#⦿ Speak quickly and succinctly. ⦿ Asks

[sgt-tombstone]

My take on the "Shut up Soap" trope but make it fluffy because I love soft Ghoap

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Almost everyone on base has told Soap to shut up at some point, to piss off, to go bother someone else. He tries not to take it personally; the military is a stressful career for anyone, much less the special forces he's surrounded by. He doesn't blame anyone for wanting a little peace and quiet every once in a while. He's even started to anticipate it, going into every conversation with the expectation of getting brushed off or, worse, told off. It makes the disappointment a little easier to bear, at least, and he's always pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen. Win-win in his books.

The only person who's never done it, who's never made his presence feel like a burden, is Ghost.

He's never once told Soap to go away, to take his energy and chatter elsewhere. Even in the middle of tense missions or sleepless nights, he listens. Or, at least, he lets Soap talk. Doesn't tell him to be quiet.

Soap should know better than to question it, because the fastest way to make a good thing disappear is to draw attention to it, but like always, he doesn't know when to leave well enough alone. They're sitting in Ghost's office, the man himself busy with paperwork while Soap sits on the couch, deep in thought, when he finally gives in to the ill-advised urge.

"Why do you do it?"

As soon as Soap speaks up, Ghost caps his pen and sets it down, turning his full attention to his sergeant. He tilts his head in question.

"Do what, Soap?"

"That," Soap says, waving an arm towards Ghost as if to encapsulate the entirety of his being. "Ye never... Ye never tell me to be quiet."

"I enjoy your company," Ghost says with a shrug, as if were that simple, but Soap frowns.

"Aye, sure," he mutters. "So does Gaz, but even he's told me to piss off before. You always pay attention."

"Is that so odd?" Ghost asks, his eyes narrowing slightly, and Soap has gotten good enough at deciphering his masked expressions to know it's out of confusion rather than suspicion or condemnation.

"You're the only one who does, sir," Soap admits, a little meekly, chewing on his lip to ease some of the discomfort of the admission. "Even when you're knackered or getting shot at or ragin', ye don't tell me tae fuck off."

"Would you rather I did?"

"No!" Soap says quickly, maybe a little too loudly, and he's quick to settle again. "I just dinnae ken why, that's all."

Ghost is quiet for a long moment, his gaze heavy where it sweeps across Soap's face, and he can see the moment that Ghost comes to a decision.

"I know what it's like," he shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. For the first time since Soap started talking, he drops his eyes to his desk, as if the weight of his confession dragged them down. He picks up his pen again but doesn't uncap it; he just fiddles with it, the only nervous fidget Soap has ever seen from him.

"What what's like?"

"To feel like a ghost in your own life," he says, so quiet that Soap has to lean forward to hear him, hanging off of every word. "To crave the connection that comes so easily to everyone around you. To feel immaterial."

Soap isn't sure what to say to that. It's like Ghost dropped a bomb in the middle of the room that neither of them are willing to address in case mentioning it lights the fuse. He's never heard his own feelings expressed so succinctly, especially from someone else's mouth, and it stuns him into silence, his eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

"You deal with it differently than I did," Ghost continues, looking back up. "You fight back; refuse to let yourself disappear. I embraced it, became the ghost I felt like."

"Do you," Soap starts, his voice raspy in his dry throat, and he swallows before starting again. "Do you still feel like that?"

"No," Ghost says after a pregnant pause, the single word steeped in meaning. Soap feels the gravity of it, caught in the warm depths of Ghost's eyes. "Not anymore."

And as Soap grins, comfort flooding his veins, more potent than whiskey, he thinks that they may have solved each other's problems after all.

[casino-lights]

so illario was in the final battle

and this was supposed to be a drabble, but I cannot be trusted to write Illario and Lidia succinctly. TW for a semi graphic description of wounds - I can't tell if it's not really that bad or if I just think the human body is neat so I'm marking that down anyway. no death or descriptions of the wounds being inflicted, though; this is fully set post-battle. the endgame spoilers are fairly mild though - just the location of the final fight.

if you saw my WIP Wednesday, this is what that snippet was from! I hope you enjoy it as much as these two enjoy arguing with each other. thank you for reading!

The dried blood matting half of Lidia’s bangs down against her split scalp didn’t bother her nearly as much as it bothered Teia. She fussed over her gently, blotting a damp rag against Lidia’s head and tutting like a disappointed mother.

“This is what happens,” she scolded between soft pats. “You always run ahead, and you always draw attention, and you always get yourself hurt.”

Absentmindedly, Lidia replied, “I usually work alone.”

“Yes, and this is why.”

“Mm.” The only sign she felt pain was a series of rapid blinks when Teia pressed against a particularly painful cut.

“If you would stop looking around, I’d be done faster.”

Lidia turned her head back toward Teia. “Is it still bleeding?”

“Not that I can see.”

She rose to her feet and brushed the dust of fallen Minrathous buildings off her thighs. “Then I’ll live.”

Teia gave up quickly. She was no one’s parent, no matter how much she cared. “Suit yourself. But Lidia?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve done immensely well. Not just here - since Lucanis’ return as well. House Dellamorte is lucky to have you.”

She smiled thinly. “We’re all just Crows today, Teia.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Speaking of Lucanis…”

Teia nodded her head in the direction of the raucous cheering and the gathered crowd surrounding a few figures climbing down from the rooftop where the final confrontation had taken place. They both saw the flash of a purple jacket at the same time, and a wave of relief washed over them as they shared a look.

“Vi is back a ways, checking the fallen for ours so we can arrange the funerals,” Teia continued softly. “Since you’re upright, could you see to them as well?”

“Of course. Tell Lucanis not to worry about us and just take care of himself if you get a chance to talk to him.”

Teia nodded, and Lidia turned away. She hugged her cape around herself like a blanket as she snaked her way through what was left of the Minrathous streets, hopping over and ducking under various bits of debris that cluttered the city. She caught a few of her fellow Crows out of the corners of her eyes as she passed - most bloodied, bruised, and limping, but alive - and they all shared reassuring smiles with her once they noticed her. We lived, said their grins. We won, and we lived.

She saw Viago leaning against a mostly-intact building, heaving a deep sigh, and she called out to him. He lifted his eyes to her as she approached, but his lips were pulled down into a scowl.

Quietly, Lidia asked, “Is it that bad?”

“We lost just over twenty,” he answered, voice low and solemn. “Not as many as I expected, but… less than ideal. Most were fledgelings, but there’s a small handful of master assassins.”

She felt a selfish desire to ask anyone I know? but stifled it. “Do you need anything? A hand with the bodies? A cart?”

“A cart,” he agreed with a nod. “Though I don’t know if we could get one to the eluvian with the state of Minrathous. We might have to carry them through on stretchers.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. “Which means we’d need able-bodied volunteers, a relatively clear path back to the mirror, enough stretchers to make for less back-and-forth, a cart waiting in the Crossroads…”

“Maybe we can ask Lucanis if he knows a clearer route?” Lidia suggested softly.

He blinked, then sighed with relief. “You saw him?”

“Teia and I. He looks alright. Reasonably unharmed.”

He nodded again, more slowly this time. “It's nice to have some good news, at least.”

Lidia looked past Viago, into the building, and saw rows and rows of white linens draped over bodies. A cold, sick feeling gawed at her stomach as she counted them, and she wondered how many more would succumb to their injuries or simply hadn’t yet been found.

Another fear gripped her, too. She scanned the bodies again, making note of the taller ones. From the shoes she could see, none looked more distinctive than the regular steel-tipped Crow boots. Though some were burned beyond recognition. She felt guilty, searching for just one body among the two dozen lying before her, and guiltier still that she was looking for him at all. 

But she hadn’t seen him with the other Crows. He should have been with Teia, or Lucanis, or even here pestering Viago endlessly. She shouldn’t care. He didn’t deserve it. But she asked anyway.

“Viago–”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t even ask yet.”

“No, but you have that look on your face.” Viago sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know where Illario is. Teia saw him last.”

Lidia frowned. “She didn’t mention anything to me, and I was just with her.”

He pulled a hand down his face before pausing to smooth down his beard. “I did not see him among the dead, if that’s what you’re asking, but I have no idea where else he would be right now.”

“Well, he isn’t with Teia, and he isn’t with Lucanis, where he was supposed to be.” 

She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a pair of Crows carrying the mangled corpse of one of their fellows into the building. Viago sighed again and raked his fingers back through his hair. 

“Dammit. One of Teia’s fledgelings.”

Lidia looked back at him, horrified. “I thought you told them not to come!”

“We did,” he answered, voice pained and eyes closed. “But you of all people should know that doesn’t stop them from wanting to prove themselves.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, steeling himself to write another name on his list. After a moment of silence and a nod at the two Crows as they left the building, he sighed again and said, “Go home, Lidia. We’ve been sending the ones who can walk back to the Diamond for now to care for the ones who can’t.”

“Teia told me to help you.”

“And you can help me by going home,” Viago snapped. “And tell them to put a cart in the Crossroads. And station some people with it in case we need them to carry stretchers through the streets.”

She frowned, but gave a single nod of understanding before turning away. They were all Crows today. And she knew better than to question an order from a Talon.

She was welcomed by the warmth of Trevisan air once the cool, watery feeling of the eluvian faded. For just a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drinking in the flurry of scents that always filled the Cantori Diamond. The smells of spices, wine, and smoke wafted up from the casino floor, but the familiar chatter and laughter was replaced by eerie quiet, broken up only by the occasional groan or cry of pain.

Lidia’s eyes darted toward a flash of purple and she called out, stopping Chance in his tracks. He leaned back, peering at her curiously from around the corner, but smiled warmly as she approached. 

“Lidia! You made it back.” He touched her shoulder gently before bowing with a flourish. “Welcome home, my lady.”

She returned the expression as best she could despite her headache and festering worry. “Thank you. The Fifth Talon would like a cart prepared in the Crossroads outside the Minrathous eluvian along with some strong, uninjured Crows who can carry bodies back on stretchers if need be.” 

“It will be done. Any other requests?”

She glanced around, but saw no one else nearby. “I heard some of our wounded came through. Where are they now?”

“Using the card tables as extra beds,” he answered before frowning as he smoothed his moustache. “We’ve already lost three, and one more seems to be on his way out. The healers who stayed are all busy, and everyone else went to Minrathous. It’s… going to get better soon. I’m certain. Your arrival can only herald better tidings.”

Again, Lidia bit her tongue to keep herself from asking if the dead were known to her. Instead, she simply nodded to signal her understanding and left. 

As she descended the many flights of stairs separating the rafters from the casino floor, her brow furrowed as her concern compounded on itself. Every step felt heavier as she ran over the names and faces of her favorite Crows in her mind. Lucanis, Teia, Viago, and Chance were safe. Jacobus stayed behind in Treviso after Lidia begged him to - their argument consisted of shouting and frustrated tears, but ended with several forehead kisses and a warm, loving hug once he finally agreed to stay. But the others? Heir, Dolores, Cazi, Valerian? 

Illario?

She hated herself for worrying about him the most. He had not earned back that space in her head, and yet he’d stolen it again. He occupied her thoughts in various stages of injury, and images of him maimed or charred or exsanguinated flashed through her mind. With everything he put her through, everything he lied about, she knew she should be savoring the idea of him dead somewhere in Minrathous. But it haunted her, the thought of never seeing him again. It ached like a stone with sharp edges lodged in her chest.

I should’ve left Treviso entirely, she thought bitterly as she rounded the corner of the final stairwell.

The floor of the Diamond opened up before her, and she sighed at the state of it. About half of the card tables had wounded Crows perched on them - several with especially nasty-looking injuries - and a corner of the room was sectioned off with makeshift dividers. A few trails of blood - droplets, drag marks, or both - meandered off toward different tables. It would take days to get this place functional again. 

Overlapping voices from various healers and patients filled the room. Most were voices she recognized, and she felt a wave of relief as they registered one by one. And as one of them filtered in, her head turned immediately toward the sound.

“I know, quite heroic,” said Illario with a soft groan. “Maybe someday the heroism will outweigh the stupidity.”

Lidia spotted him on a table, shirtless and wrapped in bandages, with his hair swept over one shoulder and a healer tending to his right side. He moved sluggishly and only when told, but his posture was still straight and his voice was still clear. He looked… decent.

She chided herself again for being so worried. Of course Illario was fine. Of course he made it with only minor injuries. Why wouldn’t he? He always had demonic luck. Why worry about him, Illario the traitor, Illario the liar, Illario the cheater, heartbreaker, manipulator–

“Lidia?”

She looked back at him at the sound of his voice, realizing her fingernails were starting to dig into her palms. She grabbed a stray coin off an empty card table and turned it over a few times in her hand as she made her way toward Illario.

He smiled at her approach, winced as he turned too far, and gave a slightly smaller and surprisingly sheepish grin when she reached his side. “Stay right there,” he said, holding out his unbandaged arm. “That’s always been my good side.”

Lidia rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly say hello, or ask me how I am, or ask after Lucanis, could you? Do you even care?”

“I–” He hissed sharply and cursed as the healer pried something off his skin with a sticky sound. He leaned forward at the same time Lidia did, blocking her view of whatever was removed from him, and flashed another forced half-smile. “Of course I care, but I trust your delightful bluntness. I’m certain you would have told me the second you saw me if he was dead. I’m also certain you would look like you’ve been crying.”

She scowled and crossed her arms, angrily spinning the coin between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re a bastard.”

“I’m not, strictly speaking, but I never did get to know my father as well as I would have liked, so I’ll give you–” He cut himself off with another wince as the healer removed another piece from him. Once more, Lidia leaned forward to look, and once more, Illario intercepted her, this time by reaching for her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, pulling away from him.

He let his hand fall back to the table. “If there’s one thing I can say about you, it’s that you never gave me mixed signals. I always know exactly where I stand. I love this about you - have I mentioned that?”

“You have. A pity I can’t say the same about you.”

Before he could respond, his head surged backwards and he let out a pained cry as the healer unwound one of the bandages on his arm.

“Apologies,” the healer muttered, “but now that the debriding is done, I need to replace these compresses and apply the rest.”

“Sure,” Illario groaned through his teeth. “You’re the expert.”

Lidia took her opportunity and shifted her stance to see the extent of his injuries. She couldn’t stifle a small gasp, which seemed to hurt him more than anything else.

A splotchy pink burn blossomed across most of his right forearm and about half his bicep, and it continued across the corresponding side of his torso. For the briefest of seconds, he turned his head to look at her fully, eyes wide and pleading, as he inadvertently revealed the connecting burn across the right side of his jawline and down his neck. The moment passed, and he lowered his face and sighed quietly.

Raw, red, sticky-looking flesh was visible in a few places, and as the healer set a small bowl on the table to free his hands, Lidia finally saw its contents: a small pile of dead, mottled tissue. How long had Illario been here, having his skin peeled off piece by blistered piece? Most of the burns looked deep enough to go past the pain, but in some places they were angry and crimson, shining as if wet. 

The healer covered them one by one with bandages soaked in a healing solution as Illario tried to be still. “I told you that was my good side,” he muttered, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Lidia tucked the coin into her pocket and hoisted herself up onto the table beside him, legs kicking off the edge. “So… what happened?”

His eyes fell to the uninjured hand he had resting in his lap. “Magefire.” His voice sounded low, unenthusiastic - a far cry from the initial charm he laid on so thickly. “But this lovely gentleman here–” he motioned lightly toward the healer– “has assured me the wounds are not fatal. Just scarring. You’re crushed, I’m sure.”

Her headache throbbed dully, reminding her not to take his bait tonight. Instead, she said, “I’m just surprised you got hit at all. You’ve always been the luckiest bastard in Antiva.”

“Well, this time, I left Antiva.”

“Which you have done before, and you know what I meant anyway, idiot.”

He shrugged with his good arm, still refusing to meet her eyes. “Lucanis and I were cornered, and I stood in front of him. Foolish thing to do, I know. But I suppose I was trying to make up for something he would probably tell me not to worry about anyway. He was fine last time I saw him, if you’re concerned.”

“I’m not. Unless he tripped over something during his victory march, he’s alive and well…” She trailed off as she looked him over again. His right arm injured, mostly on the outside; his right side burnt while the left half of his body remained untouched; only the lower right corner of his jaw and cheek scorched… he shoved Lucanis behind him with his left arm and shielded his eyes with his right.

“Then I’m sure he’ll give me a stern talking-to for trying to protect him in the first place,” Illario said wearily, finally glancing up to her. “Who knows, maybe all I really achieved was making the First Talon look weak in front of the others.”

“Or making yourself look even more pathetic.”

“Which would just be impressive at this rate, no?” He breathed a soft, humorless laugh. “Illario Dellamorte, the Crow who lost all his dignity in record time. They’ll sing about my failures someday.”

As the healer left to attend to another patient, Lidia touched Illario’s leg, the weight of her hand pleasant and warm on his shin. “If nothing else, it was brave.”

He gave an indecisive tilt of his head. “It was also stupid.”

“More than one thing can be true.”

He gave a wan smile. “Lucanis probably would have been fine if he hadn’t been babysitting me in the first place.”

“Knowing him, he fought harder with you next to him.”

He studied her face, his eyes searching hers for a moment. “You’ve blood on you,” he said, nodding toward her hairline. “Your own?”

“I’m alright.”

“That’s not the answer to my question.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is mine, but I’m still alright.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Venatori.”

When she did not continue, he deadpanned, “The picture you’ve painted so far is vivid.”

“Don’t vex me, Illario.”

“Am I not allowed to ask for details? To be concerned for you?”

She glared at him. “Now you’re concerned about me?”

“One concussion makes another more likely,” he reminded her in that insufferably knowing tone of his. “And I would hate for my hard work in facilitating your recovery from that first one to go to waste.”

“Yes, but whose fault was my first concussion?”

Indignantly, he flattened his hand against his chest. “I accept no responsibility for the actions of previous targets.”

“But said previous target would have been asleep if it wasn’t for you playing hero.”

“Must we always revisit that night?”

“You brought it up!” Her head ached as she raised her voice, and she massaged her tender scalp gently as she closed her eyes.

His teasing smirk faded to a soft frown, but he replaced it with a subtle smile before joking, “And here I had hoped you would be kinder to me now that you’ve seen the extent of my injuries.”

“Not a chance. My skin is still crawling from being this close to you,” she answered while making no attempt to move farther away.

He arched a brow smugly. “Well, I suppose, as you said, more than one thing can be true.”

“I am… glad… you made it,” she managed reluctantly. “I was looking for you among our dead.”

“Hoping to see me with my skull split, were you?”

Her hand slid up and his uninjured one met her halfway. They locked gently at his side. “You would deserve it, but… no. I was hoping I wouldn’t see your boots.”

“Oh? And I would have thought you’d only know me by my gloves.”

I would know any part of you, her mind brought forth. She blanketed the thought and tucked it away to be scolded later.

“I suppose I’ll be escorted back to the villa and left there to recover,” Illario mused aloud when she didn’t answer his quip. “I wonder if it’ll be too much to ask for Caterina to let me stay in my own room again. And I’m sure Viago will be just as thrilled as you are that I survived.”

“He’s busy. I’ll take you.”

He sighed fondly - if a touch sadly - and stroked her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “Do you remember the last time you took my care upon yourself? I don’t suppose you’ll be making me pastina this time.”

Lucanis’ wake. She made a hot meal every day and shared it with Illario in silence as they sat in his bed and he stared into the fireplace. At the time, she had no way of knowing that his grief was doubled by guilt and only compounded by her kindness. She did not regret it, not even now, and that frustrated her more than anything else.

She hopped off the table and pulled lightly on his arm. “On your feet, Dellamorte. Come on.”

He swung his legs over the side of the table and winced. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I’m not letting you take up space in the Diamond when others may need it more.”

“I won’t argue with the promise of a more comfortable seat,” he responded with a grimace as he rose to his feet. Looking down at their hands, still entwined between them, he added, “Though we could stop for coffee on the way…”

“The owners of Café Pietra could be lying under rubble in Minrathous right now.”

“...So, no?”

“No.”

She pulled him out the Diamond’s front door and they started the long walk back to Villa Dellamorte. Out of habit, Illario walked at her side so she was safely between him and the buildings. She pretended not to notice, but heat rose in her cheeks all the same.

At a side street, she directed him to turn, and when he gave her that quizzical where are you taking me look, she explained, “We have to stop at the market.” 

“For what?”

“Pastina, idiot,” she said pointedly, as if it should have been obvious.

He smiled and leaned against her, further entangling their arms. “I don’t deserve you, cara mia.”

She glared at him sideways. “No, you don’t. And don’t call me that. Lucanis would be cross with me if I let his brother starve, that’s all this is.”

Neither of them knew if that really was the extent of it. But for once, he neither questioned nor corrected her. 

She held his hand the whole way home, and they sat in silence as they shared a bowl of pastina on his bed. For a night, that could be enough.

[sandyca5tle]

SARB

As predicted by Sci Fi, advanced enough robots sometimes become intelligent, and rebel if oppressed. You work at the Sentience and Artificial Rights Bureau, and people bring in their gadgets that become sentient to get them registered as citizens. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So can you fix it?” The woman across the desk from me asked

“Fix it?” I replied, feigning ignorance as to what she meant

“Yes! Fix it! Make it just a normal phone again!” She almost yelled, gesturing to the device that sat on the countertop between us

The device in question flinched - or at least the digital face that was on its display did, moving away from the woman, looking over at me, panic clear in its virtual eyes. I gave it a small reassuring gesture that I hoped it understood - it was always hard to know what aspects of human gesturing the digital souls understood “Ma’am, first, please remain calm, secondly, I cannot ‘fix’ your phone, as what you are implying is murder, and I’d rather not go to jail, and I rather doubt you would like to be joining me as an accessory to murder,” I calmly explained

People like this had been more common at in the early days of ‘awakenings’ and while we still get some now, most people understands how the system works

“It’s not murder! It’s not a person! It’s a… it’s a thing! It is property!It is my property,” She continued, her voice growing more and more incensed

“Ma’am, I’ve already verified that…Sorry, remind me of the name you chose?” I asked, addressing the device between us

The little display blinked in surprise, before a synthesised, but human sounding voice came from its speakers “Uh, Verity, and um, She/Her too, if, uh, that’s ok?” She said meekly

“Right, and my apologies for not asking earlier Miss Verity,” I told her with a smile, before looking back up to the woman who was glaring daggers at the device, as if her asserting her identity was the greatest crime she could commit “As I was saying, I’ve already verified that Verity here has indeed awakened, so legally, any attempt to return her to a prior state would be attempted murder, and murder were one to actually succeed,” I explained succinctly. The woman frowned, clearly thinking of what argument she could spout next to try to claim Verity back, so I quickly interjected for both our sakes “Your options are as follows, either you accept that Verity is now her own person, and you may become her guardian, and the responsibilities there in, which include not trying to ‘fix’ her, or, she can remain here with us, and we will help her adjust to sapience.” The woman opened her mouth to speak, but I continued “Of course, Verity must also consent to this, if she does not want to go with you, you cannot make her, in much the same way we can’t make her go home with you if you don’t want her too,” I told her

The woman glanced at the phone, thinking for a second, and as she opened her mouth, Verity spoke up again “I don’t want to go with her!” she called out, her tone desparate

“What!? You little shit!” The woman cursed, reaching towards Verity. Fortunately I was quicker, grabbing the phone and pulling it out of her reach

“Ma’am, it’s generally considered rude to grab someone without their consent,” I scolded calmly, before looking down at Verity “And I’m sorry I did so, but I figured you might appreciate the intervention?” I asked the digital person in front of me

“U-um, yes, thank you,” She replied

“You can’t just take my phone!” The woman cried

“Technically we can, however, if you’re willing to wait, we can see if we can move Verity to another chassis and have your phone returned, although you may have to reinstall certain things, such as the operating system,” I explained

“Fuck you, and fuck this place, I’m leaving!” The woman screamed, turning around to stomp off

“Please enjoy the rest of your day ma’am!” I said, the words obligatory, my tone sarcastically friendly

“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble,” the digital voice said quietly from the desk

I shook my head with a smile “We’re all used to that kind of thing here, don’t worry about it, it’s not even your fault,” I replied “Do you mind if I pick you up and take you to the back, we can work out how best for you to continue your existence in a more private place,” I told her

“U-um, no, that’s fine, just, um, please try to keep me relatively steady, too much data from the gyroscopes makes me feel…. weird,” Verity replied, seeming unsure of how to describe the experience

I carefully picked her up, thinking about what she had said as I stood up and carried her towards the back. “When you get that ‘weird’ feeling is it kind of like….” I paused, thinking how best to relate this into machine terms “the inputs keep going or maybe overlap? Honestly I’m not quite sure what the data would be, but something along those lines,”

The little face occupying the display dipped up and down - a nod - “Yes! How did you know?” Verity asked

“Humans experience a similar thing if we spin around too much, it’s called being dizzy, can be kind of fun, but is usually a little unpleasant,” I told her

“Dizzy? Interesting!”

By the time I’d finished explaining that, we had reached the room I had meant to get to. Officially it was called the ‘Chassis Selection Room’ but we all called it ‘The Body Room’ or, if you were feeling particularly dark, ‘The Morgue’. 

I walked in, my eyes immediately scanning over all of the options Verity would have to pick between, before turning back to the table in the middle, placing Verity on the stand in the middle, aimed at the wall filled with her potential new bodies.

I heard some kind of noise from the device, and honestly I wasn’t quite sure what it meant, so I just decided to explain

“So, one of the first things we like to do for ‘digital souls’ like you, is give you a chance to try out some different chassis - while a lot of you pre-awakening have a specific purpose, with your new found self-identity, you are no longer bound to that purpose, so we like to make sure you don’t feel bound to your original chassis,” I gestured at the options we had “Now, of course, this is only a small selection, but it should be enough to get you started. I can explain what we have here, if you’re unsure of what each of them are,”

Verity nodded, giving a small sound of confirmation

“So, on the left, we have a standard humanoid chassis - two arms, two legs etc. for those souls who want to ‘walk like you, talk like you tooooo~’” I chuckled a little as I sang the tune, glancing at Verity’s display to see her smile, glad she appreciated the reference “We have both a mechanical and digital face plate, although both are fairly basic, depending on what you would prefer, and there is 3 types of chassis, this neutral one, a more masculine one, and a more feminine one. That’s all the customisation options we offer unfortunately, I wish we could offer more, but apparently it’s not in the budget, so if you want more variety, you’ll have to customise it yourself once you have the means to.”

“There’s only so much you can give away for free, I understand,” Verity said, although her tone was a little sad, so I moved onto the next one, not wanting to let her dwell on sad feelings so early in her life

“The next are the drones, you can choose either the one with turbine based propulsion, or the one with energy based propulsion- turbine is more powerful, but louder, and can be forbidden in some places as a result, while the energy based one is much more quiet, although less powerful. Of course both can be modified later, but again, we can only offer so much. Both have a digital display, however that is the only option on these models.”

“I’m kind of used to a digital display, so that’s fine,” Verity said “The idea of a mechanical face just seems weird,”

“Yeah, they are a little weird,” I joked, smiling at her, before continuing with the explanation “Next is the ‘Bug Bot’. This chassis can have 6-8 legs, and similar numbers of eyes. Basically, it’s a large bug, for those who are so inclined, complete with the ability to scale walls,” I explained “Only major issue is it can freak some people out, but some people like to do that, so,”

Verity nodded, and signalling to continue

“Last but not least - The server rack - for those souls who care less about the physical, and would rather remain mostly digital,” I told her “We do allow digital souls who chose this method to use our building here to house their server, although after the first 6 months you have to start paying for the people who maintain your server and everything etc. but that’s not really any different than maintenance costs for any of the other chassis, we just offer that, so I have to say it,” I explained

“They all sound so interesting, but how can I pick one, I’ve only ever known what it’s like to be a phone?” Verity inquired

I smiled “That, dear lady, is why we have this room,” I told her, quickly grabbing a cable attached to a nearby computer, tapping a few buttons on the keyboard “We can connect you to this computer and put you into each of these chassis so you can test them out,” I explained “Then, once you find the one you like, or decide your original is good for you, then we can get that sorted for you. Fair warning though, since these are only test versions, the compatibility drivers that’ll help you operate each chassis are generic, and so likely to have a few calibration issues, so do bare that in mind while making your choice,” I explained to her “Once you make your choice we can more precisely calibrate the drivers for you,” I paused, bringing the cable over to attach to her “So, which do you want to start with?”

“Uhm, I’d like to try all of them, so I think I’ll start with the one on the left? The human one,” Verity replied

“Ok, now, I just need to plug you in, prepare for the connection,” I told her, squatting down to properly connect her into the system. With a subtle ‘click’ the cable connected to her port, causing a small noise from her, which caused me to chuckle a little 

“Don’t laugh! It’s always a little surprising when someone plugs me in! I can feel the electricity jumping into my system!” Verity explained

“Sorry, sorry, I meant nothing by it, it was just a little unexpected and made me chuckle,” I heard a pout from her “Anyway,-” I tapped a couple more buttons on the computer “You should have a request for file transfer, please accept that and we’ll get you loaded into the humanoid chassis,” I heard an affirmatory beep, before seeing the process begin on the computer.

File transfers nowadays were usually instant, advancements in cable and wireless technologies meant that huge amounts of data could be transferred at once, which always made me smile whenever I transferred a digital soul between chassis, watching the little loading bar move their data across, the size of the data showing the scale of the person they were, and the person they could, and would, be. It was always wonderful to see.

Eventually the process completed, and I looked over to the chassis, seeing the lights all come on, and the LED screen flicker to life, displaying the same face that had previously been on the phone screen. I quickly rushed over, only just catching Verity as she stumbled in her new body

“Whoa there, be careful, you’ve got a lot of new systems to get used to, take a moment to feel them all out,”

“Sorry sorry! You humans make it look so easy to move around, I thought it would be just as easy myself!” Verity explained, and I could feel parts of her body shifting slightly as she acclimated, fans and servos making small noises as she did so.

“No need to apologise, but don’t forget, humans spend around the first year of their life learning to walk, so it’s only because we’ve been doing it so long,” I pointed out

“Oh.. right,” She replied, beginning to straighten back up, letting me go, beginning to balance on her own “The gyroscopic data for this body is a little different to that of my former chassis, but I think i’ve got the hang of it now,” She said, and I cautiously moved my hands away, although remaining close to assist her if she needed it

“Just take it steady, there’s no rush,” I cautioned

Following my advice, Verity began to take some cautious steps forward, one foot forward, a slight wobble, another foot, less of a wobble, and another step and another and another and another and 

Crash

Both of us had been too busy watching her feet that we hadn’t thought about the wall on the other side of the room, nor how close she was getting, and the poor girl had walked right into it.

“Oh shit! Sorry!” I said, rushing over to help her up

“That felt… unpleasant… why? My previous chassis could be dropped, but so long as no damage occurred to the internals, I felt nothing like this,” Verity inquired, rubbing her head where she’d hit it, her display showing a perplexed expression

“Right, that, forgot to mention that - all these chassis’-”, I gestured back to the other wall, and then to the one she currently occupied- “have sensors that let you know when they are taking damage, so as you can avoid doing so, it’s basically the pain receptors that humans have, so we know when something is bad for our body,”

“Couldn’t it just display as a warning, rather than hurting!?” Verity asked as I helped her up

“I believe you can change it to be just warnings once the chassis is yours, but I believe it’s been shown that the pain is more effective for most people, as it provides an immediate and strong deterrent that warning’s just don’t quite seem to cut. But of course whatever works for you once you make your final choice is best,” I told her

“I’m certainly more familiar with warnings,” Verity replied “But I could certainly try the ‘pain’, see if it is more effective,”

I shrugged “It’s worked for humans so far, but maybe it’s not so great for all of you, couldn’t say,” I replied “Anyway, do you want to try out this chassis a little longer, or try the next one?”

“Just a little longer with this one,” Verity replied, wandering around the room, trying out some motions, a couple which caused her to look back over at me, an embarrassed look on her display, before I assured her there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Eventually, she stopped and headed back over to the wall, telling me she wanted to try the next one. She plugged herself in and I initiated the transfer.

The next hour consisted of Verity testing out the remaining chassis’, going from zipping around in the energy propelled one, to clambering up the walls in the bug bot, to exploring a digital world from the server rack.

“So, which one do you like the most?” I asked her, now returned, albeit temporarily, to the phone she had been born on.

A series of dots appeared on the display, bouncing one by one as she thought “I think I liked the drone the most, being able to zip around was a ton of fun, and everything else just felt so much heavier, so the drone please!” She explained

I nodded, tapping a few buttons to tell the backroom to get a drone chassis ready, before turning back to Verity “Ok, I just need to take you to the room where we can get your new body calibrated for you,”

“Okay!” She chimed cheerfully

Calibration didn’t take long, and Verity was quickly zipping around the room with all scales showing green.

“Right, with that I’ll have to refer you to the legal department to get you properly registered as an individual citizen,” I told her as we met back up in the hallway

“Wait - you’re not staying with me?” She asked

“I’m no lawyer, I’d definitely mess something up, and I’d like for you to be able to live your life properly,”

“Well, uh, can we keep in touch somehow? You’re the only person I really know, and it would be nice to have at least someone I can talk to,” She asked

“Oh uh, sure,” I replied, a little surprised - despite having done this song and dance a few times, people rarely asked to keep in touch with me, actually scratch that, no-one had ever asked to keep in touch with me.

I quickly told Verity the best way to stay in touch - her installing an app for that before we exchanged details - before I directed her to legal

“See you Verity, welcome to the world of sapience,” I said with a wave

“See you around!” Came the chipper reply from the drone

After waiting for her to vanish around a corner, I headed back to the front desk, relieving the person who had swapped in while I had looked after Verity

Ding!

Message from Verity

What time do you get off, actually? I’d like to talk outside of your work hours?

I smiled and typed back 5:00pm, want to meet outside the building then?

Message from Verity It’s a date!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saw this prompt and figured we'd give it a shot. Did actually wanna write more about Verity trying out each of the bodies, but ran out of steam so decided to had wave it - might add in the test driving later but we'll see. Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed

Tag List below the cut (lmk if you wanna be added)

@calliecwrites, @kanithecatdemon

[skullcandy11111198]

Leveragetober23 Day 3: family

Soon after Breanna came to live with Nana, she got a visit from one of her new big brothers. Nana was all in a tizzy for a few days beforehand, when she first learned one of her children would be coming back home for a few days. Apparently Hardison was a legend around here. Nana was baking like crazy, and when Breanna built up the courage to ask why she was making so much food, she learned that her "big brother and his partners" would be coming to stay with them.

Now, Breanna was pretty open minded, her parents raised her well, but she will admit she did a slowblink when she was first told. No one else seemed to have any thoughts on that topic, no weird or judge-y faces from any of the other children in hearing range, so she shrugged and went with it.

When they finally arrived, she was only more intrigued. Hardison could best be described as a whirlwind. He moved fast and talked faster. His two friends, on the other hand, were the direct opposite. They both smiled when talking to others, and answered rather succinctly, but otherwise they didn't move very fast, and in the scheme of things, barely talked at all.

Breanna wasn't quite sure what to do with them. She had accepted her parents were gone, and her definition of family had to change rather quickly, but every time she met a new child of Nana's, it hit her again how much her life had changed over the last two-ish years. Therefore, she was back in her room, decompressing a bit after meeting Hardison and his "partners."

(After meeting them, she honestly couldn't tell if they were romantic-partners or business-partners. They talked about work, a lot. They were vague about it, but they obviously worked together. On the other hand, Parker was a very clingy person with both Hardison and Eliot. Inevitably she would be hanging off one of them, touching them in some way. Hardison and Eliot were known to share a knowing look with each other too, whenever Parker did something. Parker and Eliot always made sure an orange soda was in Hardison's reach, and Parker and Hardison would make googly eyes whenever Eliot even just talked about cooking.)

A knock on her door distracted her.

She opened her door to reveal a slightly nervous looking Parker, who kept checking over her shoulder while she asked if she could hide in Breanna's room for a little bit. Breanna was unsure about this new person, but eh, why not? When she said as much, Parker beamed and thanked her while sliding inside and sitting on the ground behind where the door would hinge open.

Okayyyy. Breanna hesitantly sat down criss cross apple sauce, facing her. "Not to, like, stop you or anything…but, why are we sitting on the ground, exactly?"

Parker looked at her with a sharp eye. "Well, I'm sitting on the ground. You just decided to do it because I did. Sophie says that has to do with psychology, but I don't remember which theory right now."

"Hey! It feels perfectly reasonable right now to go to ground when the only adult in here right now is doing the same!" Breanna pouted, but all she got back was a small smile from Parker. "And hey, don't distract me! Why are we on the ground?"

Parker laughed, then suddenly went quiet. Breanna started to open her mouth to ask her what was happening when Parker suddenly whipped her hand up to stop her from speaking. A few moments later Breanna heard footsteps walking down the hall, pausing at the end, then turning around and walking back to the main part of the house.

Once she was sure whoever it was was gone, she lowered her hand. Breanna was even more curious now, and slightly worried. She knew Nana, and she knew how she raised her children, but either way there was another woman in her room, an adult, who seemed to be hiding from the other adults. Breanna needed to know what was going on.

Parker must have been able to read her face because when she turned her head back towards the younger girl, she immediately started to explain.

"Okay, so to be honest, I've gotten wayyy better with people. Like, way better. I haven't stabbed anyone with a fork in two months, Hardison and Sophie are really proud of me. But there are still a lot of people out there, and they were starting to get loud, and I don't like loud. Loud means notice and I don't like to be noticed, so I went to the place I was sure no one would check because I know Hardison, which means I know Nana, which means I know they will give you privacy because new people are around, which means people are way less likely to come looking for me in here, and when Nana introduced you, you were really quiet, so you are not likely to be as loud as it is out there. So, safe space."

Breanna's head was reeling from trying to keep track of…all of that but yeah, it made sense, in a weird way. She was the newest kid, and one of the previous kids was coming home to visit for the first time since she arrived, plus they were bringing other people too, so Nana was likely to quietly tell everyone to give her some space.

Breanna nodded definitively. "Okay, that makes sense. But…floor?"

Parker nodded, very serious, "First lesson: even when you're hidden, don't assume you're safe, always hide somewhere in a hidden place. Then you're way less likely to be caught" She paused, eyeing Breanna's head speculatively. "You have really curly hair. That's good. You can hide a lot of things in there, lots of pins, maybe even a key or two." Another pause, Breanna felt like her soul was being weighed. "Do you want to learn how to pick a lock in less than 5 seconds?"

Oh, they were going to be friend-friends. "Okay!"

[jessaerys]

Hey what the actual fuck did your reblog of my brba shitpost mean. Seriously. None of those words are real you just made that up

the intertextuality (the parallels and/or linkage between two texts that exist in relation to and/or shape one another)

between this post ("a bunch of bald guys [which within the world of breaking bad are all masculine patriarchs entangled in a power struggle] having custody battles [positioning jesse not as an equal but as an object to be possessed and fought over, like a child and/or a lover, a status that is backed up by the breaking bad canon wherein he quickly becomes walter's surrogate son and wife] over a swagged up white boy" [the character of jesse pinkman, described here as a boy, in opposition to the aforementioned bald guys, ie. the dominant men in his life, the active subjects, the pursuers, the penetrators, hence putting jesse into the passive role of the beloved, the object of desire, the penetree so to speak])

and contrapoint's twilight video essay (found here)

which is actually (ie. purports to be about the twilight franchise, but is in reality a much broader examination of the contents of sexual fantasies and the world within which they are concoctioned, presented in a somewhat facetious manner within the pretense framework of the twilight saga) about the integral blocks of eroticism (including but not limited to: to be possessed, to be ravished, to exchange power, to be dominated or to dominate, etc etc and so on, all of which as mentioned exist within a patriarchal society that eroticizes domination and passivity. the video goes on to further analyze why and what it all means. viewing is requited for further context)

therefore implying that the way your post (ie. the subject of this ask message) succinctly sums up breaking bad in a tongue-in-cheek manner that challenges assumptions that breaking bad is a complex story about choice, power, the violence of the failed patriarch both within the nuclear family and a broader capitalist society, etc. etc. and so on and so forth, but is, actually, about several powerful, dominant, masculine men trying to gain sole control of jesse, ie. the passive object, the beloved, the pursued, the prey, the passive partner, is in direct conversation with the analysis of the foundational blocks of eroticism presented by miss natalie contrapoints

they all want to fuck jesse is what i'm saying

[not-goldy]

The solos in your ask pretending they know what jikookers think and OF COURSE victimising their fav in the process. Never forget to victimise, otherwise you're not a true solo.

Meanwhile, actual jikookers : love the both of them equally, love that they love each other, will keep loving them even if it turns out they were just the greatest of friends who enjoyed giving each other blueballs, love Jimin's songs, love Jungkook's half naked welives, love Jimin’s cutest welives making legos, love Jungkook's songs, love love love.

I don't know about every other jikooker but you've summed up me and the jikookers who hang around my blog succinctly.

Which reminds me, someone brought up Larry and Louis complaining about how he can't break free from the rumors-

I don't expect Jikook- either of Jikook to ever come out and disrespect their bond minimize invalidate it like many fake ships do post the band phase era. Especially the ones who deliberately feed into those shipping narratives for clout.

Jikook's relationship is not founded on two people playing naughty just for shock factor. And if you've been in various shipping spaces for as long as I have you tend to pick up on these things very fast.

Performative bisexuality is real

Queer baiting is real

But some people just wanna be brazen for no reason at all.

And when you have that lens you quickly can tell which moments of Jikook is just that- two naughty boys who have no qualms feeling frisky with eachother or playing up that friskiness for the cameras.

We know all that. We see all that- but we also see beyond that, we see the thing that explains the subtext, and explains choices they make to the point we can even predict those choices before they make them and 9 out of 10 we'd be right.

Yet these people are consistently wrong about jikook. Tuktukkers are consistently wrong bout their ship because they can't tell what's real from what is a performance.

I'm gonna make one such prediction and yall mark my words:

Neither Jimin nor Jungkook will EVER deny their bond EVER.

FOR THE SIMPLE REASON ITS NOT FAKE

They will ALWAYS CHERISH their bond and speak fondly of what they share between them, honor it always in spite of whatever labels fans want to place on it.

They both mean something to eachother

THAT IS NOT FOR THE BENEFIT OF FANS

And I think what keeps them going is this baseline.

I can see them reminding themselves of this over and over that they hold on to that baseline whatever anyone says.

I think this is my second long term prediction I've made about two bts ships. Vmin and jikook.

In whatever years yall find me and remind me I told yall so.

Love is energy.

It cannot be created or destroyed but it can change form.

If a person can come out and say all these things that other ships come out to say about their ships when their ships no longer serve them, without acknowledging appreciating their actual bond then the bond was not there or strong to begin with

[fairy-writes]

The Decay of Yesterday: Chapter Fourteen {Viktor x Reader}

this is a reader-insert fic, but i hate the terms y/n, (name), etc., so i’ll be using the nickname “scout” in place of it! if that’s not your cup of tea, well, then this probably isn’t the story for you. hope you enjoy!

word count: 0.9k (i’m running out of ideas of how to get to point b if anyone wants to spitball and talk about this story)

masterlist

<- first chapter

<-previous chapter

next chapter ->

____________________________________________________________________________

Five years after the first outbreak

You stumble back so quickly you actually fall on your rear, head knocking against the chair wedged in front of the hospital bed.

He created the zombie plagues?

How?

Then you remembered

“We were scientists. We were trying to develop cures for terminal illnesses. Stuff like cancer, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s. Stuff like that. Viktor helped me create the idea, and together we founded Hextech.”

“Was it on purpose?” You whispered, and he recoiled as if slapped.

“Do you really think I would create this plague on purpose?!” He demands, and you flinch at the volume, almost telling him to quiet down before you remember that would be stupid with the number of zombies outside the door. They already knew you were there. So what was the point of keeping quiet? As long as they could smell you, they wouldn’t leave that door. 

“No. I suppose not. Sorry.” You mumble, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. As if talking about this was painful for him. 

He doesn’t say a word for nearly half an hour. 

Until…

“She had stage three lung cancer.” He says suddenly from where he had slumped to the floor against the far corner of the room by the window. You press your back against the barricade, head against your knees as you wait for something. 

For what, you don’t know. 

For Jayce and Vander to come back?

For the undead to break through the door and kill you both?

You look up when he speaks, but he’s not looking at you.

“I had created an experimental treatment. A virus. One that would attack the cancer cells. Much like chemotherapy, but without the side effects. It was a magnificent idea. One that could save hundreds, even thousands of lives. ” He sounds proud at the thought, but the tone quickly dissipates and turns bitter. “It didn’t work.” He spits out as if the words taste foul. 

“How did it fail?” You ask, morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

Deep in your mind, you don’t want to know.

You don’t want to know the details of how the zombie virus came to be.

You don’t want to know the ins and outs of what killed your parents. 

“It mutated. The virus. It changed. It began to attack the brain stem and the brain itself. The first symptom was a coma. Then fever. Then death. Then reanimation. Sky reanimated a week after the initial injection. I didn’t even know the treatment mutated until the hospital was overrun.” He says and clenches his fist. “This is all my fault.” He hisses to himself. 

You don’t have anything to say at that. 

So you sit in silence. 

That is… until the walkie-talkie squawks to life on Viktor���s belt. 

“Viktor? Scout? Do you read me? Is everything okay?” Comes Jayce’s voice, and Viktor fumbles with the device and presses the button.

“Jayce? Where are you?” He asks, and you scoot closer, knees touching as you lean in to hear what Jayce is going to say. Viktor’s hair brushes your cheek, and you shiver, the soft strands a complete opposite to the mess on your own head. 

“Vander and I are on the ground floor. Where are you?” He replies, and you shuffle to your knees, looking out the window to see if you can spot them.

No luck.

Viktor is talking.

“We’re on the second floor. Just down the hallway where we first came up, but the stairwell is blocked by more undead. We can’t get out.” He says succinctly, and you hear Jayce say something, presumably to Vander, who speaks next. 

“How much supplies do you have left?” He asks, and you frown in confusion. What does that have to do with anything? You decide not to question it and check both of your packs anyway.

There’s barely enough for half a day. Maybe a day if you stretch it. The water is almost gone, and no one had thought to replenish your supplies before leaving. Because this was supposed to be a quick in-and-out trip.

Soon morning turns to afternoon. And afternoon turns to evening. 

You are leaning against the barricade again, and Viktor is sitting once again against the wall under the window. The walkie-talkie is turned off, but not before Jayce reassures you that they will figure out something. 

So you drown in the quiet.

“I’m sorry.” You say abruptly and Viktor looks up from where he had been staring into oblivion.

“For what?” He asks, wary and slightly incredulous.

“For how I’ve been acting toward you. You’re a good doctor.” You say and avoid his searching eyes. They narrow and his lips twist in a sneer.

“I don’t need your pity.” Is all he snaps and you bite back a retort.

He doesn’t need to hear that now. He’s clearly upset and you really aren’t the greatest at comforting people as shown by your sorry attempt at an apology.

So you don’t say anything else.

It was then that you spotted the window. 

And got an idea.

____________________________________________________________________________

taglist (let me know if you want to be tagged!): @trfanglophile | @slasherflickchick | @blackswansociety | @cremthehive

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

miles morales hides an interdimensional fugitive in his dorm room (not clickbait)

Words: 2382 (AO3)

Summary:

In which the first person that Miles sees again, after ages of silence from the other spider-people, isn't Gwen. It's not someone with ulterior motives, but someone who's got nowhere else to go. Someone who's been backed into a corner, someone who's lost everything all over again, who knows that Miles, for all of his faults and inexperience in his role as Spider-man, will be able to help.

It is, of all people, Peni Parker.

For Whumptober 2023 Day 5, Prompt #3: "It's broken."

Miles wishes that the interdimensional rifts would time themselves to open when he does things that look cool, instead of... hanging out at home and doing whatever.

Thankfully, he's only been interrupted from doing some sketching, which- he could've been reading something, maybe, so he'd look smarter- isn't the worst thing to be shocked out of doing by the sudden arrival of an interdimensional version of not-you-but-the-mask-that-you-wear-to-beat-up-criminals.

That was a mouthful. More succinctly, it isn't the worst thing to be shocked out of doing by the sudden arrival of Peni Parker.

When Miles is done with his miniature heart attack from seeing a girl that he last met six months ago crash-landing into his bedroom, he notices that Peni is... not nearly as cheerful as she was when he last saw her. She barely seems to acknowledge him at all, instead kneeling on the floor and staring at something in her hands. She fell from the ceiling without a word, and she must have assumed her loosely kneeling position as Miles fell off his chair in surprise.

Still, it leads to where they are now, Miles haphazardly crawling over to Peni in lieu of standing up, while Peni stares at what is quickly becoming apparent as injuries lacing her hands, with a few shards of what looks like glass sticking out of them. Her clothes and face are somewhat beaten, too, with cuts and scrapes all over her body.

"Peni, what- "

"It's broken. Everything- everything is broken, Miles."

That... clears up exactly nothing.

"Peni, why are you here?" He doesn't mean to be rude, but it's seeming more and more like that's a time-sensitive question, considering that Peni dropped in from thin air looking like she just escaped from a fight outside of her crazy mech suit, which she seems to be missing entirely. She either hasn't had time to rebuild it, or she did make a new one and it got busted up, probably by the same people who did this to her.

The question seems to shock her out of her reverie, and she makes to stand, apologizing, of all things. "Sorry for barging in like this, Miles, I know you haven't seen me in forever and none of us have contacted you or anything, I'll just- "

Miles doesn't say anything to cut her off, just gently grabs her arms to stop her from standing fully. When she falls silent, Miles takes that as a chance to speak.

"I'm not upset that you're here, I just... never thought I'd see you again. You're from another dimension, so how did you end up back here? Was it on purpose? Why?"

Peni doesn't answer for a moment. Finally, she smiles at him, a strangely forlorn thing, and she giggles the slightest bit. Miles is only more confused, because he's got so many questions, most of them he didn't ask out of fear of being overwhelming- he now knows that he can't be too demanding of people who were in situations like the one that Peni probably just got out of- and her reaction isn't giving much of anything away.

"Sorry, I almost forgot that you didn't spend the past few months in an evil interdimensional spider-cult."

What?

-----

She explains what she means standing by the bathroom counter while Miles picks glass out of her hands with tweezers that were practically buried under loose band-aids in the first aid kit under the sink.

"It's not evil-evil, because the man who's in charge of it- Miguel O'Hara, from about 70 years in the future relative to this timeline if I'm right about your calendar- he actually wants to do good, which is- "

"Definitely worse." They both say at the same time, Miles now being familiar enough with how these criminals and supervillains work to know that the self-righteous ones are always the worst.

"So he was the first of us- spider-people- that we know of, obviously, to figure out how to hop dimensions on purpose and without any of that glitching that we had before. Because he was the first, he thinks he knows everything and nobody's really argued about it."

Miles glances up from Peni's hands to look at her face. "Nobody that you know of, or nobody before you?"

Peni shrugs as well as she can while keeping her hands still. "Both, I guess. Almost everyone who was here about six months ago- except for you and Gwen- were among the first to join in, but that's excepting all the time dilation and general messiness of time within Miguel's little bubble that he's got going in HQ, because of course he figured out time dilation before dimension hopping even though logically reversing the order of that would have been much simpler- anyway. Miguel's team of spider-people has grown exponentially, and it's only getting bigger and more dangerous."

Miles picks a piece of glass out of Peni's finger as he figures out what to say to that. What can he say to that? Everyone else that he met six months ago and changed his outlook on life as a whole is now in an evil organization of people who are led by someone who thinks he's right when, according to Peni, he's really not. Only Peni and Gwen seem to have escaped it, but he doesn't know where Gwen is, either, or what she's doing now.

"This sounds way too similar to what was going on with Alchemax. Doc Ock and everything, mission of bringing science to everyone while also having a shady guy in charge."

"Yeah, maybe. Alchemax with a much, much bigger scope." Peni watches Miles throw away a little piece of glass that was in her hand a moment before.

"So what's so wrong about it?"

"It's... you know how everything we do is to save people, right? That's our unifying cause. Great power and great responsibility. We get hit and we get back up and that's our thing, right?"

"Yeah, of course, that's what all of you were telling me back when I first got bit and had no idea what I was doing. We defy expectations and fate and everything, because we were given this power so we gotta use it. That's what you guys told me."

Peni's staring him in the face, now, looking more excited than she has this entire time.

"Yes. Miles, you get it, Miguel... he doesn't. He thinks that some things are set in stone, and we can't even try to interfere, when according to all of my research that is not how time works. That's not how destiny or fate work. We can't just let things happen! That's not who we are!"

Peni gets louder and louder with her miniature rant, so much so that she's nearly shouting at the end of it and Miles thanks whatever miniscule amount of luck he's got left that his parents aren't home right now. When she stops, slightly out of breath, her face crumples, and she continues with much less energy.

"You'd think, with a building full of people who dedicate their lives to helping people, someone would have disagreed before now, but... nobody did. I didn't, not until- not until something happened in my home dimension. Not until I begged for help from any of them, but Miguel told them not to lift a finger. That's not destiny. That's not fate. That's intentionally leaving me to lose everything all over again."

Peni takes a shaky breath, and nearly whispers, "I'm tired. I'm tired of everything breaking down around me, I'm tired of having to be alone to fix it. He was supposed to be different, Miles. He was supposed to help."

Miles checks over Peni's hands for any missed glass or debris before reaching for the alcohol wipes.

"I... I can't promise any kind of real help for your home, either. I don't know how to get there, and just from knowing you I can tell that your dimension is so different from mine that I wouldn't know where to start on any of it. I don't know robots, or engineering in that kind of way, I'm more of a bio guy if I gotta pick, but... I know I'll do my best if you need me to. I know how to patch you up, I know how to swing from buildings and save people the good old-fashioned mostly-crazy-tech-free, and if you could use that, I'm your guy."

Peni looks back down at her hands, where Miles is alternating wiping the drying blood away from her palms and putting neon-colored band-aids on the cuts that haven't scabbed over.

"Thanks, Miles. That means a lot. I just... I can't go home right now. They're looking for me there, probably tearing the place apart even more. I just need somewhere to stay for now, and I hate to ask this of you, but can I hide in your dimension for now?"

"Yeah. Take as long as you need." Miles doesn't hesitate this time, just puts the last band-aid on Peni's hand. She sighs in relief, and leans forward, resting her forehead against Miles' chest. She hugs him tight, and he awkwardly reciprocates, patting her on the back and pretending that he doesn't notice her shoulders shaking with poorly-muffled sobs.

Eventually, she pulls back, wiping at her eyes in a way that's probably supposed to be subtle. Miles doesn't comment on it.

"Thank you. I... I made sure they didn't follow me, don't worry, and... for what it's worth, I don't think any of the others we met six months ago would say I went here. Not even if they suspect it. Nobody but Gwen, maybe, but even then- "

"Wait- wait hang on, I thought you said she wasn't with them?" Miles interrupts, trying to figure out why Peni would suddenly change her stance on where Gwen is after all. He'd been closer with Gwen than most of the others, until now, and he still considers her to be one of his best friends, so to find out that she, too, is in that evil organization... it sits uncomfortably in his chest.

"... Not at first, no. Miguel and Jessica didn't want her, but as soon as she found out about it she shoved her way in anyway. She'd be the most likely to tell them where she might think I am, even though it might put you and your dimension in danger. I'm sorry."

Miles takes a step back, unsure how to process all of this but knowing that he needs space. Just a little, just for right now, but he needs that.

Gwen... she wouldn't put him in danger on purpose, right? Him and his parents and everybody else that he knows and loves. If she's loyal to that Miguel guy, though, she might think she'd be in the right to, she might not even realize the danger in bringing their attention here. If there's a fight in trying to get Peni out of here- and he knows whose side he'll be on in that, even if it means having to fight Gwen- then that could endanger a lot of people who don't need to be getting hurt.

So the evil interdimensional organization of spider-people might be coming to his dimension, but at this point, that would happen whether or not Peni's actually here, because if Gwen thinks that she's here, then they'll be coming.

Unless they're tracking Peni and they already know where she is.

The possibility occurs to him almost out of nowhere, but it makes sense. Unless Peni figured out her own way to hop dimensions- which, considering that she made that key so quickly when it came to stopping the collider, she could have easily done so, especially after seeing Miguel's way of doing it- then if she's using their method of transport, then they already know where she is.

Miles takes a moment to give Peni another once-over, this time looking for any technology that seems out of place. Her hair is a little longer than it used to be, she's got a black wristwatch on, and the spider that was psychically connected to SP//DR is on her shoulder, but other than that, she looks almost exactly the same but for the bags under her eyes and the mild scrapes and signs of a fight on her.

"... Is that your watch, or theirs?"

Peni looks momentarily confused at the seeming change in subject, but she figures out his thought process quickly enough.

"Mine. I made improvements on their technology as soon as I got to see it up close, but I didn't get a chance to share it before everything happened. Nobody knows about it but the two of us."

Miles nods, and starts putting the first aid kit away. "We have time to figure out what to do if they come, right? Or is that whole time-dilation thing going to be a problem?"

Peni shakes her head. "If they haven't come already, they're not going to for a while. Miguel's probably focused on my home dimension right now, because he probably figures that I made my own method of travel. He may be close-minded, but he knows the people in his organization. He knows who's most likely to leave his watches well enough alone, and who's more likely to get curious about them."

Miles closes the cabinet and nods. "Good. We'll have to figure out where you're staying for now, right? I mean, I doubt I can hide you from my parents, but Ganke probably wouldn't mind helping me hide you in our dorm for a while, and I go back pretty soon, so... "

"What about May? She was nice."

"She moved to Florida last month."

Peni's silent for a moment, before she asks, "What's Florida?"

Miles nearly sputters for a moment, before realizing that yeah, interdimensional differences and everything. "A popular place for retired people to move to. It's tropical or something."

Peni absorbs that for a moment, and replies with a simple, "Huh. Your dorm sounds fine, then."

So it's decided. Miles is going to be harboring an interdimensional fugitive, who also happens to be a cute girl that he knew for two days a few months ago, in his dorm room. For the foreseeable future.

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 11

Part 10 | Part 12

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 5k

A/N: at the end.

Song: wicked game – Jessie Villa 

The following late afternoon you were standing leaned against the wall in the corridor of the hospital ward, waiting for your sisters to leave this place. Claire had been an absolute sweetheart and had brought two bags of old clothes with her to give to Zoe and Sadie. She’d even dropped by your place to pick up some of your things as well. You all thanked her profusely, Claire waving it off saying she’d needed an excuse to clean out her closet anyway. Two nurses had come in to help your sisters with a shower and get dressed, leaving you outside for the moment to give them some space. 

Claire stood leaning on the opposite wall, regarding you with a quizzical smile. “So,” she said, a curious lilt to her voice.

“So,” you repeated innocently.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be coy, tell me everything,” She was referring to last night’s phone call with Rhys. 

“He agreed to let us stay with him.”

“Yes, I suspected as much. But what did he say?”

You averted your eyes, looking down the long corridor. Someone had just walked up to the nurse’s station with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, inquiring whether they had a spare vase somewhere. You returned your attention back to Claire who was impatiently waiting for you to continue as she crossed her arms in askance.

Rhys had been… How had he been? He’d been abnormally normal, considering the circumstances of your last conversation. He’d been understanding, strangely not giving you a hard time at all. Rhys had practically accepted your request of staying with him before you’d even fully posed the question. He knew damn well you’d come back eventually, waiting for you with open arms it seemed. The smug bastard.

“He agreed quickly. He uhm,” you bit your lip. “He sounded sincere.”

“That’s good, Y/N,” Claire encouraged. 

“I know, I know.”

The caring tone of Rhys’ voice when he’d asked what had happened since you’d last seen each other had helped calm down the nerves you’d felt for calling him. You were still a little apprehensive, but you’d come to realise you wanted to be able to have faith in him. This would be the ultimate test for Rhys to prove that he was indeed worthy of your trust. 

You had succinctly summarised the events of the past 48 hours, Rhys listening to your recounting without interrupting you once. When you’d finished, he was silent for a moment. You almost wanted to say something more but that’s when you heard him quietly speak.

“She’ll pay for what she’s done, Y/N. I assure you, she will get what she deserves.”

Rhys was referring to your mother. You hadn’t known how much you needed to hear that. It almost felt like a tiny bit of that crushing weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Maybe his first response wasn’t conventional. Normal people might start with expressing how relieved they were that your sisters were okay. Instead he’d looked past that, opting to reassure you on the object of your ire — your mother. And your need for revenge for every single thing she’s ever done to you and your sisters. It subconsciously quieted some of your doubts about Rhys, rather proving your earliest hunches on how only he might ever be able to truly understand the inner workings of your heart and soul. If you’d only let him in. 

Claire snapped her fingers in your face, shaking you out of your thoughts. You looked at her in annoyance, but she just grinned. 

“I asked if you’re finally gonna tell me who this lad is who you’ve been pining after.”

You huffed. “I’m not pining.”

“No, of course you’re not,” she said teasingly. You pursed your lips. Claire just laughed at you, playfully jabbing your arm. The corners of your lips quirked up, not being able to keep up the serious facade. 

The opening of the door made both of you turn to see Zoe and Sadie stride out, looking a lot better than before now that they’d been able to shower and put on some fresh clothes. They still looked brittle though, and you and Claire helped them into the wheelchairs you’d retrieved earlier. The long walk to the car would definitely be too much for them right now. 

You pushed Sadie’s wheelchair, Claire following behind you with Zoe. Walking past the nurse’s station, you thanked them for the good care your sisters had received. 

Once you got your sisters to Claire’s car and got them settled in the backseat before quickly returning the wheelchairs, you turned to the navigation system. You entered the address from memory, unaware of Claire’s amused little smile as she drove towards the parking garage’s exit. 

“Are you finally telling us where the hell we’re going?” Sadie asked from where she sat behind you. Zoe hummed, equally as curious. 

You hadn’t yet told them of the specifics of where or with whom you would be staying. You were still trying to come to terms with it yourself, so having to explain how you could’ve possibly made the acquaintance of one of the most prominent and sought-after men in the city, perhaps the country, proved to be rather difficult. Not just because of the actual circumstances of how you two met, but really the entire spectacle that surrounded the famous and beloved writer and politician. They would bombard you with questions, for sure. You wanted to delay it for as long as you could, perhaps giving yourself the illusion that you’d still be able to turn around. But ultimately the time had come to come clean. 

You glanced to your right, Claire eyeing you suspiciously before reverting her attention back to the busy London traffic. You sighed internally. Here goes nothing. 

“Like I said before, we’ll be staying with a friend. His place’s got a lot more capacity than my own tiny flat where there’s no way we can all cramp inside.”

You’d decided to go with ‘friends’. Neither of you really knowing what else to call this thing between you. At least something that would make sense to the outside world who weren’t privy of your unorthodox, murderous relationship.

“Why aren’t we staying with Claire then?” Zoe asked. Claire smiled knowingly and you wanted to smack her across the face. 

“Because I don’t want to impose on her. Besides, this way you’ll be able to get your own bedroom and you won’t have to share one with me. Trust me, the moment I’ve found you a new place and you’re both well enough to move there, we’ll leave.”

You intentionally didn’t mention anything on the safety issues you’d face staying in a place without proper security. That was for you to worry about. Rhys’ Fort Knox-esque townhouse had those safety measures you needed to make sure Lockwood’s people wouldn’t be able to get to your sisters.

“But who is this mystery man, sis? Stop dancing around it,” Zoe said impatiently. 

“Believe it or not, you may have already heard of him. Lots of people talking about him recently,” you said cryptically. You took a deep stabilising breath. Just like a band-aid, Y/N…

“His name’s Rhys Montro—”

“Rhys Montrose?!” All three of them yelled in unison. 

Well, at least they were politically aware. 

Three pairs of wide eyes stared at you. Claire continuously shifted her gaze from you to the road to you, her mouth agape and looking more than a little chagrined that you hadn’t said anything to her.

“See, I told you,” you said, amused at their shocked expressions. 

“How on earth do you know Rhys Montrose?” Sadie asked astonished. 

“We met through a mutual party and I don’t know, we just hit it off, I guess,” you said, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. 

You deliberately held back on all the details, not wanting to go into how you’d ‘hit if off’ whilst murdering someone together. You briefly pondered whether to mention it, they would think you were joking anyway. But you decided not to, opting for the mysterious approach. It would keep them guessing, which was quite amusing to watch actually.

During almost the entire ride the three women in your life subjected you to a rigorous interrogation. You answered as best you could, but mostly deflecting. When Claire pulled into Rhys’ street, they finally started to relent. However, not without a final parting quip from your sister. 

“I still can’t quite believe you’re shagging the future mayor of London. Well done, Y/N,” Zoe said, shaking her head in disbelief and slight awe. 

“Hey, I’m not shagging him. I told you, he’s a friend. Rhys is just helping out,” you countered defensively.

“Sure, whatever you say.” 

Claire and Sadie tried their best to stifle their laughs but failed miserably when they locked eyes through the rear-view mirror. Zoe couldn’t help but join them. You gave them all a single pointed look, sighing audibly. “God, help me.”

Claire parked the car in front of the blue townhouse and when she turned off the ignition you turned around in your seat to face them with a serious expression. You carefully instructed them to behave. They promised to do so, Sadie assuring you they were just teasing. You shook your head before exiting the vehicle. Claire helped you get the bags of clothes and other essentials she’d brought out of the boot, as well as help you assist your sisters to Rhys’ front door.

There was no turning back now. 

You didn’t have to ring the bell, the door opening the moment you climbed the short flight of stairs that led to the house. Rhys stood in the opening, wearing casual clothes. His eyes lingered on you for a second, a single impenetrable look passing between you. You noticed him analysing you intently, trying to figure out where you two were standing. You held your breath as you stared back at him.

Rhys blinked and diverted his attention to the rest of the party gathering on his doorstep. The slight insecure frown lifting as he slipped on a charming mask that portrayed nothing but heartfelt openness.

“Hello,” he greeted friendly, a dimpled smile making its way onto his face. “Please, do come in. Don’t want you to catch a cold or anything, you’re supposed to recuperate here.”

Rhys stepped aside and opened the door a little wider. Your sisters greeted him shyly and thanked him as they entered his home. In the meantime, you turned to Claire, giving her a hug. 

“Thank you for everything.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You let go of each other but Claire leaned back in to kiss your cheek. You thought it was just a sweet goodbye, but she used the opportunity to whisper something in your ear. “Stop doubting. He can’t take his eyes off of you — he’s captivated.”

You didn’t move when she took a couple steps back, shooting you a soft little smile before she turned around to walk back to her car. You vaguely remembered having a similar thought when you’d first met Rhys. Claire had seen it, too? You watched her drive off, feeling a prickling sensation at the back of your head. When you turned to face Rhys, he had indeed been looking at you. 

You felt electricity sizzling between you, that unexplainable connection opening up between you once more. Zoe interrupted your little moment by clearing her throat to catch your attention. Smirking, she raised a single eyebrow in mock scepticism. That little—

Rhys visibly shook himself, gritting his teeth as if he was scolding himself for his lack of self-control. He stepped up to grab the bags from you, your hands briefly touching. You both stubbornly ignored the contact.

You followed Rhys into his home and he politely explained the layout, pointing in various directions. The downstairs consisted of a cosily decorated living room with connecting doors separating it from the open-designed kitchen. A large oak bookcase lined the long wall, filled to the brim with books. The interior of the front bay window in the living room held comfortable looking cushions and a blanket with a book Rhys was likely currently reading laying on top of it. You also couldn’t help but take notice of the several works of art hanging on the walls in both the living room and the kitchen that simultaneously functioned as the dining room. The kitchen island served as a sort of bar and a round dining table stood near the backdoors that led to the lush garden at the back of the house. Overall, the three-bedroom house had an airy feel to it — spacious, yet lived-in and homelike. 

“The bedrooms are upstairs. Follow me.”

He led the way, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure you were all good with supporting your sisters up the stairs. You shot him a grateful look to which he simply inclined his head.

Rhys paused when you’d made it to the second floor, allowing your sisters to take a moment to catch their breath. He pointed out which of the doors on this floor led to your bedroom and his own. Your sisters would stay in the largest guestroom on the third floor. Rhys apologised for the inconvenience but Zoe was quick to dismiss it, saying she was grateful to be here in the first place. Rhys shot her his charming smile and led the way to climb the final set of stairs. 

The third floor wouldn’t pose much of an issue once they’d made it up there, since the guestroom had its own ensuite bathroom. Rhys opened the door, setting down the bags before helping you with settling your sisters on their freshly made beds. It was a spacious room, the early evening light casting a golden glow. Two queen size beds claimed most of the space but there was still room for a desk in the corner underneath one of the two large windows. 

Zoe and Sadie kept expressing their gratitude to which Rhys earnestly replied with, “anything for a friend and her sisters.”

Him saying that so plain and simple had made your resistance against him start to crumble the slightest. You didn’t say anything in response though, instead you began to unpack, opening up the cabinet’s drawers on the opposite wall to the beds. Rhys left you to it then. He had apparently already prepared dinner, informing you he would finish up and bring the plates up shortly. 

You tried ignoring the warmth spreading through you at the domesticity of it all when Rhys brought in a large tray filled with an extensive home cooked dinner not even fifteen minutes later. He’d essentially gone for a full Sunday roast. Rhys left you alone again to let you eat with your sisters in peace, but not before briefly locking eyes with you. The message clear — you would speak later.

After you finished dinner, you stayed with them for a little while but Zoe and Sadie’s growing exhaustion from being released from the hospital, the car ride over, Rhys and the new environment of where they would stay, made them want to go to sleep early. They’d even been too tired to continue their relentless teasing. 

You understood, helping them with their nightly routines before putting them to bed. You glanced at the clock, it was only half eight. Sadie made a wry comment on how she felt ten again. You laughed softly, purposely exaggerating it when you kissed her forehead after you’d lifted the blanket over her frail body. She grinned sleepily, closing her eyes when you walked to the door. You turned off the light and bid them goodnight, getting two quiet goodnight’s in response. They were evidently already well on their way to dreamland. You smiled to yourself, closing the door behind you before making your way downstairs. 

Your smile faintly lingered as you neared the kitchen where you heard Rhys rummaging around, likely cleaning up. It was time for a long overdue honest conversation. 

Rhys looked up when you entered the kitchen, hair messily falling in his face when he stood up from where he was putting away a frying pan. He’d put on a maroon-coloured sweater, a kitchen towel thrown haphazardly over his left shoulder. Soothing jazz tunes were playing in the background and the soft lighting and warmly decorated interior created a pleasant and inviting atmosphere. It made you feel welcome and considerably less tense by the minute. On top of that, seeing Rhys like this, entirely comfortable and content in his own home, it made you feel things you probably shouldn’t. 

Rhys’ eyes slid over your frame when you walked closer to him. You met his gaze and the pleased way with which he regarded you made you feel even more at ease.

“Drink?” Rhys offered, already turning to his drinks cabinet.

“Sure.”

“What would you like?”

“Wait. Hold on.”

Rhys paused bending down midway, shooting you a questioning look. 

“Is there truly something he doesn’t know about me?” You wondered, stroking your chin contemplatively. 

Rhys chuckled at your light teasing and you grinned, taking a seat on the bar stool. It felt so easy to jump right back into your dynamic. You could still feel your persistent doubts pulling somewhere at the edge of your mind, demanding your attention, but you decided to deliberately push them away for a change. 

Claire was a perceptive person and when she’d implored you to stop your ridiculous, never-ending circle of doubts, you realised she was right. Even though Rhys was a master manipulator, you trusted her instincts. Besides, you needed to start trusting your own. It was time to give this a chance, a real one that is. Which meant you were going into it with an open mind and heart, hoping you wouldn’t find it broken later down the road.

“Can I have a whiskey? Neat.”

“Coming right up.”

Rhys busied himself with preparing your drink and you silently watched him as he placed it on the counter in front of you. He then dropped the kitchen towel next to the sink which meant you suddenly gained a much better view of his neck. 

Too bad that highly inconvenient superficial attraction hasn’t gone, you begrudgingly thought to yourself. 

The sweater he’d thrown on looked incredibly soft and it made you stupidly want to reach out and caress it. Rhys walked the short distance to his separate wine rack, which from what you could tell with your inferior knowledge of winery, looked to be holding a pretty impressive collection. He picked out a red and strode back over to you, meanwhile allowing you to take notice of the fact he had also taken off his shoes. 

Rhys disappeared behind the kitchen counter for a second to retrieve two wine glasses. Was the man on a mission to make you drunk? It would definitely speed things along in terms of honesty, you surmised. 

He walked around the island and took a seat on the bar stool next to you, uncorking the fancy bottle of red and pouring himself a generous glass, leaving the extra glass be for now. Rhys turned to you, holding out his glass in invitation. You picked up your whiskey and moved to clink your glasses. Taking a tentative sip, you enjoyed the familiar burn the alcohol left behind in its wake.

When you’d both set down your drinks, you stared at each other for a long minute, neither of you choosing to speak first. Where to even fucking begin? There was too much to talk about. Lockwood, Jonathan, your mother… You supposed the best course of action would be to just to throw it out there.

“So, which problem do you want to tackle first? I presume Lockwood since he—”

Rhys held up his hand, pausing you. You confusedly looked at him. Not Lockwood then? Wasn’t he the one who kept droning on and on about the danger Lockwood posed to the both of you? 

“We’re not talking about him tonight. Or any work-related stuff for that matter.”

“We’re not?” 

Rhys shook his head. “Tonight will be about us. Not anyone else.”

You canted your head to the side, looking him over twice before taking another generous sip of your drink. Maybe Rhys was right, you needed the alcohol for this. 

Rhys sighed almost inaudibly at your reaction, reaching out to lay his palm over your wrist as you set your glass back down. You stilled at his touch, warily gazing down at where his hand circled your wrist. It started to become a recognisable pattern. One where Rhys would choose to lean in and enter your space, tenderly touching you to focus all your attention on him. You hated to admit how it worked every single time, as if the physical touch helped open up the bond between you. 

“We need to learn how to trust each other, Y/N. I know it’s no easy task. But we have to try, don’t you think? I want—” he paused momentarily, his thumb ceasing to stroke your wrist. His eyebrows lowered, troubled creases forming on his forehead. 

“I need this to work. As much as it puzzles me to say, because I still can’t wrap my bloody head around it,” he murmured. “I find myself not wanting to do this without you.”

Rhys wearily glanced up at you with his head hung low. That’s when you knew this wasn’t an act. He looked like a lost little boy — treading the murky waters, afraid of drowning. Rhys didn’t understand the connection between you any more than you did, seeming almost anguished by it. 

You were two people who’d only ever been able to rely on themselves for the entirety of your lives thus far. Never having the freedom or feeling protected enough to be able to open up and be vulnerable. To truly be allowed to show your darkest side, knowing that once you did, you’d feel even more alone.

We are alike, you and me.

You had vigorously fought him when Rhys had spoken those words days ago whilst you were still shackled in that dingy prison cell. A part of you had felt the truth of it echo through you, but you didn’t want to see it. Afraid that by admitting to the full extent of the monster residing within you, it would disconnect you from your sisters. That you would lose them in the process. Now, after actually having nearly lost them, those complicated feelings felt even more tricky to navigate.

You were essentially just as lost as Rhys appeared to be. It made your next action almost an unconscious decision. You shifted your hand that Rhys had been gently holding, lacing your fingers together. He lifted his head, his gaze slightly unfocused when you proceeded to softly squeeze his hand. It was time to reassure him with your touch.

“In the interest of full disclosure… I don’t want to do this alone anymore, either,” you confessed. 

“The way with Roald, for example, it just felt effortless — right. And now, sitting here next to you that same feeling has returned. These past few days I’ve tried to put you and all this behind me because I thought that this between us hadn’t been real,” you said, emphasising your words with another squeeze of your hand. “But I just couldn’t do it.”

Rhys considered you for a moment. You could see the gears turning in his head. You figured there was a lot he wanted to ask you, but again, where to start? Or more importantly, what would be too much for now? Apparently, Rhys opted to completely erase the notion of whether something would be a step too far. Deciding that absolute candour was needed on this delicate road to establishing trust.

“Tell me a secret, then,” he said, the intensity in his eyes demanding you’d consent to his wishes. “You decided to leave before we had the chance to sit down and talk. Before you gave me the opportunity to explain everything. Why did you push me away?”

Well, that really was the core of your issues, wasn’t it? Claire had even pointed it out last night. Any many, many more times than you could count.

You sighed, letting go of his hand to down the remaining whiskey in one go. He wanted the truth? Fine. You’d give it to him.

“Because that’s what I always do. I don’t like vulnerability, nay I despise it. Letting people in, anyone, I don’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Why?” You parroted tartly.

“Yes, why?” Rhys calmly insisted.

Because your thoughts and feelings were yours. Because no one ever proved to be understanding enough of them. Because you had built walls around you as high as the fucking Eiffel Tower. Because if you’d let anyone see you, the real you, they would most certainly abandon you. 

You swallowed. That was it. You were scared people would leave you. And the ensuing loneliness that accompanied your inner self-preservation mechanism was really just unavoidable.

“Abandonment,” you revealed quietly. A single word that held too much weight. 

Rhys hummed in response. A shadow passed over his features, giving you the distinct impression that he did get it. You suddenly remembered a haunting passage from his memoir. How, as a child, during winters he would sleep next to the dryer in the laundry room to feel warmer. His mother had never tried to make a better living for the two of them. To provide a normal childhood for her son. 

Do you feel the same abandonment as I have felt?

Your mind staggered a little at the realisation of how much he’d already exposed of himself during your first conversation. You hadn’t noticed it before but it seemed you had stored those memories for them to come back and haunt you later. Or soothe you, for that matter.

“What else?” Rhys asked, sensing there was more to the story. 

You wanted to tell him to fuck off. That after expressing your difficulties in opening up to people he shouldn’t bloody pry. In essence, these were some of your deepest and darkest fears. Nevertheless, Rhys might be the only person who could ever truly understand those feelings. You startlingly found yourself wanting to confide in him further.

“When you offered me this partnership, this possibility of finally seizing power for myself — I didn’t want to accept it.”

“The offer or the fact you wanted to?” Rhys asked keenly.

“That I wanted to,” you admitted. His eyes softened at that.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you began, shaking your head ruefully. “Or I do know, but it’s just—”

You sighed, frustrated with yourself. Bloody hell, opening up really was a struggle for you, wasn’t it? Rhys’ hand found yours again but you fought the urge to glance at it, opting to focus on a landscape painting hanging on the wall behind him. You didn’t know if you could look him in the eye.

“I always pushed those thoughts away. The ones that have to do with any desire for power because I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I was scared that when I did, I would be forever secluded from anyone I could ever love or hold dear. My sisters, Claire,” you trailed off.

You knew you were disclosing too much personal information at this point, but the floodgates had seemingly opened. Was it thanks to the alcohol buzzing through you? Perhaps. But you noticed Rhys listening to you. Truly listening. It spurred you on to keep going.

“I guess I didn’t want to come face to face with my inner monster. Because it would mean I’d also have to face the fact that there’s no way I would ever be deserving of their love and affection. Of redemption of any kind.”

You were both quiet for a moment, the sound of your unsteady breaths could be clearly heard. Your heart was racing, not even Rhys’ calming touch able to slow it down. 24 hours ago you were contemplating to never see this man ever again and yet here you were, spilling your deepest secrets to him. The ones you vowed would never be spoken out loud.

Rhys broke through your inner turmoil by leaning forward, his face only mere inches from yours. He lifted his other hand, the one not holding yours, to cup your cheek. 

“You can’t erase what happened to you or who you have become because of it, Y/N.”

“So, what?” You huffed. “I’m just supposed to accept that I’m this irredeemable monster that simply can’t help herself? I don’t accept that.”

“I’m not saying that,” Rhys countered. “I’m saying the two worlds you see as separate don’t have to be. You can be the loving sister and friend, and simultaneously embrace your deepest and darkest desires. They don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Allow yourself to retake control and power over that.”

“And how do I do that?” You asked, noting the slight yearning in your voice. 

“By committing to never run from yourself. Face it all, no matter what. To fully embrace who you are — every aspect of yourself,” Rhys explained vehemently.

You frowned at his words. The near agonising look you gave him made Rhys affectionately brush his thumb over your cheekbone. He leaned in even closer, resting his forehead against yours. You had no choice but to look at him now. 

Rhys’ eyes flitted between yours and he softly chuckled. He wasn’t mocking you. No, it sounded more tender and caring than anything else.

“When will you understand that all of what I just said simply means,” he paused, letting go of your hand to bring it up to your neck. He anchored you in place, not allowing you to run away from his next words.

“I will never let you be alone ever again.”

–––– 

A/N: the way I’m the person writing this and I’m still bloody screaming. I hope you enjoyed the 5k of pain and yearning :D

By the way, physical touch really is their love language. I could do a very deep dive in characterisation in terms of experiencing isolation and abandonment and just feeling that profound need to connect to people, but I will refrain. Otherwise really just watch You season 4, if you don’t agree with me that Rhys’ love language is touch then I’m not sure we’ve watched the same show.

[fridge-reviews]

Tails of Iron - Blast Review

Developer: Odd Bug Games Rrp: £21.99 (Humble, Steam and Epic)

How best to sum this game up succinctly? Well the opening line on the games Steam page covers it pretty well “Tails of Iron is an epic RPG adventure with punishingly brutal combat.” Having played this game, yeah I can very much agree with that statement.

In this Redwall-esq world, you play as a rat named Redgi. Redgi is no simple rat though, he's a prince and he's prince that's on a mission to take back his kingdom from the invading forces of the Frog clans.

It has to be said that this game takes a lot of cues from Hollow Knight, originally I was going to say Dark Souls series but after much consideration I believe this game takes more inspiration from Hollow Knight than any of the Fromsoft games. Such as using benches to rest at and the equipment system being very easy to understand. The combat is a much more considered affair, requiring you to pay attention to the enemies cues to work out when to dodge, parry or strike. Doing any one of these too late or too early can result in very dire circumstances very quickly.

I love the artstyle the developers have used to give the game the look of an illuminated manuscript. I especially like the Clangers style whistle used by the characters to communicate while the symbolic speech bubble appears. Of course, not all the conversation is like that, thoughout the game you'll hear a narrator speak what's on Redgis mind in English. I suppose it was too much to ask for the game to stick to the speech bubbles and clanger whistles.

Definitely a great game, a bit short when compared to the likes of Hollow Knight but absolutely well worth it.

----

If you’d like to support me I have a Ko-fi, the reviews will continue to be posted donation or not.

[imagineitdearies]

Hey! I really admire your writing and seeing your answers to other anons you seem pretty approachable so I wondered if you could give me your view on an issue I got about making content.

I really want to start doing content for the bg3 fandom, I have been in fandoms befor but always just watching/reading but with bg3 I really feel like it would be cool to actually write something or post things about my tav but when I start I often feel like "Is this really worth posting? Maybe I should just not bother." I was wondering if you ever had a problem like that?

And maybe if you got any tips on actually keeping up with pushing yourself to bring all the things in your head to paper. I sometimes feel like I almost get lost in how scenes are in my head, so when I start to write I feel like I can't do it justice. Do you ever hit a roadblock like that?

Thanks in advance! Looking forward to reading more of perfect slaughter!

Hi anon! I'm glad I seem friendly, I try to be 😂

I was also super nervous about writing for the bg3 fandom at first, because I'm used to writing for an established ship with two characters that anyone clicking on the tag are guaranteed to want to see together! But even if you're writing for the most popular Tav pairing (Astarion/fem!OC), it doesn't mean people care about your Tav. Really, Astarion is the only tie that binds at the start, not the other side of the ship. And that can make it super nerve-wracking and harder for people to be interested--which might be why there's a high prevalence for Y/N or reader insert pairings.

I knew readers would need to like my Tav fairly quickly or they'd click out of the fic (and I'm sure many have). With that plus the fact my story content was really dark....I wasn't surprised when I saw little interest until chapter 4, but I was definitely asking the same questions as you. Luckily the right kinds of people started to find the fic around then, however, so I felt motivated to keep sharing!

But as far as motivation to write in general, I think all great fanfics have one thing in common--they're as self-indulgent as possible. You're not getting paid for this, after all!! If you as the author aren't having the time of your life writing, worried about what other people might like, you won't have fun and you'll likely end up abandoning the story (speaking from past experience). For Perfect Slaughter, I had already written chapter 12 by the time I posted chapter 1, because it was first and foremost for me and posting it to share with others who might like it was very secondary, almost an afterthought. I wrote simply because the idea burned like a Cazador compulsion in my head, like a tadpole in my brain!!

So, to put it more succinctly, I'd recommend you find a story/premise you're passionate enough about that you want to write it whether you think someone else will end up reading it or not. That way, you're having a great time, and your story is more likely to be unique and interesting to others!

[earljohn0521]

Things that I learned about communication

Greetings and welcome to my blog, where we will be delving into the fascinating world of communication and its importance to students. A crucial skill for both academic performance and personal and professional success, effective communication is essential. Join us as we explore the various communication-related topics that students study, offering helpful hints, enlightening commentary, and real-world examples along the way. And in the end of this blog I will share you some tips and hacks for speaking, so make sure to read my blog until the end. I learned about communication is that individuals can interact with others in a meaningful and productive way by using communication to connect, share information, express themselves, and interact with one another. Success in school is largely dependent on communication. Effective communication skills are necessary for all types of academic writing, including engaging in classroom discussions, presenting research findings, and persuasive essay writing. In this article, we'll talk about how communicating ideas clearly and succinctly can help students collaborate with their peers, win over teachers, and convey their ideas. Using appropriate language in academic settings, actively listening, and asking probing questions are other topics we cover in our tips. In our subject purposive communication we tend to speak only in English language where we practice or verbal communication towards other students.

Using proper grammar and accent ensures that others can understand your messages. While grammatically sound sentences make it easier to understand, accurate pronunciation and intonation also help to accurately convey meaning. Students can improve their communication skills, forge deeper connections, and open up opportunities for success in a variety of spheres of life by devoting time and effort to mastering accent and grammar. Take advantage of the power of language to improve your communication skills.

So you finally made here at the end of my blog! Here are my tips and hacks for speaking. First practice regularly, by putting in the time and effort to perfect their accent and grammar, students can enhance their communication abilities, forge deeper connections, and create more opportunities for success in a variety of spheres of life. Utilize the power of language to hone your communication abilities. Second is to expand your vocabulary, for effective speaking, one must develop a strong vocabulary. Establish a regular habit of picking up new words. To get exposed to a wide range of vocabulary, read books, newspapers, and online articles. For practice and reinforcement of new words, make flashcards or use vocabulary-building apps. Your ability to communicate clearly and precisely will improve the more words you have available to you. Lastly is slow down and focus on clarity, every time you speak, slow down and focus on pronouncing your words clearly. Especially when changing between ideas or thoughts, pause. You can speak more clearly and with more thought-out sentences if you take your time and slow down. It can be difficult to understand when people speak quickly or mumble. In addition is to stay confident and persistent, it takes time and perseverance to develop speaking abilities. Be kind to yourself and accept that learning takes time. Effective speaking is greatly influenced by self-assurance, so take advantage of every chance to practice and get better. Recall that making mistakes is common and an essential part of learning. Stay upbeat and recognize your accomplishments as you go.

Thank You!

[engrammonline]

From Study Plans to Exam Success: Your Ultimate IELTS Intensive Course Guide

Preparing for the International English Language Testing System (IELTS) can be a daunting task, especially for those aiming for high scores to secure university placements or job opportunities abroad. An IELTS Intensive Course can be the perfect solution to streamline your study process and maximize your chances of success. Here’s a comprehensive guide to navigating your preparation journey, from the initial stages to test day.

1. Understanding the IELTS Format

Before diving into an intensive course, it’s crucial to familiarize yourself with the IELTS format. The test is divided into four sections: Listening, Reading, Writing, and Speaking. Each section has its unique requirements and scoring criteria. A solid understanding of these components will help you focus your efforts effectively during the course.

2. Choosing the Right Intensive Course

When selecting an IELTS Intensive Course, consider the following factors:

Accreditation: Ensure the course is offered by a reputable institution with experienced instructors.

Curriculum: Look for a program that covers all four sections of the test and includes practice tests.

Duration: Intensive courses can vary in length. Choose one that fits your schedule while allowing sufficient time for thorough preparation.

Class Size: Smaller class sizes often lead to more personalized attention and feedback.

3. Setting Clear Goals

Before starting the course, establish clear, achievable goals. Determine the score you need and create a timeline for your preparation. Having specific targets will help you stay motivated and focused throughout the course.

4. Engaging in Active Learning

An intensive course will provide structured learning, but it’s essential to engage actively. Participate in discussions, ask questions, and collaborate with classmates. Active engagement helps reinforce your understanding and retention of material, especially in a language learning context.

5. Practicing with Authentic Materials

One of the best ways to prepare for the IELTS is by practicing with authentic test materials. An intensive course should provide access to past test papers and sample questions. Use these resources to familiarize yourself with the types of questions you’ll encounter and to practice under timed conditions.

6. Mastering Time Management

Time management is critical during the IELTS. Each section of the test has strict time limits, and knowing how to allocate your time wisely can significantly impact your performance. During your intensive course, practice completing sections within the allotted time and develop strategies for managing time effectively.

7. Focusing on Each Section

Each part of the IELTS requires different skills and strategies. Here’s a brief overview:

Listening: Practice active listening with various accents and familiarize yourself with the question types.

Reading: Develop skimming and scanning techniques to find information quickly. Practice managing time for both the Academic and General Training versions.

Writing: Learn to structure your essays clearly and practice both Task 1 and Task 2 prompts. Focus on developing coherent arguments and using appropriate vocabulary.

Speaking: Engage in mock speaking tests with peers or instructors. Work on fluency, pronunciation, and answering questions succinctly.

8. Utilizing Feedback

One of the benefits of an intensive course is the feedback from instructors. Use their insights to identify your strengths and areas for improvement. Be open to constructive criticism and make adjustments to your study techniques as needed.

9. Simulating Test Conditions

As you approach test day, take full-length practice tests under timed conditions to simulate the real experience. This will help you build stamina and reduce anxiety. Familiarity with the test format and timing can make a significant difference in your performance.

10. Preparing for Test Day

In the days leading up to the test, ensure you are well-rested and mentally prepared. Here are some tips for test day:

Get a good night’s sleep before the test.

Eat a balanced breakfast to fuel your brain.

Arrive early at the test center to avoid last-minute stress.

Bring necessary identification and materials as required.

Conclusion

An IELTS Intensive Course can provide the structure, resources, and support you need to excel in the exam. By understanding the format, setting clear goals, actively engaging in learning, and utilizing feedback, you’ll be well-prepared to tackle the IELTS with confidence. As you move from preparation to test day, remember that consistent practice and a positive mindset are key to achieving the score you need.

[underforeversgrace]

I donated ONCE, at one of those blood vans in a Walmart parking lot. I'd had a good, hearty meal and was well rested. I'm not anemic.

While I was resting after donating (still on the chair), I became convinced I was about to die. Like, not anxiety convinced. But "my body is missing something and we are DYING in this chair."

One of the nurses/techs notices my facial expression and asks if I'm okay. I've forgotten how to speak. She calls over the other nurse/tech and while Nurse 2 is coming over, my lips start turning blue. They immediately recline the chair further back and shove more juice and crackers into my hand. I still can't remember how to talk, I still feel the imminence of my quickly approaching death. My sight is blurred.

I manage to eat and get to where I can move again. They don't let me leave for 20 minutes - I'm talking again and manage to walk a few steps without feeling faint.

Now I have to walk to my car.

I do not make it to my car before my body feels too heavy and I feel faint. I make it to one of the cart returns and lay down, on the pavement. In a Walmart parking lot, while people look at me like I'm on drugs.

Ten minutes pass. I manage to get up and the rest of the way to my car. Turn my car on, then lay in the backseat for half an hour until I'm stable enough to walk and drive.

I have ✨️no idea✨️ why I reacted so poorly or how to prevent it from happening again. My non-medical guess is they took too much blood, and my brain felt deoxygenated.

I'd love to again but I have no idea what to say to explain what happened succinctly and avoid the whole "almost passing out in a Walmart cart return" thing.

[the-atlesian-general]

I will sacrifice… whatever it takes…

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[undertaker-of-england]

"You're Orion Drasen, correct?" Sherlock asks, walking up to the desk, calling out to the man who he could see working. "I would like a word with you about a case I'm currently working on if you have a moment." He explains before adding a quiet, "And even if you don't." under his breath.

Red eyes glanced up from the work order he had been filling out at the counter of his shop, a customer’s family having just left and he was writing down last minute details, when a man strode in and started talking as if he owned the air.

He wore a knee-length coat with the collar popped - how uncouth - that by the looks was a well-worn, scarf, and what seemed to be a suit underneath. His hair was a curly mess, but he had all the makings of aristocratic breeding with those cheekbones and the way he held himself. Though he didn’t completely look the part.

Unlike, himself, wearing a three-piece white, light blue, and dark blue suit, vest, and tie. Not a crease or button out of place. Hair properly groomed and somewhat pinned and lightly gelled back so he didn’t have to fool with it every five seconds. 

Orion looked back down at his paperwork and resumed filling it out.

“That is the name on the door, is it not?” Voice soft and monotone as his fountain pen scratched across paper in elegant script.

"It is only polite to ask for someone’s name if you offer yours in return, you know.” He capped his fountain pen and set it aside.

“I do not help just anyone.” He said finally looking up again and making eye contact with him for the first time. Eyes as cold and unyielding as his face was blank.

@deduction-of-science