussy.” He marvelled as he pushed two fingers inside. You gasped and let out a feral moan.

“It just swallows up my fingers...do you like my fingers fucking your wet pussy?”

You whined and but your lip. When you didn’t answer, he pulled them out. He started licking them lewdly as he waited for your reply.

“I...” Your hands covered your eyes as you moaned, “I don’t know.”

“Are you turned on?” he asked you again.

“Yes,” you admitted. You just wanted his fingers back there again.

“Do you want my cock?” He purred in a soft belittling time.

“Y-yes...” you almost sobbed. God admitting it now made yourself sick. How could you admit to that? Your entire goal was to kill him. Take him down. Destroy his reputation. But here you were.

In your bedroom, crying for him to fuck you with his huge dick.

He climbed on top of you and tugged your ankles over his waist.

You felt his hard head press into your hole. His cock popped inside and his hips started the deep defend inside of you. He held your hips, lifting you up.

“Do you hate me?” he crooned, his teeth gnawed at your earlobe.

“I do,” you growled, in his ear, “fucking hate your guts.”

He laughed and groaned, “You hate my fucking guts?”

“Yes, fuck,” you gasped and scratched the back of his neck.

He was stretching you out and you drowned in his touch. You felt his cock tapping at your special spot and felt your knees clench tighter around his ribs.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked despite being balls deep and jerking his hips into yours.

“Yes. Oh god,” you gargled as he decided to slam himself harder and faster. Your nails dug into his biceps. Your teeth were grit tightly. You kept swearing. It hurt and felt so good altogether.

“Who do you belong to?” he sighed, his eyes winced while your pussy clenched him tightly.

You grunted angrily, “No body.”

He punctuated with his jerking hips, “You. Belong. To. Me.”

“N-no!” You yelped, his finger curled under your collar and tugged up you neck until you were forced to put yourself up on your elbows. He slowed his speed but kept his deep entrance.

“Oh but you do puppy, you do. You already know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

His other hand pressed against your clit and your eyes rolled a little. Your nostril flared. Fuck that was painfully good. He tugged you up by the leather strap until your nose pressed against his. His moustache tickles against your lip.

“Whose collar is around this throat?” he growlee.

You grunted, “Yours.”

“That’s right...it’s. Mine. My. Collar.”

He kissed you hard and possessively. Not once did he let the collar go. He shoved his mouth into your ear as he ground down hard inside your cunt.

“Would you fuck any other man with this collar on?”

Your hand hugged the back of his neck and scratched, “No!”

“So tell me, who do you belong to.”

Your gasped, spit flying from your mouth against his as you said it, “Y-you.”

“That’s right, good puppy. You belong to me. I own you. You are my pet. You are mine to look after...mine to protect.”

It was a mantra, a speech that planted itself into your mind as a new fact...like a new commandment that always had been yet unspoken until now.

“Say it you little bitch,” he barked.

“Yours, I’m yours,” your eyes rolled as you started to cum, your words caught in your mouth until you Released a ear piercing scream, “I belong to you!!”

You felt him cackle as you wailed through the orgasm. The pressure was like a water balloon bursting in your belly and shooting a burning pleasure through your cunt.

It took you a while to calm down. You sobbed. The pleasure was too much...you felt confused and consumed. His cock twitch and he grunted loudly before freezing. His cock moved again and you felt him pull away, his cum rushed out and dripped out of you.

You felt full and empty. It was an unusual sensation.

He was sweating, your were drenched. Leaning over your trembling body, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and sighed, “what are you?”

“Yours,” you whined.

He chuckled and shook his head. His fingers pinched your jaw, “No, what are you to me?”

“I...” you paused and blinked lazily. Your brain was too fuzzy. “I don’t understand...I don’t know.”

Your hand wandered up to your throat. His hand was fiddling with the metal. You heard the collar pop and click. He pulled the collar away and threw it over his shoulder, “You’re my puppy.”

"And..." You voice rattled through your teeth, "And you're...daddy?"

He kissed you again and nodded, "Good girl."

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#tnosp #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat

[kitconnor]

Hi! Happy 4k celebration 🥰 Can you share how you make your gifs or make a gif tutorial?

hi !! tysm <3 i'm more than happy to give you a little tutorial on how i make my gifs ! of course, my process is not the same to other gifmakers and may not always work for everyone but i hope it helps !

for this tutorial, i'm using the most recent edition of photoshop (2023) on my mac. full explanation under the cut.

full disclaimer: most of what i've learnt about photoshop and the giffing process is through pure trial and error. this won't work for everyone and others may think it's a little weird, but this is just how i make my gifs !!

1.find your scenes.

finding your scenes is sometimes very time consuming but you want to get it right the first time !! for this tutorial, i'm using a music video in mp4 format.

2. loading your scenes.

to load your scenes, you want to go: 'file' > 'import' > 'video frames to layers'. i know that this step varies on the user because some people like to go to timeline first, but i'd advise starting in frames first !

after that, a screen like i've depicted below will pop up. i've also annotated everything for you as well.

so, select your desired range, press 'ok' and then it will all load into ps !

3. setting up your gif.

i'm grouping this all into one step, but it's broken down into a few things.

the first part of this is: cropping. the recommended dimensions i follow are on this guideline here, but for the sake of this tutorial i'm just going to crop my gif 540x540 (as a w x h setting). the crop tool is on the left hand tool bar.

now, my gif looks like this. from here, i'm going to click on the timeline (the space along the bottom that has every frame). from there, click on the three lines to get this menu (i've circled where to go + what you'll click):

from there, go 'select all frames' and then click on any of the frames NUMBERS (where it says 0.04 with an arrow besides it, or whatever yours says) then change the frame rate. with most youtube videos i will use 0.08 as my desired frame rate, but when i'm gifing a show or something, it loads in as 0.02, so i change it to 0.05. 0.05-6 on any normal screen cap should be fine, but obviously you can change it depending on if it looks right or not.

from there, you've basically done the first half of the basics. now, you'll want to click on this button:

and now you'll be taken to the video timeline ! from here, select command + option + a (this is for mac, i think it would be control if you're on another device) then, right click on your layers and go 'convert to smart object'.

from here, i'll sharpen my gif before i colour. for this step i have two alternative sharpening settings first one by anyataylorjoy (rb to download !) and the other by maygrant (please ask !). the first one is tuser maygrant's and the second one is tuser anyataylorjoy's. i typically use morgan's for all my basic gifs but anyataylorjoy's for creative sets. every user has a different preference but just find what's good for you !

4. colouring your gif.

definitely the most tedious, this can be a little bit of a hassle depending on the scene. if the colouring isn't riddled with heavy yellows or cyans, colouring is usually a breeze but if it is, it can be hard.

CURVES

the circle with the arrow dropdown and that's half grey-white is the circle you want to click on to find curves. it'll open a menu and curves will be at the top.

you'll see a little menu like above appear. now, select the dropper i've indicated as being the "light point" and then, using the zoom tool, we're going to zoom in and find the brightest point on the gif. this is typically where the light source is.

in this section here, i can see a couple of bright points. using the dropper, i'll click on the closest to white (note: i find that white rarely changes the colouring of the gif, so if there's like, a really really light yellow, for example, click on that) and then i'll do a similar process with the "dark point" dropper, finding the darkest spot, which is usually in shadows or in the corners. unlike with the light dropper, you want the closest to black, whether that's a dark dark brown or dark dark blue.

now, we can see how the colouring has changed:

optional: you can change the white line on the curves menu, which can make it lighter, or darker in different points of the gif.

LEVELS

levels is an optional step, but i recommend it on very light gifs, or if you want to add a little more depth. probably don't do it on an already very dark gif.

the levels menu looks like this:

the far left slider adds shadows and the far right slider makes it lighter. on this particular gif, i only need a little bit of depth to her face and i only need to contrast that a little bit. by just dragging the slider a little bit:

this is the result:

with levels, it can very quickly alter skin tone/make your gif look bad !! with levels, i don't think you need to go above 1-12 in adding depth.

OPTIONAL: BRIGHTNESS/CONTRAST

brightness/contrast is optional !! only add it if it's necessary :)

COLOUR BALANCE

a colour balance layer is great for fixing the tones for the gif !!

this one's pretty self explanatory. if you want it to be more yellow, slide it towards yellow. if you want it to be more red, slide it more towards red, etc etc. i've attached some gifs showing how i change tone:

but just play with it until it looks right. be very careful with skin tone !! colour balance can very easily whitewash/colour wash and that is not something encouraged, in the slightest.

SELECTIVE COLOUR

a selective colour layer is basically a "final touch" to colouring. where colour balance just kind of does an overall change of the gif, selective colour allows you to alter your specific tones, ie. reds, magentas, blues, etc. for me, i'll do the bulk of getting my desired colouring with colour balance, but if it overcorrects reds, for example, i'll add some cyan to red tones in selective colour, to diffuse that.

currently, in my gif, it's very red/yellow heavy. to balance that out, i want to add cyans. so, on the drop down list of the selective colour menu, i'll select 'red' and then i'll ADD cyans (so move the slider to the right, not the left to decrease) and then repeat that on other tones that i want to correct, with different colours.

with each of the sliders, just add or decrease how much of that colour is in that tone. once again, be mindful of skin tone and whether it is appropriate or not.

with selective colour, if there are any standout colours (eg. in my gif, there's a big patch of cyan) that don't interrupt their face (eg. reds and yellows are always in faces) and change the way the subjects look, you can change those colours to make it more vibrant. so, in this gif, i'll enhance the cyans and blues and magentas to make the colours pop more.

5. saving your gif

once your happy with the colouring of your gif and done what you need to do with it, save it as a smart object with all your colouring layers, then go to 'file' > 'export' > 'save for web (legacy)...' . play back your gif, and it should be all good !! congrats on making your gifs !

i've included a playback of each layer, which is staggered to show each layer come into effect.

in order: nothing -> curves -> levels-> brightness/contrast -> colour balance -> selective colour.

hope this helped !!

#*tutorial #gif tutorial #ps help #ps tutorial #userriel #userautie #userraffa #usernorah #userrsun #usercats #thingschanged #**l.myeditss

[proudcyanide]

Albert Wesker headcanons!! 👾

this bitch has been in my mind for way too long, so now is the moment i just talk about him online.

mind a couple things:

these are headcanon for a wesker in a normal life au, where is yes still kind of an asshole, but also kinda softer? like he hasn’t been through the traumas (spencer) and all, so yeah, he can love and prove emotions?? also this has parts that include a romantic relationship between wesker and you? idk. also there’s nsfw

so=significant other

i might have done some grammar mistakes or a mess with the usage of the adjective used for his so, since i tried to use they/them, but sometimes i might have used you.

edit: i’ve taken my time and i tried to fix all my typos etc. hoping that i found ‘em all *pokémon theme starts playing*

this man is pan, he doesn’t care about the gender or the physical aspect of who he’s dating, he just wants them to be smart enough to be interesting (in his opinion). i feel like he would dislike unintelligent people because he feels like they aren’t trying enough.

he loves pet names. i feel like he would use them for call his so ALL the time but when he wants to start a serious conversation.

if his so isn’t american, he would probably try to learn their culture and maybe also their language (he would absolutely learn pet names in said language because he finds cute how his lover react when he uses them). knowing him, he would probably learn the new language easily, and would be also good at it. with his accent, yes, but with proper grammar and vocabulary. he also would like to visit his so’s country both to see where they grew up and to see the biggest attractions said country offers (i am italian, and i usually picture this with him visiting my small and empty town but also milan, rome, venice, florence, naples etc.).

he chose his s.t.a.r.s. career over his umbrella’s one. in re0 he’s defined something like «practical Al», so i think that despite liking biology and generally science, he would find himself more comfortable with a career where he can spend his energies in a constructive way.

he’s rich, but doesn’t like bragging about it. he has a big house, a very nice car but tends to live very simply, spoiling himself just for particular occasions. that can’t be said for his so, who he likes spending money on. like, they would be so embarrassed because they would feel like using him, while he’s like that meme that goes «i like seeing women spending my money». after a while he just decides to not going through the same process of «you really don’t have to» and starts to buy things and then make them appear between his lover’s properties. he loves buying them clothing he thinks they would look good into.

he’s jealous af. he doesn’t throw jealousy fits in public, but when he feels someone is trying to get too close to his so (like someone getting flirty in public), he would magically appear near them, slipping his hand around their waist and kissing their head. and if he feels like they’re getting closer than he likes to someone, he would probably just go berserk on them, throwing them on the bed and reminding them whose person they are property of.

with jealousy it comes also possession. he loves to show everyone that they are his. so in public he would probably always have his arm around their waist or his hand on their knee.

he’s a dom. also a pretty kinky one. despite not disliking sweet and tender sex, he like an animalistic one more. he has many kinks (breeding, cnc, dacryphilia, bondage and i could go on for hours) and likes experimenting. but he’s also very attentive to his lover, makes sure they have a safe word for anything (also non-verbal ones) and that they are always having a good time. his after care is very simple, but he makes sure his lover is cleared and that they know it was all an act. he likes submission, but also like people who rebel: he’s definitely a brat tamer.

i’ve already said this, but i repeat it again: he’s a girl dad. with his children he’s very attentive, and despite being a little in difficulty with showing affection in a way a child can comprehend (which is a very direct one, not the subtle one he can show to his lover and few friends), he’s still a great dad and he’s very present in their life despite all the things he has to do (i am sorry jake that you live in canon and not in my mind).

alone together time!! he’s working, his so is minding their own business, but their are in the same room and this comforts him.

he doesn’t tell, but he cherishes all his s.t.a.r.s. colleagues, and considers them friends.

he likes non-sexual intimacy, like making his so shave him.

he has tons of beauty products and loves skincare (he doesn’t admit he’s getting older and wants to gaslight himself that he isn’t in his 40s/50s/60s).

i can’t imagine any of his relationships not having an age gap, so, yes, there’s an age gap.

he likes cooking and experimenting with cuisine.

he reads a lot, and has his own personal library.

he loves hanging out with birkin, and since they barely see each other, they organize this big and embarrassing foursome dates, with his so and annette being so embarrassed at first, but warming up later on.

he doesn’t believe in god, despite this he’s sherry’s godfather.

he is extremely sensitive to light, this is why he wears sunglasses. he takes them off only in his office and in his home, both places where the blinds are shut and the lights are very dim.

okay, for now it’s over.

for now.

#resident evil #rebh #biohazard #albert wesker #wesker #resident evil biohazard #albert wesker resident evil #albert wesker x you #albert wesker x reader #pansexual #resident evil headcanons #albert wesker headcanons #he’s not evil here guys

[seriouslysam8]

Brumous Sneak Peek!

This is an unedited sneak peek, per usual because you know I can't keep up in my writing to save my life. I still haven't decided if I'm updating this weekend or not. Things have been hectic this past week for me and I haven't been writing as much as normal. So I need to still do edits when I get them as well as work on 42. It's just, LIFE, you know?

Chapter Forty-One: Riddle House

Ginny woke slightly disoriented and twisted in an awkward position. Groaning, she turned her face into something hard that was definitely not a pillow. Quirking an eye open, all she saw was green. She pushed herself up into a seated position, and realized she had fallen asleep on Harry’s chest. Her sudden movement caused Harry to groan.

His glasses lay askew on his face and his hair a wonderful mess. The Marauder’s Map laid open, half on his lap and half on the bed. Harry righted his glasses, his head lolling to the side to look at Ginny.

“I think we fell asleep,” Ginny commented, her hand squeezing her neck to work out the kink in it from the awkward angle she fell asleep in. 

They had watched the Marauder’s Map until they had fallen asleep. Harry wanted to know when Malfoy and Nott left the Room of Requirement, so they could have access to the room to look at the cabinet more closely. 

Harry grumbled, sitting up and snatching the map. His eyes flew around the map, folding and unfolding it in a frantic search to find Malfoy and Nott. He stopped on the Slytherin common room, Malfoy’s and Nott’s dots were in their dormitory. Harry cleared the map before scrambling out of bed, nearly falling flat on his face. Ginny sprung to action as well.

Ginny jumped out of bed, crashing into Harry in the process. He stood frozen. It took Ginny a few moments to realize he was staring at something. Or rather, someone. Ron looked between them, his eyebrows rising into his hairline. Harry breathed heavily next to her. 

“Want to investigate a cabinet?” Harry asked. “I think Malfoy and Nott were messing around with it.”

Ron’s eyes grew impossibly wider. “Well, bloody hell, yeah! But, I mean, we got to, you know, talk about this,” he added, gesturing between Harry and Ginny.

“No, we bloody well don’t,” Ginny snapped.

“Are you in here every night?” Ron asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Ginny challenged.

“No,” Harry lied at the same time, sounding far too convincing. “We fell asleep waiting for Malfoy and Nott to leave the Room of Requirement.”

Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry before he nodded. “Well, let’s go then! Show me this ruddy cabinet!”

The three of them dashed through the corridors. Ginny struggled to keep up, cursing the boys and their long legs. She had to move twice as fast as they were. At one point, Harry even turned around to make sure Ginny was still with them. He paused in his stride and held his hand out for her. She huffed, pushing it away as she darted in front of him. She wasn’t going to let him think she couldn’t keep up. 

[goodluckclove]

WIP Tag Game!

Whoa tagged again by the brilliant @ivaspinoza! Check her out if you're down for what I imagine to be some intense bloodsucking existentialism!

I'll do this for all of Songbird Elegies as a whole. I'm on book two right now - Blind Trust comes out June 20th!

Read below to hear some things about the origins of the series that I haven't actually said yet and probably won't say again.

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

Funny story! I hadn't written anything tangible for months since leaving my terrible copyrighting job. I was absolutely miserable. I ended up leaving my second job because of a medication problem and spent a week in bed detoxing off of Seroquel withdrawal - bad bad don't do that if you can help it. After that I fell into recovery and just had no idea what to do with my days.

The turning point was when I sent an email going fully no-contact with my across-the-board abusive parents. They did some awful things across the course of my life and I'm still spending a good chunk of time making up for their ridiculous medical neglect. I might need throat surgery because of them. Not great! But anyways, I sent that email and wrote the first 15 pages of Blind Trust later that day, sitting on the floor while my wife took a nap on the couch. It just came out. Wife said they liked it so I just kept going.

Three months and two data losses later and the first draft was done!

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I have so many Songbird Elegy playlists oh my God. It's hard to say, and the answer will change, but right now it's "Love Me, Normally" by Will Wood.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

They're all very important to me for different reasons. Scott is the one I tend to talk about the most because he captures a lot of mania and upbeat romanticism, qualities of myself that I value despite the obvious faults. Edgar is just as important, but they represent a lot of my current struggles and I'm doing a lot of healing and processing through them which is good but less - you know - fun?

Tenzin reminds me of my wife with her quiet stoicism. Katy reminds me of my older sister and everything she sacrificed to keep me and my siblings alive. She's more of a mother to me than my own mother. My sister is actually the first person to finish Blind Trust after I finished it.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Disco Elysium maybe? Griffin and Sabine - has anyone else read that? The Witcher, but specifically the novels? Requiem for a Dream for later books. Tales of the City in terms of tone and character focus. Fleet Foxes and Hoizer and early Decemberists?

Good, warm soup. If you like a bowl of good, warm soup, you will enjoy Songbird Elegies.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

Definitely Edgar's arc. Their experience with their metaphorical (or are they??) inner child and the abuse they've been working to escape and recover from has been hard to look at directly. Especially once I introduced Scott's mother, who's turned into a weird mix of the maternal figure I wish I had and the one I feel I could've been if I chose that path.

Yesterday I found myself writing how I wish it went when my wife met my parents, through Scott and Edgar meeting Scott's mom. The sharing of parental pride and affection despite potential embarrassment. It's a cute scene, but there's a lot of grief in there for me. I wonder if it'll show.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Wilford Brimley is Katy's pet Persian cat. He is old and weird and a little fucked up. I had to edit his introduction in Blind Trust because it was six (small) paragraphs and Wife told me that was unreasonable (skill issue), but I can include some canon info:

He shoves his paw under the bathroom door while people are in the bathroom

He likes feet

Edgar sometimes shares little bits of cheese with him

Once he fell asleep in Edgar's lap but then peed in his lap and just kept sleeping in the piss

Edgar treat him like a weird cousin he has to make conversation with during holidays

Wilford thinks he's his brother and an equally fucked up cat

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Cars mostly! Edgar has a shitty used car that's always close to breaking down. Katy has a newer car that's still used, but she takes very good care of it - I think it's a Fiat. I think Tenzin probably uses the car Scott's Dad left behind after he died, which is a vintage Cadillac convertible that Scott's Mom fixed up.

Scott is the only one without a license since he essentially has a magical dissociative disorder and hasn't yet felt safe behind the wheel. In Blind Trust he's taken every form of public transit to cross the country. I think when he was younger he used to skateboard to get around Bluerose.

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

I'm close to 40k into book two!

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

I have hopes that people will enjoy the tenderness of it. I'm like a reverse-whump ace writer, in that I've written a series that's aggressively pro-comfort and recovery. People start off in pretty sorry states and then make the difficult effort to put themselves and each other back together.

There's explicit ace representation in Scott and aroace rep in Katy (she doesn't know it yet though shhh). Edgar comes out as Agender and changes pronouns midway into the series, but still keeps presenting as androgynous/masc leaning. There's diversity in body types and gender identities in a way that feels warranted to me - Scott has Klinefelter's and grew up taking T, and he made a best friend that came out so she could take her E with him. Same goes with disabilities in prominent characters, though the main four focus on what I have personal experience in.

As a disabled queer writer I hope to make a series that tells a fantastical story about people like me that doesn't pander specifically to my market.

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

I hope people read it. I hope they like it. It'd be cool if I could talk to people about it. I've been pretty deep in the Songbird Elegy fandom for some time now haha.

On a more serious note I hope there's a market for non-sexualized romances that are still hyper intimate. I know I'm into it but I'm still not sure if other people are. I'd like to create more media about positive and fulfilling ace relationships, both romantic and platonic. I'm tired of people seeing that type of life as a loss. Any healthy companionship is not a loss.

I want people to read Songbird Elegies and think about the love in their lives and in themselves. All of it, in every way. Yeah.

I tag @ryns-ramblings! I wanna hear about your thing!

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing community #blind trust #writing #on writing #migration patterns #queer writers #agender #asexuality #songbird elegies #authors of tumblr

[annefic]

Ok so

I made that devilled pheasant recipe that was reported to be Anne's favorite in the issue of Country Life she guest edited (but with chicken rather than pheasant as it's a difficult bird to find around here out of season and expensive any time of year, and I didn't want to waste "shipping it in" money on something I might not even like)

Some thoughts:

I kinda had to guess my way through this because the recipe is super vague. No oven temperatures, very little indication of how long things should be allowed to cook, and based on the video I'm pretty sure the British are working with rather different definitions of "casserole" and "tender" than we are in the US

The spices the bird is boiled in smell divine by themselves, and I've saved the stock because I think it will make a great soup base. I about quintupled the garlic used because northern European recipes and especially British ones never use enough garlic. "One clove" is either a joke or like. Eating whole like a candy once it's dried or roasted amounts, not flavoring a dish to feed four amounts. I used three and also rubbed the meat in garlic powder before I did anything else with the recipe.

By the same token, I think it would materially improve the outcome if the meat were dry rubbed in all the spices (+extra garlic) and allowed to soak them in overnight before beginning the cooking process.

Included in the vagueness - it didn't say whether to keep or chuck the carrot and onions when you drain the meat. I chose to keep and I'm glad I did; the carrot in particular adds a lot to the final product

The only double cream available here comes already stiff... Not paying 15 fucking dollars for enough to have a full metric cup so I used one 6 oz jar and made up the difference with heavy whipping cream. They blended together quickly and easily.

The mango chutney-whipped cream-worcestershire mix used to dress it is... It tastes. It's very fruity and very strong. I think it would be more enjoyable if stood up against the gamey flavor of a pheasant; as it is it's very rich and rather overpowering. Definitely better evenly mixed in rather than slopped on top as the recipe asks, and I think it could stand either more heat or more time in the oven once the meat and cream are added together. (Due to the lack of a temperature in either real or fake units I assumed they meant to heat it in what Americans would call a "warm oven" - 175 to 200°F, not enough for further cooking to really occur just enough to get everything to a warm temperature.)

Overall thoughts: It's more positive than negative for me, but I don't think this is going to be the kind of dish just anyone would instantly fall in love with after the first bite. It's a very unique taste and uses fruit in a way I don't normally see it used with poultry. As I said already, I think the gamier taste of pheasant would probably help this considerably but I don't think that alone is going to make it a perennial favorite. The pheasant crumble pie in the issue Charles guest edited seems to have a more traditional flavor profile and I think that would fall more along my lines of preference - perhaps I shall make it later.

Uhhh, I don't know how to end this soooo

Bird

Frankly, it also looks more appealing mixed together. This has none of the darker more vibrant oranges showing in the picture of the finished dish on the website which is another reason I'm suspicious I didn't get the right idea of what "heat it in the oven for 10 minutes" was actually supposed to mean

[impossiblefangirl0632]

Midnight Mischief: Milk Edition

Camilo crept through the courtyard, out the door, and down the hill into town with full confidence in his plan.

This was a great idea. No questions. None whatsoever.

Except… 

He didn't know if he could actually pull it off by himself. 

Now usually his pranks were an easy one-man show. How could they not when he could be literally anyone?

But the fact of the matter was he needed an accomplice for this one. Not even he could be in two places at once.

The problem was finding someone who'd help him. 

He stopped walking.

Maybe he should have thought about this before he snuck out.

The obvious answer was Antonio but there was no way he was risking his parent’s wrath by taking Antonio on a 2 am prank excursion 

Mirabel then? Camilo pursed his lips. Maybe…

“Camilo.”

Now, don’t let Bruno lie to you, Camilo Madrigal did NOT scream when Bruno snuck up on him. He totally did

But to be fair you would have too if your uncle with a penchant for mischief and a pair of glowing green eyes snuck up on you in the middle of the night.

“Tio!” Camilo wheezed, “Don’t DO that!” 

Bruno just snickered, “Ah Sobrino, that’ll never get old.”

Camilo glared at him. 

Well, there went that plan. He was in so much trouble.

But, never one to give up easily Camilo stalled for time. “So…” He adopted a casual tone, that oozed I’ve done nothing wrong, everything about this is completely normal. “What brings you out tonight hmm?”

Bruno raised an eyebrow, which only made him look eerier. Camilo really wished he wouldn’t use his eyes as a flashlight. Actually, now that he thought about it that was probably why 6-year-old him had formed the opinion that Bruno was some sort of boogeyman.

Bruno shrugged, nonchalant. “Oh, you know, just checking up on my trouble maker Sobrino, gotta find out if he has a good excuse for sneaking out at 2 am. It’s important information when deciding whether or not to tell his madre—”

Camilo broke character, panicking “Don’t tell her! Please! This is, this isn’t a normal prank it’s—”

Bruno’s faux serious expression broke and he laughed. “Ay, Milo, I’m not going to tell Pepa. I’m here to help you.”

Camilo opened his mouth to argue before processing his uncle’s words. “Wait, help me? You don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Ohhh, so you’re not trying to drive all of Señor Hernández’s cows into the donkeys' favorite spot, ie the middle of town, meanwhile putting the donkeys in the pasture where they’ll be incredibly annoying to gather up again. And of course, all of this definitely isn’t to give him an exaggerated taste of his own medicine because it’s Luisa’s day off tomorrow and wayward animals don’t count as an emergency so he’ll have to round them all up by himself.”

Camilo blinked.

“How did you— Wait no, stupid question.” Camilo brightened immediately, his trademark mischievous grin slid smoothly back into place. “If you saw it then it works!”

A matching grin spread across Bruno’s face. If his sisters had seen it they would have groaned and told the unfortunate soul he was planning on wreaking havoc on to run for the hills. But then again Bruno never did anything that wasn’t deserved so maybe not. 

He schooled his face back into Serious Adult. “Exactly. But. The terms of me not telling Pepa are that we have to actually milk the cows. Hernández isn’t going to do it while he’s panicking and it’s not good for them  if they don’t get milked.”

Camilo scrunched up his face but didn’t argue. That was… fair. But, “Do you even know how to milk a cow?”

Bruno gave him a deadpan look. “Kid, we were refugees with nothing, it took roughly 20 years for the Encanto to get to any sort of comfortable stability. When I was your age milking cows was something I could do to be useful that didn’t involve visions or people.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” Bruno clapped his hands together. “Right, well, let’s go teach an incompetent rancher the importance of fixing his fences.”

In the morning when a panicked Señor Hernández banged on Casita’s door to request Luisa’s help Camilo took great pleasure in not so politely informing him that it was actually Luisa’s day off and maybe he should work on keeping better track of his animals.

And if the exhausted duo (who knew getting cows to move would be so HARD) had been forcibly put to work by a knowing Julieta to use up the abundance of milk they’d brought home, well, that was something that would just have to be kept in the family.

#encanto milk day #encanto fanfic #encanto ficlet #encanto oneshot #does this count as a crack fic? #Didn't think I was gonna participate in milk day but then I had this idea #so here we are #bruno madrigal #camilo madrigal #my fic

[melsie-sims]

Hi! I was just wondering if you use Reshade (Or Gshade?) when playing Sims 2? I've never used either and I'm worried if Sims 2 could handle it? Your Sims 2 posts are so pretty and I'm wanting my own to look at least half as good! Thank you so much!

Hey Anon! I hope you're doing well!

Unfortunately I don't actually use Reshade or Gshade for either Sims 2 or Sims 4. I just play a normal, boring, unsaturated game. I'm sorry I can't help you with that part. But I'm still gonna try to help! Don't worry!

Everything you see on Simblr is done through the power of editing... Here's a quick tutorial (It wasn't actually quick, it took me hours to reply to this) if you'd like to learn more on how I get my screenshots to look the way they do.

I use Gimp which is 100% free, as opposed to Photoshop's monthly fee. At this point I'm way more comfortable with Gimp so I wouldn't make the switch even if I had the money to spare.

Saving Templates as xcf Files

I’m not a tech or graphic design genius so correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing xcf files are the equivalent of psd files. These are the types of files you need to open if you want all of your layers to show up. When you have all of your layers ready, you need to do “save as” and then make sure you’re saving your project as a .xcf.

Using xcf files I made reusable templates for my screenshots so everything is already saved when I want to edit. I just have to open up the screenshots as new layers into the xcf templates and it's done! It literally takes two minutes to do!

Sims 4 is a bit more complicated because I add moodlets, notifs and icons, but the process is generally the same.

Before & After:

Above are two images edited differently depending on the lighting. The image on the left uses the 25% opacity layer while the image on the right uses the 75% opacity one. You can definitely see the difference. They're way brighter and crispier.

My Layers:

This is what my layers look like. I renamed some of them for your convenience so don't be confused when the images below have different names.

Top Layer (Bright Pink)

The pink-peach gradient is what makes my images bright and pink. I love that it removes the bluish glow from Sims images. The mode is "overlay" and the opacity is set to 60%.

2nd Layer (Peachy Burn)

This layer makes the image crispier. It's a little darker and the contrast is better in my opinion. It's super touchy though so you barely have to have any opacity at all for it to work. The mode is "burn" and the opacity is only 15%.

Layers 3 to 6 (Brightness)

So these are the layers that REALLY make all the difference. Depending on the lighting in the original screenshot I use a different layer to brighten up my images even more.

If it's bright and my sims are outside I'll likely use the 10% one since I don't need to lighten up the image much. If it's really dark I'll likely go for the 75% one.

For most indoor screenshots I will use the 25% opacity one which is the one that's already toggled on when I open up the template.

Layer 7 (The Image)

This is more or less just a placeholder. I usually put my screenshots between this layer and "Overlay 10% (Day)". You don't have to do anything with it. If all of your layers are toggled on properly then the image should already look edited the moment you add it to the template.

Previews

This is what it looks like when I open a random screenshot as a new layer. As you can see, I'm using the 25% opacity layer. Every other opacity is toggled off, which you achieve by clicking on the little eye icon at the left of the layer.

This is the original image with every other layer turned off. It's what I see in-game when I play.

As you can see, it's very dark and unappealing. What can we do to change that?

Here's me turning on every single layer in gif form. You can clearly see the difference the "Overlay ##%" layers do to help brighten up the image. You can also see why I'd choose 75% over 10%.

A final note or two:

If you've read this far and found this tutorial useful (it literally took me hours to do so I hope someone took away something from it LOL) then you're welcome!

I'm just gonna low-key add the link to my Ko-Fi here in case this post gets a lot of views and anyone would like to donate. 😂😂 I'm having a hard time financially so it'd really help. No pressure though, especially if you're also struggling to pay the bills.

#sims 2 #gimp tutorial #just chatting #ask reply #editing #resource

[funkymbtifiction]

Hey Charity! Firstly, I appreciate the hell outta you! I'm from a family of 8s and without your fined tooth comb, I would have never got to the bottom of why we always ended up at each others throats throughout my childhood. (*ahem* instinct stacking) 😆 Among other mbti / enneagram based epiphanies.

Anyways.. I wanted to ask you what your longterm takeaway on the goblins of discords reading of you is. Put it this way... if there's anything out there I trust as much as the gut instinct of the 8... it's the healthy skepticism of 6. And I get it.. they have a charming way of disarming the whole 'First things first, I disagree' mentality that you might normally bring to the table... but. In my opinion, you have more experience and ways of applying the information that goes into deducing type... hard to aim it at the 'self' though... which i get too.

Do you think their tri-type reading of you takes precedence over your own or do you revert back to your appraisal?

Or.. does the process whole process to submitting to their point of view sort of leave you ambivalent to typing as a whole since... ultimately everyone is 'entitled' to their opinion. I know theres sort of politics involved when it comes to opinions about enneagram websites and content providers but... I figure it makes a decent last question.

ps hugs and kisses, thanks so much for your dedication to this altruistic endeavor.

I started to answer this several times, and even talked to myself about it in the car on the way someplace today, but naturally I remember none of my earlier attempts, so I’ll just think/answer it as I go.

It’s been almost five months since I got my results back, and in that time, I have reconsidered, questioned, and also introspected, challenging their typing by coming at it from my inner lens. I keep looking for ways out of it, but all roads lead back to the exact same conclusion. Which is to say, I think they “nailed me.” I tried to indulge a 2 fix again for a while, but that always falls flat when I examine my motives and what I want from other people (what I want them to see, what I want them to remember about me). I am casually nice and helpful, but have no ego strategy tied to it. It’s not what makes me neurotic, 3 is what makes me neurotic. Being admired, seen as successful, being afraid of failure, shape-shifting (as much as Fi will allow, which isn’t much), being aware of how things will “look.” I am definitely the workaholic tritype – the instant I finish a massive project, I don’t exist until I start another one, and I never rest – I launch right into it.

And 1 is fairly obvious, so… yeah. I may quibble on the wings (I could see an argument for either 1w2 or 1w9 as a fix), and I’m not sure that 1 comes before 3 (I feel a lot of tension between 6 and 3), but overall I think they did a good job based on what I gave them – and when I sent them that video, after watching/editing it (to remove all the awkward pauses and paper shuffling… a very 3 fixed thing to do, managing the presentation), I thought, “They will type me as 3 fixed.” All the confusion in my own mind cleared the minute I saw myself on video. I’m not into visual typing, but that forced me out of my head and made me assess myself as an independent individual – I know enough about type dynamics to get a read on myself, if I watch myself answer questions and truly listen to what I said. I typed me based off that video as I would have typed anyone else, had it come from them – 6 (buzzy head type, all in the mind, never in the body), 1 (frustration, competency, annoyance), and 3 (accomplishment, some aggression, image-managing, “I want to be the best”).

I think there’s some value in recording a video and then watching yourself, based on what you know about the types and how they play out, assuming you know the types deeply. And I think if you are genuinely unable to introspect, or lost, or have been cycling through types for a long time, an independent assessment can go a long way into helping you gain clarity – you may or may not agree with their assessment of you, but if they provide reasoning (as Goblins do), at least you understand “why” they saw that in you, and can reject or listen to it. I don’t think anyone should just accept what an “expert” tells them about their type, but instead, take some time to consider whether it “might be” true, based on the inner experience. By watching yourself for a while, to see if/how that number’s dynamics play out in your daily life. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. You start noticing it, along with when and what triggers that fix.

I’ve said before that you can’t know your MBTI type until you both know the functions well enough to understand how they work, and have observed yourself enough to see you “doing” them in “real time” (recognizing that what you are using this very second is this or that function). It’s the same with the Enneagram. Enough introspection and “watching of me” without judgment, but by looking for certain patterns, will confirm or prove that you are/are not this or that type.

IF you decide to pay someone to type you, I recommend that you only do so with someone who a) seems to have a strong and accurate knowledge of the different types (I trust Goblins, because they know what is and isn’t 4, what is and isn’t 9, and what is and isn’t 6, the three most misrepresented and mistyped types), who has a proven track record with explanations that make sense both in the context of their argument and comparatively to what that type is, and who actually interacts with you and talks to you and/or gives an in-depth explanation, rather than just giving you an answer; because you cannot determine someone’s type from a static ten minute video, you need to interact with them and get a sense of their inner motivations.

Lastly, I encourage you to share the video in other places, to see what the general consensus is, and have spent enough time in various groups noticing who does and does not seem to have a knack for typing. If the answer you receive from the majority of people is similar, there’s a good chance that that portion of your typing is accurate. (I shared several videos in several different typing groups, and it was overwhelmingly 6-1, with people divided between 2/3 heart fixes.)

I have seen people pay a lot of money to be mistyped by various teachers, and it’s obvious from observing them that they have not done the inner work necessary to notice the mistype (6s who think they are 5s but who are always soliciting outside opinions, “4s” who make a long post about how overwhelming life is and how they internalize everyone else’s feelings [9s], and even a few 9s mistyped as 3s who display extreme withdrawn tendencies, etc).

The point of the Enneagram is inner work. The point is to learn to identify your mechanisms and learn not to do them automatically (choice vs. “nature”). If you can’t or won’t do that, it’s useless. And I should add that the only people who truly find their type are willing to be whatever their true type is; there is no ego-defense or preference for one type over another. Resistance to being X heart fixed, or Y gut fixed, or Z head fixed only impedes the process and makes you unable to see yourself clearly. When all you want is the RIGHT answer, even if you hate it, you're ready to accept the truth.

#question #enneagram #goblins of discord

[napollya-inspiration]

atomic blonde au

I kind of want to start a series about writing this fic just because I can. I make no promises of finishing it. I just think that my process for this will be so different - as I mostly adjust the process to each fic that's pretty normal for me - but this has been baking for the past 6 years.

A big part of why I want to write this is to explore something I kind of touched on in Tangled Up, which I wrote in 2017. That fic needs some heavy editing from my perspective today, but I started to deal with the dynamic of Gaby being East German and getting mixed up with Napoleon as an American and Illya as a Russian and what that would mean for her. How do her sentiments differ from theirs as someone who got into the spy business to get out of the GDR?

“He’s a Russian.” She said like it explained things. “What do you mean?” “I am from East Germany.” She looked around for a moment and stopped. “Look, they say Russia is our big brother. But not in the way big brothers can be protective and super cool. More in the way big brothers can be oppressing and authoritative. Maybe even abusing.” She said in a hushed voice but with a stress that convinced Napoleon she meant every word. It made sense. Very few of the East Germans loved the Russians or what they had done to their country. The fear of the Stasi at all times and the propaganda education didn’t help. “Are you afraid?” He asked, honestly concerned. “No, no.” Gaby started walking again. Her tone lightened. “Illya is incredibly soft, although he may not look like it. Excerpt from Tangled Up

Again, I would improve a lot of things about this fic today, but this was me scratching the surface of a dynamic that I know from growing up in what used to be East Germany. Don't get me wrong, the wall had been down for ten years when I was born, but I felt ripple effects even as I was growing up. My mom was 18 when the wall fell. I had a history teacher who used to patrol the border. My parents hadn't ever eaten a kiwi until they were 20 and had no clue how you ate one when they got it from the store. My grandpa's brother escaped to the West and doesn't talk to my family anymore.

It's very much a reality of growing up German.

This is what I love about Atomic Blonde. Sure, the plot is awesome, but you can see the country being reunited as a backdrop. While all countries continue to hunt and kill each other, the Cold War "ends."

It's definitely something I want to bring into the fanfic. The surreality of the divided city. I already posted this snippet from the WIP, so I don't feel bad about it, but the way I start to introduce this dynamic is through Napoleon's musings as his plane descends on Berlin.

Out of all the places, Berlin is one of the dirtiest to spend your time as a spy. Nowhere else is the density of spies per capita this high.  And it shows.  Napoleon despises it. The desperation of the West German Citizens holding onto their city and being fed by the West like a helpless infant with spoons that are literal airplanes. And then there’s the desperation of the East Germans, fenced in by their own government and longing for the American dream like it was going to fix anything. And above all, every fucking government trying to profit from their collective desperation.  When a hundred and sixty yards-wide missile field divides a city, you know to be rather careful where you step.

Fun fact: you can see how Berlin used to be divided to this day if you look at it from above at night:

Let me know if you are interested in this kind of behind-the-scenes content!

#napollya #tmfu au #tmfu fic #atomic blonde au #who won (and what was the fucking game anyway) #nici writes

[frodo-with-glasses]

for the friendship asks - #11 for Aragorn and Faramir!

11. “Which of the friends do I relate to more?”

Whoof, that’s a tricky one. I guess Aragorn and Faramir just never seemed particularly relatable to me?? I mean, the hobbits I can relate to just fine—as I'm sure was Tolkien's design, because he built them to be the Everymen through whose eyes we experience the story—but Aragorn and Faramir feel more like the heroes of ancient legend, or like wax figures standing stoically in a museum, than they feel like your cousin or your neighbor or your friend. They're sort of...distant, unknowable, and untouchable. A step above "normal people", so to speak.

Now, let's see...usually, what makes characters relatable are the challenges and struggles they experience. Even if the circumstances of their stories are extraordinary and far outside the realm of our boring lives, the characters will react to those circumstances with very human emotions, and that's what makes it possible for us, the audience, to connect to them.

Aragorn's struggle is that he's a lost king who's trying to reclaim his throne. He has a lot of responsibility and expectations on his shoulders, but he sometimes doubts he'll be able to live up to it all. He's not so prideful that he thinks he can't make mistakes, but he picks himself up and does what he has to anyway.

Faramir's struggle is that he is overworked by a father who's slowly going mad, and the strain drives him nearly to his literal death. One of these days I'll do a mini-essay comparing Faramir in the movies vs. Faramir in the books, but in the meantime, suffice it to say that Book Faramir strikes me as even less relatable than Movie Faramir, simply because he has less flaws. He's admirable and noble, but it's he's the kind of person that you respect from a distance, not one that you can really understand.

I guess that just leaves Faramir with one potentially relatable thing: his daddy issues. However, I am thrilled to say that I can't relate to those either. My dad is The AwesomestTM, and I'm not just saying that because he reads this blog occasionally. (Hi Dad, love you! 💚) I'm saying that because it's true, and because whether you guys realize it or not, you love him too.

My dad the one who introduced me to Lord of the Rings when I was a smol. My dad is the one who raised us on family movie nights watching bonus features of the Extended Editions on our chonky little letterbox TV. My dad is the one bought me this absolutely dope-looking copy of LotR, which has featured in every single Photo of the Text at the top of my posts since the start of Two Towers. My dad is the one who suggested I draw this moment with Treebeard, Legolas, and Gimli, which you guys evidently thought was hilarious, because it was my second post to break 2K notes! This blog would not exist without him (nor would I, by definition, but that's beside the point). He's a nerd, and hilarious, and one of the wisest people I know, and he has never, not even once, even remotely attempted to set me on fire!

All that to say: I think, by process of elimination, I'll have to say Aragorn is more relatable to me, if only because we get to spend more time with him, get him in his head, and see him when he's getting cross with hobbits and isn't at his best.

I'm sorry if that's a boring answer, but thanks for giving me the chance to go off on a tangent about my dad!

FRIENDSHIP ASK GAME!

#ask game #aragorn #faramir #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #in which i go off about my dad for way longer than the situation warranted

[snowdice]

Creased Hoodies (Chapter 7: iPad Diagnostics) [Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sander Sides

Relationships: Logan/Virgil, Janus/Patton (background), Remus & Roman  (background)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Virgil

Appear: Patton, Roman

Mentioned: Janus, Remus

Summary: Virgil just wanted to go on his planned summer research trip to do an anthropological study in 2005 America. However, when he is taken off course by an unknown enemy, he ends up stranded in the summer of 2018 with no way to get back the the 44rd century. Luckily, 2018 happens to be where a certain illegal time agency is based, and he might have an in with one of its agents.

This is the intermission for the story Folds in Paper. It takes place between Folds in Paper Book 1 and Book 2. It also takes place after the first 5 chapter of “Messages for a Hacker” which are side stories in the universe. Check all of this and more out on my Folds in Time Master Post.

Chapter Summary: Logan and Virgil are not morning people. Patton and Roman are.

Notes: Time travel AU

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Virgil was, indeed, able to find the location he’d crashed landed at quite easily. It was impressive honestly. Logan knew how different the location looked during the farmers market compared to every other day of the week. The main road had been opened and the stage where musical performances took place had been removed. However, Virgil was able to retrace his steps without issue.

“I ended up under the stage,” Virgil informed Logan. “It’s been taken down now, but you can see where it was based on the grass.” He pointed to where the grass had been flattened and then walked around the indent a bit. “I was in the back,” he said, looking towards where the sidewalk was with a contemplative look, “so it would have been almost exactly here.” He tapped his foot on the spot.

Anticipating this part of their excursion, Logan had packed some of his tools before leaving this morning. He pulled out one of his modified iPads.

“You hide your time travel tech as an iPad?” Virgil asked, curiously.

Logan spared him a glance but said nothing.

“…You made your time travel tech out of an iPad?!”

“It is one of the most easily accessible technologies of this time that is also portable,” Logan said with a shrug, booting it up. “I use what I can get.”

“How on Earth did you manage to invent time travel with 21st century technology?” Virgil asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“Well, it took me a couple of decades,” Logan replied.

“It took everyone else literal centuries,” Virgil said dryly.

“Well, I knew time travel was possible already, so I simply made it happen.”

“You’re terrifying,” Virgil stated.

Logan just hummed and set the iPad scrolling through his diagnostic programs. In a few moments, it would come back with any readings time travel related.

Virgil watched the device intently, though Logan doubted he had any understanding about what the different things scrolling past meant.

It gave a soft beep when it was done.

“Well,” Logan said, studying his screen. The readings were not what he was expecting “There is definitely an anomaly, but we of course already knew that. These readings are strange, however.”

“What do you mean?”

Logan pointed to the iPad. “See this graph?” he asked.

Virgil nodded.

“It’s mapping out any timeline irregularities. When everything is normal, it looks like it does here at the beginning.” Logan pointed at the part of the graph from the beginning of Saturday. “It will oscillate between a value of .02 and .08. Things above 1 indicate something is amiss.”

Logan drew his finger across the graph to later in the day.

“I’d assumed whatever had caused you to end up here had dragged you here, but that doesn’t match these readings. Your arrival was not the main disturbance. There was a smaller disturbance about an hour before your crash.” He drew his finger along the almost straight line that stayed at 1.5 before there was a sudden spike. “Then there was the first spike.” The graph went up to 4.5 suddenly and then leveled off staying at 4.5 for a few minutes. He tapped at a spike to 4.9 that came next. “This is your arrival.”

“So…?” Virgil said.

“So, I think your presence here was a byproduct of something else being amiss. I don’t know everything about the time travel technology from your time, but I have noted that your devices tend to briefly ping off of times near to your destination before landing. It’s a form of recalibration. I think your device did a brief landing here at the wrong time and was deactivated much like Janus’s time piece has deactivated in the past in similar circumstances.”

“What does that mean for me?”

“Well, it means your device likely isn’t broken,” Logan said.

“Then why isn’t it working?” Virgil asked.

“Because,” Logan said, scrolling forward in time on the graph. The line had gone back down slightly but had remained at about 3.5 for the last few hours. “Whatever disabled your time piece is still here.”

Virgil looked at his feet as though expecting to see the device sitting on the ground somewhere.

“Not here here,” Logan clarified, “but it is active somewhere in this time and is nearby. They have a limited range from what I understand, though by limited, I mean it could be anywhere in the city. Though it is strange…”

“What’s strange?”

Logan tapped through different readings on his iPad to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. “It’s not causing any other problems,” he said. “We’ve only ran into these things once or twice before and we’ve never managed to actually get our hands on one to study it further. However, each time we’ve seen them, they’ve created some sort of major environmental issue. However, this time there are no obvious indications of time instability or weather problems. In fact, if I wasn’t looking for it, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Okay, that is weird,” Virgil said, “but can’t we just find it and shut it off? That’s what Janus said he did when he ran into them.”

“It is,” Logan confirmed. “The only issue is without the obvious environmental clues, I have no idea where it actually is to turn it off. It definitely was here when it switched on, but considering the dip in the graph at this location, it isn’t here anymore.” He looked around. “Perhaps it was attached to the stage or put in one of the musicians’ instrument cases. Then again, by that logic, it could have been put in anyone’s bags or in a since emptied trashcan.”

“So, it could basically be anywhere?”

“Basically,” Logan agreed. “We will check the most likely places for now and if that produces no results, I’ll… figure out something.”

Virgil grimaced. “That sounds promising.”

“I will do my best,” Logan promised. “I just wish I knew more about these devices.”

Virgil seemed to hesitate for a long moment. “How would you go about learning more about them?”

“Well,” Logan said, “if I could get ahold of a similar device to experiment on, I could probably find a way to track this one.”

“You already have,” Virgil said.

“Have what?” Logan asked, confused.

“You already have gotten ahold of one,” Virgil said.

Logan frowned at him. “I assure you, I have not.”

“But you do,” Virgil said. “Eventually.”

“…Oh, I see,” Logan replied, catching on. “Do you perhaps know where we do eventually find such a thing?”

Virgil pressed his lips together. “I think I might already be saying too much,” he said. “It’s stuff you shouldn’t know about yet in your personal timeline. People aren’t supposed to…”

“Time is not nearly as sensitive as the TPI seems to believe,” Logan said with an eyeroll. “In fact, most of Janus and Patton’s interactions so far involve accidently giving more information than necessary.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’m a time traveler from the 21st century who lives with a French man from the 1800s,” Logan said. “I’m not asking for a rundown of every part of the event, just a time and place to point us in the correct direction.”

Virgil still didn’t seem convinced.

“It would really only be a time saver,” Logan argued. “I could just blindly look for time distortions and send Patton after them, but it’d take a while…”

“Fine,” Virgil said after a moment. “This is probably entirely stupid, but fine. Give me a moment to think about what exactly I can tell you, so I don’t mess everything up.”

Logan smiled slightly at his overly cautious behavior but waited patiently.

“Janus met Pat once in Cuba. There was a time distortion during the Camaguey Carnival of 1755. Pat took the device that had been causing the disturbance and left before Janus could catch him.”

“Camaguey 1755,” Logan repeated. “An interesting time. I’ll look into it, and we will see what we can do. A trip will still take a few days to prep, however.”

Logan would need to find exact coordinates and he’d have to talk to Patton considering he’d just recently gotten back from an unwillingly long trip to pre-history. He’d probably be willing to go, but he’d mentioned forcing Logan to make him a “time survival pack” before he’d be willing to go back into the timestream. They’d need to talk about what exactly that entailed and get the supplies for it. His mind was already making plans about what he needed to do.

Virgil nodded. “Should we head back to the apartment, then?” he asked, interrupting Logan’s thoughts. Logan glanced at him. He had actually planned to show the man around a bit today instead of spending all of their time thinking about time travel.

“I cannot be sure that my roommates will have cleaned up their French toast nonsense by now,” he said. “We should likely wait to return until at least the lunch hour. It is not as though we could do anything about it today. We will need to plan.”

“Okay,” said Virgil, “then what are we going to do for the next 3-4 hours?”

“Well,” Logan said. “Perhaps I can show you around the town a bit more so as to not make more of a liar of myself than I already have.”

“Sure,” Virgil agreed with a smile. “What will you be showing me.”

“I was thinking we could visit the local museum. We can compare notes about how wildly inaccurate the exhibits present history.”

Virgil rolled his eyes at Logan, but there was something warm underneath his expression. “Fine,” he said, “but I bet I know more than you.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Folds in Time Universe Master Post

My Main Masterpost

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #analogical #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #mentioned moceit #mentioned janus sanders #mentioned remus sanders #time travel au #folds in time universe #creased hoodies #adriana writes

[wingedcat13]

Hiya! I just utterly blew through all four chapters of your superhero story and was curious what you're writing process was like? How long does it take you to write the various chapters?

Ahaha, good question my pal.

So, I generally write ‘from the hip’ - or just going in general, start to finish. Any time I take a break, I reread from the beginning of the portion I’m working on - for example, when I take a break on Villains Never Retire, I don’t reread Call Me Menace, just what I’ve already written so far - and edit any typos or weird phrasing as I go.

However, Synovus has largely been a writing exercise rather than a ‘serious’ endeavor. I definitely put effort into it, and I do take it seriously, but I’m approaching it with a lot more of a devil-may-care attitude. I didn’t even know who Synovus’ parents were until I started writing VNR 4.

(Y’all did want backstory)

Usually, I write in snippets. Dialogue comes most naturally to me, so I start there. Sometimes I won’t even know who the lines belong to, sometimes they’re the cornerstone for the whole character. If I’m writing in a world that exists, like when I’m working on FanFiction, I’ll pause whenever I need to look something up and figure out if X is available or if Y happened when I thought it did, usually accompanied by IRL research to shore up if the universe itself doesn’t provide an answer. (Not super in depth research, normally I just trawl Wikipedia)

When I’m working on my own works for worldbuilding, I go uh. Hm. I built the world for Tower’s Fall from the literal ground up. I know what regions are likely to grow what crops, the way the tectonic plates are laid, why the land is shaped the way that it is. Most of that will never come up, and if it doesn’t matter to you, I’m not going to tell you that kind of depth is critical - it’s a personal approach, because if I know down to my (in this case literal) bedrock, I won’t contradict myself. Things feel like they’re built on a steadier surface.

Of course, again, I didn’t start there. I started with a protagonist and a time span that shifted to become two protagonists and a different time span, and one country became three, and now I’m trying to figure out exactly how many Lords there would be to control X amount of land.

And banter. I started with a lot of banter. Heavier moments too - I have scenes where one or the other has a breakdown, and I may not ever use them. I may rewrite them entirely, have it be witnessed by a different character instead of described from the inside, or change the pieces. But I know the general vibe I wanted from it, and that gives me a chance to build.

Edit: realized I didn’t answer part of the question. It uh… it takes the time that it takes, unfortunately. I did Call Me Menace in a straight five hour shot, VNR has taken me a week or so for each piece. I don’t hold myself to a timeline or a word count goal - I just write. Sometimes that means a few thousand words. Sometimes it just means one, and that’s the word ‘FUCK’ written and deleted when I can’t figure out where to go from where the story’s at.

TL;dr - writing is like pottery. You can’t get a sculpture until you have a block of what looks vaguely like shit. Slap it down, then start shaping.

(And yes, I do actually type a lot of my writing into my phone. It’s a modern day notebook for me - something about the small size makes it easier to focus, to narrow the thoughts down into words? Again, a personal preference.)

#I hope this is what you’re looking for! #this also does not include the relentless spamming of friends and fellows with snippets and clips #to ask ‘is this good or am I stupid’ #and sometimes the answer is ‘go to sleep’ #ask box #I am not a model

[ddelline]

You encouraged people to ask away when it comes to your JJK fic, and I'm taking the invitation to ask if you've got a 5k essay about the way Gojo perceives the world with Six Eyes? Also any more thoughts on how jujutsu society functions, especially now that it's fallen apart? So much of your fic has me curious (I mean this as such a compliment, I want to live in the world you're building)

omggg my first ask. this feels like a special day ngl (I'm serious lol this made me happy). also crying in the club at the last sentence, thank u so much, I can't believe I get to talk at length about making up a bunch of headcanon shit it's been my dream since I started writing fic 🥺❤️‍🩹

ok enough of that, let's talk jjk *cue inhaling seagull meme* cut be here bc this really did become a f*king novel

so, the six eyes + gojō seeing through them is something I haven't put much (of my own) thought(s) into: gege has, for once, explained a phenomena we encounter in-verse quite well, lol. the six eyes are, as explained by gege, "eyes that can see cursed energy extremely clearly; even when covering his eyes, it's like he has high definition infrared vision" (fanbook pg 43, for the curious). since most living things generate CE (tōdō in yūji + tōdō v hanami; one notable exception being plants (hanami in the same fight)), that means seeing all CE traces/active output at all times. extrapolating from this, then, is being able to comprehend also surroundings made up of 'dead CE space', such as buildings and whatnot, since living organisms outputting CE move in/around/above them, etc. furthermore, the amount of information uptake + processing that 6E + limitless gives is insane; we know that the 6E allows satoru to see CE extremely clearly, which one would assume amounts to sight, ergo being able to make sense of something's shape through processing a cursory amount of information in the way we do when we see things as humans. but the 6E supplies information on a molecular level: as satoru explains in ch76, he's not just automatically sorting objects by CE amount at that point, but also by mass, shape, and speed; something he did manually before, implying that said information, now processed, digested, and understood per auto, is: 1) density x 2) volume = mass; 3) shape (speaks for itself); 4) speed = distance/time I think (lmao I'm not good at math), the latter of which also require a sophisticated level of processing + understanding of the object itself. the more I get into this the more I stray from the topic, I think. sry lol, I wasn't joking about that 5k essay. I also have ADD, in case that wasn't blatantly obvious through how incoherent this probs is.

ANYWAY, I think seeing w/o glasses/blindfold is basically like if you turn your 5k retina powerbook/sophisticated media editing computer up to max in both intensity and contrast (like a post-ironic ugly meme), AND THEN you add being abso-fucking-lutely bombarded with information, on top of this. it's like seeing a thing so clearly it's not even seeing that thing anymore. however, satoru's most likely so able to sort through and process information, that it sorts itself out: a very brief scene in S1E20 did give us somewhat of a look through his pov (veil is down and he's looking at yūji), and it's vaguely normal looking, save for the bright blue flame of CE bursting out from yūji. (by comparison, limitless is explained as a normal brain having all of that above subatomic comprehension thrust upon you an infinite amount of times, all at the same time, which makes you process things infinite times, making you seem as though you're comprehending things infinitely slowly.)

QUESTION NR 2 lmao my god this is already so long. this is something I've thought about A Lot. on the one hand I imagine, since it's highly unlikely that a US breach of jp borders in a large scale military op would go unnoticed - esp considering that a lot of people seem to live vaguely standard lives in as well as around the culling game barriers - that it'd cause global mass panic. it's stated that it's out there (source is some or several manga chapters I can't remember off the top of my head), as in out there out there, which ofc means all the world's top leaders gathering at a bunch of useless symposiums to talk crisis management, military intervention, and whatnot. on the other hand - and this is me talking as a EU citizen - I'd also imagine that a lot of the world would attempt to erect literal and figurative walls around japan, and leave it to its devices; the EU is useless in the EU; they're extremely unlikely to march in to what is essentially an apocalyptic warzone in which outcome can't be predicted, like at all. a bunch of industries are sure to topple, and the world economy is in fucking shambles, I imagine (and we're also kind of supposed to imagine, since the culling games open to a panicked jp government talking about plummeting stock + evacuating citizens). there'll be a lot of talking around it, but I think in the end, since sorcery/jujutsu is nearly strictly confined to jp land (w the exception of some diasporic tribes, as seen in the movie + prequel manga), I'd think much of the world is trying to contain it to japan, take what defensive measures they can, and just wait it out. all supply + import/export routes are most likely cut off by now, and most of Important People evacuated to allies, soooo. zombie apocalypse!world state impending, is what I sort of imagine. considering all of shibuya is fucking dead by dec 24th, this seems marginally supported canonically as well. well ok, not all of the above, but somewhat, anyway.

EDIT + ADD TO QUESTION 2 bc in my excitement I actually did not read this properly at all, lmao OTL ok so on jujutsu society: I'm still a lil hazy on exactly when it's implied that power couple okkotsu & inumaki massacred the jujutsu council; whether it's closer to shibuya or to the culling games/satoru's unboxing, it's likely to have either the one or the other effect. however, I think that it kind of is as I broached in adsr 6: jujutsu society has declared a state of martial law; it's kind of "you should follow protocol as usual", but also "we technically can't force you to do that bc anything you do, if tried in a court of law, will just default to "I did what I had to under martial law yr honor". I think it's interesting to think about curses actually being fucking invisible, like completely, to normal people; there's not much point, really, to jujutsu sorcerers or curse users suddenly being super obvious with what they're doing; it's not like normal people can comprehend it, anyway. there's bound to be a ton more 'unexplained' property destruction, lol, but also, that's already likely to happen with normal people out and about in a city that's been abandoned by its authorities and government. I think there'll be a bunch of frenetically working techies + scientists who'll work around the clock at supplying foreign military with the capabilities to see curses, so that people with time are able to see curses as well. what that means for jujutsu society... well, they'll have to survive sukuna/kenjaku/satoru/culling game mayhem first. I could imagine a bunch of new gen sorcerers reaching across the aisle to attempt to broker something with 'normal' society though, since it is out there, and they'll have to adapt to that. that said, bc of the above 'curses are invisible anyway, so what's the point' I also think that a lot of sorcerers (not curse users) kind of feel honor/duty bound to keep doing exactly what they're doing, which is protecting the general populace from curses: this should mean that they'll likely continue working as covertly as possible, since mass panic = likely to lead to outbreak of mass curses, when you consider curses = negative emotions experienced by many in specific spaces

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK, I'm sincerely sorry to have subjected u to this much of my brain, lol. EVEN MORESO NOW (ffs lol). if you (+possible others) made it this far holy shit. I hope u got something out of it. thx u for coming to my TED talk, I'm sad to report it's likely to be more of them

#fandom: jujutsu kaisen #jesus take the wheel #this is what it's like in my brain all the time re: jjk #thx for coming to my jjk talk #it was already SO LONG and I added more #lmao ffs

[roxannarambles]

hellooo again!!!! i was just a bit curious about how ur writing process goes! as in, do you find yourself re-reading your work excessively while writing it??? bc I find that I do it too much while writing fics or things of the like (I haven’t technically written a proper fic for goldenlight yet, but I’ve probably gotten closest to writing it with one of my recent posts, which was the catalyst to this realization actually lol) and I genuinely can’t tell if it’s to my benefit or detriment at this point, haha, pain! while on one point I do think it 100% helps me construct what I want in the fic in the way that I want, it also means that when I’m skimming it for any errors, I end up quite bored of my writing. so much so, that I end up straight up disliking it! in the post i mentioned earlier, I genuinely considered just drafting it for editing (which I’ve noticed I really don’t do with tumblr) or even deleting it, but slugged through posting it ultimately for the sake of the three or so hours I spent agonizing over it.

for my sanity, I decided to step away from the post for a few days so I would kinda forget it, and when I reread it recently??? i ended up really really liking it! i think it’s one of my fav goldenlight scenario-type things I’ve posted! (realized this sounds like I’m lowkey promoting myself lmao sorry I’m really just using it as an example) but i truly believed that I would hate it upon revisiting it! so I was just wondering if you had any experience with this type of thing, and if you found anything more sustainable than having to wait a few days? (I realize a beta reader would probably really help but I’m really not sure how I would go about getting one or if I would even really want to 💀)

if you don’t have any real solution to this, that’s fine, I’m aware that this might be a bit of a strange and maybe even nonsensical ask! bc I get the feeling this def could just be a writing thing that I have to learn to accept 💀💀💀 but I think just hearing your general writing process would be really cool too! I really do love how you write and all! (especially the way you write dialogue, I know I fangirl about it so much, but the dialogue you write is just so natural and organic and in-character it makes me want scream)

Hiya! :D I definitely read and re-read my writing a lot, and I think that's normal and helpful for most writers. It’s also very normal for the writing process to sometimes be genuinely a little painful or to be a struggle. (Myself definitely included) However, if you're re-reading your work so much that it has become torment, and you’ve become painfully sick of your own work, then I think that's probably a good sign to step back for just a little while, exactly like you did. Writing shouldn’t hurt that much.

To be perfectly honest, I have never found anything that works better then just simple time. I've built my writing process around it. I will spend an evening writing out my first draft on a section, and then wait a day. The next evening I will go over what I wrote, read it out loud to myself, etc., and do some editing. There is no way I can possibly hope to edit very effectively on the same night I've done the writing. There is just something magical that happens when you give your mind a short break from writing that lets you truly 'see' your own work again after the break. Usually just a day works for me, but sometimes I might need a longer break before I can look at it with fresh eyes again.

Mind you, being able to 'see' your own work again with fresh eyes is not always a happy thing; sometimes it just lets me realize all the places where my text falls short of the scene I had in my mind. This can feel very discouraging to me sometimes because when I was in the midst of writing it, it felt GREAT, but when I later return I realize what I wrote is just not expressing the scene very well and needs more work. However, over the years I've learned to accept this is a part of the process, and to trust in that process. Yes, the next night, the writing might look awful to me; but I will keep editing it and checking it again until it feels a lot closer to my goal. Over the years it seems like it's become a very predictable cycle for me now, and it looks a little like this . . .

The truth is writing is a cyclical process, and it can take multiple editing sessions before reaching a point you're happy with (or mostly happy with). But those editing sessions need to have time in between. What you experienced, staring at your fic until you hated it, only to come back later and realize you LOVED it, is something I go through a lot too, and I think is pretty common for writers. It might be kind of a bummer, but I truly believe taking a short break is one of the best things a writer can do. It's time consuming, yes, but, imo it makes the process so much easier and more fun, even if it does mean you're a bit slower.

There are a few other tricks for when you've stared at your own work for too long. One, read it out loud. That helps with seeing it in a fresh new way. Two, some folks suggest switching your text into a new font you don't normally use, because it can trick your brain into seeing errors that you normally read over and considering the text as something 'new.'

Three, as you suggested, a beta reader can help enormously because you can have the POV of somebody who's seeing the text for the first time. It's understandable if you're a little wary of beta reading. It can be stressful having somebody else critique your work, esp. if you've had a negative experience in the past with a bad beta or a rotten teacher at school. So if you don't want to do it, don't feel bad; that doesn't make you a bad writer. You don't need one. But if you're open to the experience, it can also be really great. Low-stakes beta reading is a great way to start; you can ask one of your friends to read something and just offer their general reactions (or you could ask their opinions on specific parts that are troubling you). If you don't have friends who'd be interested, hop on the Discord server and just ask; there are loads of friendly people on there who would love to help out.

I hope this helps out a little! Everyone’s process is different, of course, but this is what’s worked for me. (Also keep in mind there will probably always be some writing that you hate or think isn’t your best stuff, as writers are almost always their own worst critic. But there’s a good chance others will still enjoy it, because they are reading to have fun, not reading to edit!)

#asks #fireflygonesupernova #goldenlight #writing #thank you for the great ask and all your comments #it's always fun to hear how other writers experience the process