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flanaganfilm · 2 years

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Good day Mr Flanagan. please what does "the rest is confetti" mean to you and in the context it was used in hill house??

Okay, here we go. Buckle up for a long read.

To answer this, I've got to explain a little bit about what was happening and where I was when I sat down to write episode 10 of The Haunting of Hill House.

Hill House was not a fun shoot. The picture above is from very early in production, when I was still chubby and happy.

It was my first foray into television. I was absolutely terrified that I'd mess it up. So I'd opted to direct all of the episodes myself, figuring that - if nothing else - I'd have no one else to blame if it went south.

It was the most grueling professional experience of my career. The shoot was by no means a smooth one, every day was an uphill battle from a budgetary perspective, and between the three giant production entities involved with the production, I spent a lot of time fighting over the creative and logistical elements of the series.

I began losing weight. I was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.

By the end of the shoot, I had dropped almost 40 lbs.

I was very depressed. Every day was a battle, and for the first time in my career, I wasn't excited to go to work in the morning. We were fighting for basic resources, fighting for the show we wanted, and even fighting amongst ourselves by the end. It was grueling.

We hadn't written all of the scripts when we started production. I believe we had finished through episode 7, but the rest of the scripts had to be finished while we were already shooting.

We'd mapped everything out in the writers room, and I had great support on the other episodes, but I was writing the finale solo. I'd thought I'd be able to juggle it with everything else. I quickly fell behind.

I finally got to the script about halfway through production. I'd work on it between takes at the monitor, and then get home to our tiny rental house in Atlanta, where Kate was waiting with our baby son. (One of the rare bright spots of this shoot came when Kate found out she was pregnant about halfway through production. We even named our daughter Theodora, in honor of her origins.)

I'd typically fall down from exhaustion when I got home, but I had to push through it and work on the script. My weekends were spent shotlisting and prepping for upcoming episodes. We didn't have enough time to stay ahead of prep, so every available day was used for that... I went three months without a single day off at one point.

I'd sit up late staring at the script. I was in a dark, dark place. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and feeling like I lived in an eternal present. Each day bled into the next and it didn't feel like there was an end in sight. That feeling of unreality was heightened because we kept returning to the same sets, same locations, and even the same scenes throughout the 100 shooting-day production. Stepping back into the exact room we had shot in days or weeks or even months ago made the whole thing feel absolutely surreal. Making movies is always an non-linear experience, but this one felt particularly so... it was like the days of our lives were happening to us all out of order.

I remember feeling something like despair creeping into my daily experience on the show. And I remember dwelling on that when I got into the scene work of episode 10.

As I worked through the draft, I recall that despair coloring a lot of what was on the page. My filter was breaking down. There's a monologue at the beginning of the episode where Steven's wife Leigh (played by my dear friend Samantha Sloyan) spews out a torrent of eviscerating insults about Steve's value as a writer. That is just me vomiting onto myself. She was voicing all of my deepest insecurities about myself at the time, and of what I was doing with this series.

She says "Is anything real before you write it, Steve? The things you write about, they're real. Those people are real, their feelings are real, their pain is real - but not to you, is it. Not until you chew it up, digest it, and shit it out onto a piece of paper and even then, it's a pale imitation at best."

This was the mindset I was in for a lot of the shoot. The writing became a reflection of a lot of that turmoil, and I knew who I was referring to in that monologue - I was talking about my family. I was talking about how much of their lives I'd used as building material for this show. I was talking about the fact that I'd lost two loved ones to suicide, and seen what it had done to my mother in particular. And I knew I was using - possibly even exploiting - those people for this series.

There's a lot of despair in this episode. The Red Room, as we conceived it, was a place that would feed upon those emotions. Grief, sadness, loss... those were the real ghosts of our series, and where our characters find themselves at the start of the finale. They're being slowly digested - eaten alive - by those feelings.

So finally, it came time to write Nell's final scene with her siblings. I knew from the outline we'd constructed in the writers room what this was supposed to accomplish - she was supposed to be their salvation. She was supposed to take all of these feelings that we'd been wrestling with and finally provide catharsis... finally say something that would free everyone.

I remember sitting with a blinking cursor for a long time. The Crain siblings had just turned and seen Nellie standing by the door, and suddenly were able to hear her speak. But what should she say? What would I say? What would I want someone to say to me?

What she ultimately says lays bare a lot of what I was thinking about when it comes to grief. It exists outside of linear time, much as I felt I existed at the time. That sense of eternal present, that sense of a nonlinear eternity of moments and memories - it all came out in her speech to her brothers and sisters.

I remember feeling, looking at my insane present and looking back at my past, how strangely overwhelmed I was by memories. That I wasn't experiencing time in a straight line, and hadn't been for a while - for the better part of a year, I'd felt more like I was standing in a whirlwind of moments. "Our moments fall around us like..." Nell said, and I recall sitting back and trying to find the words.

"Rain," for certain, but there was something too uniform about that. The moments of life as I experienced them weren't that orderly, they weren't that small. They didn't fall the same way. Some sailed by, fast and unremarkable, while others lingered in front of me, twisting and stretching. So it was a good word, but not the right word. I left it on the page though.

"Snow" was my next attempt. Better, in that I imagined the snow blowing in the wind, swirling and dancing and feeling more organic. More chaotic. More like life. But for some reason, the word that stuck with me, the word I felt Nell Crain would connect with was...

"Confetti."

And that was because I was thinking not of Victoria Pedretti at this point, but of Violet McGraw.

Violet played Young Nell, and I wondered what she might have said if she experienced time this way. As an adult, Nell was despairing. Nell was overwhelmed. But as a child... there was an innocence to the word. There was a joy to the word.

I imagined moments falling around her, this little girl with the big smile and the wide eyes. Her moments would be colorful. They would be of different shapes and sizes, some falling fast and some falling slow, flipping and turning and dancing in the air, independent of the others. Sparkling, whirling, doing lazy summersaults as they sauntered down to Earth.

I thought of myself, and of the members of my family. I thought of those we'd lost. I realized what I hoped for them, and for us all, in the end... was to look upon that mosaic of experience, that avalanche of days and minutes and moments... and to smile with some of the joy we had as children.

And this, I thought, was something that gave me hope. This gave me a glimpse of some kind of salvation for them. This was also how I hoped my life might seem if I was a ghost - a cascade of color and light and shape and movement, something I could dance in.

So Nell smiled and said... "or confetti."

It stuck with me. The rest of her monologue gets heavy again, and gets to the real point of the show - the point of the whole series, if I'm honest - and that's forgiveness.

I figured the only thing that would let the Crain children out of the Red Room was to be forgiven. I thought of the losses in my own family, and I thought of what I wished for my mother and for my aunts and uncles and cousins and I tried to pour that into her final words.

"I loved you completely, and you loved me the same," she said, "that's all." And this was the point I wanted the most to make. That at the end of our life, if we can say this about each other, the rest doesn't matter. The rest is that rainstorm, or that blizzard, that fell around this one central truth, and maybe built itself in piles around it, to the point we lost sight of it along the way.

And I thought again of that little girl, and almost as an afterthought, wrote "The rest is confetti."

I liked the way it sounded, but I was insecure about the line. I almost took it out, in fact. I remember asking Kate to read the scene and talking about that last line with her. "Is it too cute?" I wondered. She was on the fence. "Depends on how it's acted," she said, and I figured she was right. We could always take it out if it didn't work. The scene could end with "I loved you completely, and you loved me the same. That's all."

Why not shoot it and see what happened.

I turned in the script, we published it quickly so that we could start breaking it down and prepping it. And the next morning I was back on set. I'd deal with episode 10 when it came down the pipe again, sometime in the coming months. We had a lot of shooting to get through before I had to worry about it.

I recall Netflix asking me to cut a lot of that monologue, and I remember them also having questions about the "confetti" line. I pointed out that it didn't cost us any extra to shoot it all, it was only words, and fought to keep the script intact.

Ultimately, they insisted I make a series of cuts on the page. I begrudgingly agreed, but left Nell's speech alone. I made superficial cuts around it, throughout the draft, and even considered changing the font size to fool them into thinking it had gotten shorter (I ultimately was told I wouldn't fool anyone and not to risk starting a war). But Nellie's final goodbye stayed intact.

It must be said - Victoria Pedretti SLAUGHTERED this scene.

By the time we got around to filming it, things had never been worse for the production. There was almost nothing left for a lot of us. Tensions were sky-high, resources had been exhausted completely, and we were all ready to give up.

Filming in the mold-ridden Red Room was depressing, morose, and led to a lot of arguments and unpleasantness. The room itself just felt gross, always, and we were in there for days at a time. The last thing we had to shoot in there was Nellie's goodbye.

Victoria came to set having to push through pages of monologue, and she did so with captivating bravado. I recall being teary-eyed at the monitor watching her work. And when we finally made it to the last line, I watched her deliver it with... a smile. A sincere, innocent, longing, joyful smile. A smile informed by the sadness, grief, and loss of her own situation, of her own life... but a smile that finds forgiveness and grace after all. Pedretti knew how to say the line, and how that word would work.

And as she said it, I knew it would stay in the show.

Over the years, that sentence has become something of a tagline for The Haunting of Hill House. I'm always a bit mystified and touched when I see people approach me with the line on T-shirts, or even tattooed on their bodies.

I started signing it with autographs back in 2020 after enough fans asked me to. Now it's my go-to when I sign anything related to Hill House.

The line, for me, represents a lot of things.

It's about the insane, chaotic, non-linear experience of making that show. It's about trying to find and hold onto joy, even in the grips of despair.

It's about the way the moments of our lives aren't linear, not really, and how we may be unable to understand them as we exist in their flurry. It's about finding hope, innocence and forgiveness in the final reckoning.

And it's about how, outside of our love for each other, the rest is just... well, it's fleeting. It's colorful. It's overwhelming. It's blinding. It's dancing. And, if we look at it right, it's beautiful. But it's also light. It's tinsel. It flits and dances and falls and fades, it's as light as air.

The rest is the stuff that falls around us, and flits away into nothing.

It's the love that stays.

#haunting of hill house #the rest is confetti #that was a very long story #man I was not okay while we were shooting that #forgiveness #heal

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blkkizzat · 8 months

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ღ𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟!𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Thrilling Ghouls

Kinktober Prompts: Breeding, Dacryphilia, Aphrodisiac Synopsis: Catching him in a lie, you suspect your boyfriend Toji is cheating on you. Where does he keep disappearing to once a month that keeps him away for often days at a time. You're fed up. You've made up your mind this time to follow him but are you ready for what you discover? CW: AU. Most warnings for P2 really. Slightly dubcon-y. Bully/mean/teasing Toji. Bratty/crazy gf reader. Rough sex. Drug ref. Werewolf transformation but this isn't that furry shit lol. Omegaverse themes I borrow heavily from but I'm not following the rules of it faithfully (I don't even know them myself lol) WC: 4k of 10.4k Lightly black fem coded but no descriptors.

A/N: This one took a bit longer expected as I recently caught a cold, boooo! But I'm realizing even in my fics I intend to be PWPs I still need to set the mood and a plot springs forth lmfao. Plus I had fun actually trying to write a bit of horror in too! I decided to split into 2 parts because of the delay already.

Big shout out to an irl bestie @sairotonin for drawing a sketch of Werewolf!Toji for her inktober for me to use in my gfx. TY sis you a real one!!

Enjoy!

“In the next 500ft, turn left.”

This was going to be the third goddamn left the car navigation told you to take in the last 20 minutes. You were ninety-nine percent sure you had been going in circles and were now lost as shit at night in the middle of nowhere.

You glance at your phone sitting in the dash-caddy.

One measly bar.

The further you traveled, the more the service bars were dwindling as well.

Shit, you had 3 full bars last time you looked.

Opting to keep ahead straight instead of turning, you cross-check your destination via the spy monitoring app you had shamelessly downloaded on your boyfriend Toji’s phone.

Toji’s current location was 45 miles outside of the city and it had been a good 10 miles since you last saw any kind of highway. The area you were in was a mix between nature reserve and private property so not even GPS could pin down the exact directions to his whereabouts.

Sigh.

You had never wanted to be That Girl™.

You know, the ones who would sneak peaks at their boyfriend’s phones, were super insecure about any interaction their man had with the opposite sex and ran down on them while they were out to catch them in the act of cheating.

But you were a woman at the end of her rope.

What else could you do?

For a few days every month Toji would simply disappear.

The various excuses he gave usually centered around his work. You didn’t know exactly what he did, but you knew enough to know most of it was dangerous and wasn’t what good society would consider legal.

Toji had scolded you before for asking too many details.

For your own safety.

He would say with an arrogant smirk.

But even when working you had always been able to get a hold of him after a few hours. It was just this one particular job he would completely drop off the face of the earth for. It annoyed you, sure, but Toij’s work never followed him home so you didn't have complaints.

That is, until you had finally moved-in with him and Megumi.

Truly, you were already like a little family.

Megumi, who had just recently started preschool, had been quick to warm up to you ever since you and Toji first introduced you to him a few months prior to that.

But living together pushed things to a whole other level. Megumi would follow you around like a lost pup and often opted to sit in your lap rather than Toji’s.

Not to mention throw a near fit if you weren’t the one to tuck him in goodnight. (Toji would never admit he was a bit jealous and would only grumble slightly that it was less of a hassle for him if you did it so you should just do it from now on).

You never even realized you had such a mothering instinct, being on the same page as Toji about no more kids, until you looked into those little emerald eyes of Gumi’s and absolutely melted.

You had grown so close that the little boy unknowingly let it slip once while Toji was MIA on that job, that he was glad Daddy went on his daddy breaks once a month so you both could have fun together by yourselves.

You tried to keep your reactions in check for Megumi but that revelation completely shook you.

A “daddy break” didn’t sound much like a work trip to you which spiked your anxiety and caused you to spiral into overthinking.

Did he need a break from you too as well?

You couldn't very well grill a 4-year old and you didn’t have the nerve to just ask Toji straight out.

So you did the only thing you could think of at the time and that was to complain to your good friend Tsukumo over drinks a few days later after Toji returned.

Tsukumo, who always seemed to have the wrong answer for everything, simply told you to do the ‘smart’ thing and download a monitoring app on his phone that would log is calls, texts and whereabouts.

You initially balked at her.

Tracking Toji had never crossed your mind.

Outside of this, Toji had never given you a reason to doubt him and you wanted to respect his privacy and trust, especially trust as you knew he didn’t let many people get close to him at all.

True, he wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming man you ever dated. You were well aware he had his many skeletons as well as ex-hookups. But Toji for the most part had been content with his gambling then coming home to you and Megumi.

He wasn’t the type to ‘run the streets with the boys (he had no boys tbh), you had only ever known him to have the occasional drink with Shiu when he wasn’t out gambling.

You had almost refused to do such a thing… That is until Tsukumo posed the question:

What’s more important Y/N– your peace of mind or his trust?

And Y/N, is trust really what’s important here at all if he is in fact already taking advantage of yours?

Touché.

Tsukumo had you there.

“Besides, you think that old dinosaur is even going to notice an extra app on his phone in the first place?”

Tsukumo quipped, throwing back a shot of sake and jiggling the empty container at the bartender for more.

“You just got rid of his old flip phone last year. I’m surprised he can even use a touchscreen without punching a hole through it. Just delete the app once you’ve seen what you needed to see.”

Tsukumo gave you this advice like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ignoring her digs at Toji’s age, and maybe it was the 3 bottles of sake the both of you had blown through in the last hour, but you were starting to think she might be onto something.

“Mmm, on second thought, might as well keep it on there. Men like Fushiguro are dogs that need to be kept on tight leashes.”

Tsukumo grinned at you with a wink before turning her attention back to the bartender.

You still didn’t know then if you would actually go through with it.

Nevertheless, here you are now at 11:15 PM at night about to pull up on your boyfriend thanks to Tsukumo’s advice to find out once and for all if Toji was cheating on you.

You had dropped Megumi off at his best friend Yuji’s for the night, thanking Yuji’s parents for watching him and feeling guilty for lying to them that you and Toji had a date night.

Almost there.

You are within 2 miles of arriving at the vicinity of where the monitoring app says Toji is.

However, your anxieties were getting the best of you as you drove in near tears.

You turn up your music louder, the booming bass distracting you from how much darker and creepier it gets the further you drive into the wooded area.

Sighing again, you had no idea how this would turn out but you knew the result would determine whether you would be listening to Positions by Ariana Grande or Playing Games by Summer Walker on repeat during the drive back.

☠

Barely a half mile later, you see the engine light of your car flash. The pungent odor of burning oil fills the car as a plume of smoke escapes out from under the hood.

Goddamn it, Toji.

“Y/N, make sure to go get ‘er an oil change while I’m gone. Ya got like 15 good miles left on ‘er.” Toji’s voice rang in your mind.

Well the big lunk he was wrong.

You had driven at least 33 miles so far.

You mentally cussed him again.

Toji was the one who was supposed to change your oil, he used your car more than you did. Only opting to use his own blacked out unplated and unlicensed car for jobs like he was on now.

You wouldn’t have even left the house if it wasn’t for his sketchy cheating headass.

Okay, so you hadn’t exactly confirmed that just yet, but you were pissed and until you confirmed otherwise, right now he was a cheater and everything about this situation was his fault.

Pulling over to the side of the dirt road before you caused further damage to your car, you weighed your options.

Option 1: Call AAA

You had zero bars though.

Fuck.

Option 2: Wait here in the safety of the car until morning.

You would still have zero bars and you might miss Toji, making this whole trip fruitless.

If he beat you home in the morning and found you gone with Megumi at Yuji’s with the sad excuse for a 'date night' lie you gave, you would never hear the end of it.

He would taunt you into oblivion that your silly ass drove all the way up here unto the woods for your car to break down cause you were too busy being a psycho bitch to remember to get an oil change.

Option 3: Walk on foot the rest of the way to Toji.

Really the only viable option you had.

It was a good 12 miles or so back to the highway, you didn’t know how many turns you had made since then and you doubt you could make it back on foot anyway. If you were going to walk a few miles to get service again you might as well walk to where Toji was.

Sure if he wasn’t cheating you would still get ridiculed, but at least you could get a ride home.

And if he was cheating, you would hot wire his car (one of the few useful things he did teach you) and that motherfucker and his whore could find their own way home.

Resolving yourself to walk, you put on Toji's hoodie that fortunately was still in the backseat from him last using your car to go to the gym.

You really should have put more thought into planning this before you left. Besides Toji’s oversized worn hoodie that reached your mid-thighs all you were wearing was a thin white shirt and black spandex shorts.

You didn’t even have sneakers or boots, as you looked down at your fuzzy black slippers you mostly only wore outside to run short errands like dropping off Megumi at preschool or picking up groceries.

Thankfully, you did have a small flashlight in the glove compartment though in case of emergencies like this.

Flashlight in tow, you step outside of your stalled car and immediately suck in a worried breath as the weight of the chilly night settles over you like a heavy cloak.

You only have a mile and a half trek but the dirt road that stretches out before you looks endless as it disappears into the obscurity of the thick shroud of fog surrounding you.

The flashlight doesn’t do much to cut through the intense density of condensation. You had only made it a mere 20 feet from your car but you can just barely make out its faint outline.

Swallowing, you put on your bravest face and fix your gaze forward.

The reflections of your flashlight casts shifty patterns on the mist in your peripheral vision and you do your best to ignore the chill that creeps up your shoulders.

“Fuck you, Toji.”

You mumble half-heartedly, pulling the hood over head.

You didn’t really mean it though. Would-be-cheater or not more than anything you wished he was here with you now.

You were freezing, tired and all you could think about was how warm and safe you would feel in Toji’s arms. Even if you were mad at him.

You pick up the pace, wanting to get to him sooner.

Almost more unnerving than the fog itself, the forest around you is as quiet as a grave.

There are no chirps of crickets, nor hoots of owls.

Not even in the crisp cold of fall does the wind rustle through the trees, everything is silent.

The haunting nature around you seems to hold its breath as if it knows you're an unwelcome intruder who has trespassed too far.

You don’t dare peer into the trees which look taller in the darkness, closing in tightly on the dirt road. They are ghastly silhouettes of their former selves blocking any moonlight to help guide your way.

You shiver as you feel as if you are being watched from a distance.

The only noise you hear is the soft crunching of rocks and leaves beneath your feet with every unsure step you take forward.

You can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread as a stray tear runs down your cheek.

You couldn’t get to Toji soon enough.

Though you still didn’t have any service the GPS updated as much as it could in roaming, you were so close.

As you continue forward a shadow on the path catches your eye in the foggy distance.

Your heart quickens as you inch closer, your anticipation mingling with fear.

Shapes soon begin to take form and the harsh reality dawns upon you.

A pack of wolves.

Their shadowy figures coalesce before you through the fog as they take stock of you.

You start to feel queasy as you see their red-stained muzzles dripping with the blood of their latest kill. The grotesque carcass of a deer practically stripped to the bone lay lifeless under their enormous paws.

Their eyes, fierce and predatory, meet yours with a chilling intensity as the feeble beam of your flashlight washes over them. The deer, although large, you know is not enough to quell hunger from beasts of their size.

With a shaky breath you slowly retreat, not wanting to further agitate their already aggravated predatory senses.

Then you hear it.

From what seems to be the darkest reaches of the night, a sound reverberates from the trees, through the forest and beyond that's unlike anything you've ever heard before.

The howl that tears through the stillness is so chilling you instantly feel the lamentation that carries the weight of centuries of primal power down in the very marrow of your bones.

Even the wolves snap their heads to attention and bow their heads as if the sound announced the presence of a creature much higher on the food chain... something more ancient and malevolent…

...something terrifyingly unhuman.

The body racking shiver you experience is so intense it has you sprinting at full speed before your mind, frozen from fear, can even process you are moving.

You burst through the dense trees, leaving the road as your heart pounds like a drum in your chest and tears stream freely down your cheeks to soak the edge of Toji’s sweatshirt.

The tangled underbrush of the forest whips the soft skin of your legs and the forest itself seems to conspire against you as you navigate the obstacle course of branches, logs and large rocks all seemingly with a mission to slow you down.

You can hear the chilling howls of the wolves you saw on the road call out behind you, giving chase.

The sounds of their footfalls grow closer with every passing second.

Terrifying as they are, they hold no candle against the howl that sent you running and your body continues to propel you forward.

Panic frazzles your senses and you make the tragic error of trying to steal a glance back behind you before directly colliding with a large cedar.

Groaning from the impact you reel as you try to gather yourself, clinging to the tree for support.

You hear a twig snap behind you and you whirl around as you are faced with a largest gray wolf out of the pack who had been chasing you.

The alpha wolf’s teeth glint menacingly as their breath escapes in visible puffs in the frigid night air.

Too late to try to make a run for it again, you whimper as you resign yourself to your fate. You slid down the large tree to bury your face in your knees.

Was this it?

Was this how you died?

You weren’t even able to see Toji after coming all this way.

You also wanted to be able to hug Megumi one last time and maybe knock the daylights out of Tsukumo for her horrible ass idea.

But ultimately this was all your fault.

You could be snuggled up with Gumi on the sofa with snacks watching Anpanman but your dumbass had to go galavanting off into the middle of the woods like a fucking lunatic and now you’re about to be eaten by a wolf.

You could feel the wolf’s overbearing presence as it approached you but you couldn’t bear to look up. You’d rather spend your final moments thinking of Toji and Megumi.

Yet despite your impending doom, your head did snap up once you felt a rough tongue gently lick your ankles and curiously sniff at the ends of Toji's hoodie covering your legs.

The wolf was more than intimidating up close as its giant muzzle was the size of your entire head.

However the wolf regarded you cautiously like it almost recognized you before releasing its own chillingly deep howl and promptly running off.

Wait– T-The hell?!

You sat there at the trunk of the tree trying to process the interaction that just took place but you didn’t have much time to ponder as you heard something else approaching you rapidly.

The sound of snapping twigs and heavy, uneven footfalls don’t seem to be that of a wolf, renewing the sensation of dread through your body.

Your heart races in your chest as the ominous sounds of the being looming evermore closer become more pronounced.

From the shadows emerges a monstrous figure.

The fog doesn’t reach this deep into the forest and the moonlight that peeks between the trees glimmers on its enlarged taut muscles.

Its eyes, red, burn like fiery amber.

Fierce and resolute you can see them pierce through the darkness long before you can make out any features of the creature's face.

What you think upon first glance must be a demonic apparition from your worst nightmares ends up being–

Toji?!

As he steps into a beam of moonlight, the transformation before you is complete.

Toji’s once-human and feet hands have become formidable claws with nails like blades, his face remains mostly unchanged with the exception of his mouth which in his snarl reveals rows of gleaming, razor-sharp teeth.

He is still mostly human in appearance but you can tell he stands taller, nearly 8 feet.

The thicker body hair on his forearms bristles with raw power.

He was completely bare save for the tattered jeans barely hanging on his body that had torn from the sheer size of his enormous muscularity in this form.

Each step he takes towards you makes your heart skip a beat yet you stare transfixed, unable to look away and your tears increase.

Was this terrifying otherworldly apparition the boyfriend you had been searching for?

Time stands still in that haunting moment as Toji’s eyes bore into your soul with a predatory intensity.

His hunger and primal instincts radiates off of him like a palpable force.

“T-T-Toji?”

You cautiously inquire through your quiet sobs.

“Y/N?! What the fuck do you think y’er doing out here?”

Toji snarls back at you. His growl seems to cause the very atmosphere to vibrate and the earth beneath you quakes as your body involuntarily quivered with fear.

Toji thought he must have been losing his goddamn mind when he caught onto your scent earlier but here you were like a lost little lamb to the slaughter before him.

He came out onto the woods to be alone, away from civilization and away from you and Megumi during his monthly transformations.

It was safer that way, for all of you.

You had been fortunate the local wolf pack had acknowledged him as their Alpha and recognized his scent on you.

But there were far worse dangers in the forest besides them.

Toji wouldn’t be able to protect you like he was now.

Not with you needing protection from him too.

Protection from him as not only was it a full moon, it was a harvest moon, a mating moon.

The primal urge to rip you apart was only truncated by the more intense carnal urge to mate with you. Toji wanted to claim you as his and fuck you so hard into the girthy cedar behind you the entire tree would topple over by its roots.

He had wanted to claim you as his mate for a while now.

Even moved you in with him and Megumi as the final step but you couldn’t wait for that, could you?

You had managed to track him somehow all the way out here and throw his whole plan into the shitter.

He could barely control himself in this form as it is and now your scent, blubbering cries and the fucking harvest moon were sending him with full force into a fierce rut.

“T-Toji w-what is this!? W-what’s happened to you!? W-what are you doing out here?!”

Worry saturates your voice as you choke out your questions in rapid fire cries not giving him time to even respond.

Toji fights the predatory instinct in him who sees you as his prey and if your gaze wasn’t so focused on trying to read his face for answers you surely would have noticed him fully bricked near bursting out of his worn jeans.

You looked so appetizing.

He needed you.

However, Toji could tell your nerves were completely shot and the slightest twitch of his muscles toward you had you almost jumping out of your skin like a little bunny rabbit.

“Y-Y/N…”

His voice strained itself into a murmur as he attempted to do his best to lull you into some sort of security so he could explain things calmly to you.

Yet the way he was near salivating, drool dripping from his canines as he panted and towered over you did anything but make you feel secure.

You mistook his lust for bloodthirstiness.

“Just calm down. It’s OK.”

Toji needed you to be calm like he needed you to take steadier breaths if he was going to successfully win the tumultuous war he was fighting against his instincts to pounce on you.

There is an oppressive tension between the two of you and he can tell you are also fighting against your fight or flight reflexes.

Good girl.

It would be disastrous if you did something foolish, no telling what might happen then.

But unfortunately for the both of you, your fits of emotion and impulses are what had your crazy ass out here in the first place.

The pressure had officially gotten to you.

Toji’s lies, your car, the woods, the wolves, everything leading up to this point bubbled over because the last thing you wanted to be told right now was to ‘just calm down’.

You snapped.

“Ok? OK?! OKAY?!...TOJI WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT THIS IS O.K. RIGHT NOW!?”

You were practically hysterical as you yelled at him, momentarily forgetting your fears of Toji’s new form.

The trigger of being told to 'calm down' in a situation where you clearly had every right to feel every fucking emotion you wanted won out over everything else.

“MY CAR BROKE DOWN BECAUSE OF YOU DOING GOD KNOWS WHAT WITH WHOEVER THE FUCK OUT HERE, I LITERALLY WAS JUST CHASED BY WOLVES, ALMOST EATEN, AND Y-YOU… Y-YOU-”

A crackling snap came from above you and you realized Toji’s claws had completely ripped a large chunk out of the tree right above your head.

Your tantrum had in turn pushed him over the edge as well.

His irises flared intensely at you as you quivered under his gaze in fear.

He would have you but first, he would play with you a bit.

Things never happened the easy way with you.

Yet, that’s also exactly the way Toji liked it too. That's why he'd put up with you thus far.

A malevolent smirk dons Toji's features as his simple command issues an unsettling tremor running down into the depths of your being.

“Run.”

P2 HERE!

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: Count on Tsukumo to always given the wrong fuckin’ advice. Lmfao! Or was it the right advice in this case? Hmm we will see what happens next!

Smutty goodness in the next part. This part was just to set the horror mood!

I promise this fic isn't as nearly as long as Ghostface!Choso. It's looking to be about 8k total and I have 3.5k of P2 finished lol.

Reblog if you are both submissive and breedable for Werewolf!Toji, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

ღTaglistღ:

@callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @briefrebelfanalmond @nikkitc0703 & @dancingwithdeities (prone bone coming in p2 just for u sweets!) LMK below if you would like to be tagged in P2. For all kizzatober fic tags comment on m.list.

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mask-of-prime · 1 month

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BIONICLE: Ta-Wahi Travel Poster - [PROTOTYPE]

In a graphic design course dedicated to Adobe Illustrator, we were tasked to make vacation spot posters in the style of the ones from the 1950's. Our professor said it could be fictional, or even a real place we're fond of. Part of the assignment was to use the Symbol Sprayer, repetition of shapes, and the Warp Tool.

First thing that came to mind for me was a location in Bionicle, such as Ta-Wahi Beach, the first place you wake up to as Takua in Mata-Nui Online Game.

I wouldn't be surprised if the assets of MNOG were made in Illustrator and/or Flash (which I think the latter once belonged to MacroMedia at the time if we really wanna talk about feeling old).

Will I make other posters for the other Koro's/Wahi's? Um... it sounds like having them all together would be really cool, but if I do, I kinda wanna revise this current one and learn to have an easier time making them and/or possibly make them a little more straightforward and easy to make out. Definitely should go for the classic TradeMarker font if I do (since this isn't an assignment anymore, let alone one being monitored/graded by a professor who also teaches typography :p)

Made in 2022.

#BIONICLE #Mata-Nui Online Game #MNOG #Ta-Wahi #Ta-Koro #My Art

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copperbadge · 9 months

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A horror trope that I very much enjoy is the "haunted book" -- a book that affects the reader in some way, like the Necronomicon driving people mad, or Dr. Mabuse's book that hypnotizes its reader into doing his bidding. It recently had a nice moment in the Magnus Archives, with the Leitner subplot, and there's even a hint of it in Frankenstein, when Victor reads the work of a scientist that his professors dismiss as nonsense and becomes obsessively deranged studying the subject matter.

So it's not that I think it's time for a revival and lord knows the word "reboot" has begun to stink of soulless profit (I think we're one, maybe two flops from a reboot of the MCU). I'm not the most current on horror media in any case so maybe it's been done, but if not I do think we oughta start considering the idea of a haunted phone app.

Apps are already designed for this, anyway. In our current era, a lot of retail "apps" are just reskinned browsers that load an optimized version of the company's website, and the goal of most apps and websites is to keep you in the app/website. (Which is why the google mail and tumblr apps both have internal web browsers.) A lot of phone games are designed to keep you in the game and continually redirect you towards microtransactions, and even apps that aren't games often gamify use; "gamification" has come to be a polite euphemism for "creating addictive circumstances".

Alongside this, a lot of recent cults and cultlike organizations have determined that straight religion is not the best way in anymore, and are coming in sidelong through MLMs (Nexium), wellness and dietary orthodoxies (Bikram Yoga, a number of insta/tiktok orthorexia gurus), or political movements (Qanon). So you get a cult, set up like a business, with an app you use for your business -- or even a cult with a "wellness" app that monitors your sleep, eating, location (wait, that's just FitBit) -- and slowly it gamifies you right into attempting to raise a Great Old One using the power of your downstream or a nice big helping of olive oil coffee.

Although I hate those thinkpieces/art pieces that are all about "you're so busy on your phone you can't appreciate the world around you, remember when we read real paper books" so I would require that the protagonist defeat the evil also using a phone app, or at the very least blind the evil using the flashlight function. Locking the book away in a library app and then putting the phone on airplane mode is a nice resolution, followed perhaps by it lighting up even though it's offline with a message "someone is attempting to locate this phone" as the post-credits stinger for the sequel.

This thought brought to you by Duolingo, which recently fed me, in succession, the task of translating from Italian the phrases

Who do you see in the mirror?

We open the curtains and see the light.

The pillows and blankets are red.

#horror #writing #story ideas #haunted books

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joe-leviari · 3 months

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Simon Ghost Riley is annoyed.

" So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other. " || Ghost listens in to you having sex ||

for adults only; NSFW; sexual themes; stalker!Ghost; smut; other COD characters briefly mentioned; backstory for main character; afab!reader x konig; no use of y/n; English is not my first language, feel free to privately message me to correct any mistakes.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, they need you.

You being the highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire of a now nearly collapsed criminal enterprise, and the only one left alive with the intel that they need.

But that’s alright, because, as it turns out, you need them.

Them being the task force 141, the very same that has been sistematically dismantling the above mentioned criminal empire and hunting down the above mentioned highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire. Little-fucking-nuisance, according to Simon.

So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, judging by the way Gaz has been telling you stories from his childhood, the way Price has been calling you silly nicknames through the crackling comms, and the way Soap has taken the habit to fully lean into you every time you show him something stupid on your phone, the only one who doesn’t really like you is Ghost himself.

Not liking you is fine; that’s something he can deal with for the simple fact that he does not really have to deal with it. Disliking you is a mere subjective perception that he acknowledges in passing, almost distractingly, when he lays his eyes on you. The real problem is that he does not fucking trust you. Now that’s something he has to deal with; that’s HIS duty, that’s HIS team.

Sure, you are constantly monitored, they are not stupid: you have lived most of your life like a criminal, surrounded by criminals. You have the resources, the knowledge, and fairly good reasons to fuck them over. That’s why you are never left alone and never trusted to carry any weapons unless strictly necessary. Your location is always traced, your heartbeat is polygraph-tested every time you have to be questioned. The thing is, you were very well made aware of all this when you signed on the dotted line the day that Laswell came to see you in the prison’s infirmary.

A few days later, there you were, with a bruised face and an even more bruised ego, getting yourself nice and comfy in the room down the hall.

So it was for the sake of HIS team that Simon had to break into the room down the hall to carefully bug it. With a bit of patience, he will find something compromising that will force Laswell - who seemed to take a shine on you for whatever bloody reason - to send you back to prison. Or anywhere else, really, as long as you were out of sight. And with that, out of mind.

Much to Ghost's annoyance, you moan differently than he expected. Simon assumed, definitely assumed, and NEVER fantasized that you would moan like a fucking pornstar.

No, this… This is something entirely different. And now that it thinks about it, it is more like you. You have a wicked sweetness about you, the kind that makes men want to either break you or protect you.

You have the cheekiness that gets you in trouble—the same one that gets you out of it. Ghost adjusts the ear buds in his ears and draws his eyebrows together.

The man on you (behind you? Under you? Most definitely inside you) is babbling, grunting, and moaning, visceral and guttural. And you... You sound breathy and airy and wet and light. In a delicate voice, you are giving him directions, but you have to repeat yourself a few times before he snaps out of his daze and complies. And when he finally does, oh, you are all praise.

How the fuck did he menage to get into your pants? And why, on God’s green earth, would you let him?

Ghost has witnessed you flirt before: sometimes you were just doing your job, other times you were having fun dancing with recruits in bars, flashing them a little smile with a pretty blush on your face. You were quick to throw them a bait and even quicker to retrieve it. “Don’t push your luck, soldier” you would say with an easy grin. Cheeky little thing.

Simon would scoff at your antics and at the men and women who would fall for your little act. That’s why he is so surprised now, because with you, everything seems to be either an act or a transaction. I’ll give you what you need if you offer me something better first.

That’s what he thought you were doing with Konig when he caught you complimenting his skills and commenting on his strength. Just being smart, just trying to have one more ally.

But the way you were panting, mewling, and pleading told him a different story. You could not be trusted. And now HIS team is in danger because you couldn’t keep your legs shut. Are your legs actually wide open? Are they on his shoulders? No, Ghost is not thinking about your legs. Instead, he is thinking that he wouldn’t need you to give him pointers on how to adjust the rhythm or how to angle himself to hit your sweet spot. With one hand on your mouth, he’d know exactly what to do to you. You wouldn’t need to say please and thank you; you wouldn’t need to be so polite.

Simon is startled when you let out a sudden giggle, immediately followed by a whimper. You are confusing, half crying and half elated, half begging to stop and half begging to continue. It’s intimate—you sound so defenseless, so vulnerable. You are definitely not to be trusted.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, a little escapade with a fellow soldier is not enough to get you to fuck off somewhere else—somewhere far, far away from him. If that were to be enough, the base would be empty by now. He just has to be a little more patient and wait until he hears you say something compromising to the mercenary (or any other bastard that you’ll let into your bed, for that matter, a slut like you). Eventually you'll let something slip that will put the safety of the team at risk and thwart your credibility in the process.

Ghost is just going to have to endure more of this bullshit, and THAT is what annoys him the most. Not the fact that while listening to you, he is reminded of that one time when you dislocated your shoulder. He lets his focus drift to your moaning, desperately trying to conjure the memory of the way you turned your big, watery eyes on him, looking like a wounded animal. He can see it now; he can hear it now—the barely audible plea that escaped your lips, “Please, please don’t hurt me," as he was grabbing your arm and trying to fix you. It is only a pang in the pit of his stomach that snaps him out of it; he should not find the idea of you getting hurt so damn erotic.

You little fucking nuisance.

#konig #konig cod #call of duty smut #drabbles #angst #smut #mdni #spilled thoughts #my wrtitng #simon ghost riley #fanfic #Simon's feelings series #my writing #konig x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #joe leviari

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oharabunny · 9 months

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imagine being miguel's live-in doll

Description: You're kind of a loser and horrible at taking care of yourself so much so that he takes it upon himself to be your one and only caretaker.

Word Count: 2271

Warning: yandere!Miguel, OOC!Miguel, coercion, fem!afab!Reader, pitiful!Reader, Author projecting their problems, not beta read

So let’s say your universe collapsed and you were the only one that Miguel managed to save.

Since you have no universe to return to, he allows you to stay in HQ and provides you with a modded dimensional watch to keep you from disintegrating.

You have your own room and access to the amenities in HQ like the cafeteria and the training center.

Honestly you hit the jackpot because before your universe collapsed you were a loser who barely scraped by for your shitty apartment. You never graduated college, and you job hopped between minimum wage jobs.

The catch was that you are not allowed to leave the premises. Apparently the outside world is too dangerous and overwhelming for someone of your time. For a while, you didn’t seem to have an issue.

First couple months passed, and you loved having no responsibilities and being able to laze around, but you quickly found that to be very boring PLUS you had survivor’s guilt and wanted to be useful for Miguel, who saved you.

So you ask him for a job to do and he seems a little impressed. You are just an ordinary human so he gives you the job as his assistant that doesn't handle sensitive and complicated information.

He may have regretted a little for assigning you a job because now he sees you as a clumsy oaf. It’s not like you couldn’t do your job properly, but you always somehow trip, fall, scrape, and bump into everything. Not a single day were you not mildly injured.

What sealed the deal one day was when an anomaly broke out in HQ and you were caught in the crossfire.

Basically, you are never going to have freedom ever again.

You are rushed to med bay and diagnostics concluded that your injuries are not life threatening, but for some reason he never left your side. Was it pity? It couldn’t be, because pity wouldn’t make him stay while you healed.

He basically wouldn’t let you discharge until every single cut on you was healed and sealed.

When you are discharged, he tells you that you’re no longer sufficient for the job and will be promptly relocated to a safehouse aka his apartment.

You almost fought him on the spot because you enjoyed your job and being able to socialize with the other Spider people. (Which you didn’t know had him seething)

Also, you would be a horrible roommate.

He didn’t give you much choice because it was either his apartment or be homeless.

You couldn’t risk being homeless in a futuristic society with nothing but the clothes on your back.

He personally escorts you to his apartment and to no one’s surprise it was luxurious and spacious. However, it was plain and boring like his taste.

You have free range in his apartment since there was nothing particularly important stashed there. All of it would be at HQ anyway. He practically lives there.

While he did give you a salary when you had your job, but not enough to sustain yourself forever since he fired you. So, he lets you use his credit card to order groceries and whatever you want within reason. And yes he will be monitoring every purchase.

And of course, he also tells you you’re not allowed to leave the apartment. For any reason. Unless you have his explicit permission.

And if you ever do try to leave, the door has a very loud alarm when opened and he is immediately alerted. Even if you manage to get three steps out of the apartment building, he’ll haul your ass back.

Or if you actually do make it into the streets, he has your location pinged in real time from your dimensional watch that he also made completely locked to your wrist (to your dismay cuz it’s so ugly and clashes with your outfits).

Man, you just wanted to go for a walk.

But he’ll just tell you to sit on the balcony that is completely sealed all around only allowing light in so don’t even bother trying to jump.

Anyways.

Since he won’t be coming by often, you can basically redecorate and redesign it to suit your preferences. If anything, he encourages it.

It was fun for a while, but having no structure in life caused you to spiral. As a certified loser with executive dysfunction, you ordered take out and instant food everyday, left trash to build up over time without taking it out, slept and woke up at random hours of the day, and showered once a week.

He definitely knows you are spiraling. He hid many many cameras all over his apartment before taking you here.

He comes by unannounced one day while you are sprawled on the couch, sleeping, with the TV running.

Yeah he cleans everything and takes out all your trash. He wakes you up. You’re startled. And he just tells you that you need to shower.

Man how embarrassing is that. You stank like butt.

You apologized profusely, but he doesn’t seem to care. He wasn’t mad but he definitely pitied you.

You go to the bathroom right away to take a shower and he follows you.

You’re like wtf get out.

He then exposes the fact he knows you’re a clumsy idiot who definitely slipped and hit your head multiple times before.

Still, you think he doesn’t need to watch you shower right? RIGHT???

Wrong, he is going to personally wash you head to toe.

Yeah you are definitely fighting his ass off because you two are not that close and also you’re not handicapped! But he keeps treating you like one.

You kept struggling and kicking him like a baby which did annoy the shit out of him so he bit you so his venom can paralyze you.

He strips you bare and tests the water temperature before setting you down on the shower bench. He is very thorough with you. He scrubbed every spot and yes even your private parts which made you think he was trying to cop a feel.

Oh boy when he starts to wash your hair, you literally melted. Why is this man giving you a full scalp massage????

He even dries you off, lotions your body, and gives you a full skincare routine. WHY DOES HE KNOW YOUR SKINCARE ROUTINE???

Yeah and he also dries your hair off and comb it too. He would style it if he wasn’t too tired that day.

Bruh, he even cuts and buffs your nails and toenails. Applying creams and massages them.

The paralysis seems to wear off around your head and neck area so you’re able to eat and drink. He cooks your favorite dish but he has you drink water as your beverage because you kept having soda so he thinks you should be barred from beverages that weren't water.

And since your body is still paralyzed, he hand feeds you. And for some reason when it comes to helping you drink some water, he spits it into your mouth like a mama bird. And if you weren’t going to open your mouth, he would kiss you.

Now you’re wondering why he’s even here. Why was he doing all of this?

The only answer he tells you is that you’re pathetic and you need someone to take care of you. He took a week off just for you.

You argued with him that he doesn’t need to do all that but he insisted and said you can work through it together.

You think he was going to help you manage your executive dysfunction but nah he was going to do all the housework himself for the whole week and hang out with you.

Well he does try to give you a schedule for when you wake up, what to eat (he literally made you precooked food all labeled and everything), when to work out (he bought you workout gear), and what else you can do in between until when you have to sleep.

He says he’ll come by more often to check up on you so you don’t spiral again. (Which still includes him doing all the housework and washing you)

He went from coming by once a week to every other day, but he usually visits at night. You wondered how he wasn’t drowning in work right now like he usually does.

And every time he visits, he’s taking care of everything you forget to do like when you left dirty dishes in the sink to clean for later.

He makes you take showers with him and it always involves him washing you first before he washes himself. He’ll let you help wash his back though.

He even started making you sleep in the same bed as him and it was hell because he would snore and cough like a dying engine. He keeps you trapped in his arms and legs, and you being a smol bean makes it impossible for you to escape.

He’ll literally start dressing you up, brushing and styling your hair, and doing your makeup every morning even if you want to do it yourself. But it’s interesting to see what he finds attractive on you.

At one point he decides that it was time y’all should get married and have a baby since he literally takes care of you like a baby anyway.

You’re reluctant because you still wanted to figure out what you wanted in life, but because he’s not someone who wastes time in getting what he wants, he’ll just tell you that you can figure it out after you give him your hand in marriage and babies.

You can’t figure out if you hate him or you like him because he does a lot of things without your consent and doesn’t allow you to make your own choices in almost anything, but you also appreciate the sheer amount of effort he makes JUST to take care of you on top of being Spiderman. Plus he’s hot as hell.

In terms of marriage, he doesn’t care for weddings and wants to keep it lowkey. It may sadden you if you love weddings, but it’s not like you have any friends and loved ones anyway. He just wants to have a domestic life with you right away and is not a huge shower.

He’ll make it up to you with the best honeymoon you can ask for. <3

And honestly, especially now that you two are married, he’s going to be a lot more physically affectionate with you and expects you to be the same. Especially whenever he comes home after work, he’s dying for you to pepper kisses and hug him.

The idea of giving birth scares the shit out of you especially when you hear stories of men finding their wives disgusting or how they aren’t there for you in the process or god forbid the husband stitch.

He doesn’t do any of that. He literally worships your body and tbh he’ll be even more proactive in making your life easier that you don’t even lift a finger.

He’ll be on paternity leave so that means he’s gonna stay in the apartment 24/7.

Also, he seems the type to have multiple kids. So, uh, prepare yourself.

And honestly, his controlling and overprotective tendencies are dialed up to the nines after you give birth.

He will watch your every move like a hawk. He’ll hand feed you in every meal. Most of the time he just carries you instead of letting you walk to where you want to go. He blows your nose if it’s stuffy. Massage you when you’re sore. Always being the one to remember when you need to take your medications. Like, literally everything.

And at first when your kids are still babies, he’s extremely protective of them in the same way he is with you. Like taking care of all their bathing and feeding. But as they grow older he definitely loosens his protective hold a little and teaches them skills that helps them learn to be independent.

He even takes them to school, but he usually insists that you stay home until you fight him that you have the right to see your kids at school too.

He still literally does everything in the house and doesn’t let you lift a finger because he partially doesn’t trust you not to hurt yourself.

Which makes your own children think you’re sickly and weak. Because sometimes Miguel would have the kids help you when he’s unable to like delivering your breakfast to your room or doing your dishes.

Ironically, your own children have more freedom and independence than you do.

If he ever does let you go outside, he would be gripping your hand the entire time he doesn’t care if you’re sweating. Or if he has to let go, then his hand has to be somewhere on your body. If not, he will just leash you like a toddler.

Now, I haven’t mentioned how you guys bond, and to briefly sum it up: he is interested in getting to know you such as your personality quirks, hobbies, favorite food, favorite color, etc etc. He does take into consideration what you like especially in terms of aesthetics (you have better taste than him). But if you do anything that could lead you into independence or potential to hurt yourself, he immediately shuts it down.

Honestly, you don’t really get why he does it and how he’s not tired of you, but he enjoys that you’re his doll to take care of. And you can sure as hell bet he's taking care of you until your deathbed. (Imagine him still taking care of all of your needs when he's too old and wrinkly too and ngl that's romantic ❤

A/N: Okay I got a little tired of trying to compress my ideas while trying to describe how exactly crazy this yandere caretaker Miguel would be (even though he would 100% not act like this at all especially if you’re incredibly dysfunctional and unable to take care of yourself with ADHD like me). I rewrote like 4 times to not overwhelm you guys in detail. Even though at the same time, there were areas of detail I didn’t know how to get into. I also at some point lost all my writing and started over again. (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) Sorry if this wasn’t really well written it’s like 6 am right now. I kind of wanna rewrite it when my brain is more organized but I just wanna shoot my idea out there first.

Idk I might delete this later.

I wanted to like credit my inspos to @jessamine-rose for their fic and the manga “My Childhood Friend is Overprotective” by Kumanami Sae (you should check it out it’s so cuteeee)

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ikroah · 5 months

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A girl can get somewhere in spite of stringy hair or even just a bit bowed at the knees if she can show a faultless…personality! —“Personality,” Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers (1946)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #26 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding V

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

ohhhhh my god why did i make this script so long my hand hurts this took forever aaaaagh

Welcome to the Lucky 38! This is a script that has remained basically the same for a long time but went through COUNTLESS extremely small rewrites over the course of production just to really nail Mr. House's dialogue. He's a long-winded guy, this whole issue is basically just him doing monologues, and I wanted to make sure it was all interesting and non-repetitive. I think I took out at least three uses of "merely" from the first draft.

One of the biggest production decisions of this issue was whether or not to cut the scene with Agnes and Cass and Victor, which immediately follows the end of the previous issue. The reason to include it was because it very necessarily established the change in location from the Vegas Strip to the Lucky 38 penthouse, which would have been jarring otherwise; the reason to exclude it was that it the issue was already extremely long and I thought opening right on Mr. House would have been more impactful. Ultimately, I did keep it, which was a good decision, but only because of the literally issue-saving idea to convey it as closed-circuit television footage instead of actual panels. Every single attempt at overlaying them with the lead-in to Mr. House was way too busy, but that idea really tied the page together like a nice rug.

And lastly, the framing device of the tarantula and the tarantula hawk was actually an extremely late addition to the comic. I had already finished the first three pages when I thought of it. My problem was that Mr. House's constant monologuing and Agnes' sad expressions got pretty repetitive. I needed something to break the action up while adding thematic heft and artistic variety. I've become a real enthusiast for wasps and tarantulas over the last couple months, so this one really was just a stroke of luck. It took only minimal revisions to make room for the framing device, with the most dramatic change being the complete replacement of the last page (which was originally just a splash page of the Lucky 38 in Vegas; bookending the first and last pages is so much better). So you see, the only reason for weaving a scene into this issue of a skittish desert-wanderer getting paralyzed and dragged toward a certain demise by a predator almost perfectly evolved to destroy it was just that I like bugs a lot. That's the only reason, yep.

Original Pencils:

Due to all of the photo-collage in the final version of the comic, there's a lot of panels and details that I (thankfully!) didn't have to draw myself. Sorry that the pencil isn't blue on the last three pages, I've been on the move for the holidays so they got scanned in grayscale by accident.

I did experiment with drawing the tarantula framing device myself, but ultimately went with the photo-collage method because the artistic juxtaposition actually made it much more readable when interspersed with the proceedings in the Lucky 38.

Transcript:

EXT. DESERT OUTSIDE OF NEW VEGAS. The city glitters in the distance, nestled between the shadows of mountains, with the spire of the LUCKY 38 towering above all else.

In the wilderness, a TARANTULA emerges from its burrow.

EXT. THE NEW VEGAS STRIP. On closed-circuit television monitors, a SECURITRON ROBOT approaches AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, saying

VICTOR: Well howdy, partner! Fancy meetin' again here in Vegas!

CASS: What the fuck?

AGNES: Victor?

Unlike the usual police units, VICTOR's robotic "face" is that of a cowboy.

VICTOR: And heck, ya clean up nice! Sure lookin' a lot better now than when I rustled ya outta the bone orchard back in Goodsprings*--

CAP: *As was explained to Agnes way back in IKROAH #2. --Lou

VICTOR: --so how's about ol' Vic skips the rigamarole, huh? 'Fore all my yappin' makes ya want to go back, heh-heh-heh! I'm the welcome wagon, see. I'm to come and collect ya.

CASS: Agnes--

VICTOR: Boss wants t'see you, is what I'm sayin'.

AGNES: Boss?

VICTOR: Only of all of Vegas, friend!

CASS: Agnes.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA crawls beneath the starlight.

VICTOR: So why don't we mosey on over to the Lucky 38? And your good pal can come along, too!

CASS: I need to know what the fuck is going on, right now.

AGNES: I...I don't know.

VICTOR: And y'know, boss ain't ever let a soul inside before, least for not as long as I've been rollin' around on my spurs, so this ain't just an everyday social call, mind...

On the closed-circuit television monitors, VICTOR escorts AGNES and CASS to the entryway of the LUCKY 38.

VICTOR: ...but heck, I reckon ya'll oughta get along like franks on a fire! So come on! Lift's in the lobby here, and up to the top floor--and we can get the formalities out of the way before ya'll get [cut off]

INT. THE LUCKY 38 PENTHOUSE.

AGNES stands awestruck, looking upward, bathed in electronic green light. With horror, she ekes out a single question.

AGNES: ...what are you?

???: A "Hello" would have been preferable, but it'll take more than a crude faux pas to tarnish this moment. Who I am, Agnes--

What AGNES is looking at is a gigantic SUPERCOMPUTER and terminal, flanked by closed-circuit television monitors and guarded on both sides by SECURITRON police units. On the supercomputer's massive screen is the green-lit image of a face. The face

MR. HOUSE: --is ROBERT EDWIN HOUSE. The President, CEO, and sole proprietor of New Vegas--and more to the point, the intended recipient of a long delayed package.

AGNES: Oh, you...you mean the platinum chip?

MR. HOUSE: Correct. It's a...very precious artifact of the old world.

MR. HOUSE: My world, once.

In the back of the room, beyond AGNES, is an oil painting of MR. HOUSE, standing outside in front of what must have been a very large robot.

MR. HOUSE: In that world, I was the founder of RobCo Industries--a titan of innovation. We created a litany of robotic solutions for diverse markets, such as the Securitrons that you see here, and even a line of consumer-grade devices like the wrist-mounted Pip-Boy. But the platinum chip was, more than any other, my design. It was my vision.

MR. HOUSE: But it never left the factory in which it was originally made. Before it could even cool off from its assembly...we had the Great War. An international, thermonuclear bombardment of unimaginable power that annihilated the world in all of two hours.

MR. HOUSE: But not the entire world. Not Vegas. Not my Paradise. From my fortress of the Lucky 38, I saw to that. But as for the rest of the world, and my platinum chip--it took generations.

MR. HOUSE: First for the scarce remnants of humanity to crawl out from under their rocks, and for the world to at least resemble a functioning society again in which to do trade. And then for the work itself--of countless scavengers, treasure-seekers, and the like, all contracted to comb over the wreckage of Sunnyvale. It cost millions of caps, and later, New California dollars. And a not insignificant piece of my pre-war fortune as well. I, quite literally, moved mountains.

MR. HOUSE: I do not believe in providence, Agnes, but I do believe in destiny. How else to explain it? It was pristine when it was found. Neither the bombs nor the passage of time had so much as scuffed its sheen. But still...its value far transcended the mere market price of pure platinum.

MR. HOUSE: Amusingly, despite the discovery, I was still only as close to acquiring the chip as I had been originally in 2077. A final ordeal remained for me: how to ensure the safety of the platinum chip en route to its destination, from Sunnyvale to Vegas, without broadcasting its preciousness to thieves, armies, and raiders--or worse, to heavily armed fetishists for pre-war technology like the Brotherhood of Steel?

MR. HOUSE: Misdirection. Through a network of anonymous liaisons, I contracted the Mojave Express for a batch of deliveries, all superficially similar knick-knacks, to various intermediaries of myself. All but one of the orders were totally worthless decoys. But your identity as the carrier of the one genuine item was somehow compromised, leading to you getting attacked, and to the second disappearance of the chip.

MR. HOUSE: But look around you. Look where you are. You've made it, haven't you?

AGNES, still staring up at the visage of MR. HOUSE on-screen, doesn't respond. She frowns, nervous. The SECURITRONS guarding MR. HOUSE observe her stoically.

MR. HOUSE: Let me clarify: I had nothing to do with Benny's ambush. Heavens no! It goes completely against my interests. It would have been a perfectly quotidian day's work for you if not for his, and I stress, unexpected involvement. The platinum chip...belies its significance. For Benny to have not only discovered its delivery route but possibly enough of that significance to motivate such an act, this constituted a very troubling breach of my security. And I had been looking into it...but in a way, the issue seems to have resolved itself. Hm?

MR. HOUSE: A wild card. Now removed from the deck.

AGNES' gaze sinks to the floor.

MEANWHILE, a small shadow blots out the starlight in the desert outside of Vegas. It flies over the exploring TARANTULA.

AGNES looks back up at MR. HOUSE.

AGNES: I killed him.

HOUSE: So you did. I only wish that we could have spoken before you went rogue on my former protégé: if this story breaks, I can grant you amnesty, but not without controversy. And your infamy as an assassin could make our further arrangements quite difficult.

AGNES: Um...I didn't think there would be more to it than delivering the--

MR. HOUSE: Oh! Of course, of course! My apologies. Two hundred years of anticipation and yet I'm still getting ahead of myself. Well--would you mind? I've been waiting a long time for my mail.

The SECURITRON closest to AGNES wheels forward with its claw outstretched. AGNES reaches her fingers into a pocket beneath the belt of her dress to produce it: the PLATINUM CHIP. She holds it in her hand for a brief moment.

MEANWHILE, the shadow descends; the TARANTULA HAWK engages the TARANTULA.

AGNES relinquishes the PLATINUM CHIP to the SECURITRON.

MR. HOUSE: Thank you--it's a relief to pay for this chip for the final time.

The SECURITRON inserts the PLATINUM CHIP into a slot in MR. HOUSE'S supercomputer, feeding it into the drive with a CLIK.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA is fighting the TARANTULA HAWK.

From behind AGNES, another SECURITRON presents her with a stack of NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC DOLLARS, which she gingerly takes in her hand and looks over.

MR. HOUSE: And I trust that you're satisfied with the agreed-upon compensation from the delivery contract, yes?

AGNES: Yeah, it's...it's fine...I'll be going now. Thanks.

MR. HOUSE: Oh? But you've only just arrived. I insist that you make yourself at home.

SFX: KZZSZZZTTT

The faces on the screens of the SECURITRONS in MR. HOUSE'S penthouse suddenly change from policemen to soldiers. AGNES recoils and tries to step away.

AGNES: H-hey, uh--

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK pierces the underbelly of the TARANTULA with its stinger.

SECURITRONS surround AGNES.

MR. HOUSE: You are the first guest ever through the doors of the Lucky 38, you know. Nobody has so much as checked a coat inside since the war, so this meeting confers you a significant level of privilege...and inevitable celebrity. The people of Vegas have always gossiped, after all. Many have even clawed at the door desperately with dreams of being where you now stand. Surely you can comprehend how this compulsion to leave after such a deliberate and remarkable invitation risks considerable insult--to both myself and my citizenry? And very deliberate this invitation was. Don't you realize: if handing off my package was all for which you were needed, why wouldn't I have just had Victor relieve you of the chip outside? No, no, you see, as necessary as its acquisition was, the chip is ultimately just a key, for unlocking a new frontier...of possibilities.

MR. HOUSE: Possibilities for prosperity, peace, and technological advancement that haven't been seen in two hundred years. Possibilities greater than anything the New California Republic or Caesar's Legion could dream of, let alone achieve, by playing pretend in the clothes of their forebearers and convincing everyone else that it's statecraft. Possibilities--which if they key is turned by human hands--become certainties.

AGNES (a whisper): Are you not human?

MR. HOUSE: Don't let the video screens and computer terminals fool you: I am a living human. No less so than you. I just live with a particular set of, well...handicaps.

AGNES: You said you'd waited hundreds of years to--

MR. HOUSE: One could argue that the world has been waiting hundreds of years for this moment. Waiting for me. For the chip. For the long-dormant doors of the Lucky 38 to finally open, to a single and specially ordained individual: you, Agnes. And there are tremendous things waiting for us, waiting for us to accomplish them, together. I certainly couldn't do them with Benny. What do you say?

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA has become completely paralyzed by the TARANTULA HAWK'S venom. The TARANTULA HAWK seizes its prey.

AGNES: ...no.

MR. HOUSE: I'm sorry--"No?"

AGNES: Yes--I mean, no. No! I don't want to help you! I...

Tears well in AGNES' eye.

AGNES: ...I just want to go back home.

MR. HOUSE: ...I see. Hmm.

MR. HOUSE: How do I put this in a way you'll understand?

MR. HOUSE: The die is cast.

AGNES, crying, looks up at MR. HOUSE again. Fear bulges on her face.

MR. HOUSE: Throughout the long delivery of this chip, several precise plans and fortuitous coincidences have aligned in just such a way as to make you, you specifically at this exact juncture, an irreplaceable asset in the ongoing endeavor of this wounded world's recovery from otherwise hopeless ruin.

MR. HOUSE: Your cooperation going forward is not merely crucial to this endeavor's success, but it's utterly non-negotiable. Should you entertain the moral issue of what's at stake, it's obligatory, even. It's why your refusal comes as such a...genuine surprise. Can't you see?

MR. HOUSE: I'm not a fascist, Agnes--I would never force you. But given the circumstances, I'm entitled, wouldn't you agree, to at least a brief demonstration of my vision? The vision that the platinum chip promises? Victor has surely seen your companion to the presidential suite by now--my other Securitrons can escort you to the basement, where I'm sure you can make a...properly informed decision.

The SECURITRONS close in on AGNES, who screams in protest.

AGNES: No! I said no! I already delivered your chip, I--I killed Benny! I-- I-- ...what do you want with me!?

MR. HOUSE: Haven't you been listening? I want what's best for you--for us. I know it's a lot, but bear with me for one moment longer, and I can assure you--that this is the beginning of something very incredible.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK has dragged the paralyzed TARANTULA back to the entrance of its own burrow.

The TARANTULA HAWK shoves its helpless prey into the hole, and then crawls in after it.

The TARANTULA is not seen again.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #rose of sharon cassidy #victor #mr. house #agnes sands #ikroah archive #volume 02 #26

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robfinancialtip · 5 months

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youtube

🐾 Welcome back, everyone! Join Robert on his 60-day journey with the incredible Halo Collar 3 in this must-watch review. As a proud dog owner, Robert shares how this futuristic Halo Collar has become a game-changer for the safety and training of his furry friend, Jameson.

🌐 The virtual fence feature is a protective bubble, ensuring Jameson's safety during outdoor adventures. Robert emphasizes the user-friendly Halo app, likening it to having a personal dog trainer in your pocket.

🎮 The Halo Collar 3 is more than just a collar—it's an essential tool for any dog owner who prioritizes their pet's safety and training. Robert showcases how the precision GPS, active GPS antenna, and innovative technology have elevated their adventures, allowing Jameson to roam freely with remarkable precision.

🛣️ Living near a busy road, Robert highlights how the collar's virtual fence has prevented Jameson from wandering into potentially dangerous areas. The upgraded GPS provides peace of mind, allowing Robert to easily locate Jameson even in remote areas.

🔋 The collar's durability, sleek design, and long-lasting battery life impress Robert. He emphasizes the simplicity of charging the collar overnight, ensuring it's ready for another day of exciting activities.

📈 The activity charts feature adds an extra layer of care, helping Robert monitor Jameson's daily activity levels and ensure he gets the exercise he needs. The collar goes beyond being a pet gadget, fostering a stronger connection between owner and pet.

📡 Robert dives into the technical aspects, explaining the reliance on over 150 satellites for accurate location tracking. The continuous location updates every second provide real-time information, reinforcing the importance of the collar in their daily lives.

🌈 With various colors available, including new orchid and sunburst options, the Halo Collar 3 is technologically advanced and customizable to match your pup's personality.

💡 In summary, Robert expresses his satisfaction with the reasonably priced Halo Collar 3, highlighting its sophisticated features, ease of use, and the endorsement of training routines by the renowned Cesar Millan. This collar has proven to be a blessing, providing for Jameson's well-being and security in ways that exceed expectations. Don't miss out on this revolutionary pet tech—watch the video to see it in action! 🐶✨

#Youtube

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anoonimthepoorchad · 2 months

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There are many ways Ukrainians monitor the air raids led by russia in our country. There are social media channels, updating the info in real time as soon as they learn the changes in courses and other info from their closed sources or locals reporting the explosion sounds. The radio and the tv also announces which regions (oblasts) are in active danger. There are other official sources, among which are official air raid apps from the government, which not only announce the danger with loud noises, waking you up from the deepest of sleep, but also notify when the missiles, drones, or other weaponry is moving in the direction of your location, your town or city. Usually the loud sound it produces is the mimicry of the sirens, or the whooping alarm bell to indicate urgent danger.

This is very useful when you're alone or asleep, as these apps are usually quite loud. But when you're among other people, hiding in a shelter from the air raid, the moment new info about urgent danger is released, there's a wave of alarm bells from almost each phone in sight. I turned mine off some time ago because I can't stand noises from my phone and am a light sleeper. But lately we've been going to the subway to stay the night when an air raid is announced, and I sleepily "monitor" the situation based on these waves of notifications

#ukraine #war in ukraine #stand with ukraine #russia #russia is a terrorist state #important #proud to be ukrainian #fuck russia #russian war crimes #air raid #current events #civilian life during war

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nasa · 2 years

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Comin’ in Hot: Seven Things to Know About our New Heat Shield

What goes up, must come down, and from space, without burning up in an atmosphere. That’s why we’re pumped for the Low-Earth Orbit Flight Test of an Inflatable Decelerator, or LOFTID. Launching on Nov. 1, 2022, with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) Joint Polar Orbiting Satellite System-2 (JPSS-2) mission, this technology demonstration marks the next step in advancing an innovative heat shield design that could one day be used to land heavy payloads – including humans – on Mars!

Here are seven things to know about this innovative re-entry system:

1. LOFTID is the first-ever in-orbit test of this technology.

Inflatable heat shields, called Hypersonic Inflatable Aerodynamic Decelerators (HIADs), have been in the works for more than a decade. In 2012, the third of the Inflatable Re-entry Vehicle Experiments (IRVE) launched on a suborbital sounding rocket from the Wallops Flight Facility, demonstrating a 3-meter (10-foot) diameter inflatable heat shield.

But the LOFTID re-entry vehicle, at 19.7 feet (6 meters) in diameter, will be the largest blunt body aeroshell to ever go through atmospheric entry. Designed to withstand temperatures as high as 2900°F (1600°C), this first-ever in-orbit test of this technology will prove if it can successfully slow down large payloads – such as crewed spacecraft, robotic explorers, and rocket components – enabling them to survive the heat of re-entry at planetary destinations with an atmosphere.

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2. You can find out how this tech works in real-time.

LOFTID is unique in that all operations will happen within a few hours of launch. After the JPSS-2 satellite safely reaches orbit, the LOFTID vehicle will separate from the upper stage of the Atlas V rocket and begin re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere. If all goes as planned, the technology will help the vehicle decelerate from hypersonic (more than 25 times faster than the speed of sound) down to subsonic flight, less than 609 miles per hour for a safe splash down and recovery from the Pacific Ocean.

While in flight, engineers at NASA’s Langley Research Center will receive location data every 20 seconds and onboard sensors and cameras will record more comprehensive data about the technology’s performance. You can get a behind-the-scenes look at Langley’s Flight Mission Support Center where the LOFTID project team will be monitoring the flight test at NASA.gov/live following the launch.

3. A lemon-sized capsule ejected into the Pacific Ocean will hold key flight data.

The LOFTID re-entry vehicle will record both sensor and camera data during its flight. The data will include the temperatures and pressures experienced by the heat shield and will illustrate how well the technology performed during the demonstration.

Although the goal is to retrieve the LOFTID re-entry vehicle after it splashes down in the Pacific Ocean, the team wanted a back-up option just in case they can’t recover it. Enter the tiny yellow package called an ejectable data module (EDM) which will also record flight data. The EDM will be released from the spacecraft at an altitude of about 50,000 feet. It will free fall into the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Hawaii and should land within 10 miles of the spacecraft’s splash down location. A recovery team, that has practiced hide-and-seek of the EDM on land and sea, will use GPS to search an approximately 900-mile area of the Pacific Ocean to find their “lemon.”

4. This heat shield packs a punch.

Although NASA has historically relied on rigid aeroshells, parachutes, and retro-propulsion (rockets) to decelerate people, vehicles, and hardware during entry, descent, and landing operations, a benefit of inflatable heat shields is that they take up less space in a rocket, allowing more room for other hardware or payloads. LOFTID’s aeroshell has been folded and tightly packed down to 4 by 1.5 feet for launch and stacked in the United Launch Alliance (ULA) Atlas V rocket payload fairing.

5. LOFTID is dedicated in honor of one of its innovators.

LOFTID was developed as a partnership with ULA and is dedicated to the memory of Bernard Kutter, ULA manager of advanced programs, who passed away in August 2020. Kutter was instrumental in advancing the inflatable heat shield design and developing the plan to test the system on an Atlas V rocket. He was an advocate for both space technology and expanding access to space. Kutter’s NASA and ULA counterparts agree that LOFTID is unlikely to have made it to space without his vision and passion.

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6. LOFTID is made of tough stuff.

Synthetic fibers make up the inflatable structure, braided into tubes that are, by weight, 10 times stronger than steel. The tubes are coiled so that they form the shape of a blunt cone when inflated. The thermal protection system that covers the inflatable structure can survive searing entry temperatures up to 2,900 degrees Fahrenheit. Researchers used the same heat-shielding materials to create a fire shelter prototype for firefighters battling forest fires.

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7. You can make your own LOFTID Halloween costume!

Still looking for an out-of-this world Halloween costume? With a few commonly found materials, like orange pool noodles and duct tape, you can create your own LOFTID costume. However, we make no promises of protecting or slowing you down from becoming the life of the party.

Follow @NASA_Technology for the latest updates on LOFTID. Don’t miss our live coverage leading up to launch from the Vandenberg Space Force Base in California. The NASA Edge JPSS-2 Tower Rollback Show airs live on NASA TV and YouTube on Tuesday, Nov. 1 at 12 a.m. EDT, and NASA TV live launch coverage will begin at 4:45 a.m. EDT.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#LOFTID #NOAA #NASA #spaceblr #space technology #tech #Youtube #technology

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tmntxthings · 11 months

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一∑ Not Enough・゜・。

author’s note: i feel pretty meh about this but we posting anywayssss c: thank joji for this ! here’s to heartbreak and betrayal~~~

warnings: cursing, hurt + no comfort, angst to the max, unedited

word association: first love, relationships, broken trust, loneliness, betrayal, self-deprecation, doubt, emotional breakdowns

song inspired: “ Ew by Joji ”

—————————————————————————

First love.

Not a crush. Not a like. Those don’t come close. Those can’t compare. To the all-encompassing feeling that is love. Especially the first.

If Donatello had been aware of what would happen. Of the impact that it would leave. In this moment, he would say it is not worth it.

You…

His teeth bared at just the thought. He couldn’t think of you for one moment without a searing pain lancing through his entire being. Making his teeth ache and he found he was curling into himself. He straightened once he realized what he was doing.

Sitting wasn’t helping. He stood. Maybe going back to pacing would help. Help him to finally think. His eyes were to the floor. Watching his feet march a couple of paces here. Only to stop when he saw debris on the floor and to turn back the way he came.

Pacing.

He tried once more.

You… you’re.. his everything. His first real crush. His first kiss. His first love.

Of course the beginning with you had been a cliche, he had saved you. But that was one of the only ways he came into contact with humans. Maybe that’s what you had fallen in love with, a ‘hero.’ He was anything but that. He hardly felt up to par with his brothers. They were naturals. Wielding their mystic powers with ease while it was still a struggle for Donnie. But maybe that one heroic moment with him had been the reason why you fell so hard and so fast for him.

You had taught him a lot. He was never a vocal person. Not when it came to his emotions. You taught him to communicate better, better than Mikey had been able to. So much so that he had been able to confess a deep emotion like love to you. And you’d accepted him. Loved him back. For a time everything was great. You were around all the time. Nothing else seemed to really matter to Donnie. You were his world and he just circled around it. You continued to be his first for a lot of things. Time continued to pass by and his feelings for you never faded. They only grew stronger and that bond between the two of you would last forever.

Except.

It didn’t.

Unbeknownst to Donnie, your feelings had faded.

His pacing stopped. His eyes drilling holes into the ground before he forced his head to turn to his monitor. Ignoring the rest of the wreck. His heart started to race, in a sickening way that made him feel dizzy. He was looking at a you. His monitor held you.

And someone else. He felt sick as he forced himself to stare. The adoration pouring from your gaze as you held onto this..this stranger! His stomach rolled as he remembered what came after. What not even he could force himself to look at for a second time.

When you had said you “needed a break.” Donnie had thought it was because of school. That’s how you had made it sound. That you were stressed. You needed time alone. It had never sounded like a break up. In fact a kiss was shared between you two before you had left the lair that day. Reassuring him that everything was fine. That you weren’t leaving him. That you loved him more than anything. That this was just for you, and your health.

Donnie had distracted himself to not text you as much. To not call you as much. He still sought after you on social media though. He checked your location from time to time just to keep him from being restless with worry. It was especially hard when the days apart started to add up.

So when you had told him school was out for the summer…that you were out celebrating with friends.. he couldn’t stop himself. He just had to see you. Even if it was just for a moment. He’d tracked your location to some club. Had gotten on the roof to see that no you weren’t inside the building but on the side. Without even thinking Donnie had moved to the edge, moments from jumping down to make a grand entrance in front of you. Not thinking about the what-ifs of getting caught by other humans. He wanted to surprise you. To see that lovely smile light up your face as you took him in, maybe if he was lucky he’d get a kiss. He’d take anything you would give him.

The only thing that stopped him from jumping down was hearing your voice squeal someone else’s name.

Even then, Donnie hadn’t thought anything of it, just a change of plans, to not drop down but to text you saying ‘I’m here!’ or ‘Look up!’ or ‘Hang back for a minute.’

Then he looked over the edge and saw you pressed against the brick wall of the building he was on top of. Looking into the eyes of another with excitement, with anticipation, with love.

And kissing the stranger. Again. And again. And again. Over. And over. And over again.

He had staggered back. Shaking from head to toe as he tore off into the sky. Running away. Flying straight back home to ruin everything in his path. Mainly his lab. And when he could finally piece together two thoughts that weren’t to destroy shit. He already had the recording set up on his monitor. Paused on that look on your face.

He had fled the scene but as always he recorded everything. He couldn’t press play… he couldn’t. This image alone was painfully enough. In fact he had to turn away. Staggering back to his lone chair. It was one of the few things that survived his wrath.

“Fuck.” He croaked as he slumped over, elbows on his knees as his palms pressed into his eyes. Why was this happening? What had he done? You loved another?? He wasn’t enough??? Why had he thought he ever would be? What he didn’t understand was why you even bothered in the first place if this was to be the outcome.

Why had you taught him all of those things?

To love.

Pointless. It was all unbearably pointless.

Hadn’t he become someone more worthy? Now that he knew how to communicate properly and not shut down? To not crawl into his lab and sulk for weeks without speaking his mind? Why? Why. Why??? Why was he still not enough?

For some reason he had thought that love was unconditional. Undying. But it was a fickle thing. Something he now knew he couldn’t rely on. He would never make the same mistake again.

His eyes started to burn and he pressed the heels of his palms into them harder. He didn’t want this. If this was what he got for loving someone as much as he had loved you, he didn’t want it. It hurt. His breathing quickened, no matter how hard he pressed, tears leaked out, wetting his hands as he held back sobs. No. No. No.

And before he knew it the mantra couldn’t overpower his pathetic whimpers. Then it grew louder, more convulsive as the sobs turned to howls. This was worse than any physical pain. How would he be able to fix this. Was there a cure? He didn’t want to feel anything anymore.

After crying until he couldn’t anymore, slowly he straightened in his seat. His tear ducts ached, the stains on his face burned, but it didn’t matter. He had cried so much, for so long, he was sure he would never do it again. Donnie stood, taking in the entirety of his lab. He’d have to clean up first. Then he could work on something. Anything. That would help. It always did. His wrist-tech vibrated, along with his monitor changing screens to show an incoming call from you.

He swiped it away.

He knew what a ‘break’ meant now. He didn’t need to hear you. He didn’t need your confirmation nor consolation. He didn’t need closure. He had lived without you before. He surely could do it again.

He fought against the pain that rushed forward. No he wouldn’t feel anything. He didn’t need you. It was all a sham. Another weakness that he couldn’t afford. He’d forget about this. About you. And he was sure one day he could convince himself this was all some stupid fever dream that he had made up to pass the time.

It would be like you never even existed.

Though it would never conceal the fact that he felt deficient. That he was lacking. That he was someone inadequate to love.

Deep down in the marrow of his bones he would always feel like he was never enough.

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commsroom · 4 months

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hera has met maybe a dozen people in her entire life, most of them have intended to harm her in some way, and she's always lived in high stress, isolated environments, where she's had no choice but to live and work alongside them, in spite of that. i like to joke about her getting into internet fights, and she would! she's petty, vindictive, takes things very personally, digs her heels in, and really doesn't like to admit when she's wrong. but i think there's also a genuine concern that she doesn't know how to emotionally handle being surrounded by so many people with hurtful (or even just dissenting) opinions, all the time. she's not really used to interactions that are unpleasant but ultimately not a threat to her, and i think it's going to take her a while to adjust to a social environment where she isn't required to respond to anyone, and she can ignore them. or even just leave.

... though, i think she might develop the opposite problem for a while: when she does realize she can just leave, it'll be difficult to convince her to tolerate any discomfort at all. i think it's important that hera makes friends on earth, not least because she's going to have a lot of insecurity about her current friends having lives and histories on earth when she doesn't, and things going on that she's not a part of, but it's not going to come easily. she's got a lot of (understandable) trust issues, and when is she supposed to tell someone she's an AI? does she need to? is that something that will change how people interact with her? if she doesn't tell them, will she worry they would treat her differently if they knew? it's not a common thing in the world of wolf 359, and i'm sure people have their own biases; the question of "disclosure" is socially and emotionally complicated.

and then, of course, there's the issue that she only exists in that digital space. she can't really "log off." she can't meet people physically. i think a lot about the opening of memoria; knowing that hera canonically feels physically "somewhere else" contextualizes a lot of who she is - how she perceives herself, and how she wants to interact with the world. i want hera to be able to have a body post-canon, but even if she can, there will be a period of time where she is bound to one location and watching the others freely leave it. and that's not even getting into the fact she's used to being able to monitor everyone she knows at all times; post-canon hera is making eiffel stay on the phone with her while he goes one block away to the gas station because otherwise she perceives him as being out of range of her scans and starts catastrophizing that he's probably dead. there's no real conclusion to this; i'm just thinking about trauma and how difficult it is to adapt to a "safe" environment where the mechanisms you've been using to survive no longer serve you, and even in many ways leave you feeling like you're still trapped.

#wolf 359 #w359 #hera wolf 359 #i think there's a lot of really interesting and resonant stuff you can extrapolate from hera's likely post-canon situation #as it relates to trauma and disability and the transfeminine experience. all things that make the isolation of #Only Existing in a Digital Space. and not knowing how to 'break into' the world everyone else lives in. particularly real. i think.

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pinguwrites · 9 months

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Black Heart | Chapter One: Evening Cigarettes

Pairing -> Thomas Shelby x fem!poc!reader

Summary -> The year is 1920, and you have no idea how you got here. One moment, you were in your bed, and the next, you were lying in a field of grass, thousands of miles away from home. All you know is that you're in a small town called Birmingham, and you need money. Fortunately, the local gangster is in the market for an accountant, and you're in the market for a job.

Warnings -> swearing, mentions of racism, suicide joke, reader kinda has a dark sense of humor, tommy being a bit of an ass, sorry for the short chapter

REWRITTEN 9/29/23 - CURRENTLY ON HOLD

Word count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: Peaky Blinders characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Series Masterlist

There wasn’t much to be said about Birmingham. It was a small city, located somewhere in England, filled with dirty streets and coal-stained men and nothing of any interest at all. For the past few days, you had been walking around the place in an almost dream-like haze, searching for food scraps and pieces of suitable clothing, wondering why the fuck you were here and how.

It’s all those movies you’ve been watching, your mom’s voice rings in your head. Too much fantasy and not enough reality.

A part of you wondered if you should have listened to her words, if this world you were now a part of was the result of an overactive imagination and a desperate desire to escape reality. Maybe this was some cruel trick the universe decided to play on you, maybe you had passed out and all of this was a sort of long-term coma. Perhaps it was a mass prank and everyone here was just actors — but you thought that to be highly unlikely, given, you know, common sense.

The only other possibility you could come up with was time travel. Even if it was probable, there were so many questions: Why you? Why this time?

No, you’d just stick to the most simple and likely answer: you were fucking insane. Right now, in the real world, you were being locked up in some mental facility, strapped to a bed, and being monitored by doctors and nurses. Your mom was in tears, wondering where she had gone wrong with raising her daughter, and you were oblivious, wandering around in the year 1920, with no way to get back.

You kicked a pebble, watching it roll across the dirt ground. While that was the going theory, you still didn’t know what to do. Your instinct to survive was just as strong as any other day, and you were still plagued with hunger, pain, and fear.

So far, you had no proper shelter, no stable source of food and water (though the nearby well and some restaurant scraps were doing just fine for now), and you had nothing acceptable to wear except a dirty gray dress you found in some dumpster-like area. You had actually cleaned the damn thing yesterday, but it still had this nasty stench like foul body odor, and a couple of ripped holes. It was at least better than the clothes you were wearing beforehand — a white, loose, crop top and some fuzzy shorts, which had garnered nothing but stares of disgust and pity when you walked around in them. I’m naked to them, you realized, and that was when you made the endeavor to search for new clothing; as well as the fact that your modern outfit was doing nothing to protect you from the bitter chill.

Not that this dress was doing any better. You predicted that you would die soon from the weather. Probably in your sleep. While you hadn’t found any shelter, you did find a little corner by the side of an apartment building. That’s where your body would be found, all frozen to death like meat in a fridge. But what else were you supposed to do? It was the best place you had.

You continued walking down the road, kicking that same pebble again. Your toes and fingers were numb and you were sure that you were going to get a cold, though that was the least of your worries.

The sky was a dark gray and it seemed like it was going to rain soon. You looked up from the ground and glanced over the area, a habit you picked up ever since you saw someone getting mugged here. The entire city of Birmingham felt like a small town, with its little businesses and shops along the side of the unpaved road. Occasionally a few people would walk past you. They would either ignore you and mind their own business, or stare at you like you were some exotic specimen. Fucking racist pricks.

You reached into your bag — thank god you had a bag on you when you were transported here — and pulled out your phone. It was dead, but you kept checking it out of habit. Not like you could call anyone even if it was charged, but it would have been nice to spend your last moments watching a good movie or scrolling through old pictures to reminisce about the past.

Everything else in the bag was just hand sanitizer, a mask from COVID days (oh, God, what if I’m carrying COVID and spread it?), lip balm, and a small pocket knife. All things you were glad to have, but not particularly useful. It would have been nice to have a book on survival in the wilderness, or a lighter.

You sighed, your breath coming out in a white smoke in the bitter air. You wanted to crawl into a ball and collapse. You wanted your mom to hold you, or your friends to lighten the mood with silly jokes. Why did this have to happen? Why me?

When you arrived at the apartment you were ready to curl up and sleep, but you noticed a flickering sound, and turned around to see a man, leaning against the wall of the opposite building.

He was handsome, with a gray cap and a dusty black coat on. He seemed to be stopping only for a moment, lighting the cigarette between his fingers before moving on, but he noticed your stare and gave you a cold look.

“You need something?” he asked, in that same, strong British accent you heard everyone around here speak in.

“No.” You shook your head, feeling a little bad for blatantly staring. “My bad.”

The man took a puff of his cigarette. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so, I’ve never seen you before.”

His facial expression didn’t change. It was in that same cold stare. “Do you know who I am?”

“Well, I’ve never seen you before,” you repeated yourself, getting a little irritated. Your day was already going bad — scratch that, your whole week had been a fucking roller coaster, and now you had to deal with an arrogant prick who thought he was shit. “Are you some kind of celebrity?”

“You’re American,” he stated, ignoring your question. “Tell me, Miss . . .?”

“[Y/N],” you said.

“Miss [Y/N]. Tell me what a girl like you is doing in Birmingham?”

“I’m not quite sure,” you responded honestly. “What are you doing here?” you asked, not enjoying his attitude. “What’s your name?”

“You’re a cheeky lass, sweetheart.” He grinned a little, amused, like this was all funny to him. “My name is Thomas Shelby. And this is my town.” He paused, his grin dropping. A horrible feeling sunk in your gut. “I ought to know who lives in my town, eh?”

He took a puff of his cigarette. “Come here, sweetheart.”

You hesitated but walked forward a little, ready to run at a moment’s notice. He had that dumb hairstyle every man here was rocking, but it fit him. It made him look nice.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. But then the man called Thomas Shelby offered you a cigarette and asked, “Are you a whore?”

You stood there, stunned, not accepting his offer. “No.”

He looked you up and down again. “How old are you? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Eighteen.”

He didn’t say anything to that or indicate that he was surprised.

“You have family ‘round here?”

You shook your head, thoughts running wild.

He must be a gangster. Like Al Capone, only British, you thought, feeling nervous. What was he going to do to you? He wouldn’t harm you, would he?

Of course he’s going to harm you. That’s what men like him do.

“Ran away, eh? Nice story.”

“I never said I ran away,” you said, thinking you ought to stop this conversation right now and bolt in the opposite direction out of this town.

“Then what happened?” He walked closer to you. His face was neutral, but you could tell he was suspicious, otherwise he wouldn’t be asking all these questions. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Good. Now, will you leave me alone?” Your voice dropped to a more quiet tone. “Please?”

Mr. Shelby looked like he was thinking. “This isn’t a safe place for young girls like you,” he finally said. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he gestured to the streets, “alone, with no one to protect you.”

“I’m doing just fine” you retorted, but made an effort to sound as polite as you could.

“Fine?” He took a look at your clothing. “Yes, very suitable. I’m sure you enjoy being homeless.”

“I’m not homeless,” you defended, even though you were, indeed, homeless.

Being reminded of your hopeless situation made tears pricked at your eyes, and you felt silly for wanting to cry, especially in front of him, but it was all just so hard. You didn’t feel right getting upset, other people had and were facing worse, but all you could think about was how much you wanted to eat a hot home-cooked meal and a nice bed to sleep in.

“Are you going to cry?” he asked.

“Do you like it when people cry?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then you should leave me alone, because I probably will.”

You averted your eyes, feeling ashamed for admitting that to a random stranger, a stranger who was probably judging you right now, a stranger who was probably a fucking criminal.

Mr. Shelby walked even closer, to the point where you were now just a feet apart. You could see the freckles scattered across his face.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out some paper money, handing it over to you. “You see that building?” He pointed to the one beside you, the one you’d been sleeping behind. “This should be enough to get you a few day’s stay.”

You were stunned, hesitantly taking the pounds and blinking the tears away. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Just doing a decent man’s work, sweetheart.” He looked into your eyes. “Last I remember, the landlady of this building is hiring a maid. Ask her about it, tell her that Thomas Shelby referred you here.”

You agreed, not wanting to say anything that would make him change his mind, but you were still wondering why he changed his mind. Did he like it when girls cried? Did it make him feel like a hero? Was he planning to use you later for something? You didn’t know, and no matter how many times you tried to guess, it was useless, because you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thank you, sir,” you breathed out, feeling a little bad for your snippiness.

He nodded his head at you, lingering for a moment before walking in the opposite direction. You watched him until he was out of sight, a warm feeling in your tummy.

You walked into the apartment, finally inside a building for the first time in a while. You told the landlady, an old Asian woman, that Mr. Shelby had referred you to this place and the job. She took the money and eagerly offered you a room to stay, though you noticed a fearful hint in her eyes.

She got you a warm bath, saying that you must tell Mr. Shelby that she was very happy to take you in — subtlety, of course, and lead you to your new room.

You laid down on the bed, taking in the comfort of the sheets. Very quickly, you fell asleep, drifting off into a slumber after a long day.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #black heart #pinguwrites

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