#you can fucking determine functional groups!!

[queer-reader-07]

i learned about IR spectroscopy today and it's so so cool and i think we're doing a lab with it next week and oh my god i will be insufferable about it

[soarrenbluejay]

Supervillains for a community. (Well, except those jerks over in Gotham, insular lot, but they’re they’re one problem) Of course they do- supervillains are a group defined by strong opinions and a willingness to see them through, often with a healthy dash of societal failures and trauma as a catalyst.

The fentons, while not active even on the online message boards, are well known and explosive when they do show up, full of fascinating insights and hours long rants on mad science on hair pin turns courtesy of that ADHD attention span. Bit of the cryptids you feel honored to bump into kind of deal. Besides, like a good quarter of the community as it aged, they’d settled down and had kids (not necessarily in that order) and taken it very seriously! Out in the middle of nowhere, where even the most fearsome government outpost members, the local branch of the IRS, quake before them in fear. Out of the way.

Reveal gone okay-ish, Danny moves to Gotham still to get some air bc now things are Akward and he landed that engineering scholarship which is loads better than any other college would give him with his track record. So- the mysterious Fenton children are finally crawling out of hiding! Everyone is psyched! And roll in to Gotham en masse to witness the fireworks!

Except Danny is Determined To Be Normal. He’s had enough of the throwing himself into harms way shit for a lifetime- he wants to be free to peacefully built Rube Goldberg machines and unintentional increasingly complex bombs to his hearts content. JAZZ, on the other hand- the coveted token Normal One, has finally snapped! She’s watched her baby brother she practically raised throw himself into danger over and over and could do nothing, and now that she’s exposed to this whole network of superheroes outside of small town Amnity, some of those uglier emotions are coming out. And boy is she pissed! And can’t afford to show it much while filing the paperwork to have Arkham legally razed to the ground!

See I love this idea of like, niches in superhero society. A villain the heroes know they can plop their kiddo down with for an exciting afternoon brawl while they take care of a particularly grisly case and come back to a few hours later ranting about some new life lesson and a new move they really want to try. A villain who has a functioning moral compass despite their somewhat batshit long term goal and you can contact to fuck with another villains’s plan so they can laugh at them and you can have an easy afternoon. One who pries up hostile architecture and fills in pot holes, idk man. Get creative here, there’s such potential!

So Jazz becomes a Training villain- someone the heroes know their sidekicks will walk away from in a fight 100% of the time, usually with some new lesson to ponder and only a couple of bruises. Sometimes even snacks!

She also absolutely ambushes mentors to check that they’re worth the kiddo, which they appreciate once they get over being jumped in a dark alley by a 7 foot Amazon trained force of nature. They are not used to being on that side of the jumping, it’s a little unnerving.

(Yes, she low key adopts Shazam upon checking in with him on cursory ‘is the main hero of this city and asshole’ checkin. Yes, the super clones get yoinked out from under Superman’s negligent thumb to go have a blast with Ellie. What about it?)

This however only encourages more assorted weirdos to crawl out of the woodwork. It’s not often one of their own forfeits their potential spot for the running of the coveted Most Normal I Swear prize, but when they do it’s bound to be good! But jazz is off hounding various heroes and punching the faces in of pedophiles and shit whenever there’s no cape within easy reach, and so is a mite bit harder to contact than Danny, who has innocently gotten an apprenticeship under a clockworker for access to their workshop and is gleefully going about doing nerdy shit with great abandon.

Plus this is Gotham. No one gives a shit if someone in the Mad Alchemist uniform and still smoking from their latest experiment pokes their head in a window to bother the local shrimp teen- none of the usual social rules apply, everyone’s crazy here! So everyone drops any and all attempts at masking and just acts their genuine unhinged selves, much to the alarm of the Bats and frustration of Danny.

Bc he cannot get these mfers to go. Away. Even liberal use of the creep stick has little effect when the interloper is calibrated for an opponent with super speed or laser vision or whatever, and he’s trying to maintain his guise as a Normal College Student Do No Investigate.

So he calls in the big guns. He’s not super active in the supervillain kids group chat ever since things in amnity calmed the fuck down post becoming King and then immediately using a loophole that says he will not take the throne until he is grown, as defined by finishing learning his trade a la the medieval standards Pariah set up. So he can just take his sweet ass time with his graduate degree and out of inter dimensional bull shit that much longer! Point is, he hasn’t taken the chance to rant over there in a while, so his Crazy friends are getting a lil worried.

The change to come over and shout at their batshit crazy but (mostly) well meaning parent AND see Danny? Score!

The bats, however, are getting awfully suspicious about this one kid that villains from all over the country are flocking to, especially young and upcoming ones as of recently! And he’s acting his engineering course- all the worst rogues are known to have flown through their PhD studies prior to Cracking. They seem to have a real problem on their hands with this Fenton guy.

[prokopetz]

Code Green

A game for 3–7 players, about being where you're not supposed to be.

Last night, you were suspended in a tube of brightly coloured goo in an underground research facility, operated by an organisation whose three-letter initialism's meaning is strictly need-to-know. This morning, someone noticed your tube was empty. Nobody has determined how that happened yet, and you're not inclined to stick around until they figure it out!

Or, in other words, it's been nearly a whole week since I got that massive revision to Space Gerbils out the door, and apparently my brain has decided that's enough of a break. This thing was written start to finish in under 12 hours, so let the circumstances of its authorship guide your expectations. Special thanks go once again to Caro Asercion, whose micro-RPG Dwindle introduced me to the design space I'm fucking around with here. Go buy their stuff.

Anyway:

What You'll Need

Code Green is a tabletop RPG for one game moderator (GM) and up to six players. Each player will need a copy of the Profile Grid, below, as well as three tokens of some sort: dice, coins, beads, etc. You'll also need at least five six-sided dice (for the whole group, not per player, though it's fine if each player has their own set). If you're using dice for tokens, it's recommended that the dice you plan to roll be visually distinguishable in case they land on someone's Profile Grid.

Rolling Dice

There are two ways you'll be asked to roll dice in this game: rolling d66, and rolling a dice pool.

To roll d66, roll a six-side die twice, reading the first roll as the "tens" place and the second roll as the "ones" place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66. For example, if you rolled a 3 and then a 5, your result is 35. You may also be asked to flip a d66 roll; to do this, take your result and swap the digits without re-rolling. In the preceding example, if you flipped your roll of 35, your new result would be 53.

To roll a dice pool, pick up the indicated number of six-side dice, roll them, and take the highest individual result. Duplicates have no special significance. For example, if you rolled a pool of three dice and got a 2, a 4, and a 4, your result would be 4. If you would ever roll a pool of zero or fewer dice, roll two dice and take the lowest instead.

Character Creation

Each player should create their own character. There are three things about your character which are always true:

You are newly born into the world. You may know things about the world (e.g., from your programming, having read them on a computer terminal, etc.), but you haven't experienced them.

You are implausibly good at remaining inconspicuous; unless you're deliberately drawing attention or doing something which requires a dice roll, humans will almost always fail to spot you.

You are not human. You can decide what that means.

To find out what else is true about your character, roll or choose three times from the Form table, and three times from the Function table, placing your results into the correspondingly labelled slots on the Profile Grid, below, in any order you please. Your three results from each table should be different; if you elected to roll and get the same entry multiple times, flip your result, and re-roll if it's still a duplicate.

Think about what your three Form traits and three Function traits imply about your character's physical makeup, but don't set anything in stone just yet – you'll see why not in a moment.

Finally, roll a six-sided die five times, and record the results in the order in which they're received. The resulting five-digit number is the only name your character has when play begins.

Table 1: Form (d66)

11–12. Blood 13–14. Bones 15–16. Brain 21–22. Claws 23–24. Ears 25–26. Eyes 31–32. Guts 33–34. Hands 35–36. Heart 41–42. Hair 43–44. Legs 45–46. Lungs 51–52. Nose 53–54. Skin 55–56. Tail 61–62. Teeth 63–64. Tongue 65–66. Wings

Table 2: Function (d66)

11–12. Accelerated 13–14. Autonomous 15–16. Auxiliary 21–22. Cryogenic 23–24. Cryptic 25–26. Elastic 31–32. Electric 33–34. Entropic 35–36. Invasive 41–42. Invulnerable 43–44. Kinetic 45–46. Magnetic 51–52. Phasing 53–54. Polymorphic 55–56. Projectile 61–62. Pyrogenic 63–64. Telescopic 65–66. Toxic

Playing the Game

Play proceeds in a series of scenes. In each scene, the GM will set the stage: a challenge to overcome, a peril to escape, a mystery to investigate, etc. Given the nature of your characters, most things will be mysteries to you!

Initial Token Placement

Once the stage has been set, place each of your three tokens on a different square on your Profile Grid. If you have no preference, you can roll d66 for each token and place it in the square whose marked numeric range contains the number you rolled, flipping or re-rolling your result if you get a square which already contains a token. The placement of these tokens represents your initial state when the scene opens. Depending on the nature of your character, this may be reflected by a shifting of internal focus, or by a physical transformation.

Participation

To participate in the scene, simply tell the GM what your character does; the GM will describe how the world responds, and ask what you do next. Whenever you wish – or are forced – to do something more than lurk and observe, you are obliged to make a test.

Making Tests

To make a test, first choose a pair of traits – one Form trait, and one Function trait – with which to face the challenge. For example, if your Form traits are Legs, Tail and Teeth, and your Function traits are Cryptic, Invulnerable and Phasing, you might test your Invulnerable Legs against the trouble at hand.

Next, count the number of tokens present in the rows extending from each of the chosen traits. The illustration below shows which squares would be consulted in the preceding example:

Next, roll a dice pool containing a number of dice equal to the number of tokens present on squares extending from the chosen traits. Do not count a token twice if it's on the square where the two traits intersect (e.g., the green square in the illustration above). In the event that no tokens fall on squares extending from appropriate traits, remember that you are allowed to roll a pool of zero dice by rolling two dice and taking the lowest rather than the highest.

Finally, compare your result to the following table:

1–3. Less than human. Whatever you'd intended to try still happens, but it cannot overcome human opposition (or adversity which would challenge a typical human), and any lasting effects are transitory and easily explained away. 4–5. Mostly human. Your effort can contend with human opposition (or circumstances which would challenge a competent human), and its lasting effects make it obvious that someone (or something) has been interfering with matters. 6. More than human. Your effort easily brushes aside any human opposition, and its lasting effects are impossible to rationalise as anything other than the intervention of inhuman forces.

Without Applicable Traits

In the event that you're forced to make a test and no possible pairing of your traits is applicable, you don't get to roll anything, not even with a pool of zero dice; simply resolve the outcome as though you'd rolled a result of 1–3. Other characters may attempt to preserve you from this fate by assisting you, in which case you roll one die per assisting friend; see below for more details.

Assistance

If you wish to assist another character in making a test, consult your own Profile Grid, considering only those squares which contain tokens. Only the specific pairs of traits represented by the squares on which your tokens fall are eligible for assistance; for example, if one of your tokens falls on the intersection of Cryptic and Teeth, you may assist with Cryptic Teeth, but not any other pair of traits involving Cryptic or Teeth unless those squares also have tokens on them.

If you're able to identify an eligible pair of traits that seems applicable to the test at hand, explain how you're using it to help, and hand the player making the test one extra die. Any number of characters may assist on a given test.

Providing assistance neither requires nor permits your character to adapt (see below) – it needs to be your own test for that!

Adapting

After resolving a test, your character adapts, shifting focus or form to reflect what they've learned. Take one token of your choice from your character sheet, and move it to a different square which doesn't already contain one. You can move any token you wish, but it must end up on a different square than the one it started on unless no valid destinations are available. Adapting is not optional, and must be carried out after every test.

Suffering Strain

If whatever you're making a test against is particularly strenuous or dangerous, you might suffer strain as a consequence. Strain will often be incurred on a result of 1–3, and rarely on a result of 4–5; only the most foolhardy efforts will incur strain even on a result of 6!

To incur strain, roll d66, and place a small X on the square on your Profile Grid whose indicated numeric range contains the number you rolled. If there's a token on that square, immediately move it to an empty square of your choice, unless fewer than three unmarked squares now remain; in that case, simply remove the token entirely.

For the remainder of the scene, tokens may not be moved to any marked square. In addition, if you suffer further strain, and the square indicated by your d66 roll is already marked, your character is incapacitated, and may not participate in tests at all until they recover.

All strain is cleared – and any discarded tokens restored – at the end of each scene. Incapacitated characters also recover at this time.

[ivystoryweaver]

Perfect Fit (Volume 2 of 3)

(you read that right I'm a liar as usual)

"And that simmering resentment burns, turning over inside you, fueling…pure lust."

Read Volume 1 || Perfect Fit Masterlist

Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: Read volume 1 first. You are staying at Nathan's secluded home, part of an ongoing experiment that involves a lot of sex with him and his lookalike android Nate. But who is who, and are you truly safe?

Content: MDNI, NSFW, you are responsible for your reading. (more below the cut) Nathan Bateman should be warning enough

Content/Warnings: sci-fi horror elements, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, voyeurism, degradation AND praise, creampie, cum eating, spitting, nipple play, impact play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral-m rec., anal sex, group sex, dub con related to gaslighting, sex with AI/androids, language, other sci-fi nonsense, violence, wounds, blood, not beta'd

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

"Here, taste this." You offer an oversized spoon to Nate so he can sample the vegan stew you've been working on all morning. The aroma permeates the air around you, and your stomach releases a symphony of anticipatory grumbles.

The android smirks, but it's playful, not condescending, like his creator. "You know I don't eat. Sounds like you need to, though."

"You can taste, can't you?" You challenge, nodding for him to at least bring it to his tongue.

He wets his lips, dark eyes flickering from your face down the curves of your body. "Yeah, I can taste, sweetheart." His tongue darts out to swipe over his plush lips for good measure.

"Jesus, you're as bad as Nathan," you huff, only half serious anyway. Shrugging one shoulder, you sip the stew yourself, humming at the hearty flavor. "More for me."

Nate regards you carefully for a moment before dutifully reaching into the cupboard for two bowls. "I want to, you know... Eat."

"I'm sure Nathan could make it happen," you nonchalantly reply. "I mean, there are certainly fluids that come out of your body as it is."

"Nicely put, sweetheart," Nate chuckles, presenting the bowls to you. "Nathan couldn't have said it better, I'm sure."

"Fuck you," you tease, bumping him with your hip, nodding toward the twin bowls he's offered. "Why two? Nathan eating with us?"

"You never know."

Nate was right. Determining what Nathan would or would not do, or where he might even turn up was a bit of mystery lately. You were starting to believe you all lived in a modernized house from the board game Clue - complete with mysteries and secret passages.

Nathan disappeared and reappeared at the oddest times.

But there's Nate. He's...softer. He smiles more than Nathan - laughs, even. There's a tender warmth in those earthy eyes. Or Nate's letting you think there is. Or perhaps Nathan's letting you think it. You can't be entirely sure.

Life is like this lately. Nate cooks with you, talks with you - not just at you - plays Scrabble with you, sometimes even Uno - your favorite. (Nathan doesn't even consider it a real game). You work out, swim, hike, fuck - like, a lot, watch movies, take baths...

Nate does everything a regular person might do, except use a digestive system. If Nathan really is trying to pass him off as human, you're not sure why he has withheld this particular function from his creation.

And your role as Nathan's employee has never been more ambiguous. In fact, you haven't done any actual work in a few weeks, unless spending copious amounts of domestic and coital time on camera was in your job description. (Knowing Nathan, it was.)

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nate has been venturing into your bedroom at night anytime he wants. You haven't told him no. In fact, you usually roll over and play with your toy.

This is what Nathan wants, right? For you to 'use him', to see if Nate can pass as a human? All while Nathan watches.

So you give him a show. This is apparently your work, although it feels like extended holiday.

Forget sleep. You can sleep whenever this weird, once-in-a-lifetime fuckfest ends and you are flown out of here, back to your humdrum life.

In the meantime, there's a very eager cock hard and ready as you sink down and slowly start to ride him. The stretch of him inside you pulls a moaning sigh from your lips.

Nate's hands rove all over you - thick fingers gripping your thighs, pushing up over your abdomen to cup your breasts. He likes to make you feel good - that's what he tells you anyway, as his thumbs swipe your sensitive nipples.

And this is a possible way you think you're able to tell Nate apart from Nathan.

Nathan is always about Nathan. Oh, he knows what he's doing in bed and you like everything he does. But it's for him. Everything is, always.

Nate seems different.

Probably all in your head, but as he pushes the pad of his thumb over your clit, you can't find it in you to care either way.

Besides, you keep proving Nathan wrong, at least by your own estimation, and that brings its on brand of pleasure. See, you've figured out that Nate's ego, although nearly a match for his maker's, is his weakness - or, if not a weakness, then it's at least a foolproof way to determine which "twin" is bottomed out inside your cunt.

Rolling over with him still inside, you relax while he pleasures you eagerly.

"Show me how fast you can move," is all it takes for a clearly non-human Nate to turn into your personal vibrating toy.

He looks like Nathan - feels just as good, with the same thick cock - the expanse of his defined shoulders, toned chest, corded neck that seems to invite your tongue to lave over it hungrily - but...Nate is ultimately a machine. He has more stamina and he can move in ways his master cannot...when Nathan allows it, of course.

At your urging, Nate's cock plunges inside you and you verbally "coax" his setting to high. Your Nathan-shaped toy makes you scream in ecstasy as he vibrates your pussy through a rapid orgasm, your body shaking with a euphoric rush that keeps you happily entangled in this experiment. While building toward another, Nate abruptly powers down.

The muscled weight of him pins you to the bed, leaving you not only unsatisfied, but trapped. You call for help, but you hear nothing for the next few seconds.

"Nathan, I know you're watching, you asshole," you huff, finding it a little difficult to breathe underneath the android's dead weight, let alone yell. "Get him off me." You hope Nathan's watching, anyway. You haven't laid eyes on him in a week.

You almost tremble with relief as Nathan strolls in a couple minutes later, shirtless, with black joggers hanging low on his hips.

"Something wrong, babydoll?" He casually taunts, pushing his wire frames up his nose. He gestures dramatically at his creation. "Your little toy malfunction?"

"Nathan, come on," you practically wheeze.

He snorts, and with a determined head shake, rolls the android off your body - Nate's inanimate form thumping on the bed beside you.

Then that damn question - your weakness: "You okay, sweetheart?" Easing down to hover over you, Nathan cages you in with his muscular arms, mustering a puppy eyed countenance that could almost count as concern.

"Like you give a shit," you somewhat playfully whine, squirming underneath him, pounding your fists against his chest in a dramatic pout - when in actuality, you're thrilled to see him. "You did that on purpose."

"That so?" He volleys, dark eyebrows shooting up patronizingly as he drags his fingers through your soaked folds. "He's been malfunctioning - you know this." His middle finger plunges inside you effortlessly while his thumb languidly toys with your clit.

You make no effort to stop him. If he's going to manipulate you, you might as well enjoy it - your mantra. Or maybe your excuse to endure it all.

"I don't know 'this'," you refute - your words weakly attempting to sting as your body shifts receptively to meet the thrusting of his fingers, moaning deeply as he slides two more fingers inside you and curls them forward, into that spongy softness deep within. "Where have you been? Do you seriously spend all day watching us like a TV show?"

Yanking his digits right back out, Nathan smacks your wet cunt as a warning. The sting jolts your body, as pain skitters along every nerve ending, but you crave his attention so desperately, your pussy drips, yearning for friction.

"You know how busy I am," he warns, but you moan at the rough stimulation of your clit as he smacks you again.

"Fuck me or get out of my room," you snarl, shoving at his shoulders.

He actually laughs. "Such a needy whore." He tuts condescendingly before shrugging his bare shoulders. "You don't want answers - fine, I'll put my mouth to better use."

You naturally assume Nathan plans to eat you out but he climbs back up your body and rests his elbows on either side of your head, holding his weight off you. Reaching up with his fingers, he pulls his wire frames off his face and tosses them on Nate's bare, inanimate chest.

On any other man, these stunning, deep brown eyes would melt you on the spot. And they almost do now as he holds your gaze, touching his forehead to yours.

"I have missed you," he murmurs, rendering you speechless.

Then he kisses you.

And...fuck, it's a good kiss. The heat of his breath ghosts your cheek as his fuzzy beard tickles your chin. His lips - a scandalously soft contrast to the rest of him - invite yours open, into a tangle of breath and the wet thrust of his tongue over yours.

His thumb traces the contour of your jaw with deceptive tenderness as he settles on top of you. You part for air and he stares down into your eyes, his prominent nose brushing against yours. His mouth meets yours again and you feel the weight of his clothed cock push against your drenched cunt.

He knows you like to be kissed. And how you like it.

He kisses you and kisses you and grinds the soft cotton of his joggers over your clit, dragging, agonizingly slowly, back and forth, sending sparks of pleasure and desire surging along every nerve ending as he shares your breath, cradling your face and licking into you so hotly...

And he keeps you here for an eternity - steadily grinding, making out with you like a teenager in his bedroom.

If he's taking scientific notes, which he always does - he will note that it takes you 27 minutes to come like this. He never gives you anything else, but his mouth and the steady tickle and drag over your clit as he dry humps you.

He controls the pace, because, of course he does. And you remain at his mercy, willingly.

Your back arches in rapture and he tears his mouth from yours to watch you fall apart underneath him.

Then he gets what he wants when you moan and whimper his name.

His name.

Okay, personal vibrating fuck toys aside, this was pure paradise. Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath - your chest rising and falling deliciously as you come back to yourself.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," Nathan groans appreciatively.

When your eyes finally, lazily peel open, you find him standing on his knees over you, joggers shoved down past the swell of his ample hips, jerking himself to the sight of you attempting to catch your breath.

Out of habit, you reach for his cock to help finish him off, but he gently brushes your hand away. "Just lie there," he instructs, vigorously working his dextrous fingers over the heavy length of his weeping cock. "Look fucking perfect, babydoll. Stay right there. Gonna come on your tits."

You moan his name again, locking eyes with him and thrusting your breasts out purposely before reaching to toy with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers.

"Such a dirty slut," he grunts, wetting his lips at the sight of you fondling yourself. It only takes a few more strokes for him to spill his thick ropes of cum all over you, as promised, delicious sounds rumbling out of his broad chest as the warmth of him coats your skin.

Wetting your lips, you take advantage of his split second of sated vulnerability and decide to tease him, spreading his cum all over your breasts with your fingers.

"Better clean you up," he says, before commanding Nate to power on.

Malfunctioning, your ass. Nathan probably powered the android down on purpose earlier.

"Suck her tits. Clean her up," Nathan commands, nodding toward your chest.

Nate complies, gazing down at you briefly before lowering his lips to your nipple and swirling his tongue over the pebbled flesh, swiping through a glob of Nathan's spend.

Nathan chuckles, amused, before easing down to capture your other nipple. Both men latch onto your tits, swirling their tongues and sucking you vigorously.

"Oh my god," you moan, writhing underneath them, wondering how you could possibly want anything more after a couple of orgasms this evening.

Nathan starts up again, reaching for your cunt, knowing how overstimulated you are. He's been testing your limits lately. Before you can protest, however, Nate pulls off your tit with a pop, easing up to nuzzle your neck and breathe on your ear.

"You okay, baby?"

You smile at him adoringly, Nathan notes - then responds, naughtily cramming four fingers roughly into your pussy.

"Nathan, hold on," you gasp, reaching for his arm. "It's too much. I need a second."

Slowly removing his hand, he scoffs, pinching your nipple hard with his free hand, causing you to hiss in surprise.

"Give her a damn second," Nate echoes, earning a glare from his maker.

Nathan immediately powers him down again; only this time Nate doesn't land on top of you.

"Would you stop that?" You huff, working your arm free of Nate's deadened grasp. "Your god complex, I swear."

Nathan stares at you blankly for thirty straight seconds. You're unsure if you've ever heard him shut the hell up for this long while fully conscious.

"Have fun with your toy," he spits, stalking out of the room.

You groan in frustration. Nathan is such a child sometimes. Nate was only trying to listen to you - to watch out for you.

All right, maybe you haven't been fair to Nate. You've been using him as a life-sized vibrator, but he really does seem to care.

Your mind briefly drifts to the dozens of times he's drawn you a hot bath, washed your body in the shower, made sure you had plenty of water to drink, used a damp cloth to clean you. His aftercare game is next level. He likes to whisper on your neck and hold you while you fall asleep.

Ugh, what is happening to you?

The notion of you having feelings for an android is just...not okay. Also, the idea of you having feelings for a narcissistic mad scientist like Nathan is nothing short of a recipe for disaster...or maybe heartbreak. That is, if your heart is even in it.

Is it?

At first, there was nothing about Nathan you particularly cared for on a personal level - aside from his genius. He's not even really your type.

Obnoxiously rich? Not your style. Narcissistic? Hell no.

Every word out of his mouth makes you roll your eyes. The fact that his gorgeous hair is shaved off while he has an annoyingly long beard is ridiculous nonsense. The reasoning for him wearing wire framed glasses of all looks, and doesn’t wear contacts, or hasn’t had LASIK surgery with his wealth, is absurd.

Probably doesn’t trust anyone to touch his eyes. Altough this won’t stop him from sticking his dick into damn near anything, especially if he invented it.

Sometimes the mere sound of his voice makes you tense up. No one loves the sound of his own rambling more than he does. He probably stands in the mirror and talks to himself. He probably has Nate repeat back to him everything he just said simply so he can hear the sound of his own voice.

He knows everything about everything. A maven. But not. He actually really knows. It’s infuriating.

He’s perfect. He’s active, he’s healthy, his body is a machine as much as Nate’s: eat, sleep, fuck, exercise. But instead of seeing the need to exercise as a of human deficit, (whereas Nate was built to be perfect), Nathan sees it at some sort of basic human function. He performs it without question and it keeps him in excellent condition.

Other times, you could listen to him talk for hours but you hate yourself for giving him the pleasure of your undivided attention. You like to imagine a world where he might actually value you as more than a warm body or a sounding board - something to reflect Nathan back to Nathan - but you know it will never happen. And right when you convince yourself that you are worth more than all this -

Worth more than exhilarating hikes in breathtaking nature, healthy food, stimulating conversation and work, plenty of rest, a near perfect sexual companion?

Wait, what were you complaining about again?

At any rate, right as you start to remind yourself how dangerous and self-centered Nathan really is, he always shows you tenderness - asks your opinion, checks to see if you’re okay.

Even then, he’s always right. He’s the doctor who prescribes exactly what you need to get you back into “working condition” for him. It’s always about him.

And that simmering resentment burns, turning over inside you, fueling…pure lust.

Fuck this.

Grabbing an oversized t-shirt from the end of your bed, you yank it over your head, and follow.

"Nathan, wait!" You call, jogging down the hallway after him, but he's already out of sight.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You find him the next morning in the kitchen, looking a little more bundled up than his typical short sleeved polo shirt or too-loose tank top.

"I'm going for a hike," he announces, taking what appears to be the last swig of a protein shake.

He washes the glass out in the sink before leaning against the counter. Folding his muscled arms over his chest, he gives you a once over. "Wanna come?"

You stare at him for a moment. "You...want me to come hiking with you?"

The question is barely out of your mouth before he groans. "Why do you make me repeat myself?"

"Because...I never see you anymore," you return his condescension, as if it should be obvious. "I don't even do any work for you, or with you. What am I doing here, Nathan?"

He glares at you over his wire frames, dark eyebrows arching pointedly before huffing out a sigh and pushing his glasses back up his nose. "That's what I want to talk to you about. Come on."

Nathan's not kidding about taking a hike. You climb a steep trail, thankful that he encourages eating healthy and staying active. If you had been sitting on your ass all these months, your climb would be quite a struggle. But the view from the top is nothing short of spectacular.

A magnificent waterfall cascades from where you are - a piece of heaven itself - dropping dramatically to craggy rocks below. The two of you sit, enveloped by the roar and refreshing mist the waterfall grants you. And, as if listening to nature itself speak, Nathan is, for once, quiet.         

You take the rare and unrestricted opportunity to watch him, unguarded. He really is quite beautiful, beneath the constantly shifting, condescending eyebrows, glasses that are sexier than glasses have ever seemed to you before, and his bushy beard. Damn, he wears it all well. 

You continue on this way, in ethereal comfort,  unwilling to be the first one to interrupt this unexpected serenity. 

After a while, he turns to you and holds out his hand. "Ready to head back, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile at the conundrum that is Nathan, allowing him to help you up.

"It really is beautiful here," you comment on the hike back down. "Definitely different than being surrounded by androids."

He spares you a glance over his shoulder, but doesn't reply for several more minutes.

"I have to be here, for my work," He informs, nodding around you. "It's...balance."

"The artificial versus the natural?" You question, expecting a condescending remark.

Instead, he regards you with warmth, allowing you to catch up to walk beside him, instead of following his lead.

"Something like that."

"Hmm..." You nod, keeping step with your complicated, brilliant, mysterious boss. "What am I doing here then?"

He rolls his eyes but one corner of his mouth curls. "Upsetting the balance."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Of course an interlude like this with Nathan eventually turns sexual. It is your primary connection to one another, after all, beyond even that of employer/employee.

He takes a quick shower and suggests you soak in the tub while he makes dinner. You don't even make it to dessert before he's all over you.

Which reminds you...Nate has been powered off since yesterday. Maybe Nathan wanted you all to himself.

Perhaps that’s wishful thinking.

As if reading your mind, however, Nathan explains that Nate needed some recalibrating. You mistakenly assumed this would involve you as an employee, but Nathan has other ides.

"Just say the word and I'll leave him off," Nathan flippantly suggests...while he's balls deep inside you.

Breathlessly gasping, you respond to the fusion of your bodies joined, moving perfectly in sync after doing this too many times before. Nathan knows every expanse of skin- every dip and valley. He knows full well how caressing your hip bone causes you to shift against him - creating delicious friction. Fingertips rake across your abdomen tracing each and every insecurity, igniting you with desire and confidence, even. 

Nobody has ever known you like this, touched you, pulled you apart so expertly. Truthfully, you couldn't and did not know ecstasy like this even existed. And the bliss of sexual gratification feels so much like lovemaking that you don't even know what to think or feel anymore. You only know that you crave him, every day, all day. 

And you're somehow meant to be here with him, in this wild experiment, existing in this chaotic sci-fi bubble. Your body fits his so well that sometimes you feel like - androids aside - you really were made just for him, to fit him perfectly. 

"He's your experiment," you counter, finally answering as you roll your hips to meet his expertly timed thrusts.

"Don't tell me you miss him," he groans, gripping your hips and driving into you deeper, eyes darkening at the challenge.

Your back arches off the bed as he hits that spot you love. "I missed you, Nathan," you pant, pushing your hands over the breadth of his sculpted shoulders to tangle behind his neck as you pull yourself against the solid heat of him, your bodies pressed together at every point. "That's the truth. I've missed you."

Answering you with his mouth on yours, he kisses you while you fall apart for him and keeps going until he's coming inside you.

He collapses beside you, panting against your cheek, his hefty thigh slung across yours as you come back to yourselves.

"Are you happy here?" He quietly whispers against your skin.

"Yes," you breathe wholeheartedly. "Most of the time. Is this really what you wanted when you brought me here?"

He huffs out a sardonic chuckle. "Sex? Obviously."

"No, I mean...'upsetting the balance' - what you said earlier." Scrubbing your fingers over his fuzzy hair, you silently curse the warm, fizzy yearning inside you. "I don't think anything could ever upset your balance. Always in control."

Rolling onto his back, he stares up at the ceiling. "You haven't noticed this all revolves around you?" He circles his finger in the air.

"Mmm...sure seems that way when I don't see you for a week," you smart off, already missing his touch and attention.

"That's why you have Nate," his eyebrows shoot up playfully as he props up on his elbow to face you. "Someone to play with."

"Well he's not you. No matter how much of a genius you are."

"Shit," he huffs, amused. "I don't know if I should be flattered or crushingly disappointed in my work."

As if on cue, Nate saunters into the room naked as the day he was invented.

"Somebody missed me?" He teases, sounding a lot like his creator.

With a smug smile, Nathan motions to your naked body. "Somebody missed me. You not up to the challenge? Can't keep her satisfied?"

Climbing off the bed, Nathan walks around to stand right where your face is. "Open that pretty mouth for me," he commands, ignoring the android for a moment.

Nate groans, clearly annoyed by Nathan's condescending dismissal - but the emotional response only manages to please his creator. Every time Nate acts human, it serves to stroke Nathan's ego a little more.

To your surprise, he beckons the android over, instructing him to be the one fuck your mouth. You're so curious to see what Nathan has in mind that you comply without protest. The sight of your naked body draped across the bed, head hanging off the edge, tongue out, has Nate hard instantly. Nathan watches eagerly as you start sucking off his creation.

Nate seems to have gotten over his brief moment of attitude as you take his cock in your wet mouth and get to work.

"So pretty like this, sweetheart," Nate praises you. "So good to me."

Your body warms at the encouragement - such a sharp contrast to being called a whore all the time - which also makes your pussy quiver, to be fair.

Moving around to the other end of you, Nathan traces his thick fingers over the curve of your ass before spreading your cheeks apart and spitting on your tight hole. You moan around Nate's cock, knowing what's coming. You have no objection to being used by these two, and your pussy could use the break.

Nathan pushes his thumb past your tight ring of muscle, teasing you and opening you up for the intrusion of his cock. You're used to him playing with your ass by now, but the stretch always gets to you. After applying some lube, he eases slowly inside, groaning at how tight your ass always feels squeezing him.

Full of cock on both ends, Nate strokes your cheek, praising you while Nathan calls you a greedy whore (again).

"She's not a whore," Nate protests. And this is the first time you hear a full out argument between an android and a human.

Nathan laughs out, nodding down toward your writhing, naked body between them. "Look at her. She's getting nothing out of this - taking it up the ass while your fake dick is cutting off her air supply. Who would let us do this besides a cum dumpster whore?"

As if that's not the meanest thing he's ever said about you, he punctuates his declaration by spitting on your cunt before slapping you there.

And you moan.

Nate roughly pulls out of your mouth, jarring your head as he does.

"You can't actually want this," He accuses. "Not from this piece of shit anyway." He gestures at his creator, who smirks triumph, or perhaps he simply finds Nate's display entertaining.

Gripping your hips, Nathan thrusts into your tight hole faster, spearing you so hard that you know you'll be sore.

"Nathan, it's..." You trail off, your voice a pathetic whine.

"Feel so good squeezing my cock, babydoll," He encourages, licking his lips at the sight of your wildly bouncing tits.

"You're hurting her," Nate lowly growls taking a brave step forward.

"She wants it," Nathan argues, spanking your cunt a few more times in rapid succession, the stinging sensation making your clit throb as you shriek in surprise. "Do your goddamn job and put your cock back in her mouth."

"My job is not to hurt her," Nate passionately defends. Instead of giving his creator anymore of his attention, he eases down beside your bucking body, brushing his fingers over your cheek.

"Do you want him to stop?"

Nathan laughs at him. "You're pathetic."

You can't help yourself. Something about Nathan's dismissive treatment of you, railing your ass while Nate tries to defend your honor has you right at the edge. Or maybe you just like an audience. Nathan’s always known how to push your buttons. Your eyes roll back in your head and you feel like you could come again, with the slightest stimulation.

But you glance between them and you know this is different. Something is way off with these two.

“Wait,” you huff, realizing this has all gotten a little too weird. “Nathan, wait.”

With an annoyed growl, he pulls out of you, hands landing on his hips as he takes his 'ready to lecture you' pose.

“You two need more time alone?” He bites, glancing between the two of you. “A week wasn’t enough?”

"Why don't you fuck off?" Nate snaps, shoving Nathan's shoulder. "She doesn't even know what you're really doing here."

You scramble to your feet, eyes wide and worried. "Nathan?"

"Can you believe this?" Nathan scoffs, but not really to you. He seems to be talking to himself. "Fucking unreal."

Nate shoves him again and Nathan immediately powers him down. Nate hits the ground with a bone-crunching thud and you gasp out, hands covering your mouth.

Seeing you truly disturbed gives Nathan pause.

"What is going on here?" You demand, stalking across the room to grab a robe to wrap around your naked body. "Why are you and Nate at each other's throats?" Kneeling down beside Nate, you roll him over, checking to see if he's...damaged.

You glare at Nathan. "Answer me."

Gesturing animatedly, he huffs, "You saw him. I told you you he needs recalibrating."

"No. You two were having a dick measuring contest - "

"I didn't see you complaining about my dick," he bites back.

"Stop avoiding the question," you scold. "What is going on here? What's Nate talking about? What don't I know? Why am I really here if not to work? What do you want from me?"

When he hesitates, you let out an annoyed sigh, more frustrated with your own expectations than with him. "Nevermind," you sigh, stalking toward the bathroom. He really is going to continue stringing you along, you suppose.

Normally, he isn't one to follow, or play emotional volleyball. He doesn't need to chase you because you're always available to him. But something draws him to you this time.

"Sweetheart, what the fuck?"

You ignore him, barreling through the bathroom door and closing it behind you. He barges right in, uninvited. Amidst all the weirdness, he's maintained an impressive boner.

"I left you alone for a week, with Nate - that doesn't make you happy." He talks demonstratively with his hands, despite the fact that he's stark naked and you're attempting to splash water on your face. "I spent an entire day with you - no androids for two days - that doesn't make you happy either. Why are you being so damn cryptic?"

You can't believe what you're hearing. Turing off the faucet, you glare at his reflection. "Why the hell do you care what makes me happy? Since when does that matter to you in the least?"

"What makes you think it doesn't matter? I just asked you tonight if you were happy."

You shrug him off as he reaches out for you.

"You know what, Nathan? Forget this. I-I need to leave. I need a break from this place. You're never going to tell me the truth about anything."

He scoffs as if you couldn't possibly be serious. "You can't leave."

You shove past him, out of the bathroom. "What do you mean I can't leave?" You demand, gathering some clothes so you can get dressed.

Nathan reaches for his own pants, jerking them up his legs agitatedly. "You know exactly what I mean. You're stuck here for now, sweetheart."

Ugh, you're in no mood.

"Get out of my room." You point to the android. "And take him with you."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

The next day, Nathan is absent. But so is Nate. You can't seem to find them anywhere and the silence chills you to the bone.

So you pack your suitcase because you're done with this bullshit. You want to be here, but you've lost all objectivity and you need a break if nothing else. It's been fun and wild, but there are some serious warning signs starting to freak you right the hell out.

Another day passes and you see no one.

On the third day, Nate comes to your room in the middle of the night. He slides into bed with you while you're tossing and turning.

"Are you okay?" You whisper, although there's no reason to keep your voice down as Nathan is surely listening anyway.

"Are you really going to leave?" Dark eyes bore into yours as his hands grip your hips and pull you flush against his body.

"I don't know," you answer honestly. "I don't see any point in being here anymore. Not if I'm not going to work with Nathan and the two of you are going to pretend I don't exist."

"I'm not doing that," Nate insists, touching his forehead to yours. "I can't help it if he powers me down. I missed you."

And he kisses you, passionately.

Your body tends to automatically respond, but this has all gotten too bizarre.

"Nate, stop, hold on," you protest, gently pushing him off you.

"I know you want to leave," he confesses, nodding toward your packed bag. "I just...I wanted to spend one more night with you."

You actually consider it. Then against your better judgment, you do.

Because you're leaving. And because at least a piece of your heart belongs to Nathan. And Nate was Nathan's gift to you.

Nate fucks you so slowly and sweetly that you cry - maybe from overwhelm, or from confusion, or because it's over. Maybe because you think you'll never be with Nathan like this again.

He carries you to the tub when you finish, lets you soak, washes you, pats your exhausted body with a fluffy towel and wraps you in a luxurious robe.

"You must be hungry, sweetheart," he whispers on your ear, dragging his palm up your thigh as he helps you work lotion into your skin.

Sometimes this man is pure heaven. Except...he's not a man.

"Why are you so good to me?" You murmur, laying your head on his shoulder.

He finishes moisturizing one leg and switches to the other, a little smile pulling at the corner at his lip. "You know why."

You chuckle, even as he tickles your foot teasingly. "No, I don't."

Locking eyes with you, he pauses. Wiping his hands clean, he touches your cheek. "I was made for you."

Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes. "As an experiment?"

"I don't care why," he shakes his head. "I love you."

You falter, your gaze dropping. "How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure," he insists, lifting your chin up so you'll look at him again. "And I know you feel for me too. Don't you?"

He keeps searching for your gaze.

"Nate...I-I can't."

"But why?" He presses, his voice soft and pleading - warm brown eyes softer than you've ever seen his, or Nathan's.

Wetting your lips, you shake your head. "Because, you're a...machine."

His eyes go cold. Silently he stands up, eyes raking over your body. His hands land on his hips, making him look just like Nathan. "You think I'm not real? That because I was built I can't feel things?"

"I didn't say that," you protest, rising to join him. "I-it's my fault really. I've let this go on too long and for too far. This was supposed to be fun. An experiment, I thought. But I'm so confused."

Feelings will definitely make this far messier than it needs to be. Of that, you're certain, because of the strong feelings you harbor for Nathan. Which is why you desperately need to get out of here.

As if things couldn't get more awkward and disconcerting, Nathan decides to grace you with his presence.

"Nathan, what do you want?" You groan. "And where have you been?"

Smugly folding his arms over the breadth of his chest, Nathan nods to the android. "Didn't want to miss the big love confession. Don't let me stop you."

"Don't be an asshole," you huff, realizing he must have been watching, as fucking usual. "I am seriously over this. Get out unless you're here to tell me about my ride home." Or unless he plans to confess something too?

"I told you. You're not leaving." Dark eyebrows arch over his wire frames.

"You can't keep her here," Nate interjects, stepping between the two of you protectively.

"Nate, please, I'm fine." You turn back to Nathan. "What is really going on here? Why are you two having some kind of pissing contest?"

Nate frowns, confused, but Nathan rolls his eyes.

Just then, the power switches off, bathing your room in an eerie red light.

Nate springs into action. "Get your bag. Time to leave. Now."

Nathan tries to power him down but it doesn't work. "What have you done? What the hell have you done?" He barks at his android, seeming truly frantic.

Even though Nate seems inclined to help and protect you, it's Nathan you turn to in your confusion. "What's wrong?" If Nathan feels out of control of a situation, it can't be good.

But before he can answer you, the glint of a silver blade catches your eye. Nate brandishes a weapon and forcefully shoves it into Nathan's bare chest.

"Can't power me down, can you, asshole?" He snarls, pulling the blade out with a bloody squelch and thrusting it back into his abdomen even as you scream, horrified.

The next few moments rack your body with fear as tears burn your eyes, clouding your vision. You sink down beside Nathan, sobbing, pressing your hands down over the bleeding wound on his chest. The knife remains in his abdomen.

"What did you do?" You cry, flinching when Nate turns his gaze to you. Trembling in fear, you inch back, wondering if you're next.

"Nate, please," you whimper. "Why are you doing this?"

"Not to you," he passionately returns, reaching out for you. "I could never hurt you. I - I did this for you. I love you."

"This is not love," you cry. "We have to help him."

"Why? Don't tell me you love him."

Your shoulders shake as you lean over Nathan, blood oozing between your fingers. There's no one around for miles. Nathan's going to die and you're going to be stuck in this weird ass mansion with the robot who murdered him and who knows how many other robots.

A moaning sob rips out of you as you realize how foolish you've been, letting Nathan toy with you all this time instead of demanding more answers or insisting on leaving.

"You do, don't you?" Nate shakes his head disbelievingly. "You love him. After everything he's done to you. Fucking unreal."

That phrase niggles at the back of your mind, but you're too horrified to realize...

"Hey...it's okay." Nate kneels down beside you, reaching for your hand. You whimper and shrink away, assuming he means to kill you too.

So much for loving you. Asshole.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Look..." Nate reaches for the knife embedded in Nathan's stomach. Instead of yanking it out, he cuts deeper, dragging the knife across his abdomen, all while you scream for him to stop.

A wave of nausea roils throughout your body as he peels back a bloody layer of skin to reveal...machinery.

In fact, past the initial layer of skin, there's not much blood at all.

Your vision blurs and the world goes black.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Thanks for your patience! I always write an extra chapter than I intended. It's my signature move. I'm sure you're used to it by now. xoxo

P.S. I know we love soft Nathan and funny Nathan (I certainly do) but in this story, I wanted to explore the genre more closely related to Ex Machina and what I fully feel the film's Nathan Bateman might be capable of. (Or Nate??) Thanks for reading!

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[sapphicdib]

Rot Au Explanation!

(and an introduction to my OCs and stuff!!)

I’m making this little intro post to put most of my rot au thoughts in one place! The tag on my blog is #rot au, but some of the older info is probably outdated at this point. I ALSO LOVE ASKS ABOUT IT!! I like replying to them with little comics sometimes so feel free to send some my way :D

Finally: TW for Manipulation, toxic as fuck relationships, SOOOO much murder, no one in this AU is a good person at all!!

Becoming increasingly frustrated with his citizens treating him like “Moon but worse”, Pebbles goes to Sig for help—he wants to be able to retaliate, or at least throw them out of his chamber when they’re being especially insulting, but he can’t do that with the taboos placed in his code. These restrictions are physically painful to break, in order to keep their artificial gods in check. Above all hangs one taboo so deeply encoded in them that rumor says if you even think of breaking it for too long, you’ll shut down from how overclocked your systems become from the pain: the altering of one’s own genome.

Much to his chagrin, Sig is the best bioengineer Pebbles knows, and probably the only one crazy smart enough to pull this off. Sig is reluctant at first, knowing how dangerous and nigh impossible such a task will be, but eventually is convinced, agreeing to help give advice and nothing else. Pebbles agrees, and they get to work.

...And it fucking works.

There are 2 main local groups: 037 (Moon's group), and 1650 (Sliver's group). In descending order of age, they are:

Looks to the Moon - (she/her) Group Senior of local group 037. One of the oldest still functioning iterators, softspoken and kind, despite the fact some other seniors might consider that a weakness. She tries to take care of her citizens and work on the great problem, but she can’t really bring herself to care much about it anymore, after working on it for so long. She is incredibly caring to her group, but she does know when to put her foot down, though she has never found it in her to use her seniority privileges against one of her group members, as she considers them a violation of their autonomy. Sig’s partner.

Seven Red Suns - (he/xe/they) Second oldest of local group 037. Close to Moon in age, which means their emotional AI is not quite as advanced as those younger than him, which can lead to issues when they are trying to understand their own and others’ feelings. He does his best though, and is generally a dedicated and agreeable member of the group, though they’re kind of aloof until Pebbles is constructed. They are active in the politics of their city, mostly as someone to give advice and guidance, rather than a leader.

Sliver of Straw - (she/her) Group Senior of local group 1650. One of the youngest seniors there is, she’s closer in age to Sig than she is to Moon. This makes her highly insecure, and she is determined to “prove” to everyone that she is a capable Senior. This leads to her being very strict with her group, as she wants someone within it, or herself, to find the solution in order to show her worth as a leader.

Once Stagnant Opportunity - (she/her) “Second in Command” of local group 1650, she’s basically Sliver without the inferiority complex. A bioengineering-focused facility, mostly specializing in creating things to make her citizens’ lives easier. She doesn’t give a shit what others think of her, and speaks her mind freely, aside from around Sliver herself, who she pretends to like but is actually insanely jealous of. She thinks she could be a better leader than Sliver ever could be, and resents her for it. (OC)

Echos of Indigo - (he/she/they) Member of local group 1650. Very soft spoken and shy, his self esteem is in rubicon from being bullied by OSO (and Sliver) after being put online. Their facility is a nature reserve, which has some of the very last natural, unpurposed biodiversity left. OSO specifically does not respect her because she thinks preserving such things is a waste of time. He tries his best. Kinda a “mom friend” to ABL, and really wishes he had some friends his age. (OC)

Chasing Wind - (he/him) Member of local group 1650. Rules his city like a dictator, due to being terrified of his own citizens taking advantage of him, so he took initiative with a “hurt them before they hurt you” mentality. He doesn’t trust his group members further than he can throw them, and suffers with some paranoia. Sig is very close to him though, they were put online within 50 cycles of one another. Sliver HAAATES this, because she thinks Sig is a lazy asshole and doesn't want her “distracting” Wind. He doesn’t particularly care, though, because he can actually let himself chill out around Sig.

No Significant Harassment - (she/he/it) “Second in Command” of local group 037. An advanced medical facility with a specialization in bioengineering, and the northernmost iterator in her group, her can is in an extremely cold area. Doesn’t give much care to the great problem, prefers to spend his time goofing off. Is considered the “Second in Command” because Moon trusts her a bit more than Suns, as they’re closer. Has a generally laid back and sarcastic personality. Moon’s partner.

Pleading Intellect - (they/them) Member of local group 1650. Built near EOI, their city has become a tourist destination because of the beautiful climate around them. Their chamber is a glass box in the middle of the city, so visitors can watch them iterate and even ask them questions. They are constantly tired due to this, since they have to be running at 100% around the clock, as they’re always being watched. Their city is the richest in the local group, and their puppet is decorated in gold and jewels to reflect that, and for the delight of tourists. Friends with Sig, Wind, and Pebbles.

Unparalleled Innocence - (she/they) Member of local group 037. While she can be a little bit of a brat, she’s a very dedicated caretaker for her city. She enjoys her citizens’ celebrations and rituals, and is generally content being their iterator. Her can is an industrial facility, and manufactures a lot of machinery for her local group and others. She’s quite popular among the iterator populous, friends/on good terms with most around her. ABL is very close to them.

Alienated by Light - (they/them) Member of local group 1650. The youngest of the group, has yet to be crushed by the futility of the great problem. Loves their citizens, and their city is very religious. They are a bit of a kiss-ass to the older ones of their local group, as they desperately want to be accepted and liked by their peers. Sliver and OSO just find them annoying, though. They consider themself close friends with Indigo (who keeps them at arms length at best), but UI is genuinely close with them, and they have a developing crush on her. (OC)

Five Pebbles - (he/him) Youngest member of local group 037. Built as a support structure for Moon, so her systems wouldn’t have to strain themselves trying to keep up with caring for her citizens. His construction was tumultuous, as there was heavy political opposition and even a couple attempted attacks in order to stop it, though obviously it didn’t work. Cycles later, he still can’t seem to shake being referred to as the “Apostate Superstructure Abomination” in certain political circles. He is deeply frustrated by this, and becomes disillusioned with his purpose rather quickly. He becomes close with Suns when he tries to distance himself from Moon, who he is constantly being compared to.

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

Once Sig and Pebbles manage to alter their genome, things seem fine for a couple cycles, or well, at least for them. They start distributing the code they created to a small group of friends/iterators they know are frustrated with their situation, unknowingly dooming them to a slow, painful death from the rot. Word gets out eventually about what Sig and Pebbles have done, especially once Pebbles starts “retaliating” (killing) his citizens when they annoy him too much. Cue absolute fucking panic.

Their citizens freak the fuck out. Their iterators, their homes could literally decide to just betray them at the drop of a hat. Political mayhem ensues, among both iterators and their citizens. Some of their citizens immediately go to groveling at their iterator’s feet, begging them not to infect themselves, while some lobby for trying to reason with Sig and Pebbles and the rest of those who have gone rogue, to work out a solution that would satisfy both of them. Some want to shut the entire iterator project down. Meanwhile, on the iterator side of things, workgroups are created, with some wanting to work to reverse/talk Pebbles and Sig down, some secretly gathering in hushed whispers to voice their wishes to go rogue themselves, and some are trying to figure out how to kill the traitors. Sliver is a part of one of those groups:

This is where Wind comes in. Wind is Sig’s best friend, put online about 50 cycles before her. Wind is part of Sliver’s group, and she absolutely despises their relationship, considering her contempt for Sig. However, this doesn’t stop them from goofing off together, as Wind really only drops his stoic and standoffish personality around her. He is incredibly paranoid, and distrustful of his own group (considering how Sliver continuously tries to prevent Wind from having fucking friends), as well as his citizens. When he realizes his citizens could be planning to shut him down, he tightens the reins on them even further, as he was already basically a strict dictator beforehand. He thinks that because of his treatment of them, his citizens absolutely want him dead, so he locks down his city and turns it into a literal surveillance state.

While this is happening, Sig notices something bad. They’ve got the fucking rot. Since they’ve already created so much chaos, they decide to keep it a secret, as they think they can just cure it as quick as they can and just sweep it under the rug, and no one will be any the wiser. Yeah that doesn’t work. When Moon notices that Pebbles shut the dams between their shared water supply, using more water, and has been acting very strange and distant, she goes to Sig because she knows they’ve been hanging out and Pebbles may have disclosed something to him that she doesn’t know. When Sig is similarly cagey, she asks for a diagnostic sweep of his systems. Sig refuses. Moon uses her seniority privileges, something she has never done before, to force Sig to send her the equipment manifest, and the truth is revealed: Sig and Pebbles are horrifically sick. Sig didn’t even realize the extent, as the rot has begun to hide and warp information they can collect from their structures.

Upon learning that Sig and Pebbles have given themselves the fucking rot, Suns completely cuts both of them off. He refuses to speak to either of them, because they’re scared that they could become convinced to “join them”, and this hurts Pebbles deeply. At the same time, Sig becomes distracted trying to convince Wind to infect himself (which I’ll come back to in a minute), and Pebbles is left feeling betrayed and alone.

Pebbles, despite his contempt for his citizens, actually really enjoys their culture. He thinks that when they aren’t being led by corrupt and rich assholes, they are a very interesting species and likes documenting and learning about them. He’s always been friendly with Pleading Intellect, who if you remember, is very involved in their citizens’ celebrations and daily life, so they begin to talk, growing closer. PIn eventually even begins to develop a crush on Pebbles, which spoiler alert, does not end well, like most things in this god awful au.

The way that seniority privileges work is that a senior can only use them on their own group. This means that Sliver cannot do jack shit to Sig or Pebbles, but she is going to try her damndest to figure out how to be able to extend her seniority to them. Sig knows this, and comes to the conclusion that he has to kill her before she kills him. This leads to him trying to convince Wind to infect himself so he can alter his own code to basically give himself seniority privileges and brain blast Sliver into oblivion. Sig uses the fact that Wind is already deeply paranoid against him, and he is eventually convinced, and the two end up killing Sliver:

This is what finally knocks some sense back into Sig. She realizes that HOLY FUCK WIND WE ABSOLUTELY FUCKED UP, and begins to desperately scramble to find a cure. Because Pebbles is still pissed at her, he refuses to help him, and even goes so far as to contact Suns again…who accepts the message. They start talking again, and out of an act driven mostly by the rot’s manipulation of Pebbles, he sends Suns the virus in a compromised message, and now Suns is infected. Sig is fucking PISSED. Why the hell would Pebbles fucking SPREAD THE ROT TO YET ANOTHER GROUP MEMBER, and also LEAVE HER TO DO ALL THE WORK WHILE HER SYSTEMS ARE DETERIORATING RAPIDLY?! Unfortunately, Pebbles has basically completely stopped fighting against the rot’s takeover of his mind and body, and pretty much succumbs to its whims.

This leaves Sig on her own. Moon and Wind try to help, though Wind has become so paranoid due to the rot feeding into that delusion he eventually shuts everyone out. Moon and Sig quickly realize that Sig barely has control of his structure anymore, and any and all attempts to run experiments or simulations of a cure come back with an error message near immediately. Moon knows that while Sig’s systems are very advanced, there’s no way that these errors are being processed this quickly, and the rot is manipulating his systems into not letting her hurt it whatsoever.

Meanwhile, the rot feeds on Suns’ love for Pebbles and twists it into a horrific jealousy/obsession. When they find out about PIn’s crush on Pebbles, he becomes incredibly angered by it, and one night while Pebbles is visiting PIn, they show up, grab Pebbles, and erase his memories of PIn right in front of them. PIn freaks the fuck out, and goes to Moon for help, and this is how Moon learns just how insane Suns and Pebbles have gone. This is getting bad!

PIn eventually goes to Wind and asks for the code to infect themself. They realize that even on the slim chance Sig and Pebbles and everyone else were to be cured, nothing would ever be the same again. They are already worked to the bone by their citizens due to being watched by them nearly 24/7, and they just want some damn sleep. Wind gives it to them.

Sig is also completely losing her grip on reality. The rot knows how hard Sig is trying to fight it, and begins just fucking melting her neurons, giving him what he wants (which are basically just hallucinations of Moon), to pacify him and stop him from focusing on attempting to find a cure.

Upon learning about what Suns has done to her brother, Moon tries to contact them, begging Pebbles to come to his senses, and eventually tries to use her seniority privileges on both of them to get a response, and this is what finally makes Suns snap. Moon comes over to Pebbles’ chamber right in the middle of him erasing Pebbles’ memories of Moon and Sig. Panicking, Moon tries to get Sig to come over, to help, to do ANYTHING, but it’s too late. Pebbles doesn’t even know who they are anymore.

Moon tries to use her privileges again to stop Suns, shut them down, get them to stop feeding Pebbles lies about Sig and Moon, but this just pisses off Suns more. Sig tries to defend Moon from them, but at this point he’s so weak a light breeze could have probably killed her, so Suns is easily able to kill her.

And then kills Moon too.

The end :3

And that's the basic explanation! Horrible, isn't it? :D

[darlingofvalyria]

❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

 You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes.  "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

 "He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

 "If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

 "Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

 "I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

[drdemonprince]

Heyyo - autist here who’s still figuring out my physical and emotional needs. I use weed every day, and part of me has shame around this (as I am a “professional” and supposedly it’s “bad for you”, and it costs money) and the other part of me says “fuck it, there’s no moral value in not using drugs and you should do what you need to”. I guess I’m wondering what perspectives you can offer on this. I’m ruminating on it a bit lately and need some outside people to share their thoughts to get me out of that cycle. Thnx

I find that I am a lot more in tune with my bodily sensations and emotions when I am high, and that I find it easier to enjoy things and to chat amiably with random people when I'm high too. It makes life easier and more pleasant to such an extent that I wonder if I ought to smoke weed daily to medicate all my Problems and Difficulties and general irritation at of most aspects of existence. But then I don't. Because I get freaked out by the brain foggy weed hangover that drifts into the next day, and I assume that it will be bad for my writing to be high, and perhaps most of all, because I am terrified of building up a really high weed tolerance and then needing to use a ton to feel anything, or to even return to a baseline.

A couple years back I tried out vaping almost nightly for a few months, and it definitely reached a point where simply *not* being high felt like being anxious, it seemed, so I decided pretty quickly to reduce my weed intake. I don't like NEEDING any substance to function or to just feel okay. so for now I keep it to the weekends. I often think of using weed more often than that, and kind of want to, but i don't.

The research on chronic long-term weed use is quite encouraging! There are no cognitive or motivational downsides to using weed every day, or even multiple times per day. Conversely, there are many emotional and psychological benefits. @testdevice and I discussed the latest scientific research on the subject at length here:

There's really only one rub to the study's findings: people who use weed multiple times per day have a baseline lower mood than people who use weed frequently, but not quite that often. NOW THIS IS NOT A CAUSAL RELATIONSHIP. Chronic heavy weed use is not CAUSING people to be more depressed -- it simply seems to be the case that people who are chronically depressed are reaching more frequently for weed to cope with it.

The study shows weed use does raise mood including for members of that group, so there really is no serious drawback to using marijuana here!

But It does align with a finding that I've made in my personal life: the moments when I want to use weed the most frequently are when something in my life is completely out of wack. When I'm super overworked and stressed out, the temptation is to use weed as a way to down-regulate my anxiety, but what actually works far better for me is taking actual steps to reduce stress in my life. I COULD use weed for depression or for failing to find life activities enjoyable, and it works, but it's also worth asking myself which aspects of my life need to change so that I can feel less depressed and get through the day feeling okay. negative emotions are a signal that something in life is going wrong and needs to be fixed, and I do not want to ignore that alarm system.

Those are just some things to think about. Personally, I think that if you have some ability to make choices in your life that can improve your general circumstances, it's better to do that than to use weed to make a life that sucks a little more tolerable. But if daily weed use is helping make your life better or less hard, the weed itself is not the problem!

Lots of people determine that daily weed use has considerable benefits for them with relatively few costs. For me, using a couple times per week is what hits that sweet spot. but ymmv.

[headfullarcanedisorder]

Okay. I can't Not talk about the Heavy is the Crown scene.

Because I'm going Insane over Caitlyn's presentation.

As a Chronic Strategist (Hard Headed Autistic), my Specialty is doing things to place myself in a functional position where I basically Can't be told "Fuck off." And I can See when other people do this as well.

And Caitlyn pulls it off in Flying Colors.

She barged into the underground council meeting with 0 delay and taking No Shit. It's almost cocky, until the entire scene plays out and you realize it's not Arrogance, she's reassured and Refuses to Waste Time.

The council is full of fear. The attack of the city, the chaos ensuing, the damage. Everyone in power is afraid and everyone is More than willing to push war and go All In on Zaun.

Cue Caitlyn.

"3 objectives. Locate Jinx. Dismantle Shimmer. Neutralize any agents loyal to silco."

The council is suddenly full of question and you can Feel it.

"Who is she??" "What's she even doing here?" "A strike team?? Who???" "What makes you think we'll fair any better than our forces today?"

And in a single display of men and power, Caitlyn places herself in a position where she has checkmate.

She displays a bright, shiny, seemingly functional Hextech Sniper. She loads it with the stone in full view and every council member gets to watch this beautiful gun activate. A compact. Concealable. Hex Sniper. In the hands of a Decorated Officer and House Leader.

If that wasn't reassuring alone, they enter the taskforce. Small but efficient.

A hulk of a man towing a hextech shield, a perfect block.

The fresh soldier from the live scenes equipped with a hextech gun so simple it looks like a 15 year old could shoot it with the efficiency of a veteran.

A strong, loyal piltovian enforcer we've seen time and time again behind the ranks, equipped in his beret, implying seasoned veteran.

This small efficient group is the council's savior and we watch as every council members face contorts in awe. It's a sealed deal, but what SENDS me, is the presence of Vi.

She's saved for last and Caitlyn intentionally does this I am Sure of it.

Because the council has Met Vi before.

Officially.

In season one Caitlyn took to a legal stand, Vi's hand tight in hers so to speak. It ended with Vi spitting Venom and running out of the room. For all intents and purposes, the council might've been afraid of Vi. Sure Caitlyn talked her up, but all Vi's been Doing has been drinking and boxing. Not very reputable.

But. Not when she's presented the way she is.

Caitlyn flashing her fresh on the scene hex weaponry. The strong and determined police force backing her. The simplified "3 step plan" lead by one of the smartest sharp shooter detectives in all of piltover?

And then the Zaunite.

But wait! It's a Zaunite in enforcerwear?

But wait!! It's Vi!

Decorated in clothing she would Never otherwise wear, walking in slow and silent, sitting quiet and in line just like all the pilties of the task force.

Suddenly. She's not an armed criminal they're bound to remember.

She's the converted. She's "a good one". She's playing nice. Everyone in the city, above or below, has heard tale of Vi's fire. Her Disgust over "a lack of justice".

And here she stands. In uniform, head down, silent, and powerful. The council sees her as leashed. And in doing so, allows the council to see Every Benefit to Vi as An Individual. Because she's on Their side now.

Caitlyn places herself in a position where the council would Never. Say. No.

She had it Locked Down. And I LOVE that for her.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

There's Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby

This is my first Gaz fic. I've just started uni break so I finally have the ability to write again, this idea grabbed me by the throat months ago and refuses to let go so I'm writing this instead of my millions of WIPS

Contains: Deadly levels of fluff, it's all fluff, I'm not sorry, this man is a puppy dog so don't blame me, hints at smut.

Masterlist

Song inspo (of course it's fucking Hozier)

1.4K Words

Gaz had never been so mesmerised by fabric before.

"You with us, man?" Price's words pulled him from his thoughts; Kyle hated his army functions, they were always so dull.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm thinking I should have given my ticket to my sister, at least she would be having fun."

Price chuckled. "Just get drunk, I know I am." Gaz sighed, for all their talk, once the gentry had finished their posturing and platitudes, they left the grunts to themselves.

Right on cue, Soap appeared with Simon in tow, their hands full of fancy glasses, and they settled beside their teammates. "I got this one for you Gaz, it's winter melon." It was comical to see Simon without his mask, a fancy drink in a tiny glass in his massive hand.

"Thanks man." It tasted like melon candy and a headache, but it was better than nothing.

"Is y/n coming?" Soap's tone was too almost too nutural.

Gaz nodded. "Yep, she'll be here soon."

Their table went quiet, and Price and Simon shared a look before Price turned to Gaz. "You gonna ask her to dance?"

Gaz blinked. "I don't know."

Simon cleared his throat. "Your arms are going to fall off it you keep carry that torch."

Gaz was going to refute him, tell Simon you were just friends but the tap of Soap's finger and a point towards the grand staircase stopped him. "Holy shit." He had never seen such a pretty shade of yellow, like you were wrapped in the fading sunlight of a spring afternoon.

You made a beeline for the group, stopping only to snatch a glass of bubbling champagne from a tray. "Hey."

Simon was the first to speak, twirling his thin drinking straw as if he were a cheap villain in an old movie. "Don't you look nice." He shoved Gaz in the shoulder. "Don't she look nice Kyle?"

His mouth was still agape, Soap and Price snickering from behind their drinks. "Yes, yes, you look lovely y/n."

You smiled. "Thank you Kyle." You paused for a moment, the poor man looked like he was going to keel over with nerves. "Will I be on your dance card tonight?"

He blinked. "Yep, yes, I would love to dance with you."

Simon, Price and Soap exchanged a look as Price hid his red face behind his glass; now was not the time to laugh at the poor man. "Wonderful, I need to go thank Kate for the invite." You turned to Price. "Please don't drink to much while I'm gone."

He chuckled. "You're off duty Doc, I can do what I want."

****

Kyle was a coward, a terrorist killing, war criminal hunting coward, or at least that's how he felt watching you awkwardly dance with a man old enough to be your father.

"He's an earl, you know?" His team had been taking turns for the last hour and Soap's Scottish lit had only grown stronger as he got drunker, your disapproving looks only served to spur him on. "You're going to lose your lady to an old earl." He snorted as you pulled away. "Wait, no, she doesn't like him much." He slapped Gaz on the back, and it was hard enough for him to shift from his spot. "Go on laddie, before someone else steps in, you did tell her you'd dance with her."

Gaz sighed and downed the rest of his whiskey. "Right.." His shoulders fell. "I don't fucking know how to waltz."

Soap chuckled. "You'll do fine, just don't step on her lovey shoes."

He took another deep breath and stepped out onto the dance floor, heading right to you with determination. But any confidence he had faded like a dying star when you flashed him a smile. "Kyle, I thought you'd run off."

He shook his head. "No, we haven't danced yet, and I want to do that, with you."

You did your best to hold back your giggle. "Is that you asking me to dance?"

He nodded and squared his shoulders, extending his hand like a Victorian gentleman. "Y/n, may I have this dance?"

You nodded and took his hand. "I would like that very much."

You stayed at the edge of the dance floor as the soft music continued, taking a deep breath before addressing the elephant in the room. "When are we going to talk about what's going on between us?"

He managed to hold back his flinch, the hint of upset in your voice was enough to make his chest sting. "Now's as good as any time I guess."

You huffed. "You guess? We spent weeks sitting with each other by Soap's bedside after Makarov shot him, then he finally checked out and you almost kissed me and now you're acting like nothing happened."

His eyes fell to the floor. "I know, I didn't know where to start. I didn't want to fuck things up."

You smiled softly and lifted a hand to his cheek. "You won't, don't worry."

The tension bled from his body as he resisted the urge to nuzzle into your palm. "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded. "I would like that."

He leaned down, his nose brushing yours, before pulling you into a kiss. It was soft, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin as the other hand splayed across your lower back. His chest swelled, so this is what love felt like, like drowning in a roaring river, all the sound sucked from the air while he got pulled into the undertow.

He pulled away and slid his hand up your body, uncaring of the people standing around watching. "The hotel gave us a room for the night, something about throwing us a thank you breakfast, you wanna save the cab fair and come to stay with me tonight?"

You nodded. "That's very thoughtful of you Kyle, shall we go now?"

His face broke into a grin, and he looped his arm around your lower back. "I like your thinking."

You slowed as you walked by the rest of the 141. "Get it off your chests now, you've all got one minute exactly."

Simon was silent, and Soap was so drunk that he was just smiling like a madman, so Price was the one to add his two cents. "Just use protection, I'm too young to be grandfather." Kyle's eyes went wide, and Price broke out into a belly laugh. "Off you go kids, go have fun."

You pulled Kyle away by the arm and waved. "I won't forget this."

The elevator ride was smooth and quick, and you were in his room in a flash. His lips found yours again, and you leaned against the door. His fingers slid around your body to find the opening of your dress. "You need to unlace the corset sweetheart."

He took a deep breath. "Right." He moved behind you, his hands never leaving your skin as they reached the bottom of the dress where the bow was tied. It took him a while, but the dress slowly loosened, and he slid his hands upwards to slip the cap sleeves off your shoulders. You stepped out, and his head tilted; he was expecting lace underwear, not more skirts.

"It's called a petticoat, it makes the dress more puffy." You took his hand and brought it to the hook and loop closure, and he struggled for a moment before that, too, came free.

He stretched his hand out, softly pinching the short silk dress that covered your skin. "A chemise, my dear, it stops the corset boning from pressing against the skin."

He grabbed the hem with a soft smile. "Can I?"

You nodded. "Of course." He marvelled at the softness of the silk as it came off, and his breath caught in his chest as he took in your bare flesh. His fingers reach out, brushing your flesh with a gentleness that didn't seem possible for hands so calloused. You took his hand and placed it flat on your breast, and he seemed stuck dumb. "Are you alright Sweetheart?"

He nodded. "Oh, I'm fucking great. Shit, I think you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen."

You smiled. "Ok, you're very overdressed."

His dress greens were suddenly even tighter and scratchier and that was saying something. "Yes I am."

You reached up and slid the coat from his shoulder, placing it on the nearby chair before you turned your attention to his shirt buttons. "Ok then, I guess we should fix that."

He nodded. "You should." He grinned and kissed you again, deeper this time with a promise of things to come. "I love you y/n."

You sighed as your hands hit the hard, warm muscle of his torso. "I love you too Kyle."

Fin

@chaos-4baby @candy616 No idea if this is your thing so no pressure.

[lixenn]

OCtober 2024 day 1: fav OC

To no ones surprise my favourite is my main guy Daniele Costa aka Chief because let's be real here I can talk about him for ages. I love Dave to bits but Chief was my first proper OC for a fanfic and I'm most familiar with him. He accompanied me through tough times (aka thesis hell) and through him I was able to meet you guys! And I love you all to bits! So Chief is my dude! My tired bean that is in desperate need of a vacation and a nap (I think he might also be my fav because I relate to him so much lmao).

I made the drawing but I've also written a snippet where I used @zoroara's OCtober prompt day 1: foamy as a writing prompt (just so people are aware: I'm sticking to the #bweirdoctober prompts for this year but I had this snippet pre-written for ages and I don't wanna just let it let it rot in my documents. So I hope it's alright that I add this here 👉👈)

@myrmyrtheorca have Sam :)

The washroom looked like a bomb exploded in it. Foam everywhere, floor just one big puddle of water, one wall absolutely riddled with suspicious cracks and the washing machine was smoking like chimney in a frosty winter. At this point Dan feared stepping into the room just in case the ceiling would fall on his head.

He pinched his nose, once again regretting well … every single choice that brought him to this moment.

“Why?”

His question resembled more of a plea for divine intervention than an actual inquiry.

Why indeed.

Why is he awake at - he checked his watch - way-too-fucking-early o’clock? Why is he dealing with this? Why did he ever decide to work for the Varia? Once again, why is he awake right now?

“Ummm…”

He turned to his subordinates who had grouped themselves together in a trembling pile, which probably functioned as some form of moral support.

Dan narrowed his eyes at the pile not bothering to find out who actually spoke up.

“Well,” he said, tapping his foot. “Why am I here?”

A panicked and telepathic exchange of looks followed to determine which poor schmuck would need to answer his question. In the end Sam - four months, cleaning crew, allergic against bees - was shoved to the front like a sacrificial lamb. She was certainly shaking like one.

Honestly, it’s not like he will eat them. Unlike Vlasta he had standards for what entered his mouth.

Dan raised his eyebrow at the woman who clearly wished for the ground to swallow her whole.

“I am waiting.”

Her eyes skittered around the room steadily avoiding his gaze until they eventually focus on the broken washing machine. Resigned, she slumped into herself.

“The washing machine blew up.”

“Clearly,” Dan said, his tone the only dry thing in the entire room. “This doesn’t answer my question.” He stepped closer to his subordinate, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face until she was caught directly in his piercing stare.

“Tell me, Sam, why has Varia’s Chief of Staff been dragged out of bed to deal with one. Singular. Destroyed. Room?”

To her credit Sam did neither break eye contact nor did she start crying. However, her skin took a rather ashen parlour and if she bit her lip any harder there would be blood dropping down her chin.

“I- we- ummm…” she stuttered, trying to come up with some excuse that would save this situation.

Dan simply waited. And waited. And waited some more. In the end the silence dragged on for too long and Sam looked one second away from a panic attack, so he came to the conclusion that his last lecture of being kept in the loop had backfired on him. Apparently, his employees took the subject matter so much to heart and are now running to him in a panic for the most trivial of matters.

Time to correct that misconception.

He let go of Sam and addressed the hoard in its entirety.

“I was told it was emergency. Do you know what I qualify as an emergency?” He didn’t give them an opportunity to answer and started counting off incidents on his fingers. “Any of the assassin's going on a rampage. The castle actively burning down. PoisonChem messing with the water supply again. Or God forbid, my coffee supply mysteriously vanishing. You know what isn’t included on that list? Property destruction so minor it doesn't even make a dent into our repair budget.”

He crossed his arms, his whole being screaming displeasure and disappointed in all of their decision making skills. “Now, you are going to clean up this mess.” One of the newbies in the hoard furrowed his eyebrows, rebellion clear on his face.

Well, we can’t have that.

Dan clicked his tongue. “I will hear no argument. Apparently you weren’t able to deal with this yourself, since you deemed my presence a necessity. Well, here I am, giving you the orders you needed. Sort this out, get the Reps for the wall and ask Logistics if they have a spare washing machine on hand.” His words were met with frozen bodies and blank stares. “Did I fucking stutter? Move it!”

What followed could only be described as productive chaos which was an accurate summary of day to day happenings of Varia Housekeeping. It involved a lot of swearing, whacking people with brooms and the occasional breakdown about the horror of the week. How any cleaning gets done in this process was a mystery to Dan, but he will not argue with the results (unless the results are sloppy in which case he will make arrangements).

He turned to leave, fully intending to crawl under his blanket again. But before fully exiting the room, he looked back once more.

“And Sam?”

“Y-yes?”

“I want a full report on the culprits of this mess. Have it on my desk on Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!” she squeaked. “But Chief, it’s Monday!”

His smile was neither kind nor particularly nice. “Better hurry then.”

[providencehq]

Power House AU: I've absolutely loved all the additions and directions people took this post where Danny is captured by the Justice League and I wanted to share my general thoughts on where it would go after that but I'm also lazy so it's just this since I'm tired and don't want to draw.

The JL attempts to interrogate him but fails as Phantom is unresponsive for the majority of the time.

They struggle trying to identify exactly why he isn't responsive considering he has either fully ran from members or quickly attempt to fight them if they try to interact with him.

Somehow, someway, when they're moving Phantom to a new location in the Watch Tower to get a medical check since they're getting worried that after a few days, he's remained the same.

Phantom proceeds to freak the fuck out in the nicest of terms when he's taken to their medical wing and manages to slip out from whoever was taking him.

He's in full panic mode now and he NEEDS to get out even with the suppression cuffs on him so he's dashing blindly in the watch tower.

He manages to make way to the Zeta tubes and somehow manages to make them function and he's teleported away (not Danny's intention, he was just running and it went off at the worst time.)

He doesn't know where he's at on Earth but he's immediately running either way to get away.

Certain members of the League Zeta'd right behind him and are now looking for him.

Danny gets the suppression cuffs and collar and transform right before they can catch him.

They let him leave as they're informed by Batman that they have enough information on him that with a lot of leg work, they may be able to find who he really is since they have now both seen his human and "meta" side of him. Batman does reveal that due to something with biology, they won't be able to find any DNA matches and much of the video recordings of him are difficult to make out even if they're from the Watch Tower.

Danny escapes back to Central City and tries his best to return to a normal college life. He's slightly upset since they managed to pull him away, leaving him little time to study for an upcoming exam.

A few more weeks pass and Batman with the help of Flash manage to find out who Phantom is. A young college student in Central City and is funnily enough working at S.T.A.R. Labs as an intern. Bright future ahead and seems like no one who would have a potential in being a hero/vigilante but digging enough into his past they believe that if anything, it seems like another case of how the Flash came to be except a whole different set of powers.

They decide the best way to get Phantom is to corner him as a civilian in public.

Bart Allen, Hal Jordan, and J'onn J'onzz go as a group of civilians to intervene with Danny as he's leaving one of his campuses buildings.

They make themselves known to Danny and that it would be a mighty bad time to try to fight back or get away as they're all so exposed in public (not really, they're talking alone between some buildings). They make it known that they only want to ask questions and they have concerns about whatever is going on with him (being Phantom, his rogues, fighting the League, clearly fighting alone, etc.)

Danny decides the risk is worth it and tries to make a run for it before even speaking a word to them. Clearly doesn't work out as they expect him to either run or fight them. Barry manages to get to him and place suppression cuffs and collar back on him fairly easily before Danny could transform thanks to super speed.

They're not happy clearly with Danny still not cooperating but it's expected. The three inform Danny that he is now being held by the League until they can determine the best next step.

For the first time, Danny speaks to them and says "You can't do that! Finals are in two weeks! What the fuck am I suppose to do that? It's literally my second final semester!"

It doesn't work and Danny finds himself taken back to the Watch Tower to be once again interrogated. It's back to square one with Danny/Phantom. He isn't responding to any of their questions but this time rather out of a sense of protection of his self and mind, it's out of pure spite. They're making him miss his finals, of course he's going to give them nothing in return.

The most they're able to get out of him at one point is that why should he trust them? Why should he trust heroes who only care about themselves and their image? Even if he's young and inexperienced, he does his job and does it quick and they need to leave him alone.

It's implied he doesn't trust the older heroes in any regard and this is true, they only want to learn how he got his powers, where his rouges are from, and why he fought and ran from the League. Nothing else, nothing more.

Danny/Phantom doesn't trust the League in any regard so why should he even attempt to cooperate?

And that's all I have :)

[amybizarre]

Angels and Demons AU

Can be applied to any series of the Steve Cinematic Universe, or anything really. The concept is quite versatile.

This is an old AU I made back in 22. Recently got back into it and the concept and thought I'd share! And, yes, I know, this kind of AU has been done all over the place, but this is different, I promise! Just hear me out-

AU under the cut. :3

Despite this specific concept having been done a loooot, here we go! All the good guys are angels and the bad guys are demons. But I'd like to add some more depth and a twist to it! It's not just gonna be: "Oh, this guy is an angel, this one is a demon!" No. There's different kinds of angels and demons. And there won't be any shapeshifting. One cannot hide who or what they are. You' re an angel? Well damn, you can't hide your wings from anyone! You're a demon? Same story with your horns, claws or whatever.

About the different types:

Angels are generally based on birds, which also defines what their wings and tails will look like. For example: A Falcon-Angel. A very fast and skilled flyer with usually good eyesight and beige-brown spotted wings. Or a Dove-Angel: Bright white wings and usually very patient and kind.

There's also a clearly set hierarchy for angels, which says that certain types of angels are "purer" or "cleaner" than others. The concept behind this order is the following: The brighter and whiter your wings are, the higher you stand in the hierarchy. Highest are of course any white kinds of birds, followed by colorful birds like parrots or hummingbirds. Then come any brownish kinds of birds. Closely behind those come greyish patterned ones and then black-and-white birds. At the very bottom are black kinds of birds.

Therefore, how you are treated by other angels and what your job and place in society is, strongly depends on the color of your wings. Are they white, you're basically royalty. Are they black.... Let's just say you're pretty much fucked-

Yeah! I think it's needless to say that angels have established a functioning society with set rules and stuff like that.

Demons on the other hand are much more primitive. They either live alone as rogues or band together in small packs, clans, groups, whatever. Main rules always are: Eat or be eaten. Kill or be killed. Be strong and live or be weak and die.

Yeah, it sucks to be a demon. (But it can also suck to be an angel, if you're unlucky-)

Demons are based on all other kinds of animals aside birds. They can also be sorted into several categories: Common, semi-rare, rare and legendary. The closer an animals abilities, that the demon is representing, are to flying, the rarer they are. Or their diet also determines how rare a kind is.

Predatorial kinds like wolf-demons are quite common, but herbivores like goats are already semi-rare, because I can imagine it being quite hard to survive as a peaceful plant-eater, when everyone else around you is a predator. But that means, since herbivores are semi-rare, they're also more powerful. I like to think, that they can tank a lot more hits than a common demon. Any animal-type that is capable of gliding around, like certain types of squirrels (I don't know their name rn) is rare, not because of their diet, but because the angels would hunt them down. More about the conflicts later though. And the legendary demons are animal-types besides birds that can fly. Like bats for example. Or fantasy animals like dragons or even phoenixes.

These demons might be so rare, that only a couple of them have been known to have existed throughout the entire history of this realm. Hence the classification "Legendary". They're also insanely powerful and no-one knows their true full potential, for it has never been seen before.

Now about the conflicts: Angels view the sky as sacred and worship it. They have sworn to keep it "pure" and "clean". Which basically means that no other being is allowed to fly in it, other than angels themselves and birds. That is why they hunt and kill any demon, that looks like it could fly.

Angels generally view demons as uncultured, dirty and unpredictable animals. Which isn't necessarily true. Demons just don't have a complex society like angels do. And they don't have the opprtunity to build one in the first place, since the angels are secretly keeping them down.

Which in return has the demons mad and hating the angels. While the angels want to keep the demons low and on an animal like status, the demons want to overthrow the angels and destroy/ take over their society in return.

And it doesn't help, that angels and demons cannot touch each other. (TWIST!) It's the biggest reason for the separation and isolation between the two groups. If an angel and a demon (be it accidentaly) touched skin to skin, both of them would get burned, as if they've touched acid. If they touch skin to hair, feather or horn it would wither away, crumble apart and fall out altogehter, without ever growing back, leaving permanent damage in all cases.

A romance between angels and demons is therefore pretty much impossible. However, there is a type of gem, that allows such physical contact. If its harvested and broken into two pieces, with one of them being given to an angel and one to the demon, then these two can touch without burning. But only these two, and only if they're carrying the crystal in a way, that it's touching their skin.

Unfortunatley this gem is only considered a myth and nobody knows for sure if it exists or not.

Also, the angels live on floating islands high above ground, that can only be accessed via flight. The demons inhabit all groundland below.

Angels view any land below their islands as "dirty, forsaken and dangerous", since it's inhabited by the demons.

Possible Story Idea:

(For Steve Saga or Rainbow Quest) A short backstory on how Dark became Nightmare's ally? Dark isn't a demon. He is a raven-angel with the blackest wings ever seen. He's had it tuff with the angels and caused lots of trouble there. Eventually he got banned by the high council, which is one of the most horrible things that can happen to an angel. Getting banned means, that high officials will break an angels wings and throw them off the edge of their islands. If you survive the fall and what you do afterwards is all in your hands from there on. Anyways, Nightmare finds the badly injured and barely breathing Dark and drags him back to his den. There he originally planned on turning him into a pet of sorts, but when Nightmare discovers that Dark is driven by the same hate against angels than him, he quickly makes Dark his partner in crime instead.

[imtooscaredforthis]

Antagonist

Chapter Twenty Five: Red Handed

Mentions of: NSFW Mentions, Slight Voyeurism, Frank being a jealous bastard, Poor Leon, Stabbing, Hooking, Character Death (not rlly tho), cheating, and pining

A/N: I’m really happy w how this chapter turned out :))

Tags: @vandeaad @prettycutebunny @mama-miya

@dead-bxxxxtch-walking

Frank had fucked up…again. He sat outside the ski lodge, smoking a cigarette on the curb. He and Julie had gotten into yet another fight. This time it ended with him getting kicked out. Things had been escalating between them ever since what happened with you.

This is all your fault. You ended everything with him just because he lost his cool and said something he didn’t mean and now he has nowhere to go to unwind and he’s much more irritable than before. While The Legion is his family, the others aren’t completly understanding and Julie can be a bit much at times, always wanting to be with him, practically breathing down his neck. He used to find it endearing. No one had ever wanted to be around him that much before. Now it’s just irritating.

He wasn’t going to apologize. Not again. Not unless he thought he was wrong, which he wasn’t. It was your fault for having such high expectations of him. He had the role of a killer. You knew who and what he was, and you still trusted him anyway. You thought he actually cared.

He did care..kind of. He had grown accustomed to the Entity’s realm and he had no idea how he would function if he got back to the real world. This was probably the best outcome for him: hurting people and taking out all his pain, suffering, and rage, maximizing his true potential. He also had his group and you. He was mainly helping you because he was bored..at first..but then you got him all invested, and seeing how determined and happy you were made him feel weird and fuzzy inside.

When you started to get close he got scared. If you somehow managed to escape, he could lose you. He didn’t want that.

The two of you were so different, on opposite sides of the spectrum, and yet, he felt like no one understood him as well as you did. Julie understood his hatred and anger, she understood his desire to hurt. But you understood him, and what made him like this, what made him tick. You knew the suffering he’s gone through, and all the vulnerabilities he’s tried to cover up and bury. You saw through him, you knew what he really was, and you hung out with him anyway. Even the things you said about him during that fight were true..his fears of being alone, his loneliness, and his pain. You know him, and he doesn’t know if he loves or hates it.

He hasn’t seen you since your argument, not even in a trial. You were already punishing him, so of course The Entity had to too. Out of his stubbornness, he didn’t want to go back. A part of him hoped that you would come to him first. But you didn’t. You hadn’t even bothered to see Susie. He refused to ever think about it or even say it, but he missed you. There was a longing, a pull in his chest that made him desperately want to see you, to talk with you, to joke with you, to smoke with you…to touch you.

“Fuck it.” He muttered under his breath, putting out his cigarette. He swallowed his pride and slowly rose to his feet, setting out to see you.

–

The cabins were eerily quiet when he arrived. It was probably late at night for the survivors, he assumed. Taking a deep breath, he approached your cabin. He slowly crept out of the woods, seeing a warm light coming from your window. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought of seeing you, and he peeked through the window, unable to help himself, but what he saw made his heart drop.

You were fucking Leon.

He watched as your naked body moved over Leon’s in a hypnotic rhythm, your face contorted into a look of pure pleasure, your fingers threading through his hair while he sucked on your breast.

It was like a car crash. He couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. Even though fiery and painful feelings of jealousy were rising in his chest, even though he wanted to tear Leon’s head off, he kept watching.

You were beautiful and mesmerizing and he couldn’t tell what he wanted more, to have Leon gone so he could get a better view, or if he could be in Leon’s place, having you ride him to your heart’s content.

God, he wanted you but he was also so fucking angry. His face was all flushed and his cock was getting hard and his hands were balled up into tight fists, tight enough for his nails to dig into his skin.

So he stayed and watched until even after you were finished and he left, even after you had fallen asleep. He stood and stared at you for a very long time until he was inevitably summoned to a trial.

–

“Where’s Leon?” You asked Feng. There had been no sign of him since the start of the trial, nor had there been a sign of a killer. At first you thought that was a good thing, but Leon could only hold the killer off for so long.

She winced. “He’s getting tunneled. Don’t worry about him. It’ll do us all some good. We only have two generators left after all.”

“I guess so.” You muttered. Once you finished the generator, you split away from Feng, searching for Leon.

It didn’t take long to find him hanging from a hook, but you didn’t expect Frank to be his killer. You watched as he struck Leon repeatedly, stabbing him with his knife while he was on the hook, making him cry out more. Normally, you would walk away and take your teammate’s sacrifice, but because it was Leon and Frank, you decided to do something about it.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hissed, striding up to Frank. Leon hoarsely whispered your name, warning you. You weren’t afraid. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He ignored you and continued to cut Leon up.

“Frank, Frank! Will you quit acting like a fucking brat and talk to me?” You stepped in front of Leon, grabbing Frank’s arm mid-strike. Leon was confused by how willing you were to be so close to the killer and how unafraid you were. Not to mention how you were talking to him with such familiarity. It was strange.

Finally, he turned to face you and tore his hand from your grip, the expression on his face icy and cold. He glowered at you. “I know what happened with you and Leon. I saw it.”

As the realization hit you, your face suddenly felt really hot and you felt a mix of anger, embarrassment, and confusion. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a loud noise rang in your ears and the ground trembled. You gazed up at the sky, watching as Leon’s lifeless body was lifted into the dark cloud in the sky, sacrificed to The Entity.

You frowned at Frank. “We’ll talk about this later.”

[catboybiologist]

Unprompted fucking rant time!

I'm getting my PhD after getting my BS and my Master's. I've gone through three separate rounds of university applications. And while I'm openly a bisexual trasfemme now, I've done every round of those applications as a cishet white boy. I've been rejected by a shitton of universities, and accepted by a fraction of that. My current institution is an R1 for my field- basically meaning it's in the highest tier of research funding and therefore research prestige/output- but it's very far from a household name the way Harvard or Stanford is. My undergrad institution was the cheapest local four year college that I was guaranteed admission to because my high school grades were piss poor due to an array of mental health problems.

So from that perspective.... Race and ethnicity demographics should 100% be used as a factor in determining admissions to help increase diversity. There's many reasons to think this, but there's two that underline a lot of my thinking on the matter.

Number one is kind of obvious, but what isn't obvious is how blatant it is. The top tier of universities has blatantly favored white people for generations, oftentimes explicitly. And oftentimes, they still do! Having relatives working at a particular university, or being alumni from a university, is literally part of the application materials for many of these universities. During my Harvard grad school apps, they literally had a pop-up window that asked me to check off any wealthy families I was a part of from a list of donor and alumni last names. It was so fucking blatant that I bust out laughing. Spoiler alert, I didn't get in. You cannot look at me with a straight face and tell me that these universities should be allowed to openly and blatantly give admission priority to rich, white, dynastic American families, while not affording any concession for overcoming the shittiness of being born into a persecuted group.

Number two is the thing that most people realize, but I don't think has really sunk in on a societal level. A massive factor in admissions is blind, dumb luck, and I'm not joking. When admissions tells you they received more qualified applicants than they could admit, it's 100% true. Many applications end up in a stage where they just have to randomly reject people to keep numbers down- or even if it's not completely random, they have to grasp for straws into an enormous amount of intangible factors that have nothing to do with someone's actual qualifications. So if you're down to that level of grasping at straws.... Why not use it as an opportunity to increase diversity? Because as it stands, you're not getting rejected because you're white- you're getting rejected because your high school didn't have a fucking sailing team. Remember that Stanford admissions scandal a while back?

There's a number two and a half that is an observation I've had about life in general here: one of my deepest held beliefs after going through a good portion of my early career is that everyone is overqualified for the opportunities they've been given. If your education system is genuinely functional, you'll be able to take people from an amazing diversity of backgrounds, and y'know... Educate them. If these universities lowered their admissions standards a shitton, and randomly pulled from the new pool of "less qualified" people, and they put them in an environment with access to the same resources as before... They would succeed.

There's a whole other rant embedded here about how elite-tier university education actually sucks, and all they do is filter for people who already have massive educational resources of their own. University prestige is mostly a lie, except in terms of how much grant funding you can get. But if you gave that level of funding to a state college tomorrow? They'd still do great things with it. But that's a side thought.

There's ALSO the side rant about why marginalized groups are important in science overall for perspectives on how science interacts with society, but that's also a whole other rant.

There's one thing I will say against this: sometimes, it's too late. For grad school and a little bit for undergrad admissions, an enormous amount of unpaid labor and study is required to even be eligible for the application itself. Required undergrad research hours are often unpaid. My undergrad research advisor paid her student labor when she wasn't required to, and surprise surprise, she has one if the most diverse and successful labs on that campus. Beyond just undergrad research, this goes waaayyyy back to the schooling and tutoring opportunities that people from higher socioeconomic backgrounds have access to from day one... But that's also a larger side rant. Point is, race based admissions are valid and necessary now, but they're a temporary bandage on the bleeding wound that is education discrepancy.

This was kinda random, but this got kick-started by an IRL discussion with a couple of friends and I just needed to vent my whole perspective here. Idk if the community of voyeuristic transfemmes I've mostly accumulated here will care, but it's nice to just type these things sometimes lol

[ariswolfram]

Who the fuck am i?

Guess what, this post is here to explain that.

Side blog focused on TTRPG details: @karmasystem

As a reminder:

You can use my stories, species, and lore as long as you give credit to me.

Hello! I am Aris!

I am the writer and storyteller for a very extensive setting, which i like to call either the Singural Hyperion, or (most recently) Asterium Prima.

Every story, book, and other piece of media i make is intertwined into this story in one way or another. Always leading back the main crew you might find me talking about a lot.

I have over 600 characters (its a problem, i know), each with their own background and storyline.

Alongside that, i have hundreds of different factions/empires that interact with each other in different ways. And, just about 100 Deities in a self-made pantheon called the "Hyperion Astra" (including Athena, though she has a very different domain).

My setting works with possibilities and change a lot.

It has a fully functional timeline (with the current "present" year being in the 18,900's), with time travel being a common factor in everything.

Alongside that, i have made a planescape for factors determining how the "material plane" or "mortal coil" functions, and a Dimension system, for even more chaos cause why not :)

My setting is a mixture between Sci-fi and fantasy, while also heavily being Xenofiction in nature.

Most of the time, you will see the setting interacting with its self in space, across various different systems, sectors, galaxies, universes, and multiverses.

BUT WHY STOP THERE??

Ever heard of the omniverse theory?

Its effectively a group of space that is a collective of multiverses together.

Each Omniverse is inherently different than another, as if a different type of story all together. For instance: Singularity (the main omniverse i work with) is like our real world, only if it was heavily reliant on magic tech.

Meanwhile, Wylrin is effectively completely comprised of the Fae, and Fae entities.

Each omniverse is a different story medium.

If you cant tell, i like changing my stories up. I like writing different things.

Another thing that helps, is the timelines.

The main timeline which is considered "cannon" is called the "Major". This timeline is effectively the master branch for all others. Changes done to the Major changes all other timelines.

Every event done by every person creates a split in the timeline, one split being one result of their actions, and another split being a different result.

This can range from small things, like choosing between tea and coffee. Or large things, like choosing to betray someone or not.

This gives me infinite timelines, and infinite possibilities. Which i personally find a lot of fun exploring.

I like to expand on and build my story. And so you may see me posting a lot of random things based around it.

One thing you have to keep in mind though, is i love to take suggestions, and i love to use prompts. Ask me anything or give me a prompt, and i am sure to answer!

Anyways, that is all for now. Though i may update this in the future. Cya!

[dreamersbcll]

“I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me”

- whumptober, prompt no. 19

(stop treating me like a little kid. i’m not stupid)

——————————————————————————-

All her life, Tara has been pushed around.

It was hereditary, she supposed. The younger child always got the shaft. The eldest was gifted with wisdom, strength, and courage, and the younger one got a hug if they were lucky. It wasn’t fair. Tara was just as capable as Sam- even if they were five years apart.

But it never mattered what she thought anyway. Everybody looked down on her for who she was. Sure, she had a permanent limp and a scarred hand that would never entirely function the same- and maybe she was covered with more scars than kisses. None of that was her fault. Everybody in this group had some sort of stab wound or scar, some multiple. Yet Tara was always looked down on for her vices.

For a while, it didn’t bother her as much. It was pretty nice having Sam back and present in her life. She liked having someone to cuddle with and eat every meal with. It was also really nice having the twins near and Kirby and Gale available at the drop of a hat. It felt like a family. It was a scarred, dysfunctional, strange family, but a family nonetheless.

Everything was going so well. And then he returned.

Ghostface never left them alone, and when he came back, he came back with a fury.

The worst part was that her family, her friends, held a meeting without her— while she had a night class. Like she was a joke.

Surveying the room before her, she saw Mindy and Chad sharing the couch Sidney and Gale pacing the living room. Gale sat on the floor, Sam and Kirby above her, speaking in hushed tones. Nobody noticed that she had entered, too busy in their world.

Tara wasn’t an idiot. She knew he was back. They didn’t all gather like this on a whim for no reason. But what pissed her off the most was the fact that they were all having a meeting without her. Like her opinion wasn’t valued or needed. Like she was useless.

Determined to prove she wasn’t, she stormed in, eyes blazing in rage. As she entered the living room, the whispering stopped, and focused eyes grew wide in shock, the air suddenly ceasing.

Everyone but Sam shut up, and that infuriated Tara even more. How dare her big sister act like she wasn’t the most important thing in the room, like their relationship wasn’t worth anything. How dare Sam hide from her, especially after they promised to do everything together.

It's good to know Sam was still capable of breaking promises.

“Listen, she doesn’t get a weapon. You know it’s a bad idea. I can’t have that-” Sam whispered intently, her eyes solely on Kirby.

Kirby’s eyes widened at the sight of the furious Carpenter sister, and she elbowed Sam to get her to stop talking. “Sam, I think you should shut up now.”

Sam blinked. “What? Why? All I’m saying is that Tara doesn’t get a weapon, that’s-”

“-No, Sam,” Tara interrupted, getting in front of her big sister’s face.

Both Gale and Kirby moved away, sensing a family affair. The twins and Sidney quieted and watched everything go down before them. Mindy even got her phone out to record.

Without slowing down, Sam just furrowed her brow at Tara as if she was the one being unreasonable. “What? Tara, what are you doing here? This isn’t in the plan-”

Tara laughed coldly. Of course, Sam couldn’t remember Tara’s school schedule. Her thirst for power ended up in wanton disregard for her little sister. Typical. “-Quiet. Give me a fucking knife, Sam. A gun, maybe. I’m not going at this unprepared,” she hissed.

Her big sister snorted, shaking her head. Crossing her arms, she spoke to Tara like she was five years old again, enunciating slowly so her little sister could understand. “What the fuck? No. No, you’re not getting a weapon. I can protect you.”

Sneering, Tara crossed her arms. “Oh yeah? Like you protected me the last ten years? Like how you were there when Amber jumped me? Oh, wait! You weren’t there, and I suffered!”

As if the air was sucked out of the room, everyone stayed silent. They all knew it was a low blow by Tara, but not unwarranted. They were meeting without her, purposefully, as if Tara wasn’t a part of this whole shitstorm.

Sam sucked in a deep breath, her eyes darkening in anger. “That’s not fair, and you know it,” she whispered, glowering down at Tara.

Tara threw her hands up in the air. This was not the point. She would apologize later. “Give me a fucking knife, now. I’m not going at this bare-handed!”

“You can’t be trusted with a weapon!” Sam retorted back, her hackles rising.

Rolling her eyes, Tara got up in Sam’s face. “How do you know that? I’m sorry; I’m not predisposed to violence. I’m sorry, I’m not of Loomis blood. Give me the goddamn weapon, now,” she hissed.

Sidney, knowing it was about to get ugly, made a move behind her, closing in slowly, ready to pull her back. Gale and Kirby got closer to Sam, knowing it would take two to subdue the eldest. The twins stayed glued on the couch, watching intensely.

Chad interrupted the argument, clearly not knowing his place. “Tara, come on. Don’t act like this. You know we can’t give you a weapon. You’re like, small,” he gently said, shrugging.

Mindy slapped her head, groaning. Both Carpenter sisters glare at Chad, watching as the boy shrinks in on himself.

“Chad. Stay the fuck out. And just because I’m short doesn’t mean shit. Kirby gets a weapon!” Tara half-yelled, her hands clenched at her side.

Kirby shrugged. “Special Agent Kirby gets a weapon for obvious reasons.”

Tara groaned, narrowing her eyes at the woman. “Seriously? You're the one who taught me how to load a gun, and you’re using that cop-out answer?”

“She WHAT?” Sam shouted, whipping around to face Kirby.

The woman held her hands up in defense. “Hey, she said you okay’d it!”

“Kirby!”

Sam ran her hands through her hair, gripping onto her scalp. She breathed deeply, trying to control her anger. Tara could tell she was digging into a nerve, and she wasn’t about to back down.

Breathing out, Sam spoke through clenched teeth. “No. I’m not doing this anymore. Talk a walk if you’re so pissed. Come back when you stop acting like a little kid.”

“I’m not stupid, Sam! I know how to handle a weapon. I’m twenty-two years old. Let me have a fucking chance. If he’s back- if Ghostface is back- I should have something,” Tara retorted, her nails digging into her palms.

“If you’re going to act like a child, you’re not getting a weapon. Go cool off. Now,” Sam barked, pointing at the door.

Her anger boiling over, Tara blew up. She marched towards her room but stopped, facing the group.

“Fuck you, Sam. Fuck all of you. None of you give a damn about my safety- it’s all about you. All of you left me behind at one point or another. Especially you, Sam. God. I don’t even know why I fucking try!” she yelled, taking in everybody’s wide-eyed gazes.

Nobody said anything, nobody defended. The twins turned back to face Sam, the other four adults turning away from Tara as if she were a petulant, whiny child not worth entertaining. Like she was a stupid kid with no worth. Suddenly, Tara felt seven years old again, begging to her parents, who would never give her the time of day no matter how much she cried.

Turning on her heel, Tara made her way to her room. She didn’t spend much time in this room, as she slept in Sam’s, but she still slammed the door hard enough for the minimal wall decorations to fall. She didn’t fucking care. If they wouldn’t listen to her, she wouldn’t play nice.

She kicked at the piles of clothes lying haphazardly on the ground and angrily wiped the hot tears of shame off her face. God. She was such a little kid. Even at twenty-two years old, nobody could take her seriously. She almost died multiple times because of this Ghostface clown.

Was she not yelling loud enough to be considered?

Slumping onto the ground, she put her head into her hands, crying a bit. She didn’t care if anyone heard. It’s not like they were coming for her anyway.

Her phone ringing in her pocket stopped her crying session, and without looking at the I.D., she answered.

“What do you want?” she said thickly, wiping her nose.

And there he was. That stupid voice modulator was alive and crackling in her ear. But instead of fear, all Tara could feel was smug rage. Of course, he would target her when she was the only one without a weapon. How poetic.

“Hello, Tara. You look beautiful today, so why are you crying? Say, I’ve got an idea. Let's say we play a game, yeah?”

Instead of being wise and hanging up, or better yet, alerting her family, she decided to play along. What did it matter? It’s not like they would listen to her anyway.

“Alright. I’m listening. What’s your game?”

She swore she could hear him smile through the mask. Good. At least someone wanted her company. Even if he wanted to hurt her, Tara was brilliant. She was cunning.

Tara would show them that she was worthy of carrying a weapon, of being involved. She would show them what happens when you push her too far.