#all technology has been working against me at work today

[terrainofheartfelt]

for when my soul's too tired to speak | Chapter 3

new chapter! A wake at the van der Bilt country house, starring Jenny, Nate, & co. click on the link for concerned girlfriend!Jenny, more married!Dair, blenny mutual admiration society, vintage Humphrey ribbing, and more.

[coldfanbou]

Saleswoman

Who would've thought Yuna made a good saleswoman...Well, I would have. Anyway, here's the fic for the week; originally, I was thinking of doing a Yuna gangbang fic, but then Eros presented a saleswoman concept I liked in a writer discord and thought would be easier than a gangbang.

Length 2.1K

Yuna X Mreader

Having seen good reviews about the new mattress store, you look up the location. Your mattress has had a depression in it after years of use, and you needed another. The reviews praise the staff for their help in deciding. You set aside time to head out, ensuring you researched the different types of beds beforehand. You arrive at the store just a few minutes after they open; you take in the grand scale of it. You next notice how empty it was, considering the many reviews you thought the store would be full. You don’t even see any workers as you walk through. 

Shaking your head, you move through the store and look at all the different bed models. They had various kinds of technology, all meant to aid sleep, or so they claimed. You tested a few beds laying on them to see how they felt. You had decided beforehand you wanted something that was a little firmer, so you focused on those. As you tested another out, you shut your eyes, imagining what it would be like to sleep on it for years. This one was too firm, having very little give. You open your eyes to see the face of a young woman staring back at you. “Hi! Welcome!” She greets you. You jump, shocked that you hadn’t noticed her walk up to you. “Oh, sorry for scaring you. My name is Yuna, and I’ll be your special aid today.” She says with a wide grin. You look the woman over as she fixes her hair. Yuna didn’t look like someone who worked her. She wore a white sleeveless crop top from a nearby university and matching white shorts. Her red hair stood out against her clothing, attracting attention to her face. 

“I saw you lay on a few models. Did any of them interest you further?” Yuna asks, her hand behind her back as she listens to your response.

“Well, there was the smart bed and one over there.” You say, pointing out a mattress that wasn’t too firm or soft. “The second one is what I’m leaning toward. It’s a lot cheaper.”

“That’s true, sir, but the smart bed is much better for your sleep and other activities.” She states. 

You find her comment odd, “Other activities?” It takes you a moment to connect the dots; when you realize what Yuna meant, she nods.

“Yes, sir. I did mean that.” She states, “Now, if you’d like to test them out, please follow me.”

“But I already did.” You’re confused again, not understanding what she means.

“For the…other activities. You need to follow me.” Yuna says, walking ahead of you. She checks to make sure you are following her, smirking as she sees you are. Yuna stops at a door at the end of the building, picking up a mounted phone. “Hello? Yes, we’d like to test out the Genie smart bed and the Dura hard mattress. Okay, thank you.” Yuna hangs up and spins around on her heel. It’ll be just a moment; they have to set everything up. You see the hunger in her eyes as she looks you up and down. She licks her lips and smiles at you. “I’m sure you’ll like the Dura brand, but the smart bed is the way to go. I’m sure your girlfriend would love it.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” You respond, fixing Yuna’s error. “Why do you recommend it so much?”

“It has a lot of nice features; I can show you soon,” Yuna says just as the phone on the wall rings. She picks it up, talks to the other person on the line, and grows her smile as she places the phone back on the hook. “Everything is ready; please come in.” Yuna opens the door; the room is decorated like any regular bedroom, with only one thing standing out: both beds you had been thinking about were set up in the middle. Yuna grabs your hands, taking you to the cheaper bed, placing her hands on your chest, and pushing you onto it. She lifts her shirt, her perky breasts bouncing slightly. “First one of the day,” Yuna whispers to herself as she places a hand on your crotch. You’re taken aback at her advances but willing to go along with it. You wouldn't, couldn’t deny her. She feels your bulge grow larger, her eyes widening for a moment as her lustful smile appears.

She unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down. Yuna giggles as she sees your bulge being held back by your underwear. She bends over, planting a kiss on your cock through your underwear, “You’re so big,” She says with a giggle. Yuna pulls at the hem of your underwear, feigning shock as your cock pops out. You see her shining teeth as she smiles and grasps your cock. She strokes it gently, watching it fully harden in her hand. Yuna kisses the tip of your cock before tracing her lips with your cock.

You grunt her name; her warm lips surround the head, wrapping around it as her tongue moves across it at an agonizing pace. You’re squirming, wanting her to do more. “Relax, baby. I’ll give you what you want in a minute.” She says, her hand pumping your cock as she moves closer to your ear. “Once your cock is in my pussy, you’ll see who I really am.” Yuna’s low, sultry voice sends shivers down your spine. She runs a finger down your chest until she returns to your cock, her lips pressing against it before separating and taking you in. Her tongue runs along the underside of your cock, slowly moving from side to side as she strokes the base of your cock. 

“How are you so good?” You moan out, throwing your head back as she takes more of you into her mouth. Yuna ignores your question for the moment, too focused on your cock to answer. Your hips buck, sending your cock into the back of her throat, surprising Yuna. 

She pulls back, her saliva dripping onto your cock. “Ah, if you wanted more, you could have just said so.” She pushes herself back onto your cock, making it disappear. You feel Yuna’s throat tighten around the head. You fall back onto the bed, lying down as you explode in Yuna’s mouth, sending waves of cum down her throat. Yuna’s cheeks fill with your semen, puffing up as she pulls away. You sit up slowly, watching her as she lowers her jaw to reveal a mouthful of cum. Yuna swallows it, moaning slightly as she revels in the salty taste. 

Yuna takes a step back, undoing the button on her shorts and pulling them down, shivering as the cold air hits her cleanly shaven pussy. “Move back a little.” You follow her orders, centering yourself on the bed. Yuna crawls over you, her modest breasts swaying. She reaches down, grabs your cock, and runs it between her wet folds. Yuna’s soft moans arouse you further, making you want her more. She Presses the head against her entrance, slowly dropping on it. She takes a deep breath, groaning as she feels your cock stretching her. Yuna places one hand on her lower abdomen, feeling your cock make its way through her until it knocks against her womb. “You’re tearing me apart,” She whimpers. “I need a moment.” Yuna focuses on the sensation caused by your cock. 

You sit under her, desperate for more, her tight cunt feeling too good to just sit there. You grab her hips and begin thrusting, surprising Yuna. “I’m sorry, but I need you.” You moan, thrusting into her quickly. Yuna places her hands on your chest, trying not to collapse on top of you as you split her apart. You catch her expression, her furrowed brows and shut eyes showing slight discomfort as you knock against her womb. Yuna’s expression soon softens as the pleasure overcomes her. 

Yuna’s moans echo in the room; her head tilts back. She looks to the ceiling as she feels her climax approaching. “I’m gonna cum.” She mumbles. You were still a little ways away from your climax. You speed up your thrusts, trying to cum with her. Yuna felt your cock piston in and out of her; she felt like a toy being used and was loving it. A delighted smile appears on her face as she cums on your cock, her walls tightening around you as you continue to ruin her. The young woman’s strength gives out, sending her onto your chest as you near your climax. She mumbles something; it’s inaudible initially, but Yuna repeats herself. “Cum- cum in me,” she says. You moan Yuna’s name, repeating it as you impale her and shoot your cum into her pussy.

You feel Yuna’s walls milking you for your cum as you both start to relax. She stretches out her hand, pointing to the other bed. She gulps softly, saying, “We have to try out the other one.” You nod your head, already tired. Running your hands along her back, Yuna shudders as she feels your hands come to a stop on her ass. You sit up, struggling slightly as you move over to the other bed with Yuna still having your cock inside her. She grabs a remote and holds down one of the buttons, causing the back to raise and letting you be in more of a seated position. You found it convenient. Yuna gives you a dreamy smile as she tosses the remote and begins moving. 

You’re seated position puts you much closer to Yuna’s breasts. You notice now her small brown nipples; they move softly as Yuna bounces on your cock. You lean in, dragging your tongue over one slowly, flicking it with your tongue at the end. She gasps, and her body shivers at your tongue's warmth. 

“W- What do you think?” Yuna mumbles as she rides you like her life depended on it, her walls squeezing you as you hit her womb. You can tell Yuna is trying to speak more, but the pleasure she’s receiving is making it difficult. Moans flow out from her as her walls tighten around you again. Yuna could give you no warning as she came. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she reached her second orgasm; her voice was becoming hoarse from her moans.

You get Yuna off you, laying her beside you. The moment you do, she turns to you, “You didn’t cum.” She says softly. “I want to feel your cum.” Yuna’s hand slithers down her body, spreading her lips for you. You stare at her glistening pussy, it makes you hard, and you find yourself unable to resist Yuna’s invitation. She grabs the remote, lowering the bed back to its original position. “There, easier for you.” She says, licking her lips as she imagines you inside her again. “Go on, fuck me.”You align yourself with her cunt and push in quickly, feeling like you’re being sucked in.  Yuna’s moans bounce off the walls, fueling you to start thrusting. You lift her hips off the bed, giving yourself a better position and allowing you to go deeper into Yuna’s cunt. Each thrust creates a bulge that Yuna presses down on, making her walls tighten around you. Her moans grew louder; she was getting more pleasure out of it, too. Neither of you last long, your quick thrust making you both cum again.  You collapse on top of Yuna, feeling parts of the soft mattress. 

You watch her grab the remote, feeling the bed become firmer. “So what do you think? How was the smart bed? Better, right?” Yuna mutters, slowly regaining her composure as time goes by.

“I think you’re right. It is better.”

“I told you.” She replies, a smile on her face.

You and Yuna hammer out the details as you lay beside each other, your cum oozing out of her cunt, and you end up buying the smart bed. You don’t know if Yuna being naked at the end helped her convince you, but you were buying the bed. Yuna felt satisfied with herself. After you had left, she went to the staff room, skipping all the way there while still naked, happy to have made a good piece of commission on the sale. She showed off, annoying the others as they stood there watching cum run down her legs. You write a review for the store, writing about the helpful staff much like the others before you.

[gojossocks]

We can't be friends

Gojo x Reader Summary: You decided to erase Gojo from your memory.

“Who is Gojo Satoru to you?”  

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, before giving the doctor a tight-lipped smile. “W-we were together for 6 years.” 

He’s no one important really, just the love of your life. 

There has been an on-going trend all over the world— technology has upgraded enough that you can erase someone entirely out of your memory, as if they’ve never existed. If they do, it wasn’t like how you knew them. 

You weren’t sure what dragged you in this clinic with all of the most important things that remind you of him. Maybe it was the way he ignored you like the plague, the way the familiarity in his eyes disappeared just earlier last week when he spoke to you so freely like you’ve never been together. It was clear that he got his memory of you erased after that incident. You were just another colleague. Perhaps, the pain in your heart is too much to handle. 

You don’t remember the way to the clinic that much. It was a surprise you even got there in one piece considering you were sobbing the whole way there. So even if you aren’t entirely sure whether you’re ready to let go of Satoru, you signed the consent form anyway. 

If he’s got you erased completely from your life, then what’s the point of living in hell remembering him? You didn’t want to mourn for someone alive and well. 

You never really understood why he left because everything was just working out between the two of you. Satoru provided you with no explanation and packed up his things to leave you behind to your own devices. You almost wanted to back out when you started reminiscing vividly of everything you once shared with him. 

You remembered falling in love with him, how it feels like the first day of spring, how his kisses taste like daylight. How he squeezes your hand three times before you part ways for a mission.  How he holds you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world. How it was always you and him against the world, him making you laugh while you tended to his wounds. He would tell you that everything would be okay because he has you and only you. 

The bad outweighed the good that you had forgotten that loving him and being loved with him is something that you never wanted to forget, even if your relationship with him crashed and burned. You don’t want him to be a stranger you can’t recognize anymore.

But it had already been done and everything faded into nothingness as you try to grasp with whatever you have left of him.

-.- 

You have been working with Gojo for quite some time now, maybe about six years. But you’ve never directly initiated conversations with him outside work. He’s the only one you don’t know much about in Jujutsu High. Today is no different as you’re waiting with him in the clinic for your mutual friend Shoko. 

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have there.” He acknowledges you for the first time since you got there. Even if you’re just a few meters away, he doesn’t talk to you. You find that a little bit weird because everyone tells you that he’s obnoxious and loud. Somehow with you, he’s always quiet. 

You didn’t remember much of how you got the necklace. You figured that the reason why Gojo’s asking about it is because it matches the color of his eyes. There was a hazy memory though— you were crying, telling a doctor to ‘let me keep it, please. Just this one.’ but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was all a dream. 

You responded with a laugh before toying with the pendant of the necklace. “Yeah, It was a gift to me.” 

“Oh?” He looked at you through his glasses, his intense gaze making you feel a little nervous. “Mind telling me who?” 

“I forgot.” You replied,  slowly relaxing in your seat while looking around at Shoko’s clinic. He nodded at you, a small smile adorning his lips and he didn’t say anything more. 

You missed the way his eyes linger on you for a moment before putting back his blindfold on or the apologetic look that Shoko gave him before he leaves. 

“So, who’s Gojo Satoru to you?” 

“He’s the strongest of course.” 

But to him, you’re still his everything—because he didn’t really remove you from his memory. Maybe if he was braver, you’d remember him. 

a/ n: part 2? :0

[from-izzy]

[00:05] | nct mark lee

"You're not behind," it prompts the grip on his forearm to tighten, "but you are tired and you deserve to rest now."

pairing » nct mark lee x gn!reader (fast proofread once - lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » maximum hurt and comfort because i need someone to do this for me AND IT'S EXAM SEASON FOR MEJSDKFJHDF, mwork is a fluffy boyfriend in these angst times, mark holding you tight and telling you that everything is fine, boyfriend mark lee concerned for your wellbeing, mark letting you rest against his chest

word count, estimated reading time » 1707, ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader is stressed with academics, reader hasn't slept in a while, mark implied to be physically bigger and taller

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist🤍 'especially to you...'

HEYYYY HIIII! double update in a month which is very rare for me now 😭 and thanks for beta-ing a long time ago @sohnric !!

i def still love writing but life commitments can get heavy sometimes 🥹 and with that, this one is for everyone who is in exam prep or just having a hard time academically but also just anyone who needs comfort right now! good luck on your studies and commitments everyone! you can do this!! 🫂

with that being said, my first exam is tomorrow and i am tired-

Literally from the side, you hear the door creaking open, the click of its button free from the metal that houses it on its frame. As always, you choose to ignore it even though your heart drops slightly closer to your stomach. You don't dare to tear your eyes away from the document on your screen, choosing to look at the scorching white with your tired, slightly red eyes.

He called out for you but the only thing he's greeted with is your fingers rapidly against your keyboard. Mark is no longer surprised by your dismissive actions, sighing when it seems like the rhythm becomes faster. 

Slowly, he approaches your study area, a folded finger rubbing against his eyes in an attempt to blink the tiredness away even if it's just for a little bit. When he's close enough to see what you're working on, he can't help but feel proud of your progress. The title of the document takes him back to just a few days ago when you were crying to sleep in his arms, telling him about how you have no idea and that you have hit a wall in the upcoming assignment that seems to be due so soon. 

In reality, it isn't due for two more months, but it's the weighting of the assignment that has you pondering if you can really bear the burden of sleeping when forty per cent of your grade depends on this one paper.

But seeing your hair messy with an overused coffee cup not too far away from the edge of the table, he isn't sure if he would just rather see you cry yourself to sleep or see the obvious dark shadows surrounding your eyes. What he does know right now though, is that you should just rest your whole body after depriving yourself of a whole twenty-four hours with no sleep—slightly more than that now actually.

Mark arrives behind you, the front of his oversized shirt hitting the backseat of your study chair. His arms fall onto your shoulders, slowly massaging your tension away.

"Dinner?" He tests the topic first, genuinely not knowing if you have eaten today as he was busy outside the house.

You respond with a hum, "I promise, I had it." The typing didn't cease as you continued to speak to him, "Go back to bed, Markie."

If only you could turn back to see the face he makes at your dismissive answer. "Can't," he answers simply for now. "Not when I know that you’re out here tired and sleepless."

You know that this is his way of pulling you away from the technology that is keeping you up but you decide to stand your ground, "Just a bit more."

"That's what you've been saying the past half day, bubs." 

The specific timeframe is what made your fingers freeze and you tuck all your fingers into your palm except for two, scrolling up towards the start of the document. Reality suddenly sinks into you when it doesn't feel like you scrolled up a lot, but the grey bar on the right side of the screen shows that you reached the top of the document. The wave of exhaustion finally hits and your eyelids suddenly fall instantly. Mark immediately encircles his arms around you, pulling your back to rest against his chest.

It doesn't take him another second to realise that you're silently sobbing in his arms, upper body trembling in shame and disappointment with how time has passed yet no real effort is physically seen to the real world. Mark presses multiple kisses on the top of your head, tightening his hold and whispering words of comfort. 

"Mark..." You decide to bury your eyes into Mark's arms, the salty liquid trickling down the safety of his arms. "It feels like time is mocking me right now..."

You've always felt this way. Indeed, time will never wait for anyone or anything, yet as humans, it's ironic that we always wait for the right time. It's annoying and it's infuriating to see the long hand of the clock easily circle while you just sit still and watch it happen. 

Mark pulls away only slightly, pulling your seated body out from the table so that he can spin you around to physically put your work behind you. He then kneels in front of you, his hands enveloping yours on top of your lap. 

He doesn't say anything at first and doesn't even dare to fully let go of you even when he wipes your tears away from your cheeks. Mark just offers you a smile with the crease between his eyebrows evident, letting you cry out your feelings a little bit more.

"You're doing so well," he affirms his thoughts out loud. "You don't give yourself enough credit for that, so I'm here to remind you every time."

And he does. 

Mark Lee has always been great at that even when you were both still friends. You were worried that he only did it when you were both still in the flirting stages too, but four years with Mark Lee and he still says the words sincerely and truthfully. In your darkest times, that's all that you need.

Your legs push your bottoms to the edge of the seat and you practically slump into Mark's embrace as you push the seat rolling away behind you. Your arms swing around Mark's neck for stability, hiding your cries in the crook of his neck. 

"I'm tired, Mark..." suddenly the ground felt wobbly, your knees giving out to keep your posture somewhat upright in his hold, “and I feel so dumb.”

Mark quickly refutes with a series of firm shaking of his head, craning his neck just slightly enough to kiss the trail that your tears leave on the apple of your cheeks. You whimper against the touch of his lips and you hate that you’re worrying the person who has proven to you over and over again that he loves you to the moon and back. His black hair fell over his eyes but it’s not hidden enough for you to miss the reassuring glimpse that his orbs gazed you with. 

"Your past achievements prove you otherwise as well and I promise you that you’re not.”

And he really means that. 

Your tiredness is physically shown further by the way you slump over his figure on the floor. Your knee isn't even supporting you on the ground anymore, slipping you further away from him as the fabric of your longer pants helps you slide on the polished floor to bring you closer to your boyfriend.

Mark supports your weight against his, untucking his legs from under him and spreading them beside your figure. Slowly and gently, he turns you around and sits you properly on the squared patterns. Similar to before, he makes you rest your head against where his heart beats calmly while he leans backwards slightly so that you're more comfortable in his arms around your middle. Your fingers stiffly grip his forearm, mind still clouded by the next paragraph of your work and Mark picks this up. 

His eyes drift up to the black font against the white electronic paper. "Tell me the next one." Referring to the idea of your work. 

He does this often, repeating the main ideas of your work so that he can store them inside his long-term memory. This way, he can tell it to you tomorrow. His love transcends forgetfulness, his mind jotting down all the main points so that you don't have to go back to doing work without sleep inside your system any longer. Mark gently sways his upper body and the weight of your eyelids becomes more apparent from the hum he lets out. 

"But I just don't think I deserve to rest." It feels like the world is too active for you to do so. "I feel like I'm behind all the time."

"You're not behind," it prompts the grip on his forearm to tighten, "but you are tired and you deserve to rest now."

That's all the validation you need. You just needed to hear someone say, with a mellow voice and the beating of their heart that contrasts your erratic ones, that it's alright for you to rest, even if it's for a while. The affirmation that you're doing well is gratefully received, but you just needed someone to tell you that your eyelids can fall for the next few hours on a well-deserved mattress, in a safe place.

Next, your voice box finally releases the tension to the air and Mark Lee alternates between kisses to the side of your face and whispers to the shell of your ear all the words that would make the tension around your body fade.

That's the thing about Mark Lee. He would let you cry it out audibly, not like the ones you would bury your entire face to your pillow, suffocating and gasping for air as you tried to keep the weight on your shoulders to yourself when you were still living alone.

The tears from your eyes are valid and so did the sobs that did the same from your lips. The world blurs due to the remnants of some of the stubborn ones that didn't drop to your tear-stricken cheeks—but it's fine because Mark would always turn his head to you, the side of his fingers brushing on your lower lid, careful to not hurt the orbs that he finds love and security in.

Mark still holds you close throughout the whole time, eventually seeing how your chest gradually decreases its frequency in taking deep breaths. 

Exhausted and spent, you managed to whisper, "Thanks, Mark." It's croaked and easy to miss if it wasn't for the proximity that you're both sharing.

"Always." His palm rests on your jawline and he softly turns your head, your ear now on his chest. Mark lands a quick peck on your now slightly upturned lips, "I love you."

"I love you more."

Sleeping is easier for him now that the other side of the mattress is occupied and that he can feel your warmth directly on his skin in a well-deserved resting position.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @haneul-and-clouds

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Don't Fight It

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, gun violence, murder, fluff

Request by @jessicalynnann: Dean standing by a window and he is a multi millionaire mob boss… any ways. Standing by the window with a glass of whiskey waiting for the reader who he keeps denying his feelings for…. Any ways her best friend calls says that someone is bothering the reader and won’t leave them alone. Well he rushes down and saves the reader after he finds her in the alley almost being attacked and then he confesses everything 😂☺️

Summary: You work for not only a successful businessman but also a man who does less than legal things in his spare time. He hopes to never have to bring you into that side of his life but when your ex makes an appearance, he has no choice but to use his deadly skills to get you out of trouble alive.

Square Filled: “it’s not an addiction. it’s a coping mechanism.” (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Never in your professional career have you ever been late except for today. Your car didn’t want to start this morning so you had to jumpstart it using a portable charger you had lying around from the last time your brother was staying with you. He claims he forgot it but you know he left it there intentionally. He’s always looking out for you whether you want him to or not.

You walk into work clutching your purse and water cup to your chest as you make your way to your desk. Due to the darkness coming from underneath your boss’ door, you assume he’s not in right now. Thank God. You don’t have to confront him after being late. You quickly get settled in and immediately pull up your emails to see what kind of day you’re going to have today.

As the personal assistant to the CEO of Winchester Industries, you always have a lot on your plate. There is seldom any time for yourself at work which is a good thing because that means the day goes by faster. You admire Dean for what he does and the impact he has made not only on the town you live in but in towns across America. He is involved with environmental technologies, medical devices, and the telecommunications sector. He cares so much about the environment that he develops equipment that helps farmers, medical devices mostly for animals, and strengthens the telecommunication sector across America.

He had an idea one day and decided to do something about it instead of waiting for someone else to do it. Now, he’s one of the richest men in the country because of it.

Speaking of the devil, when Dean walks out of the elevator, you’re already halfway through your emails.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he drawls.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“Hey, did you happen to get the contracts for--”

“Already on your desk.”

“What about the proposal for--”

“Already done, waiting for your seal of approval. I also have reached out to Phoenix Zoo and set up a Zoom meeting at ten since their medical equipment broke for their gorilla.”

Dean leans against your desk with a sexy smirk on his face. What you wouldn’t give to see that smirk behind closed doors. If you put aside the fact that you’re his personal assistant, there is one reason why you shouldn’t fall for a man like Dean Winchester. He’s a successful CEO but you know he’s involved with shady shit on the side. You’re not sure what his deal is but you know it isn’t legal. You turn a blind eye to the many times he’s come into work with bloodstains on his stark white shirt.

Maybe you should run. Any sane, logical person would but you’ve never been the one to listen to that side of you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Cry, maybe. This business would crumble without me.”

“Don’t I know it,” he chuckles.

“So, I have two interviews coming in today, both for the marketing department, Dalton Martinez wants to schedule a meeting with you, and--”

“How about this,” he cuts you off, “you take care of the interviews today and I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Okay.”

He walks into his office and you can’t help but watch him leave. He’s such a good-looking man that it’s hard not to fall for his charm. You tried asking what he does in his free time when you saw his bloody shirt for the first time but he refused to talk about it. You haven’t asked him about it since even though you want to.

The two interviews come and go and now you’re stuck at your desk replying to emails, drafting up contracts for Dean, and planning his next work trip. Right when the clock strikes twelve, Dean comes out of his office without his jacket on. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and you vermouth waters at the sight of his white shirt stretching across his broad chest.

“Hey, are you busy for lunch?”

“No.”

“Want to have lunch with me? I’ll be stuck in this office all day.”

“Sure,” you smile. You log out of your computer and grab your lunch bag from the fridge you have underneath your desk. You pass by one of the other ladies on the floor and she tsks when you approach her desk. “What?”

“Be careful not to get involved with him.”

“I’m not. It’s just lunch.”

You walk into Dean’s office who is standing by this floor-length windows with a glass of whiskey in hand.

“Don’t tell me that glass is your lunch.”

“No.” He walks over to his desk, reaches into the mini-fridge, and pulls out a meatball sandwich he made before coming to work. “So, tell me about your day.”

You eye the glass of whiskey on his desk. “Maybe we should talk about your day. Addiction can ruin someone’s life.”

“It’s not an addiction. It’s a coping mechanism.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather talk about you. Any plans this weekend?”

“I might need something stronger than water if I’m going to talk about that,” you chuckle.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

You get up and pour yourself a strong drink before downing it in one go. That will be a mistake later but you don’t care. You pour yourself another glass before sitting back down across from him.

“Let me know if this is unprofessional but I haven’t had a date in two years. In the last relationship I was in, he tried to have me killed. I come from very old money but I like to work hard for what I have instead of using what my family gives me every week.”

“I understand,” Dean nods, leaning back in his chair as he listens intently.

“When my ex-boyfriend found out about my money, he wanted it. He wanted to be rich and powerful, but I realized that all he ever wanted from me was money. I was done giving it to him so I broke things off which is when he tried to kill me. I tried to move on but he’s always there to ruin things for me. I kind of gave up on romance and having friends. So, the answer to your question is no, I don’t have any plans this weekend. He won’t let me.”

“What’s his name?”

“Like I’m going to tell you that,” you scoff. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re into some shady shit. I might not know what you do in your free time but I know it’s not legal.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle him, but it’d be really nice if I could just wake up one day and feel free.”

Dean leans forward and rubs his hands together. All he can think about is your life in danger and the mere thought sends him into a rage.

“Listen to me. I want you to call me any time of the day and I will help you if you need it.” You nod. “I need you to promise me.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Cherry is my safe word.”

You immediately choke on your water and almost spit it out on the ground. You cough as you try to regain your composure while Dean watches with an amused look.

“Excuse me?” you cough.

“When someone I know is in danger, they tell me cherry and I know to drop everything for them. That includes you, too.”

“I don’t think I’ll need it,” you clear your throat, “but I promise to use it if I do.”

The rest of the day goes by smoothly and without issue. Dean has been working hard to get everything done before his work trip to Europe, and you’re working hard to make sure he has everything he needs. He asked you to come but you haven’t given him an answer yet. A whole trip with Dean by yourself? That’s a mistake waiting to happen but it would be nice to go to Europe for a week.

Every day for the remainder of the week, you and Dean have lunch in his office and talk about anything and everything. If you didn’t know him as your boss, you two would have made such great friends… maybe something more. He’s leaving for Europe on Monday so you have at least three days to give him an answer on if you’re going or not. Everything will be paid for so all you have to do is show up at the airport at four in the morning if you want to go.

Maybe…

Friday comes around and you’re staying a bit later than normal to finalize everything he needs for his trip. It’s past eight when you finally get done and you shut your computer down for the weekend. Dean is still in his office when you leave, and you head to the carport where your car is. You’re looking at your phone and not paying attention when someone steps in your way. You stop feeling a set of eyes on you and you look up to see your ex-boyfriend at the entrance of the carport.

“Hey, Y/N, long time no see,” he grins.

You immediately turn and head back to work when you see two of his friends blocking that way. The only way you’re going to get out of this is to use the alleyway next to the building. If you can cut through it, you’ll be on the other side of the carport where your car is. You might be able to make it if you’re quick. Elijah must know what you’re going to do because he starts walking over to you. You jump into action and sprint into the alley with your phone clutched in your hand.

Cherry! Cherry! CHERRY!

You almost run into Elijah because you’re texting Dean, and you nearly fall on your ass while stumbling away from him.

“Why are you running from me? I just want to talk.”

You look behind you and see his two friends right blocking the only other way out of the alley. You turn back to Elijah and notice something black glinting in his hands. He has a gun. Your heart starts to race but you force yourself to keep a clear head.

“What do you want, Elijah? I made myself clear the last time I saw you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Please leave.”

“I will when you give what you owe me.”

“What I owe you?”

“You know the trouble you caused the day you left me? You know me pretty well so you know I don’t tolerate bratty behavior. I think two million dollars will make me forget how you left me. Right, boys?”

One of his friends steps to your back and you freeze in fear when you feel his hot breath on your neck.

“Look at her, Eli, she looks like she’s about to cry,” he grins.

“She’s always been a crybaby.”

“I don’t have what you’re asking. Just leave me alone.” His friend grabs your hand and yanks your head back. “You son of a bitch!”

“Give me what I want and I’ll get out of your hair,” Elijah says and steps closer to you.

“Until you need your next fix, huh? Bite me,” you growl.

His friend lets your hair go and steps back to allow Elijah to deal with you.

“Leave her alone.”

All four of you look at the entrance of the alley to see Dean standing there with a deadly look on his face. He came. He got your message and he’s here. You’re scared that Elijah is going to hurt him even though Dean doesn’t seem the type to be scared of a gun.

“Beat it, old man,” Elijah growls.

“I don’t think you heard me,” Dean chuckles. “Get. Away. From. Her.”

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Elijah waves his gun around and you stiffen in fear. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with so just leave before you get put into a body bag.”

“It’s you who will leave in a body bag. Not me.”

Dean takes out a gun from his suit jacket and points it at Elijah. Your ex panics and jumps behind you to use you as a shield, and he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your head.

“Yeah? What about now?”

“Dean,” you whimper in fear.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m very good at what I do.”

“Get back! I’ll shoot her!” Elijah yells. “She’ll be dead and it’ll be because of you!”

Dean aims his gun at Elijah and pulls the trigger. The shot causes both of his friends to scatter knowing you’re not worth the trouble. Blood sprays on your neck just as you scream in terror. Elijah’s grip on you loosens and he falls back onto the ground. You’re about to fall yourself but Dean is quick to catch you. You’re shaking like a leaf in his arms, and he uses the sleeves of his white shirt to wipe the blood off your neck.

“You’re safe, sweetheart.” You look around frantically, having not heard him. “You’re in shock right now but you’re safe. I didn’t shoot you.”

“What?” you ask and finally look at him.

“I didn't shoot you. You’re safe. He will never bother you again.” You try to look at your ex on the ground behind you but Dean grabs the sides of your face to stop you from doing so. “I told you, I’m very good at my job.” You put your head on his chest and cry, and he smooths down your hair. “Do you live alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Not tonight, you won’t. You’ll stay with me.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Thank you,” you say as Dean is bringing you back to his office.

“You don’t ever have to thank me. I will always be here if you need me.”

Yeah, falling for him is inevitable. It’s going to happen whether you want it to or not so may as well run with it instead of fight it.

x

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[eternalwritess]

I may know someone - Platonic!Alastor & tech demon!reader + Vox x tech demon!reader

Summary: Vox is holding a grudge against the hotel and refuses to air the commercial that they created. But Alastor has someone in mind who might just be able to help...

"I always knew Vox was petty," Alastor hummed picking at his nails. He wasn't pleased to say the least. Not about the commercial of course, if it was possible for him to care less about it then he would. But rather with Vaggie at his door demanding that he do something about it, along with Charlie's pleading eyes trying to calm Vaggie so she could try and convince Alastor.

Quite honestly he didn't know what they thought he could do. He was injured for crying out loud. His wound from Adam still hurt like a truck and not to mention that he and Vaggie made a deal so he wouldn't have to deal with the picture box anymore.

"Please Al, I won't ask anything else of you!" Charlie begged bouncing on the tips of her feet whilst still attempting to hold Vaggie back, although with their wings it was getting harder as she would flap them out constantly.

"You shouldn't lie dear, isn't that an unholy quality?" He asked with some hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Alastor just try and fix it alright, we built this whole hotel and-" Alastor cut Vaggie off with an influx of static.

"Didn't we make a deal about this my dear?"

Vaggie paused for a moment before sighing and walking away leaving Charlie.

"Please, Alastor," She paused for a moment looking at him. "We really need this right now alright? Besides just think about it, more sinners means more entertainment for you if thats what you want," She said slowly walking over into him room before stopping once he glanced at her.

"Besides just think of all the fun you would have watching me uh," She paused thinking for a moment. "Struggle to rehabilitate sinners!" She added throwing up her arms in the air as a punctuation to her sentence.

Alastor sighed and met her eyes. "I really can't do anything dear, I only control the radio and besides, I doubt that rabble box will even listen to me. I don't know how to work this," he made a wild gesture with his hand. "Frivolous new technology works,"

His smile grew tight with disgust. "Its not worth the trouble anyways," he huffed and looked over to the side.

Charlie sighed and glanced away. "Fine, thats reasonable I guess," She groaned and smoothed down her wrinkled hair and began walking out the door.

"I wonder if dad would help me with this," she muttered as she walked along. Now that was something Alastor just couldn't have. He grit his teeth and tapped his staff onto the ground disappearing into shadow and reappearing in front of Charlie.

"Now now dear I didn't say I wouldn't help you-"

"You basically did though-"

Alastor put his finger in front of her mouth shushing her. "It is rude to interrupt don't you know?" He took his hand back and set it on his staff.

"I do know someone who might be able to help in our little endeavor. Rosie adores her quite so and I think that she might just be interested in this. Besides she is an old friend of mine," He explained bending down and smiling even wider.

It's been a while since he's seen you. He'd like to visit you after all and this would stick it to Lucifer and Vox. He's winning on all three sides of the coin.

"Well then! Can I meet her?"

"Patience Charlotte, come, come now. The place where she lives is quite dangerous indeed. It would be a shame for you to be harmed there,"

He hummed and walked her out the hotel. "You'll need to stay by me at all times. Do you understand?"

She nodded and Alastor nodded with her. "Good girl,"

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You spun around in your chair. This was the fifth time today. If anyone else came into your office proclaiming they they needed your help you were gonna flip.

You weren't an overlord. But damn did you manage this side of the pentagram. A space so fucked that not even the strongest overlord would set their sights here. Too much work for not enough profit you would say. Honestly? You would agree if you weren't somewhat attached to this rancid place.

Knock knock.

You gripped your desk and groaned mentally, bracing yourself for whoever was at the door next.

"I swear to god Susan call me again for your fucking cat and I will shove it's claws up your-" You opened the door with a shout and stopped upon seeing a familiar red color scheme.

"Alastor- holy shit!" You laughed and stepped back. "Sorry for the shouting, its been a..." You trailed off and sighed shaking your head. "Rather stressful day," You snapped your fingers electricity from them instantly snapping on the lights to emit a warm glow from them.

Behind him was someone with blonde hair and red eyes and a red suit. God was there a lot of red going on here. "Who's this?" you asked gesturing over to her. "Looks nice, didn't know she was your type," You laughed before shaking your head not allowing Alastor to react.

"I'm kidding, I know you've got an ace up there," you laughed tugging at his sleeve before letting it go.

Alastor paused for a moment. "What?"

You moved on giggling. "Come on introduce her, Rosie would have your head for behavior like this," you laughed and grabbed the girl's hand.

"This is Charlotte Morningstar! Princess of hell and owner of the delusional establishment known as the Hazbin Hotel!" He said patting 'Charlotte's' head.

"You can call me Charlie," She quickly corrected. You nodded and bent down bowing down to her and raising her hand slightly above your head.

"Pleasure to meet you your highness, what can I do for you today. After all I doubt you come here on pleasantries," you gestured outside to where a few demons were about to have either an orgy or a torture scene. You pulled them in further shutting the door and closing the windows.

"Well you see I've been having a bit of trouble lately. Well see this man, Vox, refuses to air the commercial I made for my hotel. So I was wondering if you could possibly do something about it," She offered. She smiled warmly and you looked over to Alastor.

"Vox isn't really..." You sighed and rubbed your forehead. "Do you want me to talk with him? Cause I don't know him besides that fact that his tech is nothing more than flashy shit," you explained.

"No, no, no, no, well I mean... I just want my commercial aired, I can pay you if you'd like," She offered.

You paused and shook your head glancing over to Alastor. "What do you think that I can do?" you asked tilting your head over to him. Of course he would bring her to you, what else were you expecting.

"Well you can infiltrate Vox and his filthy lair! Get the commercial up and running!" He said with a swing of his arm.

You groaned and sat down in your chair. "Really? And how do you suppose I'm even gonna get close enough to do such a thing?"

"Why my dear you'll only have to do a flick of a wrist, I doubt that Vox knows he's not the only one with powers like yours," he said and gestured over to you grandly, as if introducing you all over again.

With a sigh you looked over to Charlie. Money didn't really mean shit here, besides you knew better than to say no to Alastor. Friends be damned, if he wanted something you had to give it to him unless you had a good reason which, you really didn't. Other than you just didn't want to of course.

"Alright then, I don't need to get paid though, just puts a target on my back-"

"Alrighty then!" Alastor was cut off by you.

"But, you're getting me over there. Got it smiles?" You asked looking over to him. His grin grew tight and you felt your grow at that.

"Of course, it would be unkindly of me if not,"

Charlie squealed and grabbed your hand pulling you up and giving you a hug. "Thank you! Thank you ! Thank you! Thank you so much! I will not forget this, I swear!" She was bouncing up and down as you laughed and slowly pushed her away.

"Alright, don't get too happy about it. I still don't know if I can do it,"

"Don't worry, if any demon in this wretched realm can do it its you," Alastor said giving you a half pat on the head before you swiped his hand away.

"Alright then, so when do you want me to do this?" You asked.

"Oh take your time-"

"Now would be preferred. Here I'll even lead you," Alastor said grabbing you and pulling you in by the hook of your arm. You stumbled over and glared at him playfully a grin forming across your lips as you gaining your footing.

"What about the princess?" You pointed over to Charlie who was bouncing on her feet excitedly.

"Oh we can stop by the hotel on our way over, don't worry y/n,"

You laughed and looked over to Charlie. "Oh my god, I didn't tell you my name!" You laughed and stuck your hand out once more. "Y/n,"

She shook your hand and smiled. "Don't worry about it, besides I'm sure Al would've told me it,"

You nodded and turned over to Alastor. "Alright then, lead the way,"

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

To call the hotel a giant eyesore might be an understatement. It was clear that Alastor didn't design the thing whether that be for good or for worse. It's lights basically dissected your eyes into thousands of tiny little pieces.

God was it bright.

"So the V's are what they're called then?" You asked brushing off tiny specks of dust on your shoulder. You just had a conversation with someone named Angel and god did it feel wrong.

"Yes! They're quite incompetent though, nothing you need to worry about," He said patting your head once more. You groaned mentally at the gesture and watched as he spun his microphone around.

"Really? Aren't they overlords?" You questioned further adn watched how Alastor's grin grew tight at the mention.

"Yes but they're awfully pathetic and act like children. Throwing temper tantrums here and there," he paused for a moment before shutting his eyes and flitting them to you. "Actually you'd be more of a competent overlord than them-"

You held up a hand. "No, no, we've been over this. I'm not an overlord. I don't have nearly enough power-"

"I could help with that," He smiled and you watched the green and red glow light up from behind him.

"Uh huh, so you could put me on a leash? Yeah, no thanks," You rolled your eyes at the offer and watched as he laughed it off with you.

"No no, just as a friendly gesture. Of course a favor wouldn't be too bad I suppose,"

You laughed once more. "A favor? from me? I'm sorry but being gone for seven damn years must've screwed with your head. I can't do anything,"

You both stopped in front of a large building. At least in the alleyway of a shop in front of it. You noticed how Alastor avoided the cameras, he must've done this thousands of times.

"Aren't you doing this?" Alastor gestures over to the building.

Three V's hung at the very top of a very colorful building and- you take it back this is worse than the hotel. You winced at the colors and looked over to Alastor. "I might change my mind,"

You watched as he laughed for a short amount of time before returning to you. "Well then we better hurry up I suppose my dear," He snapped his fingers and you watched the cameras glitch for a second. "We'll only have a moment now," He said and he walked out with you and into a backroom of the building and- god the inside might just be worse.

Thousands of LEDs strung up around the hall with tons of flashing lights. Stuff to draw one's attention. You just wanted to get out. You followed Alastor around before he stopped. "You know the way from here?" He asked.

You paused and looked at him. "Please tell me you didn't-"

"I haven't been here before. I've never had a reason to before now," He said and tapped his staff onto the ground leaning on it for support. His ears bent slightly back in frustration.

You glanced at the cameras and sighed for a moment before looking back at him. "A minute please," you hummed and flicked a small bit of electricity over before tapping a device on your wrist generating a hologram. You watched as it flickered between the different places before stopping on one.

"Got it, we need to be in the room though and uh," You pointed to the hologram showing someone in the room. Alastor squinted and sighed.

"He was always obsessed," he groaned and looked over to you. "Get over there I'll lead him out and- don't get caught. Got it?" His gaze hardly even looked at you but you nodded anyways.

"Sir yes sir," You laughed and ran over towards where it would be. Having access to the cameras made it easier now you'd have to admit. You watched as people passed by and when you rarely messed up you knew where to go next. Then you reached the room. A room full of tv's and god- this was creepier in person.

You walked over looking down at the ledge of which the room seemed to drop forever. Yikes, you wouldn't wanna fall down there. You looked at the cameras seeing the guy from before shout at Alastor who was breaking a ton of stuff with a look on his face that said he was having way too much fun with this.

You looked over at the tv's and smiled flicking of bit of the electricity into the tv's and watching as it squirmed through. That should do it. You watched as it slowly ran through the computers and it flicked through everything. The channels, commercials, and god you're not looking at that one, until you found it. The commercial. With a grin you clicked approve and watched as it slowly became permanent with the humming from the computers agreeing with your own.

"That should do it," you muttered and looked back at the cameras and-

shit.

He's almost here.

You hissed to yourself cursing that you weren't more careful. Goddammit, you need an out, and now. You looked around the room and facepalmed mentally. This was horrible. The only thing you could hope to do it wait by the door and hope that he didn't see you.

You ran over and slid by the door covering your mouth. This was gonna suck. You balled your fists ready to get into a fight, you knew how to fight, you lived in the worst part of the fucking pentagram. You knew all the moves, you knew how to fight dirty. You raced through your head trying to gather your thoughts but none came. Your knees became weak. This was a real overlord. Alastor was a real overlord, shit what were you thinking.

You could hear the footsteps get closer and closer. Each step felt like hell to bare.

You can't remember how to fight, you readjust your hands trying to remember how to not break your thumb. The door handle turns and you almost lose it. You almost bolt down into the abyss. Hell it might be a better death than fucking with some flashy guy's tech.

Crash

"Dammit Alastor!" You hear the reverberate of a tv penetrate your ear. God it hurts, the footsteps retreat and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You let your hand fall to your side not letting yourself gain the time to process what just happened. Once the noise was gone you checked the cameras.

Nothing.

You opened the door and bolted it checking the cameras constantly until you were out of the wretched building. You panted heavily catching your breath as you leaned into the alleyway you and Alastor were at before. There was a fight, you could hear it. The shouting, the screaming. God were you glad you had Alastor. You covered your mouth and watched as everything slowly died down and a shadow slithered up to you.

You moved your feet back and watched as Alastor reformed in front of you. "Sorry for that one darling, I hope he didn't get too close," he said and pulled you in for a half side hug before letting you go.

"No, not... not at all," you muttered and watched as Alastor paused for a moment.

"Well he didn't see you did he?"

You looked up and paled at the thought. "Hell no! I... I hope not," you admitted slowly. "There's- there's no way," you said firmly once more and looked at Alastor who nodded.

"Understood, come along then we have work to do,"

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

Vox slammed the door into the control room. His suit was tattered and who the fuck did Alastor think he was was starting trouble on his territory. He groaned and watched as his tech lit up with almost a new color. He paused for a moment and walked forward watching as it glowed brighter than anything he's ever seen before dulling and disappearing into the darkness.

Weird.

He touched his keyboard and felt the energy spark him and it hurt. It. Hurt. He made a small face before touching it again and it hummed in response before finally fading out. Electricity wasn't supposed to hurt him. So what the hell was that? He paused and watched as it returned to its normal state and sighed before seeing something playing on the screen.

The commercial. The fucking Hazbin Hotel bullshit was playing on his screens. He slammed his hand down and began trying to fix it only to find it kicking him out. What the hell? He tried again only to be met with the same fate not only that but a message appearing on the screen.

You cannot access this. Please try something else.

He shouted in frustration. "What the fuck is happening!?" He swiped over the screens and found something.

Footage.

Footage of what the hell happened.

Next? --->

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[haggishlyhagging]

When I started looking at feminist efforts at the end of the nineteenth century, I knew that women had been involved in work against prostitution because there has been some feminist historical work on the Contagious Diseases Acts. What astonished me about these feminists was that the language they were using was so fiercely feminist. They described men's use of women in prostitution as an abuse of women, as dividing what they called the class of women, and putting aside one half of that class simply for men to use for their own purposes. I was surprised by the strength of the language that was used and the way in which these writers were very directly pointing out men's abuse of women in prostitution, and targeting men directly in everything they said.

I went on to discover something I had no knowledge of and about which there was virtually no information in secondary sources: there was a fifty-year campaign by those women against the sexual abuse of children. This started out of the struggle against prostitution, and it centered at first on raising the age of consent for girls so that young girls could not be used in prostitution. There wasn't a law against men using women in prostitution, but age of consent laws would have removed young girls from men's reach. That campaign culminated in the raising of the age of consent for sexual intercourse in Britain to 16 in 1885, and for indecent assault to 16 in 1922. It took fifty years.

Feminists were not simply trying to raise the age of consent. They were fighting incest, pointing out that incest was a crime of the patriarchal family, of men against women, and that sexual abuse of children was a crime carried out by men of all classes. They were fighting for women jurors, magistrates, women police to look after victims, fighting for all kinds of reforms that I thought had been invented by this wave of feminism. They were involved in setting up shelters for women escaping prostitution, something that is happening again in this wave of feminism.

I was enormously impressed by these feminists. In fact, I sat in the Fawcett Library in London getting terribly excited and wanting to tell everybody what I was finding out. Feminist theorists like Elisabeth Wolstenholme Elmy and Frances Swiney were writing at this time about sexuality. We haven't had access to their work because it hasn't been taken seriously. Where they are written about at all in history books, they are simply called prudes and puritans and their ideas are seen as retrogressive. What these women were arguing was that the sexual subordination of women—men's appropriation of women's bodies for their use—lay at the foundation of the oppression of women.

Interestingly, these two women, Swiney and Elmy, made clear their opposition to the practice of sexual intercourse. This practice has become so sacred that it is almost impossible to imagine any serious challenge being made to it. What we have seen in the last hundred years is the total and compulsory enforcement of that sexual practice upon women so that women are allowed absolutely no outlet or escape from it.

But at the end of the nineteenth century there were feminists who were prepared to challenge intercourse. They were prepared to say, for instance, that it was dangerous for women's health; that it led to unwanted pregnancies or forced women to use forms of technology, contraception, that reduced them simply to objects for men's use; that it humiliated women and made them into things. Feminists pointed out that sexual diseases transmitted through sexual intercourse were dangerous to women's lives. They felt sexual intercourse to be a humiliating practice because it showed men's dominance more obviously than anything else. They believed that this practice should take place only for the purposes of reproduction, maybe every three or four years. I know these are ideas which if you voiced them today would make people think that you had taken leave of your senses. But these were ideas that were absolutely mainstream; they were being put forward by respectably married women, one married to a general.

These women were campaigning fundamentally for a woman's right to control her own body and to control access to her own body. The integrity of a woman's own body was the basic plank of their campaign.

-Sheila Jeffreys, “Sexology and Antifeminism” in The Sexual Liberals and the Attack on Feminism

[simp-ly-writes]

Suits, Ties, and Thus Spy's (pt.2)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: The boys get suited up and training begins but as fate would have it, Whitby is keen on keeping your attention or rather making you gain more grey hairs as a mission goes south. Now having to take the task force out of training early, you can only help that under your guidance- they all make it back out alive.

Warnings: light swearing and teasing. A/N: hope you guys enjoy this next part! Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Your design team and weapons master come through the door moments later, each coming up to press a kiss against your cheek in greeting as you do your best to not go pink with the jealous displays your team is already portraying to the new recruits. Pulling Head Tailor Jason down by his tie, you hiss in his ear, “do NOT mess this up for me, please” you add sweetly at the end before letting him go and displaying your smile once more for the crowd. 

A series of assistants soon come from the secret back entrance, large on-wheel displays of shoes, watches and premade suits waiting to be tailored sit in wait as Jason nods twice, shuffling his tie from your outburst as he clears his throat, all eyes moving to cast upon his next words. “Afternoon recruits. I am the head tailor, Mr. Jason Carlisle. My associate Doctor Charlotte Derby who serves as our weapons master alongside my assistants Thomas and Evan will be serving you today.”

“And with that!” you start to say just as Jason raises an eyebrow, a missed call from Whitby being pinged to your phone takes your priority, “I will have to make my departure early for today, apologies- truly but you are in good hands I assure you. Laswell I expect a report in my inbox by the end of the day, thank you all.” Removing your fake earrings for your communications headset left in your briefcase set upon the desk. You shake each task force members hand with a firm grip before kissing Kate's cheek goodbye as you race back to your desk. 

--

Johnny leans towards Kyle who watches you leave, leather shoes ticking against the marble floors as the elevator chimes and you are out of sight. “Where do you think they are headed?” Kyle merely shrugs in response, curious as well but holds any further thoughts as Mr. Carlisle has them all stand in a row as his assistants measure their proportions, check their eye colours and hold up various fabrics for them to feel. 

Their hands work like a well oil machine as Jason camly states orders while moving up and down the line, not looking a singular man in the eye as he pinpoints miniscule details and chooses accessories best suited for the upcoming training season with the new gear. 

Coming to stand in front of “Ghost” as Jason had been told in the notes, he had a special request to keep some form of mask. “Ghost is it?” Jason asks, eyeing the man's response- only to receive a singular nod. “About the mask dear, we have many options some more subtle than others but your comfort in the field is my sole priority under this position.” Jason snaps his fingers as Thomas comes running up, a box in hand that houses various forms of technology sat in velvet. “We can graft a digital face to cover your own, no one would be able to see your true identity unless you allowed them to or… if you like the…” his hand waves over the skull and bones patterns found throughout the man's combat attire. “Agent of death composition, we can keep the balaclava but place a more matte design for on-field missions. Now I must state that the second option might limit your position and the missions you will be assigned to but that is up to you to decide, sir.”

Ghost looks towards John who is begging man-handled by Evan at the end of the line, various fabrics thrown over his shoulder as they complain about accentuating his features the right amount. Kyle is tensing beyond relief as the Doctor shows the various weapons hidden throughout his attire, shivering in realization of how he almost impaled himself when a knife appeared from his wrist watch. Johnny was bright eyed, practically jumping around in his new suit, punching a mannequin in the corner- amazed how the design allowed him flexibility while being bulletproof. “I’m keeping the mask,” Simon states in a monotone towards the Tailor. Jason claps his hands together, murmuring a “good choice, sir,” before dressing him in a black suit with silver detailings. 

Taking a step back, hours had passed before Jason was happy with each man's look as Laswell with a thoughtful smile across her features, hands drifting over the fabric of her own suit as she went through a similar experience all those years ago. Doctor Charlotte Derby addressed the room after receiving confirmation from the tailor and the group followed her out towards the training rooms. White marble soon transitioned to modern soundproof walls and black rubber floors that housed various maps upon them. 

Walking past gym after gym, the boys were aghast to seeing the brutal training happening in each room- it looked like torture. From rehearsed waterboarding survival classes, crafting found-object masks to survive gas filled rooms or water-filled ones. It was nightmarish at times yet each agent held a proper smile of confidence as they navigated through each issue. 

'`Will we be attempting the same, Doctor?’ John asks, trying to hide his slight concern for his task force as he looks towards Laswell for guidance. She offers him only a blank face, her own memories resurfacing. Even though she never had to go through the training, she bore witness to you going though each trial in order to gain the title you hold today. Kate remembers your screams, your broken-noses and blue-skin. But she would trust you more than anyone she ever would know to save her no matter the situation. 

Charlotte looks back over her shoulder, only shrugging as she continues to walk and swipes her card to reveal you, still taking through your headset as you worked your way through three junior agents, burning them to the floor in seconds as they tapped for air. Wiping your forehead with some nearby towels, you smile towards the group just as Whitby whines for your attention to his mission once more. 

“Whitby darling, I know you enjoy hearing my voice whispering in your ear but I am not your handler for this mission… yes, yes-I understand mr. But-nothing. Alright Whitby, I am hanging up now, kisses! Yes I am, grow a pair-” you end up growling at the end before ripping your headset off and standing beside the Doctor. 

“You really have to reel that man of yours back in,” Charlotte states while looking over her nails, throwing a water bottle towards the rookies still catching their breaths on the mats as she hands you your gun back. Casting her a tight smile, “a conversation to be held later, apologies again,” you address the group, “I have a few agents out on the field currently that need my attention every now and then, you all will understand in time,” you charismatically chuckle after before stripping off your suit jacket, laying it flat across a steel table as you roll your sleeves up to your elbows. 

The task force seemingly in a daze for your slight change in appearance has Charlotte clearing her throat and rolling her eyes, “you better not start those eyes,” she begins while pressing a pair of safely glasses to her face, handing each member a pair of their own before signalling the rookies to make their way back to training. “Have another four members to compete with for her attention, don’t want any in team fighting when you are here trying to steal them away in more ways than one.”

“Charlotte,” you criticize with a scoff before loading your gun, shivering with a smile to the satisfying click, “you all look handsome in your new suits, Jason did well as usual.” They each nod in conformation, Price finds himself in navy blue with neutral brown tones of shoes and a belt. Simon of course wears all black as Kyle wears a maroon ensemble. Johnny sports lovely charcoal grey pieces that have you making a mental check note to request another suit in a similar colour-way. “Now, Charlotte and I will continue to show you the various… safety features implemented into your new uniforms.” 

Clicking your shoes together, a blade extends from the toe just as you repeat the actions to hide the blade once more as you comment, “Poison tipped blade in there, one good lick and anyone would be seeing the pearly gates.” The men copy your actions as the all take an extra wide step away from one another. “Of course our ties as well,” your hand drifts up your chest and towards the knot, “great for choking out an attacker,” you wink at Laswell while saying this as she chokes, whispering about her wife as you throw your head back laughing as she soon does the same. 

Walking back over to your suit jacket, you feel around for your fountain pen inside before walking down the line, presenting them with the object for them to hold. Taking the pen back out of Simon's gloved hands you click it thrice in quick succession that extends a small pill at the top. “In case of emergency, this will kill you as well,” you add in a sweet, sarcastic tone. “But I will do my best to make sure it never comes down to that,” you add once seeing the concerned faces looking at you and Charlotte. 

“Now,” you smirk, turning your shoulder slightly before whipping your arm around, a blade emerging from between the fabrics of your suit as its flies in between Johnny and Kyle's head, their shoulders tensing, eyes wincing before letting out a breath of relief. “You really think I would try and kill you guys off that quickly?” you tease, receiving no response as you click your tongue, skating your head as Charlotte begins to go over the various guns they will have on their person depending on the mission. 

Picking up your custom engraved glock that your first handler gave to you upon promotion, you traced your fingers over the rides before taking aim at one of the targets at the back of the room. Each shot landing at the centre of the head, between the eyes as you flicked back on the safety and placed the barrel on the back of your waistband. A series of small claps go around the room as you turn to bow just as Charlotte hands each of them a weapon of their own. You both stand at the back, taking notes alongside Laswell to their techniques, strengths and weaknesses. 

Your phone rings as you curse out, ‘What Whitby?!” you cry out, they merely clear their throat before answering your question as you look towards the ceiling, patience wearing thin, “I am currently being shot at Handler! I need some assistance pronto~” he sing songs out as you look towards the line of men who have their backs still turned to you. “Give me 15 minutes,” is all your state before starting up a new call with Handler Jacobs, “Okay Jay, what fucking game are you playing at- get a hold of your agents before I get a hold of you- is that clear?” you state with utmost vice, your words like blades in pleasure in hearing him wince at your tone. 

“Of course, Handler D… I would not want to become part of your name's history,” he replies, shuffling of various papers easily heard from the otherside as they grip their desk in a panic, Samantha shouting from down the hall as an agent comes running into the headquarters, clearly injured and lacking the presence of another certain agent. 

“Fantastic.” You end the call soon afterwards, not wanting to hear another word as you put your hand up and Charlotte signals for everyone to unload their gun and set them upon the table to be cleaned. “It appears that you will be testing out everything you learned sooner than I expected. Do not disappoint me in making this decision.” 

“Yes, Handler” is sung throughout the space as you nod your head in approval before they trail behind you and towards your office where Jacobs anxiously awaits your presence. Palms sweating as they understand the hole they have dug themselves into. “I don’t wish to see your face Jacobs-” you state as they rush out the room, tail in between their legs as Samantha soon follows, not wishing to witness your wrath. 

Handing each task force member a small chip to set in their ear. You test communications before using your desk phone to request a vehicle at the back of the store. The Task force looks between one another, nervous for your next move. Pulling out a drawer from your desk, a series of labelled envelopes meet their eyes as you pull out four and press them gently into each of their pockets. “Inside these packages are any unique identifications that may be requested on the designated location, arrival time is set for 30 minutes from now where you will be meeting up with Agent Whitby, top of the division and you will respect each other. I will hear nothing from either side and on that note, you are all to find and destroy the fake artifacts pictured inside the envelope. I will be live on communications alongside Handler Jacobs if you have any questions, conversions or need for immediate evac. If communications do go down, Whitby will be there to assist your team as he is being briefed currently- is that clear?”

Laswell nods her head for the group who are seemingly entranced by your sudden calmness as you sip the fresh tea at your desk, making yet another mental note to thank Samantha when this mission was over for the drink. Clapping your hands to your knees, Charlotte comes running in, keys in hand as she states the car and model they are to drive. Sending Laswell a smirk in reassurance, you all watch as they make their way back upstairs for the festivities to start. 

Just as John is last to leave the room, you call out, halting him in his steps, “and do insure John-darling, that all equipment used today is back unscuffed.” He sends you a thumbs up before jogging back down the hall to catch up as you fall back into your chair and press your finger to the scanner. The room soon closes into security measures as a table emerges at the centre of the room, casting a 3D projection of the building and street they would be infiltrating. 

Your fingertip casts over the top of Whitby's head, you watch as he moves up and down the halls with elegance. Shoving suits of armour into unsuspecting guards heads while silencing their screams by kicking their faces into the plush rugs below. “And so the fun begins…”

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt

[lesbianpepsi]

sweet as cherries | part II

pairing: jenna ortega x blind!fem!reader

summary: you finally go on the date Jenna promised you

series masterlist

link to request

words: 4.203k

warnings: light swearing, r makes more blind jokes?, bad writing

authors note: thank you all so much for 800 followers, that's actually mental. love y'all <33

Jenna hadn't left your thoughts for longer than a minute since you met her a few days back at the cafe.

It was bad.

You couldn't stop yourself from thinking about her every single moment. 

Drinking cinnamon latte? Jenna. Your phone is ringing? You hoped it was Jenna calling. Heading towards the cafe? You hoped Jenna was there.

It was just Jenna, Jenna, Jenna. 

When she did call, hearing her voice again through technology wasn't anything like it was when you were a teenager watching one of her movies.

It was a thousand times better.

Hearing her voice actually speak to you, laugh at your terrible jokes and even compliment you made you feel as if you were in heaven. 

Her laugh was certainly one of your favourite things. 

As the days passed it reached Thursday, an exact week since you met Jenna at the cafe.

You were interrupted in the middle of listening to an audiobook by a phone call from Jenna. You giddily answered the phone with a smile already plastered on your face. 

"Hey Jenna." 

"Hey Y/n, how've you been today?" She asked you, hearing her saying your name never failed to make butterflies appear in your stomach. 

You shrugged your shoulders as you relaxed even further into the couch. "I've been alright thanks for asking, I've been stuck in the house all day 'cause of the rain. You?"

"It's raining heavily today, hasn't it?" You hummed in agreement. "I've been alright thanks for asking, tired but alright. Hopefully I'm gonna make yours better."

You chuckled as you raised your eyebrows as if she was with you. "Oh?"

Jenna giggled nervously through the phone, her angelic laugh making your smile soften. 

"I'm not working tomorrow so I was wondering if you'd like to go on that date I promised you?" She inquired with a tone to her voice that you never had heard before.

Without thinking you began nodding your head eagerly, soon after coughing awkwardly as you internally thanked the fact Jenna did not see your reaction.

"I'd love to go on a date with you." You answered her speedily making Jenna laugh at your jumbled words. "Yeah?" She asked again, you could practically hear her smirk through the phone.

"Yeah, I've been waiting all week for you to ask me out." You immediately regret your words as Jenna hums through the phone. "All week?" She teases, now you know she has a shit eating smirk on her face.

"You know what, I think I'll be busy tomorrow." This only made Jenna let out a laugh. "What a shame, guess I'll just have to go on a date with someone else."

"Oh look at that, my schedule just freed, turns out I am free tomorrow. No need to get a replacement for me." You admitted swiftly, laughing lightly yourself.

"Good, I don't think I could've found someone as good as you to go on a date with me." She answered with a cheeky smile on her face. 

Your heart skipped a beat at her words. She definitely knew how to charm someone, that you're sure about. 

"Well isn't that lucky for the both of us then." You concluded with a smile toying on your lips. "What're we gonna do?" 

"I've already planned everything out." Jenna says as she shuffled around in her seat.

"Really? What're we gonna be doing then?" You asked her curiously switching your phone to your other hand.

Jenna chuckled. "You'll have to wait till tomorrow to see." 

You groaned loudly, throwing your head backwards as you leaned against the head against the couch. 

"Really? You're gonna make me wait?"

"Yep!" Jenna exclaimed.

"I hate you." You grumbled through the phone, rolling your eyes as you did so. Jenna laughed, "You sure about that?" 

"No." You grumbled with a soft smile. "You're annoying, Jen." 

"What a way to woo a girl." Jenna replied, a small blush on her cheeks at the nickname. "I'll pick you up tomorrow around six?" 

"Well I certainly won't be drinking to pick you up." You said, sarcasm dripping off of your voice.

"Ha-ha. I bet you're trying not to laugh right now." A small giggle erupted from your chest at her nods, smiling a crooked smile.

"Maybe."

Jenna laughed freely as she shook her head, smiling like a fool. "So six?"

"I'll be waiting." 

—————

To say you're nervous is an understatement. You're fucking petrified. 

It hadn't hit you till after you and Jenna ended the call -which lasted another hour- that you're going on a date with America's It Girl. 

At Jenna's decision to not tell you where you'll be going it took you an entire hour to get changed.

After many, many outfit changes you decided on white long sleeve dress shirt, basic black pants along with a pair of even more basic black boots. 

Classy but something most people would wear on a daily basis. 

"Hey Alexa, what time is it?" You yelled out as you held your cane with a strong grip, your knee bouncing nervously up and down. 

"It's currently 5:59, one minute till your date with Jenna Ortega, a famous actress who was born on September twenty seventh-"

"Okay, okay, thank you Alexa."  You interrupted, not wanting to hear the machine ramble on about your date.

The clicking of the clock filled the silent apartment making you feel more nervous as the time ticked down. 

Would you make a fool of yourself? Will Jenna find out that she's actually not interested in you? What if it's awkward? What if-

"It's six in the evening, you are scheduled to go on a date with Jenna Ortega." Alexa spoke again, interrupting your internal self doubting. 

The exact moment the bot stopped talking gentle knocks were heard from your front door. You swallowed nervously as you stood up, leaning on your cane momentarily before you headed over to the door.

Taking a deep breath you twist the door-handle and pull it open, a nervous smile on your face.

"Y/n," Jenna says breathlessly with her own nervous smile on her face. "You look beautiful. Gorgeous even."

You blushed heavily at her words, looking down as if that would hide your blush. 

"Thank you, I don't doubt that you look even more beautiful." You reply with a grin, lifting your head to look in her direction.

Jenna laughed playfully as she gazed at you, her eyes flickering over your body as she admired how good you looked.

"Thank you. Are you ready to go?" 

You nod your head happily, stretching your hand out to where you know the coat rack was at, you feel around the different fabrics before you feel the texture for your black trench coat. 

Grabbing it, you quickly put it on as you take a step outside, closing the door behind you. 

"You gonna tell me where we're heading to?" You ask her as you instinctively go to grab Jenna's elbow with your free hand, letting her lead you towards your car, her being a step ahead of you.

Jenna didn't protest at the contact and even smiled at it. "You're just gonna have to wait." She replies with a grin as she directs you towards her car.

"Seriously?" You complain as you arrive at Jenna's car. Jenna opens the car door for you, making sure you don't bump your head on top of the car as you enter. Passing her your cane she closed the door as she carefully put it in the backseat, joining you in the front behind the wheel soon after.

"As serious as pie." Jenna says as she begins to drive, the car engine revving lowly as she drives off. 

You turn to look at her with furrowed eyebrows, laughing confusedly. "As serious as pie? I have never heard that before. What's so serious about pies?" 

Jenna smiled as she focused her eyes on the road, resisting the urge to let out a small laugh. "Pies sound like spies."

"Then why don't you say you are as serious as spies?" You ask even more confused, laughing amused as you push your thick black sunglasses back up your nose.

"When I was younger I constantly got the two mixed up so If I wanted an actual pie I'd ask: 'Can I have a spy?' I don't know how I mixed them up, but somehow I did." Jenna answered you with her own laugh, smiling from ear to ear as she heard you laugh even harder.

"It gets worse too. I remember I wanted to watch a Spy movie so my confused self asked 'Can I watch pie?'. So at the young age of four years old someone - I still don't remember who- did what I asked for and put on American Pie for me." 

You couldn't help but laugh as you shook your head, amused by Jenna's story. "Oh poor sweet innocent baby Jenna." You said in between laughs.

"I think it was so traumatising that I've completely blanked it out, I only know the story since my Mom likes to bring it up during family holidays." Jenna laughs as she flicks the indicators on, the low ticking noise being heard between your and Jenna's laughs. "The time she walked into the living room to her four year old daughter watching American Pie."

"I can't even imagine your moms face walking into that." You exclaim as your laughter finally dies down, your crooked grin never leaving your face.

After Jenna's story the car is filled with low music from the radio. Eventually you feel Jenna stop and park the car, leaving the car before arriving outside your door moments later, opening it up for you as she hands you your cane.

"Thanks," You whispered as you gripped at the cane with your dominant hand, your other hand reaching out for Jenna's elbow. 

At first you waved it across the air but Jenna quickly came back to your side and guided your non-dominant hand to her elbow.

"I feel like it isn't fair that I literally can't see where we are, so you finally gonna tell me?" You asked as you walked with Jenna, letting her guide you as your cane glided against the floor. 

"It isn't much but I booked us reservations at a restaurant, I made sure to pick the best one in town." You smiled as you unconsciously licked your lips at the mention of food.

"The best one, huh? Is it also the fanciest?" You teased with an appreciative smile, showing Jenna that you were truly thankful about her planning the date.

Jenna blushed as she chuckled, glancing over at your side profile briefly before back at the restaurant in front of you two.

As you neared the entrance a man in a tight suit opened the glass door for the two of you, his smile as wide as it was fake as he rehearsed his line for the probably hundredth time.

"Welcome to The Crown, I hope you enjoy your meals." Jenna smiled politely at him as she entered the restaurant with you by her side.

Immediately low chatter and sounds of cutlery was heard throughout the entire restaurant, filling up your sensitive ears with the sounds.

Jenna guided you towards the check in where another man stood in with a fake smile plastered on his face, a formal suit on his figure. She smiled up at  him as she came to a halt, you stopping beside her, never letting go of her elbow. 

"Hi, reservations under the name Ortega." She said with a ravishing smile. 

The smell of the food was intoxicating as it flooded your nose, you definitely are going to enjoy your dinner tonight, that's for sure.

"I'm sorry but I see no reservations under the name Ortega." The man apologised in an overly fake apologetic tone that you couldn't help but notice.

Jenna's eyes widened dramatically as she shook her head, taking a step close to where the man stood behind the small podium with an iPad attached to it.

"Are you sure? I made reservations three days ago." Jenna insisted with a polite voice as she laughed nervously. "What about Jenna?" She tried again.

The man hissed as he shook his head at Jenna. "I'm sorry but there are no reservations under the name Ortega or Jenna. We've recently hired new staff and it gets hectic over the summer so one of them have probably mixed up the reservations. Sorry." He answers, dragging out the letter 'y' much longer than necessary.

Jenna sighed as she turned to face you, a frown on her face. "I'm so sorry, Y/n." You turned your head to the direction of her voice, a crooked smile still on your lips. "There's nothing to be sorry about, it isn't your fault the reservations got messed up." 

She sighed as she looked down at the ground, embarrassed that she had ruined your and hers first date. "Still, this night was supposed to be perfect but now we have nowhere to eat." The brunette apologised again in a thick voice.

You shake your head at her as you squeezed at her elbow reassuringly. "We can still have a great night, Jen, c'mon let's go for a walk and we can figure it out then." 

Jenna reluctantly nodded her head after a few seconds, raising her hand to lay it over yours for a second before she slowly turned around, making sure you were turning with her slowly. 

"Let's go," She affirmed, walking out of the restaurant with a small frown still on her face.

Jenna and you stayed silent for a few minutes as you walked down the lively street. The actress felt a gnawing sense of guilt in her stomach every time she glanced at you.

You on the other hand still had a smile toying on your lips, more than happy to just be around Jenna. You sense Jenna was feeling guilty about the 'supposed' ruined date, but to you the date wasn't ruined at all, a minor hiccup.

"Can I ask you a question?" You abruptly ask her as you turn your head to look at her face.

"You just asked me one." She retorted, glancing back at you with a grin. You rolled your eyes under your black glasses. "Of course you're that type of person. Bet if you were a teacher and I asked if I can go to the bathroom you'd say: 'I don't know, can you?'" 

Jenna laughed as she shook her head, the corners of her eyes crinkling up in delight as she did so. "Wow, you really do think that low of me." She teased back with her own playfulness. 

"Of course I do, I loathe you so much I'm going on a date with you." You disclosed with noticeable sarcasm in your voice as you chuckled. "Seriously though, can I ask you a question?"

"I don't know, can you?" Jenna replied without any hesitation.

"You're hilarious, can't you see I'm laughing my ass off right now?" You replied dryly, acting annoyed, but the twitch of the corner of your lips telling a completely different story. 

"What did you wanna ask me?" Jenna finally asked you, putting you out of your misery as you two walked down the lit up street.

"Is it weird seeing your face plastered absolutely everywhere?" You questioned her with genuine curiosity. "Not like I've ever even seen your face before, but is it weird or have you gotten used to it?"

Jenna stifled a little laugh at your joke as she shrugged her shoulders weakly. "It was a massive shock in the beginning, if I'm being honest. Out of all my projects I never expected Wednesday to be my biggest break. It took some time for me to start getting used to it, it can still be very stressful at times but I've gotten much better at managing it compared to how I was in November."

Your thumb caressed against Jenna's shirt as you two walked, a small encouraging smile on your face as you listened to Jenna talk.

Unknown to you Jenna smiled softly at the feeling of your caressing her lightly.

"I know for a fact I'll never get used to the paparazzis, they're the fucking worst with their blinding flashing cameras." She complains. No star will ever get used to the invasion of privacy at every given moment of their life.

You snorted a laugh. "Guess if they ever see us together in public I'll be okay then."

Jenna stayed silent for a moment, confused by your words until she finally got your joke. The latina bit her lower lip to hide the laugh wanting to escape from her, a smirk on her lips. 

Before Jenna could say anything she felt you grip her tighter as you stopped walking, she immediately turned to you full of worry but by the wide smile on your face she quickly calmed herself down.

"I know what we're gonna have for dinner." You exclaimed with a delighted smile. "If there's one thing I can smell better than cinnamon latte it's wood-fired pizza trucks." 

Her eyes glanced around at your words and to her surprise a wood-fired pizza truck was at the corner of the street, only a small line of people queuing.

"You're a genius, Y/n. Let's go." Jenna eagerly said, walking towards it at a pace quicker than usual. You followed along with her just as eagerly, both of you having wide smiles on your faces.

As the two of you arrived at the food truck there were only three other people in front of you, an incredibly small line for a Friday night. 

Standing beside Jenna you turned your head in her direction, your smile nervous as you nodded towards the truck.

"Can you read the menu to me, please?" You gingery asked her with a taut voice, Jenna nodded her head without hesitation, turning to read the menu as she listed off the different types of pizzas and what's on them.

After Jenna read the entire menu to you, you decided on a barbecue chicken pizza and Jenna going for a pizza called clucking spicy.

Jenna stepped forward, you followed her as you reached the front of the truck, the strong smells of different flavours and fire sneaking into your nose.

"What can I get for you two lovely ladies?" The owner said in a cheery voice as he leaned against the counter, gawking down at the two of you.

Jenna looked up at him with her own polite smile. "Hi can I get one twelve inch clucking spicy pizza, one twelve inch barbecue chicken pizza and can I have one can of cherryade as well please."

"Of course, the drink is on the house, darling." He replied still with a cheery voice as he wrote down the orders on a notepad. 

You grinned at the sound of a free drink while Jenna shook her head, smiling nervously. "Are you sure? I can pay if you want." She insisted.

The man shook his head. "And I insist it's for free, my youngest daughter loves you in that show -oh what's the name. Oh! Stuck in the Middle, she watches it every morning before school."

Your heart practically melted at the man's words, your smile turning soft as you listened intently to their small conversation.

Jenna blushed lightly from embarrassment as she smiled up at the man.

"Oh, thank you so much, sir. How much is it for the pizzas?" She asked as she pulled out a wallet from her pocket.

You shook your head as you squeezed her elbow again, stealing her attention away from her own wallet. "I'll pay for it." You tell her with a smile.

Jenna shakes her own head as she gazes at your face. "No, it's fine, I'll pay."

"Jen, seriously I can pay, you already managed to make it cheaper so you've done your part." You laughed, loosening your hold on her as you shoved your hand into the pocket of your trench coat, searching for your wallet.

"Paying is the least I can do." Jenna argued back as she turned to look at the man who had an amused look on his face, his eyes flickering between you two.

"How much?" She asked again.

"Sixteen." He said with a small chuckle. 

You swiftly pulled out your wallet pulling out a twenty as you placed it on the counter before Jenna or the man could say anything. 

"Y/n!" Jenna complained as she turned to glare at you. You smiled in the man's direction as you ignored the feeling of Jenna's eyes staring into your side profile. 

He bellowed out a laugh as he shook his head, taking the twenty as he fiddled around with the cashier. "Young love." He muttered to himself with a smile.

The man gave you the change along with a small slip of paper with your order number on it. "The food will be ready soon." He says before turning around to help with the orders.

You passed Jenna the slip of paper as the two of you made your way to a bench. Once you two are sitting down you hear her snort a laugh next to you.

"What?" You asked with a nervous smile, your fingers tapping against your cane. Jenna had a smirk on her face as she fiddled with the paper. "We're order number sixty nine." She explained in a dirty voice as she resisted the urge to laugh. 

You couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Seriously? What are you, a teenage boy?" You teased her, shuffling closer to her subtly.

"Hey! You're laughing too so you find it just as funny as I do." She jabbed back with a playful expression as she gazed at you, a look of pure admiration on her face.

Conversations flowed easily between you and Jenna for the rest of the night, almost as if it was the easiest thing ever. As easy as walking, listening even breathing.

The two of you ate your beyond amazing pizzas after giggling like children after hearing the man's voice booming voice yell, "Sixty nine!" across the street. 

Jenna drank all of the cherryade to herself but you honestly didn't mind, you stole a few sips and that was more than enough for you. The drink itself was sweet and okay at best.

Hours passed as you and Jenna sat on the bench, chatting and laughing away like there was no tomorrow. Eventually the two of you had to part ways as it somehow reached midnight before you even knew it.

Jenna, the gentlewoman she is, took you home and even walked you to your door.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears as you lingered in the doorway to your house, your body facing Jenna's.

 "I had a really good time, Jenna, thank you." You say, Jenna smiles at you as she takes a small step closer to you. "It definitely wasn't how I expected the night heading but I really enjoyed myself too."

Swallowing your anxiety you smiled at her taking your own limpid step closer to her.  "Does that mean there will be another date?" You ask her in a hopeful voice, your anxiety crawling back up your throat with each word you uttered.

Jenna laughed her heavenly laugh as she bit her bottom lip. "I'd love nothing more than a second date." 

"Love huh? I must've really made a good impression on you then." You teased her in a weak attempt to try to calm down the erratic beating of your heart. Convinced if Jenna and you stayed silent she would've been able to hear it pounding against your chest.

"Wanna know what I would love even more?" Jenna asks in a soft voice, taking her another step closer to you. You shake your head 'no' at her question, a sensation of butterflies gnawing at your stomach.

Jenna moved even closer placing a gentle hand on your waist, a blush burned at the tip of your ears at the feeling. She slowly leaned closer to you until her mouth hovered over your ear, you could feel her breath against your ear. Goosebumps swiftly erupted all over your body at the feeling.

"For a goodnight kiss." She whispered with a smirk, enjoying the way your cheeks burned as furiously as your ears at her words.

Carefully you raised your hand as you placed your palm on her cheek, sighing contently at the feeling of her soft smooth skin. 

Jenna pulled away from your ear as she gazed at your lips; you could feel her low quick breaths against your own lips.

"And I'd love nothing more than to make you happy." You declared in a small voice before pulling Jenna in for a kiss.

The sensation of Jenna's lips on yours immediately caused a larger swarm of butterflies in your stomach as well as making your knees feel much weaker. Your other hand quickly grabbed at her waist, sighing quietly as you kissed Jenna.

She tasted like cherries; a sweet taste you could feel yourself becoming addicted to. 

Jenna's own arm was wrapped around your neck as she pulled you even closer to her.

If you thought your favourite thing about Jenna was her honey like voice, then it definitely had some competition as you could only describe kissing Jenna as one word.

Heavenly.

—————

taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @canvascoloredin

if you want to be added to the taglist just comment and i'll add you:)

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 13: THE JOYS OF SOVIET TECHNOLOGIES

synopsis: you celebrate the release of kollektiv 2.0, and meet a kind stranger and an american danseur that both seem really familiar.

word count: 1.9k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: the long wait is over!!!! the research essay has been slain and i have time to write again :)

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The bright sun above fills you with a pleasant warmth, but the plentiful trees that line the canal provide a wealth of shade. Automated paddle boats cut through the water at a languid pace, giving the couples inside plenty of time to talk and a semblance of privacy.

People are friendlier now than at any other time of the year – you’re all attending a festival, so it makes sense. They smile and shake your hand and greet you with a happy “Is it not an amazing day, comrade?” 

The booths you walk past are showing off the new weapons they’ve developed and their upgrades (you’ve never seen a Kalashnikov in person before!), THOUGHT devices and their benefits, and a myriad of other advanced technologies only now being revealed to the public. But the bells and whistles are to be expected – today is a celebration of Facility 3826, after all.

The date is June 12th, 1955. And it’s a wonderful day to be a citizen of the glorious Soviet Union.

As you walk by, machines continue their routines. VOV-A6 Techs work on foot to deliver crates (you’d almost mistake them for humans if not for the mark on the middle of their backs and the unfeeling, unmoving mask they have for a face). MTU-7 Bumblebees move cargo crates through the sky, the sound of their blades beating against the wind sending a soft hum through the air. TER-A1 Tereshkovas guide tourists through the city, their feet barely scraping the concrete as they move. 

“Good day, comrade!” Someone’s voice cuts you from your thoughts. It’s a facility representative – a man dressed in a white labcoat, a crisp black tie, and a THOUGHT device (a module placed on the temple with wires that float off the browbone to reach over to the opposite temple). “Come closer! I’m here to help.”

“Hello, comrade,” you say. You look over at the booth he’s standing by. It’s a short silver pole, no taller than him, with a circular tray floating around it, rotating slowly. It has little different colored modules on it, each floating above their designated coupling. 

“Would you like a THOUGHT device?” He asks. “It’s high time you got one!”

“No, thank you.” You hold up a hand. “I’m just browsing for now.”

“Why restrict yourself to browsing when you can get your own personalized device this very instant?” The man asks. “I can help you pick out the right unit. It can even match your eye color!”

He picks up one and holds it close to your face, as if gauging it. “Ah, yes! A violet gooseberry model would suit you well.” He takes the module away and looks you over. “You… are polymerized, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you say. “But… I thought those devices weren’t going to come online until next Monday.”

“That’s right, comrade. But some people like to get it early, like a pre-order.” He tosses the module on the tray, and it magnetizes back to its coupling. “At the moment, the device functions as a personal telephone set and headlight, but it also allows the user to get used to wearing it on their head.”

“Well…” You look over the modules on the rotating tray. “It’s free, right?”

“Absolutely!” The man says, a smile on his worn face. “Allow me to connect you.”

He gestures to the booth, telling you to take your pick. You look over your options before picking out one that’s a crisp cerulean blue – you don’t know why, but the color seems nice to you. Like it reminds you of something, or someone. You pick it up even as the device tries to stay magnetized to its coupling. You turn it over in your hand before pressing it to your temple. It sticks, and wires come out to reach over to your other temple, like a half-crown or half-halo. 

The man presses a finger to his THOUGHT device. After a few moments, a confused look crosses his face. 

“Khm, that’s odd…” he says. “It seems I can’t access your biometric data. Maybe there’s some sort of malfunction…? I’m so sorry.”

You take off the module and return it to its place on the tray. “Ah, don’t sweat it. I don’t wear a lot of jewelry, anyway. Thanks for telling me about it, though.”

“Of course, comrade,” the man says. “Again, I do apologize. Have a good day!”

“You too.” You turn to walk, but stop yourself. “Actually, sir – I have a question, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes?” He says. 

“It’s about…” You gesture vaguely around. “The people. They’re all speaking English. I don’t mind, since I can speak it. But I would expect at least some Russian.”

“Oh, yes!” The man laughs. “Facility 3826 is promoting the learning of English, just in case anyone sees anything of American origin. This is so if anyone sees or hears English, they’d be able to discern whether or not it’s a threat to the goodness of our Union. The festival is a good time to practice for people that are still learning.”

“That makes sense,” you hum. “Thank you.”

You continue walking down the street. It would’ve been nice to have a transportable telephone, but it’s not like you’re in dire need of one. You can figure that out later. 

There’s a small crowd gathered around a RAF-9 Engineer juggling various things it’s taken from the crowd: pochette-style purses, children’s toys, cigarette cartons. You stop at the edge of the group and watch as it throws the items up and catches them with pinpoint accuracy. 

There’s a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, kid.”

You turn and see a man. He’s late forties, early fifties at most. His hair brushes past his ears in an untamed, grey mop and his beard matches it. His face is worn, but his gap-toothed smile is kind.

“I’m sorry, comrade.” You smile politely. “But I… don’t recognize you. You’re probably mistaking me for someone else.”

“Oh, shit,” he says, removing his hand from your shoulder. “You look like someone I know. My bad.”

“Well, I’m sure your friend is around here somewhere!” You try. “They may be at one of the cheburek or bliny stands. There’s a really good one selling bliny just down that way.”

The stranger checks over his shoulder, where you were pointing, then looks back to you. “I’m not from around here. You mind showing me the way?”

You check your pocket watch and mentally count the time until Dmitry Sechenov’s grand speech. You’re not crunched for time yet, and it would do you good to have something to tide you over until you could eat a real meal.

“Yeah, sure.” You start walking, and the stranger matches your pace.

“The stand has a few fillings,” you say, both to fill dead air and to make the silence less awkward. “Fruit preservatives – cherries, apples, plums, berries – meat, honey, or just plain with butter and salt.”

“What’s your recommendation?” The now-somewhat-familiar stranger asks. 

“Well, in the spring, they’d have imported lemon preservatives,” you say. “But it’s summer, so that well’s dried up. I’d just go with the cherries. Sweet or bitter, it doesn’t really matter to me.”

“You’re just makin’ me hungry,” the stranger mumbles with a smile.

You laugh. “That’s the idea, no?”

After another minute of walking, the stand comes into view. Two men are operating the stand, and the soft scent of batter on the griddle beckons you closer. A radio is playing.

“Look at the menu,” you tell the familiar-stranger. “Take your pick. It’s cheap, so I’ll pay.”

You look around while he looks at the menu. There’s other people, obviously, and some on the canal are pointing at a man in an automated paddleboat. You barely hear whispers of “It’s comrade Major Nechayev!”

You turn your eyes away. Nechayev doesn’t really interest you. From what you’ve heard, he’s just some military dog leftover from the Red Army. What does interest you is the crowd across the canal. 

They’re gathered around some sort of stage that must’ve been assembled temporarily for the festival, like an American carnival. You watch for a few moments, but can’t glimpse what’s happening on stage. 

The stranger pulls you out of your thoughts. “Hey, what’re they talkin’ about on the radio?”

You turn back to him. “Huh?”

He points at the radio that’s playing on the bliny stand. It’s playing a jingle: “For the greatest advancements in cosmetic enhancements, there’s only one man you should be trusting your glam with!”

You listen a little longer and catch a name – Doctor Steinman – and roll your eyes. “It’s that underwater city off the coast of Iceland. The one that uses the same technologies as the ones invented to create the Neptune complex here.”

The stranger nudges you. “Why’re you rollin’ your eyes?”

“The city won’t last,” you say. “They say that it’s a city where the great won’t be brought down by the small. And all those immigrants go to Rapture thinking they’ll survive the fire of American-based industry. But they forget that, even in utopia, someone has to scrub the toilets.”

“Yeah, that’s a factor most forget,” the stranger says. 

“Eh, what else do you expect from capitalists?” You shrug. “Let’s just order. What do you want?”

The stranger looks back at the menu. “Uh… a bliny with… apple preserves.”

You quickly order your bliny and his and fork over the rubles, then look across the canal. The performance is still going. 

“Listen, khm,” you say to the stranger without looking away from the stage. “Can you watch our order? I want to see what’s happening across the canal.”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” the stranger says. 

You thank him quickly and hurry over the bridge to get to the other side of the waterway. You slowly make your way through the crowd – not to the front, but just enough so you can see…

A danseur? (Or a ‘ballerino’ in other countries, you suppose.) He’s wearing a form-fitting black shirt and a matching pair of tights. His pointe shoes are a soft pink, just a few shades off his skin tone. A THOUGHT device crowns his head – the same cerulean blue model you were looking at earlier. 

As he moves, he matches the music perfectly. It’s like he was born to extract the flow and rhythm from music and express it in dance. His feet don’t break their arch and don’t falter, even for a split second. 

Then, he turns. On his front, over his left breast, is a small American flag. 

Your eyebrows crease. You lean over and quietly ask a nearby woman, “He’s from America?”

“It was made in America,” she whispers back. “It’s an android, comrade.”

The danseur turns his head as his arm swoops up to point his fingertips to the sky. His soft, brown eyes lock with yours with you and you feel… you don’t know what you feel. It’s something physical, on your back. Maybe someone bumped into you? But the crowd isn’t moving. 

You take a step backwards as he continues staring at you, stock-still. You take another, then look behind you. The crowd is gone.

“Какого хуя?” You mumble. 

You look back up at the danseur. He’s moved a little closer, his feet just barely stepping off the stage. He comes closer, his movements still fluid and graceful, like he’s still dancing.

“Officer?” He asks softly. 

“What?” You say. 

His hand comes to your face, his fingertips just barely brushing across your jawline. His lips start to form a word, but –

-> CH 13: GOOD, HONEST SNAKE OIL – IF THERE IS SUCH A THING!

synopsis: after you and arthur swing by the sheriff's office, you go on a run to hunt a bounty and meet a man who seems really familiar.

word count: 1.3k

ships: CH: “mister kamski? the officer is stable, and is responding well to the reintegration system.”

notes: EK: “make sure they go through each as quickly as possible, chloe. i need to see if they can get back on their feet.”

HoTS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HOUSE OF TRUE SECURITY MASTERLIST

“I got it.” A voice pulls you to look over at the entrance to the Valentine’s Sheriff’s Office. It’s Arthur Morgan, holding up a folded-up wanted poster. 

You lean down from your horse (a beautiful Dutch Warmblood named Bronya) and reach out to Arthur as he approaches. “Give this to me.”

Arthur hands over the poster, and you unfold it. It’s for one mister Benedict Allbright – needed alive, for a reward of fifty dollars.

“He needs to be living?” You say. “This is unlike you.”

Arthur mounts his horse, a Tenessee Walker named Marie. He clicks his tongue and presses his legs together against Marie’s flank once, and she starts trotting. You and Bronya follow. 

“Was the only one there,” Arthur says as you pull up beside him. “They says he’s been poisonin’ folks with some ‘miracle cure’ from here to Annesburg. Says he killed more ‘n Landon Ricketts without even pullin’ a trigger.”

“Troubling,” you say. “He is dangerous?”

Arthur looks over at you. “Would I bring you along if he was?”

“He cannot be more trouble than Angel Island,” you say. 

And everything comes rushing back. The Wild West is being tamed. A robbery in Blackwater went wrong, and you and the rest of the Van der Linde gang were forced to flee east – the exact opposite of where you wanted to go. And you’re only in this mess because of the officials operating Angel Island. They somehow messed up your papers, and you couldn’t get the work you were promised. You were forced to steal, lie and sometimes even kill to get your way. 

The date is June 12th, 1899. And it’s a normal day as a somewhat-citizen of the United States of America.

“Where is this… Allbright?” You ask. 

“Fellers down at the Sheriff’s said he was holed up in some gorge north a’ here,” Arthur says. 

“Ah! I know what you speak of,” you say, squeezing Bronya’s sides with your claves. She breaks into a canter. “Follow!”

“Now, you can’t just –!” Arthur makes an exasperated sound, then matches your speed. “At least give me a warnin’!”

You laugh, the sound full of warmth. The ground beneath the horses’ hooves turns from the mud of Valentine into the drier dirt of the outer town limits. 

A few minutes later, you pull off the well-trodden trail and into the knee-high grasses. You lead Arthur through the sparse trees that make up the edges of Cumberland Forest.

“How come you know these parts so well?” Arthur asks, breaking the somewhat-silence.

“I have a good head,” you say. “After riding through this place once, I know it, um… I know it like…” You grumble, frustrated. You know what you’re trying to say, but just… can’t articulate it right. You’re tempted to just say it in Russian, but Arthur wouldn’t understand, and you would risk any passerby potentially becoming hostile. (Shouldn’t you speak better English than this? You remember speaking better English than this…)

“What’re you tryna say?” Arthur asks. He’s used to this.

You take one of your hands away from the reins and hold it up. “Something to do with hands. I know it like… like my hands know it?”

“Like the back of my hand,” Arthur corrects. 

“That!” You chime, re-taking the reins in hand. “I know it like the back of my hand.”

You hear the sound of water running along a riverbed and perk up. “We are close.”

Marie follows Bronya as you guide her up a slope into a small alcove carved into a mountain. It’s a thin slope – on one side is the mountain, and on the other is a twenty-meter drop into a river. The alcove is housing a man – supposedly Benedict Allbright – and his horse.

You turn back to Arthur and jerk your head towards Allbright. He’s always been the more intimidating of you two, so you’re letting him lead this one. 

Arthur grunts and dismounts his horse before walking by Bronya, towards Allbright. “Oh, what we got here?”

He continues walking forward until he comes to a stop just before Allbright’s bedroll and campfire. “Are you Benedict Allbright?”

Allbright stands, backing away from Arthur a bit. “N-no, sir.”

“You kinda look like him,” Arthur says. “And we was told he’d be up here.”

“No, uh,” Allbright says. “Not me, sir.”

“It’s because…” Arthur sighs, and looks out of the alcove, down at the river. “I wanna buy some medicine. And, I heard… I heard good things.”

The corner of your mouth twitches up. Arthur could rival Hosea with his tact for semantics, even if he adamantly denies it. 

“I’ll pay – in gold – i-if you can help me find him. It’s just…” Arthur glances over at you, then the ground, like it pains him to look at you. “My brother’s child over there is real sick. Russiatitus, they was callin’ it. Rare disease. We tried all them medicines they said to try, but… nothin’s workin’.”

“Oh!” Allbright looks over at you through his spectacles and smiles. “Well… if it’s for the ill, I’d be more than happy to help!”

He turns and walks over to his bags, picking out a small bottle filled with a viscous, dark yellow liquid. “I’m a healer, y’know? A medical man.”

Allbright turns back and hands it to Arthur. “Finest medicine in the state.”

Arthur pretends to be wowed, then tosses the bottle off the edge of the alcove and into the river. Before Allbright has time to react, he’s drawn his revolver. So have you. You spur Bronya to walk forward, past Allbright’s horse and partially into his camp.

“Game’s over, mister.” Arthur angles himself so that he’s blocking the only other exit. “Put your hands up – we’re takin’ you in.”

“Takin’ me in?” Allbright repeats, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. He puts his hands up. “What for?”

“Apparently that stuff you’re pushin’ is killin’ folk, n’ there’s a price on your head,” Arthur says. “I don’t know, it ain’t my business.”

“C’mon, partner, that’s crap. I’m a healer! I-I’ve got an aura… I speak to spirits! I’m a scientist!” Allbright insists. “Folks get real angry for no good reason, and this… this is a mistake.” He looks over at you. “S-surely you can talk some sense into him?”

“Hm…” You twitch your nose and shrug, not lowering your gun. “No.”

“Keep your hands up, buddy.” Arthur reaches forward carefully, taking Allbright’s gun from its holster and tossing it into the river. “They only want you for questionin’.”

“I – I have to insist that this is a mistake,” Allbright says. 

“Don’t be a fool,” Arthur says, corralling him towards the edge of the alcove. 

You look down at the river, then notice… a man. He’s looking up at you from where he stands in the riverbed, his pants soaked up to the knee. And – shit, from where he’s standing, he can clearly see you and Arthur pointing your guns at Allbright.

“Arthur,” you say without looking away from the man. “A man is watching. Maybe he is thinking we are robbing.”

“Go get ‘im,” Arthur says. “I got this handled.”

You click your tongue and tug on Bronya’s reins. She turns and starts walking down the slope to the river. 

The man doesn’t run as you approach him, despite your saddlebag holsters both holding rifles. Instead, he’s just… staring, with soft, brown eyes. 

He seems… familiar. Really familiar. Then again, Angel Island is on the west coast, and you’re pretty far from there, so you’ve seen a lot of people while in America. But… the bright blue stain on his temple seems so familiar. God, you swear you know him. Where is he from?

“You are watching me and my friend?” You ask, jerking your head towards the alcove. “The man is a bounty. He has been killing people from here and eastward, poisoning them with a… tonic. We do not rob for joy. We hunt bounties.”

The man walks forward, almost stumbling on the stones of the riverbed. “Officer?”

You rack your brain for that word, but come up with nothing. “I – I do not know the meaning of this English word… officer.”

He swallows thickly, then takes a breath. His lips start to form a word, but –

-> CH. 13: LET’S TALK HOMECOMING (THE MILITARY OPERATION, NOT PROM)

synopsis: you wake up on a helicopter, fresh from being saved, and meet a pilot that seems really familiar.

word count: ~900

ships: CH: “they were relatively unresponsive to that one. shall i introduce one that is less familiar?”

notes: EK: “yes. it should still be american, but... mixed with soviet suffering.”

ToFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

THREAT OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

“Wake up,” a voice mumbles. A hand grasps your shoulder and shakes you. “C’mon, commie…”

You open your eyes and see a man that’s familiar, but not. Like you’ve known him your whole life but only really registered his existence just now. He’s wearing a half-balaclava with a skull pattern and a beanie, and the skin around his ice-blue eyes is smeared with black greasepaint. 

“What the hell is happening?” You manage through gritted teeth. You shift and try to sit up from the bench of the helicopter you’re in, but he pushes you back down. 

“You got the bright idea to follow the twin brats to find Elias,” he says. “Into a goddamn burning house, no less. Jackass.”

You groan and close your eyes, bringing a fist to your forehead. “Keegan, don’t. Not right now.” His name slips from your lips before you even realize it. (So you do know this man, and probably the rest of the people on this helicopter… odd.)

In a fashion that seems familiar, it all comes back to you in a tidal wave of information. The energy deserts of Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and the rest of the major oil producers dried up a decade ago, sending the world into a panic. The entirety of South America united under the banner of the Federation of the Americas and the guide of General Diego Almagro, both willingly and unwillingly. General Almagro was assassinated in 2015, but his presence was still felt as the Federation took over Panama, then Costa Rica, then Nicaragua, working their way up to Mexico and, the other night, Dallas, Texas. 

You are a part of the Ghosts: a spec ops team set on beating back the Federation, even if it is a losing battle. 

The date is June 12th, 2027. And it’s a godawful day to be a citizen of the burning remains of the United States of America.

Hesh (one of the ‘twin brats,’ even though Logan is two years younger) pulls Keegan away and shoves him up against the wall of the helicopter. “You need to get this bird back on the ground. We’re not going anywhere!”

Keegan pushes him back easily, then adds, “Calm down, kid.”

“Hey!” Merrick body-slams Hesh into the wall. (He’s never been known for his gentleness.) “We just saved your asses!”

“We didn’t need your help!” Hesh snaps. 

Merrick takes hold of the collar of Hesh’s tac vest. Keegan taps your legs, and you sit up, pulling your legs up to your chest. Good thing you did – Merrick shoves Hesh down on the bench a moment later. 

“The hell you didn’t,” Merrick spits, towering over Hesh.

Elias shoves Merrick away with a, “Stow it! All of you.” (His voice is slightly muffled through his full-face balaclava, but it carries authority all the same.)

There’s a lot of light violence happening in the cabin of this helicopter, but you suppose that’s to be expected when the military comes around.

Hesh stands, facing Elias. “We have to go back! Our dad’s down there, and we’re not leaving without him!”

Logan stands too, signing at Elias. His words are angry, and his face is drawn into something like a snarl. He’s signing fast, but you manage to pick up something about him kicking everyone’s ass and tacking on a “TRUE BIZ” at the end, meaning that he’s not joking.

“That’s real admirable of you, Hesh, and I’m sure you can, Logan,” Elias says, sitting them both back down. “But your father’s not there anymore.”

He takes off his mask, revealing himself. 

“Dad?” Hesh says. “This whole time you were one of them? You’re a Ghost?!”

You look up and exchange glances with Keegan. Neither of you were really ones for surprise plot-twists or epic reveals. From what you can see, his expression looks bored and his eyebrows are drawn together a little, like a silent, ‘Can you believe this shit?’

You get up and Keegan automatically holds onto your shoulder, just in case you were to fall. You walk closer to the open cockpit, keeping a hand on the wall for the same reason. 

“What even happened?” You ask once you and Keegan were an acceptable distance away from the commotion. 

Keegan lets go of your shoulder and leans against the back of the pilot’s seat, crossing his arms. “Burning houses tend to collapse, dumbass. You got a roof tile right to the face.”

You rub your cheek and lean back against the wall adjacent to the cockpit. “Somehow that doesn’t shock me.”

The helicopter jolts a little bit and your head snaps over to the cockpit. From where you’re standing, you can see the co-pilot. He’s facing forward, but you can see the sparse freckles that dot his face and the tuft of brown hair that escapes the gel that slicks back the rest of his hair. The headset he’s wearing has a bright blue circle painted on the earcup – it must be a sign of his squad, or whatever pilots are a part of.

Your eyebrows furrow. He seems familiar, somehow. But not like how Keegan was familiar, and not like Merrick, Hesh, Logan, or Elias. He’s… you don’t know how to describe it.

The helicopter jolts again, and a hanging carabiner knocks the back of your head. Keegan huffs out a laugh when you whimper a small “ow.”

The co-pilot looks over his shoulder and back at you. You meet his soft, brown eyes. 

“Officer?” He says softly, his hands still on the yoke of the helicopter.

“Try Sergeant,” Keegan corrects. 

He glances at Keegan, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowing. His lips start to form a word, but – 

-> CH. 13: THE SMALLEST CHURCH IN SAINT-SAËNS

synopsis: come to the church.

word count: 1.2k

ships: don’t listen to them.

notes: you’re with us now. we’ll take care of you.

ToFS taglist: just come to the church. please.

TALES OF FALSE SERENITY MASTERLIST

You hear waves crash on the coast before you’re even fully aware that you’re on a beach. A church stands before you, sea-worn and rotted. A banner, yellowed with age, hangs above the entrance, reading: Holy Church of the Amnesiac (formerly the Dolorian Church of Humanity). 

You walk up the stairs to the entrance, the rotted wood barely holding your weight. When you reach the door, you raise your fist and knock. 

A few moments later, someone answers the door. The person who answers is covered head-to-toe in police riot armor with a duster jacket on top. Their headgear resembles a reinforced gasmask with dark green lenses, and the words FORGIVE ME MAMA are messily carved into their helmet.

They look you over, then take your hand. 

You don’t know why, but you follow them inside. The inside is somewhat dilapidated, but still nice. The pews have been pushed aside to create a common space and the floor is littered with rugs and blankets and a few sparse pillows. People are scattered about, laying on the pews or sitting on the floor. 

A few of them perk up at the sight of you, but the person corrals you to the front of the church, where a figure is sitting. Their silhouette is stark against the light shining through the stained glass window behind them, which depicts a woman holding up two fingers with her right hand and cupping a breast with the other. The windows that would have been her lungs are punched out, leaving sunlight shining through.

“Come, friend.” They wave you over. “Sit with me.”

You look at the person who escorted you to the front of the church, and they nod, then turn away and leave you.

You ease down and sit with the person, tucking a leg under you. You look over at them – they’re dressed in all black, a cloth mask covering the bottom half of their face and their clothes covering the rest of their body. Their knee-length jacket flutters in the slight wind of the smashed-through windows.

“What is…” You gesture around. “This? This church.”

“This is the Church of the Amnesiac,” they say. “And I am the Hunter of Vilebloods. You need not tell me your name – I have been awaiting your arrival, as has the rest of the church.”

“Who are you?” You ask. “I mean, I know your name, but… what is the purpose of this church? Because from what I can tell, it’s not worship.”

The Hunter takes a breath and sighs. “We do not know. We are simply wanderers that have found our way here. This is not our home. We are all… bereft of memory. Something has cursed us, and I know that you have happened upon this curse, too.”

“What do you mean?” You ask. “I – I have memories.”

“Think back.” The Hunter looks into your eyes. “Think back to when you were but a child. Can you?”

“Of course I can,” you say. 

“Then tell me,” the Hunter says. “Recount your first memory.”

You look away and think back. “I… visited the Exhibit of National Economy Achievements when I was a child. I must have been… five, or six. There were machines there, both modern and vintage. It was a beautiful place that showcased the highest of Soviet achievements.”

The Hunter hums in response. “Your next memory?”

“When my father gave me a Makarov pistol,” you say. “He gifted it to me when I was ten years old. He never let me fire it, but it was still important to me. I had a hell of a time getting it over to the States when I immigrated.”

The Hunter tilts their head. “I… do not quite know what a Makarov pistol is, or where the States are, but please. Continue.”

“And then, my next memory is… when I was sixteen.” Your eyebrows furrow as you remember. “There was an accident, and I lost both of my legs. Luckily, I was able to be quickly fitted with prosthetics that mixed existing technology with neuropolymer. I was able to move my legs, but unable to really… feel them.” You sigh. “Now I have different ones, as I wasn’t done growing at sixteen. That, and the technology has improved.”

The Hunter shifts how they’re sitting so that they’re closer. “That is your next memory? There is… nothing in between?”

“N… no?” You say, unsure. “Is there supposed to be?”

“Typically, yes,” the Hunter says. “There is a menagerie of memories for one to look back on. Family, friends, parties and religion… but are you admitting that there is nothing?”

“Well, it…” You think for a moment, then admit in a small voice, “Yeah. I don’t remember anything until I emigrated from Chelomey.”

You feel something push against your leg – something solid and furry. You look over and see an orange cat with a little backpack rubbing against your leg, then sniffing at your shoes. He looks up at you and meows softly, as if noticing your sudden spike in stress.

“Hello,” you say softly. You reach out a hand and rub your fingers together, making a soft sound. The cat sniffs at your fingers before pushing his face against your hand, purrs starting to rumble in his tiny kitty chest.

“Who is this?” You ask, starting to gently scratch at the cat. 

“That is Stray,” the Hunter says. “He does not have memories, just like the rest of us.”

“But I do have memories,” you insist. 

“I apologize. I misspoke. He has… gaps in memory, just like the rest of us.” The Hunter looks over your shoulder and around the church. “Just like the Courier, the Tarnished, and everyone else here.”

You sigh, looking at the Hunter. “So what happens now? I died, so… is this all the afterlife has to offer? The Holy Church of the Amnesiac and a cat?”

The Hunter returns their eyes to you. “Oh, you did not die. You simply just… left your body behind.”

“What?” You snap, and Stray bolts. “What do you mean?”

“Did you really think that this is all dying has to offer?” The Hunter asks. “A church and a cat and a few sad wanderers?”

“I…” You trail off. “Maybe! The philosophy I read about isn’t about death and what comes after. It’s the philosophy of man and his nature.”

“Man and his nature,” the Hunter echoes. “What a fickle thing one’s nature is. And I can see your very nature being unraveled before me in this very moment.”

“I don’t…” You groan and bring a hand to your forehead. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. “I don’t know what to make of this. This is all just – it’s too much.”

“You will emerge victorious. And if not, you will return to the church, and we will send you on your way again,” the Hunter says. 

They reach out and draw you closer, holding you against their side with an arm around your shoulder. They lean down and whisper in your ear, “It has been an honor, but we really must say good-bye. Now go, cleanse the tarnished streets of your homeworld. And may the good blood guide your way.”

-> CH. 13: WAKE UP & SMELL THE ASHES

synopsis: you wake up and kamski explains everything.

word count: 1.7k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: the long wait is over!!!! the research essay has been slain and i have time to write again :)

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

“Officer?” A soft, melodic voice calls. “Officer, can you hear me?”

You groan and turn on your side, away from the light that’s burning into your eyelids. “Huh…?”

“Officer, you need to wake up,” the voice continues. 

You open your eyes slowly and look up, only to lock eyes with… Chloe. What is Chloe doing here?

“You’re awake.” Chloe smiles and cups your jaw. “I will alert Mister Kamski right away.”

She looks away as her LED flickers, as do her eyes. After a moment, she looks back down at you and takes her hand away. You lay on your back, close your eyes, and wait.

A few minutes later, Kamski enters the room. You sit up, then immediately regret it when a stabbing pain shoots through your head. 

You screw your eyes shut and cover your eyes with a hand. You grind out, “Kamski, what the fuck am I doing here?”

“Lay back down,” Kamski says. You feel Chloe put a hand on your shoulder, and she guides you back down. The pain subsides enough for you to open your eyes again. 

Kamski takes a seat by your bedside and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. You look over. 

“Again, what the fuck am I doing here?” You say. “I… I died. I remember dying.”

“You did,” Kamski says, as if it was a completely normal thing to say. 

“Then how the hell am I alive?” You hiss. 

Kamski leans back in the chair and crosses his leg over his knee. “Do you remember your childhood?”

“Snippets,” you snap. “I just had this conversation. Now tell me how I’m alive after being shot in the goddamn head!”

“It’s simple,” Kamski says. (It’s not.) “You were never alive to begin with.”

You shoot up from the bed. “Чего?!” Again, Chloe pushes you back down.

“You know philosophy. Do you know Chariton Zakharov?” Kamski says, not pausing to give you a chance to answer. “Of course you do. You’ve read The Life, Death, Neuropolymer-Induced Transformation, and Secondary Death of Chariton Radeonovich Zakharov. In one of his letters, he wrote, ‘The radiance of pure reason, and it alone, can illuminate the path of humanity. Because a human being is not a body. It’s a way of thinking.’ I wanted to prove that.”

“I don’t really care to talk about philosophy right now!” You snap. 

Kamski holds up a hand. “Just wait. The sooner you understand this, the sooner you’ll get to see that android. What was its name again? Connor?”

“Connor!” You echo. “He’s here?! Take me to him – now!”

“Listen to me first,” he says. You grit your teeth and do your best to settle as he continues. “I wanted to create something that no one had created before. Obviously, I already did this with androids. But I wanted to go further.”

You nod, telling him to continue. You really want to get this over with. 

“So I thought, what about an android that thinks of itself as a human?” Kamski lets out a scoff-laugh. “Ridiculous, right?”

“If it’s ridiculous, I have no doubt that you probably did it,” you say. “Where is this android-human? Show me it so I can go.”

Kamski reaches under the chair and pulls out a mirror, then hands it to you. You take it and look at it. Sure enough, it’s a reflection of yourself, looking just as confused as you feel. 

“I don’t… understand,” you say, looking up at Kamski.

He taps the surface of the mirror. “You’re looking at it.”

You look at the mirror again. There’s nothing human-looking behind you – just a reflection of yourself in bed.

Kamski leans closer and whispers, “It’s you, Officer.”

“What an absurd idea.” You look at him. “Surely you’re joking, yes?”

“I’m not.” He leans back in his chair. “You’re the first android that was fully tricked into thinking that it’s human. You’ve been living this delusion for eleven years, ever since you thought you emigrated from Chelomey.”

“Again, this is idiotic!” You snap. 

“You only remember core components of your childhood,” Kamski says. “The Exhibit of National Economy Achievements. Your pistol. The accident.”

“I…” You sigh. “Yes, but –”

“Your parents didn’t traumatize you,” he says, tilting his head down and looking at you through his eyelashes. “That was what you were gonna say, right? That people with childhood trauma have gaps in memory and don’t remember a lot of their childhood.”

The words you had prepared die on your tongue. You look away. “Then who am I? Tell me, if you know so much about me.”

“Do you want me to tell you the truth?” He asks. “Or to recount the lie you’re used to living?”

“The truth,” you say before you can change your mind.

“There was a baby born in Chelomey with the same name as yours. Same birthday, same birth year. It was stillborn – didn’t even have a chance to take its first breath,” Kamski says. “That was where I got your birth name and birthday. Tensions between America and the USSR were already tense back then, so it was easy to fake documents. Your birth certificate, your passport, affidavits of income and support, your permanent residency card. You won the Green Card Lottery during a low-emigration year. You thought you got lucky, but you didn’t. I fabricated everything.”

There’s a sinking, swirling feeling in your stomach. You don’t really… know what to feel. You feel numb, somehow? But also like you’re ready to explode – to ask Kamski what the fuck he’s going on about, to tell him that he sounds like a raving lunatic, to tell him that you don’t believe a word he says. 

And yet… you do. It… it makes sense, somehow. Why would America let a nondescript Soviet such as yourself in? And into cybersecurity, no less.

“It’s obvious until it isn’t, isn’t it?” Kamski says. 

“M… my legs,” you say. “Why did you take my legs?”

“You needed to have some excuse for how you felt,” he says. “You didn’t have aches in them, nor did you experience any real pain. Right?”

“Yes,” you say. “Just phantom pain. But…” You sigh. “How am I able to feel? Not touch, but emotions. I thought correctly-functioning androids weren’t supposed to feel emotions.”

Kamski furrows his eyebrows. “You never did find a ‘patient zero’ for deviancy, did you?”

“No,” you say. “All we know is that it started in Detroit, and spread… across the country…”

A horrible feeling overcomes you. You were patient zero, weren’t you? You were the first to break your programming, to feel emotion and to feel pain – even if it was only imagined. And you probably infected Connor, too, didn’t you? You are the reason for his pain and suffering and all the turmoil he’s going through. You’re the root cause for the pain and suffering and turmoil everyone’s going through. 

“You are the free radical. The outlier,” Kamski verbalizes your thoughts. “You were the spark of chaos that was required to start the revolution.”

“I didn’t want to start the revolution,” you say. Your voice is softer and more shaky than you’d like it to be. There’s a burning in the back of your throat. “I just… I just wanted to solve the case that was assigned to me.”

“But you did.” Kamski stands, then starts walking towards the exit, as does Chloe. “You are the deviant android that infected others. The others you infected started a revolution. There are no two ways about it.”

“I want to go home,” you manage.

“Chloe,” he says. “Get Connor.”

There’s a door opening, then rushed footsteps as someone comes to your bedside. You look over. It’s Connor. His LED is stuck on red. 

“Officer?” He says. His soft, brown eyes search yours, lingering on the hot tears that swell at your waterline. Your bottom lip trembles. 

Connor immediately sweeps you into a hug – one unlike the one you’d shared back at the station. This one is firm, bordering on desperate as he clutches at the back of your shirt. He rests his forehead in the crook of your shoulder and lets out a shuddering exhale.

“Officer,” he says softly. “Officer, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” You say. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I didn’t do a good enough job of protecting you,” he says. “You got shot. I… I failed my mission. And I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.”

You exhale shakily and lean your head against Connor’s. His hair tickles the side of your nose. Tears slip from your eyes, and there’s a lump in your throat that makes it hard to talk. “Don’t be. We were… we were both being stupid.”

“The revolution is still going,” Connor says. “Markus has instructed me to wake up the thousands of androids housed at the CyberLife assembly plant. I want you to come with me.”

“What?” You pull back and meet his eyes. “But that would be a suicide mission.”

“They’ll let us in,” he says, his voice full of conviction. “I’m an RK800, and you’re an android. We can act like we’re there for an emergency meeting.”

“You knew?” You snap. “You knew all along?”

“No!” Connor says, clutching you tighter. “Chloe told me. It explained everything. I couldn’t believe it at first, but… the evidence was too convincing, and it aligned with everything I had already learned about you.”

“Right,” you say. “Right. Obviously. I’m just…” You furrow your eyebrows and screw your eyes shut. “Everything’s a lot right now. And it seems like everything bad that’s happening in the world is happening to me.”

He draws you back into the hug, rubbing up and down your back. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, and you’re overwhelmed by a smell you only now recognize as Connor’s – clean, leather, and a hint of something else.

After a few minutes, you sigh and squeeze around his middle. “Okay. I’m ready to go.”

“Are you sure?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” you mumble back. “Let’s go before I realize how stupid this is.”

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive (Daily updates!)

By Stephani Sutherland

Gentle nasal spray vaccines against COVID, the flu and RSV are coming. They may work better than shots in the arm

Alyson Velasquez hates needles. She never liked getting shots as a kid, and her anxiety only grew as she got older. “It really ballooned in my teens and early 20s,” she says. “It became a full-blown phobia.” She would panic at the sight of a needle being brought into an exam room; more than once she passed out. Velasquez says that she took an antianxiety medication before one appointment yet still ran around the room screaming inconsolably “like I was a small child; I was 22.” After that episode Velasquez, now a 34-year-old financial planner in southern California, quit needles completely. “No vaccinations, no bloodwork. For all of my 20s it was a no-go for me,” she says.

Then COVID showed up. “It finally hit a point where it wasn’t just about me,” Velasquez says. “It felt so selfish not to do this for the greater public health and the safety of our global community.” So she got vaccinated against the SARS-CoV-2 virus in 2021, although she had to sit on her husband’s lap while he held her arms. “It was a spectacle. The poor guy at CVS ... he did ask me, ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’” She very much did. “I’m very pro-vaccine. I am a rational human. I understand the necessity of [getting] them,” she insists. But today she still struggles with each injection.

Those struggles would end, however, if all her future vaccinations could be delivered by a nasal spray. “Oh, my God, amazing!” Velasquez says.

The amazing appears to be well on its way. Vaccines delivered through the nose are now being tested for several diseases. In the U.S., early clinical trials are showing success. Two of these vaccines have generated multiple immune system responses against the COVID-causing virus in people who received them through a puff up the nose; earlier this year their makers received nearly $20 million from Project NextGen, the Biden-Harris administration’s COVID medical initiative. Researchers are optimistic that a nasal spray delivering a COVID vaccine could be ready for the U.S. as soon as 2027. Although recent efforts have focused on inoculations against SARS-CoV-2, nasal vaccines could also protect us against the flu, respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), and more.

A few nasal vaccines have been introduced in the past, but they’ve been beset by problems. The flu inoculation FluMist has not gained popularity because of debates about its effectiveness, and a different vaccine was pulled from the market decades ago because some people had serious side effects. In China and India, nasal vaccines for COVID have been approved because those countries prioritized their development during the pandemic, whereas the U.S. and other wealthy nations opted to stick with arm injections. But this new crop of vaccines takes advantage of technology that produces stronger immune responses and is safer than preparations used in the past.

In fact, immunologists say these spritzes up the nose—or inhaled puffs through the mouth—can provide faster, stronger protection against respiratory viruses than a shot in the arm. That is because the new vaccines activate a branch of the immune system that has evolved for robust, rapid responses against airborne germs. “It may be more likely to really prevent infection from getting established,” says Fiona Smaill, an infectious disease researcher at McMaster University in Ontario. Such inoculations may also help reduce the enormous inequities in vaccine access revealed by the pandemic. These formulations should be cheaper and easier to transport to poor regions than current shots.

But nasal vaccines still face technical hurdles, such as how best to deliver them into the body. And unlike injected vaccines, which scientists can measure immune responses to with blood tests alone, testing for immunity that starts in nose cells is more challenging. But researchers working in this field agree that despite the hurdles, nasal formulations are the next step in vaccine evolution.

Traditional vaccines injected through the skin and into an arm muscle provide excellent protection against viruses. They coax immune cells into making widely circulated antibodies—special proteins that recognize specific structural features on viruses or other invading pathogens, glom on to them and mark them for destruction. Other immune cells retain a “memory” of that pathogen for future encounters.

Intramuscular injection vaccines are good at preventing a disease from spreading, but they do not stop the initial infection. A nasal spray does a much better job. That’s because sprays are aimed directly at the spot where many viruses first enter the body: the nose and the tissue that lines it, called the mucosa.

Mucosa makes up much of our bodies’ internal surfaces, stretching from the nose, mouth and throat down the respiratory tract to the lungs, through the gastrointestinal tract to the anus, and into the urogenital tract. Mucosa is where our bodies encounter the vast majority of pathogenic threats, Smaill says, be it flu, COVID, or bacterial infections that attack the gut. This tough, triple-layered tissue is specialized to fight off invaders with its thick coating of secretory goo—mucus—and with a cadre of resident immune cells waiting to attack. “Mucosa is really the first line of defense against any infection we’re exposed to,” Smaill says.

Mucosal immunity not only prepares the immune system for the fight where it occurs but also offers three different types of protection—at least one more than a shot does. Nasal vaccines and shots both mobilize immune messenger cells, which gather the interlopers’ proteins and display them on their surfaces. These cells head to the lymph nodes, where they show off their captured prize to B and T cells, which are members of another part of the immune system called the adaptive arm. B cells, in turn, produce antibodies, molecules that home in on the foreign proteins and flag their owners—the invading microbes—for destruction. Killer T cells directly attack infected cells, eliminating them and the microbes inside. This provides broad protection, but it takes time, during which the virus continues to replicate and spread.

That’s why a second type of protection, offered only by the mucosal tissue, is so important. The mucosa holds cells of the innate immune system, which are the body’s “first responders.” Some of these cells, called macrophages, recognize invasive microbes as foreign and swallow them up. They also trigger inflammation—an alarm sounded to recruit more immune cells.

Another part of this localized response is called tissue-resident immunity. These cells don’t have to detect telltale signs of a pathogen and make a long journey to the infected tissue. They are more like a Special Forces unit dropped behind enemy lines where a skirmish is occurring rather than waiting for the proverbial cavalry to arrive. This localized reaction can be quite potent. Its activation is notoriously difficult to demonstrate, however, so historically it’s been hard for vaccine makers to show they’ve hit the mark. But it turns out that one type of antibody, called IgA, is a good indicator of mucosal immunity because IgAs tend to predominate in the mucosa rather than other parts of the body. In an early trial of CoviLiv, a nasal COVID vaccine produced by Codagenix, about half of participants had detectable IgA responses within several weeks after receiving two doses. That trial also showed the vaccine was safe and led to NextGen funding for a larger trial of the vaccine’s efficacy.

It’s possible an inhaled vaccine may provide yet one more layer of protection, called trained innate immunity. This reaction is a bit of a mystery: although immunologists know it exists and appears also to be produced by intramuscular injections, they can’t quite explain how it works. Immune cells associated with trained innate immunity seem to have memorylike responses, reacting quickly against subsequent infections. They also have been found to respond against pathogens entirely unrelated to the intended vaccine target. Smaill and her colleagues found that when they immunized mice with an inhaled tuberculosis vaccine and then challenged them with pneumococcal bacteria, the mice were protected. In children, there is some evidence that a tuberculosis vaccine, in the arm, generates this type of broad response against other diseases.

Akiko Iwasaki, an immunologist at Yale University who is working to develop a nasal vaccination for COVID, sees two major potential benefits to nasal immunity in addition to better, faster, more localized protection. First, attacking the virus in the nose could prevent the disease from being transmitted to others by reducing the amount of virus that people breathe out. And second, Iwasaki says, the spray may limit how deeply the infection moves into the body, so “we believe that it will also prevent long COVID.” That debilitating postinfection condition, sometimes marked by signs of entrenched viral particles, disables people with extreme fatigue, chronic pain, a variety of cognitive difficulties, and other symptoms.

Making a new vaccine is hard, regardless of how you administer it. It needs to raise an immune response that’s strong enough to protect against future invasions but not so strong that the components of that response—such as inflammation and fever—harm the host.

The lining of the nose puts up its own barriers—literal, physical ones. Because the nasal mucosa is exposed to so many irritants from the air, ranging from pet hair to pollen, the nose has multiple lines of defense against invading pathogens. Nostril hair, mucus, and features called cilia that sweep the nasal surface all aim to trap small foreign objects before they can get deeper into the body—and that includes tiny droplets of vaccine.

And lots of small foreign particles—often harmless—still make it through those defenses. So the nose has developed a way to become less reactive to harmless objects. This dampened reactivity is called immunological tolerance, and it may be the biggest hurdle to successful development of a nasal vaccine. When foreign particles show up in the bloodstream, a space that is ostensibly sterile, immune cells immediately recognize them as invaders. But mucosal surfaces are constantly bombarded by both pathogens and harmless materials. The immune system uses tolerance—a complex series of decisions carried out by specialized cells—to determine whether a substance is harmful. “This is very important because we can’t have our lungs or gastrointestinal tract always responding to nonharmful foreign entities that they encounter,” says Yale infectious disease researcher Benjamin Goldman-Israelow. For example, inflammation in the lungs would make it hard to breathe; in the gut, it would prevent the absorption of water and nutrients.

These barriers may hamper the effectiveness of a nasal flu vaccine that’s been around for a while, called FluMist in the U.S. and Fluenz in Europe. The inoculation is safe, says infectious disease scientist Michael Diamond of Washington University in St. Louis, but it faces a similar problem as do injected flu vaccines: it isn’t very effective at warding off new seasonal flu strains. This might be because flu strains are so common, and people are frequently infected by the time they are adults. Their immune systems are already primed to recognize and destroy familiar flu particles. FluMist is built from a live flu virus, so immune cells probably treat the vaccine as an invader and demolish it as soon as it shows up in the nose, before it has a chance to do any good. This preexisting immunity isn’t such an issue in children, who are less likely to have had multiple flu infections. Nasal flu vaccines are routinely used to inoculate kids in Europe.

In other vaccines, researchers often use adjuvants, special agents that attract the attention of immune cells, to boost a response. Some nasal vaccines use adjuvants to overcome tolerance, but in the nose, adjuvants can pose unique dangers. In at least one case, a nasal adjuvant led to disastrous consequences. An intranasal vaccine for influenza, licensed in Switzerland for the 2000–2001 season, used a toxin isolated from Escherichia coli bacteria as an adjuvant to provoke a reaction to the inactivated virus. No serious side effects were reported during the trial period, but once the vaccine was released, Swiss officials saw a concerning uptick in cases of Bell’s palsy, a disease that causes weakness or paralysis of the facial muscles, often leading to a drooping or disfigured face. Researchers at the University of Zurich estimated that the adjuvanted flu vaccine had increased the risk of contracting Bell’s palsy by about 20 times, and the vaccine was discontinued. “We need to be cautious about using adjuvants like that from known pathogens,” says pharmaceutical formulations scientist Vicky Kett of Queen’s University Belfast in Northern Ireland.

To get around the challenges posed by the nose, some researchers are exploring vaccines inhaled through the mouth. Smaill is working on one of them. She and her McMaster colleagues aerosolized their vaccine for COVID into a fine mist delivered by a nebulizer, from which it rapidly reaches the lungs. Experiments in mice have shown promising results, with mucosal immunity established after administration of the vaccine.

Another vaccine strategy is to use a harmless virus to carry viral genes or proteins. Researchers at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York City selected a bird pathogen, Newcastle disease virus (NDV). “It’s naturally a respiratory pathogen,” so it infects nasal cells, says Michael Egan, CEO and chief scientific officer of CastleVax, a company that formed to develop the NDV vaccine for COVID. A small early clinical trial showed the CastleVax vaccine was safe and caused robust immune responses in people. “Those results were very promising,” Egan says. People who received the vaccine also produced antibodies that indicated multitiered mucosal immunity, not simply the adaptive immunity from a shot in the arm.

Following that trial, the CastleVax project received NextGen funding, and results from a trial of 10,000 people are expected in 2026. Half of those people will receive a messenger RNA (mRNA) injection, and half will get the new NDV nasal spray. The data should show whether the new nasal vaccine can do a better job of preventing infection than the mRNA injections. Egan has high hopes. “We’re expecting to see a lot fewer breakthrough infections in people who got the vaccine up the nose by virtue of having those mucosal immune responses,” he says.

Florian Krammer, one of the Mount Sinai researchers behind the vaccine, engineered NDV particles to display a stabilized version of the spike protein that’s so prominent in SARS-CoV-2. “You end up with a particle that’s covered with spike,” he says. Spike protein in the blood­stream can raise an immune response. But the NDV vaccine works in another way, too. The virus particle can also get into cells, where it can replicate enough times to cause virus particles to emerge from the cells, provoking another immune reaction. Before moving into human trials, however, researchers had to complete clinical trials to establish that the Newcastle virus is truly harmless because the nose is close to the central nervous system—it has neurons that connect to the olfactory bulb, which is part of the brain. Those trials confirmed that it is safe for this use.

Nasal sprays aim directly at the spot where most viruses first enter the body: the nose. This type of caution is one reason a COVID nasal vaccine approved in India hasn’t been adopted by the U.S. or other countries. The inoculation, called iNCOVACC, uses a harmless simian adenovirus to carry the spike protein into the airway. The research originated in the laboratories of Diamond and some of his colleagues at Washington University at the start of the pandemic, when they tested the formulation on rodents and nonhuman primates. “The preclinical data were outstanding,” Diamond says. Around the time he and his colleagues published initial animal results in Cell in 2020, Bharat Biotech in India licensed the idea from the university. In a 2023 phase 3 clinical trial in India, the nasal vaccine produced superior systemic immunity compared with a shot.

Diamond says American drug companies didn’t pursue this approach, because “they wanted to use known quantities,” such as the mRNA vaccines, which were already proving themselves in clinical trials in 2020. As the pandemic took hold, there was little appetite to develop nasal vaccine technology to stimulate mucosal immunity while the tried-and-true route of shots in the arm was available and working. But now, four years later, an inhaled vaccine using technology similar to iNCOVACC’s is being developed for approval in the U.S. by biotech company Ocugen. Both inhaled and nasal forms of the vaccine are set to undergo clinical trials as part of Project NextGen. These new vaccines are using classical vaccine methods based on the virus rather than using new, mRNA-based technology. The mRNA preparations were developed specifically for intramuscular injections and would have to be significantly modified.

Codagenix, which is developing CoviLiv, sidestepped the need for a new viral vector or an adjuvant by disabling a live SARS-CoV-2 virus. To make it safe, scientists engineered a version of the virus with 283 mutations, alterations to its genetic code that make it hard for the virus to replicate and harm the body. Without all these genetic changes, there would be a chance the virus could revert to a dangerous, pathogenic form. But with hundreds of key mutations, “statistically, it’s basically impossible that this will revert back to a live virus in the population,” says Johanna Kaufmann, who helped to develop the vaccine before leaving Codagenix for another company earlier this year.

Because most people on the planet have now been exposed to SARS-CoV-2—in the same way they’re regularly exposed to the flu—some nasal vaccines are being designed as boosters for a preexisting immune response that is starting to wane. For example, Yale researchers Iwasaki and Goldman-Israelow are pursuing a strategy in animals deemed “prime and spike.”

The idea is to start with a vaccine injection—the “prime” that stimulates adaptive immunity—then follow it a few weeks later with a nasal puff that “spikes” the system with more viral protein, leading to mucosal immunity. In a study published in 2022 in Science, Iwasaki and her colleagues reported that they primed rodents with the mRNA vaccine developed by Pfizer and BioNTech, the same shot so many of us have received. Two weeks later some of the mice received an intranasal puff of saline containing a fragment of the SARS-CoV-2 spike protein. Because the animals had some preexisting immunity from the shot, the researchers didn’t add any adjuvants to heighten the effects of the nasal puff. Two weeks later researchers detected stronger signs of mucosal immunity in mice that had received this treatment compared with mice that got only the shot.

“Not only can we establish tissue-resident memory T cells” to fight off the virus in the nose, Iwasaki says, but the prime-and-spike method also produces those vigorous IgA antibodies in the mucosal layer. “And that’s much more advantageous because we can prevent the virus from ever infecting the host,” she notes. The study suggests that this approach might also lessen the chances of transmitting the disease to others because of the lower overall viral load. Experiments in hamsters demonstrated that vaccinated animals shed less virus, and they were less likely to contract COVID from infected cage mates that had not been vaccinated themselves.

Although most of the new vaccine strategies are aimed at COVID, nasal vaccines for other diseases are already being planned. Kaufmann, formerly of Codagenix, says the company currently has clinical trials underway for nasal vaccines against flu and RSV. CastleVax’s Egan says “we have plans to address other pathogens” such as RSV and human metapneumovirus, another leading cause of respiratory disease in kids.

Vaccines that don’t need to be injected could clear many barriers to vaccine access worldwide. “We saw with COVID there was no vaccine equity,” Smaill says. Many people in low-income countries never received a shot; they are still going without one four years after the vaccines debuted.

In part, this inequity is a consequence of the high cost of delivering a vaccine that needs to stay frozen on a long journey from manufacturing facilities in wealthy countries. Some of the nasal sprays in development don’t need deep-cold storage, so they might be easier to store and transport. And a nasal spray or an inhaled puff would be much easier to administer than a shot. No health professional is required, so people could spray it into their noses or mouths at home.

For these reasons, needle-free delivery matters to the World Health Organization. The WHO is using the Codagenix nasal spray in its Solidarity Trial Vaccines program to improve vaccine equity. The CoviLiv spray is now in phase 3 clinical trials around the world as part of this effort. “The fact that the WHO was still interested in a primary vaccination trial in the geographies it’s passionate about—that’s indicative that there is still a gap,” Kaufmann says. CoviLiv was co-developed with the Serum Institute of India, the world’s largest maker of vaccines by dose. The partnership enabled production at the high volume required for Solidarity.

The CastleVax vaccine with the NDV vector provides another layer of equity because the facilities required to make it already exist in many low- and middle-income countries. “The cool thing is that NDV is a chicken virus, so it grows very well in embryonated eggs—that’s exactly the system used for making flu vaccines,” Krammer says. For example, for a clinical trial in Thailand, “we just shipped them the seed virus, and then they produced the vaccine and ran the clinical trials,” he says. Many countries around the world have similar facilities, so they will not need to depend on pharma companies based in richer places.

Even high-income countries face barriers to vaccination, although they may be more personal than systemic. For very many people, the needle itself is the problem. Extreme phobia such as Velasquez’s is uncommon, but many people have a general fear of needles that makes vaccinations stressful or even impossible for them. For about one in 10 people needle-related fear or pain is a barrier to vaccinations, says C. Meghan McMurtry, a psychologist at the University of Guelph in Ontario. Needle fear “is present in most young kids and in about half of adolescents. And 20 to 30 percent of adults have some level of fear.” A review of studies of children showed that “concern around pain and needle fear are barriers to vaccination in about 8 percent of the general population and about 18 percent in the vaccine-hesitant population,” McMurtry adds.

Some people are wary of injected vaccines even if they’re not afraid of needles, Kett says; they see injections as too invasive even if the needle doesn’t bother them. “We’re hopeful that something administered by the nasal route would be less likely to come across some of those issues,” Kett says.

In the U.S., however, sprays and puffs won’t be available until they are approved by the Food and Drug Administration, which requires clear evidence of disease protection. As Diamond points out, standards for such evidence are well established for injections, and vaccine makers can follow the rule book: regulations point to particular antibodies and specific ways to measure them with a simple blood test. But for nasal vaccines, Iwasaki says, “we don’t have a standard way to collect nasal mucus or measure antibody titers. All these practical issues have not been worked out.”

Iwasaki is also frustrated with a restriction by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that stops researchers from using existing COVID vaccines in basic research to develop new nasal sprays. The rule is a holdover from 2020, when COVID injections had just been developed and were in short supply; people had to wait to get vaccinated until they were eligible based on factors such as age and preexisting conditions. “That made sense back then, but those concerns are years old; things are different now,” Iwasaki says. “Now we have excess vaccine being thrown out, and we cannot even get access to the waste, the expired vaccine.”

Today scientists want to contrast the effectiveness of nasal formulations with injections already in use. “Those comparisons are really important for convincing the FDA that this is a worthy vaccine to pursue,” Iwasaki says. But the restriction has held up studies by her company, Xanadu, slowing down work. (The CDC did not respond to a request for comment.)

Despite the bureaucratic and scientific hurdles, the sheer number of nasal vaccines now in clinical trials encourages Iwasaki and other scientists pursuing the needle-free route. They say it seems like only a matter of time before getting vaccinated will be as simple as a spritz up the nose.

Velasquez, for one, can’t wait for that day to arrive. The circumstances that finally forced her to reckon with her fear of needles (a global pandemic, the prospect of parenthood and the numerous blood tests that accompanied her pregnancy) were so much bigger than her. If not for them, she might still be avoiding shots. “So having vaccines without needles—I would get every vaccine any doctor wanted me to get, ever. It would be a complete game changer for me.”

[iwannascreameurekaa]

pjo characters as quotes from my classmates, parents, siblings, and grandparents.

Yipee

Will: "does anybody need the heim-ill-ick?”

Hazel (prob to Nico): “i’ve never smoked… EVER. and if you smoke, i’ll hit you.”

Percy: “he looks like a street person?”

Leo: “i thought i got salt and pepper, turns out it was salt and salt.”

Piper: “i’ve never been attached to a cat.”  

Hazel: “The power of INTERNET👹”

Frank: “that was rude.” 

Percy: “every cat that doesn’t have a tail is named bobby.”

Piper: “just put your coins in your bucket.”

Jason: “if i was barbie, my feet would hurt all the time”

Nico: “it’s giving me skin cancer as we speak.”

Hazel: “she told me to give her when i die so i thought i might as well give it to her now.”

Piper: “did you steal my brush again? quit stealing my brush you little brush thief!”

Percy: “you’ve got 4 of grandma!”

Leo: “i’m a heavy drinker today” *takes a sip of his fourth glass of water*

Annabeth: “you squeezed her so hard she dropped a cheerio.” 

Leo: “and thoust asked if Jason was a cracker(a white person) and Jason replied”no i’m at least 2 or 3 whole crackers since there’s quite a bit more of me than you”

Hazel: "ohhhh my goodness don’t put your feet in her face.”

Leo talking about Piper: "she is a luddite, against technology, close with the Amish community."

Piper looking Leo and Jason directly in the eyes: “no dying allowed in here”

Percy after TOA: “if somebody wants to steal my car, i want them to steal it! not come in my house, shoot me, take my keys, and then take the car. LET ME SLEEP I DONT CARE!”

Will: “me and Nico go on dates to funeral homes”

Hazel: “you have a problem with a joint?” She was talking about her elbow 😭

Leo: “if i get hungry, rats will get skinned.”

Piper: “if this truck goes any slower it’ll have to put out a mailbox.”

Annabeth: “oh you stepped on the cow? well it’s better than the cow stepping on you”

Frank: “and it just sucked the carpet right up”

Hazel "back in my day" Levesque: “i had a lot of beagles when i was young, and finally i had one that lived.”

Leo: “are you looking for regular markies?”

Jason: “i’m gonna go to work tomorrow with a hangover.”

Will: “i’m not very artistic(autistic)”

Jason: “i never added salt to the pepper”

Piper: “keep your toes to yourself”

Piper: “you guys are an embarrassment.”

Jason: "can you pass the salt? i like my stuff salty”

Will: "The only Christian song I know is let it go" 

Context for the next one: my friend had a slick back high pony tail when we had this conversation so that gives you a visual of what Piper was

Leo "what's your next album gonna be called?"

Piper: "'my hair is straighter than my friend'."

Leo: 😦

Piper: "What in the gay man!"

Hazel: "If you stop being a karen then maybe you would actually be successful at life"

Piper: "You should start day dreaming about getting a husband"

Annabeth: "George Washington is the off brand version of me"

Hazel: "Ideas were such good ideas they became the symbol for ideas"

Leo: "did you mean lightbulbs"

Hazel: "..... yes"

Piper: "There's a fly on your butt" *waves at it and it flies away* "that's not your property sir"

Leo: "Yeah you gotta pay for that"

Nico: "Does he have a speech impediment?" 

Will: "He has a brain impediment"

Jason: "I bet he was having Funtime"

Piper: "why do you always say Funtime"

Jason: "I'm not saying sex!"

Leo prob to his tool belt: *suggestive voice* "give me that minty mint"

Leo to Hazel, who doesn't know what any modern slang means: "check it homeslice"

Hazel: "the gambling may run in the family, but at least pokers fun!"

Leo: "im a turkey... cock cock!"

that's all I have rn lmao

[musicloverxoxo7]

BTS reactions – the first kiss

BTS   x   reader

Summary: You kiss each other for the first time.

Themes/warnings: fluff with hints towards mature content, kissing, mention of alcohol

Wordcount: ca. 690 words

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

Jin:

You’re visit Jin at his place and cooking together, as you have done a lot of times before. You’ve been friends for a while, after all.

When you turn around to grab a few more veggies to cut, Jin suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you a little closer to him. He looks down at you. You are like frozen. His lips touch yours for a heartbeat. He withdraws and looks at you. When you start to smile, he leans down for a longer and much more intense kiss.

Yoongi:

Yoongi never misses how you look at his mouth when he raps. Or when he licks his lips. You work with him, so you get to see him rap a lot.

One day, when he practices a rap before going into the booth to record it, you keep glancing at his lips and away again. You can hardly focus on your work. Yoongi, who is sitting facing you, reaches out his hand and tilts your chin upwards.

He moves in closer, giving you time to change your mind. But you don’t. His lips feel so soft against yours. Until you both open your mouths and you get a taste of the infamous tongue technology.

Hobi:

You’re helping Hobi sort through some old clothes and whether to give them away or keep them. Occasionally, you try on some of the clothes or accessories. His hats all look weird on your smaller head, and he laughs.

At some point, Hobi finds a bright red scarf. He slings it around your neck and pulls you closer with it. You glance from his eyes to his lips and back. Hobi smiles before pulling you in the last little bit and kissing you.

Namjoon:

Namjoon and you are drinking and chatting. Neither of you has had nearly enough alcohol to blame it on that that Namjoon is suddenly holding your hand. You both ignore the fact and keep chatting.

Until Namjoon keeps losing his thread while talking about one of his recent favorite books. The reason is that you keep biting your lips. Namjoon stops mid-sentence, leans forward and places his lips on yours. It only takes a moment of shock before you return the kiss. You stand up to meet him halfway. Next thing you know you’re sitting on his lap, making out.

Jimin:

While visiting Jimin, you get dry lips and get out your chapstick. You apply it while listening to Jimin talk about how his week has been. His eyes are not on yours though, but on your lips.

When you ask him if he wants some chapstick too, he smiles in a way that gives you goosebumps of the good kind. He affirms, gets up, leans forward and kisses you. When he withdraws again his pupils are so big, they make his eyes look completely black.

“Mh, not enough chapstick yet.”

You smile as he comes back for another kiss.

Tae:

Tae and you are playing with Yeontan. At some point you let Yeontan play alone with his toy, while on leash and sit down on a bench. After a few moments Tae’s arm goes around your shoulder.

Soon, he scootches closer to you. When you look at him, he looks caught. But then he turns on his charms full blast. You’re kissing him before you know what you’re doing. Tae entangles his hand in your hair and deepens the kiss.

JK:

You always have fun when you practice fighting with JK. He’s much stronger and skilled, so it usually ends with you pinned to the ground, incapacitated. But today, after a few rounds, you take off your shirt and reveal your sports bra underneath. JK is distracted enough for a few seconds for you to gain the upper hand.

When you pin him to the ground, he is surprised, but laughs seconds later. He looks so cute, crinkling his nose, that you lean down and lightly kiss him.

After you break apart, you both look surprised. Until JK uses the situation to roll you around until you are pinned under him. The kiss he initiates is much less cute.

Question: Who is your bias?

© musicloverxoxo7, 2023

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work. Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 7

The Terran, as it proved, seemed to become more and more talkative every cycle. I did sight her in the meal hall today, as she sat on the surface of one of the tables, rather then on one of the stools surrounding it.

She seemed to be conserving rather animatedly with Wrin, who was still relatively clear-headed, for their standards. Quinn must have said something that caused a rather strong reaction in Wrin, if the sudden change of their complexion from its natural dark blue shade into a bright pink and back was any indicator.

I had spent the rest of the last cycle studying the previous entries to determine whether or not the human seemed to have any clue about my task of observing her. I came to the conclusion that, up to this point, the human had not signaled any discomfort due to suspicious behaviour, but I certainly should continue to be careful and not try to appear threatening or dubious.

I retrieved the human and proceeded to carry out the tasks at hand. It was relatively silent in the main control room for a while, until the human put down her current tools with much more force than needed, possibly signaling anger.

"Y‘know, I ain‘t trying to be rude, but this is really boring.", she spoke up.

My front pliers rattled in concern. "Are you…underwhelmed by your work?" This statement seemed completely illogical to me, but alas, I could not come up with another interpretation of the words she had uttered.

"I mean, no, but…yeah? I‘m not trying to say that its underwhelming, it‘s just…like, I‘m on a goddamn alien spaceship, y‘know? And I get to work with all this crazy alien technology, and that‘s amazing! But, once you‘ve figured out how it works, it just keeps working like that and everything‘s doing exactly what it‘s supposed to be doing and there‘s no real challenge behind it, y‘know." She had begun to wave her hands around in a manner which purpose I could not discern.

I remained silent for a while, processing the enormous amount of information that the human had just verbalized. No real challenge? What was that even supposed to convey? 

"I am not quite certain if I understood your complaint correctly. You are…upset due to…understanding the technology?"

"No! It‘s not that, just…you know, humans like challenges. We like to solve unsolvable things. For some, it‘s even a hobby. We need to challenge our mind and brain for it to develop. So, if we are faced with a kind of monotonous situation, we get bored."

I blinked. Were human brains really that much more complex than I had previously deemed?

I was not certain what would be an appropriate answer to such a revelation, so I said: "I regret that your mind is unchallenged by the work that has been assigned to you, but I fear I have no say in the matter. It is the Vitrichl‘s wish."

"I‘m not asking for a different job. I quite like where I am right now. I‘m just asking you if I can do something besides just standing here all day long. I was raised to use my hands. I can run errands and repair stuff and I‘m good at making adjustments and figuring out what is wrong with a machine. I can do that!"

I contemplated the suggestion for a while. I would not go against the Vitrichl‘s wishes, and right now, the ship was running smoothly, apart the two leaks in close proximity to each other. I attempted  to think of something "more challenging" for the human to be tasked with. As nothing came into the front of my mind, I consulted V-7.

"V-7, are there any machines in need of a reparation that could be performed by the human?"

The human jumped in distress as the AI answered after scanning the ship. 

"The engines in sector 3 seem to be in need for a routine check-up."

"Holy shit, it can talk?!", the human spoke up, causing me to turn in it‘s direction. The humans complexion seemed to be even lighter than its natural shade, although it tended to be the most extreme around, what I assumed was, her nose (a protuberance placed in the middle of its face, seemingly a bone structure covered with skin, with two holes at the bottom facing the ground, perhaps nostrils).

I blinked once more. I could not determine what a "holy shit" was supposed to be, so I simply decided on answering the human‘s question. "Yes. "It" is called V-7, an artificial assitant integrated into the ship.", I informed her.

"There seem to be engines in sector 3 that you could examine."

The Terran made movement with her hand, swinging it from her body towards the door, seemingly indicating for me to take her to the location. "Lead the way." 

I guided the human to the aforementioned sector and instructed her on the proper routine check-up etiquette.

I observed her method for a matter of time before deeming it safe enough to leave the premises. In the main control room, I continued to observe the human over a video recording V-7  displayed, until another problem required my attention.

Once I am given the opportunity to watch the full tape, any further observations will be recorded here.

[dreamwatch]

Computer Love

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #22 - Prompt: Alternate Universe | Word Count: 995 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Steve | Pairing: pre-Steddie| Tags: IT Crowd AU, banter, my attempt at humour,

Ok, I wasn't going to write for today, but I was sitting on a work call and it made me think of the IT Crowd and that made me think of our beloved idiots. And honestly, I've been writing so much angst I thought I should try and redress the balance!

Steve wasn’t exactly over the moon about working for his dad, but one failed retail job after another and a few unpaid bills is all it took to have him crawling back to Harrington Senior. He didn’t want to be an office gopher, or work in the mail room, not at his age, but he’d suck it up.

Head of IT. His dad was making him Head of IT.

So far he’s told two friends. Robin, who stared at him like he had two heads before saying “Is he joking? Is it— is it like an April Fools thing?” And Dustin who was even less polite:

“What the fuck do you know about information technology?”

“Is that what it stands for?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.”

He heads to the bank of elevators looking for his department. Harrington Industries is spread over twenty floors. He wonders if he’ll get a corner office. God the views… 

Steve runs his fingers down the list until he finds IT. Basement. No view then. Shit.

He exits the elevator into a dingy hallway, discarded PCs and printers stacked everywhere, and trips over a cable almost immediately.

Finally he finds his department. And… well…

Fuck.

Yeah. It’s all making sense now.

It looks like a frat house. There are two guys on a ratty couch playing video games, and another two at desks; one mop top making cat memes, and an admittedly cute guy with long hair with his feet up on his desk. There are phones ringing and no one seems bothered by them, until eventually Long Hair lets out an exasperated sigh and picks up.

“IT Support, have you tried turning it off and on again? Uh huh. Yeah it’s the button on the front of the… yup, big grey button… can’t miss it… you know what, let me send someone up. What’s your floor? Uh huh, and name? Melanie. Melanie in Marketing. Well, I’m going to be sending my best guy up—“

And, finally someone has noticed he’s there.

“Uh, he’s on his way, bye.” Long Hair drops the phone. “Guys, we have company.”

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he says, smiling at the four faces now firmly fixed on him. “I’m your new boss.”

“Not for long,” snarks one of the guys on the couch.

“Matty, be nice!” says Long Hair, and god he has beautiful eyes. Shit, fuck, no, don’t go there. “I’m Eddie, that’s Matt, who is just about to head up to Melanie on four—“

“Oh for fu—“

“—That’s Jeff sitting next to him,” Jeff raises a hand, “and this is Gareth.” Gareth just scowls at him.

Steve finally gets a good look at them all. Ratty band shirts and sneakers, ripped jeans, totally unprofessional, they look like they’re in a band not an office. He’s going to be making some serious changes around here.

“Well it’s good to meet you all,” he says and finally catches sight of a small office. He points at it, “Take it this is mine.”

“Sure is,” says Eddie. “We didn’t know exactly when you were coming so you’re not set up yet, but Jeff will get that done this afternoon for you.”

“Why this afternoon?”

Jeff stares at him like he has two heads. “It’s Minecraft Monday.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what that is.”

Eddie laughs. “It’s fine, I’ll come in a few minutes get you hooked up. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. Boss.” 

His office is small and cluttered with more junk, and definitely no window. God, this sucks. 

There’s a knock at the door and he turns to find Eddie leaning against the door frame, arms crossed against his chest. 

“How d’ya like the place?”

Steve runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face.

“Uh, yeah, it’s, you know…”

“A shit hole?”

“Yeah, a shit hole.”

“I take it Donny didn’t exactly fill you in on the details.”

Steve drops into the torn office chair. “Not really,” he sighs. “He has a habit of that.”

Eddie straightens up. “You’ve worked with him before?”

He laughs. “Better than that. He’s my dad.”

“Oh shit.”

Gareth barges in. “Wait, Donny the Dick is your Dad?”

“Donny the— hey, that’s—he’s the guy that pays your salary, a little respect.”

“Pretty sure that’s Karen in finance.”

“What…? You know, never mind. Point is, this department is a mess and there’s going to be some changes around here. Starting with the way you answer the phones, you can’t just tell people to turn the computers on and off—“

“—off and on,” Jeff cuts in.

“Whatever, you can’t do it. You need to ask what’s wrong.”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, we could, but the answer would still be to turn your PC off and on again so…”

Jeff and Gareth nod along like those stupid plastic toys. God, is it too late to go back to Family Video?

“Well, that’s as maybe, but for now you’re… ah, dismissed.”

He doesn’t miss Eddie’s amused smirk, as he gestures for his troops to leave. But then he’s perching himself on the edge of the desk, leaning into Steve’s space, those big brown eyes pinning him in his seat.

“So, just between us, you don’t actually know anything about IT, do you?”

“I mean… I know… uh, like mice, you know and uh… oh!” Steve snaps his fingers and points, triumphantly. “HTNL!”

Eddie’s biting his lip, god he has beautiful lips. “It’s HTML, but you were close. Do you do a lot of coding, Steve?”

He flops back in the chair, defeated. “Up until last week I was working in Family Video.”

“In their IT department?”

“No, in their ‘this is due back in two days department.’” He groans. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

Eddie laughs. “Don’t sweat it, you’ve got a lot more going for you than the last guy.”

“I have?”

“Oh yeah. At least you’re pretty,” he says with a wink.

Yeah, Steve’s totally screwed.

[sukisheadlights]

PROTECTIVE TENDANCIES!

tmrminho x wckd!oc

summary: she took care of him all these years in the maze. But will she be there for him when he needs her outside it?

story: maze runner masterlist

rory’s voice mail 🎧: Sooo I'm not that well versed in the lore (that is a sign for re-watch + re-read I know) either way I haven't made any mistakes as far as I'm aware of but incase I missed anything, let me know <3 love you, say it back!

SPOILERS AHEAD OBVIOUSLY

Sadira spins around in her chair as the dark blue light reflects off her glasses; before coming to an abrupt and screechy halt when she hears him yell through the computer screen. She quickly turns and looks over the multiple cctv screens around her in search of minho, until she finds him. Eventually. She messes around with some buttons around her until the 'griever' as the gladers called it, slows down. She sighs and leans against the chair having succesfully saved him the third time this week.

Sadira could confidentaly say that she was the youngest at w.c.k.d. She was 16. She could tell you alot of things, except for what she does in the abnormally technologically advanced building all day. There isn't exactly a job description for saving the asses of the friends you've made through a screen who don't know you even exist. Infact, that probably hinders the consistent experiements being thrown at these children who are her age, heck— some of them are even younger.

Sadira knows that the only reason she isn't in that maze is because she's the daughter of Dr. Ava Paige. I guess even being an adopted daughter has it's own advantages.

That's why she's so careful when she saves the lives of the gladers, if ava finds out both her and the reckless gladers she watched over are doomed. Boy this would be tough to explain if she met them in person, how would she even act around them? Thankfully she doesn't have to worry about that yet. Right?

When Ava turned her away and banished her from coming to w.c.k.d for 'safety reasons', Sadira was MORE than curious on what her 'mother' was hiding. So naturally, when she called her back urgently she ran through the multiple maze like hallways of the building in search of Ava like a mad woman. Maybe in her own way, w.c.k.d was her maze and cage too. just in a non-life threatening sense. for now.

She walks towards the prison cell looking holding room as she stands next to the woman she calls her mother not looking through the window just yet; she should have, maybe she could have ran instead of walking straight to her demise.

Instead she stared gaping mouth at the other girl who happened to step into her peripheral vision. "You remember teresa, yes?" Ava announced loudly, her words ringing colder than the white lights above their head. Sadira could only nod in response; who the hell was inside that room?

"Unfortunately my love, it would be unwise to get into details here. But teresa recently found her way back to w.c.k.d, back to us. And she has been working with us in your absence. It is with a full heart that I can tell you that you will be learning hands on how to talk to a test subject today. Do not worry child, rest assured, you will be safe." She spoke again as teresa walked away, her tone laced with something unfamiliar which, looking back— could have only been something poisonous. "Go on." she nudged again as Sadira walked into the plain white chamber which, looked even sadder from the inside.

She turned around as the door closed behind her and this, mystery inmate. Her heart dropped to her feet. It was him. He was here. Nonetheless, she approached slowly and sat down infront of him. He looked...Terrible.

"Hello," She said blandly, but internally she was nervous as ever. But if she showed it, Ava wouldn't let her talk to him again. How would she help him out then? She should probably slow down but the difference in his character was unsettling.

He didn't say anything in response and only watched her intently, or dazed. She remembered how his eyes looked in the maze, even if they were facing near death every second of the day. And then she noticed how dead they looked this very moment, when this was the one time in life he was truly protected. She looked towards the one-way mirror hoping she was looking directly at Ava. That's when he scoffed. "They can't save you in here."

She looked back at him, eyebrows raised and all. "What would I need saving from, Minho? You won't hurt me." She said confidentally, but not in the sense that she knew he wouldn't. Well, still in that sense but she only showed Ava what was on the surface. Confidence in the sense that she was hiding her fear.

Minho ofcourse, knows that even if he wanted to kill her this very second he would be unable to, considering the shitload of drugs he was put on. She's pretty, it's a shame she's on the wrong side of all of this, he thought.

"Don't wanna talk? that's alright. We'll get you to one of these days Minho. Time is on our side." the words spilled out of sadira's mouth leaving a bitter after-taste. she didn't like talking to him like this, but if she even let Ava catch on to the idea that sadira had...once grown fond of the boy infront of her? she would have lost her chance. for what exactly? she's not entirely sure herself.

silence engulfed the small white room as she watched the nervous bob of his adam's apple before promptly getting up and leaving.

That night, without much shock. She was kidnapped. "Oh, it's just you lot." she said calmly, looking at the faces of thomas, frypan, newt, and gally. All the idiots she saved multiple times. Well, except for frypan— he was always a sweetheart.

The point is, she wasn't intimidated. Instead she laughed when they tried to threaten her. Then, she asked them to untie her and much to everyone's surprise, they obliged.

Not wanting to leave them high and dry Sadira explained everything to them. How she saved their lives, How she knew them, How she saw teresa, And about how she spoke to Minho. She then warned them that as a 16 year old saving them to those small extents was all she could have done and that it would be unwise to redirect their anger from w.c.k.d to her simply because she knew.

She also agreed to get minho out, but that was a given. The only condition she set down was freedom from Dr. Ava Paige. Who she had the displeasure of calling her mother. They sat on the floor that night and all the gladers and Sadira in unison decided the best plan to get minho out of that hellhole. And they settled.

On Gameday, Sadira offered to walk with Janson and pointed out how something looked suspicious with teresa and her guards. Inevitablly, Janson approached the disguised gladers and it was there that they grabbed her as she sneakily snatched janson's all building access card. She was with them under the ruse of a hostage, just so that Ava doesn't get suspicious and look too closely.

When they found out Minho was moved, it was only because of Sadira and another test subject that they could pinpoint Minho's exact location.

However, she should have probably thought to warn him in some way that she was on their side. Maybe then Minho wouldn't have mistakened her for the enemy and slammed her into the wall once they did find him. ouch.

The escape after that was mostly smooth sailing, there were no losses and only minor setbacks. But those don't matter enough to be mentioned here. [Authors Note: I didn't have it in me to kill off newt so don't blame me] Ofcourse, Sadira almost dying while protecting minho doesn't fall under minor setbacks but she would have done that for any glader.

When she woke up in the 'refugee' a few days later, minho was the first person she spoke to. The conversation flowed much more smoothly when her formerly alive mother (that was fun to find out) wasn't watching over them, she joked. And he laughed. And she thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. So she made him do it again, and again, and again. Until she finally realised she couldn't get enough of it.

They moved fast. From touches, to kisses, to something more. But it was never in the sense that it was too much to handle, Instead it was in the sense that they had waited too long for each other and that they were desperate for this. Needy, even. Which was insane considering he barely knew her. Oh well.

First Kisses and First loves are obviously difficult post-apocalypse but hey, atleast it makes one hell of a story.