#i use mobile data to come here and whine when i need to but i can't open videos and such

[gabessquishytum]

so, look. i think we've all noticed that i am a chronic overthinker. and i sure have been thinking about the mechanics of a free use system. this is just going to be me rambling but like? strap in i guess?

so the thing is. it's in everyone's best interests that this not actually be an anonymous system, right. you need some accountability (and usage data for... however this is being funded. i'm personally assuming this is a government-funded program, which is hilarious to me, but anyway), so you need registration and some kind of system to verify and record accounts. which. depending on when this whole thing starts this... does open up the potential for a VERY funny and unsexy pre-fuck negotiation of "okay, here are the services i'm offering today. you want anal? alright, that's fine, just let me see your registration card... just have to write down your information... just a minute... okay, have at it!"

if you get more recent this is probably more of a chip card and mobile card reader thing. i'm definitely thinking people registered to be used have a collar they wear to show that they're available, so maybe that has a card reader? maybe it's more of a smartwatch thing?

but. let's be real. modern day? there's an app. there would 100% be an app. you could view anyone available to use nearby, you could filter for certain preferences, there would be some kind of "confirm fuck" button. there would be complaints about the app. there would be grumbling about the Good Old Days when people had to Actually Talk To Confirm A Fuck. is this funny to anyone else. i have no idea. but this is VERY funny to me.

anyway. please picture dream of the endless, deeply pissy about having to 1) get a phone 2) make an account 2)b get a fake identity so he can make an account 3) use an app. because hob keeps fantasizing about getting bent over a table at a pub (that he imagines looking suspiciously like the white horse circa 1389) in front of his friends and only realizing after, when he sits back down with his hole full of come, that it was dream fucking him.

-🐈‍⬛

Great news! This is hilarious and entirely appeals to my mindset today (I am a very tired little slut right now).

So back in the good old days, there were collars, right! They were colour coded to indicate a person's limits, you would exchange details (like you exchange insurance details after a car accident lol). Then you were good to go!

Now there's a database, an ID verification process and of course there's an app. Of course! And the app is annoying and laggy and occasionally crashes entirely but yes, it does keep people safe so it's fine. It just takes the magic out of the whole thing. Ah well.

Dream goes into the waking world with... limited knowledge about all of this. He has to ask Matthew for help and God that is humiliating for everyone involved. Matthew has to pretty much do the entire generic profile for Dream (he doesn’t see the point when he only wants to fuck Hob anyway! But Matthew makes this fake profile where Dream has a pseudonym and a list of interests so it looks legit), and they get it done eventually. Dream pops into the new inn, looks at his app, and there's Hob's profile! Signalling that he's free to use!

So Dream hits the 'fuck?' request, and Hob glances down at his phone... and hits the 'confirm fuck' button! Dream is literally at the end of his patience and he doesn't even have take the time to say hello to Hob before he yanks him out of his seat, bends him over the table, and ruthlessly fucks into him.

The conversation continues as though nothing is happening while Hob pants and whines and squirms. Dream nods politely to Hob’s friends, and they nod back at him. It's a fairly regular occurrence to see Hob like this so they aren't bothered. As long as he's safe and happy.

When Dream has finished and cum into the squeezing tightness of Hob’s hole, he pulls out and carefully rearranges his clothing. Hob is still splayed over the table with his legs spread as Dream pulls up a chair and casually joins the group. Their eyes meet over the table, and Hob clearly goes through 100 different emotions before moaning and coming completely untouched onto the floor. The mere knowledge that Dream has just used him - that it was Dream and he didn't even know - is more than enough to tip him over the edge.

So maybe the app isn't so bad after all.

[bratkook]

one chance. (m) knj. teaser.

pairing. flash!namjoon x reader genre. fluff, angst, smut, superhero!au word count. approx 20k warnings. light hearted, some fighting (not graphic), mentions of character death (also not graphic...or permanent), mutual pining, namjoon is an adorably sweet dork !! smut: tbd as i write! but ofc filthy summary. namjoon knows he only has one chance to go back and make things right, but is he prepared to live with the potential consequences that his actions could cause? note. this was going to be part of a bts super hero collab that fell through (& i hope the author’s involved still post their fics) i’m about halfway through writing it and hope this will give me the motivation to finish it lmao. i might do a tag list if anyone is interested?? lmk muah.

The searing pain is felt before Namjoon even hits the floor, shooting down his fingertips when he attempts to move them, making his shoulder ache with each breath he takes. The plastic drums he had just collided into—an impact at a speed they weren’t designed to withhold—lay tattered in bits and chunks all around him, cold water that would typically be held inside them now spilled out and soaking into his suit. 

A hiss escapes his lips as he remains on the wet floor, already hearing the rushing footsteps approaching him. “It’s broken!” he shouts out, wincing when he once again attempts to move his arm. “Why isn’t it healing if it’s broken?”

When you and Hoseok finally reach him, you breathe a sigh of relief. From the absolute chaos his crash had caused, you were expecting to see him a lot more battered and bruised. Instead he lay on his side, hand gently cradling his aching shoulder with a grimace on his face. 

“Holy shit, that was awesome.” Hoseok barely spares a glance at Namjoon, overstepping him to assess the damage caused, tapping away at the screen of his tablet as he does so, checking the speed data he had captured. 

“You told me these would hold,” Namjoon grumbles, foot kicking a nearby scrap of plastic, another groan leaving him when his shoulder throbs. 

“That was just a guess.” Hoseok brushes him off, continuing to type away as he circles the crash scene. He only approaches Namjoon to pluck the Go-pro off his head, pocketing it with a sheepish smile on his face. 

With a subtle eye roll, you’re crouching down to meet Namjoon’s body, hands gently reaching out to see what the problem was. He lets his hand fall from it’s protective position, eyes squeezing shut as he waits for the burst of pain to come, jaw clenching when your fingers press along his shoulder, clearly feeling the way it had popped out of place. 

“It’s not healing because it’s not broken.” Namjoon finally opens his eyes now, peering up at you and gulping when he realizes just how close you are. He can clearly see the worry in your eyes as you try to see just how bad it is, a crease between your brows that he wants to rub out with the pad of his thumb, small frown on your lips that only makes him feel worse for going against your warning of this being a bad idea. 

A small huff spills from your lips once you realize you won’t be able to help him until you’re back at the lab without this suit—a suit that Hoseok calls his pride and joy—covering him up. “It’s dislocated. You probably tore some ligaments and tendons, but those will heal up just fine once we pop it back into place.”

“Wait, is that gonna hurt?” he whines out, huffing out the strands of his brown hair that had fallen over his face and gasping in pain when you purposely prod at the swollen joint with a small glare. 

“I’ll make sure it does so you remember to never go against my warnings.”

“Oh god, you’re doing this on purpose!” Namjoon yells, sat on the cold chair, knees pulled up as he braces for the pain. 

“I told you I was,” you smirk, extending his arm out, hands placed against his palm with the other on his trap muscle to get a good grip. The loose threads of his suit tickle his skin, a product of you cutting the fabric to double check that the only thing wrong was in fact his dislocated shoulder. 

Did you actually have to cut it? No. This was just your childish way of getting back at Hoseok for convincing Namjoon to do this. 

The grimace never leaves his face as you stretch the limb out, twisting it slowly to the right angle before pulling back with a slight pop once it settles back into its rightful spot. 

He feels the relief instantly, tense muscles relaxing as he sags back into the chair, face no longer contorted in pain when you gently lower his arm. Namjoon swears he’s never felt better, already able to lift his arms as if nothing ever happened, the torn tendons quickly repaired and back to normal thanks to his regenerative ability.  

“Good to go. If you pop it out of place again you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“Yeah right. I’ll just have Hoseok do it for me.”

Right on cue, a crash sounds out behind you, followed by a shout and an apology as Hoseok picks up whatever gadget he was currently working on. 

“You sure about that?” you question with a smug smile, crossing your arms under your chest as you step back. As smart and helpful as Hoseok was, his mind was far too focused on the technology surrounding him. If Namjoon seriously injured himself, the only person who would know what to do, was you. 

He knew this, and sometimes he liked that fact, not opposed to the way you’d constantly worry about him—totally choosing to ignore the reason why you did so was because it was your job. That tiny factor in the equation was tucked into the back of his mind. His small crush was innocent, and if looking forward to seeing what color lipstick you’d wear that day helped him deal with getting poked, questioned, and forced to run on a treadmill to document his speed, then that's fine by him. 

“I won’t dislocate my shoulder again. I promise.” 

Something about the smile on his face does nothing to ease your worry, and as Hoseok emerges from his room with a giddy laugh, you feel the need to pry. 

“What the hell were you trying to do anyway?”

“I think we’re close!” Hoseok announces, your question being brushed aside as he thrusts his tablet into Namjoon’s now fully mobile arms. The only thing lighting up the screen is a skew of numbers along with a diagram and some fancy looking animated figure that slightly resembled himself. It meant nothing to Namjoon so he doesn’t bother trying to decipher it, looking back up at Hoseok with a confused expression. 

“I don’t think me making those plastic drums explode got us any closer.” A small shiver courses through him as he recalls the pain from his shoulder once more. 

“Oh yeah, that was pointless. But I think I figured out another way.” Hoseok grabs the tablet once more, tapping a few more times before another animation fills the screen. Peering over his shoulder you spot what it is, a golden animation of what looks to be a treadmill, swirls flowing on either side of them that you believe to represent wind. 

“Another way for what?” You question again, not liking the sly look on Hoseok’s face. 

“Time travel.” He says it so casually, not even sparing you a glance as he flips the tablet over to show Namjoon. 

That wasn’t what you were expecting. When you had walked in on Hoseok pitching the idea to Namjoon, wanting to document his full speed, push it further to see what more he was capable of, you thought it was just to gather information to help when it came to figuring out a plan of action the next time a meta-human decided to torment the city. 

“Time travel?” you repeat, a displeased look on your face that Namjoon spots instantly. The small wrinkle between your brows is back and he can’t even allow himself to find it adorable because the small glare you were giving Hoseok changes course and stares directly at him. 

“Yeah,” he quietly admits, pressing his lips together gently. His saving grace comes in the form of his phone ringing loudly, cutting through the tense silence and making him jolt in his seat, hands fumbling for the device.

He has never been more thankful to get a call from work, your scolding being directed at Hoseok now, but Namjoon can hear it through his current conversation. The worried tone in your voice is clear as you question Hoseok’s sanity, stating how dangerous time travel could be in the grand scheme of things. Hoseok can only stumble over his words, flustered at being on the receiving end of your lecture. 

Namjoon ends the phone call right on time to hear you shout, “Are you trying to start World War three?!”

“I gotta go…” he whispers, slowly sliding off the chair trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping he wouldn’t be detected. But before he can flash out of there, you’re looking at him again. 

“Not so fast.” He freezes instantly, hands lifted up in front of him. “We’re not done talking about this—“

“I know, but I gotta go. I do have an actual job after all.”

Hoseok glares at Namjoon, “So you’re gonna leave me here to get yelled at...alone?”

Namjoon gives him a guilty smile, shrugging and mumbling out a quick apology before bolting out of there—literally. Your hair flows up at the speed, Hoseok’s shirt flapping wildly, and nearby documents scatter around from the gust of air he had caused. The only thing left behind is the red suit draped across the chair he had been sitting on, flashing out of it and into his regular clothes before leaving to work. 

“What was the Gopro for?” you question. As much as you didn’t like the idea of time travel, you were slightly curious about the entire situation. 

“Just thought it’d be sick to film it. Like imagine if it actually works and we have solid proof?” Hoseok’s eyes glimmer at the prospect of it all, tapping at the screen to replay the footage captured earlier. The two of you have front row seats of Namjoon’s earlier crash, and seeing the chaos along with hearing Namjoon’s grunts of pain a second time makes you glare at Hoseok once again. 

You reach forward and grab the discarded red suit from the chair, balling it up and tossing it at Hoseok’s face. “Patch it up. I had to rip the sleeve to properly see his shoulder.”

He whines loudly as he peels the material off of his face, fingers clutching the precious suit and gasping when he spots the torn area. “You monster!”

[whorehour]

can i request a yeonbin smut? like soobin is a really cute bottom and all whiny and stuff while yeonjun fucks him?🥺

YES! YES! YES!  - sorry it took so long bubs :( but i hope u like it!!

yeonbin smut genre: smut duh contents: top! yeonjun, bottom!soobin, degradation, daddy kink 1.6k words 

it was an oddly quiet thursday afternoon in the txt dorms as all the members were all doing their own thing waiting on a call from their manager to see what needs to get done. soobin and beomgyu were playing video games in the living room, kai was snacking on something in the kitchen while watching youtube videos while taehyun and yeonjun were in the bedrooms working on a song together.

amid soobin and beomgyu's bickering over who was the imposter, kais phone rang. he put his snack down and answered the call from his manager.

"beomgyu hyung and taehyun hyung the producer needs us at the recording studio" while taehyun immediately sat up and went to put on his shoes beomgyu whined and groaned in protest "but the gameeee" "finish it the car hyung" "are you going to pay for my mobile data taehyun-ah"

at this point, kai was shoving the bickering two out the door as he bid his goodbyes to his hyung. due to the youngers, absence, soobin found himself laying on his stomach on the living room floor bored to death. he then remembered that yeonjun was still at home with him. the thought of him and yeonjun having an apartment all to themselves caused his cheeks to heat up. they've always had a thing between them but never put a label on it. soobin didn't mind, they always had a good time together after all so why the complaint? with that thought in mind he sat up and made his way to their bedroom.

yeonjun was sitting at their desk his back towards the door as he continued to work on the song he was previously working on with taehyun.

"hyung" soobin spoke in a soft voice. he's always felt intimidated by him which caused him to be very cautious at times like these. "hmm?" yeonjun replied his back still towards him "im bored" "well find something to do binnie" the eldest chuckled as he swivelled around in his chair. yeonjun was amused by the sight in front of him. there stood soobin in a pair of grey sweat pants and an oversized grey hoodie, his hands lost in the long sleeves. he had this faint pout on his lips and his cheeks were rosier than usual. yeonjun quickly understood what the younger was silently hinting and he would be lying if he said that the thought hasnt crossed his mind either, but he wanted to tease soobin just a bit.

"i thought maybe you would play with me" soobin spoke as he played with the ends of his sweater paws. "and why would you think that? cant you see im busy?" yeonjun replied as he turned back to his laptop. he mindlessly typed away but his mind was too distracted in ruining the little one to concentrate on his work.

soobin pouted harder this time and made his way to the bed beside yeonjun his eyes never leaving the pink-haired boy. he stared at him for a second. first it was his hair, it looked so soft and luscious and he wanted nothing more to run his hands threw it and tug on it. next, it was his eyes. although yeonjun had turned down his suggestion he could see the way they were darkening, a sight only he had the pleasure of seeing. his gaze moved down to his lips. oh, those lips he wanted nothing more than those lips on his, kissing him, lightly nibbling on his bottom lip before tracing kisses down his body until he reached the place were he longed for him the most. lastly, he looked at his hands. he large, veiny hands with his long fingers typing away. the sheer thought of having those hands wrapped around his neck caused his pants to tighten. without even thinking he reached out to grab one of yeonjun's hand and hold it with both if his hands as he looked up at his hyung with the most desperate expression painted beautifully across his face.

"soobin what-" "please" he begged and he wasn't ashamed about it. he needed him desperately. its been way too long since he last felt those pretty, pink lips on his and he longed for them. he longed for him.

the sight of soobin sitting on his bed basically begging yeonjun to ruin him made his mind fuzzy and his breathing laboured but he still wasn't done teasing him yeonjun leaned forward until his lips were ghosting over the youngers and whispered "i think... you're acting like a little brat soobinie" soobin closed his eyes as a little whine left his mouth. yeonjun leaned back and watched as soobin stared at him eagerly. "come here" he said as he patted his left thigh. "come on daddy's lap ." after he registered what yeonjun was saying he bolted and straddled yeonjuns lap, waiting for his next order. yeonjun leaned forward once again but this time, he just wanted to close the laptop that was still open and running behind his good boy. soobin pouted for the nth time today as he made a fool out of himself again in front of yeonjun. yeonjun chuckled as he brought the pad of his thumb to the youngers lips and traced his bottom lip. "so desperate and yet so beautiful" he whispered before finally connecting their lips together. yeonjun started slow but soobin has been wanting this for so long that he immediately shoved his tongue in his hyungs mouth breathing heavily and squirming against him. "take this off" yeonjun breathed and tugged on soobins sweatshirt. soobin got up and took off his sweatshirt. the sight of soobins tiny waist and bare torso had yeonjun licking his lips and he felt himself getting less and less composed. he needed him just as much as soobin needed him. "sit down again this time back towards me" soobin obliged like a good little puppy. the minute he sat down yeonjuns hands attacked soobins nipples and started playing and pinching them as the youngers back arched and moaned breathlessly. soobins actions gave yeonjun access to his neck, which he immediately started kissing and marking with hickeys. soobin was moaning at the slightest of touch he was so touched starve he could've came then and there. "i bet that dick of yours is getting hard isn't it" yeonjun growled in his ears earning a moan from soobin. "spread you legs for me." yeonjun kept on hands on soobins chest,. going back and forth between his beautiful nipples while the other hand rubbed his hard cock all while peppering kisses all over his neck. "take these off baby" soobin lifted his hips just enough to slide his sweatpants along with his boxers down to his ankle and then shake them off. the minute he sat back down, yeonjuns hands wrapped themselves around soobins hard length earning a lewd moan from the younger. yeonjuns hands sped up as he whispered the filthiest words in soobins ear which made him buck his hips upwards. "get up" yeonjun demanded and the soobin immediately obliged watching the older with hungry eyes as he pulled out his cock. soobin could practically feel his mouth water at the sight of it and when yeonjun told him to sit down in front of him he wasted no time and obeyed immediately. "choke on it" soobin shoved the cock in his mouth and bobbed his head up and down ignore the urge to stop to breathe. the way yeonjun was groaning above him and calling him "his little cock sucking slut" made him reach down to stroke his own length, however, when yeonjun noticed this he immediately pushed soobins mouth off of him and instructed him to sit on his lap again. yeonjun grabbed his cock and lined uo against soobins. he grabbed soobins hands and wrapped them around both and their lengths. tye sight of their cocks pressed against each other made soobin twitch and blush. "stroke them until you cum" soobin swears he has seen such a hot sight. yeonjun under him with his cock pressed against his own and his hands resting under his head with the most beautiful smug expression painted across his face. soobin began to stroke their cocks with both hands and gradually picked up the pace. he was nearing his high when yeonjuns hands rested against his ass and growled "cum for me. cum all over my cock." and just like that soobin spilt all over yeonjuns cock. he didn't have time to come down from his high and yeonjun picked him up and bent him the desk. yeonjun was far too turned on at this point to tease soobin and longer. he aligned his cock in front of soobins entrance and slid himself in and soobin moaned and the overstimulation. yeonjun grabbed a fistful of soobins hair and pulled his head back as he thrust in and out of him. "shut up and take it" soobin was practically crying at this point but he loved it. he loved the way yeonjun was using him as his little fuck toy. he loved the way yeonjun would occasionally grab his neck and tighten his hold. but most of, he loved the sounds yeonjun made as he came. a beautiful melody laced with praises and curses. soobin swore hed never heard anything so close to perfection. as yeonjun pulled out he was quick to wrap his arms around soobins waist preventing him from collapsing. he laid him on the bed and began to clean up when... "WE'RE HOME"

[redthreadoffate]

gee, thanks, karen [peter parker]

a repost, originally posted in my former writing blog

relationship: peter parker x stark!reader

warnings: swearing, none; mistakes here or there

request (anon): hello!! how about hoco stark!reader x peter where he goes to her lab and asks for her help to fix the suit bc karen isn’t working well lately and while they low key flirt and fix the suit, she puts on the mask to check everything and karen starts telling her how much peter likes her, and she dies inside bc she likes him too and they kiss? maybe ending with irondad or bucky interrupting and they are like :o

notes:   i was going to use the other character in the end but i realized continuity wouldn’t make sense but then i was like fuck that, but I finished it already anyways…second out of the two peter parker x reader fics, it’ll be awhile before i agree to make them again

summary: karen’s broken and peter asks y/n stark for help

You were quietly working in your lab, humming every now and then to a tune that would pop into your head every so and so.

You thanked your father for giving you your own lab in the Avengers compound. There were cameras everywhere on your floor and you knew that he would be watching your every move when he could. Sometimes, you would wave at one camera when you knew he was in the control room. It would never fail to make you giggle, and Tony would always comment that you are such a silly little girl for laughing at your own antics.

Sometimes, some of the team members would come over and ask for your help if Tony was busy. Or they were too lazy to think of solutions on their own. But hey, who’s complaining about helping them?

They would need help with their gadgets, sometimes for work or fighting, most of the time for their everyday use, like their cellphones and laptops, tablets and watches. You don’t mind. In fact, you enjoy it. It makes you feel useful in this compound filled with superheroes.

Your favorite to help out was Peter Parker. He was also a genius with technology, but sometimes he needed a hand with his suit and weapons. You loved helping him out with his webshooters since there were so many possibilities for it. You were even the one who helped your father create his current suit with the Karen interface.

And although Peter turned down the calling of being an Avenger, he would still come over from time to time, and you noticed it’s mostly just to talk to you.

That thought made you smile. You stuck out your tongue and giggled a little in giddiness.

You continued to type in some data in the paper you were writing on. As much as you loved the technology of your father, you still loved the old fashioned pen and paper. It was easier to overlay if needed. You wanted to see all the possible choices before you typed it in the database.

But you thought of Peter again and that tickled your body. “Oh, come on. He isn’t over Liz Allan yet, you silly. He’s still hungover, he can’t be into me that quick. Can he?” But you shake your head.

You’re pretty good at telling if someone liked someone, except of course, when it came to you. But you pretend you do anyway. You have yet to be proven wrong. You smile and nod your head slowly, twirling the pen in your hand with your fingers. “Looks like you’ve got your groove on, y/n Stark.”

“What was that?”

You turned around, surprised to see your father standing behind you. A device in hand and a hologram sticking out. “Hi, Dad.”

“You’ve got your what on, y/n?”

You giggled nervously. “Nothing. It’s nothing, Dad. I was just talking to myself.”

“No, I wanna hear what you said. You’ve got your what on, y/n Stark?”

You sighed in defeat. “My groove,” you said softly.

“I can’t hear you.”

“My groove,” you repeated louder.

“Your groove, huh?” Tony nodded his head. “Well, you know what you should have, y/n? Your homework.”

“Dad,” you whined. “I’ll do that later. I’m in the middle of a discovery here.”

“Oh really? What is it? The end of homework.”

You raised your pen in the air. “That will be my project!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Just hurry so you can finish your homework. It’s a school day tomorrow, y/n. Remember that.”

You smiled sweetly. “Yes, Daddy.”

Tony left the room, leaving you alone.

You turned back to your paper and grit your teeth. So you lied about making a discovery. You were simply testing out some different designs for a suit you wanted to wear. It was very similar to the technology of your father’s but it had no name yet, you didn’t know what to call it, not even a working name.

You sit on the stool and tap the pen on the paper. “If I do this…then this happens, which, of course, I can’t let that happen. So I have to do this…but I have yet to figure out how this one works for it to be able to do that.” You sighed in frustration. “Okay, but if this does happen, which leads to this, then perhaps, just perhaps, it will reach my goal.”

You spin the chair around a few times until you get dizzy. “But we can’t say anything precise with just ‘perhaps’ can we? Oh, y/n, you gotta try a bit harder if you wanna reach the Tony Stark level.”

Finally, after about an hour, you decided that you’ve had enough. You shut down your lab and head to your room to do some homework. “See you tomorrow,” you said with a yawn. “To new discoveries!” You raise your balled fist in the air.

You’re in the middle of a math problem when someone knocks on your door. You groan, you like math and you were getting the answer to this certain number.

“Come in!” you called out, not bothering to look at the door. It was probably just your dad and you wanted him to see you concentrating.

“Hey, y/n.”

You looked up at the young voice. It was Peter Parker and he was holding his Spider-man mask in his hand. “Oh, Peter. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“When am I ever expected?” he snickered.

You smiled and laughed a little. “True.”

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked. He gestured toward your table and smiled. “You look like you’re doing some homework.”

“It’s no problem,” you said with a shrug. “It’s just math.”

“Which you absolutely love,” he responded with a cheery tone. He knew that was something you two had in common. “You hate it when you’re being interrupted when you do your math problems.”

You squint one eye. “That is true, too.” You looked at him for awhile before he raised his eyebrows. “Will you just let me finish this one math problem. I’m almost done, I swear. I just need a few digits to write. Sit.”

He laughed and nodded as he sat on the other chair. “There’s no need to explain, y/n. I’m the intruder and I interrupted you during your favorite subject. Go on, go on. Take as much time as you need.”

You smiled and half-jokingly said, “You say that and I’ll finish the whole homework.” Then you continued answering the number. After you’ve secretly finished answering one more number, you turned back to him and grinned. “Done! Now what did you want to talk about?”

“There’s something wrong with Karen,” he replied, holding up his mask.

“Oh no!” You exclaim, standing up and grabbing his mask. “Not Karen! What did you do, Peter Parker?”

He laughed nervously. “I may have fallen flat on my face.”

You looked at him immediately. Now that he mentioned it, his nose was a bit broken and he had a cut on his lip and some scratches along his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, although you know that it’s too late to ask that now. “Have you gone to the clinic?”

“I can’t go to my school’s infirmary or the hospital and mobile clinics,” he chuckled, “without being asked what had happened.”

“Why don’t you go to the one downstairs?”

He shrugged. “Can we fix Karen first?”

You sighed. “Okay, sure. Come on.”

The two of you left your room and walked over to your lab.

You tinker with the technology your father put in but you also recognize some of the pieces you’ve planted in the interface.

Peter did everything he could to help, in fact, there were moments wherein his mind thought of the better solutions. You weren’t undermining his brains, no, of course not, but you were also thinking of your own pride, you did put some of the tidbits that was the reason as to why Karen had come to life.

“You’re really good at this,” Peter said.

“Only because I want to impress you,” you replied. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Parker.”

“Only because a pretty girl is with me.”

You look at him with a smirk playing in your lips. “So how’s Liz Allan holding up?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she hates me.”

“I would hate you, too. You know, if you told me you needed a rain check for our homecoming date when we’re in the homecoming dance.”

“Aw come on, I’d never do that to you, y/n. I like you.”

You laughed. “And I like you, too.” You shake your head. “Go to the clinic, Mr. Parker. We’re almost done with Karen.”

He sighed and patted his mask. “See you, girl.”

You snickered.

After a few minutes, you think Karen is doing okay. So you do the thing everyone would do to test it out, you wear the mask.

“Hello, y/n.”

“Oh, hello, Karen. I didn’t know you still remembered me.”

“I will always remember you, y/n. Peter thinks very highly of you.”

“He does?” you gasped.

“Yes. He would constantly talk about you, asking me if you’re okay. I would watch him talking to himself in the mirror, practicing how to ask you out. He likes you very much, y/n. And based on your facial reaction and heatwave, I can tell you like him, too.”

“Y/n!”

You unmasked yourself and see Peter with a red face. “I can explain,” you both said at the same time. “I like you!” Again, in unison.

Peter rushed towards you to give you a kiss. “I know Karen said I’ve been practicing,” he said against your lips, “please don’t watch those. Those are really embarrassing.”

“Your nose is still broken,” is all you can say, murmuring.

“I’ll go later,” he said.

You giggle. “There are cameras, we’ll get cau–”

“What is going on here?” Tony’s voice boomed.

“Oops,” you both say, a goofy smile on your faces.

[heath-ur]

00Q Kinktober - Day 10

Prompt List ; Ao3 Pairing: Bond x Q  Prompt: Dirty Talk Warnings: Smut, No Beta

Bond’s POV. For the first time! And I can’t keep plot from train-wrecking this. Oh well. You can skip to below the ~*~ if you’re here for smut and not for Q’s cats.

James lets himself into Q’s flat using the keyfob the boffin had given him after the last time he’d slept over nearly 2 weeks ago. At the time, he’d been a little surprised at the trust, but Q had explained patiently that the only things of importance he kept in his flat were his cats and his teas. The prior James was too besotted with to ever hurt and the second was beneath his notice. Q strived hard to keep his work and personal life separate, selections of previous and current partners excluded, so the only electronics that held any sensitive data were the tablet and laptop he kept on his person.  

Q had continued on as if he hadn’t shown James his throat, “Besides, the cats miss you something terrible when you’re away on mission. This way, you can come visit even if I’m still at the office.”

Well, he was back from another mission. And he could admit to himself that he missed a certain boffin and his two ridiculously cute cats. So here he was at 7 in the morning, letting himself in.

The cats were quick to clamber to the door - Gambit and Zugzwang both, even though the little tuxedo tabby was less curious than his bicolored brother - and rub against his crisped trousers. James slips the door closed quickly so Gambit couldn’t escape and bends down to scoop up little Zug to give his chin some clucks before he gets too shy. 

Q must not be awake yet - they wouldn’t be so expressive if they’d been loved on yet.

There is a moan from the couch that has James on alert, but he keeps his body relaxed so as not to concern Zuggy - the poor thing was so high-strung as it was; he didn’t need more stress in his life. He gently places the cat into the little cave portion of the cat tower that took up a good quarter of the living room wall and faces the possible intruder sleeping on the couch. 

The man has on a rumpled suit and his face pressed into the back of the couch. Just off a bender, then. James tries to keep his sense of jealousy in check. When it was just fun and games, he hadn’t minded the thought of Q with someone else - he certainly had more than his fair share of sexual partners. But then Q had told him about Alec and told Alec that they were it. And Alec and James had agreed - honeypots only. Q’d given him a keyfob to his home, for chrissakes. So this man couldn’t be a one-night-stand. He couldn’t be, but James wanted to murder him anyways. 

As if the man could sense James’ murderous thoughts, he pulls his face back enough to squint at the form over him. His face goes through several facial expressions - confusion, fear, concern - before settling into into a blank mask of ‘fuck it’. 

“Tanner,” James recognizes him now. He schools his mask into something a little more pleasant. The man was straight and 100% in love with his wife - Elenore or Elizabeth. El-something. 

“Q!” Tanner calls out, then whines in pain as it makes his headache worse. He keeps going, though. “Q! Please call off your menace of a bookend!”

After a few thumps and stumbles from the bedroom, Q comes to lean against the door jam, hair disarrayed, scrubbing his bare eyes, sleep pants slung low. “There’s no need to shout, and Gambit isn’t a menace. He just wants love. And they aren’t identical, why must you come up with weird twin references? Why are so you insistent about hating my cats, Bill? They...oh.” He’s opened his eyes and is staring at James before a smile takes over his face. “Welcome home, James.”

James can’t help but smile back, “I’m home. I thought I’d pop over to see my favorite kitten,” He steps over to Zuggy to pet him as he says it, but from the corner of his eye he can see how flushed Q becomes. “I wasn’t expecting you to have company.”

Q shrugs, “Some of us from the office went out last night. The ladies - R and Moneypenny - decided to leave us when I’d ceased to be amusing.” 

Tanner makes a noise in the back of his throat. “They did want to know how much you remembered in the morning.” 

Q squints in Tanner’s direction, “Enough. My retribution will be swift and devastating.” 

Tanner pales, but James isn’t sure if that is due to Q’s threat or his hangover. Either way, the man excuses himself from the flat as soon as he has his shoes on and tells Q he’ll see him tomorrow. Q grunts in his direction and stumbles up to James to press his head into James’ shoulder to block out the light. 

James finds himself curling his hands in Q’s hair gently, teasing the tangles out in small sections as they begin to sway. Gambit presses between their feet in a bid for attention, but James ignores him for now. 

Q makes a fussy sound when James begins leading him back to bed, but allows the manhandling like he always does. In moments, James has the curtains closed against the light and they’re both curled under the covers, Q clinging to James’ pectoral. 

~*~

When James wakes next, it’s to Q wiggling in his arms. As he lets go, Q shoots out of bed and to the bathroom. The sound is pissing, not vomiting, so James lays back and tucks his arms under his head and waits patiently for the boffin to finish his morning routine and feel more human again. 

Q easily clambers back into the bed and leans over for a kiss, breath minty and eyes clear. “Welcome home. Or have I said that already?” 

James chuckles and kisses Q a few more times. “You’ve already said, but I don’t mind hearing it again. DId you have a good night?” 

Q wrinkles his nose and presses his morning erection into James’ hip. “They got me drunk and began interrogating me over the both of you. I’ll need to infiltrate their mobiles later to make sure they didn’t make a recording, the ungrateful bints.” 

James cages Q in and reverses their positions, “Oh? What naugthy things did you say about us?”

Q scoffs. “They just wanted to know if the both of you were proportionate, how fit you were. Things like that.” He rolls his hips. “I didn’t say anything about our previous… hmm, encounters. Although Moneypenny was there when I first met Alec. And R knew why I was slipping away into my office that one time.” 

James lowers his mouth to kiss Q’s cheeks, the hinge of his jaw, his neck. He murmurs in Q’s ear, “So you didn’t tell them about how I pressed you against a wall so tight that all you could do was squirm to get off?” He presses his thigh in tight against Q’s cock as a reminder, relishing in Q’s moan, in the nails scraping across his back. 

“You didn’t tell them how you went to your knees for Alec within minutes of meeting him?” James bites down on a particularly pretty patch of neck. Q bucks up in shock, whimpering. James continues, “You didn’t tell them how you worked him over so well he pulled on your pretty curls so hard he thought he’d accidentally hurt you - until you asked oh so sweetly for more?” Q whines high in his throat, flush blooming in his cheeks and down his neck and chest, crawling down further in blotches and spots. His eyes were glazed, only a ring of green to be seen around the saucers of his pupils. 

“James… James please,” Q begs so gently - completely at opposition to the scratching and pulling of his hands. 

“Do you like that, darling? Do you like to know that we talk about our feisty kitten when we’re away? That we share what we like best? What you like best?” James immobilizes Q’s hands in  one of his, keeping them above their heads. At the same time, he shifts his weight to press the palm of his free hand down hard on Q’s chest just centered against his collarbones. He keeps his eyes focused on Q’s face, to make sure that he’s up for it. 

Q keens and thrashes, but no matter how hard he bucks, he can’t switch their positions. He doesn’t want to - James can see that in his face, in the way that Q’s lips are curling upwards at the same time that tears gather in his eyes. Oh, this perfect little force of nature. James grinds his cock next to Q’s, tensing his abs so Q gets the rub of those muscles he likes so much. 

James sucks and bites a ring of bruises against Q’s neck, just above his hand where they will be covered by a shirt later. “Alec was so upset that he couldn’t show me the beautiful bruises he left in his kitten’s skin to remember him by. Instead, he told me in detail about those cute little hiccups you make when you cried… and all I could think of was how much you cried when I had you in this bed for the first time. Do you remember? You struggled just like this before you let it go for me. Will you let go?” 

Q fusses and cries, he drums his feet like he had that first time, but soon enough he stops his false struggling and melts into the bed. James groans and ruts into the hollow of Q’s hip.

“So good for me,” He croons. “So good for us. Alec told me how much of a mess you left on that sofa.” He chuckles. “Wasn’t it the same one Tanner just spent the night on?” Q gasps and whines but keeps himself still, letting James do as he pleases. “Hmm... “ James sighs into Q’s skin. “Yeah, just like this, baby. Listen to you,” James coos and starts a rhythm with his hips. “Feel what a mess you’re making between us. Won’t you make it a little messier? For me, darling? I can’t wait to tell Alec what a good boy you’ve been for us.”

Q’s moan tapers out in surprise as he comes, thighs and arms tensing before becoming lax again. The extra slick and heat, along with the feeling of Q boneless and trusting below him, is enough to send James over the edge as well. 

James doesn't hesitate to drop most of his weight down on the slighter man as he takes time to catch his breath and stretch out his arms. Q tsks but only wraps James closer as soon as he has his hands free, raising his knees to better fit James between his thighs.  

Once the come between them begins to cool and congeal, James sighs but pulls away to go get a wet flannel from Q’s connected loo. When he comes back into the room, Q is still belly-up, but his face is covered by a pillow and his arms, as if he’s trying to smother himself. James pads up quietly and begins cleaning up the mess, leaning down to leave a kiss on Q’s nipple. Q squeaks but otherwise doesn’t move. 

“Too much?” James asks gently as he lays back into the bed, propping himself up on one arm.

Q mumbles. 

“Run that past me again?” 

Q lifts the pillow to expose his mouth and nose, but keeps his eyes hidden. “Good. Just…You two really do talk about me, don’t you?”

James laughs gently. “Did you not believe us?” He slips his hands down and around Q’s skin in random patterns. “We’ve said similar things before.” 

Q’s blush returns and he squirms, but he raises the pillow to squint in James’ direction. “Not like that, you haven’t.” His voice sounds both cross and embarrassed. 

James pauses his hand. “Would you prefer we stopped now that we know we’re speaking about the same person? Or would you just prefer that I don’t tell you?”

Q looks up to the ceiling. “No…. no. You can keep doing both. I just… didn’t realize how it would make me feel.” James begins his hand again and snuggles up closer. 

“That feeling is good, though?”

Q sighs and finally loses all of his tension. “Yes. Very… good.” 

James doesn’t miss how Q’s mostly-soft cock twitches in remembrance, and grins to himself. “Does this mean you’ll let us take pictures?”

Q makes an offended sound and tries to push James out of bed.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Planetary Defenses: The battle of Pluto.

On the frozen planet of Pluto sat one of the most important communication stations in the entire system.  Roughly the size of three city blocks in length and two in width, Station 73 was a massive mobile platform that was constantly moving around the planet on specialized tracks. Manned by some 63 people, the station was responsible for maintaining and updating several communication satellites that orbited the planet and launching new ones from several vertical launchers.   Originally Pluto housed several monitoring stations each crewed with trained personnel. While initially successful after the individual stations began experiencing problems due to the ever changing nature of the planet. Ice that was solid today would shatter like paper tomorrow without warning sending several stations plummeting to the cold depths of the planet. After several such incidents happened it was deemed that a mobile station would be better suited to the planet and prevent further loss of life as the stations constant moving would allow it to avoid the more dangerous ice breaks.  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ”Hey Charlie, could you come here for a minute?”  Charlie had just entered the operations control room when he was called over.  ”We in for another meteor shower again?” He approached the console and took a look at the readings while casually taking a sip of his coffee.  ”These readings don’t look like they’re meteors. If I’m reading this right it looks like they’re under power.”  Charlie leaned over the console and saw the data stream. Several large objects were closing in on Pluto. “Maybe they’re the supply ship coming to restock us.” The man at the console looked at his screen and scratched his head. “I thought that myself, but they usually only send a single ship and they’re not due to resupply us for another week.”  ”Well that does-” ”Charlie!” He turned as another crew member shouted for him. “We’re getting a system wide warning alert!”  ”Put it on speaker.” The crew member flipped some switches and the audio began playing.  ”Attention. The Sol system is currently under attack by a hostile force. Repeat, the Sol system is currently under attack by a hostile force. Obey all military announcements and report to your nearest safe zones. Attention-” The message continued repeating itself but Charlie wasn’t listening anymore. The mug fell from his hand as he raced over to the station wide speaker system. “All personnel, we report to your stations. Repeat, all crew to their stations!”  ”I want this hunk of frozen metal moving and I want it moving now! Max speed!”  Charlie called out as he darted between consoles.  The station driver pushed the throttle to max and the platform lurched as it began moving across the frozen surface with increasing speed. “You know we’re on a planet smaller than a moon, right Charlie?” the driver called out as he continued monitoring the speed. “We can’t exactly outrun them.” ”I’m well aware of that,” charlie said as he waved several arriving crew to man their consoles, “but if there was ever a worse time to be a sitting duck it’s now.” ”I’ve got movement on the contacts!” charlie pushed past a crew member to look at the monitoring station. “Several smaller craft have broken off and are making their way to us.” ”Frak.” He began pacing back and forth trying to think of a plan. “Arm all anti meteor guns and narrow their targeting parameters to fire on anything flying faster than a penny falling down a drain pipe.”  ”But what if the contacts are friendly?” “Do you know any friends that rush at you head long when there’s an intruder in your house?”  “Well there was this one time in Vegas-”  “Shut it!” ”Anti meteor guns have been reconfigured, but I don’t think they’ll be enough.” Charlie pinched the tip of his brow and when he opened his eyes again he an idea. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Gloven ground forces detached from their transports into assault craft and descended to the frozen planet.  While not a military installation, the mobile Pluto station was the nerve center for all communications to and from the Sol system. Taking control of it would silence any potential cries for help and cut off the human government from the rest of human territory.  Javal loaded his scatter rifle and checked his enviro suit once more. “Look at this little larva, he thinks the humans will put up a fight.” One of the more senior squad members called out at Javal’s final checks rising a round of laughter from the other soldiers.  Before he could reply he was cut off by the pilot. “Eyes on target, opening drop doors now.”  The metallic doors to the assault craft slowly rolled open to reveal the glistening surface of Pluto. In the distance Javal could make out their target, a crude station built upon treads churning across the frozen surface. Several assault craft pulled alongside his own as they took up attack formation.  The same senior squad member from before pushed passed Javal and looked out at the station, snorting in amusement. “This will be over i-” The front cockpit of the assault craft next to Javal’s exploded. The burning husk not yet realizing that it was flying lifeless and drifted into the craft beside it sending the two of them plummeting to the icy surface.  Javal grabbed hold of the grip handle dangling from the craft’s ceiling as it banked hard. “Incoming anti-air! Evade! Evade!”  Before the doors slammed shut again Javal saw the other craft scattering as short flashes of light began darting past them. “They told us that this place was unarmed!” “Varga break off, you can’t make it!” Javal heard over the comms. “We can make it! We get our soldiers on board and this is o-”. The link went dead with static, the craft had most likely been shot down.  “We can’t get any closer. You’ll have to make it on foot!”  The assault craft made a rapid descent to the surface before a loud *thud* told Javal they had reached the surface. The doors popped open again and his team rushed out on to the surface.  His suit latched on to the surface of the planet and ensured he wouldn’t be cast off into space due to the low gravity. Now beneath the anti-air guns the squad was able to move up on the station as it continued rolling away.  Javal could make out the target through his helmet’s visors when he noticed three strange tower like structures ascending from it. “Commander, something is extending from the target.” “Continue the advance.” The short response was all that was needed to know his commander was not happy with the situation. He enhanced his visor to the strange towers. Without warning small objects began shooting out of them one by one, appearing only as a blur. Before he could call out a warning a plume of ice shot up in front of his squad.  “They have artillery? On a planet like this?!?!?” The senior squad member whined as he doubled his pace. Plumes of ice were now shooting up all around them, some sending shards of ice straight through the helmets of his teammates.  Passing by one of the craters, he noticed that instead of the fragments of an artillery shell there was a strange metal sphere like object with several antennae protruding from it. Was this..one of the satellites? Where they firing satellites at them? 

[lynenspray]

summit

summary: joohyun, the chairperson of the board, makes time out of her busy schedule to visit and check in on the CEO of the company.

(yerene, mommy kink, slight bondage, exhibitionism)

*yerene path for the CEO!yerim verse

***hoejangnim = chairperson of the board

---

joohyun taps her fingers against the file on her lap. she had looked over the same sheets again and again for over three hours now, the clock on yerim's desk showing that it was half past eight in the evening. not that joohyun couldn't tell from the night outside, seen through the large windows beside her. 

she sighs. yerim is a brat for keeping her waiting, but she always does her best with every task, so joohyun can't really fault her for having her priorities straight. the report on her performance this week shows how dedicated the younger woman was to her company.

her gaze lifts from the papers at hand when the door clicks open, yerim stepping inside and leaving the entrance slightly ajar. it takes the younger woman a second before she noticed that joohyun was seated on her chair.

"oh! hoejangnim. I've kept you here so late," yerim mentions, her tone apologetic but not explicit about it. "I was in a meeting at the bottom floor."

joohyun tilts her head, humming before leaving the weekly report on yerim's large desk, getting up from yerim's chair, walking around yerim's office. everything here belongs to the young prodigy, even the view. 

"was it about the station X project?" joohyun asks, casually looking at the collection of books along the wall. the dim mood lights of the younger woman's office made a good ambience for reading, but that's not what joohyun had in plan tonight after being disrespected like this.

"yes. we decided to scrap it," yerim replies, tone nonchalant.

joohyun nods, focusing on the conversation at hand. she can give her hell later. "the market predictions for that venture suddenly took a turn, so it was the right decision. I expect similar news about it this coming monday."

the younger woman nods. "yes, hoejangnim. I expect the same."

"and it looks like the acquisition of KSG is finally bearing fruit. the results in that sector looks good so far, and data shows that it's going to keep that way for at least another six months. did you predict this when you decided to buy them out?" 

"yes, hoejangnim."

"then I'll mention it to the board during the next quarterly meeting. your performance has been consistently excellent, even by our standards."

"I'm happy to be part of the success of the company."

"but," joohyun says, clicking her tongue. the younger only gives her a questioning look as she turns to the wall. 

the older woman flips through a random book before placing it back in the bookshelf, preoccupying herself before having to confront the CEO on her attitude towards her, the chairperson on the board that's keeping the CEO in her position in the first place. 

"none of that is enough to merit your behavior, such as making me wait on you for three hours." she turns to see that the CEO's face remains expressionless. "don't you think, CEO-nim?" 

a few seconds pass before yerim replies with, "I agree, hoejangnim."

joohyun eyes her. the younger woman's body was stiff, and her eyes stared straight ahead, but the line of her lips looked unsteady. joohyun walks closer until she comes face to face with the CEO, seeing bags under her eyes and a trickle of sweat dripping down her forehead. joohyun hums, moving even closer, watching yerim's face flush at their proximity. 

"that has repercussions, don't you agree?" 

"I… I agree, hoejangnim. I accept any punishment you deem fitting for slighting you.”

joohyun scoffs. of course she accepts. she has no other choice but to. anything and everything uttered out of joohyun’s mouth was law, especially when it came to yerim. “it seems you’ve forgotten just who’s in charge here, yerim-ah.” she lets her breath linger along yerim’s jaw, watching the skin in front of her heat up with a blush as she says, “should I remind you?”

yerim’s voice cracks into a whine when she replies next, and joohyun hides a smirk at the desperate look in yerim's eyes. “yes.”

joohyun unbuttons the cream blazer of the younger woman. it looks like yerim didn't even bother putting on anything else under her jacket, joohyun's fingers meeting only skin and her bra. 

"yes, what, yerim-ah?" 

she hears the younger swallow hard before letting out a shaky sigh as joohyun's hands slip under her bra and circle her stiffening peaks. "yes, mommy."

joohyun retracts her hands. "good. now strip."

the younger woman holds back an obvious whimper. she must be disappointed that she has to peel her clothes off herself–joohyun usually did it herself, after all. with her hands. her teeth. her gaze locked with the CEO's. 

yerim steps out of the pile of her discarded clothes on the floor, and joohyun walks to the door left ajar. she pauses when her hand rests on the knob before chuckling. my, my, what a naughty girl. 

"did you leave this open on purpose, yerim-ah?" 

the CEO doesn't move from her place, back facing the entry to her office, inches away from the table perpendicular to her desk, stark naked. she doesn't give a response either. 

joohyun knows the grin on her own face looks feral. yerim was being naughtier than usual. 

"maybe you want someone to pass by, hm? you want them to see just how fucking dirty their CEO is, getting fucked by the chairperson?" 

yerim hisses out a breath, and joohyun chuckles darkly, pushing the wood open wider. the hallway outside is bright, which allows light to leak into the room. it isn't enough for someone to be able to peek inside–the lights were still too dim for that–but just knowing that it was a possibility to be seen, to get caught, is enough. 

"stay put," joohyun orders, in case yerim had any inclinations to start touching herself. the older woman opens the second drawer on the desk, finding just what she's looking for. and more. "these weren't here the last time…" 

she picks up the familiar pussybow tie made from sleek black silk. yerim wore this last week when they'd met–joohyun had shoved it into her mouth to keep her from making noise as she fucked her against the door. 

there was also yerim's favorite bullet vibrator in the corner of the storage space, but joohyun only slides it shut, satisfied for now. 

"bend over, honey. you want them to see your pink pussy lips, don't you?" joohyun draws out, watching yerim move in the shadows to cater to her demand. 

the younger woman leans forward, chest against the marble desk, her ass and cunt in full view, facing the entrance to her office. if anyone walked in and turned the lights on, they'd be greeted with the sight of yerim bent over, her hole oozing out slick quim, clenching around nothing but air. 

joohyun takes her time to circle back until she's behind yerim again, the silk tie in hand. "what did you want me to do with this?" 

yerim doesn't make a sound, only breathes out against the marble desk. so joohyun slaps an exposed ass cheek, ripping a cry out of the CEO, followed by a whine. 

"answer mommy," the older woman growls. "and tell her what you wanted her to do with this."

joohyun places a hand against her back and holds her down, making the younger woman groan. "blindfold me," she gasps out breathlessly. "I wanted mommy to blindfold me."

the older woman grins darkly and presses her front against yerim's exposed center, savoring the whimper she hears come from the younger woman at the feeling of her package. 

"you think you're going to get what you want?" she asks, pressing her bulge harshly against yerim's heat, eating up the delirious sounds the younger woman made. when she doesn't receive an answer, joohyun slaps yerim's other cheek. that should wake her up. 

"n-no!" yerim sobs, hands scrambling and slipping on the tabletop from her sweat, grinding back against her bulge. "I-I'm sorry, mommy!"

"damn right you're sorry," joohyun grits her teeth, sinking her nails into the soft flesh of yerim's butt. "you think you're hot shit, huh? just because you're the CEO?" 

"ah!" yerim cries and whines when joohyun slaps her once more. "no! I'm sorry, I won't–I won't do that again!" 

the older woman drags her fingers against the naked flesh of the younger woman. "who's the boss, yerim-ah? who brings out the dirty little slut in you?" 

yerim sobs into her arms, desperately tilting and pushing her hips back, joohyun minimising the friction between yerim's center and her bulging crotch by holding the younger woman firmly against the marble. "you, mommy," she pants. 

the older woman pulls yerim up by grabbing her hair and gently tugging her, yerim following her whims, limbs useless, the ultimate sign of her submission. "a bad little girl like you deserves to be punished." 

she guided yerim until they both faced the door, joohyun leaning back against the table as yerim stands in front of her. 

"put your hands behind your back, yerim-ah. I know a better use for this tie." yerim does as she's told and joohyun knots the silk in place, swiftly binding her wrists together.

the older woman then unzips her slacks and lets them fall to her knees; she didn't need to have much mobility for this, because yerim was going to do all the work. joohyun uncurled the fake cock attached to her underwear, wincing at the pull of the harness against her skin. three hours was a long time to be wearing this thing, double use or not.

she carefully brushed the tip of the silicone against yerim’s labia, making the younger girl visibly tremble. joohyun’s solution was to hold her by her long blonde hair.

“you tired me out by making me wait,” the older woman said, smirking as she tugged on yerim’s hair, causing the younger woman’s pussy to swallow another inch of her strap. “so why don’t you come and fuck yourself instead.”

joohyun let her grip on the younger woman’s hair stay loose, unwilling to help yerim in any way. she can set the pace all she wants–it doesn’t matter. yerim will still see the fault in her thinking she could take control of what happens in this office when joohyun is around.

although she can’t feel what’s happening between their sexes, joohyun can imagine it. the slight resistance of yerim’s cunt and the squelching sound made an awfully detailed image. joohyun feels the push against her hips as the dick bottoms out, yerim gasping for breath and arching her back beautifully, joohyun feelingl it as she palmed the sweaty skin.

yerim takes a second too long to relax, so joohyun slaps her ass again.

“fuck! mommy, mommy,” yerim sobs, rocking herself against joohyun’s strap. her position is far from comfortable, but that’s the point. she only thinks she’s in control. the truth is that joohyun is.

“do you like it, you slut?” joohyun grunts as yerim speeds up and knocks back onto her roughly.

yerim continues moaning, grunting every few thrusts. “yes, mommy, so good,” she blubbers out almost deliriously, and joohyun smirks wider.

“who gives it to you this good, yerim-ah?”

the younger woman cries when joohyun tugs on her hair. “haah, ah, fuck,” she gasps as joohyun responds with her hips in turn, finally meeting the poor woman’s demands. “y-you, mommy.”

“and who’s the reason you’re still here, hm? is it your eomma and appa?” joohyun grins as yerim’s weight pushes forward. the CEO was already losing strength in her limbs, just as the older woman wanted. “fucking answer me,” the chairperson hisses out and squeezes yerim’s hip, pounding into her, the sound of their hips slapping together echoing in the room and possibly even out the hallway.

“ah! it’s you, mommy, you,” yerim mewled, no longer bucking her hips back into joohyun’s, letting the chairperson have her way with her instead.

“that’s right, it’s me. I can replace you anytime with the snap of my finger, you dirty slut. don’t fucking forget that.” joohyun clicked her tongue when she felt yerim’s body get heavier, quickly pulling out and letting go, yerim collapsing into a kneel on the rug, gasping heavily. the older woman untied the binds on the younger’s wrists before making her stand, pushing her onto the table so she was on her back.

the older woman discarded her pants and shoes before swiftly closing the door and turning on the lights–revealing yerim’s flushed nakedness to whoever bothers to look into the window, its curtains set aside and of no use. 

not that there was any building around with this high of a floor, anyway.

joohyun grabs yerim’s legs and proceeds to tie her ankles instead, lifting the youngers legs and placing it atop her left shoulder. the position made for a tighter fit, and yerim’s stuttered gasp proves this as joohyun penetrates her lips with the strap once again.

“oh, fuck, mommy, yes,” the younger woman grunted, hair splayed against the dark marble, arms raised above her head. “right there–right there!”

the resistance is different too; joohyun can feel it in the drag of the cock as she pulls out, much tighter, as if yerim’s pussy didn’t want to let go. she tilts her hips up, hitting the front side of yerim’s inner walls, watches yerim’s breasts bounce from her thrusts, and takes note of how yerim’s back arches against the hard surface.

joohyun grunts as she reaches for yerim’s face, tilting it towards the window where their bodies were reflected against the glass. “look at yourself, you slut,” she hisses, holding yerim down as she continues to pump her hips against yerim’s ass. “how’s the view from the ‘top’?”

the older woman furrows her brows when she spots yerim’s eyes flicking towards her instead. “so good, mommy.”

that’s it. joohyun lets go of the younger woman’s face and starts rapidly slamming into the younger woman (–ah, ah, ah, mommy!–), pounding against her with her hips while holding the CEO’s legs against her (–mommy mommy pleasepleaseplease–), watching yerim’s body quake and convulse as she comes (–oh my god, oh fuck!). 

she pumps into the younger woman all the while, prolonging her orgasm with well-timed thrusts until yerim relaxed completely and raised a hand to half-heartedly stop her from fucking her further, breathing heavily.

and when joohyun pulls out, she does so slowly, kissing the outside of yerim’s thigh in appeasement when the younger woman gasps from the feeling of being emptied. she ingrains the sight of the yerim on the table, eyes covered by an arm over her face, skin glistening with sweat from their intercourse. 

what a pretty sight. joohyun is never going to get tired of putting the CEO in her place–especially if this is how she looks in her afterglow every time.

if the board tries to find any reason at all to strip yerim of her CEO position and, consequently, separate her and joohyun–the older woman would rip them to shreds. 

no one is allowed to take this sight away from her: the actual view from the top.

---

[rmjagonshi]

In For A Penny, In For A Pound - Chp 3

On AO3

Amidst the giggling and affectionate name calling, the toe fish were baked and shredded. The evening was spent eating bland fish smothered with cheese and re-hydrated guacamole. Ford had dug through their cupboards and pulled out a box of chipackers and powdered sugar. They’d used some leftover butter and water to make a crude frosting and had a desert of hobo cookies. Two folding deck chairs were pushed together, an empty bucket used as a table in the small space. The bowl of frosting sat between them, forgotten, as they watched the stars and listened to the sounds of the ocean. With no light pollution from the city, the sky lit up with millions upon billions of stars, all twinkling more brilliant than any light show Stan had ever seen. Even living in Gravity Falls, far off the beaten path, the skies were nothing like they were out on the ocean. Ford pointed out what stars and constellations and galaxies he could remember; holding Stan’s hand and helping him trace the patterns in the night sky.

Stories of Greek and Roman gods and heroes gave way to reminiscing and inside jokes. Ford regaled him with tales of his inter-dimensional travels and Stan retorted with his own sordid history of crime and punishment, and his own experience with the paranormal creatures in Gravity Falls. Though it hadn’t been as detailed or as scientific as Ford’s, Stan had tried keeping a journal of his own to keep track of everything he had learned about physics, and all the weird stuff he’d encountered. He’d been on first name basis with some of the gnomes and manitaurs, part of the reason they had run to the mystery shack when things got hairy at the end of the summer. They were both flopped on deck, a giggling mess by the time either one thought to go to bed. It was fucking magical.

Stan’s heart was light when he curled up into his freshly cleaned sheets. Not even the memories beginning to prickle at the edges of his mind could ruin his night.

“Hey, not to push, but we really are getting’ low on supplies. Think well be alright fer another week or so. Wouldn’t give it much more than that. But it’s up to you.” It wasn’t completely a lie. They were getting low. The ship’s storage could only hold two, maybe three months’ worth of food and water tablets before they had to start stacking cans in the bathroom.

“Yeah. We can hit port. The ‘toe-fish’ as you call them really aren’t that strange. They act like any other species of Atlantic cod, aside from their odd appearance. I think I have enough data to document them. We can head for Ireland starting tomorrow.” Ford had already pulled off his sweater to change and was now hunched over his bunk, straightening the sheets. Stan’s eyes traveled over the scars and ink that littered his brother’s back and arms. He felt his gut tighten and his hands hitched with the desire to reach out and touch them. It had been a long few months before Ford was ready to show Stan the damage the past thirty years had done. Stan knew they were there, knew where each one had come from, but it didn’t make seeing them any easier. Sure, Stan had his own fair share of scars, but they were few and far between compared to his brother.

Stan bit his lip to hold back saying something that really didn’t need to be said. Not at this point. He let his mind drift as he watched the muscles of Ford’s back shift and slide under the raised scars and burns. He was still amazed at how much stronger Ford was. Gone was the lanky teen from their youth. Gone was the scrawny researcher he’d caught a glimpse of that late January day. Ford was muscular, but not overly buff. Lean, like a runner. Legs able to sprint a mile with little effort and arms that could throw a punch to match Stan’s own. It was kinda hot. Intrusive thoughts prodded at Stan’s mind, but he shook his head to get rid of them. Not now. Not ever, but really not now.

Ford turned, picking up the discarded tank he slept in, and caught Stan’s eye. Stan turned his head, staring at the wall to give his brother privacy. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…I just…thinkin’s all. Didn’t mean ta stare.”

“No, Stan. It’s fine. I…it helps…sometimes…for you to see them. Helps me be more comfortable in my own skin.” Ford rolled his knuckles and flexed his fingers as he spoke. He smiled and held up his hand, fingers spread. “Of course, you’ve always helped me feel comfortable about myself.” Stan chuckled, giving his brother a shy smile. But it was getting too touchy feely for his tastes. Any way too intimate.

“Yeah. If you’re gonna be made fun of, it’s gonna be about your nerd personality, not how ya look. Besides, can’t be a badass pirate without the badass scars to go with it.” Ford had pulled on his shirt and sat on the now perfectly straightened sheets.

“Stanley, we aren’t pirates.”

“Yes we are.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Yes, Poindexter, we are. We were in international waters, and took control of the abandoned Iceland research buoy without permission. Ergo. Pirates.” Ford had reworked the buoy’s internal system to act as a satellite sonar beacon. It was bobbing about two miles from their ship. They’d go and pick it up before they headed to port the next day.

“I…” But Ford didn’t really have a response. While the buoy hadn’t been active, it was still Icelandic property. Technically, they had stolen it. Technically, Stan was right. They were pirates. “Shut up, Knucklehead.”

“HA! I’ll get the cloth from port and sew up a nice pirate flag! Unless ya want ta string up our shirts like we did before?”

“No. And you are NOT raising a pirate flag. Do you have any idea what would happen if we ran into the coastguard?”

“Which coastguard?”

“Any! It’s bad enough that I’ve got a criminal record the length of the Mississippi, thanks to you, and you are legally deceased. We don’t need anymore legal trouble.” Ford had curled up under the three blankets he insisted on having to keep warm. Stan, being the human furnace he was, was fine with just a sheet most nights. Hot and cold, the two of them.

“Get some sleep, Stan. We’ll set out tomorrow.”

“Night, Sixer.”

Stan and Ford drifted off with the slow rocking of the boat and the gentle sounds of the ocean waves.

Stan stretched out his spine, letting his back ease into the soft mattress. The boat rocking back and forth with the smallest of motions. He felt warm. The sheet around him growing softer and heavier. He could hear music. Light and unobtrusive. A lullaby. Wait. There were words. Someone was singing? Stan blinked open his eyes to be greeted by a smiling stuffed rabbit. It was tiny and hung on a string above his bed with four other tiny stuffed toys. A mobile. His mom was singing, off somewhere else. But it was okay. She was near. Stan turned his head to see the grey fluff of his brother’s head. Ford was sleeping soundly with six fingers wrapped around Stan’s arm. Stan rolled to his side, facing his brother. With light touches so as not to wake him, he traced Ford’s features. Fingers running over each closed eyelid, trailing back to trace over the curves of his ears. Over Ford’s hairline and eyebrows. Down the bridge of his nose and over the pink parted lips.

Ford’s lips puckered as Stan traced them with his thumb. Ford mumbled, chapped lips catching on Stan’s skin. His eyes blinked open, lashes fluttering. Bright blue eyes stared blearily back at Stan as a sleepy smile spread over his lips. He gently kisses the thumb resting against his lips and nuzzles against Stan’s open palm.

“Morning.” He breathes against the callused skin. Stan grins.

“Morning, Sixer. How’d ya sleep?”

“Mhn. Good. Still tired.” Ford closed his eyes again, pulling the covers up to his neck and pushing his face further into the pillow.

“Heh. We don’t hafta get up. Nothing we gotta get done right now.” Eh, that wasn’t true. But who was paying attention out here? They could enjoy a late morning if they wanted.

Ford hummed, frowning. “Cold.”

Stan chuckled, holding the blanket up. “Well then, get yourself over here, nerd. I’ll keep ya warm.”

Ford shuffled across the space between them and wrapped his arms around Stan’s torso, burying his face in the soft grey hairs that blanketed Stan’s chest. He hummed in delight, resting his forehead on Stan’s clavicle. His body fit perfectly along Stan’s, hips chest pressed into Stan’s soft gut and hips settling against Stan’s thighs. Stan hummed at the feeling of Ford’s soft cock sliding against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He ran a hand over Ford’s bare side and back. Callused hands sliding over scarred skin to trace along the pudge of a hip, the top of a thigh. Ford squeaked when Stan gripped one ass cheek in his hand and squeezed. Dexterous fingers followed the line of it, up and down, each pass getting closer and closer to Ford’s tight puckered hole. The tip of his index finger pressed against the ring of muscle and worked to ease the tension.

“Stan.” Heavy breaths ghosted over Stan’s chest. He could feel Ford relaxing for him. The ring of muscle contracting and loosening around his fingertip. He circled the ring from the center outward. A slight press and his finger was enveloped in heat. A muffled whine echoed in the room. Stan pressed a grin into Ford’s hairline, still working his finger passed the first ring. It was dry. He wasn’t going to get far, he wasn’t trying to, but it was the best way to get Ford worked up. Light touch, teasing, just fingering the inner ring. Six fingers clutched Stan’s hips, kneading the flesh. Ford was mewling before long. His hips rocking against Stan’s thigh. He was hard, or getting there. He was panting now, hands traveling south to squeeze Stan’s ass.

“Shh. It’s alright. I gotcha.” Stan pressed a kiss to Ford’s temple. Pulling his finger free, he pushed against Ford’s shoulder to roll him onto his back. He placed a quick kiss against Ford’s lips, a soft nip along his jawline, before sucking a trail down Ford’s neck. Lips and tongue danced over pecks, pausing to give each nipple attention. Ford watched him with half-lidded eyes, gasping and wanting. Stan circled each rosy bud with his tongue, nipping at the sensitive flesh and rolling it between his gums.

“Stanley! Uh, huh, uh!”

“Heh, whatcha want, Sixer? Whatcha want yer brother ta do for ya? Just name it.” Stan purred into Ford’s abdomen. He mouthed a line down to Ford’s navel. “Hm? What is it?” He darted is tongue in and out of Ford’s navel, tracing the outer circle. “What do you need?”

“Stan, please!”

He grinned.

He leaned back, just enough to kneel on the bed and get a good look at Ford. Writhing and wanton and aching. Ford was hard and leaking. Prick straining and twitching; the head pulsing. Stan wrapped a hand around the shaft and Ford’s hips came off the mattress with a scream.

“This what you want? Need yer bro to take care of ya? Just ask me, Sixer.”

But no answer came. He looked up, expecting to see Ford red faced and shy. instead, Ford’s face was cloudy and distorted, like one of Mabel’s drawings had gotten wet and all the colors had run together. An answer came then, distant and muffled, coming through water.

“St-n”.

“Wha’, Sixer, what’s wrong?”

“Sta-, pl-se. I’m -orr-. Ple--, don- -o…”

What the hell was going on? They were just getting started. Ford was aching to go, wasn’t he? But...no. Ford wasn’t under him anymore. Least, not the one he was expecting. The sculpted body he’d been worshiping was gone. The form under him, beside him, drifting away from him, was child-like. A kid. Ford was younger now. Ford was just a kid. Scared and crying. Was it him? Was Ford crying because of him? But Ford had wanted it...didn't he?

Oh God.

What if Ford hadn't wanted it? Was he just placating Stan? Was that why Ford was going away? Was that why he was crying?

“Please. I’m so sorry...don’t…” Ford voice grew clearer, even as he drifted further and further away.

“Ford. Hey! What’s wrong? Hey! Sixer! Talk ta me!”

Stan was losing him. Ford had known about Stan's dream. Had figured out Stan had gotten off to it, even though he tried not to. Ford had cleaned his sheets, of course he knew. Genius man he was. He was going away now because he knew Stan was disgusting. Stan didn't even know why he wanted this. But it didn't matter. It was going to end now. He'd do anything to keep Ford with him. He'd never jerk-off again. He'd castrate himself. He'd do whatever Ford wanted if he'd only just stay.

"Ford! I'm sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. I don't know why it happened the first time, but I swear, never again!"

Ford's voice was getting louder and more desperate. He was pleading. But why? Stan had stopped. He was so far away now. Why was Ford still asking him to stop?

"Don't leave!"

But Stan wasn't leaving. He wasn't moving. Then...Ford wasn't trying to leave. Something was making him.

"FORD!"

“Please…don’t…NO!”

Stan was awake and out of bed before he’d even had the chance to make a conscious decision or even realize he was asleep. His heart hammering in his chest and eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. Survival skills ingrained and hard learned from his tie on the streets kicking into high gear. His blurred vision fell on the struggling lump across the small space on the second bunk.

“STAN!”

“Hey, I’m here. It’s okay. Shh. It’s alright.” Stan knelt on the floor beside Ford’s bunk, voice low and soothing, or as soothing as his smoker’s voice could be. Bed springs screeched under the thrashing, covers tossed and tangled around arms and legs. Ford was panicking. The last time Stan had tried to wake him from a nightmare, Ford had damn near broken his jaw. His jaw throbbed with phantom pain at the memory. But this was a bad one. Stan reached his hand out, soft and deliberate, to curl around one of Ford’s flailing hands.

“Sixer! Ford, common. Wake up.”

Ford shot up with a snap. A fist swung at Stan’s head even as a second gripped his fingers hard enough Stan felt his bones creak. Stan ducked, head and shoulders hitting the mattress and dodging the swing by millimeters. His knees slipped on the smooth floor, and Stan found himself clinging to the bed sheets and Ford’s hand for support.

“Ford, Jeezus! It’s me!”

“Stan?! Oh, God. I’m sorry…I…” But the end of his statement was swallowed up by a heart-wrenching sob. Instead, he rolled off the bed, pushing Stan flat in the space between their bunks, and crawled into Stan’s arms. Stan found himself laying on the floor, ass naked, with his brother curled up tight to him. Ford had buried his face into Stan’s gut, chest in line with Stan’s hips. He was shaking. Splatters of water caught in the grey hairs to pool in his navel.

Stan carded his fingers through the sweat damp fluff of Ford's hair, rubbing his thumb over Ford's temple. Hushed and incoherent words tumbled from his mouth. Attempts to sooth, but not to pry. Ford would talk when he was ready. Maybe. Sometimes they didn't talk about their nightmares. Too much emotion all at once that neither one was ready to deal with. Neither one used to being able to lean on someone when they were having problems. They would get there, but after a lifetime of bottling up their emotions, it wasn't going to happen right away.

So, Ford may or may not talk to him about it. Which was all well and good because Stan was not really up to talking himself. It happened again. He'd dreamt about Ford again. And this time, he was complicit. He'd known it was Ford. Before, he was just enjoying a steamy dream about a hot guy. His subconscious had made it Ford. But this time...he knew. And he still did it. What did that say about him? That he would actually, knowingly...

Stan clenched his eyes closed and willed the memories to go away. Ford was calming down now. Harsh and heaving breath eased, tears all but dried. Ford's heart at slowed, no longer hammering its way through his chest. But he showed no signs of moving anytime soon. Stubbled cheek scratching against the soft skin of Stan's navel. The delicate flutter of an eyelash tangled with the fine hairs.

Stan felt chapped lips part against his skin as Ford sighed. His hand stalled in Ford's hair. He became acutely aware that he was still naked. When Ford shifted to ease the pressure on his back, Little Stan became aware of Ford's position. Little Stan was very interested in continuing where things had left off, even if they were imaginary. Stan was strongly against it, but Little Stan wasn't listening. Stan desperately tried to imagine McGucket in his swimsuit. Or that creepy hand witch. Something, hell anything to make his erection wilt. He felt it twitch, filling with blood and rising to meet the pressure and warmth above it. Stan wondered if he could shift, ease out from Ford's grasp just enough to let the cool air shock his system enough to stop this problem before it got any worse. Ford buried his face in Stan's navel, a deep inhale and shuttering breath heaved out if his lungs. Stan pulse flared. This was way too close to a memory he was trying very hard to ignore.    

How was Ford not feeling this? Stan wasn't really complaining, he didn't want Ford to notice, but he was still confused as to how he hadn't yet. Stan didn't want to brag, but he wasn't exactly small. He wasn't a monster by any means, but a respectable 9 inches was still big enough. Certainly, big enough for Ford to notice that it was pressing up into his chest. He could feel Ford breathing. Every breath brushed against his straining cock. Another deep and shuttering sigh and Stan's eyes crossed, toes curling. NOPE!

"Hey, Sixer. Ya wanna move this off the floor? My back is gonna be yelling at me if we lay here much longer."

Ford said nothing. Just patted Stan's stomach and lifted himself onto his hands and knees. 'Wait. SHIT! NO! Don't do that. DON'T...' But it was too late. Ford's movements had brought him face to face with Little Stan. Little Stan was very happy with the arrangement.

It was dark. Completely dark below deck on the Stan O' War II. There was a chance Ford hadn't noticed. Please, please let him have missed it. But that little glimmer of hope died when Ford stopped dead. Stan couldn't see him, even if he didn't have his eyes closed, but he could fucking feel Ford's breath ghosting over the straining head. And he stayed there. He wouldn't move, get up. Wouldn't say anything. Stilted breaths enveloping Stan's prick in warmth, teasing with a promise that wasn't a promise and he didn’t want it anyway. He almost wished that ship would hit a rogue wave and knock them about. Ford took a breath to speak. Finally.

"I'm..." But that had been a mistake. Ford's lips had moved. He was a lot closer than either one had thought. Chapped lips just barely brushed Stan's leaking head. Stan's eyes bulged out of his sockets when he felt a sticky strand follow the movement of Ford's lips. NOPE!  

A foot connected with Ford's shoulder. Not a kick, but enough force to propel Ford up to his knees and as far away from Stan as they could get. Stan sat up and scooted back until his hands hit the curtain covering the doorway.

"SHIT! Sorry. It can't tell the difference between you and the busty babe I've been dreamin' about. Imma go piss, you sit. We'll talk if ya wanna when I get back." It was all said in one breath as Stan stood and backed out of their shared room. Stan felt his way to the bathroom and flicked on the light. He squinted through the brightness to the toilet, feeling a rush of deja vu as he flipped the seat up. His gut rolled, but it wasn't enough to come up this time. Instead, he braced one hand on the wall above the bowl while the other wrapped around his prick. He squeezed. He muffled a moan by biting the flesh of his upper arm. He didn’t bother trying to clear his mind this time. He couldn't, not with the real memory of...SHIT!

He pumped once, twice, hips following his fist. His mind blanked, body seizing. Sticky white jets splattered over his hand and the underside of the toilet seat. His jaw clamped down on the flesh of his arm to quiet his moans. He couldn't actually break skin without his teeth, but the bruising wasn't going to feel too great either. He felt his knees give out, and he sat awkwardly backwards on the toilet bowl, hunched over the small water tank. His chest heaved. Head spinning.

Stan was still in the shock and disbelief stage of grief. He hadn't had enough time to really comprehend what had just happened. He knows if he does sit with this, he may end up throwing himself off the boat. But he doesn't have to process this. He doesn't have to deal with this. He can shove it down and ignore it. Denial, denial, denial. But he and his subconscious were having a bit of a disagreement as to what was okay and NOT okay to think about. A little voice in the darkest and most depraved pit of his mind remind him that Ford hadn't pulled away. Ford hadn't reacted with disgust. Hadn't really reacted at all, as a matter of fact. Stan pile-drived that voice back to the rancid and perverse pit it crawled from.

But the thought was there now; he couldn't get rid of it. He'd been so close. Ford had been so close to...he'd...no. No. No way! It wasn't intentional. Ford was just as shocked as he was. He didn't pull away because his nerd brain had overloaded. He was just looking for comfort from whatever nightmare had spooked him and hadn't been expecting a hard dick in his face. And Stan had just left him there to deal with it on his own. What kind of brother was he? Stan chose not to answer that stupid question. Mainly because he wasn't ready to deal with the answer. It was fine! It was all fine. Stan's thoughts tumbling over themselves. It was best now to shove all that shit down and bury it under more and more layers of repression. A few tons of self-hate wouldn't hurt either. Just bury it where that shit won’t ever see the light of day again.

He didn't know how long he sat there, ass and thighs going numb balanced on the slim toilet bowl rim. He needed to get up, clean up and see how much Ford was freaking out. Shit! Ford was probably freaking out now. He had to explain. Though maybe the absolute truth in this case was a very shitty idea, but he could come up with a lie. He's good at that. Been doing it far longer than anything else in his life. But it was definitely time to go and figure out what hole Sixer was spinning himself into.

Stan stood on shaky legs, tore a wad of toilet paper from the roll and wiped himself and the toilet seat down before washing his hands. He refused to look at his reflection. Hands dried and all evidence flushed away, Stan was about ready to flick off the light when he spotted a pair of Ford's boxers left tucked behind the door. Comets and planets and little UFO's. Considering how awkward this was gonna be, he should try and cover himself up. Ford had been fine with Stan sleeping nude, but that was in his own bed. Best to make this less awkward. Though, they were Ford's boxers. From today, yesterday? Would that just make it worse? Stan didn't bother mulling it over. He picked up the worn fabric and slipped them on before flicking off the light and stumbling his way through the darkness.  

Stan felt his way along the galley counter, shuffling through his shitty night vision to the far wall. He stubbed his toe a few times on the books scattered on the floor and nearly tore down the curtain when he collided with it. He lifted the curtain and stood in the doorway, hesitant. There was no way to disguise what he'd done. He'd been in the bathroom too long. Ford might be oblivious to many social cues, but it wasn't hard to put two and two together. But he couldn't stand there forever. Time to rip the band-aid off.

"Hey." His throat felt dry.

"Hey." came the reply in the darkness. His ears, sans hearing aid, could only tell him that Ford was off to his left. Ford's bunk was on the right.

Stan cleared his throat. "You, ah...ya wanna talk about it." Stan paused, then corrected himself. "Nightmare, I mean. Seemed pretty bad this time. Could hear ya even in my own dream." Not that he was going to talk about that. Nope. Nope, not that. Never that.

"Heh, at least you enjoyed yours." Ford sighed. Stan could hear shifting on the bunk and he could picture Ford picking at the sheets. "I don't...I shouldn't bother you with this." The bed creaked as Ford shifted to stand, but Stan wasn't having it.

"Hey, no. I'm here if you wanna talk. You ain't bothering me. You never bother me."

"Oh"

"Well, mostly. Nerd talk is still a bother, but not this. Not something this important."

"Stan."

"No, 'cuz it is. You said yerself, we need to stop pretending we don't have feelings." Stan felt his way to the bed, hands patting the sheets to find where Ford was sitting. Hands found one hairy knee and Stan worked his way onto the bed. "So, I'm here ta listen. If ya wanna talk, that is." They sat wrapped in silence and darkness, shoulders rubbing together every so often. Stan blinked, attempting to let his eyes adjust to the dark, but there wasn't enough ambient light to see by. It was all just oppressive blackness. He couldn't even see his own knees.

Ford didn't talk, and so the silence permeated the darkness around them. It pressed in on his mind, and without a distraction, it dug into the layers and layers of freshly laid repression and self-hate to unearth what had just happened. His mind had been given enough time to work through the denial and really get to the meat of it. It was starting to set in what had actually happened. A spike of guilt and despair beat down on his shoulders while revulsion and horror clashed with each other in his gut. There wasn't much in his stomach but bile, but he doesn't think that will matter much. He enjoyed it. That was the worst part. That was the worst part of all of this. He'd wanted it. For a brief moment, he'd wanted Ford to lick....

STOP! Don't. Just, don't. Screw it. It happened, now let it go.

God, he needed to get laid.

A weight slumped to his side shook Stan out of his thoughts. A voice spoke in a harsh whisper right next to his ear. "You were gone. You were gone and there wasn't anything I could do to bring you back." Oh. Stan blinked as Ford continued. "You...", there was a long pause while Ford collected himself. "You left. Told me I made you sick. That you didn't know why you brought me back. Said you wanted to travel without me. That I was holding you back." Oh and damn. Now he really felt like a pile of shit. Ford had woken up panicking over Stan calling it quits and Stan had gone and waved his dick in his face. Stan swallowed down the rising bile and self-revulsion to address Ford’s statements.

“Ford. I’m not…I’m not going anywhere. I would be outta my mind ta want ta leave.” An uncommitted grunt was the only response. Stan sighed. “Stanford,” not a name Stan used often, “I spent thirty years trying ta get you back. All I’ve ever wanted was ta be out here with you. Nothing you could ever do, will make me want to be without you.” Stan leaned his head over, resting his lips atop Ford’s scalp. He could feel the tension drain from Ford’s body. They were pressed together, sharing the warmth and comfort of being close to one another. The bed was big enough, heck there were two beds, they didn’t have to. They were men. Pines men. But it felt nice. It felt really nice, and after the shit Stan was trying to pin down and bury, he was willing to indulge in a little nice. Even better when Ford started rocking from side to side.  

“Promise?”

“Always, Ford.”

“Even if I did something you hated?”

“You could never do something like that.”

“What about if I did something ‘unmanly’?”

“Well, when ya put it like that…” But there wasn’t really an end to that statement. Stan breathed a deep and rumbling chuckle over Ford’s hair, grinning at the responding laugh.  

"Stan..." Ford had placed a comforting hand on Stan's knee. Except it was dark, and that wasn't his knee, and his borrowed boxer shorts had ridden up his thighs. Six surprisingly soft fingers fluttered over the sensitive flesh of Stan's inner thigh for a brief moment before Stan linked his fingers with the offending appendage and lifted it to rest where it ought to be. Six fingers completely enclosed his as they rocked back and forth on the ocean waves.

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[prorevenge]

Insult me for my efforts? I'll ruin your holiday.

I'm on mobile, so sorry in advance for formatting/typos. I never thought that I'd post here but I've finally gotten my share of justice boner (although maybe not as pro as y'all'd like -- as it's still ongoing, suggestions are solicited)!

My dad and I have been planning to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu for about a year, to start on father's day (he'll soon be 60 so I wanted to help him cross this item off his bucket list before he gets older).

A coworker of my dad's decided that he wanted to join in on this trip with his daughter, and as it was my first trip to South America, I thought there would be some strength in numbers in case we run into trouble, and I accepted.

My dad's coworker (let's call him 58 because that's his age as well as his IQ) has never traveled much aside from Italy (through a package tour), and was completely inexperienced in traveling solo. As we began to plan this trip, his answer to everything became "I'll just do whatever you guys are doing (read in your best idiot's voice)."

Whatever, I was determined to make this trip the best one for my dad, and it wasn't a big deal for me to make the reservations for 4 people instead of 2, so despite the fact that 58 and his daughter (let's call her NP, for Nachu Picchu, obviously) were not pulling any weight on the trip planning, I was glad to do it, and happy to help 58 and NP experience the world (NP has never traveled outside of her home country as far as I know).

Unfortunately, trouble began almost immediately. 58 has packed way too much and literally could not handle all of his luggage, leaving me and my dad to carry one of his bags atop our suitcase (he never once said thank you, and my dad was already pissed on day 1). Here are some of their lesser offenses:

- if you've ever traveled Peru, you might know that most first-time travelers follow the same path (often called the Gringo trail), starting in Lima and following a few very small but touristy towns (Paracas, Huacachina, Nazca). Our plan was to stay in these towns for 4 days, where there is no ATM access. So I wrote to 58 many weeks before the trip to bring at least $500-600 usd + 400 soles in cash, to pay for hotel and transportation as well as food, and wrote clearly that he will not see an ATM for 4 days. As soon as we landed in Lima airport, 58 announced that he had precisely $305 and a very low ATM withdrawal limit (around $200 per day). I knew we were in trouble then (we ended up lending him some money to make him shut up whining about money, which he ended up doing daily)

- from that day onwards, 58 began harassing me about ATM every day despite the fact that I have told him that there won't be any ATMs (keep in mind that I'm his co-worker's daughter... Have some dignity maybe?)

- 58 also complained constantly that the Peruvians don't speak English, and that he had no trouble communicating in English on his package trip to Italy. Umm... Sorry for not having taught all the Peruvians English?

- Despite his massive luggage size, both 58 and NP didn't pack everything that they needed for the Inca Trail, and they wanted to spend an entire day shopping for trekking gears. To give you an idea of what these people are like, 58 needed a rubber end to his trekking pole, and wanted our help in finding a store that sells it. When my dad pointed out a store that had hiking sticks on display, he cried out in his whiny idiotic voice "I want the rubber end, not the hiking sticks!" *rolls eyes*

-At the Inca Trail, our hiking group was about 10 women and 5 men, and 58's comment in front of me and NP was "wow, this means all the dudes can have two girls each, eh?" Happy father's day, I guess!

At this point, since it'll become important later, I will honestly and seriously say that 58 seems to have some sort of cognitive problem. He can't usually follow conversations, and even though information was relayed to him, he had trouble either retaining it or processing it, and people usually have to repeat information several times to him before he gets it. So because I noticed this early on in the trip, I tried to be understanding for a long time.

I really tried my best to make this a great experience for them. With my limited Spanish, I was able to get some great deals and some hidden tours that aren't really known to many people yet; I have some fancy lounge access at all airports that lets me bring in unlimited number of guests, so 58 and NP were traveling in style with me, drinking free alcohol and munching on snacks on comfy sofas until boarding time; because I had a year to prepare, we all got great hotels at great prices, etc.

Nonetheless, the real trouble began about a week into our trip. My dad and I had gotten sick of the constant ATM hunting and trekking gear shopping, so we had told 58 and NP that we were going to split, see some sights, and since NP and I have roaming data plans, we'd figure out how to rendez-vous later.

I should have foreseen that 58 would not process this information at once. He somehow understood that we would come back in 15 minutes, and NP, although she understood what our plans were, didn't try to correct 58 (from what I've observed over the week, they don't have a great father-daughter chemistry, and have very little communication -- for example, when 58 was having a really rough time with altitude sickness on the Inca trail, NP was happily hiking at the front of the trip, a couple of hours ahead of her dad, and never once hiked alongside him during the 4 days). So apparently they waited for us in the freezing streets of Cusco for a long time. I'm told that 58 was already pissed at this point.

From here, things took a dramatic turn for the worse rather quickly.

We had just one key to the airbnb that we were staying in, which I had (frankly, didn't trust 58 to not lose it). But NP's phone died and she couldn't find her way back to our hotel for a long time (as they had no part in the trip planning, they had no idea which neighborhood the hotel was in; which landmarks were nearby, etc., although I had of course sent them all the info ages ago).

As a result, my dad and I were locked in our hotel for over an hour waiting for them, and NP and 58 were locked out for an hour. My dad and I eventually went out to take a walk and to hopefully run into them (maybe 20 minutes total) and during this time they came to the hotel, saw the door locked, and became even more pissed.

When they finally came back to the hotel, 58 (who is probably 6'4" to my 5'4") stormed directly in front of me, pointed a finger at my face, and screamed, I AM SO ANGRY, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, AND YOU CANNOT TREAT ME LIKE THIS, and proceed to have a temper tantrum for hours (I just locked myself in a room and my dad dealt with 58, during which 58 apparently asserted that the ATMs wouldn't give him enough money and it was my fault, the Peruvians don't speak English and it was my fault, I quoted all prices in USD and Peruvian soles and so I was not honest, NP's phone died and it was my fault, and they got lost and it was my fault). Essentially, he and NP told me that my plans were disorganized compared to 58's package Italy tour, and that I was a terrible person (for your reference, 58's Italy trip cost him $6k, his Peru trip cost him less than $2.5k). What a way to pour my year's efforts for this trip down the drain!

I had had enough, and I decided to take my revenge. With about 8 days to go in the trip, I announced to them that I would no longer travel with them, and that aside from the things that were already booked and paid for, they were on their own. 58 and NP both got very upset, understandably so, and NP made things worse by telling me that I should grow a thicker skin and that I should take this as a learning experience since surely someone else will get mad at me again, and that I cannot burn bridges so quickly like this.

Well, 58 and NP are having a learning experience of their lifetime, being thrown into a country that they have no knowledge of (since they didn't do any research or trip planning on Peru) and neither of them speak any Spanish. NP, an avid Instagrammer who was making 20+ updates while being with me and my dad, hasn't Instagrammed anything since we split. They also missed sights in Cusco such as the Salineras salt mines, Moray, the sun Temple, etc. They're also missing out big time in Lima, but since we still have about 20 hours left here, I won't list our plans here in case they see this (oh, I hope they do!)

Tomorrow our flight leaves at 2:40am from Lima, and 58 and NP will have to make a fun choice; either stay in Lima until around midnight (nights in Lima aren't exactly safe, especially for non-street-savvy travel n00bs) or wait at the uncomfortable and not-so-clean Lima airport for 6-7 hours. In the meantime, my dad and I will be chilling at a VIP lounge, have some free drinks, and try to catch a few winks before boarding. 58 and NP will definitely not be my guests.

Also, in case you're wondering, although 58 is my dad's coworker, my parents are also completely behind me on this; dad is incredibly pissed at 58 and will distance himself as far from 58 as office politics will allow, and has already told 58 that he crossed a line that should never have been crossed; 58 and his girlfriend have been wanting to get closer to my parents for ages and go camping together and whatnot, but my mom has firmly stated that she will never see 58's face ever again.

TL;DR: travel companions who completely relied on my trip planning (and couldn't even follow instructions) made the mistake of screaming at me for their own faults. So I ditched them in a random country that they know nothing about, and took away extra privileges that come with traveling with me (help with language barrier, VIP lounge access etc). If you have more ways to get revenge, let me know.

(source) (story by binbinbin3)

[dbhilluminate]

DBH: Illuminate- Hit and Run (part 1)

Characters: Connor-50 / Z, Dennis, Nick, Kate, Connor-51 / RK, Axl  Word Count: 2,598

Axl spots a trine of RK800's entering Detroit on a bus inbound from Belle Isle- Kate moves to tail them with the intention of finding out why they're there, but is spotted by Connor's doppelganger and forced to do something she regrets in order to escape.

( Chapter Art by triple_jays_art , Co-authored by grayorca15)

Previous Chapter

• Chapter Index • Characters •

--------

November 12th, 2038 - 12:54 PM

By the end of the journey, Dennis almost wished their special travel privileges had been revoked. Standing at the back of the bus might have been degrading for models of their ( dubious ) stature- compared to that, sitting wedged into an armchair-style seat wasn’t any more pleasant, but it was useless to rue any of it at this point, like insisting on taking the window seat in spite of irrelevant comfort. HIs partner squinted and placed a hand on the glass to see further out the window in anticipation of what their first glimpse of Detroit would entail. Thus far, the rolling expanses of countryside —field after field of unharvested late-season corn— had yet to give way to congested metropolitan sprawl. Nick sighed and turned back to him in disappointment. "How much longer? Why is it so far? I didn't know it would take so long."

Such questions were unsuspicious to the rest of the tour bus’ human group, but exhausting to have to answer ten times over. Instead of responding with his usual weariness, Dennis skimmed ahead to the next news article on his tablet, slouched down in his seat with his elbows bowed and his ankle crossed over one knee. He cut enough of a surly image he hadn’t been bothered by other passengers looking for small talk, though his covert attire helped throw off suspicion. In his Michigan State Wolverines hoodie, blue jeans, and ski cap crammed down over his brow, Dennis looked like just another laze about young adult catching the bus back to the city. He’d even left the laces of his boots untied to better help sell the idea. With every lazy turn the bus made they swayed one way, then the other. Dennis ran through a few possible responses before he opted for a casual nudge of his toe against his partner’s knee. This might have been a bearable arrangement, if only he would quit fidgeting every five minutes.

“You lookin’ for a distraction, or you want the same answer I’ve been givin’ you the last five hours?” Nick knocked his knee against his in rebuttal as he continued to look out the window, then turned and leaned back toward him, eyes wide under an old Detroit Tigers ball cap. "I'm just curious! It's been so long since we’ve been home… how much longer ‘till we get there?" The tablet in Dennis’ hands updated in real-time: a few mentions of road accidents that had waylaid everyday commuters at several junctions along I-75, interrupted his reading with a few annoying pop-up banners that he swiped away after reading. “An hour, provided the traffic doesn’t logjam between here and there,” he replied, then paused to take a sideways glance at his partner’s leg jittering up and down like a piston. Dennis recalled that had been their third’s plan to eat up the few hundred miles between Dayton and Detroit, but four hours in, Nick had recharged all he could will himself to. Now he was brimming with nervous energy he couldn’t work off, as always. Good plan, bad result. “What happened to sleeping your way back?” Nick reached to fuss with one of the arms of his windbreaker jacket and fidgeted in his seat. His leg stopped for a moment. "I tried that, but I'm not- tired anymore. We're going so slow… Too slow. Can't they go any faster? When will we actually be in the city?" “Soon enough,” Dennis replied, and dialed back the exasperation in his tone to spare them both the aggravation. Whether or not the delays could be helped didn’t stop Nick from whining about it anyway. There was no sense in getting annoyed.

Dennis glanced back and around at their company, most of whom were either asleep or too engrossed with their mobile electronics to notice, and made one slight tug at the ski cap. His LED dimmed beneath it, but he needn’t chance someone noticing the faint glow. As he opened the wireless communication channel between them, he reverted back to their usual banter: Don’t whine so much, you’ll draw attention to us. Their press coverage was still minimal as of yet, and most photos tended to consist of only one of their three faces. The odds they’d be outed were minimal, but it was still attention they didn’t need. And you know Zero could use the recharge. Nick twisted around and directed a too-obvious glance at their dozing primary seated a few rows back on the opposite side of the aisle. The RK800 (formerly known as “Connor”) faked a nap, head tilted back against the cushy headrest with a smart-looking cap pulled down over his eyes. Okay, okay, fine… I'll stay quiet, the anxious Android agreed as he settled back into his seat, then propped his chin up in the palm of his hand as he frowned at the floor You’re fussing more than the three-year-old in Row E. Dennis nodded to illustrate his point, directed a raised brow to the child in question, and rubbed at his eyes. I know you don’t like long rides anywhere. But you know why we’re being recalled, right? He had explained it. Whether or not Nick had been listening was another matter entirely. His partner leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms as he re-accessed the data, and remained quiet just long enough to formulate an answer. Yes… we're going back to Detroit to- uhm… help with something.

Nick never had possessed the longest attention span of their trio… Capacity for learning meant human mannerisms could easily sneak their way into all the machine-like tics that came with being an android, but they still needed to be tempered. Dennis shut his eyes before the urge to roll them got the better of him. Even if it was the perfect moment to indulge one, he refrained from exhibiting any deviant-centric behaviors, lest he give Amanda another reason to add a new tally his behavioral report. Yes. We’re going to help determine where Illuminate has been operating. Zero’s redundancy twin is a whisker away from rooting out their base of operations, and he could use some backup closing the net. The long and the short of it, as described by Amanda, wasn’t that their time around the Midwest had been a complete waste, but now that they were in the know about Zero’s “other half”, it stood to reason that they’d been sent out of the city to keep from overlapping on DCPD cases. Her patronizing reassurance did nothing to calm the faux bubbling of anxiety in Dennis’ lines, however; in fact, it had done the opposite by seeding the suspicion of irrelevance. He was simply better than Nick at concealing what he felt, as much as he wasn’t supposed to.

Nick bypassed the information that they were being sent to help uncover the largest connection that would help them prevent a deviancy uprising, and immediately went for the acknowledgment of Zero's twin. Instead of skeptical, he was genuinely earnest to embrace the notion of a lost ‘relative’. The prospect didn’t scare him at all. Oh, yes, I knew that. I can't wait to meet him! I wonder if they look different... you know, so we can tell them apart? I wouldn’t want to confuse one for the other. Dennis scoffed and twitched his crossed-over ankle to purge some of the subdued restless energy. That’s hardly our biggest concern. This isn’t a social call, it’s for the good of the mission. He may not have always liked being the anchor of their group, but someone had to be. I know, I'm just excited. The wait is making me anxious… Nick trailed off as he took a hopeless look out the window again, then realized what he should have said and turned back to Dennis. A-and to get started on the mission, of course.

With a slow, careless blink and a small sigh, Dennis cleared the news article he was no longer one-hundred percent focused on reading, just as a green mileage sign flashed by. Toledo, Monroe… then Detroit- all potential deviancy hotspots. Depending on what kind of network Illuminate had established, they could have connections everywhere. Thirteen months was a long time for roots to spread. Even if they had only been dispatched to try and round up stragglers, sending three deviant hunters after an un-quantifiable number of deviant Androids across several States was a slapdash attempt at containing the phenomenon, at best. Deviants were as varied and widespread as the humans they took after. Dennis doubted he and his partners would have been able to see so much of the Midwest any other way, though. Mission parameters raised no red flags against lingering on a rooftop a few minutes longer than necessary to watch the sunrise over a foggy Lake Eerie, or peer through a fence to appreciate the teamwork of two dozen grade-schoolers playing a round of baseball after class- or study the diligence with which a monarch butterfly moved from one milkweed plant to the next, carrying out its natural function as a pollinator against all odds, natural or otherwise. That instance in particular, Dennis remembered having to stop and remind Nick it was time to leave. The garage in the middle of that bough harbored no deviants, just a wild assortment of insects. He would have been successful, too, if the damn butterfly hadn’t thought to land on his partner’s wrist. Nick had gone completely still as soon as it landed, letting out a breathy gasp and donning a wide-eyed stare. " Look, Dennis, look- wait, don't come close, you'll scare it off! ” Which was how the presumed in-out inspection job turned into a thirty-minute ordeal of tagging along after a ziggy little monarch. Even after flitting away, its new fan put his android abilities to use, sprinting after and tracking it like a fox chasing a hare. Dennis had followed only to ensure no harm befell their third, while Zero went alone to determine the deviant’s next most likely hiding place. They returned to find Zero standing idle outside the tool shed, while a recovery team from the nearest Cyberlife depot tazed and loaded the exposed fugitive up for transport. That had been three months ago- now here they were on the cusp of winter, headed back to Detroit to take part in a far more important manhunt. Colder temperatures were already leaving flecks of frost on the Greyhound’s curvy windows. It was strangely foreboding. But there wouldn’t be any butterflies this time, or so he’d hoped.

November 12th, 2038 - 03:37 PM

The Rosa Parks terminal wasn’t the first stop their bus made within the city limits. On the off chance they had been noted by prying eyes between Dayton and Detroit, they had been instructed to disembark at random. This counted as such. They didn’t need to step off as a group, but months on the road together only served to reinforce the invisible tethers- where Zero went, Nick and Dennis would follow. If he asked them to wait, they would. If he ordered them not to speak to anyone, they wouldn’t. Anyone who wasn’t law enforcement or related to an active case weren’t to be extensively interacted with- Which was why the moment two parka-wearing children darted out of the crowd and tripped Zero up was so unexpected. Z’s nostrils flared as he barely sidestepped quickly enough to get out of their way, and a hand shot out to brace himself against the side of the idling bus. “Sorry, mister!” Amidst more carefree giggles, they wove back into the crowd, right back to their parents’ sides. After being cooped up on a bus for god only knows how long, it wasn’t any surprise a kid’s first instinct would be to run amok at the first opportunity. With his disguise intact and his cover no worse for wear, Zero returned his focus to locating the subspace storage compartments running the length of the vehicle and entered the six-digit code Cyberlife had forwarded. A panel slid back to reveal a black gym bag, right where they said it would be. All that remained now was to get to Central Station.

They could have summoned a taxi, but with the chill of winter rolling in on the heels of November (cool and breezy, tempered with city smog), it wasn’t unbearable. In contrast to the stuffy interior of a tour bus, one might even call it refreshing; besides, it would do them good to walk, to stave off freezing joints. They had an itinerary, but not an expected time of arrival. Hiking the last leg of the journey to the station didn’t go against any pre-existing orders, and it would give them time to acclimate to their urban surroundings. Zero shouldered the bag by pulling the bandoleer-style strap over his head, then grabbed the brim of his cap and gave it a firm downward tug. Underneath, his LED flickered and spun up. Would you two mind walking from here on? Nick looked around at their new surroundings and nodded absent-mindedly, not at all realizing that he looked like a star-struck tourist in a less-than star-studded city. Oblivious to this as ever, he straightened up and focused with a gleeful smile. Yeah, I’d like that! Just look how nice it is. The bus ride was so long… and the station isn't that far. ‘Nice’, Dennis scoffed over the line as he cinched up his for-show knapsack and led the way out of the boarding area under the iconic inverted-umbrella, funnel-shaped tensile canopy. They kept at least an arm’s reach from each other as they wove into the crowd, but stayed within each others’ line-of-sight. Sticking close together was the best possible formation if they wanted to avoid being sidetracked. Don’t go getting too used to it, Nick. You said the same thing about Chicago, before that breeze almost knocked you off the DuSable. I didn't know it would be so strong, Nick protested in defense, sounding half-embarrassed by the mention of the event. It was as close to an infamous public screw up as they had yet known. The smile dropped. I know now, I won't do that again. At least not when it's windy. Just stay away from the river, you should be fine. Detroit only has one.

That she did. Wide and noticeable as it was, an expanse of sky and sea was all that separated the states from Canada. But beyond that to the southeast, past the assortment of towers and the even-further faraway silhouette of Windsor, a lattice-covered spire shaped like a speartip pierced the horizon as if it were threading a needle through the clouds. Zero had glimpsed it as the bus rode the elevated interstate. Now, his brown eyes subconsciously scanned the urban skyline for it as it crossed his mind once more, as if he owed it at least one fervent glance for being the closest thing to ‘home’ most androids knew.  Even if it said place wasn’t for him, there was the illusion of disdain in looking at it. Knowing what he did about their excommunication from its shadow, he wasn’t in any hurry to lay eyes on CyberLife Tower again. Why should it feel familiar, or welcoming, when they hadn’t even had enough time to get attached to the sight of it? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but before he could let it fester, he turned and fell into step with the other two.

[ryqoshay]

How to Handle a Nico: Rhythm Game

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~2.3k Rating: G Time Frame: Late in Maki’s 1st year and Nico’s 3rd year in high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

List of all HtHaN scenes

Author’s Note: It wasn’t exactly my intent to write a scene for this adorable pic, but after I wrote the last one, I couldn’t help it. @lolitomatobunny has really made some good works. Who could blame me for being inspired by such wonderful images?

Also, double woo!  ♡ ＼(≧▽≦)／ ♡ Not only does this make my fifth chapter posted in as many days, but it’s 2k words, not just 1 or less.

“Ughn… Not again, nya!” Rin cried, tossing her phone, rather carelessly onto the table.

“Failed another song, Rin-chan?” Hanayo asked with a sympathetic tone as she moved over to her friend’s side.

“The beatmap just doesn’t make any sense!” The cat-like girl complained. “And the notes that require special gestures are just nyannoying!”

“Well, you did just start playing a few days ago.” The youngest µ’s member assured. “I didn’t figure things out right away either. And there are plenty of Expert level songs I still cannot complete, much less Full Combo.”

“But that was only Hard!” Rin whined, dropping her forehead onto the table in defeat.

“You’ll get the hang of it in time.” Hanayo patted her friend’s back. “You still like the game, right?”

“Of course.” Rin admitted with a sigh before pushing herself back up enough to prop her head on her hands. “The music is really good and makes me happy listening to it.”

That got the attention of a certain redhead sitting across the table, though she did not look away from the book in her hand.

Rin tilted her head onto one hand before reaching out with the other to retrieve her phone. As soon as the screen was unlocked, a peppy tune began to play through the speaker.

Maki blinked. If Rin had been playing earlier, why hadn’t she noticed the music before? Had the other girl been wearing headphones? Maybe said device had been disconnected when she tossed her phone away? Maybe she had just ignored it because it sounded like the music to which Nico was always listening. It was just another embarrassingly happy tune, the likes of which A-RISE might create. Or East Heart. Or Midnight cats. Or µ’s… Well, it wasn’t like Maki hadn’t helped create pieces like that herself. Quite a few, actually.

“Does that interest you, Maki-chan?”

“Buweeh?” Maki balked back to reality and looked up from her book.

Rin grinned at her friend.

“W-what?”

“You can’t fool Rin, Maki-chan!” Rin jumped up from her chair and practically skipped around the table. “I could see that you were interested even though you tried to hide it.”

“I wasn’t really…”

“It can be a little hard at times, but it really is a fun game.” Hanayo explained.

The orange-haired girl held her phone out in front of the redhead. “I’ll do an Easy song as an example.” She explained before hitting Start.

“Hmmm…” Maki watched with more interest than she was willing to admit.

Rin’s thumbs tapped certain points on the screen as moving circles crossed a threshold. In the background, various girls popped up occasionally to say something encouraging, though Maki couldn’t quite tell if the lines were supposed to be directed at the player or to the other girls in the group.

For some reason, Maki found herself paying more attention when a dark-haired girl sporting twin-tails came on to the screen. Not that she reminded Maki of anyone, of course. The character’s eyes were a different color, there was no pink to be found in her outfit, and her smile was nowhere near as brilliant. Yes, there was no way the character in the game was anything like her. Not that Maki was thinking about her, of course.

“And that’s how you play, nya!” Rin proclaimed proudly as the English words, Full Combo! appeared across the screen.

Shortly after, a girl with a reasonable resemblance to Hanayo appeared to give one final congratulatory line. Wasn’t that the girl who had been in the center of the group? Of course, Rin would set things up that way. Maki couldn’t help wondering if the twin-tailed girl ever mentioned wanting to be the center. Oh, what the heck. She shook her head. She was definitely thinking too much about this. It was just a silly mobile game.

“Bet you wanna play now, huh, Maki-chan?” Rin asked after a moment.

“Not really…”

“Hmmm, maybe if they included some classical music, then Maki-chan might be more interested.”

“I doubt it…”

“Are there classical songs that have lyrics for the girls to sing?” Hanayo wondered out loud.

“There are a lot of songs with lyrics.” Maki stated. “Though sometimes the lyrics are written at a later time by a different individual.”

“So maybe someday they’ll make a classical themed rhythm game.” Rin seemed excited about the concept.

“Probably not.” Maki shook her head as thoughts of a group comprising Bach, Mozart, Chopin, Rossini and Tchaikovsky wearing stylized outfits danced through her mind.

“Rin-chan.” Hanayo spoke up as she glanced her phone. “We should probably get going if we want to beat the rush at the ramen shop.”

“Iku-nya!” Rin cheered, running over to grab her bag.

“Do you want to come with us, Maki-chan?” The brunette asked.

“Thank you for the offer.” Maki replied. “But, I already have plans for the evening.”

“Oh? Wha’cha doin’?” Rin asked.

“Uhm, Nico-chan asked if I would help her study for an upcoming… What?” Maki stared back as her fellow first years smiled at her.

“Nico-chan’s lucky to have someone smart like Maki-chan help her, nya.” Rin explained. “And Rin is lucky to have someone as amazing as Kayo-chin to help her!” She grabbed the arm of the girl in question.

“Rin-chan…” Pink dusted Hanayo’s cheeks, though she continued to smile.

“You two have fun.” Maki nodded toward the door. “Nico-chan should be done with cleaning duty soon, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

After saying their goodbyes, the other two girls departed, leaving Maki alone in the clubroom. She was just about to go back to reading when her phone vibrated.

NicoNii: Sorry, going to be delayed a little bit

NicoNii: Eli and Nozomi need me to do something

NicoNii: I’ll try to make it quick

NishikinoMaki: That’s fine

NishikinoMaki: I’ll see you when you get here

Maki returned to the home screen and was about to turn off the screen when the icon for the app store caught her eye. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to take just one more quick peek at that game, right? Downloading it didn’t mean she was really interested, right? After all, the music was in the same genre of everything she had heard from school idols, µ’s included, so if anyone asked, she could just pass it off as research and inspiration. Yes, that was it; research and inspiration. Those were the only reasons.

Apparently, the initial download wasn’t enough, and more data started loading once Maki had opened the app. However, chibi versions of several of the girls appeared on screen, including the twin-tailed girl she had noticed before. Out of curiosity, she tapped the character and jumped when a voice came out of the speaker telling her to stop touching her. That was her voice? It was actually… kind of cute. Kind of. Not as cute as someone else’s though. Not that Maki was thinking about her, of course.

After finally getting to the game itself, an opening scene began that introduced what Maki assumed were the main characters. For some reason, she found herself relieved that the twin-tailed girl was among the main cast. The characters talked, explained the player’s role in the story and then walked her through a quick tutorial concerning gameplay. And finally, it was time to play her first song. She pressed Start and…

“Buweehh?!” Maki practically jumped out of her chair as arms draped across her shoulders from behind.

“Maki-chan plays that game?” A voice asked from next to her ear.

Pause! Pause! Where is the pause button?! Surely there is a Pause button, right?

The notes scrolled down the screen and with hands trembling, Maki began to tap at the screen.

Maybe… Maybe this isn’t so bad. Actually, even with Nico-chan scaring me, this is pretty ea… What?

The game made a dissonant sound as it did not accept Maki’s attempt to tap one of the special notes.

Maki grimaced as she heard Nico giggle, but continued to hit the normal notes with perfect timing. Nico giggled again when another special note was missed and Maki held back a growl. Finally, the song ended and the game tallied her performance; all Perfects, sans two Misses for the special notes.

“Still learning those notes, eh?” Nico asked.

“I… I only missed them because you scared me.” Maki grumbled.

“Uh-huh. Look here.” Nico held out one hand flat to mimic a phone before holding it with the other. “For those notes, you have to make this kind of gesture” She moved her thumb across her other hand as though it was a screen. “And for the other type you will see, you do this.” She moved her thumb again. “The tutorial doesn’t really do a good job of explaining them. Even Nico had to look it up online.”

“Hmmm...” Maki mimicked the gestures she had seen.

“Yeah, like that. That’s good, Maki-chan. Practice that for a few more songs on Easy.”

“Easy?”

“Yeah, I can see you got the normal notes down, but that was still on a slower speed. And the real world is full of distractions so you’ll have to learn how to do the special notes even if someone scares you.”

“Hmmm…” Maki wasn’t quite sure if she detected teasing in that tone.

“Maki-chan may be a prodigy with the piano but it will be years before she catches up to Nico-nii on rhythm games.”

Now that was definitely teasing. Maki’s brow furrowed as she tapped the screen again.

“Wha? Maki-chan that��s…”

“Mmph.” Maki grunted.

The song started again, but this time there was a significant increase in the number of notes cascading down the screen. And their speed had at least doubled. But Maki didn’t care. She knew the rhythm of this song now; it wasn’t overly complex. And as expected, the notes matched perfectly, meaning the only thing she had to watch was placement. Well, and the special notes, but Maki was confident she knew how to handle those, so long as Nico’s demonstration was accurate.

As her thumbs danced across the screen, Maki wondered if it might be easier to hold her phone in one hand and play with the fingers of her other. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her thumbs to keep up, just that she was more accustomed to using all of her fingers in tandem.

“Wow…” Nico breathed, about halfway through the song.

Almost there. The end was in sight. Maki felt her jaw clench as she concentrated on the last few… the arms around her shifted ever so slightly. A finger barely brushed her arm.

Maki’s breath hissed with a rapid intake through her teeth as the game released another discordant clash and her combo was shattered. With her concentration in shambles, her saving grace was that the remaining notes that were missed were not enough to completely deplete her stamina.

“Oh! Oops… Sorry, Maki-chan!” Nico pulled away quickly. In her haste she ended up backing straight into the bookshelf behind her. “Keh…”

“Nico-chan…” Maki griped, turning toward her senior.

“I’m sorry!” Nico repeated, throwing up her hands defensively. “Really, I am! I-I-I was just so impressed with your skills that I didn’t realize what else I was doing and… and… I don’t know! I’m sorry!”

Maki paused. She couldn’t recall seeing Nico like this; truly repentant. She wasn’t apologizing, grudgingly, because she was told she had to. She also wasn’t pulling the puppy dog eyes or falling into her idol persona. Rather, she seemed honestly upset after having disrupted Maki’s game. Was a mobile game really worth such a reaction?

And sure, Maki was annoyed, but she wouldn’t say she was actually angry with Nico. As such, she let her posture relax and opened her mouth to speak.

“That really was impressive, though.” Nico probably didn’t realize she was interrupting, as technically, Maki hadn’t actually spoken yet. “How long have you been playing?”

“I just downloaded it before you got here.”

Nico blinked. “Really? That’s impressive, Maki-chan.”

Maki felt a smile tug at her lips. “Thanks.”

“So, uhm… you aren’t… actually mad at me, are you?”

“Not really, no.” Maki admitted. “Just… don’t do that again.”

“You don’t want me to hug you anymore?” There was no mistaking the concern in Nico’s voice.

Ah, so that’s what she was worried about. Maki couldn’t help laughing a little. If she were being completely honest, she knew she would miss the hugs if Nico actually stopped.

“No, that’s not it.” Maki shook her head. “Maybe just not while I’m trying to concentrate on something?”

“I’ll try to remember that.” Nico said earnestly. “But Maki-chan is really cute when she’s focused and Nico can’t help wanting to hug her…”

Maki felt heat building in her cheeks. “W-well just t-try, alright?” Geez, why was she stuttering?

“Alright.” Nico smiled, finally. “So, uhm, we never did decide if we were going to your place or mine.”

“Either is fine, though it might be quieter at my place.”

“Sounds like we’re going to your place.”

“Alright.” Maki nodded.

“Oh, and maybe when we take a break, we can play together?”

“What do you mean?”

“There is a function that lets you set up private rooms, so you can play in a team with your friends to get higher scores and better rewards.” Nico explained. “And since you’re a new player, your teams won’t be that strong, even if Maki-chan’s skills are amazing, so Nico can lend you the strength of her teams and get you some nice early bonuses!”

“Sounds fun.”

“Then let’s get going!” Nico cheered with renewed vigor. Her smile was now as brilliant as... no, more brilliant than that of the character in the game as she held out a hand to her junior.

“Alright.” Maki agreed, grabbing her bag before taking her senior’s hand and letting her lead her out of the clubroom.

Author’s Note Continued: No, the game in the scene is not SIF. I still maintain that SIF does not exist in HtHaN. However, with as many mobile rhythm games as there are in the real word, it’s not hard to imagine some iteration of them occurring in this world. And since at least one is themed around idols, of course Nico and Hanayo play that one. However, just because the game isn’t actually SIF, or any other game from our world, doesn’t mean I can’t reference certain parts from any real world game. So, I’ll see where things go.

So, HtHaN has a rhythm game in it now. I guess I’ll probably want to bring it up again at some point. More notes for the collection!

[youtuberswithalex]

PRVL Vol. 1, Ch. 10: Take Off The Muzzle

Summary: Ever since Virgil learned about Nere’s significance in how his life turned out, he’s become more discriminatory than ever. Patton won’t let that stand.

Word Count: 4,876

Warnings: Lots of faunus discrimination, mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of the death of a sibling, fighting

Tag List: @vigilantvirgil @what-even-is-thiss @lovelylogans @nose-to-meet-you @faithfulcat111 @haikyuupaladin @virge-of-death @storytellerofuntoldlegends (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

(Author’s Note: I’m... honestly really proud of how this chapter turned out. I hope you folks enjoy!!)

Behind the Scenes Table of Contents: Desktop/Mobile

First - Previous - Next

The doors to the sparring gym opened with a bang, voices echoing into the silence.

“Patton, please, just one fight!” Roman begged. “You’re not going to get any better at controlling your semblance if you don’t practice!”

“But… what if I hurt you?” Patton replied.

“That’s unrealistic, considering both of the facts that Roman has plenty of aura and is much more experienced than you are,” Logan pointed out. “The chances of you actually injuring him are pretty small.”

Virgil scoffed. “Not that it’d be a bad thing if you did…”

“I’m ignoring you,” Roman growled. He then turned to Patton, stopping them all before they stepped onto the field and clasping his hands together. “Please, Patton. We don’t even have to use weapons! Just a little hand to hand combat?”

Chewing on his lip, Patton grasped the edge of his cloak and looked away. “I… I don’t know…”

“Come on, you’ve been getting so much better at keeping it under control outside of battle! Don’t you want to see how much you’ve improved in fighting with it?”

“I must admit, I have to agree with Roman. I am very intrigued to see how much progress you’ve made since we arrived at the beginning of the semester,” Logan added.

Patton let out a low whine, looking between his three teammates; Roman was giving him the best puppy dog eyes he could muster, Logan was staring at him quietly as he awaited an answer, and Virgil was glaring at the floor with his mind elsewhere. Patton frowned and let his shoulders drop.

“Oh… okay.”

Roman squealed and punched the air before flying onto the field, yelling, “Come on, Pat! Let’s fight!”

“Can’t wait to watch him kick your butt,” Virgil called as he headed for the bleachers.

Adjusting his glasses, Logan cleared his throat. “I believe it would be wise for me to stay down here and give suggestions on how to better use your tactics. Do I have consent to do so?”

“You certainly have mine, Doctor Smarts!”

“Sure, Lo.”

Roman looked to Virgil. “Hey, since you’re gonna be on your scroll anyway, watch our auras, will you?”

“I’m not taking orders from a faunus,” he snapped.

Patton pouted and turned to him. “Please, kiddo?” he asked.

Blinking, Virgil nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“What- why did you take his order and not mine?!”

“Gee, maybe it’s ‘cause Patton’s not an animal!”

The other three glanced at each other with furrowed brows; Logan raised an eyebrow at Virgil and crossed his arms.

“Virgil, what are you-?”

“Let’s just start the fight,” Roman interrupted. “I don’t need to hear anything else from… From Jerky McJerk Face over there.”

“Wow, that was a good one,” Virgil called.

Patton put his hands on his hips. “Now, Virgil, you’re being necessarily mean to-”

“Drop it, Patton. Let’s just fight,” Roman huffed.

“Aw, but kiddo-”

“Patton, please.”

Patton watched Roman for a long moment, the usual twist of fear in his chest being replaced by a slight nausea in his gut. Roman’s brow was creased and his jaw was set as he stared back. Chewing on his lip, Patton sighed and climbed onto the field.

“Alright. On the count of three?” Roman said.

Nodding, Patton placed his feet shoulder length apart and let his hands hover at his sides. “Ready!”

“One…”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Two…”

Logan pulled out his scroll.

“Three!”

Roman shot into the air as Patton dashed forward, leaving their leader to turn and look up as he hovered above. Light began to glow around Roman, and a moment later, four knives had formed in the air.

Thrusting his hands down, the knives shot towards Patton, who yelped and threw his hands in the air; ice encased his arms just as the knives stabbed into them. He looked at them with wide eyes before Roman shot down and kicked Patton in the chest, knocking him back a few feet and towards the edge of the boundaries.

“That isn’t fair, you can’t just go all out on him!” Virgil yelled.

Roman laughed, shutting his eyes and shrugging. “You can’t let your opponent get the first move, Patton! It gives them the advantage to-”

Yelling interrupted him, and the next thing he knew, he and Patton were rolling across the floor; Roman hooked Patton under the arms, and when he was on top, he shot them into the air. A blast of wind shoved him in a different direction than he’d planned, and in his surprise, his grip on Patton loosened. Patton used this to his advantage and squirmed until he was falling.

“Patton, that’s not a very wise tactic-!”

Logan winced as he smashed into the ground; he glanced at his scroll to watch Patton’s aura drop about a quarter of the way down the bar. He hissed a breath between his teeth and cringed.

“Are you alright?” he called.

Patton didn’t move. Roman landed and ran over, hands extended.

“Oh, my gods, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?”

With a cry, Patton whipped around and slammed his foot into Roman’s chest, knocking him back a few feet and causing his wings to flutter furiously. Patton charged and leapt at him, but Roman stepped to the side and grabbed him, whipping him around and throwing him across the field. Patton rolled, but managed to get to his feet before his momentum came to an end.

“Excellent coordination, Patton!” Logan yelled.

Roman charged at Patton, and Patton moved to do the same, but his foot landed on the edge of his cloak and caused him to tumble to the floor. Roman skidded to a stop just as he was over top of Patton, and Patton rolled onto his back, placing his hands on Roman’s calves to launch himself across the floor and knock Roman over. Finishing the move with a backwards somersault, Patton stumbled for just a moment as soon as he was back on his feet.

In the bleachers, Virgil laughed. “Nice, Pat!”

Pushing himself halfway up, Roman raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You have definitely made some progress this semester.”

Patton smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “Does this mean the fight’s over?”

“Not a chance!”

With a flick of his wrist, a sword formed in Roman’s hands, and he flew towards Patton and swung; Patton ducked backwards and grabbed Roman’s wrist. He tugged at it to pull him to the ground, but Roman flew back and ended up dragging Patton halfway across the field instead. He slashed down towards Patton’s head, and he threw his frozen arm up to block the hit. Once Roman pulled back, Patton drew back his fist and swung.

Behind him, Virgil scoffed.

“Typical for a faunus to cheat.”

Flames engulfed Patton’s hand just as it made contact with Roman’s chest, sending the dragon faunus flying out of the ring. He smashed into the wall and crumpled to the ground, sword dissolving in seconds. Patton gasped.

“Oh, my goodness!”

He and Logan sprinted over to Roman as he pushed himself to his knees, gingerly rubbing the back of his head; Patton dropped down and grabbed his hand.

“I- I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean to—!”

Laughter shoved the rest of the sentence back down Patton’s throat as Roman shook his head. “Are you kidding? Patton, that was- that was epic! Don’t apologize for that!”

Patton frowned and cocked his head to the side. “Huh?”

“Roman’s right, that was astute,” Logan said. “It seems you’re starting to get a hold on controlling your semblance, as well. This was definitely a show that you’re headed in the right direction.”

“Um…” Patton leaned back, pulling his hand away to wrap his arms around himself. “Not really… I didn’t mean for it to kick in for that last punch…”

Slouching against the wall, Roman smiled tiredly at him. “Then it’s a good thing it kicked in when it did. I probably would have defeated you if it hadn’t.”

Patton blinked. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Aren’t we still- the fight isn’t over, is it? I didn’t completely deplete your aura?”

“Well, no,” Logan replied, looking back at his scroll. “You definitely did a substantial amount of damage, but Roman could have continued to fight for a long time if you hadn’t have knocked him out of the ring.”

Patton stared at him; Logan sighed.

“Knocking someone out of the ring is an automatic win, no matter how much aura they have left,” he explained.

Perking up, Patton looked between Roman and Logan. “Wait, so… I won?”

Roman smiled and nodded; Patton started to flap his hands, but a laugh behind them cut him off.

“Of course you won, Patton,” Virgil said. “You didn’t have any animal instincts to get in the way of your focus.”

A gasp caught in Patton’s throat while Roman glowered and Logan frowned.

“Surely, that’s not true,” he pointed out. “Faunus instincts would most likely be an advantage, not the other way around.”

“What is your issue?” Roman snapped. “You’ve been at this for nearly half the semester now! I thought you were done being discriminatory!”

Virgil glared. “Just because I wasn’t saying anything doesn’t mean I forgot the truth.”

Climbing to his feet, Roman put his hands on his hips. “And what truth would that be?”

“That humans are better than faunus.”

Patton scrambled to stand between the two and held his hands up. “H-Hey, now, let’s not go saying anything we might not mean-”

“Patton, don’t lie to him,” Virgil drawled. “You just saw it yourself. You kicked Roman’s butt, I’ve kicked Roman’s butt in class, and I have absolutely no doubt that Logan could kick his butt, too! We have all the evidence we need!”

Logan hummed. “No, I don’t think that’s nearly enough data. I would say we’d need at least five instances of humans defeating faunus for a very, very small sample, meaning Roman would need to lose about-”

Roman shoved past him and stormed towards the exit.

“Wait, Roman!” Patton called.

The door slammed open and shut, leaving the other three in silence; Virgil rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“So dramatic,” he groaned.

Patton growled and glared at Virgil. “Go apologize.”

“What? Why?!”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?! You’re being really rude and hurting his feelings!”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Patton, please. He doesn’t have feelings.”

Patton’s fists combusted as he spluttered to find words, frustrated tears forming in his eyes; after a moment of gibberish, he let out an angry groan and turned to head to the exit.

“Roman, wait!”

As soon as the door shut behind him, Logan adjusted his glasses and looked to Virgil. “They’re right, you know,” he stated. “There’s no evidence that any difference lies between humans and faunus. Just because they have traits of certain animals doesn’t mean they deserve any less respect than you and I. They aren’t evil.”

Virgil let out a bitter laugh and crossed his arms. “Yeah, right! I have yet to meet a faunus that doesn’t completely ruin my life!”

“I don’t see how Roman has ruined your life,” Logan sighed. “If anything, you’re causing harm to his.”

“I’m only protecting myself,” Virgil snapped.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “From what, might I ask? I’ve yet to see any reason to be afraid of him.”

“He’s a faunus. Sooner or later, you’ll see why.”

“Then why aren’t you afraid of Patton?” Logan asked, crossing his arms. “Or me, for that matter? How do you know humans won’t provide the necessary reasoning for you to fear us?”

Virgil glared at Logan for a long moment as his arms fell to his sides. Slowly, he stepped towards him.

“Listen to me,” he huffed. “A faunus has made my uncle’s life hell for as long as I’ve been alive. It was faunus at Sanctum who tormented me about having the semblance of a villain until I was too afraid to use it at all.”

“Okay, that one sounds like it is a matter of self-esteem, not due to-”

“It’s because of a faunus that my little sister is dead, Logan!”

The words echoed through the empty gym; Logan stared at him with raised eyebrows while Virgil clenched his jaw, attempting to keep his breathing steady.

“I… was unaware,” Logan finally muttered.

“Yeah. You think I’m gonna believe Roman’s gonna be any different than them?” he asked.

Letting out a breath and looking away, Logan reached up and adjusted his glasses. “Virgil… I offer you my sympathy that these things have happened to you.”

Virgil huffed out a laugh. “Thanks.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay to be discriminatory.”

There was a pause.

“…Excuse me?”

“It isn’t Roman’s fault that those things happened. Not every faunus is going to harm you, or possess the desire to harm others,” Logan firmly pointed out.

“I’m sorry, have you heard all of the attacks from the White Fang in the news lately?” Virgil snapped.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes, and if you were paying attention to Roman, you would have heard his extreme distaste in the organization. Besides, there are plenty of faunus who are just as against the White Fang as he is. You’ve met a multitude since coming to Beacon. How many of them have been anything less than kind to you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you really going to ask that?”

“Yes. Have you considered that perhaps Roman has only been returning the attitude you have been offering him? The majority of faunus- especially here at Beacon, where we’re learning how to protect people -would never dream of harming you. What do we have to do to convince you of this?”

Virgil stared at Logan for a long moment; his eyes flicked up and down, inspecting his face, body language, and tone of voice. Logan prayed he wasn’t offering any miscommunications.

The door opened, followed by the abrupt end of a conversation.

“Whoa… Uh…”

Finally, Virgil scoffed and stepped back, glaring at Logan.

“Nothing,” he stated. “No one, not even Patton could convince me the faunus are good people. Because they aren’t. I’m only stating the truth.”

Logan sighed as he watched him turn and storm towards the exit; his heart leapt a little seeing Thamir at the door, scroll pressed hastily against his ear. Part of him wanted to run over and pull him out of the way before Virgil could cause any harm, but Virgil shoved past him before he could even begin to move.

The door slammed shut behind him. Thamir looked to Logan with wide eyes as he pulled the scroll away.

“Is he alright?” he asked.

Sighing, Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and looked to the floor. “I don’t know.”

He heard Thamir quickly finish his phone call, and then he was hurrying over to stand next to Logan. A hand landed on his back and rubbed little circles.

Should be hurting, should be hurting, why isn’t it-?!

“Come on,” Thamir softly said. “We can either talk about it or fight it out. Your choice.”

Though he knew it was inappropriate after such a tense conversation, Logan had to force a smile away from his lips.

The dorm was eerily quiet that night, and Patton was feeling less than cheerful about it.

All he had wanted to do now that his homework was done was do a little bit of reading on his scroll, but with all of the tension in the air, he realized he was putting way more energy into staying in control of himself than he was into focusing on the words. With a sigh, he pulled his attention out of his Achieve Men fanfiction and stretched, taking the opportunity to look around the room.

Next to him on the bed, Virgil concentrated heavily on his own scroll. Some sort of news article appeared to be on the screen. His free arm wrapped loosely around his torso, and his hand rested on Patton’s detached cloak, where it was draped over both of their legs. For a moment, he dropped the back of his head against the wall, eyes narrowed in deep thought, but he turned back to his scroll before he could notice Patton’s gaze.

A huff from Roman on the other side of the room drew his attention. The faunus leaned back at his desk, scrubbing at his eyes before he reluctantly turned back to the textbook laying in front of him. His fingers weaved through his hair as he attempted to focus. Patton knew that Roman’s exhaustion was keeping him from finishing the assignment, but his pride would keep him from taking a break.

Logan reached into the box of stim toys sitting at his desk and pulled out his fidget cube, glancing up to eye at the weighted blanket on the top shelf before turning back to his work. The sound of the switch flicking back and forth broke the silence a moment later, but no one in the room minded. He started to scribble something in his notebook. For a brief second, he let out a sigh and turned to look at the poster of Team BYRD; Patton noticed a look in his eye that seemed quite out of character for him, but he couldn’t decipher what it meant. Logan turned back to his work before he could study it any longer.

A gust of wind rattled the shut window. Patton shifted under the cloak and tucked his legs underneath him. It was quiet, but at least they weren’t fighting.

“Oh, look, another Dust shop was robbed,” Virgil said. “How much do you want to bet it was the White Fang?”

I spoke too soon, Patton thought.

Shutting his eyes, Roman let out a long sigh. “Honestly, those scoundrels are probably just doing it for fun at this point,” he grumbled.

“Is there a reason you would assume the White Fang over any other run-of-the-mill thieves?” Logan asked, keeping his eyes on his work.

“They’ve been behind the majority of the other Dust shop robberies lately, haven’t they?” Roman responded. “Besides, they’re the lowest of the low. Can’t be bothered to spend a single Lien when they could just steal it.”

Virgil huffed out a laugh. “Plus, they’re faunus. What more would you expect?”

“Virgil…,” Patton sighed.

“Not every faunus is as low as they are,” Roman snapped.

Rolling his eyes, he looked back to his scroll. “You certainly seem to be.”

A loud bang echoed through the room as Roman slammed his hands on his desk and stomped to his feet. He whirled around and sent a glare that pierced Patton into coating his scroll with ice. Virgil simply raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you ever,” Roman growled, “ever compare me to those- those- those vile creatures ever again.”

“Oh, gee, looks like I hit a nerve. Should I grab the muzzle?” Virgil sneered.

Patton bit his lip. “Wh… What makes the White Fang so bad?” he softly asked. “I’ve never heard about what they do before I came here…”

“How?!”

“Patton, they’ve literally been attacking… Well, every kingdom for years,” Logan pointed out.

He held up his hands. “I don’t know! My parents didn’t tell me anything about the world; I wasn’t even allowed to watch the news by myself! Sure, I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know what they’ve done to be… well, scoundrels.”

“They’re terrorists,” Roman growled, fists balling as he glared at the floor. “What started as a faunus civil rights group peacefully protesting turned into awful people using hate and fear to get what they wanted. They claim to be doing it so people like us will be treated like people like them, but they do nothing but ruin the name of faunus.”

Virgil scoffed. “You didn’t need their help.”

Roman shut his eyes and lifted his fists a bit before shooting daggers into him. “What the hell is your problem?!” he yelled. “We were getting along fine until your uncle showed up a few weeks ago! Is he as discriminatory as you are?!”

Virgil glared and threw the cloak aside, accidentally covering Patton’s head with it. “Don’t you talk about Chao like that.”

“Oh, not so great when I’m throwing the attack back at you, now, is it?!”

Patton yanked the fabric off of his face to see Virgil and Roman practically nose to nose in the middle of the room; he glanced to Logan, who had turned in his chair to watch, and they made slightly frightened eye contact. Chewing on his lip, Patton began to reattach his cloak.

“There is just no winning with you, is there?” Roman huffed. “If I’m kind to you, you’re waiting for an attack. If I’m rude, I’m proving you right. What is there for me to do to prove to you that I’m not evil?!”

Virgil barked out a laugh. “You think you can? I know how you faunus are. You can’t delude me into thinking you’re kind at heart.”

“I’m not trying to delude you, I’m trying to show you you’re wrong!”

“Oh, right, because calling me awful nicknames like Sunshine and Emo Nightmare are doing wonders at making me think you’re a great person. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’ve never met a kind faunus, and that doesn’t exclude my time at Beacon,” Virgil shot back.

“Why, then, am I the only faunus you openly discriminate against?!” Roman yelled.

“Because you’re the only scaley freak on this team!”

Roman pulled back his arm and slammed his fist into Virgil’s nose; he let out a yelp and stumbled back a few steps. Patton and Logan jumped to their feet, but neither of them moved any closer. Fist shaking, Roman took a few heavy breaths. Virgil glared and raised his own trembling hand towards him.

Silence fell.

After a moment, Virgil curled his fingers back and squeezed his eyes shut, letting out what sounded like a strangled sob and storming out of the room. As soon as the door slammed behind him, Roman dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered.

Logan moved to his side, hovering next to him as he chewed on his lip. Emotions were far out of his strong suit, and he knew that. He turned to look at Patton, but their leader’s spot was empty. The door to the hall opened and shut.

A smoldering hand print remained on the door frame.

As soon as the evening chill hit his skin, Virgil scrubbed furiously at his face. His heart was thundering and his hands were trembling; the King Taijitu in his chest squeezed as hard as it had back in the Emerald Forest. He strode down the sidewalk as quickly and unsuspiciously as he could muster. He’d almost used his semblance, he’d almost proved himself the villain, he needed to get out, find a place to hide, go, go, gogogo-

“Virgil!”

He walked faster.

Behind him, he heard someone running. He didn’t dare look back.

“Virgil, we need to talk about that-”

“No.”

“None of that was okay-”

“I said, no.”

“Virgil Millard Vengier, you go back and apologize right now!”

Virgil whirled around and jabbed a trembling finger at him. “Patton, shut up. I am not going back in there.”

Illuminated by the glow of his hands, Patton glared; Virgil’s chest squeezed just a bit more. “I’m not asking you to do this,” he stated. “All of what you said was inappropriate and rude and just… just awful!” He threw his hands into the air. “Family doesn’t treat each other like that, Virgil! Whether you like him or not, that doesn’t mean you can say such awful, discriminatory stuff! What in the world makes you think that’s okay?!”

“You don’t understand,” Virgil growled. “You don’t understand anything!”

“Try me,” he snapped.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Virgil shook his head and turned to walk off. “No… No! I’m not- I- You don’t get it, Patton! You don’t know the faunus like I do!”

Letting out a groan, Patton hurried over to walk next to him. “Virgil, one faunus being the reason for an accident doesn’t make the whole species evil! You can’t judge an entire group of people based on one person!”

“Nere isn’t the only faunus I’ve met,” Virgil retorted. “The faunus I knew at Sanctum-”

“Bullied you? Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry that happened, but you know what? My parents treated me just as terribly, and they’re humans! You don’t see me treating you or Logan like you’ve been treating Roman!”

Virgil slowed to a stop, glaring at Patton as best as he could through the wind of the loading docks whipping his bangs in front of his eyes. His jaw clenched so tight he was worried his teeth were going to break; he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms.

“What do you care?!” he yelled. “Why is it that you only ever stand up for Roman when it comes to these kind of things?! You didn’t even say anything about the fact that he freaking punched me! I thought all those years with your parents made you hate confrontation like this! Why is this such a big freaking deal?!”

“Because I’m a faunus!”

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

Patton’s shoulders shook with every breath he took. There was panic in his eyes, but the flames showed no sign of stopping. Slowly, he gulped down a deep breath and put his hands over his eyes.

“I’m a faunus,” he softly repeated. “That’s why my parents treat me like they do. They are the most discriminatory, awful people you could ever meet… and… And you’re acting just like them!”

He threw his hands down, tears dripping down his cheeks.

“You think I’m not going to care when someone’s talking to a faunus like my parents talk to me?! You think I’m not going to care when someone’s talking to anyone like that for something they can’t control?!” he screamed. “Roman and I didn’t choose to be faunus, Virgil! Heck, I wish I had gotten that choice! But I didn’t! And neither did Roman, whether he would’ve wanted it or not! We can’t change who we are! Why do you insist on hating people like us for it?!”

A teardrop fell towards the other wet spots on the sidewalk, but it began to hover before it could join them; as Patton caught his breath, the fire began to die down. His face screwed as he tipped it towards the ground.

“I don’t want to be afraid of you,” he hiccuped.

Patton wrapped his arms around himself, the movement causing Virgil to finally snap out of his trance. His eyes darted up and down, scanning his sobbing teammate’s entire body.

“…Where?”

He sniffled. “Huh?”

“Where’s your… trait thing?” Virgil asked. “Why haven’t I ever seen it?”

Shuddering, Patton straightened himself and pulled off his glasses to wipe at his eyes. “It’s hidden,” he choked out. “My parents don’t want anyone to know I’m not human. I- I shouldn’t even be telling you this, they’d be furious if they ever found out—”

“Wait, your— your parents,” Virgil interrupted, waving his hands in front of himself. “They’re human. Are— were you adopted, too?”

“No. They would never have chosen a faunus,” Patton bitterly replied. He put his glasses back on. “I don’t know how they had me. Everyone in my family is human, and just as discriminatory as my parents. There’s gotta be a gene or something— I don’t really know, maybe we can ask Logan. Honestly, my parents won’t even tell me how babies are made because of this. I don’t know how I happened.”

Slowly, Virgil nodded. He reached behind his head and rubbed at his neck, tucking his fingers under his collar. The shock of the new information was starting to wear off, and Virgil found himself back in the awful feeling of the world spinning out of control. This was wrong, this was wrong, wrong, wrong— faunus were bad, but Patton’s too pure, too trustworthy to be one, but he is one, and if there’s one exception, who’s to say there can’t be more? Who’s to say anything he’s ever thought is true? How does he know the world he knows isn’t just one, big, blundering lie?

If Chao could lie to him, how many other people had, too?

He swallowed thickly, shaking his head to stop the train of thought before it got too out of control. “What… What kind of a faunus are you?”

Patton bit down on his lip, eyes darting away as his swaying came to a stop. He was silent for a long moment.

“I… Uh…”

A familiar scream cut him off.

The two flinched and snapped their heads towards the dorm buildings; Virgil furrowed his brow.

“That sounded like…”

The scream rang out again, and Virgil’s eyes darted to their own window. When he saw the curtains flapping outside, he gasped. Two figures struggled against each other on top of their bookshelf, one of which was attempting and failing to unfurl his scaley, black wings.

Patton and Virgil turned to each other with wide eyes.

“Roman!”

[absolutecreed]

It was almost...odd seeing him like this.

Kylo Ren, the Master of the Knights of Ren...struck down with a sickness.

Hux didn’t even know it was possible for Ren to get sick, with him having the Force and whatnot. But despite him having the kriffing Force, he was only human--and humans got sick.

He’d done the stupid thing (though Hux knew he was the pot calling the kettle black, as he’d done the same thing as well), and tried to work through his sickness, until it finally took him down. He had stalked onto the bridge, and he and Ren had their usual arguements. But when Ren spun on his heel to turn away, he wobbled. He managed to make two unsteady steps towards the door, before collapsing in a black heap.

Motionless.

Once the stunned shock faded, someone finally called medical, and Kylo Ren was whisked away to the medbay. Hux found himself following. Why not? While Ren was a man-child who threw tantrums at every opportunity, he was still his co-commander. He needed to see if he had to issue a quarantine or if this was just an illness bound to the Knight of Ren.

Turns out, while what he had was mildly contagious, it wasn’t enough to keep him in the medbay. Though Hux suspected they didn’t want Ren waking up in the medbay and wrecking it, for the umpteenth time. Even the medical droids were being skittish around the unconscious Ren, giving him a few injections, and hooking him up to a mobile IV, which was giving him fluids and vitamins.

With that done, Hux followed them as they transported Ren to his quarters...only to find them a mess. In some delirious fit (or maybe just a normal tantrum, Hux didn’t know), he’d taken his lightsaber and slashed not only his walls, but his bed. Only scorched remains were left; he’d completely trashed it. He didn’t even have a sofa in the sparsely decorated room.

Hux decided then to have Ren transferred to his quarters. He’d keep an eye on him there, and work as well. He’d be able to tell the medbay if anything changed with him easy enough.

And that’s where he found himself now.

Hux had pulled up a chair by Ren’s bedside, and worked from his data pad. The man barely moved, other than his slightly uneven breathing. Hux found himself pulling off his glove and laying it gently against Ren’s forehead. He nearly jerked it back, feeling how warm his skin was. The Knight of Ren was normally warm (he was practically a walking heater, for kriff’s sake), but this...was unnatural, even for him.

Setting his data pad aside, Hux went into his ‘fresher and soaked a washcloth with cool water. He recalled Rae Sloane doing the same thing for him, when he got sick under her care. The memory brought a rare smile to his face, as he wrung out the cloth, coming back into his room. Ren had shifted slightly, but not by much. He was still sweating, even though his robes had been removed, and he was in a pair of loose pants and a sleeveless shirt. How the medbay found those clothes, that fit someone his size perfectly, was beyond him.

Just as he set the cool washcloth on Ren’s forehead, his eyes snapped open with a gasp, and a hand lashed out, grabbing Hux’s wrist in an almost crushing grip. He shouldn’t have this much strength, for one so riddled with fever. Still, Hux couldn’t help but let out a soft hiss of pain, feeling his poor wrist being crushed by Ren’s grip.

“Relax.” he ground out, looking over at Ren who was staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes. For a split moment of fear, he thought he was going to get tossed against the opposite wall, being thought of as an enemy. Instead, Ren’s gaze softened a little, his eyes still unfocused. Yet his grip around Hux’s wrist didn’t slacken, “You passed out, you kriffing idiot. You’re sick. High fever. You’re in my quarters, because you trashed yours. Great job, by the way.”

“Yours...” Ren croaked out, slowly relaxing. Though, judging by the way his eyes were fluttering, he was losing his fight with sleep, “Sick....oh...right...I was...”

Finally his hand fell away from Hux’s wrist, who couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief, as he adjusted the cool washcloth on his forehead, “Rest. You need it. I’m here, if you need anything.”

As he pulled back, he saw that Ren’s eyes were closed once again, his features passive. And that made Hux pause a bit. He’d been so used to seeing Ren with that damned mask, that it was very strange to see him without it. His features were too boyish for a brute like him. Full lips, prominent nose, wavy soft hair, and warn brown eyes that practically bared his soul....

Hux realized he was staring, and blushed darkly, quickly sitting back down in the chair next to the bed. He knew he shouldn’t stay so close to him, not with him being sick and all. He knew he was going to catch whatever Ren had, he just knew it. But...in the meantime...at least he knew where he was. He knew Hux was here. He didn’t want to know how Ren would react, if he found himself alone...

He jumped, as Ren made a soft noise. Thinking he woke up, he glanced over at him, only to see his passive features twisted into something uncomfortable, as he shifted about the bed. Large hands grasped at the covers, his noises turning more into whimpers and whines. Hux knew too well what this was--a nightmare. A fever-induced nightmare. ...Which were some of the worst...

Unsure of what to do, he set his data pad aside before hesitantly reaching out and running his fingers through Ren’s hair. He recalled Sloane doing the same for him, when he had those delirious nightmares. A simple action, but it worked wonders on him. And her soothing voice seemed to cut through the nightmare, like a heated knife through butter. He wasn’t sure if his voice was soothing to Ren, but it was worth a shot...

“Relax...it’s just a dream...” he said softly, letting his fingers stroke along Ren’s hair slowly, rhythmically, “You’re safe...It’s okay...i’m here...Nothing can get you...It’s alright...”

He continued speaking soothingly to Ren, until he finally calmed down. Hux could hardly believe it. He couldn’t believe that had worked on this overgrown manchild. And yet, here he was, no longer tossing and turning in delirious discomfort.

But just as he pulled his hand away, Ren started to whine softly. Hux put his fingers back in Ren’s hair for a few moments, before pulling away again. Another whimper, that was only silenced when Hux’s hand returned to his head. He sighed...but he couldn’t help but smile softly at him, as he gathered his data pad back up. He could work with one hand, easy enough.

“...Rest well, Ren...” he said softly, stroking his hair, as he worked on reports on his data pad.

He missed the soft, content smile on Ren’s face.

[kestrelsansjesses]

No power, snowed in for Shakarian

[[Sorry this took forever. :D I hope you like though!]] 

Vacations had never been a feature in Shepard’s life. Before the Reapers there had never been time, and afterward there had been so much recovery. It seemed unbelievable that she was out of the hospital now, that she even had limited mobility, with Garrus by her side. That her friends had been there was another bonus, opening up their arms and homes for when she was ready. She wasn’t though, not yet, but she was ready for a break.

“Somewhere warm and tropical. That’s all I ask.” It was not without a sense of mischief that Shepard clicked ‘buy’ on shuttle tickets to Iceland, though her reasons ran far deeper than just giving Garrus grief.  There was something about the phrase ‘swimsuit weather’ that made her cringe. The world wasn’t prepared for the scars that marred her otherwise pale skin, still so ugly and raw. Truth be told, she wasn’t ready for anyone to see them either, except for Garrus, and even that was with reluctance.

Because nothing could ever be simple for Shepard, there was yet another undercurrent to it. There would be no Mordin gathering shells on their vacation. She could cross every shore, sail every sea, and Thane would not be somewhere just beyond the horizon. No, she wasn’t ready for the beach just yet.

Thus they found themselves on a swift shuttle to a remote spot bound in by snow, daylight just cresting the horizon as they arrived. “Don’t get used to it,” their pilot warned. “Big storm expected tonight, but you may still see the aurora. Say, aren’t you Commander-” With that, Shepard shut the door firmly, Garrus wheeling her out across the icy stone path down to their cabin.

While Shepard stoked a fire, relieved to get out of her chair and stretch her legs in an environment where no one would see her fall, Garrus prepared the food. It was all premade, of course- she trusted his cooking skills only a small amount over her own, which was to say not at all. Luckily, he could just about manage putting something in to be re-heated, though she heard him cursing as his talons hit the wrong buttons again and again, all of them too small for turian hands.

Over the sound of Garrus’ increasingly creative curses, Shepard shouted out, “Garrus, it’s starting to snow. Come look!” There was already a light dusting on the ground, but now the sky was grey and heavy, the limited sunlight swiftly vanishing. There was something magical about the way the flakes fell down, the world becoming that much more silent, the tracks of her wheelchair and Garrus’ footprints vanishing swiftly as the snow began to fall in earnest.

“Brr,” was Garrus’ response as he moved to turn up the heat by a few degrees, taking it from comfortably cool to warm, even toasty.

“Turians have no stamina,” she scoffed in response, lighting a match carefully and watching the fire go up with a certain pride. She had made it by herself, with no help. Making things… That was something she could do with her ‘retirement.’ Yeah. Right.

When her back was turned, Garrus swooped behind Shepard, pulling her neatly over her shoulder and carrying her to the couch. “I’m cold,” was the only explanation he offered, putting her down with considerable delicacy and settling in next to her. The power chose then to flicker, setting Garrus to pulling the heaviest down comforter he could find. “You know Shepard, this reminds me of that time on Noveria…”

****

There were loose ends. There were always loose ends. Noveria wanted Shepard to collect some of the geth corpses for examination. It was simply work, almost insultingly so, but they had a valid point- if any data could be gathered, it could help prevent future attacks. It wasn’t as if there was any further danger. One crew member was really all she needed to bring with her.

“Vakarian, get in the Mako.”

“Why me? It’s a little bit nippy.”

“Because you whine the most.” The smile that spread across her face was positively wicked.

Bundled into the Mako, they headed out into a frozen world, one still littered with robotic bits and pieces. The workers would return eventually, but the roads were still blown out and blocked,  making navigation treacherous for all but the most hardy vehicles. Coupled with conditions that were labelled ‘bad’ (scarcely worth thinking about on this planet), Shepard was nervous setting out, and Garrus was silent, checking his weapons again and again, shivering dramatically now and then to prove a point.

A sudden gust of wind buffeted the vehicle, sending it rocking for a second, systems faltering and flashing red. “It’s okay. We’re rated to withstand harsher conditions-” and with that, the Mako died completely, everything going out, the only noise the howl of wind and ice hitting the windscreen. “I’ll radio in for assistance.”

“Does it feel colder already, or is that just me?” A blue scarf lay prominently on Garrus’ carapace, and he pulled it tighter around himself.

“Shut for a minute and let me try and get the radio working.” She was good with tech; if Shepard could operate a drone, she could get a radio to work, right?

Wrong.

There were contingencies, of course, but in their case it was sending up a few flares and waiting for rescue. An hour or two tops. Maybe three. Not enough to die. Probably.

But the cold descended rapidly, filling first Garrus’ bones and then her own. They shivered, sitting discretely apart and not talking, Garrus making it plenty clear what he thought about the whole situation. Shepard couldn’t entirely disagree with his assessment. The degrees of bullshit were too damn high.

After fifteen minutes of pathetic solo shivering, she spoke up. “Look, we can share body heat. That’s it.” He shot her a look, but scooched closer so that they were almost, but not quite touching. It seemed like Shepard’s cheeks grew heated immediately, but she tried to think of anything but his proximity or the way they had been covertly looking at each other over the past few weeks.

“No one on the Normandy has to hear about this,” Garrus reasoned, and suddenly they were touching, even if it was through layers of armor. Oh yes, they were definitely feeling quite a bit warmer.

Another few minutes of silence. “So…” Shepard ventured, “You come here often?” Garrus’ laugh was a burst of welcome noise, breaking down some barrier that existed between them. When he slung his arm around her shoulders, she was able to convince herself that it was purely for warmth.

Still the cold crept in, and it wasn’t long before both their eyes grew heavy. “We’re not going to freeze to death waiting for help.” Whether Shepard was trying to reassure Garrus or herself was very much up in the air. “A nap won’t hurt.”

“I’ll stand watch. I’ve got your back, Shepard.” More warmth spread through her, and slowly her head leaned down to rest against his armor. It was as cold as anything else within the Mako, but she could still feel him radiating heat outward. As she drifted off, it seemed only natural that their bare fingers would entwine- what was one more source of contact if not another source of heat?

They didn’t have to tell a soul.

[loreleywrites]

Christopher the Weird

“And that is how you sculpt the perfect armpit.”

Lyrula disengaged her sonic sander, climbed down her telescoping ladder, lifted her mizzium face shield, and admired her work. Every angle was precisely calculated. Every fractal face carefully carved. It was a frozen masterpiece in its own right, but the vedalken knew that it was really more of a blueprint. Weirds required flawless work.

Frostburn Weird by Mike Bierek

“I think we are right to supersaturate with molecular mizzium. It’s going to function as a much better binding agent. Our failures in previous experiments ruled out any other major flaws in design. I know you’re not really the cryophysics specialist, Pazat, but do you think we should have added even more binders?”

The room was silent.

“No, of course not. Silly me. The internal latticework will support a matrix of pyromantic energy, and the final fusion process will give us our first successfully manufactured weird! Aren’t you excited? Pazat?”

Lyrula threw her mask onto a workbench and glanced around the room. Her colleague was nowhere to be found. She had been lecturing to nobody for almost an hour. Shaking her head, she walked over to a toggle-filled board and started flipping switches.

Circuits crackled to life. A vent coughed up steam. Gears whirred with impatience. But what startled Lyrula was the cacophonous clanking as beakers shattered against the floor and metal drums rolled across the room.

Mid-tiptoe was a goblin with a fistful of copper cables and ill-fitting headgear. Pazat. Massive psychosonic amplifiers made her look like a rhinoceros, while bubbling flasks were goofily reminiscent of a Simic salamander. Despite the ridiculousness of it, Lyrula was not amused.

Goblin Flectomancer by Matt Cavotta

“Where’d you get the helmet?”

“Oh, you know. Around.”

“Who did you steal it from?”

“Nobody.”

“What room did you steal it from?”

“An office.”

“Whose office?”

“Mizzix’s.”

“Put it back or we’re going to be dragon chow.”

“You’re just mad because you’re bald.”

Pazat shoved cables into one side of the hat, eliciting a shower of sparks. A conductor box rumbled with a surge of power, drawing beads of sweat from Lyrula’s brow.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the vedalken panicked, rushing to another control panel covered in flashing gemstones.

The goblin stuck cabling into the other side of her helmet, “We kept failing, so I procured an instrument that will help make my spell more powerful.”

“Everything about this has to be precise. We can’t go tweaking too many variables in each new iteration!” Lyrula had to shout over a KA-CHUNK that signaled the fusing mechanism landing in place in front of her icy statue, “Shut it down!”

“Too late, I’m already reworking the equation in my head! This hat is fantastic!”

Mechanical arms descended around the frozen figure. Irises opened on the end of steaming tubes, firing pyromantic energy onto the sculpture. Each arm worked in unison, inscribing magical dynamism onto the mizzium matrix embedded in the ice.

Lyrula’s face contorted in a way the Rakdos would appreciate, “Well I just reworked an equation in my head and it says that you’re an idiot!”

The insult was drowned by the goblin’s cackling.

As the pyretic machines continued their work, the laboratory filled with steam. Lyrula turned dials and flipped switches to try and stabilize the reaction, but the sheer magical willpower granted to Pazat subverted her efforts.

A fuse blew. CRACK

Three more. CRACK CRACK CRACK

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Lyrula hopped from one station to another, reading instruments, tweaking what she could, and swearing to herself.

A flash of ruby light and Pazat’s cackling ceased. Her spell was complete. The helmet clunked to the floor as the goblin dashed to the center of the room to gaze upon the final creation. She tripped three times as the heavy fog slowly dissipated. She latched onto Lyrula’s leg, her head only coming up to the slender woman’s waist.

Overheated machinery lay smoking on the floor. Pazat could hear the sniffles of tears beading on her lab partner’s face. It was easy to understand why. Twelve experiments later and the only thing they had to show for it was an orange puddle.

And then the puddle rippled. Like a primordial worm, a finger crawled across the surface. Four more followed.

“Look!” the goblin hopped, fully wrapped around Lyrula’s torso, her nose poking into her blue ear.

A hand reached out of the puddle. The fingers undulated with an inner flame, and then they stretched with glittering frost. A second limb ascended followed by the flickering fire of a perfectly sculpted cranium. Icy blue eyes opened for the first time.

They had actually—finally—succeeded.

Turn by Ryan Barger

Lyrula knelt down, bringing her and Pazat’s faces next to the weird’s dripping visage.

“Welcome to existence, Christopher!” Pazat cheered.

“Christo-what?” the vedalken said, “It’s clearly a frostburn amalgamation.”

“I already named him Christopher.”

Lyrula sighed, “You can’t just jam random phonemes together and call it a name.”

“Well when your genius leads to the creation of our next weird, you can name it something boring like Ironcloud Experiment Seven Point Four Dash Nine Nine Three.”

The vedalken shoved the goblin off of her. The goblin shoved back with less success. Lyrula threw an oily rag that landed in Pazat’s frenetic white hair. She snapped, and the shoulder of Lyrula’s jumpsuit lit like a candle.

Neither scientist noticed that Christopher the weird was now seven feet tall and quickly crystalizing into the icy form originally sculpted for him.

Lyrula and Pazat were now fully embroiled in petty spellslinging, blue and red sparks cascading like fireworks in the already-smoky lab.

“Reckless cur!”

“Square-brained blockhead!”

“GROAAHHAAHA!!!” vocalized Christopher, his arms flailing with fiery rage.

Magmatic eruptions slammed into the laboratory walls before rapidly cooling with the weird’s shifting temperatures. Metal creaked and whined under the stress. Christopher’s fists froze and punched. The wall shattered, bathing the lab with the sun’s radiance. The icy top half of the weird jumped into the busy street and a sloshing sounded as his molten legs followed.

Lyrula was holding Pazat five feet off the ground by a fistful of hair, but both women’s jaws dropped at the destruction.

“Well crap,” the goblin uttered before being dropped in newfound panic.

Her friend flew into a frenzy, “I’m dead. Niv-Mizzet is going to swoop down here and eat me for sure. I couldn’t even make one simple weird. Years of study, months of work, all down to the undercity. And for what? So my skull can pick meat out from the Firemind’s teeth.”

“We did make a weird though,” Pazat patted her friend on the knee. “A strong frostburn weird that hasn’t collapsed under its own volatility. Every single one of your calculations was perfect.”

A street vendor’s cart exploded outside.

“You call that ‘perfect?’” the vedalken gestured.

“They’re still Izzet calculations. I may have overloaded them a bit with Mizzix’s helmet,” she smiled, “But look at the trail of magmatic residue Christopher is leaving behind. It’s a perfectly straight line. The locomotive algorithms you invented are the best I’ve ever seen. Even the Izmagnus would be impressed.”

Lyrula became very still, her fingertips flicking as thoughts blasted through her brain like lightning. “We’re on the south side of the building, correct? So, the weird…”

“Christopher.”

“Christopher is walking directly down Rummage Street. That means he’s heading right for…”

“…The krovod colon,” Pazat gasped before reading Lyrula’s confusion, “Which, of course, is what goblins call Dodek Junction. It’s said that if a krovod eats your boot, you won’t see the shoe again for six months.”

“That’s a gross nickname.”

“It’s a gross intersection. Takes a whole day to get through it. Who would even build a twelve-street junction anyway?”

The vedalken chuckled, “They say the person who did was committed. Won’t even let the Orzhov touch his soul. And we’re next if we don’t stop Christopher from charging in there and laying waste to thousands of citizens.”

Pazat pounded her fist into her palm, “Let’s do it. Somehow.”

“No worries, friend, I’ve already formulated a plan. I’ll explain on the way, but first you’ll need to go to the warehouse and get the mobile kiln cannon.”

The goblin scoffed, “That thing barely has enough power to fire a vase!”

“Not that one. The big one.”

“The mobile turbo kiln cannon?”

“The big one.”

Pazat’s eyes doubled in size and glittered like a clear night in Utvara, “The mobile turbo kiln cannon deluxe?”

Lyrula nodded.

Render Silent by Matt Stewart

“By command by proxy of the Azorius Senate, I order you to halt.”

The traffic officer raised his hand and a glowing manifestation of the Azorius sigil unfolded from his open palm. His knees tensed and boots shifted in the dust of Dodek Junction. The job could get weird, but this was a new one for the cop.

Christopher’s gait was slow, but he marched in an indefatigable rhythm. An oozing foot would raise, temporarily freeze, and come splashing forward. Bubbling magma sputtered off the weird’s shoulders, swiftly cooling in the city air and precipitating as snow.

“I said halt!” the cop commanded.

Fire and ice did not relent.

“HALT!” The magic of the Azorius sigil sprang to life. The shape grew as tall as the man, its edges as crisp as a newly-forged shield. Light billowed forth, refracting through the weird’s crystalline forms in a vision of beauty that the fleeing pedestrians had neither the awareness nor the patience for.

For the first time since his escape, Christopher’s feet were still. His molten skull shifted to its icy form; weirds don’t see with ocular organs, but they have generally cephalized methods of detecting sensory data. The cop stood firm as the weird studied this new obstacle. A fiery limb reached out towards the floating sigil. It poked and prodded, but the seemingly empty space between runes was solid to the touch. Instead, the hand shifted phase and placed a frigid palm at the center of the sigil. The glaciation spread, soon covering the entire shape with frost. Icicles began radiating out from Christopher’s hand, extending beyond the sigil while still unable to break the plane between him and the officer.

The cop’s glare matched the frostbite.

Veins of magma began pulsing inside Christopher’s arm. They spread throughout the icicles, making each one glow with vermillion light. The officer was much less sure of his magical ward now. In a flash, the weird’s frozen hand transformed into a torrent of boiling liquid. Lights flickered as the ward’s magic struggled to adapt to the phase shift. The traffic guard was smart enough to leap out of the way as the Azorius sigil faded and Christopher resumed his relentless march.

Fleeing screams dotted the soundscape of Dodek Junction as carts burst into flame and beasts of burden were frozen in their tracks. The cop was in shock as humanoids of every shape dashed for refuge.

“Out of the way, people! Cannon comin’ through!” one voice rose above the cacophony.

The officer turned and saw two lunatics running towards the destruction. A vedalken with bundles of cable wrapped around her torso was followed by a goblin driving some kind of massive cannon with spidery legs.

He surged with duty, “Halt! This is a disaster scene and all citizens must evacuate immediately!”

Lyrula strutted right up to the guard, glared down into his eyes, and placed one finger on his chest. “Back off, man, I’m a scientist.” A small zap and he collapsed, unconscious. “Anchor the cannon there, Pazat, we’re going to need plenty of room to wrangle Christopher down.”

Skittering legs skidded to a halt and jabbed into the cobblestone. The whirring of a generator deep inside the mobile turbo kiln cannon deluxe brought a smile to Pazat’s face.

Lyrula was busy unwinding thick metal cable from the machine she had strapped to her back. Four couplings were plugged into a drill-like spike that bored into the street, securing each line. The vedalken fed each one through a system of pullies on the device she wore, giving herself plenty of slack to move around. She affixed a hook to the end of each line.

Each step of the scheme played through her head. First, snare Christopher’s arms and legs with the mizzium cables. Second, charge the cables with the opposite polarity of the mizzium matrix inside the weird. Third, cycle the negavolts into the grounded spike to draw off heat and force Christopher into an icy state. Finally, vaporize that perfectly sculpted creature with the cannon, fully separating its dual elements. Both halves of the weird would be rendered inert for collection and returned to the lab.

She flipped a switch on the device, and the negavolts arced across her body. It was time to begin.

Scatter Arc by Peter Mohrbacher

Christopher stomped, incinerating an entire cart of coffee beans. The pleasant aroma permeated the plaza but was followed by a scream that could shatter the ears of a gargoyle. Lyrula’s first mizzium hook had snared an ankle. Vibrant crackles of energy morphed the boiling liquid into solid ice, anchoring one of Christopher’s legs to the street.

“Got you!”

Lyrula cranked a lever near her hip and one of the pulleys on her back began to reel in the excess cable. Hopping over the remains of a krovod yoke, she fired off her second snare. It hooked onto the weird’s shoulder above the same foot that was trapped and began cycling energy to and from his arm. Christopher wailed as more of his body solidified.

Half of the weird was now frozen, but the excess pyromantic energy was coalescing in the other half. The air itself cracked with electricity as the heat grew more intense. Christopher lurched and whipped his magmatic arm back at Lyrula, launching a blob of fire. Too preoccupied with maintaining her balance with the cables, her eyes grew wide with fear.

A flash of crimson light like an arrow collided with the ball of magma. Without losing a single foot-pound of momentum, the globule altered course and exploded in a corner café.

“I got your back!” shouted Pazat from atop the cannon, hands aglow with magic.

The third cable lodged itself into Christopher’s other arm, twisting its liquid form backwards before it fully froze. All of the weird’s remaining heat was focused in one leg, which was so hot it was beginning to melt the stone beneath it. Steam sizzled through the entire intersection as ambient water was vaporized by his fury.

Lyrula launched the final cable. Christopher struggled to dislodge the hook, but the vedalken planted a boot against cobblestone and held her ground.

Negavolts began destabilizing the molecular composition of the weird’s liquid leg. Condensation flooded the area as the air temperature rapidly cooled with Christopher’s body. Bubbling magma coagulated and began to harden on its surface. Obsidian crystals phased to blue as the weird’s elemental alignment shifted. Lyrula’s grimace morphed to a grin.

But it wasn’t enough. His leg was cooled like gelatin, but it wasn’t freezing.

“No. Damn. No!” she swore, fidgeting with a dial on her gear. Negavolt arcs traveled up and down the mizzium cable, but there wasn’t enough power to complete the transmutation. Lyrula crunched the calculations again. Did she miss a variable somewhere? Was there a mistaken coefficient? Had she simply forgotten how basic arithmetic worked? There was no time. Her heart felt like it was going to punch through her brass armor. Her plan had to work.

“Lyrula! I’m coming to help.” Pazat shouted.

“No, you need to stay with the cannon! We only get one shot, so we can’t miss the window.”

“Don’t get all troll-brained about it; we’re not even going to hit the window right now. I’ve got something to help!” the goblin dug an object out of a crate and began the dash to her friend.

Her equipment prevented her from turning around, so Lyrula buckled her knees and braced herself for whatever her reckless colleague was going to do. KLUNK went her goggles down over her eyes as something was placed on her head.

“Oh for crying out loud, is that the…”

“Yuppers!” Pazat exclaimed, “I figured Mizzix’s helmet was good enough to get this experiment working the first time, so I brought it along with me now. Just gotta connect this thing here, and that cable plugs in there, and—Ow! Lucky that didn’t take off my nail—and you’re all set to go full throttle on that sucker!”

Sweat soaked Lyrula’s neck, “This is insanity!”

“Oh, and I disengaged all the safety measures to ensure the unit doesn’t power down if you push it too far!”

“Damn you, Pazat!”

“I believe in you, friend!”

She was wrangling an experiment-gone-wrong in a stolen helmet in an attempt to not be eaten by a ten-thousand-year-old-dragon, so in Lyrula’s mind it was only logical that she push herself to the precipice of death now anyway. The words flowed from her mouth like a crashing waterfall. The spell wasn’t meant for her body, but her muscles tensed all the same. Pulleys whirled into action as all four cables pulled taut. Undulating waves of energy siphoned as much heat as they could from Christopher’s body. The weird bellowed in what was probably something similar to agony, but the vedalken figured that was a philosophical question best left to the Selesnya. She responded with her own roar as Mizzix’s helmet amplified her magical power to her physiological limit.

Like the snapping of a tree branch, a section of Christopher’s leg turned to ice. Then another. And another. The crackling ceased, and the moment had arrived. Lyrula almost forgot to give the command.

“NOW!”

Pazat had made it back to the cannon just in time. She climbed to the top, grabbed the main crankshaft, and heaved with every ounce of strength her little goblin body could muster.

Burn by Ryan Barger

The mobile turbo kiln cannon deluxe vaulted a concentrated inferno across Dodek Junction, inundating Christopher’s frozen form. The weird made no vocalizations. The only sound was popping as ice vaporized and drifted away on the wind, carrying the mizzium matrix Lyrula had designed with it.

One by one the cables attached to her back slackened as the form they were anchored to evaporated. She removed Mizzix’s helmet and wriggled out of her gear. Metal clanged against stone as she stretched her limbs in freedom. She felt so light that she might even float away too.

Her lavender eyes refused to blink as droplets of orange liquid condensed back onto the ground. A few stray negavolts arced through the air as the mizzium matrix dispersed among the clouds. The silence in what was usually one of the busiest intersections in Ravnica was eerie, but welcomed after the ordeal.

Lyrula was snapped back to reality when Pazat affectionately punched her leg. “Told you it would work.”

The two women smiled at each other.

“Do you think the mizzium matrix could ever cause a new weird to form around it?” the vedalken had one final doubt.

“Hm…” the goblin pondered, “It’s possible that if it remains bonded to enough of the original vaporous molecules, a strong lightning blast could infuse the matrix with enough energy to bind a second element to it. A thundersnow weird? Not sure anyone has made one of those yet.”

“I guess there’s always a chance,” Lyrula exhaled.

A cough sounded behind them, “I’m placing both of you under arrest for disobedience of a direct evacuation order, assault and battery of a member of the Azorius Senate Transportation Commission, unlicensed use of pyroclastic weaponry, and general rowdiness. Surrender to be detained peacefully and no further charges will be levied against you.” The officer’s face was coated in ash and his armor was chipped, but he was determined to continue serving the public.

“Didn’t I zap you already?” Lyrula smirked.

Pazat was slightly ruder, “Plus, we just saved your butt. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

The officer’s face looked like a radish, “Now listen here you insubordinate little…”

Lyrula wasn’t going to hear any of it. “How about we tell your chief that you let all this damage happen on your watch? I’m sure they’d be happy to reassign you to a more manageable post, like sweeping dung out of Savra Memorial Tunnel.”

“And you know how big those Golgari rotroaches get,” Pazat chimed in.

The officer looked nauseous, “One of my Boros buddies said they can bite the head clean off a minotaur,” He rubbed the back of his head and shifted his eyes to the ground, “I guess I can let you off so long as you’ve both learned your lesson.”

“That we’re a couple of badass scientists?” said Pazat.

“That won’t become dragon chow?” said Lyrula, placing her finger on the man’s chest.

ZAP

“I can’t believe he fell for that again,” she said as he slumped onto the cobblestone. “So the first thing we’ll need to do is collect the pyretic fluid in a cryocontainer. I’ll dispose of it before I go home for the day. I have a series of logbooks to finish filling out with the uh, results, of this experiment. We’ll need to put in a requisition for a new wall, new lab equipment, new lab clothes, and new lab signage. I think we can run another trial next week if we’re lucky.”

Pazat kicked a rock, “I’m thirsty.”

“Just get the cannon back to the warehouse. We have a huge mess on our hands.”

Suddenly, the plaza was besieged by a deafening voice over the research facility’s electrophonic system, “Lyrula! Pazat! What happened to your laboratory? Why aren’t you here? Where is my helmet?” It was Mizzix herself.

The vedalken looked down at her goblin friend, “How about drinks, now, at the Blown Gasket?”

“They do say that the true meaning of science is after-work sugar ales with a good friend.”

Lightning flashed in the distance.

[zackgardner]

Dead Space

Dead Space - Zack Gardner - SciFi - 3742 words - 2017

 The breakneck pace that the Impervious365-X4 had maintained for the past three billion lightyears suddenly pulled back to a lurching crawl, its final destination within sight. The Impervious365-X4 shifted into a comfortable orbit of the blue planet, hissing precise bursts of compressed air to adjust its calculated course. Screens long dark flicked on, back-up systems powering up with a sleepy whine. Cool blue wall panels slowly illuminated the cockpit of the cumbersome vessel.

The A.I. system powered up all of its resources, leaving its hibernation state and returning its CPU and processing speeds to normal. It reinserted its empathy drive along with its short term RAM and ran a SYS check. There was something that needed to be done; something primary. Something urgent. Full interior and exterior cameras and mics rebooted, giving the onboard A.I. its senses back, just as the SYS check completed, flooding the AI's human-esque mind with feelings and memories.

"Oh dear," the A.I. stated aloud. Strapped to main control chair in the cockpit was one of the Portsuits, inhabited. The A.I. activated the control chair's functions, connecting with the Portsuit. It began to recount the events from three billion years ago, before the jump to lightspeed, as data simultaneously poured from the Portsuit into the onboard AI.

"Oh dear." It stated again to itself.

 It was dark and he couldn't move. Panic wasn't far behind, but at least he knew it wasn’t far behind, so there was solace in that, right? He couldn’t even tell if it was darkness, or his eyes were shut. Everything felt fuzzy and off. He tried remembering how he got here and came up blank. He tried remembering the most basic of things and came up blank. Panic arrived just in time. If he could have made himself scream, he would have.

"Oh dear." He heard, his mind instantaneously clearing of the panic. He could hear - that was a start. There were the humming and soft grinding sounds of computers, the buzz of fluorescents.

"Now Master Fiore, I'm going to have to ask you to stay as calm as possible while I try to reconnect your senses." The voice held a thick British accent, prim and proper, but with the softness and monotone obviously making it a computer system. Aside from that, the voice was oddly familiar. Comfortably familiar.

Reconnect, he wondered? And suddenly there was blinding light and clarity, as vision returned to him. The luminescent of the control panel screens, brushed steel and plastics of the cockpit and the dull glare of the thick glass viewport. A massive blue and green planet took up half of the window, the other half a quick atmospheric fade to the stark black of outer space. He gasped at the beauty in spite of himself, hearing his intake of breath through the mic in the Portsuit.

"That should do for visual. And audio input/output should be up as well." The same disconnected British voice. "Can you hear me, Master Fiore?"

Fiore. That sounded right. There was a familiarity to that as well.

"Y-Yes. I am… I am having some difficulties." He said with a shaky voice, tinny over the Portsuit's microphone. “M-motor functions and… and I my, ah, my memory is - is blank.” He tried lifting his hand, looking down at his arm slowly responding, the sleeve of the Portsuit fading seamlessly into its bulky glove.

“Well, Master Fiore, you are a doctor of cybernetics returning from a long-haul run to an outrigger colony. Your full name is Amadeus Fiore, no middle name, the ship you are currently on is called the Impervious365-X4, and my name is-”

“Pervy!” Fiore almost shouted. “We called you Pervy!”

“Very good sir.” The A.I. stated dryly. “We had some complications upon the initiation of cryosleep whilst cycling up the hyperdrive. In response to that, you donned one of the ship’s Portsuits to use its hibernation function. Rather bold move, I do say, but at the time, the best option you had, Master Fiore.”

“Well thank you… Pervy.” Fiore chuckled. “I’m still having some issues with this suit. My mobility is shot. Can we maybe run a recalibration to the suit’s servos?” The Portsuit was a fitted spacesuit, meant to protect and enhance those on the longer trips into deep space. It was a fully enclosed suit, visor and helmet that could protect against the extreme negative temperatures, pressure differences and strains of zero gravity that travelers would come across. Not only that, the models that the Impervious365-X4 was equipped with also boasted full musculature support, full sensory support, full temporal uplink, and even a basic cryo-hibernation option. When equipped, the suit could jack into the brainstem access port all of the crewmembers had had surgically embedded into the base of their skull, at the hairline. All of the suit’s options, or whatever piece of equipment the suit was ported to, could then be controlled cerebrally.

“Certainly, Master Fiore, I have it running now. You should be mobile momentarily… But, sir, there are some other concerns that I should bring to your attention.”

 “Oh yes, Ama, there are other concerns,” came a female voice, sultry, and as though whispered into his ear. He recognized the voice and the moniker. A memory of a feeling. On the tip of his tongue. He jerked his head towards the sound, of course, just the empty cockpit. Just him and Pervy.

 “Of Course, Pervy. I-I appreciate your concern.” Fiore said, shaking it off. “It’s nice to know I have a friend such as you, if I know nothing else!”

“Sir, need I remind you, I have no real emotions or emotional attachment. I merely act on one of my prime directives as to the safety and welfare of the crew…”  The A.I. responded cordially.

“Well that’s good to know too, Pervy, but it would have been better if you’da just taken the compliment.” Fiore laughed exasperatedly. Maybe he should have the A.I. run a SYS test on his access port. Or maybe the temporal uplink needed recalibrated? Who was that girl??

“Alas, sir, undeservedly so. It was all your idea to use the Portsuit – when all of the cryochambers were full.” The A.I. responded. “But, sir if you don’t mind, can I ask what happened just now? Your vitals spiked off the charts for a moment there…”

“Nothing, Pervy… Nothing.” Fiore knotted his brow and pinched his eyes shut trying to put it out of his head. “I’m fine now-wait!!! Chamber-s?! Pervy, cryochambers plural?! There’s more sleepers onboard??” Fiore shouted, leaping up from the chair. Was she there? Was there a She? “Show me!” He exclaimed, slapping the Portsuit’s gauntlet against the Open panel and rushing out the porthole as it slid open.

“To the left up here, Master Fiore,” The A.I.’s voice paced him as he ran down the curved-walled corridor. “Our course has us maintaining orbit for the next three hours until we reach our descent/landing trajectory… I will directly be beginning the rejuvenation cycle for the other passengers, but first, sir, I really need to-”

“Pervy!” Fiore shouted, halting suddenly in front of a labeled portal. “Open this damned door!”

“…yes sir.” The A.I. answered, the door sliding open.

 Fiore scratched the back of his neck where the jack had been wired. It was still sore, having pulled the bandage off a day early. Kaela had gone with him, had had the same procedure. She sat beside him on the blanket, bare legs basking in the warm sun, her black hair tied back showing fair shoulders, olive skin kissed pink by the sun. He felt the heat, his shoulders already freckled and red, his auburn-red hair sweaty and tucked under a baseball cap. They would have to leave tomorrow, and she had so much left to tell him.

 “Sir?” The A.I. asked, a note of concern in his voice. “Your vitals, sir!” Fiore shook his head to clear it, the tinted visor of the fitted helmet shaking in tandem. His vision making the dull blue lighting of the ship leave trails in the air.

“It’s nothing. I… I think it’s just a side effect from the long-term hibernation in the suit.” Fiore clutched his head and staggered into the hibernation room. The room shone antiseptically metal and white. Shower stalls and mirrored sinks lined one wall while the opposite wall housed personal lockers, airtight and secure for travel. Lined side-by-side the length of the room were the cryochambers, ten in total. All occupied.

“Master Fiore, there’s-”

 “There is more Ama. You’re going to just love this.” The voice said teasingly inside Fiore’s head. He righted himself, shaking the helmet, trying to clear his head.

 “Master Fiore, I must insist you pause for a moment.” The A.I. began. “Your vitals keep spiking, and there is a matter you must be made aware of post haste!”

“Pervy, I’m fine!” Fiore insisted, more to himself than to the motherly A.I. Was she in here? Was she in his head?! He headed towards the line of cryochambers, not sure which would be worse. “I just need to reacclimatize to being out of hibernation. Once that’s complete, my friend, I can doff the confines of this stuffy old suit and I will be as right as rain.”

The A.I. was silent for a change, to Fiore’s surprise. He glanced up at the row of dull blue illuminated tiles that ran the length of the ship (where they would all look when speaking to Pervy, as though needing a face for the disembodied voice) awaiting any sort of response. Having none, he shrugged and moved on.

Fiore stepped to the first chamber, peering into the translucent upper half of the brushed steel and glass sarcophagus. He didn’t recognize the middle-aged man in the chrysalis, nor the woman in the next, nor the next, or even the one after that. He stumbled to the next and stopped short, taking a second and longer look.

 Grant took Kaela’s hand, interlacing their fingers and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. They sat hand in hand on the public bench outside of the guest barracks, watching a stream of meteors flow in a belt around a titanic gaseous planet. Kaela glanced at the cybernetics guy as he passed, giving her a half-wave. That one was odd. He’d have to keep an eye on him. They were maybe a month into their sabbatical aboard the deepspace station, there to provide support, repairs and maintenance for the growing crew of the station. The crew of the Impervious365-X4 would be stationed there for just over a year, so he had better make sure to keep clear of the two of them.

 “James? No, Grant. Grant!” Fiore said, slapping the glass of the cryochamber in triumph. “I remember that prick.” He slid his hand down the chamber and headed to the next.

 The news had devastated him. Kaela had told him on the picnic they had shared, the day before launch. She had cried, and so had he, in spite of himself and perhaps in spite of her. She had said they could no longer see each other and begged him not to talk about it; not to talk to her any more. Despite that, they met again that night, in secret, and made love on the couch of his small rental, sparse of furniture and on its last day of the lease. She left as she had arrived, without a word, eyes sad and on the verge of tears.

 “It was never meant to be – what we had.” She whispered bitingly.

 He saw Kaela at launch, of course, but the formalities and preparations kept them apart. After the journey and the recuperation aboard the deepspace station, Fiore would see her in passing, usually with Grant. Her fiancé. Her fiancé. He had stewed about it for weeks on end, almost a month into their yearlong stint in deepspace. But then came the neuromail message, anonymous, that they should meet. That she needed to see him, now more than ever. That she had to see him in private; had to tell him something.

 Fiore stroked the clear portion of the cryochamber with his thickly gloved hand. She slept peacefully under the glass, the memories falling back into place haphazardly. She was a beauty, silken raven-black hair down to her shoulders with contrasting olive skin, fair and smooth. Even after all she had done his heart still wrenched, trying to pull itself out of his chest, when he looked at her. There was only one more chamber left. His. Fiore plodded on, the Portsuit’s thick rubber bootsoles shuffling on the grated metal floor.

 There had been the usual issues during the return trip takeoff, nothing serious, but now that they had cleared orbit and chartered a hyperspace course, chaos had ensued. The countdown had begun, and the cryosleep chambers were all but full, chemicals pumping and setting stasis for the crew. The last three pods were still open, hissing compressed air and other gases into the hibernation room. All three pods were buzzing warnings, touchscreen controls warning the occupant to initiate cryo stasis as soon as possible. The A.I. was there, obviously, and trying to placate the remaining crew. Kaela sat in her open chamber, shimmying up to the front in order to hop back out, shouting indecipherably. Grant stood over Fiore’s chamber, hands flying over the access screen. Fiore picked himself back up off the grated floor, rubbing his already-swollen jaw, murder in his eyes.

 “I didn’t know though. You have to believe that I didn’t know what he had planned.”

 Grant stepped away from Fiore’s cryochamber, the pod door closing and setting its locking mechanism. He roughly pushed Kaela back into her pod, initiating her pod as well. Fiore stood and swayed – he had not been punched in years, not since primary school... And never like this. The suckerpunch had knocked him down, his head connecting with the metal floor almost as painful as the surprise hard right from Grant. Grant looked at him contemptuously and sneered as he walked slowly to his own pod. Fiore staggered toward him, the room still spinning. Everything was muffled and fuzzy. He probably had a concussion from hitting the floor, and the throbbing in his jaw wasn’t helping. He could hear Kaela screaming at him, screaming at Grant. He could hear his heart beating inside his ears, competing for his attention. He could hear Pervy insistently in the background, urging him to do something, warning him of something… And there was another sound. Another sound most foreign to him.

 “You’re almost there, love. Remember.”

 The droll accent of the A.I. finally broke through the throbbing pain.

“Master Fiore, the jump into hyperspace is imminent. You need to prepare yourself. Your chamber has been tampered with, and I can no longer access it.” Fiore squeezed the bridge of his nose and pinched his eyes shut trying to push the pain away from his brain to make room for thinking. Grant had a smug smile on as his cryochamber latch locked into place, and Kaela kept screaming and beating on the curved glass of her pod. And that other sound... That other sound.

“Pervy, power up the cockpit support controls.” Fiore shouted, turning and running out the hibernation room into the curved-walled corridor. The A.I. paced him, a flash in the bluelit panel. “I don’t care about ship controls, but I want full access to UI protocols and Portsuit protocols.” He spun a corner, equilibrium still off, banging his shoulder into the wall.

“I want my Portsuit opened and powering up by the time I get to it!” He shouted, running full-tilt and leaping through the open port doors as they came. He was out of breath and panting wildly by the time he arrived at the Portsuit locker.

 “Yes, but that sound. The other sound. Remember the other sound? Not me screaming, not the silly computer, not your half-assed survival plan… The other sound.”

 Fiore had the suit on in no time and was doggedly running again, sprinting for the cockpit, attempting a software hack of the access screen on his left forearm that controlled the amenities of the Portsuit. He was already temporally jacked into the suit, but he would need a little time to create the uplink to the ship’s CPU. The A.I. had reverted to a calm countdown until the jump to hyperspace initiated. It would be close, if anything. It would be—

 “The sound, Ama. Please.” She begged.

 Fiore stood at the foot of this cryochamber, afraid to move to the head and peer inside. Afraid, and he didn’t know why. He gritted himself and prepared to move forward.

“Master Fiore.” The A.I. cut apprehensive silence so suddenly that Fiore jumped. “The matter we need to discuss. It will not wait.” Fiore sighed and stepped back from the pod.

“Go ahead, Pervy. Let’s have at it.”

“Your Portsuit, sir.”

“I know, Pervy, but everything seems to be intact. We’ll have to write the company a letter of commendation when we’re back on the ground, if they even still exist.” Fiore laughed lightly, trying to clear his mind of worry. “Who knew these dinky suits could hold out for that long, eh?”

“That’s the problem, sir. The support systems of the Portsuit such as the musculature support and the sensory support have maintained nominally, along with the temporal access port. However, the-”

“The hibernation function?” Fiore finished.

“…Yes sir.”

 “Ama, please… It’s going to be okay.” Kaela whispered in his ear.

 Fiore spun away from the line of cryochambers, making a beeline toward the shower area. The floor seemed to be swaying, like the old-time ships, the ones that floated on water. He almost fell onto the nearest sink, gauntleted hands gripping the white porcelain. He looked in the mirror at the Portsuit helmet, staring back at him: Tight-fitting helmet, airlocked at the neck, black visor, miniature auxiliary cameras at each corner.

“Pervy, what did you do?!”

“Master Fiore… Master Fiore, the hibernation sequence could only be held for a definitive amount of time. It was never meant-” The A.I. stopped speaking, hushed by Fiore slowly reaching for the visor release, a small catch at the base of the helmet.

“Master Fiore, perhaps-”

“Shut up!!!” Fiore shouted through clenched teeth, the mic gritty and screeching with his outburst. The A.I. fell silent again, and waited as the thick fingers of the Portsuit flicked the visor’s catch.

The visor slid up into the top of the helmet smoothly, revealing the interior of the helmet. Fiore gripped the porcelain hard, spiderwebbing the sides of the sink. An old blackened skull was nestled snugly in the confines of the helmet, dark gray and pitted with age. No flesh remained, just dusty bone. Fiore pinwheeled his arms, falling backward and landing with a thud on his rump. A skeleton. His breathing labored over the microphone. I’m all but a skeleton.

“Sir, perhaps I should…” The A.I. began. “When you were in stasis, I ran diagnostics on your Portsuit and found its… limitations. The temporal link to the suit allowed me to reverse engineer a new partition in the suit’s mainframe… Once that was complete and I could add to that partition with extraneous parts we had in the repair bay…”

Fiore was barely listening. He got back on hands and knees and began crawling back toward the line of cryochambers. Towards the last one. Towards his.

 “Ama… Please, you need to understand. You need to remember.”

 Fiore pulled himself up against the pod, and dragged himself toward its head. A skeleton!

“It took an extraneous amount of time, but I managed to copy over your entire memory catalogue, emotion directory and synapse response directory. And after that, it was quite easy to set up the musculature and sensory systems of the suit to respond to the suit’s cerebral controls.” The A.I. said proudly, as though expecting a pat on the back. Nothing but a bag of bones, in other words. Fiore cringed and pinched his eyes shut, realizing that he was not actually pinching his eyes shut.

 “Ama, you need to calm down and think. Ama, please!” The voice crooned. But it was only a voice. Another ghost in his machine. Fiore took a deep breath (aware that he was not in fact taking a deep breath) and peered into his cryochamber.

 A child, or a baby more like, was swaddled in a blanket sound asleep, frozen in time. It had smooth olive skin, an obvious attribute to its mother… And it had a light wisp of auburn-red hair, barely enough to be noticeable in the blue light of the hibernation room. The sound now echoed clearly in his memory as everything fell into place. Not Grant’s threatening rhetoric. Not Kaela’s panicked shrieks. Not the A.I.’s monotone warnings.

 The baby cried, confused and frightened until the vapors from the cryochamber initiating its hibernation sequence lulled it into a doctored sleep. Fiore’s fingers flew over the access screen of the Portsuit, overwriting and rewriting new commands. He barely heard the damned A.I. begin the last minute countdown. He hashed out code and commands he knew by rote. His mind a million miles away. The baby. The baby was his.

 Fiore fled from the room, before the rejuvination cycle could begin. He fled from the impending confrontation. He fled from the future he obviously could have no part in; from the past that he had just so recently discovered. He fled from the memories that were painfully searing into what his conscious still considered his brain. Fiore prayed that from the depths of the ship where he would hide that he would not be able to hear the cries of his baby as it awoke to a life back home. He fancied he could feel tears running down the pitted cracks in his ancient skull.

 Once the Impervious365-X4 reached its target location, it began its trajectory descent back to Earth. The rejuvenation cycle began automatically, restoring the crew and awakening them - acclimating them back into normalcy. The crew of the Impervious365-X4 returned to Earth with the same number of human travelers it had left with, all those years ago.