#can touch id be repaired

[ceyhanmedya]

Touch ID

New Post has been published on https://hazirbilgi.com/what-is-touch-id-how-does-it-work-what-are-its-features/

Touch ID

What is Touch ID? How does it work? What are its features?

Touch ID is Apple’s first attempt at biometric authentication with the iPhone. It was first introduced with the iPhone 5S home button, then implemented on iPads and the Mac Magic Keyboard. It’s still used as a proprietary form of biometrics on Macs, select iPad models, and iPhone SE.

Touch ID changed the way users authenticate on their devices. Before iPhone 5S, most users used their smartphones without any passcode or preferred 4-digit pins for passcode.

How Does Touch ID Work?

Touch ID works via sensors embedded in the finger pad on the home button on your device. When you touch the compartment with your finger, the steel ring sends a message to the sensor and the biometric details are read and recorded on your device.

Since each person’s fingerprint is different, the fingerprint that will be recognized by Touch ID after enrolling in the device is personal. Thanks to this fingerprint registration, settings such as purchase and application lock can be enabled.

Is Touch ID Secure?

There is no need to worry about your personal information because Apple has confirmed that they do not have access to this data. It is recommended by security experts as Touch ID will provide an additional level of security to your devices and data.

What are Touch ID Features?

Apple allows users to create fingerprint scans of up to five fingers per device. Touch ID relies on the same scanning technology and Secure Enclave data storage on every Apple device , regardless of shape or location .

Fingerprint Sensor

The fingerprint reader used in Apple products uses a sapphire crystal surface surrounded by a steel ring. The glass protects the components used to recognize the fingerprint underneath.

A high resolution image is captured using capacitive touch when a finger is detected. This image is converted to a numeric value and encrypted before passing into the Secure Enclave.

The final value produced by the sensor is compared to a value stored in the Secure Enclave. If it matches one of the stored values, the fingerprint is recognized and the device is unlocked.

Secure Enclave

Apple’s T2 Security chip is a 64-bit ARMv8 chipset running a separate operating system called bridgeOS 2.0. It handles the entire boot process, all encryption, audio processing, camera control and System Management Controller features using a custom AES hardware engine.

The Secure Enclave and the sensor have a shared key that is used to generate a session key that encrypts and authenticates the data. All data collected by the sensor is sent to the T2 Security chip using a special serial peripheral interface bus. The T2 chip then transmits this data to the Secure Enclave for processing.

The Secure Enclave is a coprocessor (or hardware-based key manager) that is physically in the application processor package. It operates in isolation from the system and communicates with the master chip using an interrupted “mailbox”. Because it is isolated and self-sustaining, it maintains its integrity even if the operating system is compromised.

The Secure Enclave transforms sensor-provided data into mathematical representations. Because the Secure Enclave’s 4MB of storage is only used for 256-bit elliptic curve private keys, these numbers are encrypted and stored in the file system.

The Secure Enclave stores the class key and processes all wrapped file keys that are never exposed to the main processor. The file system metadata key is encrypted using the Secure Enclave’s Hardware UID (Unique Identifier) ​​key on devices using the Apple File System. The chipset’s firmware encrypts all keys stored in the Secure Enclave.

Using Biometrics

Touch ID is used for not only unlocking a device but also more apps. 

For example, it is integrated into Apple’s operating systems for secure access to information and payments. Banking apps, secure messaging apps, and others have implemented this feature widely.

Models Using Touch ID

Models with 1st Generation Touch ID

iPhone 5S

iPhone SE

iPhone 6

iPhone 6 Plus

iPad Air 2

iPad mini 3

iPad mini 4

iPad Pro 12.9

iPad Pro 9.7

Models with 2nd Generation Touch ID

iPhone 6S

iPhone 6S Plus

iPhone 7

iPhone 7 Plus

MacBook Pro

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[fleastinger]

[toytle]

i don’t have a cat or a speedster, so the next best thing is projecting my fever onto hal so that at least one of us can have the comfort of barry’s healing frequencies. doctor’s orders

[alt text, ID + non-blurry versions below cut]

IMAGE ID:

1) Halbarry fanart of a sick Hal holding Barry for comfort. Hal’s face is red and slick with sweat and snot, scrunched in a self-pitying expression. He’s holding Barry to his chest while Barry vibrates as if purring. Barry has a sweet, close-eyed grin across his face as he touches Hal’s hand on his chest supportively. They’re sitting on a bed, the background colored in vibrant greens and lined in red.

2) Fanart of Halbarry as cats. Hal is a fluffy brown cat and Barry is a sleek yellow tabby, both referencing their respective human/hero designs in their fur patterns. A miserable-looking kitty Hal holds a purring Barry for comfort. Barry’s head is tucked underneath Hal’s chin, the tip of his tail supportively curled around Hal’s. They’re lying on a cat bed, the background colored in vibrant greens and lined in red.

3) Text ID: The frequency of cat purring has been shown to fall between 25 and 140 Hz. The same frequency has been shown to aid in the healing of broken bones, joint and tendon repair, and wound healing. A study by Dr Clinton Rubin and his team showed that bones of older sheep started showing signs of repair after being exposed to 30 Hz of vibrations for 20 minutes, five days a week. Similarly, in humans, vibrational therapy with a frequency between 10-50Hz has been found to not only benefit bone repair but also strengthen tendons and joints. In fact, vibration therapy uses whole-body vibration to enhance physical health and overall well-being. Cats' purrs are believed to have similar effects on the human body.

4) Halbarry fanart of a sick Hal holding Barry for comfort, alternate version without Barry’s blurred lines.

5) Fanart of Halbarry as cats, alternate version without Barry’s blurred lines.

[honey-crypt]

Imagine Elliott with a tattoo. Or a piercing that he got when he was a teenager.

Imagine this:

The farmer discovers Elliott's tongue piercing.

a/n: OK OK OK I KNOW THAT I SAID I WAS FOCUSING ON REQUESTS FOR MY WRITE-A-THON BUT I POSTED THE ONE FOR TODAY AND THIS MAKES MY BRAIN GO AWOOGA SOOOOO UHHH ENJOY :D (part of this refers this post of mine about elliott and his family)

warnings: elliott comitting identity fraud, suggestive ending

★ tongue tied - elliott x farmer ★

★ you would think a sweet, eloquent guy like elliott would have been a golden child growing up

★ WELL YOU'RE WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!

★ baby boy was a rebel, especially in his late teens

★ bro despised his parents' efforts to maintain a high-end image so he did what any rebellious teen would do: get pierced and tatted at a young, impressionable age

★ elliott had two piercings on each ear lobe, it took months of begging before his parents finally let him do it, so he was sure that getting a body piercing would be the same, right?

★ after getting a fake ID, elliott got into a piercing and tattooing shop without issue and stupidly requested to be pierced AND tatted at the same time

★ the shop owner wanted to deny his request but after being flashed a nice wad of cash, he agreed to it

★ after an hour of so of pain and regret, elliott walked out of the shop with a sore tongue and a pretty dove inked on his collar bone

★ fast forward to almost a decade later, elliott lives with both that tongue piercing and dove tattoo but has since obtained a half sleeve on his upper left arm of classical literary images

★ no one in town is really aware that elliott has tattoos or body piercings, he always wears long sleeves and the tongue piercing isn't noticeable unless you're directly peering into his mouth

★ now this is when you come in, quickly wooing the up and coming author with a basket of pomegranates and cheesy jokes, your whimsy and bright light sparking a flame in elliott's heart

★ he took you on a boat ride a few months after you moved into the valley, the old rowboat by his cabin finally repaired, hoping to confess his feelings in a private but beautiful setting

★ unfortunately, things don't go as planned, as you accidentally fall off the boat and into the chilly sea

★ elliott immediately dives in and pulls you out of the water, helping you back on the boat

★ the two of you share a laugh, as elliott removes his red overcoat from his body, his white dress shirt soaked and clinging to his skin

★ you could make his arm sleeve and collar tattoo, your face heating up at the sight; you didn't realize that elliott was into tattoos

★ he sees your flustered face and asks if you're okay, to which you ask him when he got his tattoos

★ "oh, it was years before i moved to town, my dear. my time as a teenage rebel and such."

★ elliott??? a rebel??? HOT

★ you manage to cool your face off just in time to ask elliott why he wanted you on the boat with him

★ baby boy uncharacteristically stumbles through his words, at one point you thought he didn't want to be friends with you anymore, and sighs in defeat before asking if he can show you what he wants from you

★ you nod and elliott leans forward, both your foreheads touching lightly against the other

★ "can i kiss you?" he whispers, cheeks as red as his hair

★ "yes" is your answer and he kisses you, his lips tasting of rich juicy pomegranates; you soon pull elliott closer to your body and deepen the kiss

★ the kiss goes from close-mouthed to open-mouthed, as the two of you make out

★ your tongue touches his and you pause, breaking the kiss

★ "you have a tongue piercing TOO?!"

★ elliott opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, revealing the gold metal ball, "another token of my rebellion, my love."

★ you french kiss him once more, running the tip of your tongue against his piercing, and pull back to reply, "i like uncovering these little surprises, elliott"

★ elliott can't help but blush and raise his eyebrows at you, "you do?"

★ you nod and peck him on the lips, "i can't wait to... uncover more"

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 1

Rowan is an activist with the Pet Liberation Front. He has spent the better part of a decade assisting the cause as a multimedia specialist, but never spends much time with the victims he is so intent on saving. After going undercover as a buyer to capture systemic abuse on camera, he finds a broken boy that steals his heart. Before Rowan knows it, he has a rescue pet at home. Both Rowan and his new houseguest must take steps to heal and adjust to their new normal.

Masterlist

// Chapter 2 (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, mention of noncon, noncon touch, sexual and nonsexual nudity, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

“ID, please.”

Rowan handed over his driver’s license with a smile to the woman behind the counter. Marie, her name tag said, with a smaller typeface beneath that read she/her/hers. A faded cartoon sun sticker was wrapped halfway around the edge of the badge, almost completely covering the familiar WRU logo.

“Mr. Bailey,” she said with a soft smile in return, “welcome to today’s Opportunity Sale. Is this your first time attending one of WRU’s most special events?”

“No, I’ve been before.” 

It was hard to keep his voice level, especially at first. He’d been to dozens of these events around the country, and each was proving to be harder on his spirit than the last. The weight of the phone in his shirt pocket, already recording, weighed him down as much as his words.

Opportunity Sale. He loathed the euphemism. It was a liquidation, a fire sale, a last chance for the souls the institution had broken beyond repair. These so-called pets up for sale today were what WRU considered damaged goods, defective products. These are pets who don’t live up to WRU standards of excellence, they’d say, so we’re offering them at a discount, each sold as-is.

The “defects” varied. Some were marred by years of physical abuse, no longer able to perform the tasks they were trained for as their bodies failed. Others had simply lost their minds, slipped into catatonia, a permanent dissociation that rendered them a husk of the person they’d once been. Sometimes, albeit rarely, there were victims that WRU couldn’t fully break and bend to their whims, pets who were marked by attitude and defiance that no typical buyer would tolerate. Some were simply old, the incessant labor and abuse having weakened their bodies, unable to fulfill their purpose with the grace and ease that was expected.

They called it an opportunity, but It was nothing more than a last-ditch effort to recoup the costs that went into each “product.” Fully breaking a person’s mind took considerable time and money, and a broken pet sold for pennies on the dollar was still better for WRU’s books than a total loss. 

Those pets that weren’t sold before the close of business would be unceremoniously euthanized before the next sunrise. 

“If you’re familiar, then I’ll spare you the usual spiel about how this works,” Marie continued as she ran his ID through the desktop scanner. If she noticed the edge to his voice, she didn’t show it. “But I’ll give you a few reminders, just to refresh your memory. WRU salespersons will be stationed throughout the sales floor, wearing yellow shirts and WRU name tags just like mine. They’re available to answer any questions about merchandise or to help close any sales. We also ask that you refrain from live video or photographs for the privacy of our staff.”

“Got it.” Rowan felt the lie sticky on his tongue. The staff present today would be afforded no privacy, not if he could help it. Their atrocities, their complicity in this system, would soon be aired to the growing world of people who cared. Even this interaction at this front desk would be on tape, ready to share with the world in a matter of days. 

“Wonderful,” Marie said as she handed his ID back with a pamphlet tucked beneath it. “You can find the map of our sales floor in this brochure. Domestic will be in the front right through the double doors, Platonic towards the center, Romantics and all other classifications behind the black curtain on the left. I will say that we’re particularly low on Platonic inventory for this event, so if that’s what you’re after, I’d recommend coming back for next month’s Opportunity Sale. If you’re looking for anything specific, a WRU salesperson would be happy to assist.”

Rowan retrieved his ID and the map out of her hands, and he silently hoped she wouldn’t notice his fingers shaking. 

“Got it, thanks for your help.”

A final smile was all he afforded her before turning to the heavy double doors beyond the entryway. 

As he stepped closer to the threshold of purgatory, a familiar memory rose from the back of his mind. It always did at these places, the familiar sensation overwhelming him as his subconscious dragged him back nearly fifteen years.

---

“Hey, prof, are we there yet?”

Benny’s familiar voice cut sharp through the otherwise low murmur of conversation on the bus. 

“Benny, please,” Professor Engelhardt groaned, exasperation obvious in both her face and her voice. “I would appreciate it if all of our volunteers could act their age. You’ll know when we get there, I promise. In the meantime, try and exercise even a modicum of patience”

Rowan felt Grey squeeze his knee, and when he looked over the other young man gave him a toothy smile.

“For once, the loud-mouth has a point,” Grey said as he stifled a giggle.

“I have to agree,” Rowan agreed as he swallowed a laugh of his own. “It feels like we’ve been staring at nothing but cornfields for the last two hours. Where could we possibly be going this far out of the city?”

“Professor Engelhardt did say it was essential to our training as PLF volunteers, and I know that it’s a requirement for anyone who wants to do investigative work for the PLF. But as far as I know, there’s no WRU facilities out west of the city like this.”

“You’d be correct.”

Rowan looked up as his ears burned in embarrassment, the tired professor looking down at both him and Grey from the aisle. She continued, seemingly unaware of the blush that also tinged Grey’s cheeks. 

“This is a required journey for all volunteers who are looking to take the next step in their PLF activism. We’d rather you each know now whether this kind of environment will be too much for a sensitive stomach. And you’re also correct on a second count, Greyson. We’re not going to any WRU facility, at least not yet. You each have a considerable amount of training ahead of you before you go quite so far.”

By now, Professor Engelhardt’s voice had grabbed the attention of the other volunteers squeezed into the rattling and repurposed school bus. Faces of all ages, from the hopeful university students to the equally tired retirees, were rapt as their chaperone continued. Rowan’s stomach felt like it was doing somersaults as she spoke.

“We’re going to a cattle slaughterhouse. It’s time that you all experience for yourselves what it’s like when blood soaks the floor and all you can hear is screaming and heavy machinery. You need to see what happens when a collection of personal choices and systems meant to harm come together to determine whether something lives, or whether it dies. These aren’t humans, and they can’t speak to you to share their stories, but you’ll have plenty of time to see those horrors with your own eyes as you continue as volunteers. For now, let’s get you accustomed to keeping a straight face amidst the suffering and bloodshed. Given some of your aspirations, that shouldn't be much to ask.”

This time, Grey grabbed Rowan’s hand. Rowan gripped it back until his knuckles turned white.

--- 

That same smell followed Rowan now, the acrid stench he first experienced in the slaughterhouse on that humid August day. It was a lingering copper heavy in the air, a whisper of blood among festering wounds and fluids. WRU certainly tried to cover their tracks, make this place seem welcoming and inviting to the public, hide the litany of abuse that propped the system up. But to Rowan, and to anyone who knew better, there was no hiding the stench of ammonia and waste that clung to skin as much as sweat. These were sins that neither Pine Sol nor bleach could cover.

Rowan pushed through the double doors and entered the sales floor. It was showtime. 

The repurposed warehouse was milling with bodies. There were throngs of buyers meandering between yellow-clad WRU salespeople and black-clad Handlers, some chatting cheerfully while they contemplated buying a living being, others already busying their hands with prodding the “merchandise.” 

Opportunistic buyers hoping to get a pet at a discount came in a few standard flavors. There would be the middle-class families, unable to afford a brand-new pet, but still hoping to score a Domestic that was good enough to help around the house. There were the desperate perverts who were looking to try out a Romantic, see if flesh was better than silicone to get their kicks. And then there were the truly depraved, those hoping that they can find a legal way to torture - and likely murder - a living being without the threat incarceration hanging over their heads.

Rowan was posing as a long-curious buyer who might finally cave and get a Romantic all for himself. He wanted to be charismatic and sure of himself, but prove to be a bit more hesitant when it came to the “merchandise” itself. He was dressed smart, like he had money, but erred towards frugality. This would drum up the sales people, get them to incriminate WRU and its horrors under the guise of a sales pitch, the very thing that would generate sound bytes perfect for the pro liberation materials. 

He started with the Domestics, he always did. They were typically positioned at the entryway, intentionally so, as both the most in-demand and publicly palatable part of the system. Most families and prospective buyers wouldn’t wander past this point of the warehouse, not needing to look any further. 

A few of the victims were kept in cages, others on long leashes for handlers to parade around. It all depended on the state they were in, how well they’d be able to sell themselves as much as the salespeople did. 

“You look like a busy man,” a woman clad in WRU-issued yellow said with a smile in Rowan’s direction. “What do you say about never having to cook for yourself again? What about coming home to clean laundry every day without needing to think about it?” 

“That does sound tempting,” Rowan answered as he slowed to a halt. 

He looked at the man attached to the saleswoman’s lead, a tall and gangly thing, hunched shoulders with a distant look in his eyes. The defect was readily apparent: he was standing and leaning on a pair of forearm crutches, rather than the expected kneeling, because he was missing most of his left leg.

“This is one of our best deals of the day,” she continued her pitch with practiced ease, “I can guarantee you that. A flawless all-around Domestic, with great command responsiveness and attentiveness. It’s perfect for a busy working man or a family with a few kids. We’ve got it marked down today due to an obvious defect with its legs, which means it moves much slower than we’d expect from one of our model Domestics. Likewise, it can’t assume many of the expected kneeling positions, and struggles to move from position to position otherwise. This pet requires a patient owner, but the reward for that patience is a model that otherwise works as expected.”

This man would likely live another day. Rowan couldn’t see many other physical signs of damage beyond the amputation, and so long as this one ended up with someone who kept up with his medical equipment and any other treatments, he’d likely have many more years of service ahead of him. Maybe he’d even live long enough to see the whole damn system dismantled.

Still, it was Rowan’s job today to get incriminating sound bytes and video, so he pressed back. 

“I don’t like how tall it is,” he said, staring at the man who’d tower over him if he wasn’t slouched over his crutches. “I’d hate someone to think it has any kind of authority or power over me. It would be embarrassing in front of guests.”

“Rest assured, this model is fully obedient and appropriately subservient. After nearly a decade of service, there have been zero complaints of defiance or insubordination. Its last owners simply couldn’t bear the aesthetics of a Domestic like this. They’ve left glowing reviews of its service, and had it receive additional training in hand washing and minor repairs of delicate clothes. Really, this is a steal, and it’s more than discounted for the cost of a leg.”

“I understand,” Rowan said. “Still, I’m not a very tall man, and this one is just too much for me to handle. Your pitch is good, though, I’m sure you’ll have someone take it off your hands.”

“Of course, we want to make sure that each customer gets a pet that’s best suited for their needs, even if it is at an Opportunity Sale like this. If you’re interested in a shorter Domestic designation, we’ve got one over there with my colleague Dominic.” She pointed to the far end of the Domestic zone, to a tall man in yellow with a pet in a cage beside him. Rowan swallowed disgust once more.

“I’ll go check it out, thanks.”

And he did. He walked slowly, moving deliberately from side to side so his camera captured everything. This included the sight of a Platonic falling to their knees as an electric collar went off around their neck. The would-be purchaser gave a lecherous smile and ran her hand through the panting pet’s hair once the crackle of electricity faded. There would be no fairy tale ending for that unfortunate soul. 

“I saw my colleague Debbie point you over here,” the WRU employee said as Rowan came within earshot of the cage tied to the warehouse floor. “Do you mind if I give you the sales pitch while you look the merchandise over?”

“Well, the fact you’ve got this one in a crate while the others are out and about isn’t promising,” Rowan tried to lament as he gazed through the bars of the cage.  

“Ah, but that’s part of the story.” Already the salesman was working to weave a tale, and it was one Rowan would listen to with well-practiced feigned interest. The man gestured at the crate with an expression of false sorrow before he continued. 

“This one isn’t in a crate because it’s a danger to you. No, it’s a danger to itself, and only then because it’s so stricken by grief. You see, this pet is from our very first Domestic-Care line of products, the latest from WRU in home-care solutions. Its extended training made it perfect for older buyers looking to have a Domestic with a bit of extra training in handling low-complexity medical equipment like wheelchairs, walkers, shower chairs, stair lifts, and more. It was paired with a loving owner, carried out its tasks dutifully, and went years with a perfect record. All check-ins from WRU were met with glowing reviews. 

“Given the opportunity, it follows routines to a degree of meticulousness few of our pets have a predisposition for. Genuinely, this pet has always been one-of-a-kind. However, its owner passed away from circumstances entirely beyond this pet’s control. It went out of its mind with grief, and no matter how many new homes we’ve placed it in, and no matter the attempts we’ve made to re-train it, it escapes and runs right back to its old master’s home.” 

Even now, Rowan could see the pet searching for the door, their eyes following the flow of people in and out of the sales room. The human feelings were there. They always had been, and Rowan could all but feel the grief himself. That panicked searching for a way out, that desire to run into the arms to the person that this human felt they belonged to. A desperation for a door to an old life, a familiar voice, an expected touch. Grief as manifest through complete brainwashed devotion. 

Rowan knew better by now than to let his emotions seep through onto his face.  

“So, it’s a runaway risk. A certain runaway, in fact.” 

“I wouldn’t say anything with certainty,” the employee said with a nerve-tinged laugh. “In fact, the reason this particular model is on the floor today is with the hopes it connects with someone as deeply as it connected with its first owner. There’s no guarantee of that, we know, but it’s worth the shot. We’re hoping the right person will come along today and help them find peace. In the meantime, we’d recommend a home outfitted with windows that lock, and doors that are equipped with biometric verification that the pet can’t bypass.” 

The only peace this pet would find would be its death later this evening. No one in their right mind would take a runaway, not a casual purchaser, and not even a liberation group. The risk of a successful escape was just far too great.

The pet wouldn’t meet Rowan’s eyes even now, as it returned hunting, searching for the familiar face it was expecting. A face that would never come. There was no solace in knowing that soon, for the faithful at least, pet and owner would be reunited. 

“Unfortunately, I’m not equipped to handle a runaway,” Rowan said as he looked up from the crate with a sigh. “Honestly, I feel like these Domestics have just sidetracked me. I was here to look at the Romantics, really.” 

“Then you’ll want to head right behind that curtain over there,” the man said with a gesture to the tall velvet curtains that cordoned off nearly a third of the warehouse. “There are plenty of additional WRU employees there to help you find a model that’s suitable to your needs.” 

With a nod, Rowan turned to walk towards the curtains. He lingered for a moment, just long enough to stick his fingers through the bars of the cage at his side, a chance to let the pet seek out comfort if they wanted. No touch came, and Rowan walked away with a familiar pang in his heart. He knew by now that he was never going to save them all, not yet, but it didn’t ease the pain. 

Another flash of his ID was all it took to get him through the foreboding curtains. WRU absolutely didn’t want families and reporters seeing this side of the system, after all. The Romantics division might have been the second best-selling of all the WRU models, but it was also the most secretive. There was good reason for that. 

As soon as Rowan passed the threshold he was hit with the thick aroma of sex and fear. There was a more sinister atmosphere in the rooms that existed behind the curtain, air heavy with that adrenaline-twinged sweat of broken pets who were fighting for their lives, some being used live for demonstrations on the sales floor. Even after all this time, Rowan’s stomach wasn’t quite accustomed to it. 

He kept his chest forward and shoulders out. That was the best way for his camera to capture the sights and the sounds, because after all, that was the reason he was here. He wasn’t here to save these victims, as much as he wished that was the case. He was here in the hopes that their suffering would give those that came after them a fighting chance, that airing these atrocities to the world would bring the system to its knees one day.

The first sight that drew his attention was a man cinched to a table, an unusual arrangement for even the most “defective” Romantics. There were already two potential buyers there, hands on the naked pet, touching his body and fondling his genitals. The pet was unflinching, his chest rising and falling steadily, lips giving out soft sighs and moans in a practiced rhythm. 

“I didn’t expect this one to be so popular,” the WRU employee said with feigned exclamation as Rowan meandered over. “But young man, you certainly have good taste. This model is one many once would have believed was unsalable, but here, at the Opportunity Sale, it’s being given a second chance. Not only that, but it’s proving to be the center of attention.” 

‘What’s wrong with it?” Rowan asked bluntly, still surveying the scene. Something had to be wrong, and even his own seasoned eyes hadn’t figured it out yet. The pet’s gaze was unfocused, its body still, just as a Romantic was trained to be unless given the command to engage. 

“Another tragedy, I’m afraid.” The salesperson didn’t sound saddened at all. “There was an incident during its training that left it paralyzed from the mid-back down. This means that, as a Romantic, its functions are limited. It can’t sustain an erection anymore, and it can’t engage in certain types of play. However, it's still just as tight as our standard buyers would expect, and its mouth is an absolute dream. You’d be responsible for the additional care costs of a paralyzed pet, but for someone with limited sexual needs of their own, this model will more than fulfill.” 

At least once each Opportunity Sale, Rowan swore to himself that this was finally the time he was going to be sick on the job. He’d see something so horrific that there was no answer except to choke up bile and spit there on the sales floor. He’d likely out himself as a PLF agent in that same breath - after all, who else would be so concerned about the well being of pets? - but it almost didn’t matter. These horrors were too much to witness, much less bear as the victim was bearing them now. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. At least that sales pitch would make a great sound byte for the pet liberation materials. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s not what I’m looking for. I’d definitely want one that’s younger and, uh, more mobile.”

“Understandable,” the salesperson said with a nod. “There are plenty of other options here today that might suit your fancy. Feel free to keep browsing, and as always, you’re welcome to ask a WRU employee for any assistance or further direction.”

“Thanks.”

And Rowan did keep browsing. He browsed carefully, angling his chest to capture all of the angles he could, kneeling down to “inspect” pets that were sprawled naked on the floor. The path he took around the Romantics section was methodical. The disabled pets, the catatonic pets, the ones with abuse written on their skin, Rowan tried to capture them all. When he could he gave their hands what he hoped was a squeeze of comfort - possibly the last they’d receive in their too-short lives. 

He was nearly to the back corner, at which point he’d loop around to the front and make a graceful exit, when he saw another Romantic in a crate.

Unlike all the others, this one made Rowan stop in his tracks.

The man in the crate was young, possibly ten or so years younger than Rowan himself. He had a thick hair of black curls and he was looking through the bars of the crate with searching, hopeful eyes. It was almost like he was waiting for something, someone, to notice him. Most of the pets here were defeated, on their last chance at redemption, already chewed up and spit out. Their spirits had been dampened. Somehow, some way, this one was still fighting. 

It was like a thread in his chest pulled Rowan up to the crate. His feet were moving without him commanding them, unlike anything he’d experienced at a sale like this before. He was caught up in something special, something different, about this victim. 

“You have a good eye,” the saleswoman said with a warm smile. “This is possibly one of the best deals we have on the floor today, so long as you’re willing to be a little patient.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Rowan asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy kneeling almost eagerly behind the bars. 

“Let me start off by saying that this pet is in great physical condition. Not only is it one of the youngest we have here today, it has passed almost all of our physical examinations with flying colors. Its strength, speed, and tactile abilities are within or exceeding our typical parameters. Not only that, but this particular pet has something that is typically reserved for only our most exclusive customers: it has dual training, and is classified as both a Romantic and a Domestic.” 

“That’s not something you typically see at an Opportunity Sale, I suppose,” Rowan pretended to muse. He already knew that what she had said was the truth. Dual-classification pets took many more months of training than single-classification, and it often showed in both the abuses and expenses associated with keeping one. A Dual-classification pet could easily cost as much as a down payment on a house. 

“Exactly why this is such a great opportunity,” the saleswoman beamed. “As a Domestic, it even has specialty training in French cuisine. You’ll be eating like royalty every night if you so please. As a Romantic, its skills and abilities are considered quite standard, with experience in training for light bondage.” 

“So, why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong with it?” 

A sigh. Dramatic, almost despairing. It was an act of practiced sympathy that soured Rowan’s stomach even further. 

“Unfortunately, this one seems incredibly selective with the orders it follows, if it follows them at all. No amount of effort from our most experienced WRU handlers have been able to adequately refurbish it. As I said, its behaviors and capabilities are within or exceeding WRU standards, and it certainly seems eager to please its keepers, but I can make no promises on its compliance with specific commands.”

The boy looked up at Rowan for just a moment before turning his gaze back down. From that brief glance, Rowan wouldn’t have put him a day over twenty-five. But God, he just looked so lost. He didn’t seem lost in the way that many others at the sale today did, that catatonic, too-far-gone glaze over their eyes, the will to live entirely sapped out of them. Instead, it looked like this boy was hunting for something, someone who would notice him, give him attention in return.

Rowan couldn’t help himself. He saw it as a sign that this victim wanted to live, wanted to make it off this floor alive, wanted to connect with any human being that came by and could give him a chance. It was a spark, and against his better judgment, Rowan hoped that he could one day stoke it into a fire. 

“How much?” 

The words left his mouth before he was able to swallow them down. His heart began to race almost instantly: this wasn’t the plan, it was never the plan. He was supposed to get in, take some footage, and get out. He wasn’t trained for anything else. He wasn’t prepared to engage in rescue activities, especially not like this. 

Yet Rowan had never known anything with a certainty such as this: he could not leave here without saving this boy. 

“Wow, you’re won over already?” The saleswoman’s voice was light, but she was already pulling out a clipboard with a stack of paperwork on it. “I haven’t even given you all of its physical details yet. You can’t see quite how tall it is in the crate, can you? Here, let me get you its height, weight, vaccine record, some of its other statistics-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan managed, almost breathless from the sudden influx of stress. “I want this one. How much?” 

“Because it’s lacking in one of the most essential features of a WRU product, the ability to listen to owner commands, it’s offered at a significant discount. This one is seven thousand and five hundred dollars before tax, and the seven percent state and local sales tax will be applied at checkout. We also have optional add-ons, like the pet care package that insures all well-being visits, vaccines, and dental care at any WRU-sponsored pet clinics, as well as training class vouchers to impart additional skills.” 

Rowan had already retrieved his wallet from his pocket, fingers trembling as he pulled out his ID and method of payment. That was a lot of money, yes, but who was he to put a price on a life? His car could hang on another few years, probably. Maybe. It was just money, he’d be fine. 

“I’ll take the base package. I don’t need anything else.” 

The rest of the sales floor became distant, dull, and Rowan took the pen into his hand as the saleswoman shoved a pile of paperwork in his direction. Tomorrow morning, she said, this boy would be delivered to his front door. Initial on this line, sign here, what’s today’s date? It was a blur and Rowan was hardly aware of what his own hands were doing. 

He couldn’t hear her over the thundering of blood in his ears, and the rush of adrenaline made it hard to steady the pen in his hand. He penned his signature on the final line and the saleswoman congratulated him with words he could hardly make out. It didn’t feel real, like he was walking through a dream. 

Rowan was going to be a pet owner. 

---

The din of conversation in the massive room almost overcame the incessant ringing in the pet’s ears. Not much was capable of drowning it out these days, not since it had become so loud. It never stopped, anymore. 

It couldn’t hear the words that were exchanged all around it, those busy groups of people moving back and forth, their legs passing its crate by without stopping. It had a hard time hearing words, no matter how hard it tried, and whether it was somewhere busy like this or otherwise. It wanted to be good, it wanted to listen, it wanted to make its master and its handlers pleased. But the pet couldn’t do that anymore, and deep in its gut, it knew that’s why it was here today. It was here with all the other pets that were broken, that were missing things, that cried when they were brought into the room this morning. Those pets were bad, and the handlers had no trouble saying as much.

The pet wanted to believe it wasn’t like those broken pets. That it would go back to Master, or have a new master, and be able to please them like a good pet should. But for that to happen it had to be on its best behavior. Handler Green had said so, that the pet would be thrown out if it didn’t try its very best to listen and be good. Handler Green had shouted this over and over, as though the pet was being disobedient just by existing, rather than unable to hear him. It didn’t want to be disobedient, and it wished that the handlers didn’t have to repeat themselves so much. It wished it could hear right, like the other pets were able to.

A pair of legs stopped beside the crate, toes pointed towards the yellow-shirt woman that wasn’t a handler, but the pet was told to behave for nonetheless. The pet looked up, eager to see who might be interested, perhaps someone who wanted it. The man’s eyes met the pet’s, and it quickly averted its gaze back towards the ground, cheeks burning. It was a novice mistake to make eye contact with a person like that. If it didn’t get itself under control, remember its training and very best manners, the pet knew that it was destined to fail. 

Maybe it was a broken pet after all. It certainly had the bruises and scarring from seemingly endless corrections by handlers, anyway. 

Those legs finally walked away and a blanket was thrown over the top of the pet’s crate. It yelped in spite of itself as the darkness descended. Did this mean that it had failed? Was that single glance enough to seal its fate, destined it to never have another Master to serve, no second chance to prove itself? Was this the end - alone, in the dark, unable to hear anything but the shrill ringing that had become its only companion? 

I want to be good, it thought to itself, tears splashing down from its watering eyes to its knees. Its fists balled up, hands shaking from the sadness and the longing. I just want to be good.

---

Taglist (please ask if you would like to be added or removed, I know it's been a while :))

@honey-is-messi @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @squishablesunbeam @tragedyinblue

@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @whumpzone @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader

@dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast

@dokidokisadness @anonfromcanada @starfields08000 @bloodredfountainpen @pumpkin-spice-whump

[squipstarbi]

if i were good at writing id make a trans rich goranski centric fic, post squip after realising hes bi, slowly becoming friends with michael who he thinks is attractive (as is shown in hospital scene) and how he navigates having a crush on a boy freely but also repairing his friendships and apologising for his actions, him becoming friends with jeremy who is also trying to fix things with michael, brooke and christine after the squip. michael is able to talk to rich about feeling abandoned by jer and the complex situation of knowing it was due to the squips influence but also being hurt that it seemed so quick and easy to get rid of him. michael being the one that helps rich learn how to enjoy stuff that isn't typically 'cool' without worrying about other people's opinions. jer and christine deciding to be just friends because of the whole squiptuation, jer and rich talking about their experiences with the squip together, transfem jer coming out to rich and brooke first, brooke and jer friends to lovers but lots healthier, jake and christine friendship- bordering on qpr - christine wanting to avoid romantic relationships for a bit due to the squip (potentially aro christine) rich and jake having an in-depth discussion about halloween and the fire, let jake be upset with him for a while, understanding but they take time before they make up, bi rich + pan brooke solidarity (i would absolutely make them besties because yes, they talk about their respective crushes and go bowling together) -their friendship is not assumed to be a relationship by anyone around them. michael and rich smoking together as stress relief, rich is more open and is kinda touch starved when high (has a whole is it gay to cuddle your bros moment) accidentally admits to being trans (hc that rich uses trans tape, not a binder because he can exercise safely in it and wears a lot of tank tops) but is immediately accepted/ not made a massive deal (michael would be so chill about it, and would already have been told about jer) michaels moms being the best parents in the whole franchise letting rich stay there a lot due to his dad and hosting others in the squip squad too at various points in time, michael and rich getting together, brooke chloe jenna jer and christine having girls nights and going out for froyo, michael and jer needing time to just be nerds together because it's weird adjusting to having so many more friends now (finally completing AOTD as a metaphor for their friendship being fully repaired)

i want them all to be happy together, feel free to write this fic because i don't think i have the skill (but please tell me when you do/put a link lol) EDIT: I GOT MOTIVATED AND AM IN THE PROCESS OF WRITING, HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE COMPLETED AND WHEN IM DONE I WILL PUT A LINK

[three-dee-ess]

ahhh i have some mad anxiety about touching my tech and my 3DS hinges broke. i see the guide in the pinned but the idea of being able to touch the circuitry of anything makes me kind of nauseous OTL … my 3DS is just important to me so i freak out at the idea.

i need to get it repaired and i miss playing it a lot i just really dont know where to go. id trust a pro on the internet over random tech repair shop in town, but maybe thats just from my experience collecting v-pets where thats p specificalized.

id love love shop suggestions or smthin, or even just encouragement from others who have done the same repair about how fragile or not it is, if.. thats something i can ask for. tysm have a good one!!!!

I don't know of any 3ds technicians, I'll have to do research into it- I know there is a physical 3ds modding scene so I'd recommend looking into that and seeing names that pop up several times?

[helenaheissner]

Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 14

Hello, lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well :)

Don't forget you can read three chapters ahead on this story, twenty chapters ahead on "A Dream of Summer Rain", and two chapters ahead on "Magical Girl Exorcist Squad", by becoming a paid subscriber on my Substack or my Patreon!

***

Zeke

12 months earlier

I squatted in the Pits, putting the finishing touches on our minibot, Gurren, in preparation for our fight with Team Bottle Rocket in twenty minutes. I was so zoned in on getting all the screws extra tight that I almost missed my phone blaring out a Kendrick Lamar song. I groaned when I saw the caller ID. “Hi, Mom,” I said, attempting to keep the stress and frustration out of my voice. It was better to get whatever ‘conversation’ this was out of the way now- if I tried to put it off and ignore her, she’d just be even more cantankerous about it when we actually got around to it. 

“Hellllo, Ezeekielll,” she slurred, her words blending together at the borders of the syllables. Oh, good. “How are you this evening?”

“Uh, a little busy to be honest, Mom,” I said. 

“Busy? Busy with what? It’s not like you have a job.”

I breathed in a sharp sigh through my nose. “I do have a job, Mom. It’s just seasonal.”

“Those obnoxious shows you go on don’t count as a-”

“Mom, was there a specific reason you called?” I asked, focusing on keeping the screws tight. “Like I said, I’m a little busy.”

“Too busy to talk to your dear ol’ mum,” she said, her accent starting to slip out. She’d been training herself not to have one ever since she’d moved to the States back when she was a teenager, but sometimes it still flared up. Usually when she’d indulged in one too many Screwdrivers. “That’s a problem, you know- you’ll never get a girlfriend if you hate your own mother.”

“I don’t hate you, Mom,” I said monotone. 

“Love the exact phrasing there, Ezekiel. Very gentlemanly.”

The screwdriver, my screwdriver, a literal one, slipped out of my hands. And as I reached down for it, I noticed my breathing- sharp, fast, all inhale and holding my breath, only exhaling when I absolutely needed to. “Thank you, Mother, I try.”

“Don’t you get sarcastic with me, young man- that’s hardly a trait that will do you any favors with the ladies either.”

I reached for the screwdriver on the ground, but my hand trembled when I tried to grip it. It slipped out of my grasp and hit the floor once again. “Look, Mom, my match starts in a few minutes, I really need to finish these repairs on Dai Guren-”

“Oh God, I forgot you gave that stupid thing a name. How asinine.”

Cold, soggy shame dripped off of me, and I let myself inhale and exhale through my mouth. 

And of course she kept going: “And that’s another thing- why is it just you doing this? Don’t you have teammates for this nonsense? They don’t appreciate you. If they did, they wouldn’t force you to do all the work-”

“They don’t force me to do all the work, Mom!” I snapped. “And I’m doing these repairs because I’m good at them. They had to go handle other stuff for the match. It’s not actually that complicated, but you refuse to understand!”

A few moments of deafening silence poured out from the other end of the line. “This is clearly not going to be a productive conversation. I think I’m done with you for the evening. I’ll call you back when you’re in a more reasonable headspace.”

“Mom-”

She ended the call before I could get another word out. 

It wasn’t quiet in the pits- people were using saws to carve up metal, flames were welding parts together, drills were digging into machinery. All the high-pitched screeches coalesced into a singular plaintive wail. 

A tear fell off my chin and shattered on the ground. I tore off my work gloves and wiped my eyes, hoping nobody would see me. I wasn’t much of a crier. No reason to ruin that reputation now, when I had other things to focus on. The bot was ready for the fight, and that was what I had to focus on, not the hollow pit in my chest rapidly filling with anger and resentment and freaking exhaustion-

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

My fingers parted across my visage. I hadn’t even realized my face was buried in my hands. I looked through the gaps to find Calloway there, standing across the narrow middle walkway that ran down the white room. He was standing there in jeans and a black hoodie drawn up over his head, but he pulled it back and shaked out his shaggy brown hair. His eyes always looked… Harsh, angry, aggressive. But not now, not at this moment. Now they looked… Softer. Concerned. And… Genuine, in their concern. I’d gotten pretty good at spotting the difference between genuine concern and artificial; having parents like mine forces you to learn as fast as possible. But right now, here, he… 

“I… Just a difficult phone call with my mom,” I said, pulling my hands away from my face entirely, directing my gaze at the floor. 

Calloway stepped forward and gave me a hug. I flinched- the guy really had no sense of personal space, but honestly… I needed it, then, so I hugged him back. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

I mumbled, “I guess I just…”

“What?” Calloway asked.

“It’s nothing, it’s…”

“What?” Calloway said, pulling out of the hug and looking me directly in the face, furrowing his brow. 

“I��m… Just surprised that you care,” I said. 

He gulped and took a step backward, along with a slight bite to his lower lip that ended as soon as it began. “I, uh… Yeah, yeah that’s fair.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“No, you did,” he said, turning his head so he didn’t have to look me in the eyes anymore. “It’s fine. Really, it is. I just… I really must come off like I’m a lot, all the time, huh?”

“I… What do you want me to say here, dude?” I said, taking a step towards him. 

He took another step back. “Just the truth. Just… How you really feel.”

I drew in another deep breath. “Yes. You… You do.”

He gulped again. “That… That explains a buncha stuff. I kinda figured people knew I… But I guess they wouldn’t. Fair enough.”

“Look, Calloway-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a playful wave of his hand, plastering a bogus smile onto his face. “Just means I sell the heel routine well. That’s not a bad thing. And this isn’t really about me- I was asking you what’s wrong. Um… Do you… Do you wanna talk about it?”

My phone alarm hollered inside my pants’ pocket. Ten minutes till the fight. They’d be starting the introductory monologues soon. “I dunno if I have time right now, but… I appreciate it. I really, sincerely do. Maybe… Maybe next time?”

“Next time I catch you crying, tough guy?” he said, the smile edging just a little closer to genuine. 

I forced out a little chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so. For now… Can I just get another hug?”

He nodded rapidly. “Of course.”

Then he went in for it and wrapped his arms around my back. And it felt… Good. Supportive. Strong, but not aggressive.

Maybe there was more to Keith Calloway than I thought.

***

NOW

I sprayed some breath spray into my mouth while I paced up and down the hallway of my apartment, my hands wringing together as I tried to keep my mind clear and focused. 

I liked Kate. That much was hard to deny. She was bright and funny and passionate, just radiated warmth and empathy, and I felt like I could let my guard down around her in a way I couldn’t around other people. Including Faith.

But I liked Faith. I had for a while now. She was chill and focused and creative, a freaking dancing ray of light that always brightened up my day, who I desperately wanted to protect and take care of. 

And they were both incredibly pretty. 

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit what is wrong with me? Just like my jackass of a father, can’t keep it in my pants, can’t be happy with what I have, like a real man is supposed to. 

But that didn’t matter. I was going on a date with Katie tonight. I was moving on from Faith, because that was the right thing to do, because she didn’t like me back, because she didn’t swing that way and just wasn’t physically attracted to me. And Kate… She made it really easy to want to move on, and she seemed to really want to be with me, for some unfathomable reason. Holding her in my arms made me feel like the strongest person in the world; the way she’d just slid up to me and put herself there like it was the most natural fit possible… It felt really good. I felt really good around her. 

My phone buzzed, and I saw from the caller ID that it was my mom. 

My finger loomed over the ‘accept call’ button for a solid minute before the phone simply stopped ringing altogether. Then it immediately started ringing again, because my mom was physically incapable of taking no for an answer. 

A spark of anger caught in my chest, burning my insides and sending proverbial smoke out of my ears. Goddammit, I was twenty-three years old, financially self-sufficient, and living in my own place. She did NOT get to keep pulling this crap. She hadn’t reached out to me in months and now, when I had something legitimately important to do, she decided it was the perfect time to interrupt. Couldn’t even be bothered to text first, asking if now was a good time. 

I thought about a year ago, and the mess I’d become when my mom called before that match, and Kate, back before I’d known she was Kate, before she’d known she was Kate, before she and I could even call ourselves friends, let alone whatever we were now, had held me and comforted me. Didn’t have to be asked, just offered and did her best to make good on that offer. That was when it had started to dawn on me that underneath it all, she really was a kind person with a big heart. 

It was also when it really started to dawn on me that my mom was an absolute bitch. Maybe she wasn’t as unbearable as my dad, but it would be a truly Herculean feat to be anywhere near as unpleasant as that selfish asshole. 

I hit ‘ignore.’ 

I breathed out, slowly and carefully, leaning against the wall. I was emphatically not going to cry right now, because I didn’t want Kate to feel like she had to take care of me tonight. I wanted to take care of her, to show her that yes, she really was the cute, sweet, wonderful girl she was trying to be. 

The tumblers of our lock shifted as the front door opened. Faith stepped through, a sad smile on her face. “Heyo,” she said. “Your hot date is downstairs waiting for you. Show her a good time tonight, yeah?”

“Of course,” I nodded, double checking my pockets to make sure I had my phone and wallet. Good to go. “You gonna be okay by yourself tonight?”

She gave an errant wave of her hand and said, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can get caught up on my soaps.”

“You watch soap operas?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, old ones from the 1960s, mostly,” she said. “They’re really funny when you’re stoned.”

“Fair enough,” I said. I gave her a quick hug, which she happily accepted. “Don’t wait up for me!”

“Will do!” she said as I made my way out the door. 

I headed down the stairs and out front, where Kate’s pickup truck sat in the thin driveway that led into the parking garage below my building. I did a double-take when I saw her, leaning against the front of her truck. She wore a red dress that covered her chest wholesale, but beneath, what looked like boobs protruded from the dress in question. Falsies, presumably- Faith must have loaned her old ones out. Still, it couldn’t be denied that they looked real good on Kate, bringing the whole look together. Her dress had a slit going up the side, showing off her long, smooth legs well up her thick thighs. Bright red lipstick was painted across her mouth, and my whole body was screaming at me to cup her face in my hands and shove my tongue down her throat. So, of course, in my infinite intelligence and articulation, all I managed to choke out was, “Whoa.”

She smiled the kind of smile you want to protect with every fiber of your being. “Like what you see?” Her voice was high and breathy, each syllable enunciated slowly and carefully. She’d only been out for a few days and she’d already come so far. It was astonishing. It was… She was… 

“Absolutely beautiful,” I said, unable to blink. 

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at me.

Then a car pulled up behind her and honked at us- I recognized one of my neighbors behind the wheel, an older, heavyset woman named Nina. 

“C’mon, let’s get going,” Kate said. She gestured me into the truck and then we pulled out of the driveway. “So, where are we going?” she asked. 

“Uh, Indian place on Lincoln Boulevard. It’s over by my old college,” I said, trying not to stare at her too much and venture into the dubious territory of ‘creepy weirdo.’

“Sounds good, I love Indian food,” she smiled again. 

Kiss her, you idiot, my brain hollered. Wait, no, she’s driving. Bad idea. But kiss her before the end of the night! “How’d the appointment go?”

“Fantastic! I’ll be able to start hormones hopefully by the end of the week!”

“That’s fantastic!” I said. “How’d the other one go?”

She spat out a petulant sigh. “Less good. My sponsor is…”

“Is?”

“Let’s be charitable and go with ‘pragmatic,’” she said, her voice dropping low. She grunted with frustration and her eyes peeled wide as she heard her own words. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said, trying my best to sound reassuring. “I don’t mind if you use your… Other voice.” I managed to stop myself from saying ‘boy voice’ or ‘normal voice.’ Thank God.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s… It’s not that I don’t want you to hear it, it’s that I don’t like hearing it.”

“That’s fair,” I said. 

“But yeah, if I want to keep Gaines as my sponsor, I may or may not have to lean into this whole trans thing as part of my ‘brand.’ Ugh, I hate that word. Gag me.”

“Is that a request?” I smirked. 

She blushed redder than the Red Comet. “What if it is?”

“Then I’d be happy to accommodate.” What the hell, when did I get this bold?! It must have been my dick talking for me. Made sense- I’d spent… Several years not listening to it. How long had it been since I’d last had sex, anyway? Two years? Three? 

Getting ahead of yourself, Underhill. “Do you think you’re gonna stick with Gaines?” I asked. 

“Don’t see what choice I have,” she replied as she turned onto Lincoln and started driving west. “I don’t exactly have the capital to self-fund. How do you and Faith raise money, anyway?”

“Uh, a couple ways. Grant from our old college, a loan from Faith’s parents, and the money she and I raise doing temporary engineering jobs during the off-season. Usually like…, four, five months full time work with one of the aerospace companies in the city, then we spend the rest of the year working on the fun stuff.”

“I should probably look into something like that,” Kate said. “I don’t dislike working for my parents, but I’m never gonna make the kind of money I need to keep going in the ‘bot battle circuit working twenty hours a week at an indie retail outlet.”

“I have some contacts at a few places that I can send your way,” I offered. “Might be able to help you get a foot in the door, do some interviews.”

“That… Would be amazing,” she beamed. “You’d really do that for me?”

“‘Course I would,” I said. I want you to keep smiling that smile. “I just… Want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” she said. “For… Everything.”

“No problem, Katie,” I said. 

She giggled. God, her laugh was adorable. So, I said that out loud. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“You have a cute laugh,” I said simply.

“It’s not cute… I’m not…”

“If you’re about to say you’re not cute, just know that there’s nothing cuter than a cute girl insisting she’s not cute.”

“... Dammit. You’re right.”

 “Gotcha,” I said, snapping my fingers. 

We carried on like that until we got to the restaurant, where, to my astonishment, we were seated immediately. I ordered a lamb vindaloo with a side of garlic naan, and she ordered butter chicken with onion naan. We split an order of vegetable samosas as well, and we were seated by the window looking out into the street. A pair of candles sat between us on our glass table, casting a bit of glow in the darkened dining area. 

“So, you went to that school over there, then?” Kate asked. “LMU?”

“Yeah, all four years.”

“How’d you wind up there?” she asked. 

“Uh, well, I applied to UCLA and didn’t get in,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Which is true of, uh, most of the school, actually.”

“They couldn’t get into UCLA?” Kate chuckled. 

“Or USC. Or Harvey Mudd. Or Cal Poly.”

“Ahhh, gotcha. You said you grew up around here, right?”

“For a given value,” I said. “I was raised in Riverside.”

“Inland Empire, I see,” she said. “That place as horrifying as David Lynch makes it look?”

I chuckled. “Only when it’s on fire.”

“So, like, all Summer?”

“Pfft, basically.” 

“It’s funny, you know, we grew up in the same neck of the woods but never met till we started doing what we do,” Kate said, resting her chin on her hands while her elbows were propped up on the table. “I know that Venice and Riverside aren’t actually that close together-”

“Especially with the traffic in this town making it a longer trek,” I said. 

“Still,” she said. “It’s cool, knowing that someone like you was relatively close this whole time.” 

Her eyes… 

“Zeke?” she asked. “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

“You went quiet and started staring at me,” she said, raising her head, putting her hands flat on the table, concern exuding from her frown. “Did I lay it on too thick?”

I shook my head. “Not at all.” I reached for her hand. “Honestly, I’m worried about doing the same, so why don’t we just be ourselves tonight, and see how that works for us?”

“I’d like that,” she smiled again. That smile… 

The server, a middle-aged Indian man with pot-belly and an impressive beard, brought our samosas and a few different sauces over and set them between us. And with him came, very unexpectedly, some familiar faces. 

“Zeke?” Olivia asked. She was flanked by her new teammates, Tom, a medium-height black man in his late twenties with a shaved head and massive hands, and Winston, a white boy with a wild mane of brown hair who looked like he was still in college. And standing next to them were Team Forest Fire and Team Sparky-Sparky-Boom. Forest Fire was three guys all in their thirties, each of them shredded and rocking full beards. Their captain, Lance Masterson, was a behemoth of a white man with a shaved head and some burn marks on his arms and neck; his teammates were Jake George, a tall black man with long dreads and nose ring, and Evan Hernandez, a shorter Mexican-American man built like a powerlifter. Team Spark-Sparky-Boom, meanwhile, was two people, a husband and wife team called David and Eileen Portman. David was comfortably in his early forties, hair more salt than pepper, clean shaven and thin as a rail; Eileen looked like she was in her late thirties, and was shorter and thicker, with long brown hair beginning to spark with silver. 

A low-pitched groan escaped my throat, and I was surprised at how loud it was, only to look over and see that Kate was making roughly the same mouth-noise. 

“H-h-hey,” I eventually choked out. “How y’all doing?”

“Not bad,” Masterson said. 

“Not bad at all!” Hernandez said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Kate.

She blushed, then looked down at her food. 

“So, this must be Kate,” Olivia said. 

“Um, how do you know about-”

“Faith told me.”

“Faith told you what?” I said, my eyes narrow. 

“Oh, just that you’d finally found a girl for you… Wait a sec. Wait wait wait a second. Calloway? Is that you under all that makeup?”

My eyes bulged with panic, and I saw Kate’s lips trembling and her hands wringing together. Oh, this was bad- she wasn’t ready to come out to everyone at work yet, she’d said as much to me in the car ride. She’d been planning to come out in two weeks when she had her next fight, with the same kind of surprise announcement that Faith had been afforded. 

And now… Now she was having to come out to her work rivals by accident. For the third time in two weeks.

Goddammit.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice dropping low. Then, in her higher, breathier voice, she said, “Yes. It’s me. My preferred name is Kate, pronouns are she/her.”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Oh, so you’re a trans too?” Mrs. Portman said. 

I died inside a little bit. 

“I, uh, yeah. I’m a trans woman,” Kate said.

“Wow, two of you in the tournament this year, huh? What are the odds?” Mrs. Portman said. “And this isn’t a publicity stunt?”  

“Dear, hush, that’s rude,” Mr. Portman said, playfully swatting his wife on the arm, blissfully unaware of the psychic damage he and his wife had just inflicted on Kate. 

“No,” Kate said, eyes dropping low, fingers drumming nervously on the table. Oooohhhh dear. “I’m just… I’m a woman.”

“Hey, listen, it’s nice to see you all, but Kate and I were just trying to have a nice, quiet dinner,” I said. “Alone. As in just the two of us-”

“That’s fine, broseph,” Masterson said, “We can all take that big table outside, leave you two to your date.”

“I’d appreciate that a lot,” I nodded, putting a metric ton of emphasis behind each syllable. 

“As would I,” Kate said. Practically squeaked. Must… Protect… At all costs. 

“No problem, brosephine,” Masterson said. “You look great, bee-tea-dubs.”

They all cleared out and headed for the massive rectangular longtable outside… Except Olivia, who remained standing exactly where she was in front of us with her brow creased and her hands on her hips and her jaw slack. 

“Uh, Olivia, you coming with?” Tom asked while standing in the doorway, with an ‘aw shit here we go again’ expression on his face.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Olivia said. 

Tom sighed and let the door close as he stepped outside. You tried, Tom. You tried. 

“Can, uh, I help you with something?” I said, trying not to get too distressed by Kate’s thousand-yard stare. Given that she’d only a few days prior called out and challenged Olivia in front of a screaming crowd while on camera and then immediately proceeded to have a massive panic attack… I didn’t like what this was almost certainly doing to her brain. 

“I just… When Faith said you’d found someone, this wasn’t what I expected,” Olivia said. “Does she… She knows who Kate really is, right?”

“Yeah, she does,” I said, creasing my own brow, “Why do you ask?”

“I just… I really just… Calloway? Seriously?! Calloway?!” Olivia said. “Of all freaking people, you choose Calloway over Faith?!”

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Kate said. 

“R-right. Sorry, I… You look nice,” Olivia said. 

“Thanks,” Kate said. “Just, uh, quick question: why do you care?”

“Because I care about Faith,” Olivia said. 

“Right, sure you do,” Kate said. “You care so much about the girl you brutally dumped in the most vulnerable moment of her life. Right. Definitely. Absolutely.”

“Also, why would Faith care?” I said, attempting to navigate the conversation away from Kate’s (admittedly accurate) criticism of Olivia. “She and Kate have patched things up- they’re friends now.”

“Really?” Olivia said. 

“Yes, really,” Kate said. “She and I hung out literally all day today. She helped me pick out this dress, helped me with my voice. She and I are fine. And she’s fine with this.”

“Oh, honey,” Olivia said. “You don’t… Really believe that. Do you?”

Kate blinked, and her eyes went low again. 

“What does that mean?” I asked. 

“It means-”

“Don’t,” Kate said, slamming her hand against the table. 

Olivia took a step back. “Right. Sorry. It’s… Look, Zeke, I know you and I were never super close, but I gotta ask- is Faith really completely on board with all this?”

“Yes! Why wouldn’t she be?” Did someone slip me a crazy-pill? What the hell was going on?!

“I just… Can’t believe you would choose Ke… Kate over Faith,” Olivia said. 

“It’s not a choice,” I said, grabbing Kate’s hand and squeezing it tightly, a fire lighting inside my head. “I like Kate. She’s a beautiful woman, inside and out.”

“Phrasing,” Kate said in a thirsty whisper, eyebrows raised. 

“Babe, not now,” I said. 

“Babe?” she said with a bright smile.

“Babe? Wow,” Olivia said. “This is… A lot to accept, tbh.”

“And why, exactly, do you get a say?” I said. 

“I-”

“That was a rhetorical question,” I said. “You don’t. At all.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll back off,” Olivia said, holding up her hands, palms flat. “I just… Can’t help but think you’re making a mistake. You and Faith would be cute together, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I growled. 

“You would be,” Kate whispered. 

“What?” I said. Seriously, WHAT?!

“Backing away now,” Olivia said. “I’m sorry for saying anything- you’re right, it’s really none of my business. But, uh, Calloway? I still remember what you said last Friday. I’ll see you in the battle box.”

And with that, she walked away. My head spun with confusion and anger at the implications of what she said, the insinuations, the freaking hubris. And on top of it all, Kate looked ready to cry again. 

Our waiter finally came over with our food on a tray and set it down, but looked at us with a worried expression. “Would you two like this to go, by any chance?”

“Yes, please,” Kate and I said simultaneously. 

We waited till the food was put in takeaway boxes, and we made a hasty departure. I was pretty sure I heard Mrs. Portman shouting something at us as we walked out the front door, but I wasn’t sure what. “Where should we take all this?” Kate asked. 

“I have one idea, if you’re up for it,” I said, with a grin I hoped would be the first step to salvaging this evening. 

We headed for Dockweiler Beach, only a few miles from the restaurant, basically deserted in the waning hours of the evening before it was closed to the public. Waves lapped against the sand in a steady, drawling rhythm, and the rich, relaxing scent of seawater filled the air. We sat on a blanket Kate kept in her truck, eating our food while watching the tide crashing into the shore and the setting sun casting an orange-gold glow over everything. Kate had tied her hair back while we ate, but loose strands kept blowing about from the seabreeze and colliding with her face.

I reached over and brushed a strand back, and she smiled at me. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m, uh, sorry about what happened.”

“Don’t be, it isn’t your fault,” she said. “Honestly, you handled it really well. Way better than I would have in your position.”

“And what position is that?”

“The guy’s. You’re… You’re a really good guy, Zeke Underhill,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. 

I laughed in spite of myself. “That’s nice of you to say. I… I’m not really used to hearing it,” I admitted, slumping my shoulders. 

“I find that hard to believe. You’re such a gentleman.”

“I… The thing is,” I started. Oh boy, I was about to admit this to her. This was big. I rarely talked about this. Not even with Faith. “... My parents… Are not the types to give out praise often, and a lot of it had to do with them thinking I wasn’t living up to their expectations of what a man was supposed to be. My Mom… Well, she’s English, she’s got all these old-fashioned, old-world ideas about men and women. She sent me to my room when I cried at a movie once when I was seven. My dad wasn’t much better- kind of a rough and tumble man’s man type. When I didn’t make my high school’s basketball team in ninth grade, he reamed me out for half an hour straight. Never mind the fact that I was short and fat back then. Which they both reminded me of constantly.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry,” Kate said, putting down her food and placing her hand on my shoulder. I gave it a squeeze. She continued, “My parents have always been so chill and supportive. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to… To grow up with that instead of what I had.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Honestly, I’m mostly over it at this point. I moved out for college when I was eighteen and never looked back. The only thing that really still gets to me is how hypocritical they were about everything. My dad… He’s a total pig, cheats on my mom constantly, and Mom just drinks to forget it every time the proof is thrown in her face. They’re both so full of shit, but I still… I still have this fear sometimes, that they’re right, that I’m not good enough, that there’s something I’m doing wrong, that…”

“That?”

“... That I’ll be a cheater like my dad, constantly balancing multiple girls, stringing along someone I’m supposed to be committed to. I think… I think that’s what bugged me about what Olivia was insinuating, like I was somehow being disloyal to Faith. Which is ridiculous, because… I… And she doesn’t even… And I’m not-”

“Not what?” Kate said, wrapping her arms around me. 

“I’m not with her. I probably won’t ever be with her,” I said.

“... You really like her, don’t you?”

“... I’m not sure you want me to answer that question, Katie.”

“You already have,” she said. “It’s kinda obvious.”

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kate said, nuzzling my shoulder. “You’re allowed to like more than one person at the same time. And you’ve liked her for a while, I’m not surprised I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“... Second prize.”

 “You’re not,” I said, turning around and putting my hands on her cheeks. “Listen to me, Kate Calloway. I recognize we’ve only just started really getting to know each other, but in that time, you’ve shown yourself to be… Amazing. Caring. Funny and thoughtful. Beautiful. I… I don’t know if I deserve you, but I’d like… To keep seeing you like this. To get to know you better, and to hold your hand while you go on this journey.”

Tears streamed out her eyes, and she bit her lower lip before saying, “Would you… Would you still say that if Faith liked you back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed. “Faith is gay.”

“...”

I blinked. “Faith is gay, right?”

“I…,” Kate stammered, pulling out of my hands. “I’ve said too much.”

I blinked one long, sustained blink as the gears turned in my head. Faith… Wasn’t gay? And she… It… This made it seem like… 

Like she… 

No. 

Just, just… No.

There was a beautiful girl who I liked in front of me, and I wasn’t gonna let her slip away. “You’re fine. And even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“You… You really mean that?”

“She’s not here with me right now, on this beach, sharing this meal, this evening,” I said. “Life moves forward, not back. If Faith really liked me, she should have said something. You, though, you said something. You made the first move, and… God, I’ve had to do that myself so many times, only for it to fall apart. Do you have any idea how good it makes me feel, that you like me enough to be the one to push things forward? How special that makes me feel? Because it’s amazing… You make me feel… Amazing, Kate.”

She looked at me with those big blue eyes, shining in the multicolored light of dusk as the sun set over the horizon, her red lips spread wide, hope and astonishment and joy radiating out of every inch of her. She gulped, and then she grabbed my lapel and said, “I’m gonna push things forward again now. Is that okay?” 

I didn’t answer. I just went for it, pressing her lips against mine, melting into her as we made out on the beach while the sun finished setting. My heart was alight with ecstasy, my lust burning at maximum temperature. I didn’t know for sure if I liked her more than I liked Faith. I just knew that in that moment, there was nobody I’d rather be with, nobody I’d rather be kissing, nobody I’d rather be getting to know.

For just one moment, everything was crystal clear. 

“You really had to ask?” I said as I pressed my forehead against hers, reveling in her aftertaste.

She smiled. Oh, Lord, that smile. “I just had to make sure.”

We carried on like that for a while longer, her hands touching mine, my lips touching hers, our bodies interlocking.

[arsenal-womens-1]

Prompts

Please ask for one if you want

If they are blue they are in the process of being written

1.Iv fucked up

2.Im sorry im not the person you thought i was

3.Why did you leave

4.Thyer lying to you

5.Don't touch me

6.Why would you say that

7.You saw that

8.I didn't mean it

9.I was a kid

10.“You look like hell” “i feel like it”

11.You don't remember me

12.I don't know who you are anymore

13.This isn't what it looks like

14.“Do you trust me” “i don't know”

15.I think i'm seeing things

16.Send help

17.What the hell is happening to me

18.There's so much blood

19.You said you knew where we were going

20.Are you seriously stuck right now

21.How can you love someone for 7 year then not

22.I love you

23.Its 2:30 am

24.If i matter that much then why do it

25.Are you clinically insane

26.You're 16!

27.I never got to say goodbye

28.You don't see me

29.This is why we can't have nice things

30.You could have died

31.Do you regret it

32.Tell me i'm wrong

33.Lie to me then

34.We need to talk

35.Are you drunk

36.How much of that did you hear

37.What happens if i accept it

38.Is there a reason that you are both naked in bed

39.I won't let you bleed out

40.Tell me at least apart of it was real

41.Let's go on a walk

42.What's that

43.She's dead

44.You and me against the world

45.Promise me

46.You came home

47.You came

48.Im at the hospital

49.There's no heartbeat

50.Go be a superstar

51. My mom misses you

52.what if i say no and i come with you

53.I didn't know where else to go

54.I'll never be that me again

55.You deserve better than me

56.I don't want to understand i want you to stay

57.Don't let me lose you to

58.For what it's worth i really im sorry

59.Step out that door and i swear we are done

60.What right did you have from keeping it from me

61.Running seems to be all your good at

62.Your not sorry you'll never be sorry

63.Cry me a fucking river

64.The smart people are talk it's time to shut up

65.I want you to die there i said it

66.Im i that unlovable

67.Please don't make me answer that

68.I'm like 99% sure this is illegal

69. I no apologies for how i chose to repair what you broke

70.You never think the last time is the last you think you have forever but you dont

71.Gay not blind

72. “ because she’s a girl!” “She’s a girl”

73.Run away with me

74.Stop trying to save me

75.Oh don't stop on our account

76.Visiting hours are from 4:00 to 9:00

77.Id ask you to stay but i don't like you

78.Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence

79.Your too young to hate this world

80.Were designed to be disposable

81.Her blood is on your hands

82.Your smile isn't as bright as it used to be

83.Same time tomorrow

84.You were supposed to talk me out of this

85.Do you remember this you give it to me when we first got together

86.And it's another tuesday what's your point

87.It's almost like your still alive

88.You'll be free soon

[yes-divine-ruler]

Boy Next Door

Part 14: Who Was She?

pairing: alex (from adult world) x fem!reader

Taglist/ @v-love @evanpetersfav @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff @quicksilversg1rl @iruzias @alexxavicry @soaringcloud @laynna-mcknight @humdrumexistence @simp4petermaximoff @evan4ever @paujmr @jangsuzchap @meganxfox @fuckedbykai

cw: fluff <3

wc: 1.15k (short one 🫠)

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"Alex?"

I stood at the door of my apartment, peering inside with a big frown on my face. The adrenaline of the almost fire had worn off, but dealing with the aftermath had only just begun.

"Hm?" Alex was standing in my kitchen, his hands on his hips as he looked up at the black smoke damage that scarred the ceiling.

I bit my lip, dreading what was doing to happen now that my kitchen wasn't functional, and I was still covered in soot.

"When do you think Dan will get here?" Dan was our landlord, and long-time friend of my father's. I knew these repairs wouldn't be cheap, and I wasn't looking forward to having to tell my parents about it.

It still hadn’t left my mind that I saw Alex with another girl at the door of his apartment, and although he wasn't technically doing anything wrong, I wondered why he did it. It hurt but I tried to conceal that behind a tight lipped smile.

"Probably never, he's always so slack. Didn't help much when my toilet was leaking,"

"Well that's reassuring."

I passed by my reflection in the mirror by the entryway and almost had a heart attack. Confronting Alex would have to wait for later.

"Did you want to shower?"

"Yeah, I'm going now," I was blunt, and my tone was flat but i don't think he sensed it. Alex's eyes sparkled and a sly smile crept up onto his face.

"Would-"

I knew what he was going to say, and cut him off with a hand to his chest and a shy nod. Maybe I was mad, but having the comfort right now wasn't something I could pass up on.

"I'll help you get all that soot off your face- you remind me of the Susuwatari," I pretended I knew what that meant and offered him a small smile, taking his hand as he offered it and followed him into my bathroom.

I was quick to rid of my clothes, not caring much about being stark naked in front of Alex now that he'd seen me like this a number of times now. It was the first time I'd be seeing him though, with nothing on, and the thought made my stomach twist in knots.

I got in the water almost immediately, and watched the tiled floor as char-coloured water disappeared down the drain. The water felt good on my skin, and I was already feeling like I had a clearer mind.

My eyes were closed when Alex decided to join me, and he placed a hand steadily on my hip as I rinsed my hair. His fingertips left goosebumps across my skin and it never ceased to make me feel flustered.

"Let's see your face,"

I turned around to face him, my eyelashes wet with water and my eyelids heavy. I'd be stupid to say I wasn't exhausted.

Alex's eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his bottom lip wedged between his teeth as he worked a flannel across my face, wiping off the soot with intricacy. I melted under his touch, soaking in the softness of his fingertips.

Without thinking he’d realise, I took a glance downwards, and I was more than impressed by what I saw.

"Are you looking at my dick?"

Alex chuckled when my face started to burn red.

"No asshole,"

"It looked like you did,"

"Shut up."

"Okay, well.. can I wash your hair?"

It felt so nice as his fingers massaged my head. Id never had someone pay such close attention to me, or look after me the way he did. That girl was ruining my moment.

"Who was she?"

Alex looked at me with wide eyes that were glazed over in confusion, until something finally clicked and his lips curved down into a frown. My heart dropped.

"I'll be honest with you, just don't get mad okay?"

Usually when someone says that they're about to say something gut wrenching. I nodded to encourage him to continue, not being able to muster any words.

"I was scared, of commitment, of being so deep into something that I had to rely on someone else. I invited her over, to smoke, and then.." I held my breath.

"I asked her to leave. I couldn't even stand the thought of being in a room alone with another girl, and now, I'm royally fucked."

It wasn't the most romantic confession, but my heart still skipped a beat.

"Why did you feel like you had to invite someone over? That's kinda dumb isn't it?"

"I am dumb, I'm dumb for thinking that I shouldn't just go for it and commit to someone I know likes me, for me."

"Is that me you're talking about?"

Alex's face lit up into a smile and be wrapped his arms around me. Our bare bodies pressed together as my head nestled into his shoulder.

"Now you're being dumb, obviously it's you."

I looked up at him and grabbed his face in both hands before bringing his face down to mine. He kissed me so passionately I wasn't sure I could keep my footing. He held me like he was scared of letting me go.

When he pulled away he kissed my nose.

"I realised something when I was petrified of losing you that I want to be with you, for real, like... boyfriend and girlfriend type shit."

"Is that your way of asking me?"

"Okay," Alex took a deep breath, "will you, Y/N, be my girlfriend, officially."

I smiled and hugged him again, kissing his neck where my head was.

"I'd love to," I was feeling so warm and fuzzy inside I almost had to turn down the temperature of the water.

Alex and I got out, and I realised I only had one towel in my bathroom. He stood naked as I wrapped my towel around myself and ran to get him another one.

He sped back to his apartment afterwards to get changed, giving me time to change and stare at my black ceiling. I couldn't get over the fact that a mere hour ago I was crying over him and now I was his girlfriend.

“I’m baaaack!”

Every time I laid eyes on Alex he just looked so cosy and warm, especially in his black sweats and socks. He pulled me gently by the arm in a rush to get me into bed, and when we finally laid down, my eyes fell closed. His hand combed soothingly through my hair as my head laid in his warm chest, and regardless of what happened today, there was no place I’d rather be than here.

“You must be exhausted,” Alex whispered in my hair, placing a small kiss on my temple. I smiled lazily against him, and wrapped an arm tightly around his torso.

“Are you okay?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Oh shit, sorry, goodnight.”

[azurine-cryptid]

hello scpblr i have risen from the void to bring thee my own personal Shaw interpretation/headcanon

Jack was either placed indefinitely in the freezer or they found a way to actually terminate him.

So firstly, I have yet to figure out how in the fuck this guy got in possession of scp-963-2, suggestions welcome

secondly, I decided to spice it up for -2 to make it work a lil differently so: When the host of SCP-963-2 is injured, fatally or otherwise it will heal the wound, now this has its limits, if most or all the body is destroyed beyond repair, it'll trap the hosts soul inside and basically stay there until another viable host touches the amulet, forcing the hosts soul into the body, replacing it. This makes the host effectively immortal. Now while the soul does get replaced, memories from the new host will still be there, over time with growing number of bodies this would become a problem as the human mind can only hold on to so many memories.

As of now Shaw has yet to experience this, he's been immortal for only a couple months and id enjoying the high of never dying, he's done pretty good at keeping his body intact and functioning.

Shaw is just some guy who likes red sunglasses, 70's fashion, and indie pop. He's so girlypop I love him<3 he's making my brain go brrrrr

[kakujis]

i did so much thinking yesterday, well more like rambling, when i was w my bf and i straight up told him why i act the way i act and why i bank so hard and deflate in friendships where i feel like theyre just tolerating me.. and it was bc ive always needed someone or something to hold onto and if i wasnt good enough then theyd leave me and that was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. so i lied sometimes and tried to make myself as appealing as possible while always tolerating things i disliked.

i dont mind being vulnerable on main. i like having deeper friendships but i also have so much social anxiety and im so scared of saying the wrong thing that i almost always never reach out lol. another point i wanna touch on is interacting on here, im sorry if i dont really interact much on my end its literally just my own fear of rejection(rsd yess) even if we’re established friends. id never want anyone to feel pressured to like or interact/talk w me for this very reason.

i think i’ll always be in this limbo of wanting to be accepted but never wanting to force that on anyone. also does anyone else ever feel like their interacts could make the other feel like its transactional? like okay, we talked, now like all my posts LMFAOOO. i think loads of friendships are (possibly) like this and its always like “what can u get out of it” but i hate hate hate that mentality… i just wanna be friends and laugh about the things we like and maybe we can vent about things and even get into disagreements but still repair at the end of it all.

and maybe thats why i love platonic love so much, even more than romantic love ? maybe thats why i love this idea of yearning and being yearned for?

idk, i’m not a therapist and this is just a writing blog and i am just rambling but yeah.

[trubbish-treasures]

[Video ID: "Legends and Myths of Hoenn 1: The Creation Of Hoenn"]

[The scene opens on the Garbodor Heap, as it usually does, but this time there's a clear water and mud line, about waist height. "Hey, there, everyone. It's been a little bit, huh? Well. If you've heard about what's been happening in the region, I bet you can understand why I haven't had much of a chance to talk-- I don't have a lot of backlog just yet, and with the blackouts and the flooding, I just finally got back to the ol' Heap and I'm still sorting through all the damage."]

["As you can see, the electrical system's ruined. I'm glad I shut down all the printers before I left. So... Instead of continuing the 486 rebuild-- which I am definitely not gonna be able to do for at least a week or two-- I thought I'd leave you with one of the other kinds of tapes Gramma Garbodor kept moving."

[The room's light fades out.]

["See, she loved all the tales of my home. Our home. Hoenn." Suddenly, a holographic display shows the region of Hoenn, just as it is, islands and all, heat-blasted forests, cities still feeling the floods, the works.]

["And so I thought I'd begin at the very beginning."]

["Once, in a time where the world had withered, and gods walked the earth..." The hologram turns largely brown. The entire region of Hoenn is represented as barren and desolate as the Desolate Land had been. "The gods began to argue as to how to restore the world. And while many of these arguments were peaceful-- they had agreed on the broader points, and kept them in mind-- Some were not. Like in our Hoenn."]

["Here, the gods did war and will not just for the shape of the future, but their own power." Suddenly, the scene shifts, to a mighty and furious war, between desolate land, and raging storm. And in their center, some very familiar shapes do war and will.]

["Supping of the power revealed at the heart of Hoenn, even a taste, drove them to hunger for it. In the ever-shifting land and sea, did the people cry out for aid to the other spirits. But the water could not so much as touch the land, and the land could not so much as warm the waters."]

["And so, land and sea being opposed, did humans call out to the sky... And, amazingly, for spirits and Pokemon in those days were not wont to be kind to humans, a spirit answered. For in their warring, the Land and Sea did not remember what their true purpose was: restoring the damage that had been done to our Hoenn."]

["Unable to let go of their grudges and sabotage against the other, the spirits of the wind did give answer: 'Then let your competition be the canvas on which this place is made. Show me the land and sea, as beautiful as you can make it, and I shall yet decide."]

["Thus, in a week of creation not seen before or since, were the beasts of the land, and the air, and the sea, made and caused to flourish in their land and sea. And the beauty of the place was beyond kindness, and the heart of the place beat with joy."]

["And this, they said, was our Hoenn."]

["I'll update on repairs to the Heap next week. Until then, keep circulating the tapes."]

[runawaycarouselhorse]

I haven't bought anything for myself for a few months (usually, I buy one just-for-fun thing a month, unrelated to groceries), but this month, I was feeling kind of down and like people only see me as a source of money, so I decided to take care of myself more (so I don't feel completely alienated from myself--other people will see me whichever way the way they see me, but I at least should probably take care of myself as a human being!), so I'm going to get some things that'd make life less overstimulating.

I gave away my plush tiger I used to keep clipped to my bag, so I needed something soft to touch and calm me down while I'm outside. I had a rubbery turtle with confetti in its clear shell that I liked to touch (it held hand sanitizer from Bath & Body Works--Warm Vanilla Sugar!--but the hand sanitizer fell out ^^;;;), but with my new ID strap, I couldn't clip it on anymore, so I had nothing calming and grounding for a while...

The lights are Too Bright and cannot be dimmed in this apartment, so I'm often either in the dark (which can give me a headache) or over-stimulated by the too bright lights (which can also give me a headache... light sensitivity, ain't it grand?)

My regular night lights are lovely, but too weak and unadjustable, and cycle colours, which is fun, but not conductive to anything but sleeping. ^^;;;

The Hello Kitty one, which my dad just had repaired, doesn't cycle colours and it can work as a very tiny reading lamp for a small booklet, but it's also weak and only lights up a very, very small area around itself, so again, mostly only suitable for sleeping.

[whirligig-girl]

some sketches

This week I dealt with a couple days where my room, and thus PC, lacked power. My lights worked but every other outlet was dead and needed a repair. With few distractions and not much else to do, I spent my time drawing. Here’s what I drew:

Image ID: green-tinted black & white sketch of a steampunk rocketship with large propellant tanks, round superstructure, solar boiler and heliograph. Ensign Guz, a slimegirl with gooey hair and a Star Trek Lower Decks style starfleet uniform, is looking up at the rocket with big starry eyes. She says, “It’s beautiful...” End Image ID.

Image ID: Sketch: D’vana Tendi, a woman with freckles and a short undercut hair style, is holding up the disembodied head of Guz. Tendi looks attentive and worried, whereas Guz merely looks flushed and embarassed. Her slime-hair is dripping. Tendi says “Guz! Are you okay?” and Guz says “Uh... just a little light-headed?” End ID.

Image ID: Sketch of Guz, smiling, looking up just above the viewer, and is sticking her tongue out playfully. She is seen from the shoulders up, the rest of her body is just a puddle of goo. A starfleet delta-shield combadge is partly submerged in the goo where her chest would be. End ID.

Image ID: Sketch of Guz, but rendered as a human instead of a slimegirl, with apparently real hair, freckles, irises in her eyes, and lipstick. A tiny doodle of Captain Carol Freeman, a black woman with dreadlocs, is explaining to her, “the paint will wear off in 6 hours or so. Remember to be careful with your wig, and don’t let anyone touch your skin!” Guz stares wide-eyed at her and is slightly frowning. She says, “Are you sure about this?“ Freeman responds, “This undercover mission is very important! You’re the only one who can seep through the walls without transporters.” End Image ID.

Image ID: Lisdolin Kerman, a Kerbal from Kerbal Space Program, has a very large head and a very small body with long arms that are crossed over her chest. She is looking at the viewer and smiling. her face has only large bulding eyes and a mouth, with no nose or ears. She has three freckles and short wavy hair with messy bangs. She is wearing a starfleet uniform, and the delta-shield combadge looks comically large on her. She says, “Presenting... the U.S.S. Better Cerritos, NCC-75567-A.“ Next to her is an image of the USS Cerritos from Lower Decks, a starship with a circular saucer section and two long warp nacelles underneath, but with six additional warp nacelles of various sizes added to it. Below it are starfleet engineers Guz and Rutherford, who are looking forward incredulously. Guz says, “Where’s the impulse engines?” Lisdolin: “Don’t need ‘em.” Sam Rutherford, a dark skinned man with a mohawk and a rectangular cybernetic implant on his left eye. says, “Where’s the engine room?” Lisdolin: “One per nacelle.” End ID.

This last one I actually drew today while my brother was at a Barber Shop getting a hair cut. I thought, “wouldn’t it be funny if...”

Image ID: Sketch of Guz sitting in a barber shop with a tarp over her uniform. The barber, a middle-aged man who has andorian antenna and a bolian facial ridge, is looking at the slime on Guz's head with confusion. He is holding up her goo-hair and it runs through his fingers. He is holding up scissors with goo on them with his other hand. He says: "What on Bolius & Andor is THIS?" Guz looks a little disappointed at that reaction. End Image ID.

[aloe-veraaaa]

ive been thinking *alot* about into the radius, i recently beat ir and its been a wonderful fucking experience and one of my all time favorites of any game fucking ever, and it all comes from how fucking powerless the game makes you feel for such a long time

early on i wasnt very smart about resource management, i didnt loot everything, i didnt search every crevice and structure for a possible stash of ammo or guns, i survived off of my gsh-18 and sawed off alone, and every challenge felt monumental, every single mission felt like a journey with a unique obstacle, whether it be the extensive walk through anomaly filled areas fighting loads of seekers and fragments, or learning to use the artifact detector while climbing snd falling off of the fucked up structures

by the time i got to pobeda, i was genuinely fucking out of resources, i was buying ammo and heals constsntly and i was using them up rapidly, i finally learned that i needed ap ammo and i decided once i bought some, id take on *the intrusion*

the intrusion was the scariest snd most stressful 2 hours ive ever had in a fucking game, having to take an unbelievably slow and extra careful but agonizing fucking walknthrough the factory, every enemy taking a fuckload of bullets that i couldnt afford to waste, but somehow by some stroke of luck i didnt run out, and every new section was horrible, constantly overwhelmed and realizing i still had more to go, AND TBEN WHEN I FINALLY FOUND THE CASE, I REALIZED IT TOOK UP A WHOLE HAND TI CARRY???

the walk home from it was genuinely a nightmare and by the time i got back i saved the game and didnt touch it again for a few days, relieved but still shook

the missions after that were such a fuckung cakewalk though sfter i really.learned how to loot and get money, though my first encounter with sliders was horrifying and then just painfully difficult, once i learned how to kill them, and once i obtained an mp5 it was fucking over i was so powerful and unstoppable, and when i could finally find the aug out in the map, and save uo enough to get a spas-12, the last 2 missions of the game were some of the most fun ive had playing vr, going from being so powerless and having to play so carefully to actually being incredibly powerful snd unstoppable was so rewarding and refreshing for a game that i was so hesitsnt to really dig into

big tip for any players who wanna get better or are, do some extra runs to loot everything, you can get uo to 10k per run if you cover whole maps, dont soend money to repair guns you find, get as many artifacts as possible, get that mp5, and fuck shit up (and please please use p+ ammo)