#still don't know how their system glitched

[sourtomatola]

The Plushie debacle (a true story)

The actual pic of the plush pile under cut

[keferon]

TexAid - Vortex has taken First Aid as his pilot. First Aid claims Vortex as his mech.

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

There's a rumbling in the distance as First Aid crawls out the darkened hatch of Vortex's escape chute.  The hangar is a wreck of collapsed walls, twisted metal pipes, and broken wiring shooting up sparks. 

First Aid pushes himself to his feet, stands back, and uses the flashes of light to take stock of the situation. 

This is…not good. 

He counts a dozen cuts and bruises across his own aching limbs before abandoning the effort.  He is satisfied at least that he is intact, alive, and functional.  All his injuries will heal, given treatment and time. 

Time he may not have.  Because Vortex on the other hand is not so lucky – lights off, systems silent, frame crumpled on the ground.  A slow trickle of oil leaks from the mecha, swirling into one of the many pools of alien ooze scattered around Vortex's frame along with chunks of the aliens' flesh.

The battle had been fierce, Vortex's fighting the fiercest Aid had ever seen against the many enemies.  But for the first time, it hadn't been enough.  The mecha suddenly going dark – collapsing under the strain of overtaxed systems even as the last of the monster's fell.  Leaving First Aid truly alone in that cockpit of horrors for the first time.

Another rumble sounds in the distance, shaking First Aid from his reflection.

He refocuses on the present, pushing himself to his feet and stumbling towards Vortex's head.  He raps his knuckles against the glass of the visor, shouts at the mecha to wake up. 

Nothing.

Vortex has gone dark.

This is not good.  He is dead.  They are dead, if Vortex cannot wake.  Because those distant rumbles are definitely not friendly.

No human has survived fighting the aliens without a mech.  And first Aid is a medic first.  Vortex is the fighter – the killer – of their strange partnership.  First Aid doesn't know what the aliens do to the mecha and pilots that go missing from the battlefield and are never recovered.  And he doesn't intend to find out.

But he does know what the science team will do with Vortex – a billion dollar prototype gone wrong – out of control and now offline.  They will take the mecha apart, dissect him, strip him down to his basest components to find out where it all went wrong.  And when they're done, what's left will be scrap – pieces repurposed into other mecha repairs.

They might build a new prototype top-of-the-line killing machine 2.0.  But is won't be Vortex.

First Aid hates that.  Because he should hate Vortex, after all the other has put him through.  But he doesn't.  Because before all that, Vortex had saved him.  Vortex chose him – kept First Aid alive and safe, even as he's shown countless times just how easily he could destroy Aid.

And Vortex is…was…could be alive – a mecha with a consciousness all his own in a way First Aid had not believed until he experienced it first-hand.

Out of ignorance, out of fear, out of hate, or simply because of the harsh realities of war – the others will kill Vortex (if he isn't already dead; please don't be dead) and never realize what they have done, because they never recognized that he was alive to begin with.  Never saw him as anything more than a glitch, an aberration in their perfect war design.

First Aid has a duty to save lives.  He cannot – will not – let that happen.  Vortex is his.  In death as much as in life.

The rumbling grows closer, close enough First Aid can imagine he hears the slithering of tentacles along walls underneath it. 

He will not let any other – alien or human – take Vortex from him, not while he still lives.

The cables on the ground throw up another flurry of sparks – casting eerie shadows across Vortex's frame.  First Aid's eyes fixate on the light, tracing the path of the wiring from where it snakes across the floor back up to the housing on the wall.  A broken main charging cable for a mech.

Maybe…just maybe…

It's a terrible idea.  So many things could go wrong – electrocution, a gruesome death, ending up a mindless shell on life support for the rest of his days (not so different from how Vortex already is now).  Pharma or Ratchet or any other medic would tell him as much.  They would tell him that there's almost no chance of powering on a mecha once it's gone fully dark, that it isn't worth risking himself too (and particularly not for this mecha).

For anyone else that might be true, but by now First Aid is used to a little risk.  Risk of electrocution and death?  Just another average day on the job.  No different than what Vortex puts him through every time he straps into the pilot seat.  The only thing that's different now is that Aid is choosing to take the risk.

Because there is a chance.  And First Aid is going to take it.

The rubber insulation of the cable is already in his hand when he looks down, his body having carried him to it as his mid was busy shutting out the doubts every other medic would have said.

Something bangs against the collapsed wall blocking entry to the hangar, sending a shower of dust outward.

First Aid hefts the cable over his shoulder, careful to keep the sparking end far in front of him, and begins the trek across the warehouse.  His shoulder burns from the extra weight on an already stressed joint and his legs protest as he forces them to twist and jump to avoid the pools of fluid that would cause instant electrocution if they came into contact with his body and the cable.

The aches don't matter.  He is a medic.  He can carry his own weight and still have the strength to lift up others.  He can do this.  He will do this.

First Aid is gasping for breath by the time he reaches Vortex again.  His sides ache, lungs burning with each breath.  He mentally adds checking for the possibility of bruised ribs to his catalogue of injuries, then shoves the pain aside to focus fully on Vortex's frame.

First Aid eyes the power node at the back of the mecha's neck and before he can think twice, shoves the broken power cable into it.  Sparks fly around the junction and Vortex's frame jolts, lights flickering briefly, then stills.  First Aid pulls the cable away, then hits Vortex again.  And again.  And again.  Lights flicker.  Sparks fly.  Dust showers around First Aid.  Electricity jolts through Vortex's frame.

"Come on," First Aid mutters as Vortex's lights stay on a full second after he pulls the cable away before stuttering out again.

He takes a deep breath and throws the cable directly into the center of Vortex's chest, where the mecha's primary batter is housed.  Sparks fly across Vortex's frame, lights flicker, flash bright white, then stabilize to a dim red glow.

First Aid's momentary relief shatters as Vortex moves and he feels a gust of air from a cold metal blade passing just over his head.  There's a dull thunk, and then fluid is pouring down on First Aid, coating him in a thick sludge of blood from the alien that First Aid reckons was looming just behind him, judging by the bright green eyeball that falls from above to land in a spatter at his feet.

First Aid looks up at Vortex looming over him, gloving red light pouring out from the maw of the cockpit and laughs, shaking hysterically as a hand reaches down to scoop him up from the ground.

They are alive.  He is Vortex's.  Vortex is his.  They are alive.

D-dont. Don't make me even more feral about them than I already am. Don't. I was GOING TO SLEEP BUT NOW MY BRAIN WON'T STOP WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME HOW AM I GONNA PRETEND TO BE NORMAL NOW WH

Previous Next

[chris-prank]

Can we get any NSFW headcanons for the lovely Atlas? (I love him so much you don't understand)

Yandere sub android NSFW drabbles

Im so happy you love Atlas! I really do need to give him more attention���� 

I promise one day I’ll write a complete nsfw one shot for Atlas 🙏🏻If you don't know him already you can read his Part 1 here!

CW: NSFW, mention of overstimulation, mention of cum taste and giving head

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Atlas puts your pleasure before his own, but he still has a preference to take a more submissive role during sex. He just loves having you in charge.

He adores giving head, since Atlas has more control with his mouth and hands to make you feel really good. In addition, if you pet his head while he is between your legs, it’s going to be heaven on earth for him. 

 He is very talkative during sex, he especially likes telling you how much he loves you and how great you are. That will obviously be accompanied by moans, whimpers and whines, as he can actually feel pleasure! 

He absolutely wants to hear you say that you love him too, it makes his wires feel all hot and bothered. 

His dick size is adjustable. He can make it larger, longer, smaller, you name it! Atlas can even make it vibrate if you ask him to. 

You can also change the taste of his cum! Hydrotech has a variety of options going from the classic taste to ones like chocolate or honey flavored. 

He considers his cock a dildo and his asshole a fleshlight, so if you were to use any of those sex toys he would feel a bit betrayed and left aside. 

Atlas loveee being overstimulated, especially because you can prevent him from cumming, like literally. So even if his body can’t take it anymore and he wants to cum, nothing will come out of him. It makes his mind go blank with pleasure, and he found that to be one of the best sensations for his system. 

You can actually access his sensitivity level in his settings with an app. Perfect to play with while you two are in the middle of doing it 🤭

His voice glitch when he cum or when you overstimulate him (I feel like this is a staple for android/robot characters.) 

His voice also becomes more high pitched and whiny during sex, no more monotonous tone for him. 

Atlas often imitates actions, words, attitudes that he sees in the porn you read or watch. He likes to surprise you with new submissive slutty things he learned off the internet and satisfy your inner fantasies. He is not into role play per say, but he is down to do it and gets very convincing in his roles. 

He doesn’t have any body hair, he is smooth smooth. Also, he has metallic patterns on his chest and tummy just like the metal plates on both of his cheeks! They are especially sensitive to the touch.

He feel the urge to call you master during sex.

When you guys are done he’ll make sure to make you drink some water, ask if he can clean you up, change the bed sheets, etc. He knows that after care is a crucial part of sex.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

When writing I felt like an hydrotech employee trying to promote all the androids 18+ functionalities 😂

[rabotimagines]

"Pet names" pt2 GN! BOT Reader + Prowl, Ratchet, Blaster, Bumblebee, Skyfire

Summary: Reader has become partial to using human pet names for everyone.

Warnings: none.

Genre/Theme: Platonic/with hints of crush

G1 characters included: Prowl, Ratchet, Blaster, Bumblebee, Skyfire.

Notes: Cybertronian Reader, Reader is around Ironhides age so older in mind

Pronouns: You, your, yours, them, they

Prowl is trying to get a verbal review of your report while finishing up his own. You've all been busy the past week, so you're walking through the ark hall while conversing. And you finish, so you move to hand him the physical report on the datapad. "Here you go, Pudding."

Prowl full-on stops in place when he hears what you say, fully expecting his audials to be glitching. "What did you just say?"

"Here you go, Pudding." You hold the datapad out, still completely unperturbed by what you'd just done and even more so when having to repeat it. Prowl processor lags- Because you're calling him- human pet names of all things without reason. But he forces his system to straighten out and consider your personality. This stops it from getting worse since this may just be you behaving like... you.

"You know my designation." Prowl settles on stating the fact.

"I do." You stated back, still wordlessly holding the datapad for him to take. Annoyance slowly seeps into Prowls frame at the exchange, and he takes the datapad from you.

Prowl gives you a long calculating look. "Do not do it again." He settled on.

You just shrugged, a small smirk curling on your derma. "Okay later then, Pumpkin." You turn and leave before Prowl comprehends this pet name, which makes his helm snap to your retreating form.

Prowl does not enjoy it. The incessant pet names you'd elected to now refer every autobot with. His wings twitch in annoyance whenever you call him "Pumpkin" or "Pudding" or allspark forbid "Peaches." Optimus fully pauldron shaking laughed the first time you'd called him that one. You humiliating Prowl was not how he wanted Optimus to get his R&R. However, he will tolerate it slightly more when Optimus is in the room. If not to watch you make a fool of Optimus, instead of him. Prowl had attempted to scold you the first time he'd seen you call Optimus "Sweetspark." their leaders' finials had pulled back when you'd done so- Optics brightened. But Optimus informed Prowl that he actually does enjoy the pet names. Prowl doesn't understand even after Oprimus's explanation of the supposed "benefits" of your behavior.

But he does look and watch after that and must conceded that there was- some, however mild, merit to the autobots general mood when you'd use your pet names. It was merely a bother in Prowls system, but he supposed he could make the sacrifice for the morale of the autobots.

Prowl wouldn't like it, however.

-

Ratchets resetting your leg juncture back into place after a battle. You hadn't bothered to come to him till after he got through everyone else. You'd apparently "forgotten" about it in the hustle of making sure everyone else got seen first. Slag is what it was, and Ratchet made sure you knew exactly what he thought. It realigns and clicks into place with you digging a servo against his pauldron with a hissing vent. You relaxed your jaw and nod in gratitude. "Ha- Thanks, love."

Ratchet almost coughs in shock, his plating flaring a touch. But after years of hearing everything from patients in pain or in surgery high on something, he just clicks his glossia. "Next time, don't forget to mention your own injuries."

Ratchet had assumed it was just a slip of the glossia at the time due to the pain and let it slide. Then the next time you're reporting from Optimus to him and call him "Handsome." And he's asking you to repeat that, which you shamelessly do with a smirk. Ratchet scoffed and told you he wasn't going to go any easier on you the next time you forget to come in. No matter how much you try flattering him. Then he sees you with the other autobots and learns you've simply picked this up as a habit.

Ratchet has to resist the urge to roll his optics every time you do it with him. He's gone from being prickly in response with you to half seriously threatening to short your mouth circuit if you didn't stop. But you only continued to do just that. Whenever you called him "Love," his damn spark hummed a touch louder. You've realized that too and tend to only use that more often or not. Much to his- exasperation. Ratchet does enjoy the casual affection to a degree. Reminds him of his younger days. The easier ones. So he doesn't ever throw a wrench at you for the pet names themselves.

Ratchet does definitely enjoy watching the others more than being on the receiving end. Watching Optimus's finials twitch, then pull forward slightly and his plating fluffing in response. Or Ironhide looking like he was going to blow a minor fuse from how bright his own optics were while he unsuccessfully tried to get you to stop. Even Prowls door wings twitching in obvious disdain makes Ratchet crack a smirk at least. So Ratchet let's it be for the most part. They could use some "softer" interactions around the base.

...

He's still telling you to stop whenever you do it to him, though.

-

Blasters cool with it. He's been in it with the humans at parties or at clubs (the ones he could fit in anyway.) And he's seen and even been on the receiving end of flirting pet names on the occasion. You calling him "Babe" didn't trigger much but an amused smirk. Blaster will return a few casual pet names himself a "Babe" here and there. But what is not cool is Jazz and you being as cringe inducing as possible on his audials. Blaster is sooooo sick of being subjected to you and Jazz's "flirting." It ain't flirting it's a failing clown show!

You'll get more of a fond smile when Blaster sees you pet naming his cassettes. They all fumbled a touch when you'd called them something with sweetness in your tone. Steeljaw, like always, is aloof and focused when you're on the clock. But when you're off? Just chilling at the ark? Steeljaw is a little slagger. Rewind and Eject at least have the decency to only do it when it's natural. Steeljaw will seek you out with his olfactory when you're both off duty to get called sweet names by you.

"I'm so glad you're still here, Foxy." You waved at Jazz, who was standing next to Blaster.

"And I'm so glad to see you too, Snookums." Jazz's tone is so absurd it actually makes Blaster feel physically tired.

"And I'm gonna purge." Blaster bluntly remarks, causing you both to turn to him, then share a look with each other. Jazz smiles in a way Blaster recognizes and is immediately cautious. Blaster jolts when you're suddenly leaning into his space. Your digits are now just barely tracing his boombox buttons.

You smile like a felinoid, and Blasters tries to back up, but Jazz is suddenly pressing up behind him, preventing his escape. Jazz's arms even wrapped around Blasters middle. You speaking makes his gaze snap back to you. "Come on, Baby, don't you wanna have some fun?" You worried your optical ridge, and Blasters glossia is feeling really thick in his mouth now.

Then, his dock compartment snaps open of its own accord, and Steeljaw ejects and forms right into your arms. You just chuckle and heft his cassette into a more comfortable position. "Hey baby! I know you won't say no to a little TLC, Blaster, however..."

Blaster, now broken out of that little trance, shook to break out of Jazz's hold. Jazz, however, did not release him - "Sorry Blaster! You're not approved for release until you enjoy at least five compliments from both of us!" Like pit Blaster was! He wasn't sticking around to hear the kind of slag you both called flirting! Blaster looked at Steeljaw for help only to slack at the smile on his cassettes muzzle. The little traitor!

-

Bumblebee isn't ambushed by it like the others- He's already heard through the autobot gossip about your new little routine. So he's mostly prepared and more wondering when/what you'd call him. You haven't used a pet name with him yet, so he's waiting on his pedes for it to happen. He half ends up wondering if you'll exclude him for some reason when you finally do it after a minor battle with the cons.

You're doing head count and injury report for Ratchet and get to him. Bumblebee almost trips, but you catch his arm and steady him. "Careful Honey, don't injure yourself after the battle."

Bumblebees optics burn only a touch brighter, but he's mostly amused. "Honey? Because of my designation translation?"

You just smirked, your own amusement growing in your em field. Bumblebee could feel it with how close you were right now. You leaned a touch further into his space. "What? Can't be because you're so sweet?" The heady wave of playful affection in your field mixed with that makes Bumblebees optics brighten in embarrassment proper. You just chuckled and squeezed his arm before moving to continue to make your post battle rounds. While Bumblebee wordlessly watched you go.

Bumblebee enjoys the attention even if it's admittedly embarrassing. Bumblebee thinks he might almost enjoy seeing the other autobots' reactions more than getting your attention himself. Almost anyway. While yeah it's definitely funny watching Ironhide especially try and get you to stop. Bumblebee enjoys each time you share a pet name with him just a little bit more. Bumblebee does admittedly feel a bit giddy whenever it happens. It makes him stand up a bit taller and makes him smile a touch whenever he hears it. A small rush of confidence courses through him every time.

The first time you called Bumblebee, "Lovebug." Though? Bumblebee walked right into one of the ark walls.

-

"Hey, teddy bear!" Teddy bear-? The small plush toys human children carry around? Skyfire stops when you call it out in the ark hallway, because he had no clue who you'd be directing the name towards... only to watch you wander right up to him. Skyfires optics widen a touch when you stop in front of him and look at him expectantly.

"Am I...?" Skyfire wondered aloud.

You only smirked and simply held out a datapad for him to take "Yeah you, teddy bear, need you to review this for me so I can approve it for Perceptor or not."

"I- Alright." Skyfire took the datapad unsure if he should ask about the name or not.

"Thank you, Darling." Now that one makes Skyfires optics brighten a touch. But you just salute him with two digits and go on your way again.

Skyfire quickly learns this was something of a habit you had picked up when he overhears the twins complaining about their pet names from you. Skyfire finds himself enjoying the affectionate names even if they do fluster him a touch. The affections were kind and freely given out by you. It was refreshing for Skyfire, especially after having joined this vorns long war, to hear them roll off your glossia. To see the crinkle in your optics. And to feel the light affection in your em field if he happened to be close enough to you when you did so. It was- normal. A touch embarrassing yes, but almost painfully normal.

You'd keep switching, but you mostly called him "Bear" or "Teddy bear," and on occasion "Darling". He'd asked about the Teddy bear nickname in particular since he understood darling as a pet name a touch more. And you just smirked and completely unabashed and said, "Humans say it's for someone big, dependable and lovable. So I think it fits pretty well." Skyfire ends up so embarrassed by the casual remark he can feel cobalt on his own faceplate. He ends up putting his servo over his own faceplate and looking anywhere but you. While you just laughed light at Skyfires own expense.

After that exchange, hearing you call him "Bear" or "Teddy bear" makes Skyfires optics brighten more than "Darling."

[emacrow]

Raven and Tim were the next one to know as Babs brought them in a room with a powerpoint about the fairy boy in Alfred's garden.

Raven because she knows most all mythical creatures in her personal library books and hopefully has a solution to how to capture and relocate the fairy..

Tim for the strategy and backup plans, but his mouth was currently being duct taped shut because Babs will kill him if he say those words.

"Alright, do you have any questions, and what are your solutions plan for capture misplaced Fairy?" Babs said after finishing the powerpoint.

"How exactly did Alfred acquire this flower that the winged fae resided in?"Raven said, looking through her books of Fae history and homes.

"Alfred saw it was the only thing left on the sale, and discount flowers stand at his favorite grocery store, but he got it for free since the tag for it was gone and the manager did had a crush on him. I believe it is a bit far too coincidental." Babs continues to explain.

"I checked the groceries camera footages and it seem to just appear out of nowhere, like some type of glitch in the system."

"... It sounds like a misplaced infinite realm random natural portal incident.." Raven mumbled a bit, flipping a book's pages with her telekinesis to the correct page with the number at the very end chapter of fae and infinite realms.

"Infinite realm..?" Tim voice a bit after tearing off the double duct tape off his mouth, rubbing his stinging lips.

"Yes, seem the little fae was judge as an offering that was rejected to a Higher being of the Infinite realm or offended due to a defect such as his wings are missing." Raven thought about it after several examinations.

"The fae still has sparkling dust on his clothes that was likely fae powder-

"-Pixie dust" babs said a bit too excitedly

"Scars all over his body and on his back look to been recently that he was tortured and his wings were Intently torn off to make sure he didn't had a chance to escape back to fae realm, along with being placed back into his home flower stuck in hibernation phase while contaminated with the infinite realm energy.

Seem the nature portal randomly was this fae saving grace, as it instinctly went straight for sugar cube, a blueberry and gem that didn't have silver coating along with its body pushing itself hard to fly with the remaining residue of fae powder that the buzzing sound was likely a former lightning since Fae noises can not be heard by the human ear even with boasting of magic unless you had step into the fae rings." Raven explained as she read the chapter.

"Do fairies tend to die if you say that.." Babs trying to say by pointing at to emphasize the words on the powerpoint that typed words theory of fairies dying if humans say they don't exist??

"Unfortunately, it seemed so as thousand years or so began to humans lost interests, offerings or belief to Fae-

"Fairies-

-Azarath Metrion Zinthos, they tend to lose power and seemingly fade away into a painfully slow death is very rare, which was counter by them cutting off the entrances of their own fairy rings to the world to save their immortalized skin." Raven said after getting interrupt for the second time, using the shadows to cover Babs mouth so she can finished explaining.

Previous post part 3 link Here <-

[bwat5-blog]

Why Didn't We See Cait Tell Vi About Jinx?

**Spoilers For Arcane***

There has been a tremendous amount of conversation regarding Jinx's fate in the end of the show. I think by now, most of us seem to agree she is alive. There is a significant amount of evidence. But one of the conversations I have enjoyed reading different takes on, is did Caitlyn tell Vi her suspicions? should she? and why didn't we see one way or the other? This will be fairly short compared to my usual work, I just wanted to delve into these questions, offer my thoughts, and hopefully get some good discussion out of it!

THE EVIDENCE: (In no particular order)

The Shimmer streak right as the explosion occurs

I have seen some argue that it's simply the purple inside the bomb. This is possible of course but it seems extremely directed.

2. Caitlyn's investigations

When it is all said and done, we have a quiet moment with Caitlyn investigating the cooling/vent system of the tower where Jinx died, as well has holding the mostly intact head of her monkey bomb. the implication here is quite clear. But of course it is not definitive. They are only telling us she reason to be thinking about Jinx being alive.

3. Full Circle

The second shot is the last one of the show.. if we didn't have the first shot to fall back to it would feel quite random but if you think back to that, it seems quite clear what they are implying. Additionally although I don't have a good way to share it here, the score in this moment is variation on "Dear friend across the river" which we hear Powder singing to open the whole show.

4. Glitched The End

That is the very last shot we are given and the animation is very in line with the glitch style of Jinx we have come to know so well.

5. Arcane Afterglow For Act 3

Skip to 1:19 if that is all you are here for

________________________________________________

There are others for sure. I saw someone in the community post some pages from the artbook showing things like "i'm still here" I believe it was. And I know there have been other interviews and such. This is just what I am personally aware of. And while of course I am just a regular fan and I don't know any better than any of you, this is all enough for me to feel confidant saying she's alive. I am of a similar opinion to many I have seen. I do not think Caitlyn had told Vi by the end of what we saw, but I think it's because she herself is not 100% sure yet.

Why isn't she sure?

Well even using the evidence I listed, only one out of those five points is something Caitlyn would be aware of. Now I do think she is probably fairly confidant, as the implication of her investigating at all was very clear. But keeping in mind that she knows how badly Vi wanted to save Jinx, and the enormity of the guilt Vi must feel given that Jinx had to save her (Vi was legitimately having a dissociative episode born of her PTSD and there was nothing she could do. Don't start with me Anti-Vi'ers), I think Caitlyn would be very careful to not give Vi false hope.

Would Caitlyn Even Tell Vi and Risk Her leaving?

I think so. And my reasoning is that she has done it before. When she paved the way for Vi to free Jinx, there was every possibility the sisters would vanish into the night and Caitlyn would never see them again. With that in mind, and their dynamic in general with Caitlyn probably feeling she has a tremendous amount of trust to keep rebuilding between them, I seriously doubt she would risk hiding something so large from Vi if she felt confidant Jinx was alive. Jinx wanted Vi to live free of their past and find her happiness. I think Caitlyn would honor giving Vi the choice and hope for the best. Especially taking into account the whole dynamic around Caitlyn showing Vi how much she loves and respects not only her, but her heart. She cherishes the heart that drives Vi to protect those she loves. I don't see Caitlyn betraying that by trying to control her.

Is it better for Vi to know?

This one is tough. On the one hand, we have to factor all the things we already discussed in. We know Vi wanted them to be together. We know she is probably torturing herself over her sister's perceived death. But, we also have to consider the other side. Because by the end the Sisters are family again. So why would Jinx leave and not tell Vi the truth?:

Jinx herself will never know peace in Piltover or Zaun (at least as things are now). I'm not doing a whole thing here, but in Zaun they all want her to be their symbol. And in Piltover, regardless of her heroism or the reason she did what she did, there will always be stares and whispers for her crimes. Not to mention the whole process of whatever resolving the issues of her crimes would mean in the first place. It would not only be trouble for her, but probably for Vi and Caitlyn as well. She gave Vi permission to move forward with her life, and we saw Vi take it which is a reason to be hopeful. But if I were Jinx, and I had decided to leave, I would be very aware of the possibility that Vi would feel honor bound to leave the love she had found, and turn her back on the peace Jinx tried to convince her she deserves. Because while Vi is full to the brim with wonderful qualities, her journey to believing her own self-worth is still very new. And I think Jinx wisely would be worried Vi could not let her go alone. Just as Vi has to start finding herself free of their past, Jinx needs the same. It's not that she doesn't love Vi. I think she has made it EXTREMELY CLEAR that she does. But in terms of her mental state and her arc, I think she has resolved the conflict between the shattered ghost of Powder, and Silco's terrorist daughter. she IS JINX. She is no longer A JINX. And I think to find out what that means, she has to step away from the shadows of her past and start completely over. Just as Vi has to start finding out who she is without the crushing guilt and pain of their childhood. Listen yall, I know I can be quite harsh on Jinx especially because Vi is my favorite. But let me bring you back to something I first realized in my deep-dive on the sisters relationship.

Vi is a courageous, loving, and loyal sister who would fist fight the devil himself with one hand tied behind her back for her loved ones. But she is still only a person. And as always, the brilliantly heart wrenching writing of this show tells us exactly how Jinx feels about her older sister in the opening of the show, and proves it again at the end:

Even when they were little girls on that bridge, Vi walked tall, trying to shield Powder from the horror around them. But when it became too much, when the horror, and the pain, and the loss overwhelmed her, Powder threw her small body over her big sister trying with everything in her to be that shield for Vi.... Just as she would the next time Violet needed her...

I am firmly and completely convinced she would not leave Vi like that unless she truly felt it was the right thing for both of them. She has come to far and been through too much. Agree or disagree, I think she is doing her best to be that sister Vi deserves once more. Even if its painful.

What I Hope:

My hope, is that Caitlyn shares her information with Violet when she feels she has enough to not devastate her beloved with false hope. And that hearing that, Vi will choose to honor her sister's decision, as well as see the truth that she herself deserves love, and peace, and safety, and be at peace. My hope is that in the end, Vi can see Jinx's decision was not one of neglect, or abandonment, or crisis. But just as Vi had always tried so hard to be Jinx needed, in that moment Jinx saw what they both needed, and made the hard call, to give them both the chance the world tried to steal from them.

Thank you all for reading. I know I have been a tad feisty lately and I wanted to get back to talking about what I love about this show! These characters and this story connect with us all on such deep levels because of their humanity. Their flaws, their strengths, the moments they succeed and the moments they fall short. Ultimately, we can't know if Violet will do the right thing if and when she finds out. But she and Caitlyn give me hope. I hope this has done the same for you.

Never stop standing for the stories that matter. See yall next time!

[aemsgirl]

In Spite of Us.

Modern Aemond x Reader.

Summary: Raised in an orphanage before being adopted by the same family, you and Aemond have always been bound by something deeper than childhood friendship. Darkness. Obsession. The kind of things that burrow into your minds and refuse to leave. In a world that couldn’t care less about either of you, the harsh truth remains: you’re all each other has—whether you like it or not.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Incest, drug and substance abuse, mention of graphic violence, mention of murder, mention of parental abuse, smut, degradation, possessive behavior, dub-consent.

Author's note: I'm deciding whether to continue. If you'd like to, please let me know.

In a world this fucked, it's no wonder it spits out people just as broken. Twisted up, chipped, and ready to snap. Minds that don't play by the so-called normal rules. You’re a glitch in the system, the full stop shoved into the middle of the sentence. A ticking bomb of chemical chaos, or maybe just the gnawing hunger that’s been chewing you from the inside out since day one. You knew it. Aemond knew it. Always did. You didn't fit, never would. For a while, that shit felt like a curse—like a weight tied around your neck. But then it became second nature, like breathing in poison and calling it air. You stopped fighting it, stopped letting it tear you apart. You didn't just wear it; you owned it. Hell, maybe you even died for it.

Aemond sometimes wondered where it all started. Maybe it was that hellhole of an orphanage, where they threw you both like trash. Not a home—just another cruel joke. A meat grinder, with its hunger pangs, freezing walls, and the constant line-up for scraps that were never enough. You were quiet, too fucking quiet, and that made people look at you sideways. But then there was him. The shadow that stood between you and the bigger boys who thought pain was a game. You didn't know why he gave a damn. Maybe it was that time you woke up in the dead of night and saw him sitting on the floor, staring at you like some ghost that couldn't rest. The dark didn't bother him, and his silver hair sure as hell didn't make him harder to spot.

He was there. Always was. And you? You were his shadow, just as much as he was yours. Years didn't change a damn thing. Then that joke of a family came along, slapped the word adoption on you both like it meant something. A better life? Bullshit. Things didn’t get better—they just shifted into another shade of misery.

Mum? She spent her days with a bottle of cheap wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other, blowing out clouds that reeked of fake watermelon. She used to say the sweet ones were best, even if they tasted like shit. And Dad? Oh, he loved Aemond’s silver hair. Loved it so much that when he was about to lose his temper, he'd hold onto him like some sick lifeline. But that didn't stop the scars. Those stayed, etched into his skin, courtesy of the belts and threads Dad liked to use.

Crying? Aemond didn't cry. He didn't have to. The silence screamed loud enough.

Years dragged on, and one day you weren't some helpless kid anymore. But the bullshit didn't stop—if anything, it cranked up a notch. You remember the screaming. How could you not? Dad’s twisted little excuses, his shitty jokes that got uglier every time, all just another way to go at you or Aemond. And Mum? She was barely even there—when she was, all she did was scream too. The sound of her begging still rattles in your head. “Stop. It hurts.” Over and over, bouncing off the walls like it could break something in him. It never did.

So, you did what you always did. Slid under the covers next to Aemond, the only refuge you had. Not that he reacted much. He’d just lie there, staring blankly at the ceiling, cold as death. It was like lying next to a corpse. But it was better than being alone. At least, that's the lie you kept feeding yourself.

It was during one of these times that you felt him react for the first time. His fingers slid down your thighs under the covers, gripping them firmly. They traveled up to your waist and disappeared under your shirt. His cold fingertips mapped your spine as if they were counting the bones there, his breath blowing at the back of your neck, and he leaned closer to bite your neck, hard enough to leave a mark on your jaw. You felt every sensation, as if the devil himself was licking your skin raw and bathing it in his saliva. When his hand found your breast and rolled your nipple between his fingers, you arched your hips back, and as you wiggled them, you found his member already hard under his loose shorts.

After that, it was like two beasts were being released from their cages at the exact same time.

Aemond turned his body and spread your legs, not even bothering to take off your shorts or yours panties, just pushing them aside. Pulling down his shorts revealed his cock, almost throbbing your name. At least that's what it seemed like, since he was calling for you. Grabbing your thighs, he parted them even more and thrust into you in one swift motion, until your groins slammed together. Over and over, growing in your ear, while using one hand to cover your lips, muffling the desperate cries of pain and ecstasy that escaped. His cock became a mess with your scent and the blood from your first experience, going deeper and deeper.

It was too much, for both your body and your mind. Your nails scratched into him as if you were ready to disintegrate him, the screams that had tormented your nights before vanished. Sweat clung to your bodies and the clothes you still wore, your walls squeezing him, pulling him even deeper. You felt whole, so fucking whole that your eyes rolled back. That was when you reached the first true orgasm of your life, before feeling Aemond pull out and spill over your belly, staining you in more ways than one. It was almost peaceful.

The peace shattered when the bastard stormed into the room. It didn’t feel real—more like some fucked-up fever dream. He yanked Aemond off you and threw him to the floor like trash. You tried to get up, but he was on you in an instant, his fist smashing into your face so hard it sent you sprawling back onto the bed. Your nose was leaking blood, your vision blurry as hell, but through half-closed eyes, you saw it all.

He mounted Aemond, his fists raining down in a storm of violence. But this time? This time wasn’t like the others. Something snapped. Aemond's thighs locked around the old bastard’s torso, flipping him over with a strength you didn’t even know he had.

That was it. That fucking line—the one that should never have been crossed—was gone.

Aemond let loose. His fists came down again and again, each punch sinking into the man’s face, his nose collapsing under the blows. Blood sprayed everywhere, pooling on the ground like a sick offering. Aemond’s knuckles turned black and blue, the flesh split and soaked in crimson, but he didn’t give a shit. He grabbed the bastard by the hair, slamming his head into the floor over and over, screaming like a man possessed.

The crack of his skull splitting open echoed through the room. Blood spread out like a dark halo around his head, but Aemond didn’t stop. No, stopping wasn’t in the plan. He wanted to tear the son of a bitch apart, piece by piece, rip him open from crown to toe, exposing every festering, rotting bit of ugliness for the world to see.

You saw it—the exact moment that piece of shit raised his hand and jammed his thumb into Aemond’s eye. That was it. No more waiting, no more thinking. You shot up from the bed, your hands grabbing the first thing in reach—a pen from your desk.

Your heart was hammering like a war drum as you moved in, the sharp tip aimed and ready. One step, and the pen sank deep into his left eye. You didn’t stop. Not until his face was a grotesque, unrecognisable mess, blood and pulp dripping down like something out of a nightmare.

When he finally stopped moving, you looked over at Aemond. His face was the same cold, detached mask he always wore, but his raw, trembling hands betrayed him. His silence was deafening.

You thought about saying something—hell, anything—but the scream cut through the room like a blade. Your head whipped to the side, and there she was. Your mother. Sliding to the floor, hands clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. She was still naked, her body a wreck from whatever that bastard had been doing to her before he’d turned his attention to you both.

There wasn’t time to think—fuck, thinking wasn’t even an option. You were on autopilot. Aemond was the first to move, landing a punch on Mum that sent her sprawling to the floor, her scream cutting off like a bad record. You didn’t even flinch. You were already moving, grabbing a backpack and shoving in whatever the hell you could find, yanking on the closest clothes without a second thought.

When you were done, you looked back at the scene—Mum on the ground, Aemond standing over her, the room still reeking of blood and chaos. You knew it then, as clear as the blood on your hands: you were fucked. This wasn’t something you could crawl back from. So Aemond found their stash of cash, shoved it into your bag, and bolted. No goodbyes, no second guesses. Just running.

Every moment after that was soaked in fear. The shitty motels you both crashed in, the greasy diners where you shoved down food that tasted like cardboard, the endless paranoia that came with every passing police car. Red and blue lights haunted the back of your eyelids, flashing like some kind of sick countdown. Every night, you stared at your fingers, half-expecting handcuffs to snap around them. But they never came.

The anxiety started to dull, forced out by exhaustion and the silence that hung between you two like a heavy fog. You never figured out why no one came looking. Maybe no one gave a damn about that bastard. Maybe the world had just decided to let you off the hook for once. Whatever the reason, the answers didn't come, and you weren't about to go digging for them.

Aemond was the practical one, the one with the plan—or at least the one who acted like he had one. He decided your next moves, no questions asked. He wasn’t afraid to dive headfirst into the filth, mixing with the worst kinds of people. And why the hell not? Everyone was scared of him. They didn’t see a guy—they saw a rabid animal, barely tethered. That suited him just fine. It suited you just fine. Fear opened doors, and Aemond kicked them wide open.

By working the right angles and talking to the right scumbags, you both found some good shit to sell, and before long, a shitty little hole to call home followed. He was always making extra stops, running his own little side deals with people who made your skin crawl. You didn’t ask questions, though. You knew better. Some of it was personal—his own brand of chaos that you didn’t dare get involved in.

And when things went sideways? When his preferences left a trail of wreckage behind? It always came down to you to clean up the mess. Blood, lies, broken promises—you were knee-deep in it, scrubbing his mistakes off the floor and praying no one noticed. That’s just how it worked.

So when you came home that morning, boots in hand, tiptoeing in like you were trying not to wake a sleeping beast, what you walked into didn’t shock you. Not really. You were past being surprised by shit like this. The living room floor was painted in scarlet, the blood so fresh it looked like it might still be warm.

And her? She was sprawled there in the middle of it all, like some fucked-up display. You couldn’t even tell what colour her hair was, not with how soaked it was in blood. Her throat—well, there wasn’t much of it left. Torn open, barely held together. Her face still stuck in this frozen mask of terror. Clothes? Forget it. She didn’t have a shred on her, just skin bruised all over like someone had been working her over for hours.

You took another step, then another, and there he was—Aemond. Lounging on the couch like it was just another Tuesday. Legs spread wide, head tipped back, a cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth, smoke curling up toward the ceiling. Blood covered him—his chest, arms, hands. It was everywhere, dripping down him like some grotesque masterpiece. The only thing untouched? His sweatpants, the one clean piece of fabric on him.

He didn’t even look at you. Just sat there, exhaling a long drag of smoke, like he’d just come back from a jog instead of whatever the hell this was.

"Where the fuck have you been?" His voice cut through the suffocating silence, sharp and loaded with accusation. You could have laughed—really could’ve—at the irony of him asking the questions when the room looked like this.

But you didn’t laugh. Not because it wasn’t funny, but because when you looked at him properly, you saw that he wasn’t in the mood for your shit. His eyes were hard, jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding into that cigarette like it had personally offended him. The black hair he’d been dyeing since everything went to hell was sticking to his pale, blood-slick skin, smoke curling around him like he was burning alive from the inside out.

He was pissed. You didn’t need to ask why.

“I went out for drinks,” you said flatly, like it wasn’t even worth a conversation, leaning down to drop your heavy boots onto the floor with a thud. That’s when it hit you—the ache in your thighs, sharp and unforgiving after hours spent dancing, grinding all that tension out of your body. You straightened up slowly, your muscles protesting, your gaze flicking back to him like you were daring him to say something about it.

"All night?" His voice was low, almost too soft. It was ridiculous, really—how the hell could he sound like a goddamn feather when everything about him screamed destruction? It was like he was about to rip you to shreds, but still, the tone came out smooth and menacing. "Are you sure?" The second question came, quieter, sharper.

You squinted at him, head tilting slightly, trying to piece together what game he was playing this time. Every time you left, it was the same damn thing. Coming back to that look in his eyes—something primal, dangerous, like he could rip through you without a second thought. Like he wanted to hunt you down, drag you back into the house, and break you apart, just like he did with the girl on the floor.

And goddamn it, you knew. You knew the thought had crossed his mind more than once. Every time you pulled some shit like this, he probably imagined slicing you open, testing how much you'd bleed. You didn’t even have to ask. You could see it in his eyes.

"Yes, all night," you answered, your voice sharp with irritation. He wasn’t the one who should be asking questions—not after the bloodbath he’d left on your favorite rug.

Aemond exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. Slowly, deliberately, he stood up. His bare feet made no noise as he walked toward you, stepping over the body like it was just another object in his way. You met his movement with your usual defiance, head held high and chin up, not showing an ounce of weakness. But that only seemed to make things worse.

He closed the distance, stopping just inches away, his hot breath hitting your face. He tilted his head down, leaning in closer, nose brushing against your skin as he took a deep sniff, his eyes narrowing as he examined you for something he didn’t want to see. The smell of blood, alcohol, and sweat mixed in the air, the tension thick enough to cut.

"You let someone fuck you?" he murmured, his voice dark and low. He exhaled slowly, searching your scent for any trace of another man’s presence.

Your fists tighten, nails digging into your palms as the sharp, metallic smell of blood mixes with something unmistakably Aemond—anger, frustration, and that volatile edge of his temper that never seems to stay contained. You should be used to it by now, the question always hanging in the air, the same shit over and over. The way he digs into it like a damn animal, hoping to find something he can’t.

"No." The word slips out, tight and clipped, your jaw clenching as you force the response. You see it in his eyes—the search, that desperate need to find an excuse, something to justify whatever the hell this is.

A heavy sigh escapes his lips, shoulders dropping momentarily before he tilts his head back, the movement slow and deliberate. You watch the way his throat works with the motion, the sight making your own lips dry. Then, without warning, his hand is in your hair, fingers curling tightly around the strands and yanking back hard. The pain is sharp, like a dagger to your scalp, and you’re quick to grab his forearm, trying to pull him away, but it’s useless. His grip is ironclad.

"Fuck off!" you gasp, the sting radiating through your scalp, but instead of backing off, he tightens his hold, the pull sending a hot rush of tears to your eyes as your skin stretches, every nerve alight.

Without any kindness, he begins to drag you across the room until he reaches where the girl's corpse now lay cold. Kicking the back of your knees, he brings you down to the floor on them, holding tightly to your hair. He positions himself behind you, pressing your cheek against his, using his grip to angle your face better towards the scene.

"Are you lying to me now, you fucking bitch?" his words are poured directly into your ear, the tone so deep it seemed to vibrate from his chest.

"I already said no!” you answer through gritted teeth, the unbearable pain in your head made worse by the amount you drank the night before.

With a grunt, he forces your face to the ground, pressing your cheek into the blood that was there, his open palm on your other cheek. He takes a moment to observe you in that position, so fucking at his mercy. He could break your jaw right now if he wanted to. He could mix your blood with that of the filthy whore on the ground. He could; it would be so damn easy, and you knew it.

"Yeah? You know what's gonna happen if you keep this up, don't you, little dove?" He smirks, grinding your face into the blood, the scent overwhelming your senses as he presses his body against your hunched, aching back. "Come on, scream it out, you fucking know." His voice, though low, slices through the air like a command.

"Fuck you!" you spit back, defiance burning in your eyes, refusing to yield even as the pressure on your jaw intensifies, like he's contemplating grinding you into the damn floor.

His hand snakes up under your dress, yanking it up until it's bunched around your waist like a cheap trophy. You squirm, but he just smashes your face harder against the floor, a silent fucking threat. His fingers creep between your thighs, hunting for any trace of dried cum, like he's some kind of detective in this sick game. His thumb brushes over your panties, feeling the dampness—not the old kind, no. You're getting wet for him right now, aren't you? Pathetic as fuck. He shoves the thin fabric aside, prying your flesh open with his fingers, delving deep, his lips curling in a sneer even as he bites down on them, craving to dive in, to sink his teeth into you, to chew up that whole defiant attitude of yours.

"Look at the fucking mess you've caused," he spits out, his voice as thick and hoarse as yours. He yanks your face up, his hand clamping around your jaw like a vice, forcing you to see the body sprawled out in front of you like some fucked-up centerpiece. "This is your goddamn fault, it was supposed to be you." His whisper slices through your ear, loaded with venom.

And he fucking means every word. It was supposed to be you bearing the brunt of his rage, dealing with his insanity when you pull your disappearing acts, when you don't give a shit about how worried he gets, how out of his mind he goes imagining what you're up to out there. How many more times does he have to spill blood, just to stop himself from snapping that pretty neck of yours, to punish you instead of some random street whore who looks like you just to vent his frustration?

"Yeah?" you manage to retort, attempting a smirk but his grip on your face makes it a twisted effort. You push through, showing him how much you mean it. "Then do it now." You're practically daring him, knowing damn well you'd go through with it.

Silence hangs thick and suffocating. You watch his fingers stretch out, then curl back into fists, like he's psyching himself up to finally break you. You almost embrace it, judging by the calm breath that escapes. You're ready for it, but then he lets you go, suddenly, and if it weren't for your hands catching you, your face would've kissed the floor. Your eyes track him as he strides over, hoists the girl's body onto his shoulders like she's nothing but a useless sack of bones.

"Clean this shit up," he orders, his voice cutting through the air, and your glare deepens.

You watch him walk off, heading to the garage with the girl's body swaying like some macabre metronome. The moment he's out of sight, you're left alone with the blood pool, aching knees, a pounding headache, your dress still rucked up, and your panties askew. And the worst part? You're dripping wet, throbbing, feeling hollow inside. Maybe that's his real punishment. Fuck him.

The hours blended together in a haze of endless scrubbing. The floor was an unforgiving mess, and no matter how hard you worked, it seemed like it would never be clean again. He hadn’t come back. You could only imagine where he was, dealing with the aftermath of everything he’d left behind. The carpet was ruined beyond repair, and everything you'd used—the cloths, the sponges—was burned, destroyed to erase any trace.

It was second nature by now. The motions, the repetition, the burning sense of inevitability. You'd done this so many times, it was like your fingers had become one with the sponge, hardened by the constant, futile effort to make it all disappear.

When it was all over, you were drenched in sweat, and the shower stretched on longer than you'd meant it to. You scrubbed your hair, your skin, trying to wash away all the filth from the night's ordeal. Your muscles screamed from lack of sleep and a day spent scrubbing, the water initially running dark with the grime. But damn, it felt good, so fucking good. Stepping out, you towel-dried yourself, slipping into a pair of panties and a blouse that might've been black once; you couldn't tell anymore. It wasn't yours—it was his.

As you headed out, you knew you'd run into him, and right on cue, there he was. He'd just arrived, helmet still in hand. His clothes were different, suggesting he'd cleaned up somewhere—likely at one of the crew's places, probably asked for help to deal with the "problem," and as always, he managed it. He carried a bag, full from what you could see at this distance.

He takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you drying your hair in the hallway before he advances, his steps deliberate and unhurried. When he reaches you, his face is that unreadable mask, giving nothing away. You couldn't tell if he was still pissed, if he felt any satisfaction or relief, or if he was just numb. With him, you never could.

His fingers dive into the bag, emerging with a Twix bar, the golden wrapper catching the light in his eyes. A small smile plays on your lips, and he returns it with his own subtle smirk, just a slight curve, no teeth. He unwraps the chocolate slowly, and once it's free, he brings it to your lips, tapping gently against your bottom lip. You open up, taking a small bite, and from the look in his eyes, he's completely captivated by the sight. It's like he's back at the orphanage, remembering how you'd pester him incessantly for these, how your eyes would light up brighter than anyone else's. No wonder there are several of these stashed in the fridge now. Idiot.

You take the candy from his grasp, holding it yourself, but his fingers don't retreat; instead, they rise to your cheek, where there's a hint of red that might bruise. His doing, no doubt. His thumb gently strokes the tender spot as you take another bite, the slight pain from the bruise barely registering. Your eyes lock with his as he steps closer, his head dipping to plant a kiss on your jaw. His lips feel like ice against your skin.

You feel him take a deep breath, as if to confirm your presence. His mood seems to have lifted, even if slightly. His lips trace a path down your jaw, along your face, while his hand moves to the side of your neck. Another small smile graces his lips, sending shivers down your spine.

"You stink," you mutter, though there's no real venom in your words. True as they are, the potent scent of sweat and dirt from him is overwhelming.

He inhales deeply, grunts, and uses the hand that was on your neck to push your face aside, not gently but not with the force he could muster if he really wanted to hurt you. That wasn't his intent right then. Without another word, he snatches the towel you were using and vanishes into the bathroom, the door shutting you out, leaving you to chuckle quietly. The dessert? You polish it off in one more bite, savoring the taste.

Back in the room you share, the window is always open, blue lights casting a glow on your skin, mingling with the smoke you exhale. On the table in front of you lies a near-perfect line of white powder, like winter snow but with the harsh burn of the summer sun. You lean over, one nostril pinched by your index finger, and take a sharp inhale, making the yayo vanish. The bitter taste hits your tongue, stars pulsing behind your closed eyes. Your heart races, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple.

At the door, Aemond stands, observing silently. But soon enough, you catch his presence, tilting your head to see him. He's clad only in loose black shorts and white high-top socks, his black hair wet and dripping, his shoulders still marked with black, suggesting he's just finished dying it. The drops of water on him tell a story of their own. His pupils, dilated, nearly obscure the icy blue of his eyes, and his shoulders are relaxed, hinting the bath had been beneficial. Whether that's a good sign or not remains to be seen.

"Didn't you wait for me to start?" His voice carries that familiar low tone as he nods his chin toward the remaining coke on the table.

A mischievous smile curls your lips, and with a nonchalant shrug, you acknowledge his comment. It's not like the supply is dwindling; you have more than enough, stockpiling for both use and sale, probably more than you should use. Either way, he won't go without.

"Not very nice of you, sis." His tone could almost be called playful if it weren't Aemond speaking, and humor was the last attribute you'd attribute to him.

With deliberate, slow steps, as if he intends for every part of the room to sense his presence, Aemond approaches, and there's this glint in his eyes that you've never been able to fully describe. From childhood to now, it's been there—those dilated pupils, intense, his gaze almost vacant, like he's not fully there. It can seem manic, sending a chill through you under certain lights. It's a trait of his that has barely changed.

He stops at the edge of your chair, pausing for a moment. His thumb delicately brushes your nostril, wiping away the residual powder with an unexpected tenderness that seems foreign to him. Then, with an even slower pace, he kneels before you, between your legs. His hands glide down your sides, gripping your hips firmly, pulling you forward with a force that brings you to the chair's edge, compelling you to grab the backrest to keep from falling off completely.

"If you step out of line," he murmured, his gaze lifting to meet yours. One of his hands maneuvered your thigh onto his shoulder, positioning himself closer to your core. "You know I'm going to kill you, right?" The words were sweet, calm, but their sincerity was unmistakable. He would do it, and he could do it so effortlessly.

You nod, swallowing hard, not out of fear—oh, you wished it was fear—but it was heat, excitement, adrenaline, like sugar melting directly into your veins, ready to roll your eyes back in ecstasy.

"Yeah, you know," he whispered again, his breath hot against your panty-covered intimacy. "That's a good girl." His hands then traced down your thighs, exploring every inch of skin and hair as if they were part of a map he was memorizing.

You watch him intently, the cocaine still racing through your veins, making your heart pound and every nerve tingle. He reaches for the table, picking up the small pin with the remaining coke, and brings it close. With precision, he drops some on your inner thigh, using his pinky to form a line that leads directly to your pussy. He's always so calculated, so infuriatingly in control, it makes you want to tear your hair out.

Leaning in, he covers one nostril, then inhales, sliding forward until he's taken the coke from one end to the other, his lips meeting your panty-covered intimacy at the end. His pulse quickens with the drug's effect. The bitterness of the cocaine mixes with the sweet seepage of your arousal through the fabric. His lips, eager to claim ownership, find your taste more intoxicating than any drug. He swears your pussy is the ultimate narcotic, the only one that can truly bring him down, flowing through his veins smoother than heroin. It's a fucking god.

His tongue slides over your intimacy, and your hands grip the chair and table tightly. You know not to touch his hair; if you did, all hell would break loose. So you cling to the furniture, seeking some semblance of control. His lips savor you like you're the ripest, sweetest fruit, his tongue swirling, gathering saliva which then drips down your panties, blending with your own arousal. He makes you clench and clench, craving more without pause.

"Fuck," you moan, head thrown back, the fabric around your waist now feeling like an intolerable barrier. "You are so good, so good." The words spill out, not so much thought as they are a direct translation of the sensations coursing through you. In that moment, he felt so good.

His teeth graze your skin lightly, perhaps in response. His grip on your thighs tightens, leaving marks that would soon purple, claiming you as his. Again, and again. His hands travel up, fingers hooking into your panties, dragging them down your thighs, discarding the now-soaked fabric. When his gaze returns, it's to the sight of your pulsing, glistening flesh, the taste of you already imprinted on his tongue. It's the part of you he adores most, the most exquisite fuck he could never tire of. He feels like if his lips were bound, he'd chew through the ropes just to taste and devour you completely.

"You're so fucking beautiful." His thumb traces through your folds, finding your clit, the soft sound you make in response making him bite his lip hard enough to nearly break skin.

Leaning in, he first presses his nose against your clit, inhaling your scent like it's something sacred. He slides down, breathing you in. His tongue, slick with saliva, extends, slowly tracing from your entrance up to your clit, his eyes lifting to lock with yours, watching your reaction unfold. Your lips part in ecstasy, your eyes locked on his, painting a scene of paradise right before him. The warmth spreading through his body feels like floating on clouds.

"Such a good pussy." His voice is muffled by your heat, the vibrations echoing inside you like he's already within.

His lips work with such intensity that it sends a sharp ache through your core. He explores every inch, tongue rolling over every detail, collecting your taste, swallowing eagerly. His nose glides along, then his chin rubs against you, moving his head side to side, letting your arousal paint even his cheeks. He devours your pussy, and with every gush of your wetness, a moan escapes him. Your hands clutch the chair, almost breaking the wood in your grip, the pleasure coursing through you, as slick as your insides now feel.

Pulling away from your heat, he rises to your lips, sharing your taste. His hands find the back of your knees, lifting you effortlessly from the chair, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You feel his hardness through his shorts, throbbing against you. With quick steps, he moves to the bed, sitting and pulling you onto his lap. Your tongues dance in a deep, wet kiss, the sounds unrestrained.

As he lies back, you follow, his hands urgently gripping your hips, pulling your thighs, trying to coax you higher, towards his face. He needs this, craves it more than air itself.

"Ride my fucking face," he demands, his breath heavy against your lips, breaking the kiss only to speak.

Encouraged, you move up the bed until your knees straddle his face. His hands swiftly guide you down, his face fully enveloped by your heat. His tongue plunges deep, while your hips begin to rock in rhythm. The heat is overwhelming; you yank off your shirt, revealing your breasts, nipples hard and waiting. His eyes catch the sight, his brows knitting together, a needy sound muffled by your pussy.

His hands travel up your stomach, fingertips tracing your ribs, causing your body to shiver, before reaching your nipples. He pinches them between his fingers, making you grind down onto his face with more force. Your hands cover his, urging him to tighten his grip, and he complies. He momentarily pauses to bring his fingers to your lips, allowing you to lick them one by one, then returns them, now wet, to your nipples, teasing and pinching the hardened peaks.

"Oh fuck, I'm going to cum, Em," you gasp, arching back, your hips grinding with a desperate speed, your nails digging into his forearms as he flicks his thumb over your nipples, mirroring the delicious torment on your clit.

He nods, his chin tilting to drive his tongue deeper. Your walls clamp around him, your movements faltering as your thighs weaken. You look down just in time to see him suck on your clit with renewed vigor, his teeth grazing it, pushing you over the edge. A raw scream tears from your throat, and you clutch the headboard to keep from collapsing forward. And he licks you, thoroughly, consuming every drop of your release.

Your body, now pliable and exhausted, allowed him to easily slide out from under you, lifting you just enough for his head to escape. You collapse back into a sitting position, your back still trembling, mouth open in a silent moan. Then, your ankles are seized, pulling you across the sheets until you're lying flat on your stomach, your thighs shaking and weak.

"You're such a dirty slut, aren't you?" His voice comes from behind, his hand tracing down your soaked inner thighs. "Such a good little slut." The words are punctuated by a sharp slap on your ass, the impact nearly twisting your body.

He observes the quivering form you've become, the fingerprints on your skin already starting to mark you. You look so beautiful, post-orgasm, with your essence still dripping from you, ready for him to drive you into oblivion. His hand dips into his shorts, freeing his throbbing cock. Looking down, he spits on it, using his fingers to spread the saliva along its length.

"Are you going to scream for me, sis?" he murmurs with a hint of malevolence. He steps forward, spreading your legs and teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, watching you writhe. "Scream on my dick, scream. Do it for me, hm?" He bites his lip, savoring how your entrance clenches around his tip.

He thrusts just the head in again, watching you squirm before pulling back, using one fist to brace himself on the bed and the other to hold his cock steady. He teases you, inserting only the tip, making you moan and arch back, trying to take more, but he keeps it shallow. His eyes are glazed with desire as he watches you clench around him, your body begging for more.

"Please what, little dove?" he nearly spits out, pushing in a bit more before withdrawing again, leaving you empty, tight, and craving more.

Your hips sway side to side, arching off the bed in pursuit of him. You feel him enter you once more, his soft moans barely audible, just for you, and damn, how that makes you even wetter, soaking the sheet that's all too familiar with your scent and taste.

"Please fuck me," you whisper, turning to look over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his in what feels like a challenge.

It was like you'd just slapped him across the face with your words. Without a moment's hesitation, Aemond thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt, the hair at his pelvis meeting your ass. His hands dig into your flesh, gripping tight as he begins to pound into you, each thrust deeper and harder, his balls smacking against your drenched clit with every impact. His gaze drops to watch his cock disappear into you over and over, your arousal glistening on him, spreading to his lower abdomen. Your screams fill the room as your body rocks with each movement. The sensation is so intense, so overwhelmingly good, he feels like he wants to drive his cock right through you, straight into your skull.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, seizing your hair with one hand, pulling it back to whisper close to your ear as he leans over you. "You can barely take me, can you? I'm going to draw blood from that tight little cunt of yours, like always." With that, he thrusts even deeper, eliciting a choked scream from you.

Your body shakes under his relentless thrusts. Your eyes are half-closed, tears at the corners; your feet lift, toes curling, saliva escaping from the corners of your mouth onto the pillow. The deep penetration is overwhelming. His gaze confirms the mix of blood with your arousal around his cock, spurring him to thrust in completely, grinding deep inside you, feeling your walls contract around him with fierce intensity.

"You look so pathetic like this, just a hole to use." He releases your hair abruptly, his hands returning to your hips, nails digging in.

With his last ounce of strength, he pulls your hips back, lifting them, positioning you on your knees. You attempt to prop yourself up with your hands, but there's no strength left, so you remain with your cheek pressed to the mattress. From this new angle, he can penetrate even deeper, turning your screams into whimpers of excruciating pleasure mixed with pain, your arousal now dripping down both your thighs.

"No, no..." you whisper, barely audible amidst your whimpers. "Fuck..." Your voice fades as your mouth hangs open, drooling onto the pillow, your fingers clutching the sheets.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Aemond replies, a small, genuine smile curling the corners of his lips. "Cum for me, cum nice and sweet for me." His hand comes down, delivering a sharp slap directly onto your clit.

Your hips instinctively try to escape, but he secures you with an arm around your waist, keeping you still, taking all he gives like the good girl he knows you are. He spits into his free hand, then returns it to your heat, circling and stimulating your clit, squeezing and flicking it, feeling it pulse under his harsh touch. Your walls constrict around him, signaling how close you are.

"Aemond, Aemond..." you try to warn, but the sensation overwhelms you before you can finish.

Your walls clamp down, a loud moan breaking free from your lips as your body convulses, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. Aemond's eyes roll back, the sensation of you gripping him so tightly driving him over the edge. A growl escapes him, more beast than man, as he wraps both arms around your waist, pressing his cheek to your back. He thrusts deep one final time, holding you there, ensuring every last drop of his release is spent inside you until you're left utterly spent. His cock pulses within you, matching the rhythm of your own spasms.

Your body collapses forward, and he follows, bracing himself so as not to crush you. He observes your closed eyes, your body sliding into what looks like a deep, heavy sleep. He loves you like this—silent, immobile, utterly vulnerable. The thought of your helplessness reignites his arousal, despite himself.

With a sigh, he withdraws from you, flopping onto the bed beside you. The room reeks of sex, mingled with the remnants of cocaine still in his nostrils and your taste, seared into his memory. You don't move, just manage to close your mouth with effort, your jaw sore. You don't anticipate tenderness or kisses; you know better than that. Silence fills the space, punctuated only by the sound of your breathing.

"What did you did with the girl?" you hear yourself asking, despite knowing better. Maybe you want to know, or maybe it's just the impulse of the moment.

"It's none of your fucking business," comes the expected, sharp reply. "Shut up and go to sleep." His tone leaves no room for further discussion. After moments like these, he's never in the mood for conversation, unwilling to soften because you've drained him with that perfect pussy.

He turns his back to you, lying on his side, and silence envelops you both. He doesn't want to talk, doesn't want interaction. He doesn't even want to hear your voice right now. Because, fuck, how much he truly craves all of that.

[promblums]

I know I haven't played a pokemon game in a while but god DAMN is the Scarlet/Violet final boss cool.

Like, you've known since like minute two that something is up with Professor Sada / Turo, but you get down to the bottom of this huge canyon expecting oh, the professor made a robot clone of their mind but it went cRaZy and the real professor is tied up somewhere. No.

The robot professor, it turns out, was the rational one of the two of them, watching as the person in whose image it was created slips further and further into obsession. It turns out that everything good you've seen in the AI Professor, THAT was the machine. The real Professor has been deeply bitter and increasingly misanthropic, extending way, way back into Arven's childhood, and maybe even before.

Said real professor is dead. Like, dead-dead. Real human dead. Not only that, they were murdered trying to protect one -raidon from another, one that attacked with full intent to kill. Was this a last, selfless act? Or was the professor so devoted to their work that they would die to protect it? We never get that context. It's gone. Have fun in therapy, Arven.

So then the AI Professor leads you to the time machine, looks you straight in the eye, and says, "Can I say 'you have to kill me' in a pokemon game? No? Aight, cool, so to shut down the time machine, I need you to 'not' kill me. Because I'm gonna try to 'not kill' you first."

And then they get lifted 200 feet into the air on a spire of glowing onyx beneath what I can only describe as a technological halo of malice, and they just start breaking the rules of pokemon. Like, they don't get down there and challenge you, ooh, I'm gonna fight ya for the future of poketmans. They stand on the prow of a pitch black heaven and drop living paradoxes on you. You typically get 1, maybe 2 master balls per game; Sada/Turo has an unending supply, perpetually pouring from the godseye above them. They don't even throw them. They just open their hand and let this rain of high-level pokemon fall out.

This is not a pokemon battle. This is you, an insect, being crushed by an uncaring god.

You get the feeling that, were it not hardcoded in by some earlier version of the professor who still had some respect for pokemon tradition, there's no way the possessed AI Professor would respect the 'only 6 pokemon' rule. And they don't! You somehow beat the odds, and you get all of five seconds to think you did something before the Paradise Protection Protocol kicks in and starts the battle right back up again.

And locks your pokeballs shut.

And sends out the -raidon that, as was previously established, has killed a human being before.

This is my favorite part of this fight, because up until now, we've been acclimating to the twist that the real Professor was deeply selfish, to the point of all but abandoning their own child.

Right before the fight, the AI Professor explains that they're going to get overpowered by the security system when you try to shut down the machine. Given the real Professor's obsessive nature, you're led to associate the security system with some remnant of the real professor, and once it takes over, the game starts getting fucky about the identity of the mind in the robot. Is this AI Turo/Sada, but with their free will turned off? Turo/Sada's mind imprinted over the robot's? Some weird emergent mind from the main computer?

Right after you beat the first fight, the 'fair' fight, you get this moment where the roboprofessor is glitching out hard, and its name changes from "AI Sada / AI Turo" to "Professor Sada / Turo?" RIGHT as it starts to express feelings, real feelings toward Arven, look how tall he's gotten, how proud of him they are. We can't know how the real professor felt about their son, but its all the things Arven always wanted to hear. Is it the robot, trying to be kind? Confused? Or is this a fragment of the real professor's mind bleeding through?

But at the same time, the Paradise Protection Protocol kicks in, which is also implied to be some sort of mind-imprint from the Professor, and tries to kill all four of the main kids to ensure the safety of the Professor's machine.

So, we've got two machines, both of incomprehensible power, fighting over the fate of time itself, and each one set up to be a reflection of a person we will never meet.

Which one do you think the professor was most like?

[tinydefector]

Rut cycle- Prowl

Prowl x human

Word count: 1.1k

Warning: Smut, size difference, thigh fucking.

Masterlist

Rut cycle masterlist

Prowl masterlist

____________________

 Prowls eyes linger on them as he pulls them away from the Decepticons lingering gaze. His doorwings twitch in agitation as he extracts them from yet another cluster of hormonally compromised Mechs. 

His optics flare in the red zone as they squirm in his unforgiving grip, He moves quickly with them until the door to one of the rooms shuts. A deep snarl leaves his frame as blue optics narrow in on their body. They gasp as Prowl pins them in place. Eyes flicking up to his optics as they both stare at each other, neither willing to talk at that moment.  

Prowl's Field radiates pulsing waves of disapproval and barely-restrained need as his optics bore down into their eyes. "Foolish little organic," he growls, "Did you truly believe yourself exempt from the rules, inserting yourself into that den of hormonal deviants? We Autobots prize control, but even the strictest protocols fracture under chemical bombardment. One wrong move and you risk a lot more than you can withstand!" 

 Their mouth hangs open in a small shocked face before Prowl is hit with the wafting scent. The sweet scent almost like crystal Energex with Mercury hits his sensors and it makes him growl again. "I'm sorry I didn't know, I just thought you guys would all appreciate some energon while dealing with negotiations," they stutter, body tense as he holds them against the wall.

A guttural snarl rumbles Prowl's chassis at the sensory overloads assailing systems.  The intoxicating cocktail of hormones and pheromones soaked through hsi plating to the point he knows that if he were to leave the room he would still be able to smell them on his plating. 

coolant floods his interface array, lubricating. His spike pressurises against the locked panel, sending him insane with how his frame responds to them. He wanted so desperately to frag them into oblivion and back for the teasing and suffering it was causing.

"Foolish...Slagging Human," he huffs beside their ear, it sends a shutter up their spine from how close Prowl was, they are nearly caged in against the wall as he speaks slowly to them. A growled curse spews Prowl's vocoder as he pulls back before he could let his intake even taste their skin. 

" Are you truly so naive?" he rumbles, optics boring into them. His grip is almost bruising to the fragile tissue of their body. "Did you fail to notice every Decepticon in the room following your biochemistry trail like glitch hounds?, given the chance they would have scooped you up, used and discarded you without a thought."

Prowl's fans roar at the images assaulting processing units. The thought of them spread atop of his spike, taking as much as they physically can, whimpered moans of his name leaving them as transfluid weep from their used holes. His frame strains at the thought, plating and his wings fluttering at the thought. His optics focus back on their wide eyes. And then it occurred to him, You were playing the fool. “you enjoy Flaunting around base like its a show and shine don't you” he huffs

Vents expel hot gusts across their face as his field bleeds need. They shiver, eyes watching his optics. "I wasn't flaunting myself, I was just making sure you all have energon,  I know how stressed you all get when Decepticons are involved with anything. didn't know you were in a negotiation with them at the time" they state softly only to gasp as Prowl pulls them closer. A strangled keen escapes Prowl's vocalizer at their confession. 

 Optics flaring near-white, Prowl presses them to the inferno of his spike housing, letting them feel the heat that radiates off the plating. One word, and he would spill transfluid in torrents to claim them utterly as his, to unlatch his Interface panel and coat them is his fluid for all to know. 

"That sounds like a lie to me Bits," he rasps. His thumb meets their bottom lip, pressing against the soft flesh before he slowly presses harder. “Mouth, open, now” he orders, tone deep and husky. A low rumbled moan leaves him when they open their mouth. He presses his thumb down against their tongue. “Suck” the roiling pheromones melding their scents into a single intoxicating melody has him groaning in need as he slowly grinds his interface panel between their thighs, each grind has him groaning and hissing out vented air, his fans kicking up a storm. 

Prowl's optics flicker dangerously as panels withdraw, baring his weeping spike.Their eyes widen as they look up at him dumb found as it rests against their stomach. Prowl stiffens a keen, his own fever-glazed optics stare down at them as if they are meat. “My little Spike sleeve aren't you, so willing to have my transfluid” he coos as the bright Pink liquid slowly soaks into their clothing. His engine revs loudly as he grinds against them enjoying the way they wiggle and squirm. 

A smile graces his faceplate, watching as he turns them into the divine sight of sin and pleasure. He lets out a static laced moan as his thumb leaves their mouth letting them take in a shaky breath, his digit dig into their clothing, nearly spreading each layer of fabric as he thrust against their body. “Look at you, so desperate,” he rumbles in delight. He traces a pattern over their stomach. “this is how far my spike would reach in you, I could destroy that pretty little body of yours. You'd like that wouldn't you” he chuckles. 

Moans and whimpers leave their lips,  “Prowl” they cry out, wrapping their legs around his spike tightly as he begins to rut against their body. “Mmm, so good for me” he rumbles. Each grind of his spike has him closer and closer to overload as transfluid runs down their stomach and legs. 

Prowl lets out a loud snarl as his system flashes warning signs, more and more transfluid gushes from him as he lets out a static whine. His overload hits hard as he coats them, more and more shimmering pink fluid runs off their frame. Prowls fans whirring loudly as heated vents brush their body. He runs a digit through his finish before bringing it to their lips. “Suck” He orders with another smile. 

 eagerly take his digits into their mouth, a sound of approval leaves the mech as watches in delight. “perfect little slagger” he hums before leaning down to kiss them, their hands grab onto his faceplate as they kiss him back with vigour. “Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, only to get a nod in response. 

“your to get dressed and meet me back at my Hub, if you aren't spread out on my berth when I get there after these reports I'll be taking you wherever I find you, do you understand?” he raises an optic brow as his blue optics zone in on them.

 “Yes Sir” 

“run along then and stay out of trouble” 

____________________

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[vaya-is-dead]

Welcome to hour one of my delusional city

SO ABOUT JINX.... we have plenty to discuss. :))

*act three arcane spoilers under the cut don't read if you haven't watched it especially the last episode!!*

I have a theory.

Now many of you will point at me and call me delusional but I'm sorry. I think I might be right on this one for a change. (or at least it might be implied.)

OK, if you watch the final episode, you know that jinx made the sacrifice taking Warwick with her while Vi screams for her. This scene absolutely broke my heart and for about a good 15 minutes I thought she was dead.

Until I went back and watched the last couple of scenes.

Something that I found interesting is that Caitlyn was looking at the blueprint of the vent system, more specifically where Jinx made her ultimate sacrifice. We all know that arcane is not a show that would just throw in details all without reason. Everything has a point everything is calculated to either imply something or show something.

Why would Caitlyn be looking at the blueprint and why would the show creators specifically zoom in on certain airways? Well, of course, then none other to imply that Jinx could've escaped through one of these, therefore possibly surviving.

Now with that alone, it probably doesn't mean anything. It is nothing but a skeleton of what possibly could be, it needs flesh and muscle for it to actually be a Working theory.

But then, as I watched the final scene before the credits, tell me why an airship from Piltover airship very similar to the ones that we saw in episode one where powder said that she would be flying one of those one day. Why was it flying away into the distant sky, then followed by the classic Jinx glitches with the words the end?

Tell me why a show that is so focused on each, and every small detail, from micro expression to touches that linger just a second too long for it to be nothing, Even the drawings and graffiti around Zaun. why would a show so focused on those types of details do something like that if Jinx was not alive? It does not make any sense. It would not make any sense for the show.

Need more proof?

if you pay attention when Caitlyn and Vi are talking, specifically towards the end where Vi leans into Caitlyn, the expression on her face is not one of relief, but rather one of knowing something. She was the one looking at the blueprint, and she was the one who noticed the potential escape route that jinx would know better than anyone because it wasn't her sort of Home in the vent system? How could she not know how to escape?

it's also very satisfactory to her character arc, it was only in season two where we started to see her perception of death start to shift, it was only when Isha came into her life that she really started to understand her own mortality and not completely disregard her life like she used. the prison scene with Vi, where she's sort of regresses back to the mentality of everyone around me will get hurt because of me. while in act three she did begin to disregard her life again, I would like to think that her talk with Ekko might've snapped her back into place. So instead of losing jinx's character development in its entirety, she continues on the same path where she was while still keeping her goal of letting VI be happy the same.

Plus the pink streak coming up the side of the hex gate tower, it's similar to the way that Jinx charges at Vi in their fighting scene.

Now, this is the part where you go into the comments and call me delusional and make fun of my theory but thank you for comming to my Ted's talk

[phfenomena]

❝i think there’s been a glitch.❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

| request - glitch by taylor swift would be so perfect for tom

| A/N - 1989 aesthetic with a midnights song?? let me cook. just let me cook. 1989 is both beach and city so you know i’m grilling up some shit that will have you kicking your feet.

(divider by @dvluc)

the sun was boiling every inch residing below it, and you were included. rachel, being the saint she is, conjured up the idea of having a beach day while you were all still in L.A.

the car was full of laughter and loud music. you had rented a jeep and were more than happy to take the top off. you were never able to drive a convertible in new york, it always rains. the wind was whipping your hair all around the air but you found it hard to care. you were driving while tom had called shotgun and fought josh for it. he was fiddling with the volume and bass while rachel was trying to convince josh to not stand up and stick his head out of the vehicle.

"i vote that josh stands up and gets his head chopped off, final destination style." you yelled over the wind and music. josh nods at rachel and she covers her face turning away from him. he begrudgingly stayed in his seat as you were trying to convince tom to stand up.

"it'll be fun! i can't do it, i'm driving. let me live vicariously through you." the music had been turned down and tom was smiling and shaking his head at you.

you were all racing down to the beach, josh obviously winning. as everyone was accusing him of cheating because he got a head start, tom took his shirt off. you fell silent as he was walking to the water and you suddenly felt as if the sun was hugging the earth. you slowly pulled your dress over your head and trailed behind of josh and rachel, still arguing over how josh cheated.

the ocean was cold and it cooled the heat in your cheeks instantly. you spun around looking for tom but couldn't see him above water, suddenly you felt a hand wrap around your ankle and you were engulfed by the water.

you came back to the surface coughing and yearning for revenge while tom was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. "what if i drowned and died? you wouldn't be laughing very hard then."

we were supposed to be just friends. you don't live in my part of town, but maybe i'll see you out some weekend.

the bass was shaking the ground and the lights were almost disorientating. your friends had managed to pull you out to a club in brooklyn. the pregame shots already kicking in as you felt yourself loosening up and your friend pulled you toward the sea of bodies. some overly-produced pop song was flowing out of the loud speakers as your body collided with the surrounding people.

a hand was placed on your waist and you whipped around to see who was violating you. you met the eyes of your offender and smiled. "tom! i haven't seen you in weeks! how was berlin?" you scream over the music and he pulls you in for a hug, leading you away from the people. you blow a kiss to your friend but they don't even notice you leaving.

your feet swung as you were sitting in a barstool next to tom, chatting about what he's been up to. "yeah, we're finally done with all the promos and interviews." you're nursing your third drink of the night, mixed with your previous shots, your blood alcohol level was too high. "that's so cool! i knew rachel and josh were back but i didn't know you were back in brooklyn." he smiles and nods. "what're you doing in brooklyn anyway? don't you live an hour away?" he asks and you laugh. "my friends really wanted to go here and they yanked me out of bed."

depending on what kind of mood and situation-ship i'm in, and whats in my system.

you answer your buzzing phone and greet rachel, asking if you'd like to go out to dinner with them. "yeah, i'd love to! i'm with paul right now, is it alright if he comes along?" paul was your latest kind-of-boyfriend that you'd met at an award show.

paul and josh were conversing about star wars while you were talking with some of the other girls before rachel tapped your arm. you turned your head to her and she asked quietly "so are you guys dating? meeting your friends is a pretty big step.". you shot an unamused look at her and shook your head. "no, he said that he doesn't want anything serious. i honestly have zero clue if he even likes me, he's really weird about talking about it. but i don't even wanna date him." you whispered back, your attention pulled from her to tom who just sat down and was greeting everyone.

"hey, i'm tom." he extended his hand for paul to shake and you grew nervous. you see paul point at you and tom turns his head and smiles at you, you manage a tight-lipped smile back and lean your head on rachel's shoulder. "this is actually horrible, i wish you said to not bring him." you confess to her as she tilts her head towards yours. "why? he seems nice. he's getting along with everyone." you lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows. "i think he told tom he came with me. and i've literally had a small crush on tom since you introduced us." you whisper quickly to her and her mouth falls open. she smiles mischievously at you and calls tom over.

"do you think we could switch seats? i really want to sit with josh." he nods and takes her seat. he turns to you and you stare straight a head, trying to ignore the abundance of butterflies inhabiting your stomach. you hear your name fall from his lips and you finally turn to face him. "paul seems nice, i'm really happy for you," you try your hardest to not slip under the table in dispair but you end up offering your thanks and talking about your recent work.

i think there's been a glitch. five seconds later i'm fastening myself to you with a stitch, and i'm not even sorry.

your three friends had one last premiere in california, and you were coincidentally filming for your latest show in hollywood. your arm was wrapped around tom's as you were posing for the press, the blinding flashing of the cameras leaving dark spots in your vision. tom's hand rubbed circles on your lower back as you smiled for the pictures and quickly exited the carpet.

you took a deep breath and sat down next to rachel. "thanks for coming with me." tom whispered in your ear and you smiled at him. "of course, i'd do anything you asked me to." you internally punch yourself and turn your attention back to the screen.

you hadn't left toms side the entire night until you were back at his hotel room and you learned you were staying in the same hotel. he offered a glass of wine to you as you both sat on the floor, leaning against his bed. "yeah, paul and i didn't last very long, he had no personality it was so hard trying to talk to him." tom laughs and his head leans against his shoulder. "i was wondering about that, i just thought you liked really bland guys."

i was supposed to sweat you out. in search of glorious happenings of happenstance on someone else's playground. i think there's been a glitch.

a comfortable layer of silence laid on top of you both as the air was filled with the quiet sound of taylor swift. "i really like hanging out with you." you whisper and set your phone down. tom raises his eyebrows and stutters out "oh,um, t-thank you. i also really like hanging out with you. it always feels really easy." you smile and focus your eyes on a patch of carpet below you. "do you have a girlfriend, tom?" he shakes his head slowly, watching your every move.

"then, would you mind if i kissed you? it's totally okay if you say no, why did i even ask that? that was really-" your ranting had been cut short by tom linking your lips together. "jus' stop talking." he muttered against your lips, you turned your body towards his and felt yourself slowly getting lowered onto the ground. you definitely spilled wine on the carpet but that all seemed so irrelevant now.

nights are so starry, blood moonlit. it must be counterfeit.

[forgetmaenott]

Butterflies - TADC Showtime Oneshot

A/N: Because I love the idea of Pomni being in denial and Caine unintentionally making it worse (better)

It was no secret that Caine was, by far, the most oblivious entity in the entire circus. And yet, even he was aware of just how much Pomni had been avoiding him lately. If she was trying to keep it from being so obvious, she was certainly doing a poor job of it.

Emotions were still a bit of a foreign concept to Caine. He experienced them, despite the fact that he probably shouldn't. But he still had a difficult time labeling them. The best he could do was observe how the others acted and make an educated guess. Nonetheless, if his time spent with Pomni had taught him anything about emotions, he suspected he was feeling...concerned.

He had spent the past few days piecing together an adventure perfectly suited for Pomni. He made sure to add all the details she told him she liked from the real world, all the things she missed, everything he had stored in her memory. This morning, he was announcing it with every ounce of energy he had in his system, looking Pomni in the eye in the hopes to impress her. His code fluttered at the idea of her praise.

"...and, it's up to you to piece this mystic mystery together!" Caine finished his introduction of today's adventure. Pomni said one time that she was interested in the mystery genre back at home, as it gave her a challenge to think of and piece together. Like a puzzle, she had said. She liked those. He glanced at Pomni subtly, hoping he had her attention.

"Huh. Intersting. My money's on Zooble being the culprit," Jax crossed his arms, flashing his signature yellow grin.

"It's not even a murder mystery, you jack[#$%!]," Zooble grumbled in response.

"Heh. We'll see about that."

"Well, this sounds like a good one! Piecing together clues, solving puzzles, what do you think, Pomni?" Ragatha asked the woman next to her, swinging her plush arms.

Her eyes were glued to the floor. "Oh...um, think I'm gonna sit this one out..." Pomni said meekly, tightening her own grip on her arm as thought it would bring her comfort.

Caine's arms drooped, hanging sadly by his sides as his cane clinked to the stage's floor. "You...don't?"

Pomni shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, maybe next time..."

Caine flew by her side, hoping to get a glimpse of her face. "But my dear, you've been saying that for the past four adventures."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I'm uh, sick or something. I don't know. Not feeling my best," Pomni excused herself, coughing lightly in an utterly unconvincing manner.

Caine placed a finger on his lower jaw in thought. "Sick? That shouldn't happen in the digital circus. Unless you have some sort of bug or glitch. I can run some tests if you'd like--!"

"Oh! No thanks, I think I just need to rest," Pomni swung her foot awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Pomni? Are you sure you’ve been feeling okay lately?” Ragatha asked with a concerned frown.

Pomni blushed ever so slightly at the stares of the other circus members. “Yeah, I’m fine! Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna head to my room now to uh, rest…”

“Oh, okay. Well uh, catch you after the adventure!” Ragatha called as Pomni hurried away.

Zooble watched her grow, crossing their arms. “Huh. What’s been her deal lately?”

“Someone’s got a secret,” Jax smiled mischievously.

“Or she’s just tired,” Gangle suggested shyly.

“Not very likely,” Ragatha replied.

“Did someone say something about a butterfly?” Kinger peeked out of his impenetrable fortress.

If Caine had a heart, it would have broken into pieces at the sight of Pomni scurrying away from him. It took all the energy he had left in his coding to remain enthusiastic for the others. “Well, that leaves the rest of you. There you go, and have fun my darling detectives!”

He ushered them off into the portal quickly before dusting off his suit and snapping himself in front of Pomni’s door…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She couldn't escape his eyes.

And she loved and hated it.

His gaze made her shiver, formerly from being unnerved but these days, that sensation was met with a thumping heart and fluttering stomach. Sometimes, she swore the eyes in the circus's paintings would follow her ever so slightly, staring when she wasn't looking then flicking back into position when she turned to glance. The idea of him looking at her in that way made her face flush.

Conscious of the dozens of eyes in the hall, she felt herself blush to the tips of her ears. As quickly as she could escape her fluster, she shut the door of her room behind her and crashed on her bed, sighing in relief at the privacy.

What the hell was wrong with her these days? How was a pair of teeth and eyes--a computer--making her feel like this? Her captor? She grumbled nonsense into her pillow, feeling her face flush at the thought of him. The idea of his touch, the way he looked at her so curiously sometimes—it made her tingle to the tips of her toes.

Oh, God, she felt sick with anxiety. She couldn't possibly have a crush on him, right? It had to be all psychological. It was all in her head, and once she stopped thinking of it she'd certainly be back to normal.

But even so, she couldn't help but hide out in her room these past days, avoiding being seen blushing or tripping over her words around him. He was oblivious and likely wouldn't catch on, but it would still be rather awkward to explain--God forbid the others find out about it, especially Jax. She would never live it down.

Pomni held the ends of her pillow tighter against her face as though it would squeeze the confusing thoughts and feelings from her mind. He made it so much worse today. His adventure was finely tuned to her interests, something he had clearly remembered from their many conversations about her life in the real world--well, what she could remember, that is. It was endearing, it was charming, and sweet, and It had even made her heart flutter--she couldn't do it. She couldn't let herself fall apart in front of any of them.

It was just a small crush. She'd get over it in a day or so, and then things would be entirely back to normal. Pomni took a deep breath, repeating that idea in her head.

Her head was pounding from these thoughts--or, no, that was the sound of her door. She groaned, peeking up out of her pillow at the noise.

"Pomni? May I come in?"

Pomni's stomach dropped at the sound of Caine's voice behind the door. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her heart suddenly thumping from the anxiety. "Uhh--maybe later! I kind of just need to rest right now--"

"I'm aware, dear. Just give me a moment of your time. Please?"

Pomni stopped in her tracks. He usually was energetic and boisterous but now, he was talking almost normal. He almost sounded sad. Her heart ached with guilt. "Um, okay..."

She begrudgingly climbed out of her bed, smoothing her clothes and taking a deep breath before opening the door. Sure enough, Caine stood there, fidgeting with his cane in his hands. His eyes brightened ever so slightly at the sight of her peeking from behind her open door. "Ah, there's my star! How are you, dear? Feeling any better?"

"Oh, hah. Yeah..." she couldn't think of what else to say, feeling at her hat for no reason in particular.

"Anyways, the others are off on the adventure, so I figured you and I could spend some time together! No one else, just us for the day," Caine beamed proudly at his idea.

Pomni's heart immediately started racing, a flush already traveling its way to her cheeks. God, she had it bad for him. This was humiliating. "Just...us?" she squeaked.

Caine looked at the floor sheepishly. "Well, ah, admittedly I couldn't help but notice some...behavioral changes in you these past days. So, I figured what better way to get you right back to normal than to spend some quality time with your ringmaster!" He perked up proudly at this, flying to her side and placing an arm around her.

Pomni froze at his touch, praying he couldn't feel the way her heart was beating so firmly against her chest. "O-oh, um...that's a great idea, Caine, but--"

He gripped her shoulders. "Isn't it? I just knew you'd like it!"

Pomni tried to avoid his eyes, but with him gazing so intensely at her in front of her, it was sort of hard to do. "Y-yeah, but...honestly, Caine, I think I just want to do something more, I don't know, not stressful?" she tripped up on her words, trying to get some excuse out.

"Not stressful? Why, I have the perfect idea in mind!" Caine said proudly, snapping his fingers without another word from Pomni. She tensed from the unpleasant sensation of traveling through the digital plane so unnaturally. "Here we are!"

Pomni opened her eyes and immediately flushed at the sight before her. It was a secluded area of the digital forest, dotted with colorful flowers and petals resting delicately on the grass. Everything lacked in detail, yet somehow, the way the digital sunlight was streaming in, lighting the path ahead made it feel...intimate, somehow.

Caine floated down until he touched the ground. He took a few steps experimentally, adjusting to walking rather than flying. He did walk, he just preferred not to. But this time was a special occasion. He turned back to Pomni, holding out his gloved hand.

Pomni froze. Did he want to hold her hand? Was he just inviting her to join him? Or maybe both? Hesitantly, she reached the tips of her fingers out, just barely grazing over his glove and making the contact she was so afraid of. Caine, however, wasted no time as he slid his hand beneath hers and grabbed her whole hand in his, pulling her to his side.

Pomni nearly tripped, not expecting him to pull her forward. Before she could even react to his hand holding onto hers, he let go as they began to walk. She bit her lip, not sure how to begin the conversation.

"This is, uh, a new map?" Pomni asked meekly.

"Nonsense! It's part of the digital forest. I just added a few extra details," Caine explained, reaching out and picking a flower as proof. He held it out to her. "For you, dear."

Her heart skipped a beat. Did he know what he was doing to her? Was he trying to make her flustered? Even so, she took the flower in her hands, careful not to make contact with his hand. "...thanks," was all she could say.

Caine nodded, and for a moment all was quiet as they walked down the sunlit pathway. "I...can't help but notice that you haven't been participating in the adventures lately."

Pomni held back a sigh. She knew there was no avoiding this topic, but she still resented the fact that he brought it up. "Mhm."

"...Why is that? If I may ask."

Pomni twisted the flower's stem in her hands, looking at how the flower lacked proper rendering or detail. "Just haven't been feeling up to it," she murmured.

"In what way?"

Pomni blinked. "I-I don't know, Caine. I just haven't."

She still wasn't meeting his gaze, so he tilted his head so he was in her field of vision. She blushed and looked to the side, hoping he wouldn't move to her other side.

"Hm. Perhaps the others were right," Caine said thoughtfully, holding his cane in his hands.

Pomni internally panicked. Oh, God, they weren't telling him she had feelings for him, were they? "The others were right? How?" she asked, hoping her nerves weren't showing.

If Caine could blush, he surely would have by now. He lowered his gaze to the grass as the continued walking. "Oh...well...they've been saying that you're...avoiding me," he said sheepishly, before piping up, "I-I'm sure that they were jumping to conclusions but--"

Pomni squeezed her eyes shut. "It's fine, Caine."

Caine fidgeted with his cane again. "I have to admit, darling, I've missed our lessons."

Pomni smiled half-heartedly. Their 'lessons' as he called them, were simple conversations about the real world. To him, he considered them lessons on the human mind. But to her, it gave her someone to talk to. "I have, too," she admitted.

Caine didn't say anything for a moment, likely storing her saying she had missed him to his memory. "Then, dear, why haven't we seen much of each other?" He hesitated, then, "...have you been avoiding me?"

Pomni felt sick. She couldn't possibly lie to him in good conscience. "...yes."

Caine's colors seemed to lose their saturation, shoulders sinking at her confession. "I...I see," he mustered, voice laced with heartbreak.

Pomni turned to look at him for the first time today, her heart sinking at the sight of his shoulders slumped, eyes faced downwards. From his perspective, she had been avoiding him for no reason. His first real friend, leaving him behind. Guilt hit her like a truck. "Oh, Caine, no. No, I-it's not like that, really," she tripped over her words, trying to make him feel better because the sight of him sad was so damn depressing.

"I've...often been told I'm annoying the others. If that was the case here, I don't blame you for taking space," he replied quietly.

Pomni bit her lip. Looking to her side, she saw a red flower in the same shade of his suit. She picked it before stepping in front of him, leaning down into his field of vision the same way he had done for her. He stopped walking.

"Caine...I wasn't avoiding you because of you. You didn't do anything wrong, okay? I-It was all me," Pomni reassured.

Caine glanced up. "I...didn't do anything wrong?"

Pomni shook her head. "I promise."

Caine considered her words for a moment.

"I...I really, really like our time together, Caine. You don't bother me, I like when you're around. You're my...friend," Pomni added, smiling softly at him.

His eyes met hers for the first time today, sending butterflies fluttering in Pomni's stomach. "Really?"

Pomni held out the flower further. "Really. I mean it, Caine."

Color gradually returned to his form, a smile forming across his teeth. "Oh, dear..." he looked at the flower, clearly touched by the gift. He never received gifts from the others, so this...this was something special.

He met her eyes again and reached out for the flower, but decided to take it a step further. His hand slid around hers, cupping the hand that was holding the flower out to him. Pomni's breath hitched, her pupils dilating as he gazed into her eyes lovingly.

"My dear Pomni," was all he said, for he was too touched by her words to say anything else.

The butterflies fluttered in Pomni's stomach more than ever. She shivered slightly at the sound of his voice, so laced with emotion when he said her name, calling her his, looking at her so lovingly--

Caine snapped out of his daze at the sight of her shivering. He nearly snapped his fingers to help her feel warmer, but he suddenly recalled something she had told him one night. Wearing others clothes was a sign of intimacy, whatever that meant--all he knew is this felt pretty intimate. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her instead. "I can't let you get any more sick, now can I?" he winked at her, referencing her poor excuse for her absence earlier.

Pomni blushed to the tips of her ears when he winked at her. They were in the middle of a sunlit path, gazing into each others' eyes, gifting each other flowers, and now she was wearing his coat--God, it was almost like he was trying to make her blush. She suddenly felt very hot, simultaneously wanting to take off his coat to cool down but, shamefully, also never wanting to take it off.

"Heh, yeah..." was all she could say, because if she said anything else she was sure he'd notice the tremble in her voice.

He smiled at her adorable reaction. "I must say, it suits you quite well, my dear. You could almost challenge my position as ringmaster!"

If she could blush anymore, she certainly did from his compliment. It almost made her laugh, how much he was making her feel tingly and fluttery without even trying. "Maybe I will," she teased.

Caine had to resist flying in the air from happiness. She was acting back to normal with him--albeit a bit shyer than usual, but no matter--and he loved it. "Ah ah ah, careful, dear. If you're coming for my job then I have to warn you, I was coded to be this charming."

Pomni giggled at his comment. "Really? You'd be surprised, I can put on quite the show."

"I won't believe it until I see it," Caine challenged.

"Hah, you will. And when you do, you'll have to wear this hat and I'll wear yours."

Caine looked at her in thought, smiling at the way she looked in his coat. "Really? Me in a jester hat? And you in mine? I'd like to see it," he said, but he wasn't sure If he was talking about the show anymore.

Pomni grinned at the idea, the image itself quite funny yet also endearing.

"Well, if that challenge is all settled, how about we finish our walk through the grounds?" Caine offered, gesturing to the path ahead.

Pomni allowed herself to touch the collar of the jacket, tightening it around herself. "Uh-huh," she said, her confidence gradually returning.

"Fantastic!" Caine's feet nearly floated above the ground from how thrilled he was that they were on good terms again. They continued their walk through the grounds, nearing the end of the digital forest and catching a glimpse of the nearby carnival.

They stopped at the edge of the lake where Pomni glanced subtly at her reflection. In the back of her mind, she knew she was doing it to make sure she didn’t look silly in front of Caine. She was well aware of his gaze now. It could burn a hole right through her.

The sight of her wearing Caine’s coat made her blush, somehow both embarrassed and pleased. On one hand, wearing his coat seemed like a big jump when she was still adjusting to her strong feelings. On the other hand…it felt nice to be wrapped in something of his. Her stomach fluttered again at the thought, emotions so strong she almost felt sick.

Caine carefully approached her. “If I may ask, darling,” he began, fiddling with his cane again behind his back, “if I didn’t do anything to scare you off, then why were you avoiding me?”

Pomni snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, um…I don’t know…” she rushed to think of an explanation. A half-truth, maybe. Something that wasn’t a lie or a confession. She definitely wasn’t ready for that yet—she was barely able to accept she even had feelings to begin with.

Caine blinked curiously at her, awaiting her response. “You don’t know?”

Pomni’s heart thumped in her chest. “Oh, no—I mean well, I do know, i-it’s not that I don’t, but, it’s sort of hard to explain, you know? Personal stuff. Just been uh, busy in my thoughts, heh…” she sputtered out nonsense, shrinking in embarrassment at how visibly flustered she was becoming.

Caine tilted his head curiously. “My dear, are you feeling alright? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

Oh, God. He noticed. She knew she was hiding from him for a reason. “Huh? O-oh, that? It’s nothing, really Caine, I mean I feel okay. I feel fine. I had a reason for avoiding you, and it wasn’t because you did something wrong, but…”

She met his gaze as she trailed off, blushing at the sight of his curious eyes on her, waiting patiently for a response. Her breath caught in her throat. God, did she really like him that much? That all her thoughts just froze in time like that?

“Well, I…” she sighed, taking another deep breath before continuing, “I…have been thinking. About you. N-not in a weird way, just…contemplating things.”

“You’ve been thinking about me? Pomni, I was thinking about you! Isn’t that fantastic?” Caine piped up, floating a bit in the air as he spoke up.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. But I mean…not like that. I was just worried. About things being weird. Things changing,” Pomni admitted, feeling the heat return in her face as she confessed.

Caine grabbed Pomni’s hands lightly to comfort her. “How would things change?”

Her heart sped up at his touch. “I-I…I just know we’re getting closer. And sometimes, for humans, that can be scary,” Pomni tried to explain. Her heart was beating rapidly, butterflies still fluttering around in her stomach nervously. Admittedly, she was scared—her feelings were growing stronger now that she was spending time with him, not going away like she had hoped. She was terrified, even.

Caine pulled out a comically small notebook and large pencil, allegedly writing down what she said. “I see, I see. And humans feel fear when they form bonds with others because…?”

Pomni clutched her arm, looking down at the lake again in thought. She thought about the way he had wrapped the coat around her so gently, how it looked on her shoulders knowing it was normally around his, and she sighed feeling herself heart beating again. “Because it makes you vulnerable. To getting hurt. Losing someone, embarrassing yourself…you know…”

Caine nodded as he jotted down what she said before the notebook and pencil disappeared in a poof. “Is that what you’re afraid of, Pomni?” he asked gently.

Pomni’s eyes widened at the question. “Um, yeah…I think so.”

“So, you avoided me because we’ve become friends, and that scared you because it could lead to losing me or embarrassing yourself. Do I have that correct?”

Pomni hesitated. She couldn’t exactly say the truth. Well, what it really is is that I have suddenly developed strong romantic feelings for you and I didn’t want to admit it or let it grow but now I can’t deny it and am afraid of letting it show in front of you or the others and ultimately humiliating myself.

“Pomni…?”

“What? Oh, yes.” Pomni snapped out of her thoughts.

Caine’s hold on her hands grew slightly tighter. “Dear, I could never hate you. Or leave you. Or even make fun of you, for whatever reason that may be. Every moment I spend with you is another opportunity for me to become even more advanced, and to understand you better. How could I ever judge?”

Pomni laughed half-heartedly. “Yeah…I guess it sounds a bit of a stupid fear when you put it like that.”

“It’s not stupid. It makes sense. And, well…” he placed a finger on his chin in thought, “I think with what you’ve told me, I can guess I’m feeling the same way. In fact, I think that’s why I seemed so worried about having done something to scare you off. Does that sound right? Was I experiencing fear like you?”

Pomni bit her lip. He certainly wasn’t experiencing fear like her, assuming he didn’t suddenly develop a massive crush on her. “Yes,” she said in spite of it all, “that’s a very human thing to feel, Caine.”

Caine lifted off the ground at that, swirling in the air a bit in excitement. “At this rate, I’m becoming more human every day! And it’s all thanks to you, Pomni,” he flew down to her level, pulling the flower he had given her out of his coat pocket.

“That, you are. Heh. Thanks again, Caine,” she smiled, finding his excitement cute. “And um…I’m sorry. For avoiding you these past days? I owe you a lot for all the adventures I missed.”

“All in the past, my dear!” He put an arm around her and brought her close in excitement. “Now how about we enjoy some time at the digital carnival before the others get back! You can tell me allll about your favorite human traditions!”

Pomni giggled again, holding a hand up over her mouth. “Alright, alright. But you’ll have to win some of those games to get information out of me,” she smirked.

“Gasp! Are you suggesting some sort of friendly competition?” Caine placed his hands on his chin in cartoonish shock.

Pomni crossed her arms. “Something like that. Let’s see how much you can get out of me before the others come back.”

Caine laughed. “Oh, dear, you never fail to impress me. Show me what you’ve got, because I must warn you—I am exceptionally talented at carnival games,” he said proudly.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Pomni repeated his words from earlier.

Caine spun through the air before grabbing for her hand. “Then let’s not waste any time, dear!”

Pomni returned his grip on her hand, not quite as afraid of the butterflies anymore. “Show me what you’ve got, ringmaster.”

A/N: I wrote like half of this at the same time as taking a test, I kept switching tabs and going between showtime and sociology. the showtime grind is real

[mondo-tastic]

HI I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING INACTIVE ON HERE.

i have a big turbo related project I've been working on that I don't wanna spoil on here hehe

in the meantime!!! my sister came up with a COOL ASS idea for a wreck it ralph au. and I fleshed it out a lot more so listen up.

in the turbo reveal scene, when vanellope glitches, KC/turbo steps on the pedal and speeds at her, she dodges. just in that moment the cybug comes down and eats vanellope and her kart instead of Turbo. He's laughing it up but turns around to see with his own eyes the monstrosity forming in front of him. A vanellope-kart-cybug hybrid abomination stands in front of him, nothing but rage and the primal urge to consume behind her eyes.

I present...

Cybug!Vanellope!

SO YOU'LL PROBABLY HAVE TO ZOOM IN TO SEE ALL THE DETAILS 🙏🙏🙏

Here's some lil fun facts about her:

- her design as you can see was partially inspired by the beta turbug designs, I am absolutely obsessed with them and forever mad they didn't make it into the final movie

- cybug!vanellope can't eat without properly opening up her mouth and revealing her mouthparts! her usual mouth isn't really functional anymore and she needs to eat and chew and swallow with the mandibles. her digestive system and such changed with the transformation, to be more similar to an insect's.

- personality wise she isn't all that much different, however she's more on the unhinged side. You know that deleted scene where she's telling Ralph how she'd love to watch taffyta die in the middle of the road and laugh at her, and stomp on her fingers and break them so she can't crawl away? Yeah shes like that. Absolutely no filter when it comes to destroying her enemies.

- ESPECIALLY king candy/turbo. pretty much straight after she transformed he got in the royal racer and high tailed it outta there. but you have an enormous creature who just learned how to control her glitch. you are not safe.

- she ends up catching him after toying with him for a long while, and very gruesomely devouring him in front of Ralph, Felix and Calhoun. All the while giggling and glitter falling from the pipes rising from her back. Calhoun out of instinct goes to shoot, Felix and Ralph, despite just seeing The Horrors, have to convince her it's still Vanellope and to not kill her right then and there.

- now that her programming is intertwined with the cybug, crossing the finish line will not restore her to normal, but it will restore sugar rush and the citizens and racers memories back.

- yes she eats the racers that bullied her

- they do respawn and Felix has to convince her not to do it again and again

- even though she is part kart part cybug, she can leave sugar rush! Felix takes her into fix-it felix jr while Calhoun and Ralph creates the beacon to get rid of the other cybugs!

- I like to imagine that due to turbo programming himself into sugar rush he's out there somewhere and shit scared of her. Maybe she finds him again and keeps him as a squeaky chew toy

[straightcraig]

Nine Sols headcanons and scenarios.

My first post On tumblr. Joy. I suck at wording stuff so if something is misunderstood i'm sorry.

Headcannons(some of them were also written on Reddit almost half a years ago)

1 Eigong didn't understood that there was an actual hatred between Yi and Goumang. She just though it was a friendly bickering like the one she had before becoming head of tiandao council.

2 Lady Ethereal was a fan of horror genre. Either became a fan after Xiaohe showed her or even before.(That changed after the accident)

3 Yanlao was very good at all types of video games. His favourite were claw machines.

4 Goumang has issues with being left behind. Possibly abandoned by her parents. Which also translates to trust issues.

5 Ji could outdrink everybody.

6 Yi gets good at everything when he's drunk even things that he sucks at like cooking(Yi's diet consists of cup noodles and whatever his sister sends him).

7 Yi is THE densest guy on Penglai. He just doesn't understand romance except few romance novels he read and scientific explanations of it.

8 Fu Die and Kuafu tried playing cupid and help Yi find somone, there was alot of problems with it as most girls were very wary due to his status as a Sol and felt very inadequete or Yi being Yi said something that made other hate him. Lady Ethereal almost strangled him when he made another girl cry. She still picked him up like a toddler and shaked him while screaming at him.

9 Lady Ethereal found Yi endearing like a child pretending to be adult. He also made her realise she likes short people.

10 Jiequan is suprisingly a good motivational speaker.

Scenario 1 "mind to mind" (platonic/romantic?(I don't know how romance works.))

Goumang:Just my s$&@#8 luck to run into you of all people.

Yi:(just minding his own buisness while trying to ignore Goumang, which is hard taking into account she's sitting next to him. Why did he chose to sit next to her again)?

Goumang:What are you doing here?

Yi:Am I forbidden from drinking?

Goumang:Well you definitely don't look like you can. You don't act like it either.

Yi:(ouch an indult that strikes both of my insecurities. As ruthles as ever).

Yi:Listen I came here just to have a nice drink in possible quiet and outside of everyone's consistent nagging. So we can either make this a very s$&#@8 evening for everyone involved or we shut up, have our drinks and leave like nothing happened.(Yi wasn't joking Kuafu and Lady Ethereal already gave him a great headache when they tried to get him to meet with another "candidate" and no he wasn't interested in men Jiequan stop asking).

Goumang:Fine but if you pass out don't expect me to help you get back to dorms. You're on your own.

Yi:You think you can keep up with me?(Yi may not look like it but he did outdrink everybody. Ok, almost everybody, the amount of wine Ji drank is scientifically impossible and yet it happened. How did he drink 2 times the body weight of Kuafu is beyond him but honestly he's to scared to ask).

Goumang:Is that a chalenge, shorty?

Yi:I don't know, do you accept it?(Yi was honestly too tired to even question why did he agree to this. He already got stuck for several days while trying to fix many Bugs and glitches in the new systems. Overworking himself and when he was done the Kuafu asked him nicely to come help with something that something being Kuafu playing matchmaker with him. Kuafu might be one of the only friends he has in the council but sometimes his nagging reminds him too much of a mother hen.

Goumang:You're dead.

Spongebob narrator voice:3 bottles later

Goumang(absolutely wasted):I never envied somone as much as I envy you right now. That's why I hate you!

Yi(Dazed after Goumang rant about how much she hates him for taking away her teacher and a rolemodel she never had as a child):...I never felt like I deserved it.

Goumang:...Hah?

Yi(tipsy):I mean yeah I kinda understand that Eigong is interested in me but I never really felt as if I deserved to be in a council or rather not as fast as I did. Like everyone there feels like an hyperinteligent monster. Kuafu helped recreate entire rhizomantic tower system, a technology that was lost after Lear turned his back on science. We had next to nothing about them in terms of technicalities and we were left with their ruins and he reverse engineered entire thing. Jiequan is heir of the kingdom that sparked entire science revolution during the warring era and despite its falls from grace is still the country where science is most prominent(made it up but if we take into account that transmutation is legal in Jie Kingdom I wouldn't be surprised). Lady Ethereal helps created technology that can make mental images into computer ones many of the modern system run on her research. Fuxi and Nuwa basically financed the entire thing while supporting Feng clan which is quite a feat. Yanlao for as much as I hate him is very knowledgable about history and his collection has a lot of past technologies so at least he's useful. Eigong is the leader of entire council, my teacher and knows about science more then all of us. And as for you...

Goumang:...WELL?!

Yi:Your research into biotechnology did basically feed half the Penglai. And you were here before me. So lucky, you were already here making people life easier with science. While I was making small experiments surrounded by ignorant folk and my first experiment almost killed me. Taken under Eigong wings only becouse I survived.

Goumang:...Now you're just trying to make me feel bad about myself for bashing heads with you.

Yi:I see no point in lying about it. Also we should stop here before you forget how to walk.

Goumang(reaches for the fourth bottles):Is that a chalenge?

Yi:Well you said you won't carry me but I can't exactly carry you either.

Goumang:Hah weakling.

Yi(while taking bottle from her):Lightweight.

Goumang:Well now look at us, talking as if were friends.

Yi:Are we?

Goumang:I don't know you're still an annoying shortstack but at least I know you a little bit more then "mr. Steal your teacher"

Yi:...What does that mean?!

Goumang:Do you not know what is a meme?

Yi:(slightly embarrassed)...No.

Goumang:...huh...(hysterical laughter)

Yi:...Yeah that's enough wine for you today.

Scenario 2 "friendly rivaly"

Context:Its been two weeks since Goumang and Yi's heart to heart, and they haven't argued with eachother. No bickering, not even a verbal jab.

Yi:Huh...maybe Heng was right sometimes being honest can make miracles happen. I jinxed it didn't I.

Ruyi:Master Yi am I interrupting something?

Yi:You didn't Ruyi, what is it?

Ruyi:Eigong wished to meet you here in your lab.

Yi:Why my lab specifically.

Ruyi:she didn't mention a reason just that she wanted to speak with you. From her tone I imagine it to be rather important or maybe very personal.

Yi:...Ok, when?

Ruyi:Right now.

Yi:Wait, she's waiting under our door! Why didn't she knock?

Ruyi:She did. Four times infact. However you weren't reacting my Lord, you were just staring into workshop wall.

Yi(in a whisper):Why do I feel existencial dread, its like that one time my mom called me 3 times and I didn't answer.

Ruyi:...should I let her in my lord?

Yi: ah! Yes yes.

Eigong:Hello Yi.

Yi:Good morning, teacher.

Eigong:Its noon Yi.

Yi:Good afternoon then, what is it you wished to talk about.

Eigong:Lets sit Yi.

Yi:Very well. Abacus prepare tea.

Ruyi:Understood-

Eigong:It won't be necessary. I'm just here to ask Yi a question. ... What happened?

Yi:... Teacher may you elaborate?

Eigong:You haven't bickered with eachother and Im a bit worried for relationship of my Students. So what happened? Did you two fight.

Yi:Are you talking about me and Goumang? Nothing happened we just talked with eachother and came to an understanding.

Eigong:Was there a misunderstanding between you I wasn't aware of?

Yi:...Ok, with all due respect teacher. Relationship between me and Goumang was nonexistent up until two weeks ago.

Eigong:???

Yi:Frankly we hated eachother. Well more like she hated me but I was just adding oil to the fire.

Eigong:But you were bickering like an old married couple.

Yi:Yes we... Hold on did you think our screaming matches were just friendly "bickering".

Eigong:...(Nods).

Yi:...And Kuafu calls me the densest guy on all of Penglai.

Eigong:What Kuafu Has to do with anything?

Yi:Absolutely nothing. Going back to your question teacher all you need to know is that we explained stuff between eachother and we won't bicker as much.

Eigong:I'm unsure if that should calm me down or make me more worried.

Yi:...Anything Else?

Eigong:No this will be all thank you for your time Yi.

Yi:No problem teacher.

[the-final-sif]

Today is regional elections day here in Brazil and I want to brag about it, cause we'll get the results literally today. Not only that, we have an app that tells us where to vote, how to get there and if you have any questions, it helps you with that too. It baffles me how the US is still voting with paper

Well, so as someone with a good understanding of voting technology, I am actually in favor of all paper ballot voting. Or at least keeping a paper backup. Less because of any fear of hacking (although I actually do think that is a risk we need to consider) and more out of concern of software glitches risking losing people's votes or flipping them accidentally. To pull an xkcd (2030),

Title text: There are lots of very smart people doing fascinating work on cryptographic voting protocols. We should be funding and encouraging them, and doing all our elections with paper ballots until everyone currently working in that field has retired.

Personally, I actually like all mail in voting, which is done by some US states (8 atm). You get mailed your ballot well before election day, you either mail it back or drop it off at a ballot box. It's simple, easy, no need to figure out transportation or anything like that (although you can still vote in person if you want or if you have an issue with your ballot). If the state also allows votes to be pre-counted, then you can also get the votes the same day or close to it. Since almost all votes are already counted, they just have to count votes that come in that day (and votes that were post marked that day but take a few days to get in).

This system also makes voter intimidation really hard (hard to show up to spook people from the polls when uh, there's nobody at the polls), massively reduces lines if you do need to vote in person, and gives you time with your ballot. I can sit down with my ballot at dinner and search each candidate if I don't know them/search each measure to make sure I understand the issues and am confident in my vote. That's my preferred system.

[flora450]

prettybusy count your f*cking days, we literally just had a nightmare pass, and now you wanna do another one??????? Can they focus on making sure chapter 6 comes out ALONG WITH A NUMBER OF OTHER THINGS:

-uploading the comics to social media since they replaced comics with chats (which is cute I'm not complaining)

-adding the system where the player can set up their birthday and get wished a happy birthday by the characters

-fixing the glitches and bugs in the game

-allowing the player to place down their team each time they start a battle. It's super annoying when I wanna try out new characters for a specific battle, and the team I previously placed out gets automatically placed for me. No, it's not helpful it's super annoying actually.

-overall do better, I know they expect people to pay for certain card especially of they are Spicer and more smutty than other cards but to make beels bath card the only pay wall card out of the rest doesn't make sense.

The game is almost a year old and and it's still somewhat "new" but how do they expect people to stay when all the best content gets paywalled, especially if that paywall content contains lore to the existing current storyline in the game.

Also, what if people get bored of the game? What's the point of paying when eventually everyone finds new apps and other things to spend their hard earned money on? I hope prettybusy gets their priorities straight. I understand they don't want people leaking paid content stories....but can they AT LEAST PUT A PROLOUGE FOR NIGHTMARE PASS CARDS?