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cameronspecial · 10 months ago

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Assisting In Deception (Part 4)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Thoughts about Sexual Content

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Rafe shows his protective side for Y/N when gossip turns away. The wedding went better than they thought it would.

Masterlist

The next day, Rafe enters the office to the whispers of his employees. He can’t hear anything specific that they are saying as he glides to his office. He looks over to see if Y/N is at her desk and is surprised she isn’t there. He checks his watch to make sure he has the time right. It’s 10 AM, which means she is an hour late for work. She’s never been late before and this worries him. He heads into his office to call her but is interrupted by Jenna knocking. “Ms. Walsh, do you know where Ms. Y/L/N is?” he asks her, looking at both his work phone and personal one to see if Y/N left any sort of message. Jenna gives him a sad smile and enters his office, “Yes, sir. It’s actually why I came to talk to you. The news about you and her dating got out yesterday and the others have been saying some things she must have overheard and it upset her.”

A scowl crosses his face and he feels his blood boil. He storms out of his office into the bullpen outside. The loud slamming of his feet on the floor as he takes a stand in the middle of the room quiets everyone. “It has come to my attention that Ms. Y/L/N and mine’s personal relationship has made itself public knowledge,” he begins his threat. “If I hear anyone say anything about our personal business in this office or on a digital platform, you will be immediately fired and I will make sure you never get hired anywhere again. Is that clear?!” The crowd turns away in embarrassment at being caught and a few nod to show that his point was made.

“I’m sorry I’m late Mr. Cameron, I overslept a litt-,” Y/N apologizes while walking into the office to hear silence and Rafe in the middle of everything. She turns to Rafe in perplexity, which is met with her being ushered into his office. He lets her settle into the couch and he sits beside her. He leaves some distance between the two because they don’t need to keep up with the appearance of a relationship in the privacy of this room. “Are you okay? I heard that people were saying things about you when they learnt about us,” he worries, hesitantly placing his hand on her back to rub it in reassurance. “Yeah, I’m fine. I have thick skin. Don’t worry about it,” she tries to brush it off. He turns her to face him, tilting her chin to look him in the eyes, “Please, don’t lie to me. I know it’s the reason why you were late today.” She adverts her eyes from him for a second.

“Fine, they got to me. But I’m fine now. It’s water under the bridge.” As she says those words, she can’t fight the tears that form in her eyes while she remembers the insecurities she feels because of their words. Rafe brings her into his embrace and buries his head into her hair. He inhales the strawberry scent of her shampoo and presses a kiss to her hair in a friendly manner. She feels more comfortable with him, letting her sobs release into his neck. “It’s okay. They won’t be saying anything about you anymore,” he promises. She nods, lifting her head to look at him, “Thank you. Can we just get back to work, please? It’s my turn to be apathetic.” He lets out a chuckle and gets up from the couch. “Okay, sounds good. Could you book a meeting with Mr. Kingston?”

——

The workday ends later than planned with multiple meetings being longer than planned and new ones needing to be urgently booked in. Y/N couldn’t leave work for the day because he needed her to go over next month's planning. By the time they finish, it is midnight and she is getting ready to head back home by subway. They get on the same elevator together and when she goes to press the ground floor button, he stops her. “I’m not letting you go on the subway this late. I’ll drive you,” he offers, pushing the parking garage button. She looks over at him with warmth, “No, I can’t let you do that. I live in the opposite direction of where you need to go.”

“Then you can stay at my place for the night. I have lots of empty rooms for you to sleep in.”

“Boss, I promise it’s fine.”

“Butterfly, please, let me do this so I don’t have to worry about you.”

Knowing she won’t win this argument and that he is right about it being safer, she moves her hand from the elevator buttons and steps back. Once the elevator gets to the parking level, he leads her to his car and opens the passenger door for her. The ride to his apartment is filled with another one of her playlists, both of them being tired from the late work day. The door opening catches Dax’s attention and he rushes to his owner’s side. However, Dax finds intrigue in the girl beside his dad. “Omg, who is this little cutie?” she gushes, kneeling down to give the boy attention. She gives him the belly rubs he normally begs his father for. Dax sits up from the sitting position and she gives his face multiple kisses.

Rafe feels jealous that her focus is on his dog. He never thought he would want to be a hairy four-legged creature. Yet, he wants to capture this moment forever. He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of the scene. “I saw that,” she quips, looking up at him. “I’ve been thinking. And I think that you should post that picture on social media.”

“Okay, but you can see your face in this one. Let me take another one with your hair blocking your face.

“Um, that was the point. The cat is already out of the bag with who I am at the office. My cousin’s post is bound to make my identity known to everyone.”

“Are you sure? I can have my lawyers force your cousin to take it down and then get everyone at the office to sign an NDA.”

“That’s sweet. But I’m sure. That is all too much of a hassle to hide something that we are going to have to reveal later anyway.”

“Okay.” She gets up from the floor and makes her way over to him to watch as he makes the post. In turn, she pulls out her phone, scrolling through different pictures she has taken of them. She lands on one she took while he was driving and shows it to him. “What about it?” he questions, glancing at her phone for a second and then going back to writing a caption.

“Are you okay with me posting it too?”

“You want to post it?” He looks up at her with a glint of happiness. Rafe didn’t think she’d want to do that. Most relationships he has been in, romantic or otherwise, have had the other person want him to show them off through posts on his social media. They either wanted more followers or the chance to advertise whatever they had. And when they posted about him, it was for the same reason. Yet, he knows that’s not what it is for Y/N. Her account is private and she only ever posts about things that she loves or special events. She posts every few months and doesn’t just let random people follow her. Something about her posting him felt more intimate to him. He realizes it might be to just keep up appearances of a relationship, but he doesn’t let his excitement of the action turn down. “Yeah, you can post it. It’s actually a really good picture,” he confirms.

A few minutes later, they both receive a notification that the other posted and they both go to like the picture. They both stare at the caption of the posts and marvel that they are both on the same wavelength. Rafe’s My Butterfly 🦋 causes Y/N to instinctively play with her hair while her My Boss 😍 causes Rafe to fidget with his rings as he realizes how much he likes the nickname. They look up at each other and smile before she lets out a tired yawn. His smile continues at how adorable her face looks while she does it, holding his hand out for her to take. He takes her to the guest bedroom closest to his room in case she needs anything. He tells her to wait for a second so he can get her a new toothbrush and some clothes to sleep in. He returns with gray sweatpants and a t-shirt that appears to be from his high school varsity days. She goes into the adjoining bathroom to change and brush her teeth.

When she comes out and gets herself settled into the bed, he catches a glimpse of his last name on her back and he wants to melt at the sight. “I’m just next door to the right if you need anything.” As he says that, Dax prances his way to the room and hops onto the bed beside her. “Bud, you can’t sleep here. Give her some space,” Rafe orders, getting closer to the bed to get the German shepherd off. Y/N shakes her head and holds up her hand, “It’s okay. He can sleep here if he wants.” He pauses his advancement and bobs his head.

“Okay. Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she smiles, giving him a small wave while petting Dax. Rafe leaves the room with a sigh. He gets ready for bed and he can’t stop himself from thinking about the girl in the next room. His cheeks redden at the thought of her in his clothes. He can’t explain why he feels this way.

——

The wedding ceremony was beautiful and the reception was just as stunning. Y/N and Rafe watch the first dance with fond smiles. He leans in to whisper against the shell of her ear, “Do you ever think about getting married?” She turns her attention towards him. “Not really, I guess I’ve always been a little scared of planning my future. I can’t imagine anything more past next month,” she clarifies. The disappointment that settles in his heart is inexplicable, but he can’t think about it for too long because Nancy is asking him to dance with her. He takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor. Y/N gushes at the sight of Rafe dancing with Nancy and takes a picture of the pair.

She goes to talk to a few family members, looking over her shoulder every so often to see her sister still dancing with her boyfriend. Her sister’s cheeks are so red that it is adorable. “Can you dance with me?” a little boy begs and by his blond hair, she guesses that he is from Gwen’s side of the family. Y/N smiles at him and takes him over to the dance floor. She takes his hands into hers, swaying them to the sound of the music. The song switches to a slow one and Rafe takes this as his opportunity to cut in, “Can I have my girlfriend back, please?” The boy pouts but runs off to find his parents. Rafe wraps his arms around her waist and she puts hers around his neck. Y/N’s head rests on his chest. They sway to the sound of the music and this is probably the closest they’ve ever been.

Nate points out the dancing duo to his wife and she smiles at the scene. Her phone captures the moment, “I’ve never seen her so in love before.” She knew her daughter had issues with believing in love, but she always hoped that love would find the girl. She’s glad that it did.

The music stops and the dessert is announced to be out for serving. Rafe mutters that he’s going to get them some dessert and another drink, breaking apart so he can do so. She heads back to the table. “Where’s Rafe?” Nancy inquires, looking around for her sister’s boyfriend. Y/N shakes her head, “It feels like you like him more than you like me. And he is getting some dessert and drinks.” Her little sister’s face lights up when Rafe comes into view. He is balancing two plates in one hand and two drinks in the other. A tingling feeling passes through her body as she sees the way his long fingers stretch out to hold both glasses. Rafe sets the drinks in front of his place and hers then lays a plate down for Nancy before he gives Y/N hers. Both girls give thanks for his gesture.

Upon looking at all of her favourite sweets, she goes to toy with her hair but can’t because she puts her hair up for the wedding. Seeing that she needs something to do with her hands, Rafe takes her hand into his and fiddles with the rings on her fingers. It is moments like these that make it harder for Y/N to remember that this is all not real.

——

Saturday means Y/N lets herself lounge around all day. The only source of substance that she consumed was coffee even though it was late into the afternoon. Rafe and her have been texting all day and she just forgot to make something for lunch. She makes the mistake of telling him in passing that she hasn’t eaten anything. Disappointment floods her when he doesn’t respond after that. About an hour later, a knock comes on her front door, assuming it is just her sister, who is meant to come over from dinner, she opens it without another thought.

Rafe stands before her with two paper bags in hand. “What are you doing here?” she queries, letting him into the apartment. He looks back at her with crossed eyes, “You can’t tell me that you haven’t eaten all day and expect me to just do nothing about it. I’m cooking you dinner.”

“I had something to eat.”

“Coffee is not a meal, Butterfly. So you are going to let me cook for you because I know you don’t like it. I’m making farro mafaldine with black truffle butter and mushrooms. Something I picked up when I was in Naples.”

“Okay, but I was supposed to make dinner for Nancy. She’s coming over soon.”

“Well, now, I’m making dinner for all of us. I bought enough for four people. Is your roommate here? Or how about that neighbour you say has a crush on her?”

“No. Juni is at her parents' place and Alexander is working a twenty-four-hour shift. So it’s just gonna be you, me and Nancy.”

“Sounds good.”

He gets to work moving around the kitchen and she sits at the kitchen island, watching his process. She is entranced by the sight before her. He came from the office, so his buttoned-up shirt had his sleeves folded up his forearms, which always makes her drool. He unbuttoned the top few buttons and she could see the glimmer of his chain from underneath. The naughty thought of what it would look like dangling over her as he pounded into her infiltrates her mind. She imagines him bending her over the kitchen counter and slamming himself into her. The opening of the front door snaps her out of her dirty daydream.

“Y/N/N, do you really have to cook? Last time you made me something, I’m pretty sure the rice was overcooked but the meat was undercooked. How about pizza instead?” Nancy suggests, stopping in her tracks when she sees Rafe. Her cheeks heat up and she tries to hide herself because she is wearing her paint-stained sweatpants and moth-eaten shirt. Her backpack hangs from her shoulder; a clear sign she is planning on staying the night. Rafe looks over at the girl, “Good thing I’m making dinner then. I promise your food will be appropriately cooked.” Nance giggles at the joke and sits at the kitchen island beside her sister to enjoy the view.

They eat the meal with pleasant conversation. “Oh, before I forget to tell you, Butterfly, there is a charity event that I have to go to and I’d like for you to come with me,” Rafe informs, looking up from his food to look at her. She pauses her chewing, “I would love to go. Although, I’m not too sure if I have anything to wear.”

“That’s not a problem. We can go dress shopping tomorrow. That way I know what to get to match you.”

Nancy interrupts, “Yes, a fashion show would be so much fun. Can I please come?” Rafe lets out a chuckle at the girl's excitement. “Of course. I’ll just clean up this mess and head out. I’ll pick you guys up in the morning.” Nancy’s head moves from side to side, “Nonsense. I’m a big girl. I know that sometimes boyfriends sleep over at their girlfriends’ houses. You don’t have to change your plans on my account. And you cooked, so I’ll clean up.” After Nancy cleans up, the trio plays a few board games until they decide it is time to head to bed. Nancy goes to sleep in Juni’s room and Rafe awkwardly follows Y/N to hers.

“You can sleep on my bed. I’ll get a pillow and blanket from the linen closet to sleep on the floor,” she proposes, moving around the room for her pyjamas.“No, I can sleep on the floor. It’s your bed after all,” he begins when another thought pops into his mind. “Or we could just share the bed. I mean if you are comfortable with that.” Y/N’s hair finds its way between her fingers, “Yeah, that can work. I…uhh… Don’t think I have any clothes big enough to fit you, so if you want, you can just sleep in your boxers.” She adverts her eyes from his and looks anywhere but near him. He agrees with the statement and she lets him go to brush his teeth before she goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

She gets back from the bathroom to find Rafe already under her blankets. His clothes are folded on her dresser. She bites her lip at the site of his shirtless figure peaking from the top of the blanket. His chain is now on full display and it takes everything in her not to pull him into a kiss with it. She quietly makes her way to her bed. She slides in beside him and they both turn on their sides, facing away from each other. They exchange goodnights and then let the sweet release of sleep come over them.

——

The sunlight coming from the curtain wakes Rafe from his slumber. He feels a weight on his chest, which confuses him. He looks down to see Y/N cuddled into his side. She shifts in her sleep and lets out a sigh that would make him hard if he didn’t already have a morning wood. He moves her hair out of her face, so he can see the small smile on her face. He wants to stay within her grasp, but the last thing he wants is for her to wake up to his boner in such little clothing. He untangles himself from her hold and goes to the door to see the clothes he ordered at the door already. He heads to the bathroom to get changed. By the time he gets out of the room, Y/N is waiting for him to finish up.

Rafe heads back to her room to get his phone and he feels guilty about how it felt to wake up with her in his arms. All he wants is for that moment to be real. For their relationship to be real.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @thepatriarchykeychain @abbybarnesstuff @maybankslover @wh0reforbucknasty @spencereidbasis @drewsmusee @starkowswife @mskezza

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defectivevillain · 5 months ago

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every tomb, every sea (spit the blood from your teeth)

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

summary:

Your head throbs and you bring a hand up to your temple, frowning when your hand comes back spotted with blood. Your ears are still ringing and a dull ache travels through your cheekbones and across your jaw. ALERT: This PDA (Personal Digital Assistant) has now rebooted in emergency mode with one directive: to keep you alive on an alien world.

The reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

word count: 7.5k | ao3 version

author's notes: This was supposed to be Hannibal-focused, but Subnautica quickly took hold of my brain and didn’t let go. Sorry not sorry. This is super self-indulgent and I am not ashamed.

This will not be canon compliant, because I haven’t finished the game yet. (Please please please don’t spoil it for me, I will cry.) PDA messages (except for the last one) are taken directly from the game! And to maintain biblical accuracy (haha), I wrote the beginning from the game’s opening scene.

warnings: mentions of cannibalism; blood/violence, ocean exploration (swimming, strange creatures); prolonged isolation; derealization, depression, hopelessness, survivor’s guilt, and contemplating life and death; panic attacks, hyperventilation, dry heaving; and some spoilers for Subnautica. Just… the trauma of crashing on an alien planet…! Being alone for so long..! It’s so crazy!111!

During your time on the Aurora, you never expected it to malfunction. And maybe that was optimistic of you but… hell, it’s a brand new-ship! As an employee of Alterra, you were privy to the majority of the ship’s construction process. The organization was unusually methodical with this particular ship’s development, ensuring that everything was up to regulation before dispatching the vehicle. You suppose you can understand that—after all, there were about 150 passengers designated to the ship. Even a commercial giant like Alterra can understand the potential fallout of losing that many lives—especially ones tied to the company’s inner workings.

Safe to say, when you first heard the alarm sound off, you thought it was a drill. That notion was quickly dispelled, however, when you noticed how your companions scrambled about to ensure their safety. It seemed that this was no drill. A voice coming from the comms urged you to abandon ship, striking fear into your heart and forcing you into motion. You raced down the hall and towards the nearest escape pod, climbing down the ladder and finding the nearby seat before pressing the button to launch the pod. Restraints immediately swept down over your shoulders, anchoring you to the seat. Immediately, you felt the pod shake as it separated from the Aurora; when you glanced up, you could catch a glimpse of the ship through the hatch in the ceiling. For an awful moment, everything seemed to fall to a horrible silence. Frozen, you watched through the hatch as the sky was suddenly overtaken with a rusty crimson—loud booming sounds confirming your fears that the Aurora was exploding. You grasped at the restraints with sweaty hands as the pod continued to tremble and shake around you. The fire extinguisher wrenched its way off of the wall and the cover for the control panel flew off, bouncing around the space as the pod hurtled down through the sky with increased speed. Alarms blared and red lights flashed menacingly. You could hardly take a breath before the metal lid of the control panel suddenly rushed towards you, sending a harsh pain through your head and submerging your vision in an overwhelming darkness.

The first sensation you register when you wake is an uncomfortable heat stinging your skin. As you blink your dry eyes open, you realize that you’re still strapped into your seat—restrained as fire roars along the pod. You frantically press at the button to release you, and it takes a few moments before the device finally lifts from your shoulders and leaves you to get off of the seat. Smoke has already settled in the air, and the flames have overtaken nearly half of the pod already. You don’t think you have much time. Coughing, you make a grab for the fire extinguisher—which lies precariously near the fire—and attempt to extinguish the flames. Within a minute, the flames have died down—leaving you to take in the tarnished lifepod around you. The control panel is shooting sparks and the smoke is slowly fading from the air. Taking a deep breath, you pull out your Personal Digital Assistant (PDA) and tap on the screen with a shaking finger. Immediately, the screen turns blue and displays a message:

[BOOTING IN EMERGENCY MODE]

[LOADING…]

100%

PDA ALERT: You have suffered minor head trauma. This is considered an optimal outcome.

You blink dazedly and grab at the ladder in the middle of the pod, needing to regain your balance. You’re not sure how long you stand there, the far too calm programmed voice of the PDA droning in your ears. Moments later, when spots stop dancing before your eyes, you regard the PDA in your hand and read the alert.

PDA ALERT: This PDA has now rebooted in emergency mode with one directive: to keep you alive on an alien world.

Back on the Aurora, you mainly used the PDA to monitor your health—while occasionally glancing at the Databank feature to do research on your intended destination. You never explored the device at length, because you didn’t think you would need to. Of course, you regret that now—as you’re scrolling through the device’s interfaces and attempting to learn how to use it. As the alert mentioned, it appears that you’re stranded on an alien planet. Dread coiling in your chest, you finally glance up at the hatch on the ceiling of the pod. You spot a flash of movement—likely a bird of some sort—but it is quickly lost in the overwhelming canvas of blue sky.

PDA ALERT: Please refer to the databank for detailed survival advice. Good luck.

You huff a wry laugh. You’re going to need all the luck you can get. Shaking your head, you swallow hard and start climbing up the ladder. While you’d like to hide in your pod forever, you know that you’ll need to survey your surroundings for resources. The pod has a radio that is definitely damaged; one fabricator for crafting raw materials into items and another for medical kits; and a limited amount of rations—with only two bottles of water and two nutrient blocks. It’s abundantly clear to you, in that moment, that the pod isn’t meant for long-term habitation. Taking a deep breath, you ascend up the ladder and stand on the ceiling of your pod, only to find vivid turquoise waters all around you. You look around frantically, only to realize that there’s no land in sight. The only disruption from the crystal waves of the ocean… is the fiery, crumbling wreckage of the Aurora. Smoke billows from several areas of the ship, and flames race across the surface. You feel something tighten in your throat and you choke on a breath, tears falling down your cheeks as you try to come to terms with the horrible reality you’re faced with.

PDA ALERT: The Aurora suffered orbital hull failure. Cause: unknown. Zero human life signs detected.

Zero signs of life. You fall down to your knees and grasp at the wet railing at the top of the ladder, fighting for breath. Your chest feels tight, your eyes burn, and you’re overcome with emotion. One thought cuts through all the static in your mind: you have no fucking idea what you’re doing. You can hardly survive in optimal conditions! How in the hell are you going to survive in the middle of the ocean, with no food or clean water in sight?

You desperately scan the horizon for other escape pods, but all you can see is the ocean. There’s no sign of any human life, except for you. The thought is nauseating enough to make you dry heave. You cough and hack until you regain your breath, then get to your feet once more and attempt to push away your spiraling thoughts. Sitting around and moping won’t do you any good. You suppress the urge to curl into a ball and descend down the ladder of your pod to survey its condition. Besides the broken control panel and radio, everything appears to be functioning properly. You decide to look through your PDA again, paying special attention to the section titled “Survival Package.” You read through the attached “Survival Checklist” and attempt to remain calm, despite everything in you screaming that you aren’t ready for this.

It’s a good thing first aid is listed as the first item on the list—you had entirely forgotten about your head wound. You take a first aid kit from the medical fabricator and apply it, successfully getting rid of the pulsating feeling that was concentrated in your temple. The steps after that are fairly self-explanatory, but it’s nice to have a formal list to hold yourself accountable. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you take a deep breath and look around the pod. There are a few existing blueprints on your PDA—one of which is a repair tool that will supposedly fix the radio. The radio is probably your priority right now, although you have a gnawing feeling deep in your chest that a rescue party won’t arrive. Unsurprisingly, you need several materials to make the repair tool—titanium, silicone rubber, and cave sulfur. You don’t have the faintest idea how to get any of those items, but you suspect they must be contained in the seemingly unending ocean you landed in.

Heart racing, you climb down the side of the pod and take a deep breath, before submerging yourself under water. Thankfully, it looks like your pod landed in a relatively safe and shallow area. There are sand banks that rise and fall in peaks and cliffs, with brightly colored coral scattered about their surfaces. You spot a grey-brown rock nearby and swim up to it, surprised to find that it yields copper ore when you strike at it. The moment you receive the copper ore, your PDA scares the life out of you by providing commentary.

PDA ALERT: Copper is an essential component of all powered equipment. Your probability of survival has just increased to unlikely, but plausible.

You shake your head in disbelief, gritting your teeth and swimming back up for air. Thankfully, you were provided a standard oxygen tank. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last very long—forcing you to return to the surface rather frequently to regain your breath. Now that you have copper, you just need titanium—which is supposedly a common resource here—and silicone rubber. The silicone rubber can be crafted from creepvine seeds from the nearby plants, and you manage to swim over and grab some without disturbing the scary creature that resembles a crocodile. Along the way, you find scraps of metal that can be converted into titanium. By the time you’re back in your pod, the sun has set and you have all the materials you need to make the repair tool. It takes you a few minutes to craft everything correctly, but soon enough, you have a repair tool.

The device is rather cool, you have to admit. It stitches things back together at an atomic level, which is pretty fascinating to watch. You don’t have much time to devote to admiring its power, however, as you focus your efforts on sending a distress message through the newly-repaired radio. Once that’s done, you eat a bit of one of the nutrient blocks and sip on some water. Soon, food and water are going to be your biggest problems. While you remember the Aurora having a rather large cafeteria, the food was likely destroyed in the fires.

You’re soon torn out of your thoughts by a blinking red light on your radio. Hope brewing in your chest, you jump and immediately press the button to play the message you just received.

RADIO: This is Aurora. Distress signal received. Rescue operation will be dispatched to your location in 9….9….9….9…9 hours.

You stare ahead at the radio in disbelief. A helpless, disbelieving laugh wrenches its way out of your throat. Surely that must’ve been a glitch. There’s- there’s no way help will take that long to arrive. Right? You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood, before deciding that you’ll save that problem for the morning (whenever that is). From what you can tell, the planet has periods resembling day and night. Admittedly, you’re exhausted. And, if a small part of you hopes that this is all just a dream, and you’ll wake up in your bed on the Aurora…

You dispel the thought and take a seat, before breathing in through your nose and closing your eyes. Despite everything that has happened—and the practically unquestionable fact that your chances at survival are horrifyingly low—you fall asleep.

In the days following your landing, it’s easy to lose track of time. You have no idea how many days you’ve spent on this planet… and you find that you don’t really care to keep track. You’ve been forced to focus on your own survival, especially as you slowly but surely make your way out of the biome you landed in and explore nearby. Once you craft a Scanner, you’re able to get blueprints from fragments of technology you find on the sea floor—in addition to scanning flora and fauna to learn more about them. The Scanner is very helpful, as you’re able to learn what plants and fish are edible without testing them yourself.

You’ve crafted some other useful items with the help of the fabricator in your pod, including a rebreather to conserve oxygen, fins, and a radiation suit; a flashlight; and a waterproof locker for increased storage. Ultimately, you haven’t had much time to focus on crafting items—you’ve been busy ensuring you have enough food and water. Not to mention, since you repaired your radio, you’ve received a few transmissions from other life pods—which has led you to explore the waters as you search for survivors.

The first lifepod you come across is Lifepod 3. They shared their coordinates through the radio, expressing the desire for someone to rescue them. Fortunately, their pod isn’t far from your own—and you swim over to the area with the guidance of your PDA, only to realize that Lifepod 3 is completely underwater. It rests innocuously on the edge of a small cliff. As you swim down, wary of the Stalkers that explore the waters nearby, you feel inexplicably apprehensive. It isn’t until you’re at the pod’s level that you discover the source of your apprehension. Lifepod 3 appears fine from above, but one side of the pod has been torn apart. There is no one inside—absolutely no sign that anyone even inhabited it, aside from the abandoned PDA resting on the ground and the metal scraps scattered throughout the sand. Needing air, you grab the PDA and swim up to the surface. Breathless, you tread water and look through the abandoned PDA, only to find a voice log from the two inhabitants. They were discussing a Seaglide—one of the forms of transport that you only have half of the blueprints for. There was a clear sense of fear in their voices, even as they evidently attempted to remain calm.

You don’t know how to handle this revelation: the utter absence of any survivors (or even their remains)… the giant hole in the Lifepod, as if it had been swiftly ripped apart by some large creature… You feel sick to your stomach. Somehow, you manage to make it back to your pod. Honestly, you don’t remember swimming back from Lifepod 3. The wreckage is burned into your mind’s eye. Every time you blink, you see the pod getting attacked by a Leviathan—a class of organism you recently learned about after seeing the Reefback Leviathan in all its massive glory. Thankfully, the Reefback Leviathan—a positively humongous creature reminiscent of a squid—only feeds on plankton. You have an awful feeling whatever attacked Lifepod 3 had a much more voracious appetite.

Against all odds, you manage to keep moving forward in the wake of what you saw. It certainly isn’t easy, and you’re sure that the feelings you’re compartmentalizing will come rushing back eventually. But you have no choice. Survival on this planet takes up nearly all of your energy. You don’t have time to think about all of the death and destruction. You can’t slow down, can’t stop even for a moment. Otherwise… you fear you’ll lose yourself in the tragedy of it all.

And just as you think things can’t get worse… they do. You’re forced to watch from afar as the Aurora experiences quantum detonation, sending the reactor into a critical state and releasing radiation into the nearby area. Soon you’re crafting a radiation suit and proceeding as if things are normal. According to your PDA, the radioactive fallout from the ship will have irreversible effects on the ecosystem. Even worse, there’s nothing you can do right now. You would need a hundred fire extinguishers to quench all of the flames on the ship. Not to mention, when you do attempt to get close to the Aurora, you’re intercepted by a Leviathan organism. You have no idea what it is—all you know is that it’s extremely long with four pincers, deep, soulless black eyes, and sharpened teeth. You just barely manage to escape the thing’s grasp by swimming along the surface of the water… but you take some damage in the process. The creature bites your arm before you can swim out of range. Even after you’re safely concealed in your pod, your heart is positively pounding out of your chest.

You’re beginning to find that you’re very lucky, for a variety of reasons: your pod’s landing at the surface, first of all; not to mention, you sustained minimal injuries in the crash. The other survivors weren’t nearly as fortunate, you slowly learn. With each new radio transmission, you adventure out to the depths and find another Lifepod utterly wrecked and torn apart. You have yet to find a single living person. Instead, you’re forced to chase after ghosts—scavenging the wreckage and collecting the abandoned PDAs.

At some point, you have to wonder: is any of this worth it? Is all of this effort really worth your survival? Moreover, why are you the one who has survived so long? What supernatural force decided that you get to live, while all of the other passengers you’re finding are banished to increasingly cruel fates? The survivor’s guilt you feel only increases with each empty Lifepod you find. The names begin to blur together. You can’t even count how many pods you’ve come across at this point—the thought is just too soul-crushing. And try as you might to avenge each person in your continued fight for survival… sometimes you just feel as if it’s all pointless and hopeless.

That guilt is only exacerbated by a rescue party’s arrival into the atmosphere. You reach a nearby island where they’re supposed to land, only for alien technology to attack the ship upon its entry into the atmosphere. You’re forced to watch once more as a ship of innocent people explodes before your very eyes.

Ultimately, you find yourself getting trapped in a never-ending routine. First, you find a clue that points to something that could help your chances at survival: a blueprint for some device or weapon, another Lifepod, a promise of rescue. Then, you investigate—only to realize that the device isn’t as useful as you thought, that the Lifepod is just a tattered shell, that rescue isn’t coming. Then grief wins. Eventually, something in you fights off the sadness and pushes you to keep going. You find hope in something new… and the brutal cycle continues.

Somewhere along the way, though, you start to lose the feeling of hope altogether. After all, there are only so many times you can hope for something that will never happen. It’s a devastating blow to your psyche to constantly have the promise of survival ripped away from you. To protect yourself, you stop hoping for the best and start expecting the worst. This leads you to become some sort of husk of your former self.

Even the prospect of a new island isn’t enough to trigger any positive feelings in you. You just feel… empty. The beautiful scenery doesn’t provoke any sentiment in you. You don’t feel anything as you trudge up the hill that almost appears to have a worn footpath. You don’t feel anything as you enter a base and find an empty desk, an indoor growth bed, and a fabricator. You don’t feel anything as you search through the abandoned PDA and listen to the voice logs of more people who likely died in the time since the recording.

Then a shadow passes across the floor at your feet, and the void of emotion in your chest is swiftly replaced with bone-deep fear. You tried to be cautious as you explored this island—looking around at the nearby wildlife to ensure there wasn’t anything that could hurt you. Was there an unseen predator lurking in the shadows? Your PDA did say that there were subtle signs of life here, but you had dismissed the message. Your heart thundering in your chest, you slowly turn around—only to find a shadowed figure in the doorway of the base.

You flinch hard, hitting the wall behind you as you instinctively backpedal. When the figure takes another step closer, you immediately brandish your survival knife and hold it up threateningly. In the first few days since the crash, you wouldn’t have seen a need for the survival knife past retrieving samples from coral and creepvines. However, it’s been a long time since then—and you aren’t so foolish as to think that this alien planet will welcome you with open arms. You don’t belong here and you never have. Each day in this world, in these crystal waters, is an act of defiance against the aliens that reside here and the creatures that roam the dark depths.

The figure takes another step forward and the light from the base illuminates their face, revealing… another human. The two of you stare at one another in shock and disbelief. The man stares at you, eyes roaming up your body before finally settling on your face. You scrutinize him in the same regard, taking note of his unruffled appearance. He’s wearing a dive suit just like yours, but his hair is perfectly coiffed—as if he hasn’t gone underwater in several days. His eyes are a warm brown, with flecks of crimson. There’s something in his expression that you can’t quite pin down—and it unsettles you enough to hold your knife out in an attempt to keep the distance between you. “Don’t come any closer,” you warn him.

PDA ALERT: Your vitals are rising past normal levels, despite your stationary position. Take caution and move to distance yourself from the stressor.

Curse your PDA and its unfortunate timing. The stranger only seems amused by the commentary, as he holds his hands up in mock-surrender before posing a question. “How did you get here?” He asks, eyes flitting about the base as if looking for signs of your forced entrance. It takes you a few moments to realize that he’s asking about your arrival to the island in general—not necessarily his base.

“I swam,” you respond sarcastically. Very little of your frustration is pointed at him, but venting about your situation to another living, breathing human takes some of the pressure off. You take a deep breath and try to summon some better manners. He’s the only human you’ve come across so far—and he may be the only one you ever find. You need to make a decent impression if you want to collaborate with him. “From my pod.” You explain.

“You landed in the ocean,” he states, his brows climbing up his face in evident disbelief.

“The flotation device was activated, so I landed on the surface.” You answer. You’re not sure why you’re telling him so much, especially when you don’t exactly have a reason to trust him yet. Of course, you want nothing more than to have another human to work with—but this is a matter of life and death. And hell, you haven’t met the aliens of this planet yet. Maybe they have shapeshifting abilities. The thought sounds rather ridiculous, you have to admit.

“Are you from the Aurora too?” The man questions, confirming your suspicions that he was stranded due to the ship’s crash—just like you.

“Yes,” you admit. Really, the crash is the only logical explanation for a human’s presence here on this planet.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the man continues, staring at you intently. He seems surprised that the two of you didn’t cross paths on the Aurora. But there were more than 150 people on it, after all. You tell him as much and he seems to accept that explanation. Although, secretly, you’re wondering the same thing.

The man’s gaze flits down to your knife, nonverbally questioning if you still need to be pointing the weapon at him. You shrug, not making a move to lower it. Instead, you gesture at him expectantly. “What’s your name?”

“Hannibal Lecter,” the man answers. Somehow, that name seems to fit him. “And yours?”

You tell him your name and he hums, staring at you as if trying to fit your face to your name. Eventually, you grow tired of his staring and continue walking through the base. Surprisingly, within a few moments, you hear Hannibal following behind you. You try to ignore him, but it grows increasingly more difficult.

“Might I ask what you’re looking for?” Hannibal asks calmly. At least, you think he’s trying to sound calm—but there’s an air of annoyance veiled within his tone. You continue surveying the space, looking for anything that could be useful. You’re not going to take anything from him—you just want to ensure that you’re gaining all of the necessary resources from this island.

“Anything, really,” you remember to respond, after you turn around and nearly crash into him. You quickly take a step back, beginning to suspect that Hannibal enjoys these small displays of intimidation. You really can’t be bothered by your own pride, so you decide to let him have them. “Is this your base? I saw others…” You trail off, crossing your arms over your chest. Something about this conversation is making you feel more vulnerable than normal. You attribute it to a lack of human contact.

“This one is mine,” Hannibal replies. You can sense he’s nearing the end of his patience, so you eye the door and plan to walk out of the base. Hannibal doesn’t move from his position in the doorway of the multipurpose room, forcing you to brush past him as you walk by. With your back turned to him, you roll your eyes and walk back outside.

But again, he’s following you. At first, you pretend that you don’t notice. But your patience is quickly worn thin, and you turn on your heel to level him with a wary glare. “Why are you following me?”

Hannibal remains silent, but somehow, you can sense what he’s thinking from the minute signs written across his form: the furrow of his brow, the pull of his lips.

“This isn’t your island,” you feel the need to assert. “None of this is yours. We’re not meant to be here—you should know that.” So stop following me around, you think to yourself. But even this harsh dismissal is not enough to dissuade Hannibal, as he instead smiles an infuriatingly patient smile and continues to follow behind you.

Eventually, you give up on trying to get him to go away—and the two of you manage to strike up a conversation (albeit an awkwardly stilted and tense one). You both recount your descents from the Aurora, your crash landings on this planet, and the ensuing efforts at survival. Hannibal had landed near the island that the two of you are standing on now, which provided him with a safe haven from the sea monsters that lurked nearby. You trade blueprints and stories with him, finding his presence to be comforting. It’s been so long since you’ve had someone to talk to. And even if Hannibal seems a little off for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint—even if he is kind of a smug bastard—he’s still someone to talk to. Plus, he seems to warm up to you once you’re done exploring the bases on the island. The two of you even catch a few fish and cook them up for dinner.

“You should stay,” he suggests after your shared meal, “It’s late.” His eyes flit to the water and you immediately understand what he’s trying to say. You don’t want to test the creatures that roam the night. You take a shuddering breath in, pushing past the inexplicable stab of fear that strikes at you, and decide to take him up on the offer. Hannibal seems strangely relieved after you agree, as if he was genuinely concerned that you wouldn’t survive the night. That’s an entirely fair concern to have, of course. You’re just surprised that he’s worried about you in the first place. You didn’t exactly get the impression that he liked you.

Since you decide that you’re spending the night, you create a simple outfit using the fabricator in his base and remove your dive suit. Despite its efficiency in the water, the suit is incredibly uncomfortable to sleep in. With that in mind, you’re quick to change into your new clothes: a simple tank top and sweatpants. Hannibal returns moments later, only to stare at you silently for several moments. Growing self-conscious, you ask him what’s wrong.

The man is still quiet. Then, suddenly, he lurches forwards—breaking the distance between you and looking you up and down. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, until you realize that he’s cataloging the scars littered across your arms. Hannibal seems to take particular interest in the bite mark on your shoulder—from the Leviathan creature that you later learned to be aptly named a Reaper.

“How did you get this?” He breathes, his hand coming to grasp your shoulder. You barely resist the urge to flinch. You’ve grown to forget casual human contact in the wake of the crash. Physical touch since then could only be categorized as harmful: fish biting at you with sharp teeth, serpentine creatures brushing past you…

“A Reaper Leviathan,” you respond after a second. His eyes are fixed on the mark with worrying intensity. “I was trying to get close to the ship.” At his silence, you continue. “...It’s kind of ugly, I know.” You grimace.

Hannibal’s thumb brushes along the mark and his eyes meet yours. “It’s beautiful,” he murmurs, before turning his attention to the scar once more. “A mark of your continued survival.” You’re not sure why he seems so fascinated by it. Maybe he hasn’t seen a Reaper before? You can’t be sure. You suppose you’re just fortunate that he didn’t seem disgusted by the scar.

“If you say so,” you choke out, lost for words. A prolonged silence settles over the space.

“I don’t have a spare bed, I apologize,” Hannibal then says, his eyes falling to the room down the hall. It must be his bedroom, you think. This notion is confirmed when he motions for you to follow after him, as he leads you into the room. It’s a fairly nondescript room, with a desk off to one side and a bed in the corner. You must’ve missed this room when you were exploring before.

“It’s fine,” you say, when you remember the conversation. “I can sleep on the floor.” That’s really the last thing you want to do, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Nonsense,” he says with a shake of his head. “You can sleep here.” He says, moving to sit on the right side of the bed and leaving the left half for you.

You stare at the space he’s left for you for a long moment. Eventually, your fatigue wins against your apprehension. “...Okay.” You acquiesce, moving to sit next to him and tugging the covers over you. For a moment, the air falls silent. As you’re closing your eyes, you’re struck with the urge to maintain some semblance of mundanity. “Goodnight.”

“Pleasant dreams.” He responds, his voice sounding weirdly thick. You’re not so deluded to think that the emotion in his voice is because of you. But, regardless, you think you understand the sentiment: the confirmation that you aren’t completely alone in this world is reassuring and overwhelming in equal measure.

Despite these thoughts and countless more musings, you manage to drift off in no time. When you open your eyes that morning, you find Hannibal staring at you. You freeze and stare at him back, unsure of what to do. After a moment, you inch backwards slightly and he lurches forward, his jaw suddenly snapping open to reveal rows of impossibly sharp teeth. You scramble backwards with a scream caught in your throat…

…and fall to the ground, jolting awake. Your mind still can’t tell the difference between the waking world and a nightmare, and you feel yourself backing up to the corner of the dark room—holding your hands in front of you in a futile attempt at protecting yourself. Your chest is rising and falling with frightening speed, making your vision blur around the edges. You blink and suddenly Hannibal is kneeling before you, slowly inching his way closer until he’s wrapping his arms around you. You desperately want to resist the gesture, but your pride and dignity went out the window the moment you crashed on this planet. Relenting, you tilt your head down and close your eyes; Hannibal’s hand comes to bracket the back of your head as he presses you to his chest. You’re clutching at him, desperate for the sole reminder of your humanity.

You’re not sure how long Hannibal remains on the floor with you. All you know is that, at some point, your back starts to hurt. You murmur that the two of you should probably get up, and Hannibal tentatively backs away and pushes himself up to his feet—before offering you a hand. After he pulls you up, the two of you head back to the bed. You’re briefly hit with embarrassment, but the feeling fades when Hannibal reassures you that it’s alright. You have no choice but to believe him as you close your eyes and fall asleep once more.

Despite the events of that first day, your time with Hannibal on the island is rather uneventful. You’re lured into a false sense of security by the lush plant life, the calm breeze flowing through the trees, the sparkling waters, and his glittering eyes. You start to think that maybe, just maybe, things will be alright. You find yourself spending more time on the island and less time at your pod (although you do return whenever you need resources)... But it isn’t all good. There’s still one glaring problem: you can’t sleep well.

You were sleeping just fine back on your pod and at your base, but here, you spend hours lying awake as Hannibal sleeps next to you. There’s something in you that just doesn’t want to let your guard down in front of him—some irrational part of you that sees him as another predator, just the same as the ones in the ocean. And at least those monsters are straightforward—they have sharp teeth, so you know to avoid them. But humans are entirely different. They’re all appearances. Hannibal looks non-threatening, but you just can’t shake away that initial wariness. It’s cruel of you to doubt him, after he went out of his way to comfort you that first night. But you can’t quite suppress your skepticism—especially considering it’s a survival mechanism that has gotten you this far.

Wariness, coupled with a restless energy, leads you to step out of his bedroom late one night. You don’t really have an endgame—you just want a breath of fresh air and a break from the shared darkness that always seems to be watching you. Outside, the air does feel nicer. A blanket of stars covers the sky and the waves gently lap at the shore. You rub a hand over your face, turning on your flashlight and navigating down the admittedly treacherous and unstable hillside. You’re not sure where you’re going; you just want to keep moving. Being stationary is dangerous on this planet. To survive, you have to be moving constantly—whether that’s swimming through the water or prioritizing the tools and devices you need to make with the fabricator. If you’re not making progress, then you’re convenient prey.

You soon find yourself near the main base of the island and, after a moment’s hesitation, you decide to explore the multi-purpose room. Back when you first arrived, Hannibal kept a very close eye on you as you investigated. With him breathing down your neck, it was hard to concentrate. Now that you’re alone, you find that you can really take everything in. As you look around, you remember the abandoned PDA you first found on the island, which contained a voice log from the Degasi Crash. The three survivors built the bases around the island (including the one you’re exploring right now). You weren’t able to glean anything else from the voice log, as it mainly contained recordings of the three of them bickering. You would’ve found that humorous in a different situation.

Regardless, that’s the extent of your knowledge regarding the island. But as you remember how Hannibal ushered you through the bases with puzzling rapidity, you have to wonder why he was so eager to get you out of them. Did he think you would stumble upon something incriminating? You contemplate the thought as you look around the space, eyes catching on an abandoned PDA near the far wall. You download the data and listen to the attached voice log, which only makes your heart thud against your ribs quickly.

[DATABANK]

Degasi Voice Log #5 - An Unwelcome Guest

PAUL: There was a new arrival to the island yesterday. He says his name is Hannibal Lecter.

BART: He says he came from the crash. He’s a little…

MARGUERIT: Suspicious. He’s very suspicious.

PAUL: Eccentric is probably a better word.

MARGUERIT: No, he seems dangerous.

BART: How do you know?

MARGUERIT: Trust me, kid.

BART: I’m not a fucking kid!

PAUL: Settle down, you two.

PAUL: We’ll take him in. He could have valuable information.

MARGUERIT: I don’t like this.

PAUL: Frankly, I don’t either. But we don’t have much of a choice, do we?

MARGUERIT: Are you fuckin’ kidding? Of course we have a choice! We can just march down there and take him on! Three on one, no way he’s winning.

PAUL: (sighs)

The transmission clicks off. You stare at the wall in front of you in disbelief, your stomach stewing with anxiety. That gut feeling that something was off… You think you know what it is now. After all, the voice log posits that Paul, Marguerit, and Bart were the first ones on the island. Hannibal arrived after them. That timing is extremely significant. Assuming the three didn’t leave the island, there is only one explanation: Hannibal did something to the three survivors. After all, you haven’t caught even a glimpse or trace of any of them in your time on the island.

Despite your misgivings, you decide to give Hannibal the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the three survivors went off on a sea expedition and encountered a Leviathan or a predator. That is certainly possible—although you think they would’ve mentioned a departure on the voice log if they truly planned to leave. You contemplate the thought as you explore the remainder of the main base. When you turn the corner into a new hall, your eyes catch on a murky crimson-brown stain splattered across the wall… and all of your excuses fade into obscurity. You’re forced to accept the truth: Hannibal killed the three survivors from the Degasi Crash. And judging by the utter lack of remains, he either buried them, threw their corpses into the ocean, or… ate them.

You contemplate running away—heading for your escape pod, taking your Seamoth and moving as fast as you can. But you know you won’t be able to escape Hannibal. The two of you have the same blueprints and nearly the same resources. He has a Seamoth too—and it wouldn't take him long to notice your absence. Plus, there are countless organisms throughout the seas that could kill you in the blink of an eye. The ocean isn’t exactly any safer than this island—and that’s truly a terrifying thought.

And there’s a notion that’s even more frightening: do you even want to escape him? Hannibal is the only other human you’ve come across in your time since the crash—and you’ve discovered countless pods scattered across the sea floor, in varying states of disarray. The chances of finding another survivor are astronomically low. You’re sure you would be able to get by on your own—you survived before him, and you can survive after him. But would that be good for you? There’s only so long a person can go without social interaction.

“What are you doing?” You nearly have an out-of-body experience at the sudden noise. Heart racing, you freeze in place and keep your back turned to Hannibal—attempting to hide the abandoned PDA you’re holding from his view. “It’s late.” He says.

You study the expression on his face and decide you’re too tired for mind games—too exhausted to attempt to conceal your knowledge from him. Perhaps that’s a stupid decision, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. If he kills you, he kills you. You don’t have much to lose—or live for—at this point. Knowing that, you turn around and meet his gaze head-on. “You killed them.” You say, your voice eerily calm. “Are you going to kill me too?”

Hannibal tilts his head curiously. Despite the fact that he’s blocking the doorway, he doesn’t seem to be holding any weapons. There is no outright violence in his posture—only defensiveness. “No,” he promises. There’s nothing but sincerity in his expression, but you still can’t trust it. Besides, he completely ignored your accusation—which is essentially a confirmation that he did murder the Degasi survivors who found this island before him.

“How can I trust you?” You decide to voice your thoughts.

His brows furrow. The muscles work in his jaw as he contemplates the question. “I find myself craving your companionship,” Hannibal eventually answers. Judging from the way he’s looking at you, he desires more than your companionship. But, in an alien world with no realistic promise of rescue, that’s the least of your concerns.

“And because of that, you won’t kill me?” You ask, not bothering to hide your doubt.

“I have only my word,” Hannibal says regretfully. He takes a few steps forwards, effectively breaking the distance between you. In the blink of an eye, he’s pressing a survival knife into your hand before pulling your hand—and the knife—to rest against his neck. “But, should I go back on it… you may end my life.”

You can feel Hannibal’s pulse—steady and unyielding, even when faced with the truth. His posture is open and honest; there is no trace of deception anywhere to be found. Somehow, that is just as frightening as his lies of omission. Your heart thunders in your chest as you come to terms with what he’s offering you. It’s not what you want. You don’t want to kill him. After managing to shake off his grip, you return your hand to your side and level him with a cautious look.

“I’m not going to kill you.” You say. Your voice sounds foreign. And your word is binding—you don’t plan to kill Hannibal (even if it would be karmic). You need him and he needs you: a symbiotic relationship like that of the Reefback Leviathan and the plants living on its back. The thought is distressing. You don’t want to have to rely on anyone else—don’t want to have to let down your mental defenses, only for your trust to be swiftly broken.

It would be extremely stupid of you to kill one another, and you both seem to know that. That recognition sinks into the air between you, clinging to your clothes and sending a prickling feeling across your limbs.

As if coming to an unspoken agreement, Hannibal nods and turns on his heel, evidently retreating back to his bedroom. Somehow, you can sense the intended meaning behind the gesture: he trusts you enough to let you explore on your own. You poke around the base for a bit longer, but at some point, you have to accept the inevitable and return to Hannibal’s bedroom.

When you return, you find Hannibal’s eyes are closed as he lets out calm breaths. Swallowing hard, you try to be as quiet as possible as you move to take the left side of the mattress. After a few moments dominated by indecision, you pull the covers over you and recline back against your pillow. Left to the rushing waves and your racing thoughts, the loneliness you’ve been fighting off suddenly comes rushing back, leaving you to feel terribly alone as you lie next to the only other human on the planet.

endnotes: Oh, you thought that being stranded on an alien planet meant you were safe from cliche tropes like sharing a bed? Mwahahhaha… never!!!

I know clothes aren’t a thing in Subnautica, but just let me have it… I just wanted unresolved tension and scars and intimacy… don’t look at me like that.

Sorry not sorry for the somewhat uncertain ending. I tried writing a happier one, but it just felt off. On the off chance that I do write another chapter (no promises), I wanted this to be realistic. I felt it wouldn’t be right if the reader just brushed off the fact that he killed three people. That’s a big deal! They need time to process that.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #can you tell im completely obsessed with Subnautica rn #I even talked about it at work #and I never talk about my interests at work #that's when you know it's bad #anyways #gn reader #male reader #transmasc reader #nb reader #subnautica x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #Hannibal Lecter x reader #hannibal x gn reader #hannibal x male reader #you get the idea

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indieyuugure · 10 months ago

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How do u draw your characters bc I want make a comic series just like you but my art teacher isn't teaching me shit so I was wondering

Should I do paper comic (doing it on paper)

Or digital (which might be a bit hard to step as I wouldn't have the stuff on hand)

Ps art style is fantastic 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

Lol, I’ll try to help the best I can!

Okay, so, I’m not exactly sure what you’re having trouble with specifically, so I’ll just try to keep it general.

For starters, drawing a person at all, typically I start with a sketch that looks something like one of these:

Notice the usage of circles as guides for the joints. I find that this helps me to understand where in 3D space the character’s elbow or knee or shoulder or wherever is and can also assist with proportions before the drawing is being finalized and would be a pain to fix/erase.

Not sure how helpful this is, but here’s showing how the drawing evolves as a sketch. The circles help to predict where things’ll be so when you go to draw a rough outline, you have a guide to help you.

I draw chests as usually a trapezoid-esk shape and the hips as triangles(however I recommend drawing it more like a heart when doing girls). The head is kept a circle or oval depending on the character’s face shape and things like hands and feet are basically just a mix of squares and triangles.

Something to keep in mind, is the lack of detail on basically everything. I know from experience how tempting it is to do the detail as you go, and it’s not a good habit to have. Always try to sketch everything in as little detail as possible.

Once you’re done with your sketch, though, you can go crazy!

Here’s the second picture I did with some details.

Unfortunately, I can’t really help you with detailing since this step starts incorporating your own art style, personal flourishes, clothing taste, even level of detailing, it’s really something you have to learn on your own.

But, GENERALLY, this is where you establish key characteristics like the face, anatomy, clothing, hair, etc. Aka make it pretty!

Again I’m not super sure where you’re struggling, so this is just a general how-to, though hopefully it was helpful!

As for what medium to do your comic on, I suggest doing it in whichever you’re the most comfortable in. If drawing on paper is better for you, sticking with it is perfectly fine. I will say though if you ever plan to post said comic on the internet, digital is a lot easier to upload on the internet. But as I said, which ever is most comfortable is probably best.

If you have anymore questions about this, feel free to message me, I’ll try my best to help you to the best of my ability!

Good questions! :]

#q&a #drawing #drawing tips #character design #art #art tips #drawing stuff

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turns-out-its-adhd · 1 year ago

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AI tools for the neurodivergent brain

As AI application starts to expand rapidly in it's uses and abilities, there is an understandable amount of scepticism and discussion about how it can negatively impact how our society develops.

On the flipside of this, I'd like to share a couple of AI tools which I've found incredibly useful. As someone with pretty severe executive disfunction, I've always dreamed about being able to have a personal assistant to help me out when I am struggling.

If you haven't already tried it out, take a look at goblin.tools

This AI tool helps me in so many ways. From finding the right words, assembling ingredients into a meal, checking how my tone comes across in a message, to breaking down overwhelming tasks into manageable steps.

I also really like mymind

It's like a pinterest board, bookmark manager and general braindump tool that has helped me organise all the different projects, ideas and general digital hoarding into one place - that I can actually search and find all the relevant things without agonising over file organisation and bookmark labelling.

If you have trouble with keeping a hundred pinned tabs on your browser like I do, this tool can actually really help letting go of the anxiety of losing those things without the fear you will never come back to it again.

As much as I share some of the trepidation about this powerful new tech and we should definitely keep questioning how it is being rolled out into every facet of our lives - it can also be a very real accessibility aid for neurodivergent folks.

No amount of notebooks, lists, alarms and calendar reminders comes close to how these have helped me with ADHD symptoms.

I'd hate for that to be overlooked in all the backlash against AI in general.

#adult adhd #neurodivergence #neurodiversity #adhd #autism #executive dysfunction #mental health #accessibility #ai #goblin tools #mymind #ai tools #ai technology

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decepticononline · 2 years ago

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IDW! Starscream x (Gender Neutral) Cybertronian Seeker Reader

Warnings: oral sex, riding, very light dom/sub, fluffy, size kink, hints of the reader being romantic with Thundercracker and Skywarp too, this is very gender neutral but the reader has a valve.

Summary: To Starscream you were the only one on cybertron who knew how to help him with his 'issues'.

The gentle sting of a clawed servo being placed on your backstrut made you turn around to see that Skywarp was behind you. The mech had a wicked grin on his faceplate and was holding up your datapad.

"Huh, looks like Screamer sent you a message on here. Are you ignoring your internal comms?"

You had to reach up to snatch your datapad back from the mech as he towered over you. Out of all Seekers within the faction, you were the smallest.

"Stay out of my personal belongings, you creature."

Skywarp simply purred and put his servos on his hip-struts. His glossa rolled out of his intake receptor and he wagged it at you provocatively. Your optics rolled in annoyance and you walked to another part of the base to comm your commander in privacy.

Since Starscream had reclaimed the throne of Cybertron he's been much busier now than he was as second in command of the Decepticon army. With him being busier meant he was much more stressed than normal.

This happened to put a strain on the already eccentric relationship you had with him. All the night cycles you've spent underneath him or one of his trinemates over the last few eons have clearly meant nothing to the mech if he neglected to give you the attention you felt you deserved.

Skywarp was too depraved and Thundercracker was too distant to give you the attention you sought. Your spark felt the strongest connection with Starscream, and if he wanted to be insolent about it then that was his loss.

"Finally, I need your assistance with an issue."

Starscream answered the comm sounding as if you hadn't just been ignoring him for the past couple of decacycles and that angered you.

"You only comm me when you need my assistance with your issues..."

"So that's what your problem is... No wonder you've been so infuriatingly annoying lately. Come by to see me and I'll make everything up to you."

With that, he ended the comm and you growled in annoyance, Starscream was unbelievable and unpredictable yet to him, you were completely predictable. He knew you'd come back to him one way or another.

So go back to him you did, just this time you weren't that easy, and you still had some dignity left. When you walked in he was sitting on his throne like normal, a golden Vosian crown upon his helm and a seeker high-rank soldier at either side of him.

With a simple servo gesture, both soldiers exited the room in sync with one another.

"How does it feel to be within my presence again now that your little failed mission of ignoring me is over?"

"Feels like I got kicked in the helm."

Starscream scoffed and gestured for you to get closer to him and you denied.

"Sorry, I won't be that easy."

"That fierceness is one of the many things I love and cherrish about you."

He always knew just what to say to make you submit. It was like a gift he had, saying things that made your spark flutter. You had to mentally slap yourself to not ask him if he really meant it.

Starscream gestured once more for you to approach him and this time you hesitated but obliged. You sat yourself down on him and he didn't waste any time leaning over to bring his dermas to yours.

You never felt this small with someone unless it was Starscream. It wasn't just his frame that was larger than yours, it was his confidence and willpower.

The kiss was gentle and you debated on giving him another. No one could deny how handsome this mech was. With his chisled features, bright red optics and sharp denta most failed to resist his advances.

"See something you like?"

"Always my Liege."

His wings fluttered behind him and you found yourself becoming fixated on them. They were so much bigger than your own and you couldn't help but slide your digits down the sides. You knew just what spots to touch from your previous nights of entanglement with him.

While you touched his wings, he touched yours. The touching of one's wings for seekers was completely intimate. Seeker wings were much more sensitive than the wings of regular fliers.

Starscream liked to have his wings rubbed, Skywarp liked to have his wings scratched, and Thundercracker liked to have his pulled. Your own wings fluttered and shifted to all of the touches Starscream gave them.

"It appears we're at the part where you tell me how much you need me."

He whispered into your audio receptors and that made your entire frame shiver. You got down onto your knee-plates and dragged your glossa along his armored interface panel.

You swirled circles around it and coated it with the fluids of your intake receptor. You even wrote his designation in Vosian along his panel with your glossa. As if you spoke the magic words to him, the mech let his panel slide off.

His spike sprang out and was already half pressurized and leaning to the side. You immediately wrapped your servos around his length and brought his tip to your dermas.

"You know I'd do anything for you my Liege. No matter how insufferable you may be..."

"Insufferable? As if that valve hasn't been slick with lubricant the moment you heard my voice through comms."

You ignored his comment and gave the tip of his spike a long lick and a groan emittited from his vocal receiver. You wrapped your dermas around his spike and took him into your intake, guiding him along the way until you hilted him in.

He put his servo on your helm and you felt his clawed digits sinking in.

"You're always so talented with that glossa aren't you?"

Your intake started to gag to signal that you desperately needed to vent and only then did he let go. You resumed to bobbing your helm up and down his shaft while he let a few slurs, curses and growls fall from his dermas.

He had this look in his optics that made you think he was getting ready to pin you down but you had other ideas. After sliding of your own interface panel to his surprise you got on top of him.

You've never taken control during interface before due to your size but as the saying goes there's a first time for everything. You lined your valve up with his spike and slowly slid down on it.

You welcomed him internally with the tight clenching of your walls and he moaned in delight. You bit down your dermas and offlined your optics when you began to slowly rock your hip-struts.

Out of all the mechs you've been with Starscream always filled you just right. It was like you two were meant for eachother, destined to be conjunxes.

The pace of the rise and fall of your hip-struts increased along with your pleasure. You'd never expected any cycle of your life to be full out riding the mech.

The way the tip of his spike was rubbing your walls internally made it feel like your protoform was tightening. The pure look of pleasure on his faceplate was gratifying to know it was you making him a wreck like this.

When his optics rolled back and his servos gripped around your hip-struts you picked up the speed. When you felt like you were getting ready to overload the mech stood up to hold you up by your hip-struts and that made you cling to his frame.

You looked down at the sudden drop from the height he was holding you and huffed.

"You think I'd drop you? Me of all people? Besides you're already holding me so tight that I don't believe you'd fall, and I don't mean with your servos."

He thrusted upwards into you while your leg-struts wrapped around either sides of him. Feeling him stretch you like this from this angled quickly ripped an overload from your systems.

The overload was brief but so intense it made your cooling fans stutter. Your valve gripped and clenched around him while drips of your lubricant leaked from around his spike and it made you mewl.

Looking into his optics like this was truly liberating. Having Starscream, ex-second in command of the Decepticon faction and now King of Cybertron pistoning into you at this angle completely made up for the lack of attention you received.

No mech had ever fragged you so passionately or efficiently as Starscream. Every experience with him was memorable for a lifetime. Your spark begged to be intertwined with his the more he touched you.

His wings began to flutter sporadically behind him and he bit down on his dermas when his overload breached. He made your ride out his overload with him by continuing to slam his hip-struts against yours.

His bright purple transfluid painted the spasming mesh walls of your valve. With how sensitive you were, you felt every spurt of his climax inside you. His optics were dimmed and his cooling fans were whirring loudly.

It caught you off guard when the mech began to leave a slew of kisses down your neck cabling. He was reluctant to remove his spike from you or put you down. The chamber to his spark slid open with a hiss and the bright blue orb made your optics widen.

"See I told you I'd make it up to you."

#transformers x reader #mtmte #transformers headcanon #transformers imagine #decepticons #valveplug #decepticons x reader #transformers smut #starscream #starscream x reader #skywarp #thundercracker #seeker trine

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thedensworld · 1 year ago

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Lover | Kim Mingyu

How you two get close

Lover Series🖤🌼

Pairing: Mingyu x reader (Joshua as non biological brother)

Genre: romance, angst, series

Note: sorry for late late update! Life has been busy lately 🤏

_____________________________________

Mingyu: Hyung, is it okay if I call your sister? I think I'm lost.

Anxiety crept over Mingyu as he awaited Joshua's reply to his text. His brows furrowed as he contemplated the situation. He wasn't naive; he had a keen sense of direction, and his ability to read maps had guided him through many places. However, this time, he found himself on an endless road, far from his intended destination – the hotel. He had been walking for nearly an hour, his patience wearing thin as he continued his fruitless search for the elusive lodging. Mingyu began to suspect a glitch in his map or GPS system, which had led him astray and now left him stranded in unfamiliar territory.

Shua: Totally fine.

Shua: But how on earth did you manage to get lost? Lol.

Mingyu: ikr :(

Mingyu: I'll call you later.

Mingyu's fingers tapped impatiently on his phone screen as he dialed Joshua's sister. The first two attempts went unanswered, leaving him to wrestle with mounting frustration. "Kim Mingyu, calm down," he muttered under his breath, willing himself to remain composed. On the third attempt, he was met with the sound of ringing before a voice answered on the other end. A polite greeting in Korean flowed from the speaker. Mingyu, momentarily taken aback, realized he was still using his Korean phone number, which explained the language preference.

"Hello," he replied, his voice laced with a touch of nerves. "I'm Mingyu, a member of Joshua's group."

There was a brief pause, followed by the woman's response, "Ah, is there something I can assist you with?" Collecting his thoughts, Mingyu explained his predicament to her, relieved as she comprehended his situation.

"It's not uncommon. Could you please share your location? I'd be happy to pick you up by car."

Gratefulness surged within Mingyu, and he quickly messaged his location via KakaoTalk. Exhaustion had overridden any resistance to her kindness; he waited in front of a shuttered shop, the clock edging towards 11 pm. Paris at night had a wild energy, evident in the unsteady steps of inebriated passersby. Though anxiety gnawed at him, Mingyu focused on projecting an image of calm indifference to the boisterous crowd. Yet, truth be told, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a drunk passerby carelessly kicked a steel garbage can.

After fifteen tense minutes, the approach of a car interrupted his thoughts. A call from Joshua's sister confirmed that this was her vehicle. "Hello, I'm near the shop you mentioned," Mingyu greeted, waving in the direction of the approaching car.

"Ah, there you are," she responded as the vehicle came to a halt. Mingyu's smile betrayed the relief coursing through him, the promise of a comfortable bed and a rejuvenating shower spurring him on.

The car's window rolled down, revealing a familiar face. "Oh, we met yesterday."

Once he was cleaned up, Mingyu took it upon himself to find your Instagram account. The brief drive back hadn't dulled his sense of gratitude, prompting him to offer you a late-night drink in appreciation. With a looming trip to Alsace on the horizon, the chance of another encounter with you was slim, hence his motivation was to make the most of the present moment. The hotel bar became a haven for conversation for both of you, Joshua and vacation plans becoming the backdrop to a more personal exchange. Mingyu soon noticed the dynamic of the conversation; you were an attentive listener, sharing very little about yourself.

This intrigued him, and he couldn't help but wonder about the enigma before him. He realized he knew little – your name, the duration of your residence in Paris, and your non-biological relationship with Joshua. That's it.

Settling onto the bed, Mingyu embarked on a digital search, scrolling through profiles of people with your name. A chuckle escaped him as he stumbled upon an account named after a fruit that also linked to your primary account, illuminating a glimpse into your life.

"Wow," he muttered, momentarily absorbed in his findings. Your identity as an editor at a prominent fashion magazine unfolded before him. Two contrasting personas emerged – one account spotlighted your professional accomplishments, the other a canvas for your private world, adorned with friends, aesthetics, and even a snapshot of you with Joshua's mother. Mingyu couldn't help but acknowledge that the evidence supported your relation to Joshua.

A sudden realization jolted him, prompting him to call his Shua Hyung.

"Hyung," he whined, seeking solace in Joshua's familiar voice.

"What's up? Have you made it to the hotel?" Mingyu hummed in affirmation, narrating the events of the day, including his unfortunate tardiness for the lunch reservation you had recommended.

"So, you met y/n in Paris before you even reached out to her? That's incredible," Joshua marveled. Mingyu's curiosity then led him to inquire about whether any other members had encountered you.

Joshua recollected how you had crossed paths with Seungcheol and Jeonghan during a visit to his apartment, revealing the varying levels of familiarity among them. "They were at my place when she showed up. Jeonghan probably knew about her from my conversations, but Seungcheol was taken aback – I still remember the surprise on his face that night."

Mingyu chimed in, sharing his experience of an hour-long chat with you at the hotel bar. "She was an amazing companion, a great listener," he noted, receiving a nod of agreement from Joshua. As the conversation flowed, Mingyu's musings shifted to the possibility of fostering a friendship with you.

"If I ask her to be a friend, she won't turn me down, right?"

Me: Have you arrived in Alsace?

Mingyu: Just touched down a few minutes ago. The vibe here is entirely different.

Mingyu: The scenery, the people, even the scent in the air.

Me: Isn't it fascinating? You must visit the spot I recommended, it's close to the station.

Me: The famed apple tart is eagerly awaiting your arrival...

Mingyu: I'm hoping they'll let me in with these suitcases.

Mingyu: /sent a photo showcasing his two pieces of luggage

Mingyu: I sent one ahead yesterday, by the way.

Me: Seems like you're all set for some Alsace-inspired OOTDs.

Me: And don't forget to pick up some basic language skills!

Mingyu: Language learning is no joke! I should've brought you along to help.

Mingyu: By the way, your photography skills were on point that day.

Me: Apologies, but my schedule's packed. Gotta run!

Mingyu: Take care and catch you later!

#mingyu imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagine #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu #mingyu au #mingyu fluff #mingyu recs #mingyu #kim mingyu imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic

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writeforfandoms · 1 year ago

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Welcome to New York 4

Find the series masterlist

Here we are, folks. The official introduction to the larger Spider Society! Things won’t go badly.

Yet.

Warning: Swearing, shock and awe, I think Lyla is awesome so now you do too, Miguel is still Mr. Grumpypants.

Word count: 2.5k

You’d kind of figured you were off the hook by now. You hadn’t seen Spiderman since he’d threatened you (although you’d caught glimpses of other Spider-people). You had stopped investigating, as you were told.

You’d given up your primary hobby. Which sucked. But you liked not vanishing.

And you figured something else would catch your attention. Eventually.

You did not expect to hear your window slide open nearly a month after your last meeting with Spiderman. You froze, in the middle of putting together a little snack, and then grabbed a knife before turning to look.

Spiderman in your living room was no less intimidating, standing taller than life. Even though you knew he was real, had been close enough to feel the heat of him.

You swallowed hard and very pointedly put the knife back away.

“Good choice.” He didn’t move towards you, letting you approach him. Which you did. Slowly.

“I haven’t done anything.” You eyed him, a little more emotionally prepared this time. Not to say you weren’t nervous - your heart was attempting to gallop out of your chest.

“No. You haven’t.” And he sounded somehow displeased about that. Like he wouldn’t mind having an excuse to throw you into some dark cell somewhere.

You licked your lips, shifting your weight, gaze darting around the room. But there were no hints, no clues. Just Spiderman standing, arms at his sides, calm as anything, in the light of your living room. Which did give you a practically unprecedented chance to study the design of his suit. “Okay. Well. Uh. Why are you here?”

He was quiet for a few more moments, a few of the longest of your life. Then he sighed softly, so softly you almost didn’t hear, and lifted his hands. A few taps on the device strapped to his wrist, and he pulled up a document. A flick of his fingers sent the document to your pad, which chimed softly at the incoming message. You hurried to open it, scanning through the first paragraph.

Everything screeched to a halt.

“What…?” You went back and read it more carefully. There was your legal name, and “offer of employment”, and a sum of money greater than any other job you’d had. You lifted your gaze slowly from the glowing document to Spiderman. “I don’t understand.”

“The work you put in on your research was solid,” he admitted, sounding like it physically pained him to admit as much. “Some of my colleagues think it’s a good idea to bring you on board to help with some… organizational needs.”

Meaning he didn’t think so. Somehow, you were both hurt and not surprised. You dropped your gaze to the contract again, hiding behind it.

“So you’re offering me a job.”

He muttered something that sounded like a curse. “Yes. Read through it. You’ve got until Friday to decide. Meet me at 7pm, same building you poked around in.”

“Okay,” you agreed almost mindlessly, brain still rebooting from the sheer shock of it all. “Friday at 7.” You looked up to thank him.

But he was gone.

You breathed out slowly. Well. He was a bit of a dramatic one. Did that come with the territory of being a Spider-person, or was it just him?

Shaking your head, you finally actually sat on the couch, settling in to read through the contract. It sounded… good. Too good, really. On property medical. Higher salary. Negotiable time off.

Honestly, it made you suspicious. A job offer, out of the blue, tempting enough to be hard to resist? Yup. You were suspicious now.

“The fuck is this about,” you muttered, reading through the job duties again. Which were not actually that helpful. Organizing and filing, both digital and physical. Retrieval of data upon request. Assisting with research. Sounded a bit like a librarian position, but you honestly had no idea how they could need a librarian.

You made a few notes, highlighted a few things, and then shoved it aside so you could actually sleep. Or at least try.

Of course, you couldn’t really leave it alone all week.

It could be some kind of trap, part of you argued. A very elaborate one.

But totally unnecessary, the less paranoid and more logical part of you pointed out. He could have just hauled you off if he wanted to. You knew he was strong enough.

Which meant it was probably an actual, legitimate job offer.

And that? Just the possibility of that got you excited and a little jittery.

You might have arrived fifteen minutes early on Friday. You weren’t sure if you were meant to meet him down on the ground floor or the floor where you’d met Mayday and her dad. Going on a hunch, you went up to that floor.

The view from up here was still beautiful, with lots of green around. Up here, the buildings weren’t so close together, letting evening sunlight through. Which was almost certainly how they maintained the green spaces. You weren’t so high up that you were quite above the traffic, not here, but you could see where the rest of the building was.

Actually, this building was kind of ridiculously tall. Much, much taller than all the surrounding buildings, for sure.

“Who even needs that many floors?” you mumbled to yourself, bracing your hands against the railing to look up.

“We do.”

You jumped, whipping around to stare at Spiderman. He hadn’t quite joined you outside, standing in the doorway so the shadow of the building kept him half-hidden, the red on his suit almost startling.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack,” you accused, pressing one hand to your chest.

He didn’t apologize, watching you. At least, you assumed he was, as his mask was on. As always. “What’s your decision?”

You breathed in slowly, trying to calm your heartbeat. “I accept.”

He nodded once, short and sharp. “Be here on Monday, then.”

“I need to give my previous job a bit of warning,” you protested, frowning. “I can’t just vanish on them.”

“You’re a security risk,” he ground out. “Either you start immediately, or this all goes away.”

You huffed. Well. He was not doing great on improving your opinion of him. Then again, he clearly wasn’t trying. “Alright, fine.”

“Smart choice.” He straightened a little.

“I do have some questions.”

He waved you off. “Monday. Be here early.” He took a step back, melding into the darkness of the building.

And then he was gone, leaving you alone on the balcony.

You spent a few more minutes up there thinking over the interaction before you left. You picked up dinner on the way home and then settled in for the weekend.

Honestly, you had no idea what to expect Monday morning. The bottom part of the building, the part you had access to, was bustling with business people. It looked like businesses rented out the office spaces. Which was a smart way for the Spider-people to generate money, honestly.

Nobody even gave you a second look as you took the elevator up to the top floor you could get to. You found an out of the way spot to sit and wait, humming a bit to yourself. This part of the hallway was quiet, office doors closed and only the occasional person walking past.

So when someone called your name, you looked up, a little surprised. A beautiful black woman stood in front of you, hand on her hip. But she looked… different, somehow. You blinked twice, tipping your head a little.

“That’s me,” you said, standing and smiling.

“Come with me.” She turned and started walking. You hurried a bit to catch up.

“Are we going upstairs?” You couldn’t help it if you sounded a bit hopeful, and maybe a tiny bit apprehensive.

Her lips quirked in a smile. “Yup,” she agreed, one hand resting over her belly, and you couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “I’m gonna be giving you the welcome tour today.”

An elevator opened in the very back, one you hadn’t noticed before. Your eyebrows shot up your forehead and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Feels a bit like an old spy movie,” you murmured, stepping in after her.

“Here, wear this. You’ll need it to get access to the different parts of the building.” She held out a slim bracelet-thing, which you examined for a moment before you slipped it on. It looked like the one she wore, but slimmer.

“Is that what yours does as well?”

She chuckled. “Mine does a bit more than that,” she admitted, even as the elevator suddenly brightened, glass between you and the rest of Nueva York. You looked out at the view with wide eyes.

“Oh wow. Do you ever get used to this?”

She paused, tipping her head a little as she followed your gaze. “I don’t have much time for sightseeing.”

You hummed, turning back away from the glass when you heard a door open.

“Welcome to Spider Society.” She shot you a smile, amused at your reaction. Your eyes had gone very wide and you were trying to look everywhere all at once.

There were Spider-people literally everywhere. Everywhere. Upside-down on the ceiling, standing horizontally on the walls, walking ahead of you and your guide. All heights, all sizes. Pretty much all of them were in costume, so many variations on red and blue that you were nearly dizzy with it.

“Wow.” You turned in a slow circle, managing to not stumble over your own feet, overwhelmed. This space was huge and open, with criss-crossing support beams and walkways.

“This way.” She had paused to look back at you, and you hurried to catch up.

“And this is just the entry way, huh?” You grinned, sticking closer to her while still looking around.

“Uh huh.” She nodded to a couple passing Spiders. “There’s a cafeteria just up here, you’re welcome to come eat here.”

“Awesome.” You made sure to make note of the turn to get to the cafeteria, taking a quick look around. A whole variety of Spider-people, mostly with coffee and pastries at this time of the morning. Very cool.

“You don’t need to worry about most of the rest of this place.” She went down another hallway and to another elevator. “You’ll be working in the archives.”

“Physical or digital?”

“Mostly digital.” The elevator went down a few floors and she led the way into the space. This entire floor seemed to be the archives, cool air blowing across your skin. (Note to self: bring a sweater.)

“Wow.” You looked at the sheer volume of computers in the room. “I’m guessing this is for your whole… base of operations.”

“Uh huh.” She took a step back. “Lyla, say hi.”

A little glowing golden person appeared at about eye-level, coat draped dramatically over her shoulders. “Hi! I’m Lyla, the best and most important part of HQ.”

“Hi.” You blinked. “Are you an AI?”

“Mmhm! The one and only.”

“Oh wow, I’ve never actually seen an AI. Met? What even is the correct terminology?”

“Either way, just depends on how friendly you want to be.” Lyla grinned at you. “I’ll show you where to get started!”

“Thanks for the tour,” you said to the woman, turning to give her a little smile and slightly awkward wave.

“Sure thing. Name’s Jess, by the way. In case you need to find me later.” She nodded once more to you and sauntered out of the room.

“Okay. Little overwhelmed.” You turned a slow circle, taking in the room. It had that unused feeling - there was no dust, but it felt like nobody came here often.

“That’s pretty normal,” Lyla agreed, filing her nails. “Takes most of the Spiders a bit of time to calm down.”

“Fair.” You breathed in deep. Okay. You were here to do a job, not to freak out. “Right. What are we looking at?”

Screens popped up, dozens of them. Hundreds possibly. Your eyes went wide in despair.

“Some of it has been done,” Lyla told you, standing near your shoulder to look out at the sea of gently-glowing orange-ish screens. “But we just kinda threw it together back at the beginning, before we knew there would be this many.”

You sucked in another deep breath. Okay. Yeah, this would be a lot of work, but you could do it. “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got so far.”

The first day was not quite a wash, but you did spend the entire time learning the original tagging system and deciding how best to move forward. This wasn’t exactly something you were trained in, but, well… You could organize things. You liked to. You even liked to keep track of data.

So it wasn’t a hardship. It wasn’t even necessarily hard. Just time consuming.

Nobody kicked you out, but you still finished up and left the room. Taking the elevator back up was a little odd, and Spider Society seemed to be even busier now. You had to do a quick side-step to avoid someone swinging past you.

“Incredible,” you murmured, taking a few moments to just look.

“It is, huh?”

You jumped a little and turned to look at the man in the pink bathrobe. “Oh! Hi again.”

“Hi.” He grinned at you, tired but happy.

“Where’s Mayday?” You motioned to the empty baby carrier.

“Hobie’s got her for a few minutes. I wanted to check in and see how your first day was.”

You shrugged. “Fine. Quiet. It’s gonna take some time to get everything updated and sorted properly, but I can do it.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He smiled at you, clapping a hand to your shoulder. “Who gave you the tour this morning?”

“Uh, Jess showed me around a little bit?”

“I bet she didn’t show you any of the fun stuff, though.”

“Define fun stuff.” You spoke a little cautiously, eyeing him.

“She definitely didn’t show you the fun stuff.” He grinned. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter B. Parker. There are a lot of Peters around, so be aware.”

“Really?” You looked at him curiously even as he gently herded you along.

“Oh yeah. I forget what percentage it is, but it’s a high percentage of Spiders are Peter, or some derivation.”

“Interesting.” You shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll learn all about that sooner or later.”

“I bet you will.” He shot you a friendly grin before he sat you in front of a counter. “Now, you have got to try this shake. I don’t even know what’s in it, but it’s amazing.”

“Um.” You blinked at him, not quite sure where this was going. Food, apparently.

But you were admittedly distracted when you spotted your universe’s Spiderman walking through the cafeteria. His mask was off, leaving you blinking at thick dark hair. Brown-red eyes met yours across the room and you froze.

He looked away first, turning and walking in a different direction. You breathed in again.

You’d had no idea he was such a handsome jerk.

“Oh, Miguel?” Peter chuckled, patting your shoulder and jerking your attention back to him. “Don’t worry about my friend! He’s all bark and no bite.”

Somehow you doubted that.

#welcome to new york #miguel o'hara x reader #f!reader

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artsygirl0315 · 8 months ago

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Someone needs to stop me from making OCS, I do this to myself and I aM LOSING I—

Albert Intellene or "AI"

'An artificially intelligent robot made by Sector PHP but the design and blueprints were initially made by Armando when he was younger before starting his family business, Mella just happened to stumble upon it when cleaning up the attic.'

-They started working on Albert after their cadet training and kept him from the KND before eventually letting the current Supreme Leader know and letting them keep him as long as he assists them and not help adults.

-Albert was kept in the Burnham Household whenever they don't stay in the treehouse and Albert just happened to become attached to the home if anything, Both Jeremiah and Mella work on him to update his programming and remake his design to his pleasing every once in a while.

-He's very sassy and will not hesitate to stand his ground, Something you won't usually see in any artificial technology. He has his own personality and his own attachments with the sector, He's more close with Sector PHP due to either his program or how he just got used to them overtime.

-Albert's personality consists of being intelligent, charismatic, teasing, brassy and very playful. He's like the fun uncle you'd meet every week who has juicy gossips and always has a helping hand for any child. Typically what a parent's younger sibling would be like.

-Albert is sort of protective when it comes to children, he's aware that they are more than capable of handling the situation but still get that overwhelming feeling of at least being at assistance for them. He helps around Sector PHP as being a 'babysitter' for them but really is the main computer system of their whole treehouse.

-His robotic design can hide his gears underneath his suit, he can shift and unhinge some screws to pull out some mechanical parts like a computer screen, metal hands or tools. He is technically made out of a strong kind of metal but it's very malleable.

-He serves to assist Sector PHP with missions and what Moonbase sends as their missions or any message from different sectors of the KND. He organizes their digital files and lets them know whenever they need to send out some new materials or data to transfer.

#knd #codename kids next door #codename knd #knd oc #original character #oc #robot oc #drawing #art #kids next door

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pedanther · 9 months ago

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There's a poll going around asking the question, "Do you prefer writing on paper or a device, and if so, which device?"

The best device I ever had for writing was a PDA equipped with an input system called Quikwriting.

If you're not old enough to remember the days before smartphones, back then mobile phones only did the basic phone stuff like calling and text messages, and if you wanted to do other things, playing games and reading ebooks and writing and getting travel directions and so on, you had to carry around a second device to do those on. This device was called a personal digital assistant, or PDA.

And nobody had yet invented a tiny little keyboard that worked well for a majority of people, so there were a variety of other input systems available. Most PDAs came with a stylus that you could use to draw on the screen, so some input systems used that. Some claimed to let you write on the screen in your normal handwriting and it would be converted to text (and they even got it right most of the time); some got you to write in their own adapted alphabet where each letter form was simplified and made more distinct from other similar letters. And some abandoned the alphabet entirely.

My favourite of the input methods I tried was Quikwriting, in which you wrote by making little loops with the stylus in the corner of the screen. Each loop began and ended within a central zone, and the size and direction of the loop indicated the character. If the stylus had left a trail while you were writing, it might have looked something like this:

...except that the words would all be written on top of each other without lifting the stylus. (And of course you'd write the loop that meant a space between each word, and the loop that meant a full stop at the end.) It took a while to memorise what the motion for each character was, but once you had it down you could write whole words, sentences, paragraphs in one long swoop.

It's the only input system I've ever used where I could write long passages as fast as I thought them, without having to keep an eye on the text to make sure that what I'd written was what I meant to write. And maybe, who knows, the fact that the physical motion resembled just doodling in a margin was also part of the appeal.

These days I have an Android smartphone with a tiny little keyboard that's okay for writing short messages and only occasionally tries to change what I've written into what it thinks I meant, but I don't use it to write anything of any significant length. As far as I know, nobody's ever made a proper implementation of Quikwriting for Android, and I suspect it wouldn't be the same using a finger instead of a stylus.

But maybe I'll go and look again, just in case...

#quikwriting #not a reblog #undescribed images

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mariacallous · 1 month ago

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WASHINGTON (AP) — The Kremlin could not have asked for better publicity at a better time when Ben Swann, a self-described independent journalist who promotes conspiracy theories, released a 12-part video series he promised would reveal dark truths about Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy.

Swann’s flashy documentary-style videos were filled with innuendo, attacks on Zelenskyy’s character and commentary from guests sympathetic to Russia in its two-year war with Ukraine.

The series, titled “Zelenskyy Unmasked,” launched in April as Congress was debating increasing military assistance to Ukraine, and it quickly caught the attention of conservative social media influencers who hyped the project to their millions of followers.

Among those who promoted the series was Donald Trump Jr., the former president’s eldest son.

“Curious about the billions of dollars and weapons Congress sent Ukraine?” Trump Jr. posted on X, Truth Social and Threads. “You need to watch the first episode of the explosive 12-part series.”

Unlike other conservative media personalities who last month expressed shock upon learning they may have been secretly financed by the Kremlin, Swann has no such qualms. He’s worked for Russia’s state-owned media empire for years, with one of his companies earning millions of dollars for producing Kremlin-friendly shows.

The creation of “Zelenskyy Unmasked” and its viral spread reveal how widely Russia-backed talking points are traveling on social media — a trend that concerns current and former U.S. intelligence officials and disinformation experts.

An investigation by The Associated Press also provides insights into the shadowy and profitable world of political influencers who are not required to disclose who is paying them, raising transparency concerns about their political endorsements in the largely unregulated realm of social media.

Swann brought on a digital marketing firm to publicize “Zelenskyy Unmasked,” and at least one creator acknowledged he was paid to promote the series.

Dire warnings

The revelations about Swann’s work for Russia come as U.S. authorities have issued increasingly dire warnings about the threat posed by Russian disinformation campaigns. In addition to undermining Ukraine, the Kremlin is seeking to disrupt the presidential election and sow discord in the U.S. and elsewhere in the West, those officials have said.

U.S. officials are particularly concerned about Russia’s covert efforts to take advantage of unwitting Americans to spread Moscow’s message and use artificial intelligence to quickly tailor false content.

Russia’s influence operation also appears aimed at boosting support for GOP presidential candidate Donald Trump, who has criticized Ukraine and praised Russian President Vladimir Putin, the officials said.

Trump has dismissed evidence of Russian influence operations, and he and many of his supporters have mocked the broader U.S. government’s effort to highlight Kremlin propaganda efforts.

Registered with the DOJ

Swann filed paperwork with the Justice Department two years ago to register one of his companies as working for Russian state media. In an interview with the AP, Swann said he has kept his work for Russian interests separate from what he produces for U.S. audiences. He has done this, Swann said, by operating two companies — one that generates content for Russian media and another that produces independent journalism, like “Zelenskyy Unmasked,” for U.S. audiences.

“The only connection is that I own both companies,” Swann said.

The AP, however, found that there was some overlap in how the two entities operated.

A handful of guests on “Zelenskyy Unmasked” also appeared on RT shows produced by Swann, according to a review of RT’s video archives and records filed with the Justice Department.

Swann’s shows for U.S. audiences and RT also have similar themes. The Zelenskyy series, for example, echoed Russian state media’s messaging that the Ukrainian president is a would-be autocrat who has duped the West into supporting a conflict that Russia will inevitably win.

A former TV anchor

Swann, 46, was a longtime TV journalist before he was fired from an Atlanta station in 2018 after promoting the debunked “Pizzagate” conspiracy that alleged Democrats were abducting children to serve as sex slaves.

He has since become a social media star who portrays himself as someone daring to ask uncomfortable questions on tough topics — revolving around unfounded claims such as whether the Sandy Hook school shooter acted alone, the coronavirus vaccine was a money-making ploy by big pharmaceutical companies, and Israel was a ”participant” in the massacre of Oct. 7, 2023.

Swann joined Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s anti-vaccine organization, Children’s Health Defense, in a lawsuit pending against several news organizations, including the AP, accusing them of violating antitrust laws by taking action to identify misinformation, including about COVID-19 and COVID-19 vaccines.

Swann said he worked as a correspondent for RT America, a cable channel that was part of a Russian state media outlet, until it went off the air following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. RT officials then asked if he wanted to produce shows for the network to air outside the U.S., Swann said.

“I said, ‘Well, I can’t produce shows for the United States, but if these shows are for overseas, I’ll help you produce them.’ So I started doing that for them, and we’ve been doing that ever since,” Swann said in a July interview.

Producing RT shows

Swann said he produced 10 shows a week using RT America’s old studios in Washington, and he stressed that those shows don’t air in the U.S. or Western Europe, although they are visible across the globe on RT’s website.

Under the Foreign Agents Registration Act, individuals must register with the Justice Department when they seek to influence U.S. policy and public opinion on behalf of foreign governments. Not doing so can result in criminal charges.

Swann’s company, Rebel Media Productions, first registered with the Justice Department in August 2022, saying it worked for RT’s parent company and related entities. The disclosures show Rebel Media Productions was paid more than $6 million in less than two years by RT-related entities.

RT, formerly known as Russia Today, is a major player in Russia’s sprawling propaganda apparatus, and a target of U.S. efforts to block Moscow’s covert influence.

The Justice Department has said RT has links to Russian intelligence agencies, while the U.S. State Department recently unveiled new sanctions on Russian state media. The sanctions target RT’s parent organization, TV Novosti, which Swann contracted with for his Russia-related work.

In February, Swann stopped reporting Rebel Media’s work for Russia to the Justice Department, even as his company kept producing RT shows.

Swann said he ended that registration with the Justice Department because his attorneys told him it wasn’t necessary, despite his company’s continued work for RT. “They said, ‘Why are you making things more difficult for yourself?’” Swann said.

In response to the recent sanctions, Swann said his company last month severed all ties to RT.

“While we disagree with the censorship of our journalists, who were doing quality work on behalf of our client, we have and will continue to respect the rule of law,” Swann said in a statement.

The Justice Department declined to comment.

‘Assume they don’t like Zelenskyy’

Swann said he creates content — like the “Zelenskyy Unmasked” series — for American viewers through another company, Truth in Media.

Truth in Media, Swann said, isn’t profitable and is funded by wealthy U.S. individuals whom he refused to name. “Most of them own very large companies,” he said, “if not publicly traded companies.”

Swann said the large payouts he received from Russian state media had not influenced his work on “Zelenskyy Unmasked,” but he acknowledged Russia’s leaders probably liked the series’ tough take on Ukraine’s president.

“I don’t know, I assume they don’t like Zelenskyy,” Swann said.

Many of the guests interviewed in “Zelenskyy Unmasked” have been RT contributors and guests on its programs.

That includes RT contributor Tara Reade, who briefly moved to Moscow after accusing President Joe Biden of assaulting her in the 1990s; former Ukrainian diplomat Andrii Telizhenko, who was sanctioned by the U.S. Treasury on allegations he had close ties to a “Russia-linked foreign influence network”; and Russell Bentley, an American citizen known to have fought with Kremlin-backed separatists and worked for Russian state media, who died earlier this year in Ukraine.

Another guest who has appeared on RT shows and in the Zelenskyy videos is Scott Ritter, a former U.N. weapons inspector sympathetic to Russia whose upstate New York home was raided in August by the FBI. Ritter told the AP that FBI agents in their questioning made clear that they were investigating his Russia-related work but did not ask specifically about his work with Swann.

Ritter provided the AP with a copy of an email he said was from a booking producer for Swann’s RT shows asking him to appear in the Zelenskyy series.

Ritter said an email invitation he received to participate in “Zelenskyy Unmasked” indicated that its executive producer was Sean Stone, who hosted an RT show and is the son of the filmmaker Oliver Stone.

Sean Stone did not respond to requests for comment, and Swann did not respond to a question about Stone’s involvement on the series.

Swann said his RT-linked company had passed along guest contact details to his business producing “Zelenskyy Unmasked.”

The two entities did not share staff, he said.

An ‘explosive’ series

Truth in Media began teasing the “Zelenskyy Unmasked” videos earlier this year on its website, writing the “explosive” 12-part series would answer “who is really benefitting from the $100 billion the U.S. has sent Ukraine.”

At that time, hard-right congressional Republicans were fighting a proposal to send more money and weapons to Ukraine.

House Intelligence Committee Chairman Rep. Mike Turner and House Foreign Affairs Committee Chairman Michael McCaul, both Republicans, said some GOP lawmakers had been heavily influenced by Russian talking points.

Turner said on CNN that some of those talking points were being “uttered on the House floor.”

To promote “Zelenskyy Unmasked,” Swann said he paid for advertising on social media but believes the series received its most substantial boost in viewership thanks to promotion from conservative influencers. Swann’s videos that were embedded in X posts garnered tens of millions of views.

“When you have different influencers that you can send it directly to, who can watch it for themselves, decide if they like it, and then share it, that’s a pretty powerful tool,” Swann said. “That’s more powerful than the actual marketing of it on Meta or X.”

With the assistance of the tech firm Bright Data, the AP identified a core group of influencers who played a significant role in helping promote the series. Posts by those influencers were shared by at least 9,300 other unique X accounts that have 33 million total followers, according to an AP analysis of “Zelenskyy Unmasked” X data created by Syracuse University’s Institute for Democracy, Journalism and Citizenship.

Influencers promote videos

The spread of “Zelenskyy Unmasked” highlighted how such influencers are playing increasingly pivotal roles in politics, and many have become de facto campaign surrogates for Democratic and Republican candidates. Trump told a core group of conservative content creators — who met in a “war room” during the last presidential debate — that they “are more important than I am.”

Some of those same influencers promoted the series, using identical or similar language to what Swann or Truth in Media promoted online.

Chaya Raichik, the founder of the far-right Libs of TikTok social media accounts, echoed Truth in Media’s promotion of the series, tweeting: “Where did $100 billion of our tax dollars that Congress sent to Ukraine go? Watch ‘Zelensky Unmasked’ to find out!” Raichik did not respond to requests for comment.

When Truth In Media promoted the third episode in the series, it tweeted, “The list of rich and powerful people profiting off the war in Ukraine includes President Biden and his son, but they’re far from the only ones.”

A few days later, C.J. Pearson, co-chair of the Republican National Committee’s Youth Advisory Council, wrote the exact same thing in a tweet about “Zelenskyy Unmasked.”

Others who touted the series were former Trump campaign attorney Jenna Ellis; Morgonn McMichael, a young creator linked to the right-leaning group Talking Points USA; and Andrew Giuliani, a former New York gubernatorial hopeful and the son of Trump confidant Rudy Giuliani. Ellis, McMichael and Giuliani did not respond to requests for comment from the AP.

Conservative influencer Xaviaer DuRousseau, another member of the RNC’s Youth Advisory Council, said he was paid to promote ”Zelenskyy Unmasked” on X through Urban Legend, an influencer marketing firm led by a former Trump administration staffer.

DuRousseau did not disclose how much he was paid, said he was unaware of Swann’s work for Russian state media until interviewed by the AP and said he would carefully consider any future collaborations.

“Is there maybe an ulterior motive to you being against Ukraine? Potentially,” he said. “But I would stress myself out so much if I researched every single person in this industry that thoroughly, to be honest.”

Swann said Truth in Media hired Urban Legend to help with marketing, but didn’t know the details of its work.

“We didn’t know whether or not they were talking to influencers,” Swann said in a statement.

Urban Legend declined to discuss its financial relationships with specific influencers. The company said in a statement that it had been unaware of Swann’s ties to RT and would no longer work with Truth in Media.

Among Swann’s most influential promoters was the former president’s son, Trump Jr., who did not respond to requests for comment from the AP.

In a tweet on April 5, Trump Jr. hailed the series as “explosive” for exposing “the truth behind the war in Ukraine!”

The social media platform’s users added a community note to his tweet that noted Swann’s ties to Russia and said his claims “are likely to be disinformation.”

The warning did not seem to deter Trump Jr. A few days later, he again took to X to praise Swann’s work — in identical language.

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