#I’ve imaged things before but not with this model computer and I didn’t feel like doing everything from scratch

[verynonyideas]

My nerdling ass, cloning my hard drive for the first time: “I feel like a mad scientist. I feel glorious!”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

best laid plans, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the middle of the night. You’re asleep next to your model boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, who is jacking off while touching your tits. Wait. Hold on a second. What? (He is still your model boyfriend though, even after all that.)

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m-masturbation, handjob (while sucking on JK’s balls, lucky guy), tiny bit of nipple play and pussy slapping, edging, cowgirl, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts and i did make a Dynamite lyric reference with JK’s dick and you can’t stop me

yes, the title is a pun, channeling my inner seokjinnie it’s what you think it is and it’s also not

–

Your dreams were always vivid and intense. 

Was it normal to have movie-level, hyperdetailed, sometimes not even involving you or anyone you knew (at least consciously), insane storyline dreams on a constant basis (without medication causing them)? You know, maybe not. You should get that checked out. But not today, because this is not the story about that (you really should get that checked out).

This is the story about you dreaming about your boyfriend jacking off next to asleep you and then realizing it was not a dream. 

At first you were like, man, that sure sounds like Jeon Jungkook breathing hard. Was he working out? Why are you having dreams about Jungkook working out? That's literally the most pointless, mundane dream you could ever have. Also, you weren't seeing anything, just blackness. What was the damn point of this dream you couldn't even look at him?

(To be honest, that’s very rude of you, brain.)

Jungkook always asked you to work out at home with him but, one, he was annoying as fuck to work out with because all he did was stare at you ("oh yeah, my bad for thinking you're sexy, holy shit, what a crime to think my girlfriend and future wife is hot!"); two, you literally had zero motivation to work out (not lazy, just, you know, didn't give a shit and Jungkook called that your great flaw of being his perfect girlfriend – but he loved all your soft bits so he was sending you mixed messages, tsk tsk); and finally, three, it always led up to fucking, so why go through all that trouble hyping yourself up in your leggings and sports bra, only to spend five minutes in them and forty-five doing a whole different kind of workout that didn't require clothes?

Exactly. 

Just skip that shit and get to the naked part. 

Oh, right, back to the whole deep-breathing Jungkook and you seeing darkness thing. 

Sometimes you had dreams with only sound and very little visual. It was disorienting, giving you the feeling of being trapped in a maze with no way out (dream analysts would be all over that shit) and once the images returned, you were usually naked (psychologists would have a field day with that). But this time, you were unmoving. Listening to tense inhale, drawn-out exhale, over and over, and you only recognized it as Jungkook because he did that thing where he sucked on his teeth a little, making that almost inaudible hiss noise. 

You felt heavy, tired, sluggish, as if you were dragging yourself through mud, in between the brink of conscious and subconscious, in that brief moment where you could control the dream but not your body, that little pocket of utopia. You searched for Jungkook in the darkness, curious to find him, and you couldn't, but he seemed to be beside you, to your right, where he usually was when you slept. Next to you, sometimes snoring so you'd have to smack him in the chest and he'd snort and stop (for a hot second, then you'd roll him to his side so at least he wouldn't be snoring in your ear). His pectoral muscles were bigger lately (you hated working out but you sure as hell didn't hate Jungkook working out) and the slapping sound was pretty satisfying now, palm to hard muscle. 

Kind of like the sound right now. 

Wait. 

You weren't slapping Jungkook's pecs.

You furrowed your brows. Huh? Why were you hearing that soft smacking sound over and over, Jungkook's low hiss and then your name in a deep hazy whisper and why was your front cold? You usually slept with only panties, no bra, but you weren't usually cold up top – that's what the linen duvet was for (you paid way too much for that, but you saw it on Instagram and, hey, it's your money, go off) and, to be honest, you used to be a cute pajamas person but, ever since you started living with Jungkook, he wanted you to wear as much as he did when he slept (read: literally only his boxer briefs). Lots of begging (and him being on his knees for you) later, and now it was your habit to strip before sleeping.

Anyway, back to being cold. 

You scrunched up your face and listened to the labored breathing in your right, a hand drifting on your stomach, tracing your bellybutton, moving up, light, delicate touches, the sound of skin on skin. A gentle fingertip brushed your nipple. 

You cracked your eyes open.

There was a tiny bit of light from your computer, the RGB keyboard casting a faint rainbow. You shifted your eyes to your right.

Jungkook's left arm was in an awkward position, softly caressing your nipple as he violently pumped his dick. 

On the bed. 

Underwear gone.

On the floor? Probably. 

He looked pretty damn hard. (Nice.) 

Your eyes floated to his face and his eyes were closed, mouth open, trying not to make any noise, gasping your name. Shapely jaw, soft cheeks, dark lashes, ash blond hair framing his handsome features, so beautiful it was unreal. His head turned towards you and his dark brown eyes slowly opened, purring your name lovingly. 

"Yeah, Jungkook?"

You saw the single blissful second it took for Jungkook's brain to catch up. 

Then he choked.

On air and his dick by squeezing it far too hard in complete and utter shock. 

"HOLY FUCK!"

He yanked his hand back, off your chest (feels bad man) and released his cock, causing it to bounce a little in the air (kind of sexy, not gonna lie), both of them shooting up to cover his rapidly reddening cheeks, one tattooed, one not, his inked right arm tense and his hand glistening with points of pre-cum.

You blinked innocently at him. 

"Oh, shit, fuck, I'm so sorry, um, l–listen," he sputtered, dick still sticking straight up, completely oblivious to Jungkook's embarrassment (ignorance is bliss). "I... I have a good reason, I s-swear."

You rolled onto your side and squished your tits together. Jungkook's brain seemed to implode a little, staring at your squashed breasts and hard nipples like it was the first time (even though you knew he literally sees them at least once a day).

"You're horny?" 

Your voice cracked a little from sleep and you coughed to clear your throat (not sexy, but such is life). 

Jungkook's shaking pupils were too busy staring at your titties. "Y-Yeah, I just woke up randomly horny as fuck, but I know how much you hate having your sleep disturbed so I was just going to edge myself a little... well, maybe finish…"

"You masturbating while touching my tits is not going to disturb me?"

"I... I've done it before..."

???????

???????

"Uh..."

"I don't touch you very much!" Jungkook blurted, grabbing your hands. "P-Please don't be mad! I only touch you a little and always very carefully! I never try to take advantage, I'm just horny, please, please, please don't be mad!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and hugged you tightly. You grimaced, not because of the hug (Jungkook’s hugs were top tier), but because his hard dick jammed right into your thigh and smeared a giant line of pre-cum onto your skin (a little cold and not nearly as sexy as internet smut stories make it out to be, but maybe that was because you literally woke up to Jungkook jacking off without giving you so much as an invitation, rude). You gasped and retreated a little, but that made Jungkook try to grab you tighter and his cock bent upwards and jabbed you in the lower belly. 

Still leaking everywhere, by the way. 

"Oh shit–"

"Look here Excalibur, I'm not the stone waiting for the king," you winced, swiping your hand across your skin and wiping it on the side of his ass (hey, it's free real estate). Jungkook yelped, letting go of you. 

"Hey!"

"If you're horny, let's fuck, not joust. I don't have the proper equipment for that and I'm not an undercover Lancelot, as dope as that would be."

"I should be turned off by now," Jungkook muttered under his breath (probably cursing your poorly timed King Arthur jokes – you did have a tendency to wear your mind on your sleeve). "But I'm not because, fuck, look at this body..."

His hands were already running all over your skin and, if there was one thing Jungkook had an extra zest for, it was fucking you – all the time, twenty-four seven, rest in peace responsibilities if you ever decided to become a nudist, but thankfully you had self-control (not when it came to terrible jokes at inappropriate times though, that was your vice). However, sleepy you had less self-control and let him do whatever he wanted, running his fingers all over your chest, making you shiver and slide closer to him, rubbing your thigh against his length and he sucked in a breath, whispering your name hotly against your cheek.

"S-Stop, I'm going to get horny..."

"You're already horny," you hummed into his chin, running your fingers through his blond hair, closing your eyes again, listening to his soft moan against your cheek (he always sounded so good, so fucking sexy, it was sinful), your left hand sliding down between you both. his palms pressed into your breasts, squeezing them roughly as you cupped your hand around his length and balls (Jungkook was really warm and your hands were kind of cold, this turned out to be a win-win situation, sweet). You wound your fingers around his length with two fingers hooked around his balls, bouncing them lightly as you rubbed his velvety skin, sighing against his neck.

"Pog."

"Do not Twitch chat talk to my dick," Jungkook muttered. "Also, what kind of weak-ass handjob is this, are you just warming your cold-as-fuck fingers–" (well, shit) "–oh, fuck!"

You gripped his cock with your left hand and buried your fingers in his hair, tongue between your lips as you roughly stroked his length, making Jungkook squirm and gasp above you, jerking back. You kept your hold on him, tighter, feeling him swell and get harder, grinning, your eyes still closed, working him fast and firm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jungkook swore repeatedly, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers (damn, he was making you work to keep this smirk on your face, but it was worth), tendrils of pleasure snaking through you. You bit the side of your lip, increasing your pace, squeezing just under the head the way he liked, pre-cum pooling around the pocket of your index finger and thumb, adding lubrication.

"Stop, s-stop, I'm gonna e-explode," Jungkook moaned, planting his hands onto your tits and sinking his fingers in the softness once more (hello? where's the titty love, this ain't all about you, Jungkook). 

"I like dynamite," was you answer, cracking one eye open. "Light it up." 

Jungkook growled in his throat, glaring at you. "I swear to God, if you weren't so fucking hot, I'd be so fucking limp right no–aah, d-don't, oh fuuuck, please..."

You slid down the bed, switching hands, attaching your mouth to his balls (he was probably grateful for that, can't talk with a mouthful of nuts, sad) and put your breasts on his thigh, rubbing your nipples all over his hard muscle as you sucked, starting off slow, then faster and faster, one to the other, tongue all over, Jungkook loudly rambling nonsense above you (you weren't paying attention, you had a dick to jack off and some balls to rearrange with your masterful tongue) until Jungkook squealed at your firm grip on the head, cutting off his orgasm once again.

"Stop edging me," he hissed angrily above you.

You blew a raspberry on his nuts.

"A-ah, fuuuuuuuuck!"

Oh, that turned out to be more pleasurable than either you or Jungkook imagined, because his eyes were gigantic and his hips were furiously humping your hand, but you weren't holding him tight enough for him to cum. You raised your eyebrows at him and Jungkook gave you the most displeased expression he could muster (he looked cute as fuck, a complete fail), ash blond strands clinging to his forehead, nose scrunched up.

"That was for jacking off without me," you tutted.

"You would have gotten pissed if I woke you up to fuck," he pouted.

"I need beauty sleep to be beautiful."

"I hear facials actually help quite a lot."

You burst out laughing and Jungkook followed suit, his rich, full, almost wheezing laugh, until he realized you had swiped a condom from the nightstand (yup, they were casually in a little moon-shaped dish by the bed next to the chap stick and phone charger, says a lot about you two), fitted it on him, and then you sat on his dick.

"W-Wait – oooooooh, fuck!"

You waited a second for your body to adjust, forcefully stretched out by his thick girth, but it wasn't that bad when you were controlling your muscles and expecting it, so you started rocking your hips after the second, sighing in satisfaction. Jungkook's eyes rolled back into his head, his long fingers bunching up on his chest, raising his ass to get deeper with every slap of hips to hips, your body talking to his, heat rising through you, branching out your spine and to your limbs, the best kind of workout (your only workout, be honest here), clenching your core, making Jungkook snap his head back in panic, shaking his head furiously.

"I'm g-gonna cum if you keep going l-like that..."

You leaned down, brushing his hands away and spreading your fingers over his pecs, running your nails over his hard nipples. Jungkook whimpered, chewing on his lip, you turning the tempo from a fast one to a longer, slower, more complete stroke from head to base, soft ass smacking his soft balls. He looked up at you, moaning softly, pupils blown wide, rainbow shadows over his face (damn, he's pretty, eleven out of ten, for sure), gasping your name, his hands finding your forearms and caressing them, eyelashes fluttering.

"O-oh, fuck, p-please... faster... wanna cum... you're so fucking sexy... ah, fuck, wanna cum for you..."

No one could say no to that, especially not you.

You slid your arms down to the bed, right beside his head, and increased the force, intensifying it all, Jungkook's fingers flying up and holding onto your nipples, the sheer wildness of your own pace tugging and pulling on them, your breathing deepening, panting hard, wispy and hot, his name on your lips, pleasure all over, passionately fucking him into the bed, and him jutting his hips back into your soaked walls, throbbing against the tightness, so hot, fire coursing through you, your juices soaking his crotch and balls.

“Jungkook, oh, fuck, yes...”

You squeezed him hard and Jungkook thrust into you with a groan, all hardness and thickness violently burying itself into your overwhelming heat and you moaned lustfully, pussy shuddering around his wonderful cock, feeling it shiver repeatedly, his orgasm filling up the condom so much that you felt the latex stretch inside you, jarring jerks with each of Jungkook's soft cries, his head shoved into the pillows, blond hair fanning out like a halo and practically wearing out your name with how many times he was chanting it.

You reached and held down the condom as you unsheathed (the beast), collapsing against the bed and laying down, wheezing a little, greatly satisfied at your work.

"Boom."

You weakly reached up and mimed a firework with one hand.

"Like dynamite."

"Oh, my fucking God," Jungkook muttered, peeling off the condom and immediately snatching the towel next to the bed (also says a lot about you two) and another condom, yanking off the other one (trash can next to the bed already, again says – never mind, you get it) and cleaning himself off before putting on the new one. "On your back."

You rolled on your back, snickering. "Three parts dynamite, with a nitroglycerin cap–"

Jungkook clapped a hand on your mouth and it smelled a whole lot like his cum. "This is not the time to be quoting the Addams Family, you animal."

You nuzzled out of it, grinning. "I'm just saying I want an orgasm equivalent to blowing up a small house."

"Oh, you'll get it," Jungkook growled, yanking your hips to the center of the bed, pushing your legs up to your chest, almost bending you in half. "You ready?"

You bit your lip, still grinning. "Of course."

One hand left your leg and you were confused for a split second.

The next you were gasping, Jungkook rapidly smacking his hand into your clit and pussy, not hard, but constant, swift smacks that got you wetter and wetter, quivering and struggling for breath.

"J-Jungkook, oh f-fuck, Jungkook..." you whined, fingers digging into the sheets, twisting them, bouncing your hips towards him. He inhaled sharply, fitting his finger onto your clit and raising himself.

"W-wait – oh fuck!"

Jungkook chuckled and thrust into your wet warmth, rubbing your clit at the same time. Your body squirmed, trying to alleviate the sudden high rush of pleasure, but Jungkook was stronger (was this the reason he worked out? no complaints here), his free hand pressing your leg down into your chest, your other leg crammed against his shoulder, his hand snaking in between and stimulating your clit, not having to move because you were moaning helplessly, rutting against him repeatedly, pulsating all around him, so good, so good, throbs of desire against his callused fingertip, eyes rolling back. Hard cock, engorged clit worked into a frenzy, your own hips fucking him back so hard that Jungkook was moaning with you, your name tumbling out from those pink lips.

"Cum for me, fuck, you sound and look so sexy, come on, come on..."

You would have praise for him too if you could breathe, but you couldn't, pleasure so overwhelming that your eyes closed, getting there, getting so close, and Jungkook he kept going until you wailed his name, back arcing, your tits hitting your thighs, forearms taut and straining, lower body lurching towards him and leaking out slick juices all over his crotch and yours, so much so that his finger slipped and his nail nicked your clit, turning your moan into a howl of ecstasy.

"Oh, shit, are you ok–"

You grabbed his hips, ignoring whatever the fuck he was saying, and slammed him down into your pussy, making Jungkook lose his balance and put his hands on the bed, yelping, and you hissing in his face, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please, Jungkook, give me your cock, and Jungkook was saying something but your body gave no fucks, ears mysteriously broken at that specific moment, raising your hips to meet his as he sank down, Jungkook's face scrunching up and his pleas finally reaching your ears.

"H-Hold on, I want to last, stop, stop, stop..."

"Who cares about that, I need dick," was your very impatient response, but Jungkook grabbed your thighs and pinned you down, stopping you and him from moving, you whining and clenching around him.

"This is not p–"

Jungkook immediately fitted his hand over your mouth, narrowing his eyes at you. "No. Bad. Shush."

(How did he know you were going to say 'this is not poggers'?)

You wiggled your ass and Jungkook growled, pulling out and slamming back in, not fast, but powerful, cock getting harder and harder with your whines and cries behind his palm.

"This is what you need," he panted, deep and gravelly, one hand on the bed and one on your mouth, fucking you so hard that your ass was bouncing on the bed, creating a wet spot on the sheets with how drenched you were for Jungkook's lust-filled, husky voice. "Need me to fuck you silent, fuck, you're so tight and wet, come on, cum for me, cum for me, you sexy, sexy woman..."

Your body was already complying, pleasure wrapping all around, body so hot from the fire within, tongue pressed against his palm, moaning lewdly around his fingers as you came again, and he was so hard, fuck, Jungkook was so fucking hard right after he woke up, always, (a fucking mystery and eighth wonder of the world and your pussy was thoroughly investigating), so deep and so thick, your muscles clutching him tight, sucking him back in. His fingers separated a little, loosening his grip, and you heard your needy whimper mildly muffled by his digits.

"You're so good Jungkook, I love you, fuck, I love your cock, Jungkook..."

You looked up into his eyes, at his long hair hanging around his face, jaw clenched, smirking as he saw your gaze, biting the side of his lips in concentration.

"I love you too," he breathed. "You're the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world."

You clamped around him and Jungkook groaned, eyelids fluttering, grunting as he forcefully thrust into you, your name mixed with a moan as he came again, fully sheathing himself in your quivering, abused heat, warm pulses soothing him and you all over. The sheets stuck to your ass, covered in your sweet-smelling cum.

(Good thing that was on his side of the bed.)

His hand glided up your face, pushing back your hair, shuddering as he rutted into your core a few more times, savoring your tightness.

"You alright, my dude?" you whispered nonchalantly, gasping slightly.

Jungkook cracked one eye open. "Yeah, I'm fucking fantastic, bro."

"Pog-"

Jungkook shoved two fingers into your mouth and you choked a little, pouting around his fingers (you weren't surprised though, you knew it was coming).

"I will whip this dick out and slap you in the face with it."

"That's kinda nasty, but also sounds kinda hot," you gargled around his fingers.

"... You're right. Damn, he's asleep. Shit."

Jungkook pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the towel, frowning as he glanced down.

"Only him and not us, something seems a little inverted here."

Jungkook chuckled and leaned down to kiss you (another reason why he was the perfect partner, still being affectionate, regardless of your loony antics).

"I love you."

-

in which you anger jjk by being annoying - wait, that’s every day well, he still wants to bang you counter point

--

masterpost

[five-rivers]

Danny slowly loses his memories from before the Accident.

“I don’t remember that,�� said Danny.  “Are you sure I was there?”

Maddie raised her eyebrows.  “I talked to you about it just last week,” she said. “When I was asking you about what you’d like to do during summer vacation.”

“I remember that,” said Danny, uncurling slightly from his position on the couch.  “I just don’t remember the other thing.  I... maybe we talked about something like it.  When was it?”

“You were twelve,” said Maddie.  “It was just before your birthday.”

Slowly, he shook his head.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I remember, um...  What other vacations did we have?  Before the one where you thought I was crazy, it was, um...” He held his hands as if preparing to count on them.  “We went to New York that one time.  And then the Great Lakes before that...  Oh!  And that haunted house road trip.”

He frowned down at his hands, and Maddie felt something unpleasant curl in her gut.  

“Is that...  All you remember?” she asked.  

“Y-Yeah?  I guess the others were from when I was too young to remember?”

“The haunted house trip was when you were five,” said Maddie.  “Danny... have you been,” she didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to piece together other little oddities into a big picture, “have you been forgetting things?”

“No!” said Danny, defensively, sitting up straighter.  “I’m just...”  He chewed his lip.  “It isn’t as if I’ve forgotten anything recent.”

His abysmal grades and missed curfews begged to differ.

“One second,” said Maddie.  “Stay here.”

She went to her room and fetched one of her largest photo albums.  Danny was still on the couch when she came back, picking at the hem of his pant leg, and staring blankly at the floor.  Maddie sat next to him, making him jump.  She opened the album to a random page.  

“What were we doing here?” she asked.  

“Um,” said Danny, brows pinching together in confusion.  “Shopping?”

“For?” prompted Maddie.  

Danny shook his head.  “It’s just shopping.  It isn’t important.”

“Danny, this is from when we got you that model spaceship.  The one you have hanging up in your room.”

Danny blinked, and slowly shook his head.  

.

The doctor’s office looked clean.  It even smelled clean.  Danny was still doing his level best not to touch anything.  Maddie would have sighed at his behavior, but she was too tense.  She met Jack’s eye.  He looked terrible too.

“There are no signs of Alzheimer’s disease,” said the doctor.  All three of them sighed with relief.  “However...  You said the other symptoms, the difficulty in school, began after the electrical accident?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  

The doctor nodded.  “Electricity can do strange things to the brain, sometimes.  We haven’t been able to find any structural damage, but the activity levels...”  He brought a colored image up on his computer screen.  “This is where long-term memory is stored,” he said. 

“Doesn’t red usually indicate high levels of activity?” asked Jack.

“It does,” said the doctor.  “This is actually higher than usual activity...  Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on here.  I would like to request that you make a record of things that you currently remember as happening in your life, and then come back a month from now.”

“That’s it?” demanded Maddie.  

“Right now, since we don’t know what’s causing this,” said the doctor, “the best we can do is monitor the situation.  We don’t even know if this is an ongoing deterioration, or something more gradual.  On the upside, other than long-term memory, there doesn’t appear to be any damage.  Your timeline after your accident is clear and detailed.  The cognitive tests we put you through actually put you significantly above average...  This is what we can do.”

Maddie didn’t like it.  Danny didn’t look surprised.  Or even particularly upset.  

She caught Jack’s eye again.  They would have to be ready to support him, when the extent of what he had lost fully hit him.  

.

Danny floated down the icy hallway next to Frostbite.  “This isn’t going to be one of those examinations where I have to get undressed, is it?” he asked.  

Frostbite chuckled, but there was an undercurrent to it that usually wasn’t present.  “Only halfway.”  He paused to tap Danny on the chest.  “Your mind is no longer entirely contained in your head, after all.”

Danny rubbed at where Frostbite had tapped him.  “You don’t think that has anything to do with it, do you?”

“I’m unsure,” said Frostbite as they reached the examination room.  “It isn’t unusual for ghosts to lose their memories of their lives, but that is both more immediate and more complete.  Sit down here, and take your shirt off, Great One, and we can begin.”

Danny made a face at the item that looked like an overly complicated dentist’s chair with a large metal disk embedded in the back, but obeyed.  

“Here we are,” said Frostbite, pulling a complicated ring-shaped thing from the chair.  “This part goes around your head,” he said adjusting it to fit.  

Despite his cold core, Danny shivered at the frigidity of the metal.  

“These are to monitor your core, along with the matching one built into the chair,” said Frostbite as he attached several flat disks to Danny’s chest.  

“Are they, like, ultrasound?” asked Danny, running his finger along the edge of one of them.  He didn’t like how they stuck to his skin.  

“They work on a similar principle,” said Frostbite.  He turned on several nearby monitors.  “With this, we will be able to see how your brain and core react in tandem.  Can you transform for me a few times?  I want to compare with the baseline readings we took from you when you first stayed with us.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  

.

“Alright,” said Frostbite.  “Now, I am going to try sending a few low-intensity ectoplasmic pulses and currents through you.  Is that alright?”

“Sure,” said Danny.  

The first few left Danny feeling lethargic and tingly.  Other gave him so much energy he had to leave the room for a few minutes to burn some of it off.  Another, interestingly, turned off his ghost half, not unlike the Plasmius Maximus.

There was a rest period in-between each test, to make sure that they weren’t mixing results.  During those times, Danny and Frostbite would laugh and tell jokes and...

...  Danny trailed off in the middle of a sentence.  “Frostbite?” he asked after a minute.  “What was I just saying?”

.

“I want to stress that this is currently just a theory, Great One,” said Frostbite.  

“It’s okay,” said Danny.  “Just...  What is it?”

“Your memories are recorded in both your brain and your core.  You know this, correct?”

“Yeah.  You told me that a while back.”

Frostbite nodded.  “Normally, if one is turned off, the other one is still recording memories, and the memories will be transcribed.”

Danny nodded.  

“Or, if they are disconnected, in the case of the Plasmius Maximus, or your parents’ ‘Ghost Catcher,’ they will swap memories.  However...”

“Yes?”

“It is my theory that certain kinds of discrepancies between memories can lead to your core deciding that the discrepancy is an error and attempting to remedy it.  Great One, your core did not exist prior to your accident.”

“So, it thinks my memories from before that are wrong, and it’s getting rid of them.”

“I’m afraid it may be so.”

“Can you stop it?  I mean, you were able to artificially induce it, earlier...”

Frostbite made a face.  “The only things I can think of that could stop this would be unhealthy in the long run.  I do not believe you want to try to split yourself in two again.”

“No,” agreed Danny.  “Any-Anything else?”

Frostbite sighed.  “This is not something I can confirm,” he said, “but I suspect that the reason for your odd pattern of your memory loss is that the memories you dwelled on most often vanished first.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “Because that would bring them to my core’s attention...”

Frostbite nodded.  

“Well.  That’s... not ideal.”

“I’m sorry, Great One.  Would that I could do more.”

.

“It’s all gone,” he said, without preamble, as he stood at Jazz’s door first thing in the morning.  

She looked crushed.  “Are you sure?”

Danny nodded.  “I remember remembering, but I don’t actually remember.  It’s weird and...  actually kind of a relief,” he said, tilting his head to one side.  

Jazz blinked rapidly.  “Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

He shook his head.  As his memories had disappeared, so had most of his remaining trust in his parents.  Between the memories of them caring for him, and the memories of them attacking or threatening him, the latter were more vivid.  

He still loved them, and his ghostly desires, that he literally could not remember living without, still focused on them, but that and trust were two different things.  It had been months since he’d started to fake retaining memories that he only knew about from reading his journals.  

“Sam and Tucker?”

This time, Danny nodded, the gesture much more enthusiastic.  “We were going to meet up later today, anyway.  Do you want to come with us?”

“Sure,” said Jazz.  She rubbed at her eyes.  “Give me a second.”

Danny nodded.  He wasn’t in a hurry.  “I’ll be downstairs.”

He could understand the grief.  He had felt it.  But it was over, now.  The only thing left was to make new memories.  

[silima]

Ik you've answered this/similar questions before but I've looked through some of ur tags and can't find it. I want to buy my sister a drawing tablet but really have no idea which ones are the best. Like I did look some things up, but I thought I'd ask for some people (who like draw on tablets) too.

no worries, for whatever reason my art advice tag is like 90% nonfunctional and it’s like, the only tag of mine that does that ☹️ i will say, i have only owned a couple different tablets (so obviously i’m not gonna be able to tell you if there are better models out there) but i’ve liked all of them!

i think this is the first tablet i ever used? it’s hard for me to be sure, because it was really long ago. basic wacom tablet with a black screen. it takes more effort to pick up the skill of putting your hand on a blank black surface while creating an image on the screen, but something cheap like this is nice if you’re not able to commit to something more expensive and aren’t sure how far you want to take the hobby.

(to be clear, it’s not like this kind of tablet necessarily limits you—ikimaru, who’s been a super popular digital artist for years, makes gorgeous art on a bamboo CTH-460 which is a model you can buy on ebay for $18. it’s just that it takes a little more getting used to.)

also, wacom is the brand i used for a basic tablet, and I didn’t mind mine, but i have heard wacom sometimes is a little sketchy with planned obsolescence type stuff 😵‍💫 like the pen nibs supposedly wear out way quicker than, for example, the huion brand, so you might want to check out what huion’s got. i will say: i used that wacom tablet for 1-6 hrs/day for several years and had no problems, BUT many people on the internet seem to prefer huion over wacom. up to you.

still, i honestly think you can do well with any tablet that has a stylus and pen pressure lol (which is basically all of them). like there are lots of different tablets with lots of different features out there, but the only feature that i found made a real difference to me was touchscreen vs. non-touchscreen.

non-touchscreen tablets are totally usable and usually way less expensive, but the touchscreen is really nice to have if it’s in your budget. it feels closer to traditional art and is easier to pick up.

I personally have never used a touchscreen tablet that was just a drawing tablet—i’ve used a surface pro 4 (a touchscreen computer) and an ipad pro. both were very nice. honestly, I didn’t notice a huge difference in the feeling of drawing on the screens of the surface pro vs the ipad—the biggest thing for me was the art programs. some programs are only compatible with computers and some programs are only compatible with ipads. here’s what I personally noticed:

krita (nice for painting) and ms paint (fun for dicking around in) are both NOT available on ipad, at least as far as i know

rebelle 5 pro (supposedly a very cool program for emulating real painting), which is currently on a huge sale rn (it’s $20, normally costs $150) and is also NOT available on ipad

paint tool sai, as far as i know, is not available on ipad

clip studio paint is available on BOTH ipad and computer, but is more expensive on ipad (it’s a monthly subscription instead of a one-time purchase).

procreate is ONLY compatible with ipad, and is, personally, my favorite art program i’ve ever used. there’s a brush or two from krita that i miss, but for the most part, procreate is solidly better than any other art program i’ve used.

most of the nicest animation programs seem to be incompatible with ipad; the ones that work on ipad are quite basic. this is the only major sticking point for me lol

one thing about ipad that you might’ve read about in your research is this feature that lets you tilt the pencil and draw as if you’re using the “flat” side of it:

this is sometimes cool and sometimes inconvenient, so it kinda balances out to neutral. if you’re torn between ipad and a different touchscreen tablet then don’t decide off this feature lol.

if your sister already has an ipad (or if you’ve got a family one that she has decent access to), it might be a nice thing to just get her a compatible apple pencil, so you can save money on the tablet.

but yeah! those are the models i’ve used and i’ve liked them all. even if you get her a relatively cheap non-touchscreen tablet she can still make really cool art with it and have a lot of fun. good luck!

[softboywriting]

Almost Lost You | Ex Machina | Nathan Bateman

Summary: It takes Nathan nearly dying to realize he loves you, but he needs to know you feel the same and will take some unnecessary steps to find out instead of just asking you. [TW: Blood] [Following the ending events of the film] [Light Angst] [Fluff] [New AI] [TW: Near Death Situation] [Swearing] [Sexual Innuendos] [F!ReaderxNathan] 

Word Count: 5.1k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Fear. It's not something you would think was in Nathan's repertoire of emotions. In fact in the last year you've been living at the facility and testing his AI with him, you've never even caught a hint of it. But now, you can see he is no God. He is a man. He is a man and he bleeds like a man. The terror in his eyes as he looks to you desperately behind the glass door to his bedroom is not something you would soon forget. His white sweater is staining crimson, nearly black with the contrast of the bright hall lights.

Beyond the glass, mere feet from you is the remains of Kyoko, her face torn apart, system core damaged by a blow from a weight bar. You watched it all go down, stared in horror, screaming to warn him about Kyoko approaching with the knife. He couldn't hear you behind the soundproofed door. What would have happened if you had gone out there with him? Would Kyoko have attacked you too? What about Ava? He saved your life in retrospect. Perhaps you could have stopped them both. Perhaps you'd be dead. Perhaps now you wouldn't be watching your boss, your friend, the guy you've come to care far too much about, bleed to death.

Nathan raises his hand to you, and you lay yours on the glass. He mouths something that you can't quite make out. You'll never hear him behind this door and you've no idea how to override the system and take it out of lock down. He points and you look back at the computer on the desk behind you.

"Computer?" You mouth and he nods.

He makes a sign with his hand and you suddenly are grateful he was insistent that you learn to sign the alphabet when you took the job as his assistant. It was for just such an occasion. Should one of you get locked in a room, or to communicate with him on cams when you're around the AI without speaking. He holds up three fingers. That means three words. You turn and scramble to find a sticky note and a marker on his desk before returning to the window.

You bang on the glass and he lifts his head slowly. Your heart is pounding, he's fading fast. Losing him is not an option and at this point you'd rather be in his place.

Nathan carefully spells out the code to unlock the facility. B E A M.  M E. UP. He's such a Star Trek nerd. It figures that would be his override code.

You get up and pull up the system control program and type in his passcode. Sure enough the lights return to normal and the door latch clicks open. You race from the chair, shoving the door open and sinking down beside him. "You're a fucking nerd."

"Yeah thanks." He barely chuckles. "I'm going to die."

"No you're not." You tremble as you take his hand. It's cold, he's cold all over. Skin turning pale. "Nathan, listen to me you're not going to die like this."

"Honey, we're two hours from anyone else. I'm going to die. If you move me the bleeding will get worse. I can't walk, you can't carry me."

You cup his cheek. "I'll carry you. I-I'll pick you up and we can call emergency services. Hold on just a little longer."

Nathan lays his hand on your shoulder. "You were a good assistant. I know I was a pain in the ass and I told you that you sucked. But you didn't. You're very smart. You're the best I had."

"Shut up." You're crying. "Shut up and stop being nice to me!"

"You want me to be mean?"

"No, just shut up. I want you to stop acting like you're dying."

Nathan glaces down at his torso. "I got two holes in me. I don't know what's been punctured."

"Please." You stand and look down the hall. The landline phone is in his den. "Stay here."

"I'm not moving too fast honey."

"Obviously. I'm going to call for emergency services."

"Mmm. Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Move Kyoko and Ava before they get here. I don't need to deal with questions."

"W-what?"

"I haven't exactly gone public with the AI."

You stand and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Nathan, if I don't leave them out here the medical staff will think I stabbed you."

"And you think they will believe that a robot did it instead? No. We will say there was an intruder, they attacked me and you hid. Break the glass in the kitchen from outside and make a mess as a cover."

"Jesus fucking Christmas. Okay whatever, just shut up and stay alive okay?" He gives a weak thumbs up and you go to the den to call out for help. You're going to call emergency services and he's going to get life flighted out and he is going to live. He's going to survive if it's the last thing you do.

_____________________

Nearly a month later and Nathan finally gets to go home. You haven't been back since you left in the helicopter with him. It took three bags of blood to keep him alive long enough to get him into the hospital. The doctors said he was lucky to be alive at all and it was a miracle he made it over four hours with wounds like his. Nothing was damaged internally. That's the crazy part. Kyoko just missed his heart by a mere five millimetres. The other wound just grazed his stomach but didn't cause any irreparable damage.

You spent every day at the hospital with him. He tried to get you to go home, to leave him there but you couldn't do that, you love him too much. Without you he had no one. His parents passed years ago. No siblings. No grandparents. You're his family. It's sad.

"You know we have to go to physical therapy twice a week." You say as the helicopter flies toward the facility, trees zipping by beneath you. "That means long flights in and out."

"I know." He rests his head back on the seat. "My work is there though. I can't just relocate without it."

"I haven't been back since we left that night."

"I know."

You shift your feet against the duffel bag of stuff you've been living out of for thirty three days. "It's going to be a mess."

Nathan chuckles. "I'm going to have to get new carpet."

"Yeah."

"How good are you at home renovation?"

"Um...I painted a room once?"

He opens his eyes and looks at you. It's so nice to see that playful spark. The memory of his face, scared to death and bleeding out, it haunts your dreams. "I guess we'll learn to lay carpet together."

"You're not doing anything of the sort."

"I'll supervise."

"Nathan. Just hire someone."

"I'd have to kill them. I can't just let people in the facility."

"Nathan!"

He raises his eyebrows. "You think I'm joking?"

You shake your head. "I'll put in your stupid floor. No Hitman needed. You're ridiculous."

"Careful. I am careful."

"Oh? Careful enough to get yourself sta-"

"Hey!"

You narrow your eyes. "Speaking of which. Will you rebuild them?"

"No. I think I'll try for a male model."

"Why?"

"For you."

"For me? What the fuck do I want with a robot?"

"Companionship. Besides, I've only made females. It's time to change it up. If I'm to release them to the world someday surely people will want all options available."

"Why not make it non gendered. Just a body, no determinate features?"

"That's not fun. You'll like him. I've already picked out a name."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you have."

Nathan taps his head. "I've got all the plans laid out right here."

"Mmmhmm. Gonna make him fuckable too? Like you did the others?"

"Damn right." He licks his lip and grins at you. "I know you're curious."

You would never admit it but you are. You will definitely not be doing anything remotely sexual with the robot male. Absolutely off the table. If Nathan thinks you're gonna do anything he had best start finding a new assistant. You have put up with enough. ______________________

It takes Nathan no time to build this new AI. Everything is all at his disposal. He's made several. All it takes a few adjustments to the body forms, simple enough, some wiring changes and such. New downloads for his AI system to make them male presenting. It's all of a week of almost non stop work but by Tuesday you're being called to the lab to see his pride and joy.

You push in the door to the lab and enter the darkened entry way. It's almost midnight. You were nearly asleep when Nathan came on over the intercom system demanding you come to the lab. You wipe your eyes, sleep heavy in them. The bright blue lights blind you as you step into his work area.

"I'm here. Where are you?"

"In the back! I'm just making some adjustments!"

You wander past the tables strewn with parts and pieces and notes and diagrams. Mostly Greek to you. "I was almost asleep. This had better be g-"

Nathan steps aside and sitting on the table is another Nathan. No beard but a fine five o'clock shadow, short dark hair. If you didn't know better you'd think Nathan was pranking you with his own twin. But you do know that he is an only child. Which, how very much like Nathan to make the male in his own image. How self absorbed.

"Say hello." Nathan, the real Nathan, says as he gestures to the AI.

"Why does he look like you?"

"Who better to look like?"

You shake your head and walk up to the AI. You look closely, carefully. The hair looks real, the facial hair looks real. Like Kyoko he has skin head to toe. He's covered at the waist by a sheet and you presume Nathan is doing so as some sort of ego inflating reveal of what is probably an exact replica of his own dick. But that aside, the AI physically is flawless.

"Tell her your name." Nathan says.

"I'm Nate." The AI says with a soft smile. "Nice to meet you."

You look over at your boss. "You called him Nate? You couldn't even give him his own name?"

"He has his own name.  My name is Nathan. His is Nate."

"You're a jerk."

Nate extends his hand to you. "What is your name?"

"That's a secret." You smile slyly at Nathan and look back to Nate.

"A secret name? How intriguing. Nathan, do you know her name?"

Nathan chuckles. "Yes, but it seems she wants to keep it to herself now. Maybe you will have to earn it from her."

"Earn? Like a prize. Your name is a game?"

You giggle. "Sure. I'm going to go to bed now. I will probably see you two tomorrow?"

"Perhaps."

"Super." You say sarcastically. This is going to be interesting. You've tested his AI many times, spending hours talking with Ava and Kyoko. They were essentially the same AI in the end. This one could be different. You look back as you stand in the doorway. Nate waves to you and you see Nathan turn to look at you, giving a thumbs up. Here you go. Getting in too deep. You should have taken that desk job at the Hilton hotel.

_____________________

"Where is Nate?"

"He is in the test room." Nathan brings his glass of orange juice to his lips. "Why?"

You shrug. "Just wondering."

"Curious?"

"I suppose." You sit back and push your mostly empty breakfast plate away. "It's just weird you introduced me and then just never said anything else again. It's been a week."

Nathan raises his eyebrows. "I've been fine tuning him. Making sure all the eggs are in the basket."

"Uh huh."

"You'll see him soon enough. I've got your first date set on the calendar."

"Date? You mean my first session."

Nathan smirks. "Sure."

"I'm not dating your robot. Get fucked Nathan."

"Oh I hope to."

"Too bad your fuck toys tried to kill you so you had to decommission them."

"You assume I wouldn't fuck Nate."

"You're disgusting."

"Everyone wants to know what they fuck like. Of course I'd fuck myself."

You roll your eyes. "How conceited. By the way, no, not everyone would fuck themselves. You're disgusting. And Nate is not you."

"Isn't he though?"

"No." You push away and stand beside the table, gathering your dishes. "He might have your face but he doesn't have this fucked up brain." You tap your glass to his head and he scowls.

Nathan stands and follows you into the kitchen. "You think he's going to be better than me?"

"No one said that. I just said he isn't you. I know damn well you can't download your consciousness into an AI. So Nate might be your twin but he isn't you."

He just hums. That's it.  No more or less. Just a little hmm. It pisses you off. For some reason you're defensive of Nate and you barely know him yet. He's a robot. He's not real. Not...alive.

_____________________

"Good morning."

You sit up and rub yours eyes, vision clearing to that of Nathan sitting on the end of your bed. No. It's Nate. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Nathan sent me. He said that I should wake you up."

You glare at the camera in the corner of the room. The one Nathan claims is for security purposes only. "This is my private space. You're not welcome."

Nate looks to where you are looking. "Technically the facility belongs to Nathan and this room is borrowed by yourself."

"It's still my space. Nathan! I know you're watching! This is not okay!"

Nate stands and moves across the room to stand in front of your closet.

You get off the bed and go to the door to go find Nathan. If he thinks letting Nate roam the facility unchecked is okay, he's gone mad. None of the AI have been allowed as such except for Kyoko. Obviously we see how that ended up. "Nathan! You better show you're stupid fucking-"

Nathan steps out of the kitchen and you glare. "Did you get my messenger dove?"

"Messenger...Nate? You are serious about letting him just roam free?"

"Yep."

"Did you forget what happened with Kyoko or?"

Nathan pushes his glasses up. "I thought you'd like him to wake you up. You seem pretty taken with him."

"We've barely spoken."

"Yet you were curious about him, defending him and his unlikeness to me. Tell me, why?"

"I don't know. Get him out of my bedroom."

"Talk to him."

"No. I want to be in the test room. I've never been one on one like this besides Kyoko. It's weird and I don't feel safe."

"I promise he is safe. Touch him, talk to him. Seriously, I want to run this experiment differently than the others."

You look down the hall to your bedroom door that's wide open. "What if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen. Go on. I promise he isn't going to hurt you."

You swallow harshly. That's what you're precisely afraid of. Nate could easily overpower you and who knows how strong he is. You take a deep breath and head back to your room. This is what you signed up for. This is your job.

_____________________

"Where were you born?" Nate asks you when you walk in the bedroom.

"Um, I was born here in Alaska."

Nate walks beside your bed and you take a seat awkwardly. "I don't know where I was born."

"You weren't born. You were made. Here, by Nathan."

"Oh, yes. I suppose it's strange to think of being made and not born. What should I call you? I still do not know your name. Nathan would not tell me."

"Whatever you like. I’m still going to keep my name a secret. Names hold too much power."

"Kitten." Nate looks proud of himself. "I will call you Kitten."

You can't help the little chuckle that comes out. "Why Kitten?"

"I don't know. I just chose a random name from pet names I found in a Blue Book search just now."

"Alright. I'll take it."

Nate sits beside you. "Do I look like Nathan?"

"Yes."

"I thought I might. I've not seen myself in a mirror yet."

You stand and grab Nate's hand. It's surprisingly warm to the touch. "Come with me." You take him to your bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. "That's you."

Nate leans in and turns his head side to side. "Am I handsome?"

You cannot stifle the giggle that bubbles out. "Yeah, you're pretty handsome."

"Are you attracted to Nathan?"

"In a way I suppose yes."

"In a way? Does that mean you are only attracted to part of him?"

You sit on the toilet seat and sigh. "It's hard to explain. Nathan is visually attractive to me, and mentally. His intellect is outstanding and I'm fascinated by his brain."

"But?"

"But...he can be harsh. He can be cold and unyielding and stubborn. He is difficult oftentimes. I think he struggles to express himself."

Nate looks at you, staring to the point you feel uneasy.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"You are beautiful."

"Oh. Thanks?"

"You are welcome but it was not a favor. No need for thanking."

"How does a robot gauge beauty? Are you programmed to find me attractive?"

Nate shakes his head and stares at the shower stall behind you. "I do not know. I am not aware of all of my programming. Nathan has restricted access to much of my coding."

"Interesting. Well, I’m going to shower. You can go away and do whatever Nathan wants you to do."

"I will wait."

"Wait? For me?"

"Yes. Nathan wants me to accompany you while he works. So I will wait for you to finish."

"Wait in the bedroom then."

"Okay. Should I pick out some clothes for you?"

"N-no. I will do that."

Nate nods and goes out the door.

You lean against the wall and sigh. This is so strange. If Nathan wants him to pass the Turing Test he is flying through it. You've not spoken to him very long but it's hard to grasp that he's not a person. He's not alive technically. And what's with Nathan hiding his coding? What's that about? Ava and Kyoko knew how they were made and how they accessed information. Why would he keep things from Nate?

_____________________

"So, how's Nate?" Nathan asks over dinner two days later.

You haven't spoken to him since he had Nate wake you up. You assume he's been in his lab or in the office observing you and Nate. There is no doubt he's done that actually. Every moment you spend with Nate is a session, part of the experiment.

"He's good." You say softly. "May be your best work yet."

"Oh? I sorted out those bugs from Ava then?"

"Mmmhmm." You sip your wine and he smirks. "It's hard to tell he isn't a person."

Nathan hums approvingly. "He has already passed?"

"Yeah, I'd like to say so. I have a question though."

"Shoot."

"Why are you restricting his coding? Why isn't he able to access his programming details?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The first day he told me I was beautiful. Now, he's a robot and doesn't have a type or anything without it being hardwired into him. So I asked him if you programmed him to be attracted to me and he could not tell me."

"He lied." Nathan leans back on his chair. "Day one and he already lies like a human. That's incredible."

You narrow your eyes. "Sounds fishy. Maybe his progress should be monitored within the contained setting then. How long before he gets out? Before he decides to take a stroll in the woods and never comes back?"

"You're worried about him leaving?"

"It could happen right?"

"Yes, in theory, but I've programmed him not to want to do so."

"I don't understand why you made him at all. He says he is meant to accompany me while you work, but I am your assistant. I'm supposed to be with you, not your robot."

Nathan leans forward, elbows braced on the table. "I made him because I want to test him in a different setting than we had Ava. I think that's what drove her to revolt."

"You trap and piss off anything with sentience in a box long enough it will snap. How long before Nate realizes the whole facility is a box he's trapped in?"

"There you go worrying about him leaving. Why?"

"Because! He could be dangerous!"

Nathan shakes his head. "No you're worried about him escaping because you like him. You like him don't you?"

"Of course I like him. He's an incredible piece of technology that-"

"No." Nathan holds his hand up. "You have feelings for him."

"Absolutely not. He isn’t a person."

"Mmm. Your eyes give away everything."

You glare at him. "What do they give away now?"

"I'm getting a real fuck you vibe."

"Nailed it."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. I've collected most of the information I need. I'll put Nate away before we get to the point of him wanting to escape."

"What? Why?"

"I can't have a man with my face running around forever. He's a prototype like the rest."

"Oh."

"Don't be so surprised, Honey. You're giving away your true feelings again."

"Fuck you."

"Is that an offer?"

"Shut up." ______________________

The day Nathan comes to your room and takes Nate you realize that he is jealous of his own creation.

You and Nate had been laying on the bed talking as you usually did after you cleaned, scheduled appointments and played housekeeper all day. It was a normal conversation about your life and how you grew up and where and what school was like, but then Nate asked to try something new. That new thing happened to be kissing. At first you thought it was strange, to be kissing something not technically human. But then you found you liked it. His lips were soft, plush, and warm. He felt like any other guy you had kissed before. Then you realized those were Nathan's lips. Nathan's hands on your hip and cradling your cheek. That thought was both conflicting and arousing. So you went deeper, kissing him back, putting your hand in his hair, aching for more. If Nathan wanted this he wouldn’t have put it in Nate’s programming right?

Suddenly Nate was being pulled away from you, and you could see Nathan at the end of the bed holding his creation as he powered down. It was then you realized he was jealous of Nate. The way Nathan said nothing, just looked irritated, the words were all there. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want Nate to touch you like this.

After that everything began to make sense. Nathan made Nate in his image to test your attraction to him. He hid the coding because he programmed his own attraction to you into Nate. This has been an experiment but not for the progression of AI. It's been an experiment for Nathan to gauge if you like him more than an employee employer relationship. He is so stupid. He really didn’t see how much you care for him.

Just hours after Nathan took Nate from you, you find yourself outside the lab. The door is locked so you know Nathan is inside. He always hides in there. You type in your door code to override the lock.  

"System override failed."

You scan your ID card.

"User not permitted."

"Nathan! I know you're in there!" You lean your head on the door. "We need to talk!"

He doesn't hear you. Of course he doesn't. The idiot genius soundproofed everything. You look to the camera and wave at it. There's a chance he has up the camera feed at the desk.

No response.

"If you wanted to ask me out you didn't have to make a fucking robot to do it!"

The door clicks behind you and you press in to open it. Inside is Nathan parked at his computer, eyes glued to the screen while his fingers go a mile a minute.

"You heard me and you know it."

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"Why did you take Nate?"

Nathan doesn’t look away but you can tell he has an eyebrow quirked up. "Take him? I told you I would be putting him away soon. I got what I needed."

You walk around in front of his computer monitors and he flicks his eyes up for just a moment. "What was it you needed?"

"Data. I collected what I needed. You were very helpful. Good job." He sounds so sarcastic it's sickening. "What did you really come here for?"

You sigh. "Nathan, do you like me?"

"Of course I like you. I wouldn't have hired you and let you into my facility if I didn't."

"That isn't what I mean."

He sighs irritably.

"Use your words genius."

"Go away."

"No. I want answers. Why did you make Nate look like you? Why did you make him attracted to me? Why did you hide his coding so he couldn't tell me if he was programmed to do or say certain things? Why did you bust in when he kissed me?"

"I told you! I needed to collect data! I got what I needed!"

"Data for what?! For what, Nathan?!"

He pushes away from the desk and stands, eyes locked on yours. "For me!"

You fold your arms over your chest. "Answer the questions then. Do you like me? More than your assistant. Do you enjoy my company and are you attracted to me?"

"Yes, yes to all of the fucking above." He clenches his jaw. "There. Happy?"

"Not really. I don't exactly understand why you had to go through all this shit to admit that or bring it up. I watched you dying just over a month and a half ago and I-" your voice stops as your emotions get the best of you. Your chest tightens up and you can't breathe. "I stayed in that hospital every day with you."

"I know."

"I had nightmares every fucking night because of you." You're crying, shaking, hands clenched in your shirt. "I would wake up and lay my hand on your chest to make sure you were breathing because I was so fucking scared of losing you."

Nathan swallows hard. "I know."

"After all that, you had to make an AI to find out if I am attracted to you? To find out that I care about you?"

"I just- I thought you might just have felt compelled to do all of that because of your job."

"My job?! Nathan! You may be a genius but fuck you are moron when it comes to reading people! If I just cared about the job I would have fucking left. I wouldn't have lived in a hospital room for thirty three fucking days if I didn't love you."

Nathan stares over his glasses and it's not condescending at all. In fact he looks floored, bewildered by your words. "You love me?"

"Yes." You walk around the desk and stand in front of him only inches away. "I love you and I'm attracted to you and I want to be here with you as more than your assistant. Nate really solidified that for me because when he kissed me all I could think about was you, all I could imagine was your hands and your lips. Which they kind of were but-"

Nathan grabs your face, hands cradling your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss. "Couldn't stand seeing him kiss you."

"So you were jealous?"

He licks into your mouth and you let out a soft moan. He kisses far better than Nate, but you suppose it's because he is human with actual experience. "Never thought I could be jealous of my own creation. I knew I couldn't let him fuck you and if things kept going the way they were, well..."

"That wouldn't have happened."

Nathan chuckles deeply. "Oh I think you would have been convinced. You let him kiss you after all and you were getting very into it."

"Sure you didn't wanna see that? Watch your own likeness fuck me?"

"So you would have done it? Would have gotten off on knowing I watched?" He slides his hands up your back and pulls you to his chest. "You're kinkier than I thought."

You roll your eyes. "And you're a narcissist."

"Maybe. But you like it."

"I like most things about you, even your insufferable ego, but I don't know if narcissism is one of the things I like."

"Mmm. Tell me, would you be up for some fun with Nate? You me and him?"

"Nathan! Jesus Christ I tell you I love you and you want a threesome?!"

He laughs. "I'm joking. I love you too by the way. You really wormed your way into my heart and made a little nest." He runs his hand through your hair. "My kitten."

"Wait... that's what Nate called me because I wouldn't give him my name."

"I know."

"But he said he picked it at random."

"No. I programmed him to call you that. It's my favorite nickname." He leans in and kisses your nose. "You seemed to like it."

"I do."

"Then I'll keep it. I like it better than honey or sweetheart." He presses his head to yours and you stare back at him, his eyes such a beautiful amber brown. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"For saving my life. I never thanked you. If you hadn't been there I would have died."

You wrap your arms around his back and grip his shoulders. "If you hadn't locked me in the office we both would be dead."

"I don't think so. You would have been able to warn me about Kyoko. I was outnumbered without you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to watch that all happen." Nathan presses a hard kiss to your forehead and his beard tickles your nose. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Even though I'm difficult and horrible at reading people?"

"Even though you're difficult, horrible at reading people, terrible at socializing and far too egotistical for your own good. You have my heart."

He smiles softly and you think you might melt. "I'll take good care of it. I promise."

"Good. I'm trusting you."

"And I'm trusting you. Finally."

End

-----------

Header by delicate-venus

Thank you for reading. Please reblog if you read or are going to read! Thank you! - A

[not-xpr-art]

Art Advice #4 - A Beginner’s Guide to Digital Art

Hi all!

This weeks entry into my Art Advice tag, where I offer various advice for artists of any skill level, is about digital art! Now, I am by no means an expert at digital (I’ve been doing it for nearly 8 years at this point and that is almost entirely self taught), but I have picked up a few pointers in that time which will hopefully help anyone just starting out!

(this blogpost is a little over 2000 words long btw)

A Beginner’s Guide to Digital Art 

I know that the world of digital art has changed drastically in the 8 odd years since I started, but I’d still say that some of the options I started out with will be just as good for anyone who’s starting out now! 

As always, I’ll be splitting this into sections to make it easier for you to navigate this post!

Part 1 - Equipment/Hardware 

There are a lot of drawing tablet options on the market at the moment, and I’m not going to pretend that I know anything about half of them lol. But I think for a beginner, don’t worry about going for the most expensive option, even if the reviews are really good or your favourite artist uses it, especially if it is way above your budget! 

An important thing to know is that there are two types of tablet. One is the plug-in kind. These are essentially a pad which you plug into your laptop or computer and draw on that whilst looking at the screen (they basically work the same way as a plug in mouse works). The other kind is the screen variety, which is a lot more like what most of us know as ‘tablets’ nowadays. And you draw directly onto the screen. 

(a plug-in vs on screen tablet, both from Wacom)

Now, as for choosing between these, it is honestly a personal choice. But I’d say if you’re just wanting to try digital and you’re on a budget, a plug-in tablet can be really useful since it gets you used to the mechanics of what digital is like, and they are often significantly cheaper than the screen alternatives. I would say that plug-in tablets are a big learning curve, especially if you’re used to doing traditional stuff, but I do know a lot of professional artists who still use this kind of tablet when doing their work, so if it’s something you can get used to I would definitely consider it! Also, they’re often a lot more portable than some screen tablets! The first one I had was a Huion (a model so old that I can’t even find a link to it now lol), and I also know that Wacom are a well known brand that do some decent plug-in tablet. I’d recommend you do your own research on other brands and options, though!

Screen tablets are often a lot more expensive, but if you’re used to traditional art, they are a lot easier to get a handle of! But I know if you already have something like an iPad, or other general use tablets, then they offer apps that you can use to draw on (as well as things like the Apple pen, or other stylus’). The big difference between using these general tablets and ones specifically designed for drawing is pretty much purely a personal choice. I personally prefer the bigger screen of my XP-Pen tablet, along with a special screen protector that removes the shininess of the tablet screen and makes it feel more like ‘paper’ over when I used a general use tablet it draw. But if you already have an iPad, or something similar, then it’s honestly a really great starting point!

I think it’s important for me to mention that you don’t need fancy equipment to be an artist. The incredible Elicia Donze has revealed countless times how she has very basic equipment but still manages to produce the most stunning artworks! All you really need is some kind of drawing apparatus and a lot of patience lol! Getting good at any kind of art takes a lot of time and effort, but I would definitely say it’s worth it when you’re able to look back at your progress!

Part 2 - Software/Drawing Programs 

Much like with the hardware discussion, choosing which program to use is entirely down to personal preference. I personally have never really liked Photoshop purely because it’s really complicated, but I know so many artists swear by it. 

I think the main aspect to consider when you’re starting out is whether you want to pay for a program. Software like Photoshop, Clip Studio Paint and Procreate are some of the popular ones I hear about a lot of people using, but all require you to purchase or subscribe to them. So if you’re young or on a very tight budget, I’d honestly recommend the free alternative versions of these, such as Krita (Krita is quite a large program, but it has a lot of really awesome features and is very similar to Photoshop!), Gimp (this one is similar to Krita, but has slightly less options, I’d honestly recommend Gimp for anyone who does photo editing though!) or FireAlpaca (this is the one I use, by the way and it’s a pretty simple program, but has a lot of fantastic features and is perfect for how I work!). These don’t have as many features as some of the paid alternatives, but I honestly think all you really need to start digital art is some kind of ‘canvas’ and set of brushes!

Another great free program for beginners I’d recommend is MyPaint, which is great for doodling and just getting used to how digital art feels in comparison to traditional! It also has a bunch of ‘traditional style’ brushes, to make it look like charcoal or watercolour (which I’m sure the paid alternatives have too, but it’s always better when it’s free, I find lol...)

(this is an example of a drawing I did on MyPaint using the ‘charcoal’ effect brush!)

Most of the sites are pretty self explanatory, with sections dedicated to different brushes (I’ll go into the types of brushes later on in this post btw!), adjusting brush size, shape and opacity, a colour wheel, etc. You also have a section dedicated to ‘layers’ (another thing I’ll go into more detail later), and various ‘filters’ and editing options and effects you can add to your work to make it more interesting!

I’d really just recommend playing around with programs until you find your one!

Part 3 - The Pros of Digital Art!

I realise this section should probably earlier in this blog post lol, but I kinda wanted to go into what digital art can achieve in comparison to traditional art, and how beginner artists can utilise this!

I definitely didn’t take advantage of certain aspects of digital art when I first got into it, and they’re things that would have definitely made my life a whole lot easier lol!

Digital art allows you to tweak drawings as you do them. So if you accidentally drew the eye too far to the right, then you can easily move it to the right place. (I usually do this by selecting whichever area is wrong, cutting it out and then pasting it into a new area... And yes, there is probably a better and quick way of doing this but...I haven’t found that way yet lol...). And I honestly think that this has allowed me to look a lot more at a reference image in order to figure out where I’ve gone wrong with a drawing! Whereas with traditional art, I usually spend so long trying to get an eye right, that even if it’s slightly in the wrong place, I don’t want to completely redo that section. Digital allows you to completely rub out sections without leaving indents, which is honestly such a saving grace!

Another pro of digital is the Undo/Ctrl Z function! This means you can easily go back to before you made a major mistake with just a click of Ctrl Z... Though I have to say that this function has honestly ruined traditional art for me... Oh what wouldn’t I give for a real life Ctrl Z... But yeah, this is a great part of digital art and definitely something you will grow to love lol!

Another great thing about digital is that it allows you to flip and turn a canvas as you’re drawing on it. I spent a lot of time trying to turn my tablet around in order to draw certain parts of a piece before I realised you can turn the canvas itself without having to move yourself or your tablet!

Layers are another part of digital that can be super useful, and I have to be honest but I don’t really use them a lot. I know a lot of artists create layers for every section of their artworks (so, one for the linework, one for colouring, a separate one for the background, etc etc...). And there’s something really great about being able to paint without worrying about smudging into a previous section of the painting. This works well for my work since I do a lot of bright backgrounds. I also often create a lot of ‘versions’ of my works, so it’s useful to be able to change the background without affecting the main figure of the piece! (I have to say that I often work in one big layer when I’m doing paintings, just because I like how it feels more like ‘traditional’ art that way, but layers are such a brilliant tool, and definitely something you should play around with!)

The eyedropper tool is another one that is really useful! Although I never colour pick from my reference photos, I know some artists find this useful when they were just starting out (especially if you’re not sure what colour to make shadows or how to mix skin tones, etc etc). The eyedropper basically means you don’t need to mix your colours every time

Part 4 - Just some other things I wish I had known about when I was starting out lol...

This last section is just dedicated to a few things that I would have liked to have known when I was just starting out all those years ago. 

First one is fluffy/textured brushes! 

I spent most of my art life from 2013 until 2016 using ‘round’ brushes which are notoriously hard to blend with, so I’d recommend either downloading some fluffy/textured brushes (DeviantArt was where I got mine from a few years back, but there are probably other places you can get them for free too!) to your program of choice, since most of the programs I’ve used haven’t had fluffy/textured brushes as pre-set. 

I may make another post about how I blend in my artworks if that’s something people would be interested in?

(this is an example of textured brush blending vs round brush blending... I usually opt for round brushes for rougher blending styles and the textured brushes for more smooth and ‘realistic’ blending... for a lot of pieces, though, I use both brushes (the round brushes are good for details!) in the same way that you use different sized brushes for real paintings!)

The next thing I wish I’d discovered earlier is the Brush Stabiliser option. Some programs may do this automatically, but the one I use (FireAlpaca) requires you to manually change the amount of stabilising you have on your brush. This is particularly useful if you want to draw neat lines or straight lines (the stabiliser essentially slows down the ‘ink’ as you’re drawing). I only recently started using the stabiliser, and although I still like having it mostly turned ‘off’ for doing sketchy work, it does make doing line work a lot easier, and also gives pieces a more polished look!  

Next advice is to explore all the options you can in whatever program you use! 

I feel like with certain programs, you can get overwhelmed by choice and you end up just using a few of the functions. But I’d really recommend just playing around with these programs, trying all the filters and editing options to get used to how the program works. You can often find interesting ways to adjust your artworks this way! In a way I’d recommend this way of working more than finding tutorials made by other people... Unless there’s a specific function you want to learn how to do, just having fun with digital art is a major part of it’s appeal to me! 

~

There are probably a lot of other options I could go into, but this is already over 2000 words long, so I’ll leave it here for now lol! (I may do a part 2 though so... keep a look out for that!)

As always, if you have any questions to things I’ve said here, or are just looking for more advice, don’t hesitate to message me!

And if you like my work on here (art & blog posts) feel free to support me on my Ko-Fi! <3

[zalrin]

Dream SMP x Detroit: Become Human AU

DSMP x DBH AU Part 2

Background Information: I was inspired to do this after watching Tubbo's play-through of Detroit: Become Human. At first, I was planning on posting art with descriptions, but I'm over flowing with ideas and not enough artistic talent to hurry along...

Author's Note: Okay, I'm going to be completely honest. Both part 1 and part 2 are pretty much posted on impulse. I should be going to sleep because I have work in the morning, and I started on this post early with that thought in mind, but for some reason my computer is glitching... I've written this out almost three times T-T Everything was deleted at one point, with NOTHING SAVED, so I was nearly about to rage quit... Pray for me. My patience is not unlimited.

Aside from all that, please enjoy! I worked REALLY hard on this (even excluding all the technical issues) so I really do hope you enjoy!

Character Plots:

1. Technoblade

Technoblade, notoriously known as the rogue deviant, was always a mystery due to the fact that no one, not even CyberLife, knew what model android he was. This was due to the fact that Techno was actually not even an android, but a human. This all began at a young age of thirteen, when Techno started to question the set rules of society and how he fit into its rigid hierarchy. Although it was just a budding curiosity, one he didn’t expect to go anywhere, it soon took a drastic turn. After pretending to be an android, just for fun, he was appalled by how he was treated by his fellow humans. More so than the random civilians, he was more disgusted by the inaction of the police. As an act of rebellion for the present corruption of authority, he committed small acts of violence and destruction of public property. He promoted equality and spoke out against the tyrannical attitude of those in power. Due to him indiscriminately acting out against both humans and androids alike, fighting against anyone in power who became physical and bullied those weaker than them, public opinion slowly began to shift. He eventually went from a crazy anarchist to a modern-day robin hood, much to the government’s dismay. Even those that flocked to his side, joining his cause, were a good mix of both androids and humans. His growing popularity began to raise the urgency of his capture, making his name slowly climb up the Most Wanted list. Eventually, while on his many brushes and runs from the police, he met with Detective Kristin (before she was promoted to Lieutenant) and her android partner, Philza. After many encounters, Techno and Phil surprisingly became close friends. In fact, they became so inseparable that their relationship was more akin to family than just friends. Though Phil didn’t particularly condone Techno’s more violent methods, he still supported his cause from behind. Willing to dirty his hands and become the mole, Phil secretly fed Techno intel from classified files as well as supplying Techno with android fuel, aka. Blue Blood. It was only later that Techno revealed to Phil his human identity, Phil being the only one he ever disclosed that information to, but Phil swore to never reveal his secret. Besides, the fuel was necessary for Techno’s growing followers, eventually taking on the name of The Syndicate. Techno understood the reason Phil never openly supported him, even though the android was more than willing to. It was to protect his loved one, Kristin, who would eventually become his wife. Techno understood, even supported Phil, and worked harder to never be a burden to his closest friend. Suddenly, Techno’s reputation exploded when a video clip of him went viral on social media. Though the government tried to spin the story in their favor, the video captured the full extent of the event. Techno had fought off several CyberLife security officers and police forces, exhibiting exceptional fighting prowess, while also making off with a ton of android fuel. He and his team had tried to hijack the vehicle loaded with the goods mid-route but was caught and almost apprehended. However, the thing that raised his public opinion to his favor was not just his fighting capabilities, but also how little he endangered the civilians around him. Instead, it was the government officials who had unintentionally dragged innocent people into this chaotic fight, suspecting them to be on Techno’s side. Then, not long after his growing popularity, Techno and Dream teamed up, officially marking Technoblade’s name as number one on the FBI’s Most Wanted Fugitives list.

2. Dream

Clay, or better known as Dream, was once a star employee at CyberLife. He was actually one of the many brilliant minds that helped make CyberLife into the giant company that it is. However, Dream soon gave up his employment due to the many restrictions they had placed on his creative vigor. Instead, he pursued his own android business, taking on the name Dream for both branding purposes and to embody his own "dreams." Teaming up with fellow ex-employees, Sapnap and George, the three were an ambitious trio that were talented enough to eventually become a threat to CyberLife’s growing industry and monopoly over the android market. When Dream realized that his life was being targeted by CyberLife, even being threatened to either come back into their company or give up on his current business, he became more determined to grow his industry. This even propelled him to start designing his most prized creation, DreamXD. However, his unbending will soon began to falter. CyberLife took a different approach when they realized that Dream did not hold his life more dear than his company. They began to threaten not just his life but also the lives of his most trusted partners and friends. This finally forced Dream to worry, eventually driving his friends away. Dream knew Sapnap and George like the back of his hand. He knew that the two would stick by him, through thick and thin, so he didn’t even give them that choice. Instead, his attitude towards them got worse and worse, until they eventually cut all ties with him. That was the only way he believed he could protect them. However, Dream underestimated the effects his friends had on his mental stability. Eventually, without their presence, he became more insane from the combined pressure, stress, and loneliness. Soon, he realized that it was getting too dangerous to stay still and was forced into hiding. With little time, Dream only took the incomplete DreamXD with him and shook off those tailing him. Then, he left his most prized possession to his dear ex-partner and friend, George. Dream intentionally left DreamXD incomplete. He had created the android in his image and left him unfinished to gather experience and human emotions on his own. This was the only android in existence that had been designed not only to be a deviant, but to be a human. Even with high expectations for his own future, Dream never could shake off the feeling of death following close at his heels. DreamXD was created to be his contingency plan. In the event that Dream died before his goals were achieved, DreamXD was programmed to take over Dream’s human life, or the life of Clay. Of course, Dream knew that free will was a part of humanity. That’s why he left DreamXD with a choice. While forced into hiding by CyberLife, the company spread rumors about his capture and imprisonment. CyberLife hoped that it could lure out his loved ones, baiting Dream to come out of hiding, but they had underestimated him. They had failed to realize just how severely Dream had cut out all his friends and loved ones from his life, leaving no one behind. No one to look back for him, or so the two thought... Surprisingly, even on the run Dream was fairly rich. He had planned out many things in the event CyberLife truly carried out their threats, and hidden many resources to one day come back to. However, he could not leave the city. Not while his goal was still left unfinished. So this left him with no place to stay for long periods of time, leaving him essentially homeless. That’s when he reached out to Technoblade, whose infamy had grown exponentially. The two had similar goals and so easily agreed to a partnership. Technoblade wanted to take down the tyranny of the government, while Dream wanted to end CyberLife’s influence over the android market and quiet down his chaotic life. Since CyberLife was a large reason for the power corruption, the two found working together to be simple. Techno would help Dream by providing him a place to stay, as well as offering man power when available and needed. Dream, on the other hand, would assist with supplies and android repairs, using his expertise in androids to even upgrade their parts. However, outside of these agreements they wouldn’t get in one another's way. They would only provide assistance if their plans overlapped. The two had a good understanding of the nature of their relationship. They were neither friends nor enemies. Just partners. Nothing more, nothing less.

-

PREVIOUS PARTS: 1

-

Note: I'm sorry, but after writing all this over again, nearly from scratch, three times... I really can't be bothered to go back and fix anything. I know I could have done better, but I'm kind of defeated right now and a bit tired. Please understand and I really do hope you enjoyed the read! Feel free to leave a comment on what you thought of it or maybe ways to improve the story! I'm all ears (when I have free time) ^^ And thank you so much for all the likes on my previous post! I'm really happy that you all enjoyed it <3

[ask-spider-man-61610]

The Infiltration: Part One of Three

To say that two shapeshifters stood in the basement laboratory of a government building wouldn't be quite accurate. One shapeshifter stood in the basement laboratory. The other could more honestly be described as meticulously sculpted into shape. The particles that made up his body were arranged into the shape of a standing man, held in place by static cling, but that wasn't really standing. It was a rough approximation of standing, just like everything about Flint Marko was a rough approximation of a human being. He'd long since gotten used to the fact, but that didn't make it any less unpleasant.

The other shapeshifter, Reed Richards, leaned against a table that was great for projecting holograms but terrible for holding papers or drinks. Fancy and impractical equipment like this was one of the Cape Code Authority's most well-known features.

A third man stood in this laboratory too, off to one side. He was, in a way, the exact opposite of a shapeshifter. More on him later.

"I've taken some time to look into your request," Richards said as he tapped a few icons on the tabletop. "Here's the basics of my thoughts so far. A shell to house your nervous system and respond to electrical signals."

There was a sound like sand sliding down a dune before Flint began to speak. It had taken him a long time to relearn how to talk after becoming the Sandman; even now, it took effort to hold the shape of those granular vocal cords as he spoke in a deep and raspy voice. "Yeah. Y'said that last time, Doc. What's changed?"

Richards, in response, pinched an image on the tabletop and widened it out, his fingers stretching like rubber bands to expand the picture further. He raised his arm--he seemed to ignore his joints, the entire limb bending like a garden hose--and flicked one finger up, and a hologram rose out of the table's display to cast a soft white glow over the room. The hologram looked like eggshells glued to an Erector set, arranged into the shape of a bipedal form that lay on the table as if it were a stretcher. "What's changed is that I've done some research into actually making that shell. Take a look, I've drafted up a basic schematic for what it'd look like."

"And you decided it'd look like a Phantom?"

Richards snorted, but ignored the question. "The outermost shell is solid-light holography," he continued, making a vague swiping gesture through the air above the image. The eggshell faded out, revealing the bare animatronic beneath, which (judging by the sculpted face made of sand) Flint found even less impressive. Frowning, Richards looked down at the hologram again and added, "We could, given some finagling, calibrate it to resemble an actual human. But generating these 3D models is a pain, so I didn't bother."

Perhaps a more critical mind would have asked why, if 3D models were such a pain, they bothered to use holograms at all instead of pen and paper. But Flint's mind had never been an especially critical one; he was in no way stupid, but for all his life had tended to take things as they came. Instead he asked, "Is that why it looks like a Phantom? 'Cuz you're just recycling a picture you already had?"

"Not letting that go, eh?" Richards replied, the ghost of a smirk on his face as he glanced up at the Sandman again. He waved his hand again, and the computer misinterpreted his gesture and deactivated the projection of the suit. Rolling his eyes, Richards reactivated the hologram and said, "No. Well, partially. It looks like a Phantom because that technology is what a lot of my idea is based on. You see, what you're asking for is very similar to how the technology works anyway--an artificial support structure for a unique nervous system. The only difference is that your nervous system is two gallons of granulated silica, whereas the Phantoms are currently working with--"

And here he stopped, falling silent and stoic. His eyes, suddenly devoid of their smiling crow's feet, glanced Flint's way before his disgusting elastic fingers returned to typing on the touchscreen between them. The pile of sand, insomuch as it could, looked confused.

"What?" he said, in a voice like a seashell crushed underfoot on a beach. "What're the Phantoms workin' with? I thought they were just robots."

This was a common misconception, and Richards, like most of the Cape Code Authority, had a vested interest in upholding it. "Phantoms" were the colloquial name for Perpetual Holographic Avatar/Nano-Tech Offensive Monsters. Bipedal, autonomous drones with light weaponry, they were the foot soldiers of the CCA, the beat cops, the cavalry when an agent wanted reinforcement. They had been in development since the War of the Worlds had brought the Chitauri and all their technology to Earth six years ago, and some of the core technology of the drones was better kept unknown. What Richards had said threatened to jeopardise that secrecy.

The third man in the room chose then to speak. Stepping forward, his black cloak obscuring the entirety of his six-foot-plus form, he spoke with a voice that was digitally altered to be an octave deeper. "They are robots," he said, his white face mask moving like genuine flesh. "Their processors have a unique method of operation, though. They have some of the most sophisticated A.I. in the world, and their microprocessors are similar enough to a human's that it won't require too much tinkering to render it compatible with your...situation."

This was Scrier--or rather, a Scrier; one of many--and he was a champion liar. Nobody quite knew when he had joined the CCA or what level he occupied, but the executives of the organization seemed to treat him as a special case. He never answered distress calls, except to break up protests and strikes. He had no patrol routes, no assigned partners, and the only training courses he attended were the ones he taught--the ones about corporate rights and the agency's responsibility to them. Agents weren't allowed to try and investigate Scrier's identity. For all they knew, he was an undercover boss trying to hear his subordinates' opinions on him.

This was true, but it was a little more specific than that.

"Yes!" Richards said, gesturing towards the man gratefully. "Thank you, Scrier. I didn't know how exactly to put that. Yes, Phantoms run on a very human-like system. In theory, adapting it to suit your nervous system should be far easier than trying to create something out of whole cloth."

"I thought you were like a super genius," Flint said, sounding a bit annoyed. "You've invented flying cars and indestructible fabrics that let you go to space. You have yer own interdimensional portal. Why is this taking so much thought? Why does this need to be made out of other stuff and spit and prayers?"

Richards gave him a blank glare for a few seconds before sighing. "Okay," he said, leaning on the table. "First of all, I am a genius. I'm one of the smartest people to ever live, but that doesn't mean I know everything. I have to research and experiment. Any innovation, even one from me, takes time." He waved his hand again and the hologram vanished. "Second of all, remember: I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart."

"You're doing this because that was my condition!" Flint shot back, and the pile of sand swelled slightly and grew almost half a foot. He raised his arms; granules fell from the sculptures and scattered across the floor. "That's what I said when I joined this stupid super-cop thing! I hate being the Sandman, Doc! You guys offered to give me this--this job of disrupting protests and taking down unregistered super-guys because your bosses told me you could make me...not."

He glanced down at his hands. And indeed hands they were; years of practice had let him sculpt the sand at the end of his arms into an incredibly realistic form, with perfectly jointed fingers. You could almost see what must have once been his fingerprints. But as he looked at them a small stream of sand fell from them to the ground.

"I'm not expectin' you to make me human again," he said. "But just...something that'll make me feel more human. Something that feels like a body." His features hardened again, sand dunes into sandstone. "If you're just half-assing that--if you're just giving me something that-that makes people treat me like a Phantom and that'll break in like a week--"

And here he stopped. There was more than just a salary that kept agents of the Cape Code Authority in line. You had a lot of wiggle room as a superhero registered under them: you could slack off on the job, you could issue arrests for what you were pretty sure was a crime, you could stop and frisk anyone you liked, you could be sure that the beatings you gave to unarmed suspects were graciously forgiven by your superiors. But one thing you couldn't do was leave. Quitting the CCA was a surefire way to bring the coworkers you had once trusted down on your head; no longer registered, you had no more immunity than a child experimenting with the most basic powers did. Nobody wanted to find themselves imprisoned in Complex 42--stranded inescapably in the Negative Zone, tortured by armed guards and experimented on to replicate your powers, only protected from the hostile, annihilating environment outside the prison by a few wafer-thin force fields. But that was exactly where Flint's line of thinking threatened to take him.

"...Forget it," he mumbled, defeated, and as he slumped down slightly his face and body lost much of its detail.

Richards stared across the table with an uncomfortable air. Glancing down at the table, he tapped a few keys on it and the hologram vanished. With one hand he pushed his glasses up, and then his arm stretched the five feet across the table and patted Flint's semblance of a shoulder.

"Look," he said. "I can't make any promises. You're...unprecedented, Marko. The only shapeshifter of your kind. I'm doing the best I can to help you. But if I can use technology we already have to do it, then I'm going to. You're not my only job in the CCA. But I'm working on it." He took his hand back, and then needed a second to brush off the sand that had come with it. "...It's getting late. We ought to call it a day, I need to head home."

"Have to convince Susan not to walk out on you again?" Scrier suggested, already heading for the door.

Reed just dragged his hand down his face, his features stretching in his grip, and didn't answer. His eyes were bagged and his posture tired. Instead he began to trudge towards the door, each leg bending like it was made of plasticine, and followed by an animate pile of sand.

The light of streetlights and storefront signs shone through the windows as the three of them stepped out of the laboratory. About ten feet away, a custodian looked up from the floor he was mopping and gave the trio a quizzical expression, but the only one who paid him any mind was Scrier, whose expression was hard to parse through the prosthetic mask. Richards and Flint just began to head the opposite direction down the hall.

"Hey! Scrier! Don't you have some skulking to do somewhere else?!" Flint called back.

As the door to the lab swung closed, the janitor adjusted his grip on the mop and looked back down at his work. Scrier, after a second more of staring, turned away and began to saunter off.

It was a long hallway. They kept walking for a good long while before they turned and were out of sight. And for all that time the janitor continued to mop and silently sweated, waiting for them to notice that the security cameras weren't moving like they usually did. Even when the three Cape Code Authority agents were gone, the custodian continued to work. He worked until the vibrations of their footsteps through the floor had faded into the background tremors of the environment. And even longer than that, until the buzz of spider-sense in the back of his mind had subsided slightly, no longer quite so focused on them.

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 39 - Finland's female Prime Minister wears a suit with no bra. Indecent? Sexist?

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru with this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome. Well...

J: Hahaha

K: This suits you (*pointing to Tokyo Sports hoodie that Joe is wearing*)

J: Oh thank you. Im starting to quite like it.

T: Im glad.

J: There is also a Tokyo Sports logo here on the end of the sleeve, so even if you are wearing a jacket, you can show it.

T: Thank you, haha.

J: So, (*To Tasai*) Im waiting for a job.

T: Thank you, lets do something.

K: Haha

J: Lets do something.

K: Ok, Joe, today's news please.

J: Yes, ok. 'Finland's female Prime Minister wears a suit with no bra. Indecent? Sexist?' 34 year old Northern European Prime Minister, Sanna Marin, appeared in a magazine wearing a jacket which exposed slight clevage, causing an unexpected stir. While parts of social media labelled this 'indecent', and 'inappropriate', other voices have been raised claiming this backlash is sexist, because a male politician appearing even half-naked in a magazine would not face the same criticism. Elected at the end of last year, Prime Minister Marin is notable as her country's youngest ever Prime Minister. She was interviewed by the fashion magazine, sold this month in Finland, and was  portrayed as a role model, wearing a black suit. It appeared as if she was wearing the jacket with no bra, and her clevage was slightly visible below an elaborately designed necklace. Parts of social media responded that, 'It looks cheap', 'I've lost trust in her', 'She's trying to stand out'.

Well, if you search for this you will be able to find the image. Firstly, when I had a look, I didn't think it was all that indecent.

K: Yeah.

J: Kaoru, how do you feel about this?

K: Well, I feel like there is always gonna be someone who complains.

J: Yeah, so those who are defending PM Marin say that, for example, with that photo of Putin going fishing topless, or that photo which was posted of him jogging in floral patterned shorts in winter...People are asking why it is ok to show naked photos of male leaders, but indecent for a female leader to show a tiny bit of clevage? This had led to some claims of sexism. I think this is a difficult problem. (*To Tasai*)What does the expert on clevages have to say about this?

K: Are you an expert?

T: Haha, it has been said about me. Well, recently at Tokyo Sports, we've had a lot of articles concerning sex. Like, things that really make you think 'it this sexist against men? Or is this sexist against women?' I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a man or a woman. Its like women will point out sexism if they see it, but as a man, even if I think the same inside, I will question myself.*1

J: I see, men are bad at expressing feelings?

T: Yeah, so i've been thinking a lot about what it all means.

J: I see.

Kami: Um..

J: Oh, Kami's here.

Kami: Do you think people with small boobs are jealous of her clevage?

J: Oh, that?

Kami: As for me, I don't even mind if there is no clevage.

J: I see.

Kami: I probably even prefer small boobs.

J: You like small boobs?

Kami: I think they are better. But this photo, however you look at it, its a nice photo, isn't it?

J: Yes, its a good photo, right?

Kami: So maybe the people complaining about her clevage are just jealous because they have no clevage. I feel like that might be it.

T: Well, we don't know whether the people complaining were men or women though.

J: Yeh, we don't know that. We can't say.

K: It could be either.

Kami: So, Kami, are you saying 'Don't worry about the size of your clevage!'? Like, 'Its ok, don't worry about it!'

Kami: Yeah. Its whats on the inside that counts.

J: Thats it.

K: Yeah.

Kami: Either is ok.

K: But this is a fashion magazine, right?

J: Yeah. So PM Marin isn't wearing this type of thing for public affairs, its for this magazine. And I don't think this was only her idea. With a fashion magazine, there will be the director and the stylist etc, so she will have been shot in this way in oder to properly show off the fashion. So, even if you attack this, it is what it is. What do these complainers think is indecent about it?

K: Well, no matter what you do, you will always get opinions from both sides.

J: Well, of course, yes.

Kami: Its these small-boobed people who are attacking her.

K: He's particular about this, haha.

Kami: Its the truth. No mistake.

J: Attacking her like, 'Don't brag about your boobs!'?

Kami: Yes, thats it. They don't like the bragging. No mistake!

J: No mistake?

Kami: No mistake.

J: Haha, well if Kami has no doubts, maybe thats it.

T:Well, there may be some women who don't like hearing that*2

J: Like, Kami is doing sexual harassment?

T: Well, he is just saying his honest opinion as a man. But a man wouldn't say this looks cheap, would he? Or that they'd loose trust in her, or that she's trying to stand out? What do you think?

K: Even if she is trying to stand out, whats wrong with that?

J: Yeah, if people pay attention to this and see her a politician, it might draw more interest into politics, or spread awareness of her policies, so in that way, its a kind of promotion.

K: So its not really anyone's business to say 'It looks cheap' and stuff.

J: Yeah. But it doesn't look cheap, does it? From what I can see.

T: No, it looks nice.

Kami: Oh, I've just realised something.

J: What is it, Kami?

Kami: There may actually be a mistake about when I said 'there's no mistake' before.

J: Ah, tell us what it is.

Kami: She's a politician, right? She is being criticized as a politician, so it might be the small-boobed of the Opposition Party criticizing her. 

K, T, J: Hahaha

J: No way! Really?

Kami: Yeah. The small-boobed of the Opposition.

J: I see.

T: Thats interesting.

J: So its like criticism of the administration?

Kami: Yes.

J: Political affairs, right? But I think PM Marin will be quite happy with this

T: Yeah, I bet she didn't expect it to turn into such a talking point.

J: But 'the small-boobed Opposition'...?

K: Haha, its a new phrase.

J: A first for humanity! Small-boobed Opposition!

T: I wanna search for it on my computer later.

J: I bet you won't get any results.

T: Haha.

J: Its only just been said...'Small-boobed Opposition'.

T: Incredible, right?

J: Haha. But conversely, what if it were a Japanese female politician appearing like this?

T: How would that go?

J: Yeah, how would it? Are there any Japanese politicians we'd like to appear in fashion magazines..

K: Its not really like we want them to appear, the editors want to feature them.

T: There isn't really anyone I'd like them to pick up on specifically.

J: Yeah. Well, the conclusion here is that PM Marin looks great.

K: Yeah, I think thats it.

J: No mistake.

K: It reminds me of when former Hanshin player Shinjo (Tsuyoshi) san returned from Nippon Ham, he was all over the magazines.

T: Oh yeah.

K: Its great, isn't it?

J: Yes, it is.

K: Ok, well...let's finish here.

J: Before Kami says anything else.

K: Thank you very much. Please subscribe.

*1,2 Slightly unsure about these bits.

[meltwonu]

| caffeine |     [chapter 1]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes;  some smut, mild degradation. (some art history bs cuz I, in actuality, am a nerd) can I get a yeehaw! we’re finally kickin’ this off~ this is mostly just the lead up with some mild touchin’ but you know how it is~ thank you all for being so patient! can't wait to get the next chapter out 💕 

chapters; 1 - x - x - x - x

It’s 10:48am when Mingyu all but begs you to return his art history books on Dadaism back to the campus library. You give him 4 sentences to explain why you should be the one to do it; the tall male whining that he’s already late for his exam on Baroque art.

“Can you not be a bitch for 4 seconds, please? I’m literally begging you and I know for a fact you need to get books on that fuckin’ art and gender course so don’t play me like you’re not heading there anyway!” Mingyu shoves his books into your arms, adjusting the messenger bag on his shoulder.

“I swear after the rager on friday, I’ll take you out to get those mochi donuts on saturday, okay? I gotta go!”

He gives you no time to respond, jetting off to his already-late exam. You roll your eyes, adjusting the books in your arms as you begin the trek to the library. Mingyu was a friend that you’d met in your Intro to Photography class with Minghao, another mutual friend of yours. Both of them were no-doubt handsome and insanely educated when it came to art and art history but both of them were also part of the SVT House; one of the most notorious frat houses on Greek Row. They threw parties every other week, inviting the entire campus to show up if the cops didn’t show up first. Mingyu had invited you to a few in the past but you’d always decline; citing that you rather not be around when the cops showed up. You always wondered how Minghao dealt with being in a frat house knowing he typically hated loud parties and huge crowds of strangers.

When you finally get to the library, you struggle with the door, the damned books making it difficult for you to pull the handle open. A kind soul helps you out, a small ‘thank you’ leaving your lips before you make a beeline for the receptionist desk to return Mingyu’s books. Noticing a different male there than the usual librarian, you quirk a brow.

“Um, hello?” He spares you a glance, closing a few windows on the computer he was working on before he walks over to your side of the table. You take in his features; sharp eyes, silvery blue hair, wire frame glasses, pressed white shirt under an argyle printed sweater vest tucked into beige pressed chinos. He looked like a stereotypical version of what most people would think a librarian looked like but also had the features of a high class model. You were sure you’d seen him around, probably when you’d run into Mingyu or Minghao between classes.

“Yes, can I help you?” Fuck, you think, his voice is hot too. You can feel your body heating up just from his voice alone and you take a second to recover, stuttering as you set the books down on the counter.

“Y-yeah, um, I--uh, just wanted to return these books? That’s all.”

Cursing under your breath for stuttering, you miss the way his lips quirk up into a small smile.

“Sure, let me just scan these in.” You opt to just nod, saving yourself from any further fuck ups with talking as you watch him grab the scanner.

“Hmm, it says Mingyu borrowed these books. Can I ask why you’re returning these and not himself?”

“O-oh, we’re friends. He was late to his art exam and I needed to do some work here so… figured I’d just return them for him since he’s already suffering.” He laughs, sliding the books off the counter and placing them on the return cart for later.

“I don’t see why he didn’t just give them to me this morning but I guess the beer pong from last night must’ve been the reason for him being late.” You sigh, “I knew there’d be a stupid reason he’d be late for his exam. Anyway, thanks for helping me…?” You leave the question open ended, wanting to get his name before you disappeared to one of the empty study rooms. He smiles at you again, dusting off his hands on his neatly pressed pants.

“Hi, my name’s Wonwoo. I volunteer here at the campus library every day from 10am to about 2pm. If you need anything, just let me know!” He shakes your hand, eyes twinkling as he gives you a quick up and down from behind the receptionist desk. You give him your name; watching him as he whispers it under his breath, lips tilting up into a warm and inviting smile.

“It’s nice to meet you. I hope we’ll get along well.”

You hate the way the image of Wonwoo smiling at you is embedding into your eyelids while you try to work; the stupid essay sitting in front of you still blank even when you get up to look for materials on the course an hour and a half later. Checking the kiosk to find out where the said art and gender books were, you make your way through the bookshelves, not finding any of the books you were looking for. You contemplate for a second, wondering if you really want to go visit Wonwoo at the receptionist desk. Fuck it, you think, I’ll get my books and I swear I’ll finish this damn essay before I leave, it’s not just eye candy.

“Hey, Wonwoo?” He turns away from the return cart, adjusting his glasses as he walks over to you at the counter. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“Um, I… it said the art and gender books were on the shelves but they weren’t, uh, there? Can you… check for me please?” He nods, sitting down at the computer while you recite the necessary info to him. Wonwoo jots down a few notes on a notepad, getting up and gesturing for you to follow him as he tears the sheet off.

“Sorry, I’m new here so we might get lost but I think they might’ve accidentally been shelved in the wrong section of the library.” He threads through different bookshelves, taking you deeper and deeper into the library until there’s hardly anyone around.

When he finally stops, you’re in a section of the library you don’t recognize, the emptiness mildly eerie as Wonwoo searches for the said books.

“Wanna give me a little snippet of what these books are about while we’re here?” He didn’t strike you as a small talk kind of person but you shrug behind him; you were already there, might as well.

“Um, it’s just, kind of how different genders consume and interpret the human form in art. Lots of it is old and outdated but it’s for an art course I’m taking right now. Y’kno, things like the ‘male gaze’ and stuff. I’m sure it’d bore you to death.” Wonwoo hums in acknowledgement, turning to face you as he slowly backs you up against the bookshelf. It takes you off guard as you hold your breath, eyes boring into the argyle print on his sweater vest.

“Interesting course you’re taking. I don’t think it’d bore me though, I’m quite enamoured with the female form.” You’re convinced if you breathed wrong, he’d feel it with how close he was. But he whispers a small ‘ah-hah’, his hand resting on the shelf next to your head as he pulls out a singular book. Wonwoo steps back, placing the book in your trembling hands.

“That’s one book, 3 more to find.”

He continues like that, his body in close proximity to yours the entire time you stand there, unsure of what to do. Wonwoo finds two more of your books, setting them on an empty shelf nearby as he checks his note for the last one. You mentally curse yourself for wearing a sundress to the library because you can feel the back of his hand grazing your thigh when he kneels on the floor next to you, hand placed on the shelf and eyes scanning for the damned book you don’t even care about anymore.

“Hmm, I can’t seem to find this last one. Weird. Maybe someone checked it out already and it got misscanned.”

“Oh, um, that’s fine, this should be g-good. I can check the shelf myself or something!”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind helping you out back here. I wouldn’t want you to do it alone, you know. Joshua should have already come in for his shift already anyway.” Wonwoo stands back up, his face close to your body as he towers above you. “Don’t you want my help? I don’t really offer it very often.” The suggestive tone in his voice has you clenching around nothing, already embarrassingly wet. You hope to a higher power that he can’t tell but something inside of you already knows that he’s aware of his affect on you.

“O-okay, please… please help me.”

You swear you’ll finish your essay.

Right after Wonwoo finishes getting you off.

He touches you underneath your dress, fingers pressed firmly against the wet patch on your panties as you bite your lip to keep in your moans.

“You’ve only met me today and you’re already this wet for me? You’re such an easy little thing. Do you get this turned on just for anyone or am I doing that much damage to you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but Wonwoo waits patiently; wanting to hear your reply anyway. Under any other circumstances, you’d probably punch a guy that called you easy, but for some reason the way Wonwoo says it has you getting even wetter.

“I, mmh, don’t normally… d-do this I swear.” He has you pressed against the bookshelf, a leg slotted in between yours as he braces his other hand next to your head. Wonwoo’s thumb presses hard against your clit, the fabric of your panties adding extra friction as you grind down onto his hand. “Oh? So I am just that special, huh? Lucky me, I’ve got such a cute girl cumming in the palm of my hand.” He chuckles at his own joke, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose ever so slightly.

Your hands dig into the fabric of his sweater vest, wanting nothing more than to just cum so you can go back to working on your essay and simultaneously dying of embarrassment that you got that turned on from a guy you’d just met a couple hours ago and he made you cum in some back part of the library.

“Wonwoo, can you… touch me harder, I’m really close...” You whisper. He hums, his fingertips grazing the hem of your panties.

“Harder? Or would you want my fingers instead? I wonder how many of them you could take before you’re begging me to just fuck you?” The juxtaposition of his words and his gentle touch is enough to send you over the edge, biting your lip to keep in any sounds that threaten to escape. He lets you ride out your orgasm before his hand is slipping from underneath your dress and he’s pulling away. Your dress slides back down into place, not a hair on your head looking disheveled other than the fact your face is redder than a tomato.

Wonwoo adjusts his glasses, hands immediately smoothing down any wrinkles on his clothes after.

“My shift is almost up here and I need to get to my archeology class afterwards but if you’re ever curious about the male form, I’m a willing subject.” 

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Kihyun

Pairing: Yoo Kihyun x reader

Genre: ENT doctor – hospital au / romance / musical actress au

Warnings: medical terms and recovery, slight suggestive tone at the end

Word count: 3579

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

“He’s the best of the best,” your manager Dot had urged, her tone too excited for something so serious. “You’ll be back to singing in no time. In fact, you’ll be singing my praises once it’s all over and done with!”

You hadn’t appreciated Dot’s enthusiasm one bit but you couldn’t deny as you looked at the oak door before you that her glowing recommendation had you more than a little hopeful for today’s hospital appointment.

You needed to see the best ENT specialist if you wanted to recover and return to your headlining spot as a musical actress.

“Miss L/N?” a well-presented nurse called out and you perked up from your seat, watching her reach for the handle of the oak door and welcoming you inside. “Doctor Yoo is ready for you now.”

Stepping inside the office, you took in the wall of accolades appreciatively and then sat in the seat the nurse directed you to in front of an expansive desk. Looking at the various medical models upon a shelf near another door, you jumped when it opened suddenly and a young doctor entered the room.

This surprised you greatly. You had expected someone much older if he was the best in this field.

“Hello Y/N, I’m Doctor Yoo, your specialist for today,” he greeted with a broad smile that curled up his eyes behind his circular glasses.

Smiling curtly as you slipped your hand into his outstretched one, you greeted the handsome man quietly as you battled with the conflicted thoughts within your mind. You wanted a doctor who could help you, not someone who looked as if he had just graduated from medical school.

Doctor Yoo then perched on the front of his desk in front of you, still smiling comfortably. “Are you nervous? Don’t be. If anything, it should be me who is taken back in your presence. I’ve seen you perform a few times. I never expected I’d be treating you for a vocal cord condition, however.”

“These things happen,” you mentioned politely whilst silently berating yourself for the umpteenth time.

You knew better than to overdo it. The warnings from the professionals working for your production team had been there all along. Your voice was what had earned you just as many accomplishments as the doctor had upon his wall. You were a rising star, a household name in affluent circles. Your roles had surpassed all your childhood expectations and now you were headlining the biggest acts each year.

Your greed was what led you to sitting in front of the specialist today. You craved to be better than your last performance every time. And now you couldn’t even sing one simple line, let alone talk without your voice breaking and feeling hoarse consistently.

“Of course, I’ve seen it countless times, so you’re in good hands.”

“I can’t help but notice your appearance doesn’t quite match what I expected when hearing you’re the best in this field, Doctor Yoo.”

“There’s the honest side to you that I was waiting for,” he mentioned with a grin as he rounded his desk and sat behind it. Somehow, this shift in position did seem to change the power within the room. He looked more like a doctor to you now as he scanned your file on the computer screen to the left of the desk. Doctor Yoo then nodded grimly. “These symptoms don’t sound pleasant.”

“I’ve had some preliminary testing done and-”

“The laryngoscopy results were inconclusive of either suspected vocal cord nodules or paralysis.”

“Hardly the latter, don’t you think? I can still talk and paralysis sounds…”

“Permanent?” the man offered and you nodded. He shook his head immediately. “It is a concern to treat any of these in someone who needs their voice for their career as some damage is hard to repair. But it’s not impossible to overcome with the right vocal therapy and treatment. Shall we get to business? So, you know, I can exercise my expertise and show you that being one of the younger doctors in this profession doesn’t make me incompetent.”

You bit back your flustered response, swallowing roughly before nodding. “That’s why I’m here, Doctor Yoo.”

It was a long two hours in and out of Doctor Yoo’s office. He did testing with you in person, asking for you to complete various exercises using your voice and throat, and then took you in to get some further images of your larynx. Not only was he thorough with his examination and took more time with his assessment than the last two doctors had, but you could also sense his superiority in skill. You appreciated him the longer you spent time in his company, able to tell just how dedicated he was to his patients and his skill.

You felt you were within very capable hands.

“So how was that?” Doctor Yoo mentioned when he had you seated back in front of his desk, a sly smile tainting his otherwise impeccable professionalism.

“I’ll express what I think when you’re done telling me the official results of the tests, Doctor.”

“Well, that seems fair.” He steepled his fingers together upon the tabletop of the desk and sighed. “It’s as I expected in beginning, you have a condition referred commonly to as Vocal Cord Paralysis.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“With the symptoms present and the way you performed through the examination, it was evident that you had-”

“Are you sure?” you interjected, panic rising within you. Admittedly you had hoped for a nodule, or two. Then you could simply undertake surgery and then vocal therapy and get back to work within a couple of months. You’d seen celebrities battle vocal nodules and their turn around from injury to comeback stage wasn’t that bad. You could hardly tell the difference in their vocal tone as well.

But this prognosis held greater risks. You didn’t need to be a doctor to know this. You had researched the condition, fooling yourself that despite the list of symptoms you weren’t in this category as it was usually a cause to an underlying medical condition. Aside from your vocal injury, you were in the best health you had been in years.

The doctor’s expression was unchanged. Resolute. You knew Doctor Yoo wouldn’t be telling you this unless it was the only outcome of his findings. Blinking back tears, you darted your focus towards his accomplishments, feeling insignificant within their presence.

“It’s not all bad news, Y/N. I know it’s not as simple as you no doubt imagined, but we can get through this together. For one, your condition is a mild case, which will respond well to treatment and heal faster than if it were more severe. I don’t think this is a cause of misuse of your vocal cords either.”

“What? But, that’s ridiculous. Why else would I be here? I’m a musical actress; my job is to perform every night for two months at a time. I’ve been yelling, singing and putting pressure on my vocal cords for a great deal lately and-”

“You were in a car accident earlier in the year, were you not?”

“Yes, though it was minor and I only suffered whiplash from it,” you stated, the doctor now tapping in further notes. “Surely that wouldn’t cause this kind of damage.”

“One of your vocal cords isn’t opening and closing as it should. We typically see this condition in patients with some sense of trauma to the area. And whilst I know firsthand the type of demand on your vocal cords you would have every day in your profession, I don’t think it’s entirely your fault.”

It was overwhelming to hear this. You had spent the last few weeks with the rapid decline in your ability to even speak clearly blaming yourself for everything. Could it have been more out of your control than you had thought? Glancing up at the doctor waiting on you to process his words, he smiled.

“Either way, we know what is wrong with your vocal cords and I’m certain we will have you back to singing again, Y/N.”

“But not within the next couple of months.”

He nodded softly. “A fair bit longer. But I promise, my time with you will be worth it.”

Doctor Yoo hadn’t been wrong. The second test results confirmed his diagnosis and after some bulk injections to strengthen your vocal cords, you started vocal therapy with the doctor. You would mostly meet with him in his private clinic away from the hospital and you happened to like this space much better. It was still professional, but not as intimidating as his office in the hospital.

You also loosened off a little within these sessions.

“You once said to me that you knew firsthand what vocal cord troubles felt like.”

The man before you demonstrating the next exercise soon chuckled. “Memory skills are not lacking with you.”

“Of course not, I have to remember my lines as if they’re embedded into my very soul. I could recite my first musical role to you if I had to.”

“Impressive,” he replied and motioned for you to start the breathing exercise. “I used to sing.”

“Used to?”

“Focus on your exercise,” he warned, checking the air filling your diaphragm. Satisfied you were stable, Doctor Yoo continued. “When I was a teen I actually belonged to a musical theatre club too. I was stupid and dumb about my talent and got vocal nodules. Most people recover from this condition but for me, I was so used to belting out my notes that I could never reach the range I was known for again.”

“You were a theatre kid?” Blinking in confusion, you peered at your doctor more closely. “Did we ever cross paths?”

He smiled to himself knowingly. “I guess you could say that.”

“Where?”

“Next exercise,” Doctor Yoo instructed and left you puzzled until the very end of the session.

Of course, you went straight online to research the doctor. You knew his first name was Kihyun, though little results appeared outside of his already rather detailed medical career.

At your next appointment, you attempted to ask again, and he deflected your interest, seemingly enjoying being an enigma to you. It infuriated you but if there was one thing he wasn’t prepared for, was how diligent you were to find the answers to any problem you held within your heart or mind.

“You went to the same theatre program as I did, didn’t you?” you mentioned two weeks later, and the man smirked.

“Still trying to figure this out?”

“Well, you’re supplying very little information, Doctor Yoo.”

“Please, if you’re researching me this ardently, call me Kihyun. I’ve been on a first-name basis with you from the beginning; we should really level this out.”

You pursed your lips together and nodded. “Will you answer me?”

“Will you work very hard on strengthening your vocal cords today?” he shot back and you rolled your eyes.

“Isn’t that why I’m here?”

“I don’t know, sometimes I think you’re too interested in finishing your puzzle.”

“I knew you were tormenting me on purpose, Kihyun!”

He grinned, thrilled with the use of his first name. “Well, it’s been fun having you as my patient. Even better knowing that your memory skills fail you somewhat.”

“Excuse me?!” you exclaimed and then stopped, glaring at the smug doctor as you dealt the strain on your larynx. “Did you not praise my skills recently?”

“Oh yes, but they’re still lacking. Until you fix them, I don’t know if I should give you the answers you want.”

“You’re infuriating!”

“Now now, the doctor knows best and I think it’s more important we focus on this week’s session, don’t you?”

It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did, but Kihyun’s lack of answer drove you insane. You were more than convinced the doctor was simply messing with you, but it had gotten to extreme measures and now before you were all the yearbooks from your theatre school days. You started at the latest editions, looking through the clearer memories since you were older in age then. However, it wasn’t until you reached your fifteenth-year-old self that you realised just how much you had forgotten.

There, next to you, in your first lead role in a Romeo and Juliet musical, was a guy with longer hair than he sported now, reminding you of a whole lot more than just the musical theatre life.

How had you forgotten Yoo Kihyun like this?!

Embarrassment flamed your skin as the annoyance seeped throughout you. Of all the people, this child had grown up to be your doctor? You almost scoffed at how improbable this all seemed.

And then you remembered Kihyun’s sudden disappearance.

The reason he had departed from your world and turned to partying, and other teenage behaviours you had no interest in at the time, was because of his vocal nodules? Your heart panged with sadness that he had chosen that path instead of reaching out for help from you. Then again, you were prickly back then, even worse than now. Would you have been approachable for your co-star? You smiled sadly with the silver lining that Kihyun had grown up from his rebellious youth into someone as competent as he was.

You were more subdued at your next appointment because of your discovery, however.

Watching you carefully as you performed the exercise he asked for you to do without little complaint, Kihyun sighed. “You remember, don’t you?”

“How could I forget my first kiss?” you shot back and Kihyun grinned. “The prompt in the script was to pretend, not full-on kiss me as I lay there!”

“Is that why you forgot about me? Because you wanted to erase how your first kiss went? In all fairness, not a bad first kiss to have.”

“In front of a full house, with my parents there, no less?” you pointed out and Kihyun shrugged loosely. “I actually wasn’t that mad by it.”

“Then why did you-”

“Your disappearance. I guess when you gave up on theatre, after I got over my initial annoyance from having to work with your understudy for the remainder of the season, I must have stopped giving you space in my mind.”

“You knew where I was.”

“Partying, drinking, and doing god knows what else.”

“Suffering alone,” he concluded and your eyes softened when your gaze connected with his. Kihyun chuckled, though it wasn’t as connected as before. “Don’t pity me, Y/N. I got over it and realised I was being an idiot. I chose to become an Otolaryngologist to help others so they don’t lose their chance for something they want to keep in the future.”

“You can’t sing anymore?”

“Not powerfully. But I’ve improved. My interest is no longer there like before. I’d rather execute a medical surgery with no complications than worry about stressing out my falsetto too much.”

“I don’t know what I would do without being a musical actress,” you admitted and Kihyun nodded, patting your upper arm gently.

“The good news is, with how much you’re progressing, you won’t have to think about it.”

It had taken an entire year to make it back to standing on a practise stage. Even longer to be strong enough to sing as you once had. Your voice tired more easily, and whilst you wanted to headline your comeback stage, you knew it was more practical to take the second lead role.

Your vocal therapy ended eight months into your recovery, and you hadn’t seen Kihyun since. It felt strange to not visit his office anymore, and sometimes you found yourself standing in front of it, not realising you had driven there until you were parking your car and getting out.

So many times, you wished to go up to the eighth floor and visit the office again. Or book an appointment just for extra treatment. But you knew it was pointless. You had parted ways amicably, with the loose promise that Kihyun was looking forward to your return to the big stage.

Maybe that was why you had worked so hard to make sure when you returned that it was in your best possible condition ever.

“Are you nervous?”

Glancing at your manager standing in front of the promotional poster for this musical, Sun and Moon, you nodded. “More than I was to take my first Broadway stage.”

“Really?”

“Coming back from my vocal injury is a big deal. I’ve already been interviewed four times this week about it, remember,” you mentioned and Dot smiled.

“I’m sure you’ll remind them why you’re a formidable actress.”

“I just hope to make it to the end without making any noticeable vocal mistakes.”

You had made peace with yourself over the weeks of rehearsals that you couldn’t be perfect anymore. Your voice would lead the way, and you could only work with what it best offered you. Still, the interviews had made your nerves skyrocket, and you wrung your hands together in your lap as you stared back at your made-up complexion.

You would do well and that was all that mattered.

It wasn’t long into the first act that you completely relaxed into your role. Acting was now a second skin for you to slip into. You became one with your character and by the end of the performance, you had almost forgotten about the audience.

You were just having fun dancing, singing and acting on the big stage again.

The applause brought you back to reality, and as you lined up with your co-stars for the final curtain call, you felt yourself growing anxious again.

Was Kihyun really here?

Looking as best as you could past the flashing lights and up into the multiple rows of the full house, you searched the crowd for his familiar face. Your hopes dashed when you couldn’t find him anywhere, laughing a little at how much you had anticipated him being here for your first stage back.

After changing out of your final act’s outfit, you joined the rest of the cast out in the foyer to meet with those grateful of your performance tonight. You thanked several familiar patrons for their support and then turned when someone called your name, your eyes widening when you connected with the person.

He came. He was here.

Kihyun smiled brightly as he approached you, thrusting a large bouquet of flowers in your dazed direction. “Congratulations on your comeback, Y/N.”

Soul searching his expression, you shook your head; blinking even to make sure the doctor was still standing before you. Kihyun helped you out by shaking your stupor off. You let out a shaky breath. “You’re really here.”

“I told you I wouldn’t miss it. I mean, your recovery is down to my expertise. I had to see how my hard work paid off in person, didn’t I? You were exceptional.”

“Are you complimenting me or yourself right now?”

Kihyun chuckled. “There’s the Y/N I know well.”

“Do you really?” you shot back and Kihyun’s humour faded. “I don’t know if you know all about me yet.”

“How so-”

Your lips pressed to his quickly, your eyes snapping closed as you tried to shut out everyone else around you. This, this was why you had been searching for Kihyun all this time in your world. You hadn’t realised until seeing him again that your reconnection with him as his patient had led to a rise in feelings within you.

You knew now that back when he very first kissed you that you had liked him then as well.

When you pulled back, it was Kihyun’s turn to look stuck, his mouth still slightly ajar as he contemplated the impromptu kiss. Swallowing visibly and tucking his jaw back up, Kihyun cocked his head to the side. “Is that payback for me taking your first kiss without warning?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s not very professional of me to be locking lips with my patients, Y/N.”

“Ex-patient,” you corrected and Kihyun couldn’t hide his amused smile. You nodded with his previous comment, however. “You’re right. It’s not very professional of a musical actress to get involved with her ENT doctor either.”

“Ex-doctor,” he refuted, sharing a grin with you. “Right now, I’m off the clock so I’m not technically breaking any laws.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm,” he hummed, stepping closer to you and running his hand gently over the side of your neck. “Maybe you need more training.”

“I do?”

“Well, I haven’t heard just how well you can control those vocal cords of yours yet. I think maybe I should take you out for dinner and we’ll see if I can get a private performance later.”

“How bold of you to assume I wish to give you one,” you stated, though your heart was thudding in your chest with anticipation. “Haven’t I performed enough tonight for you?”

“Maybe you’ll get to hear what’s left of my falsetto too,” Kihyun enticed and you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder affectionately. He wrapped his arms around you as you smelt the flowers he had gifted you.

“You know, I have often wondered what you sound like now.”

“So I have your interest in another puzzle of mine?”

“I’m always interested in you, Doctor Yoo.”

“I thought we resolved this a long time ago,” he responded with a wicked smile, holding you close enough to kiss you again. “Call me Kihyun.”

_________________

Next: Hyungwon

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[MONSTA X Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[wordsfromthesol]

Character Model

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: You may or may not have been following Jason Todd around a bookstore so you could model one of your story characters after him. He may or may not have noticed. Warnings: Language? Word Count: 2k A/N: Just a story from my drafts folder. Sorry I haven’t been able to write any of the wonderful requests I have sitting in my inbox...work has been running me ragged. But they are coming! Love you all 💛

You had no idea where this man came from, but he was perfect. Exactly what you envisioned the assassin prince in your newest story to look like, and he just waltzed into the bookstore. First, you tried to ignore him…after all it would be kind of creepy to stare at this man while sketching him and jotting down little details about the way he walks, talks, runs his fingers through his hair. The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t get him out of your mind. As you watched his mannerisms, he just became more perfect. Fuck it. You got up from your seat and moved closer to him, pretending to look at the books on the shelf. It wasn’t a very good cover story, as it was quite obvious you were drawing him. I will never see this man again, who cares.

You were never the best artist, but the image got the message across. Once it was complete, you continued following him awkwardly around the store jotting down notes. His interest in certain books, the way he seemed to survey the bookstore…Maybe he is an assassin prince? Those didn’t actually exist right? You ignored those thoughts as you commented on his gait. Wrapped up in your descriptions, you didn’t realize he was now watching you. That is until you looked up again and saw his steel blue eyes staring into yours.

“What are you profiling me for, doll?”

You spun around, hoping he wasn’t talking to you. No such luck. “Oh, uhm, I wasn’t?”

“Hmm, sure does look like it. Can I see that sketch?”

“Heh, you saw that?” He raised his eyebrows. Of course he saw it, Y/N, you are being creepy. “Okay, I swear I’m not stalking you! I just…gosh this is going to sound so stupid…you look exactly like how I envisioned this character in my head…for a story.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Some people would beg to differ, but I guess technically.”

“So what’s the character then?”

Okay now he’s going to be offended. “Uhm…an assassin? But he’s also like prince to the guild thing. It’s kind of complicated.”

“So I look like an assassin?”

“Kind of…?” To your surprise the man chuckled.

“Not gunna lie, I’ve been called so much worse.”

Why are you so awkward? “Well sorry for being creepy…” You turned to leave and didn’t notice the man following you until you nearly slammed the front door in his face.

“I think I deserve to see that sketch after you followed me around for an hour AND tried to knock me out with a door.”

“Oh my go – I’m so sorry, I figured I’d thoroughly…embarrassed myself, so I left…why are you following me?”

“Thought I’d return the favor?” You gave him a nervous smile, the thought of this very large strange man walking you home, at night, in Gotham, did not provide you with much peace. “Relax, you look just like a character I imagined…” He quipped, trying to ease your obvious discomfort.

“Not funny.”

“Really though, it’s dark and getting late and this is Gotham.” You eyed him suspiciously, this still probably wasn’t the smartest move on your part, but you relented and motioned for him to follow.

“Don’t make fun of it, I’m a writer not an artist. This is purely for research.” You commented as you passed him the sheet of notebook paper.

“It looks good, I especially like all the little notes about me. Ruggedly handsome? Piercing steel blue eyes?”

Shit. I forgot about those. “Uhm, yeah.” You tried to snatch the paper back, but he could easily keep it from you. “It was research!” Huffing, you remember some of the descriptions were not very complimentary. Watching his eyes scan the page, you tried to explain. “Some of them are just for the character, don’t take it…”

“No, they are all…pretty spot on I’d say.” His voice turned solemn, almost sad, as he passed the paper back to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” he waved it off, picking back up his nonchalant timbre.

The two of you mindless chatted about your favorite books until you arrived at your apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Thanks again…” You had just realized the two of you never exchanged names. “My name’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Jason. I’ll see you around. Try not to stalk anyone else.”

“No promises!” You called out as you entered the apartment.

**

It had been nearly a week, and honestly you didn’t expect to see the stranger again. After all, how would you? No numbers or last names were exchanged. Yet there he was, sitting across from you at the coffee shop, face buried in a book. This man is actually reading in a coffee shop. He looked so out of place compared to all the usual suspects. It would be creepy if I remembered him, right? I’m just going to ignore him. Your plan didn’t last long, as Jason soon came up and sat beside you.

“Stalking anyone new today?”

“Oh, I uhm…no. Writing about you actually…the character! The character not you.” God, you’re so smooth. You thought as you brought your hand up to cover your face.

“So how is assassin me doing today?”

“Honestly? You’re kind of being a bitch. Like how am I supposed to know how you will react if you are refusing to tell me?”

“Uhm…isn’t that the part you’re supposed to make up?”

“No, I made up you…the assassin…now you’re…they’re supposed to tell me what they want to do.”

“Uh huh. Right. You know they aren’t real right? Like I’m not actually a killer prince.”

“Heh, yeah I know. Wouldn’t that be cool though?”

“I just think you’d be assassinated.”

“Ohh, harsh. Though, sadly, I would just be murdered.”

“No, I had it right.” Jason gave you a smirk as he got up from the table and walked out the door.

Did that actually just happen? You quickly gathered your things and threw them into your computer bag, racing after him. “WAIT!” You noticed he had stopped just outside the door and well before you called after him.

“Walking home?”

“Uhm, yeah. Can I ask you some questions first?”

“How about you can ask me questions until we get to your apartment building?”

“Deal.”

It was a short ten-minute walk, but you picked his brain. Giving him situations to see how he would react. This was way easier than you rewriting the scene, or going back and forth for hours before giving up and not writing anything at all. In fact, his reactions were eerily similar to that of your murderous character. You weren’t accidentally copying his life, right?

**

The next time you saw him, you were out with friends at some random bar. He sat there stoically on the bar stool, staring into space. This was so…like if your character had just murdered someone. No, he couldn’t have. Probably just a bad day. You excused yourself from the group of friends and slide in to the stool besides Jason.

“So, Jason, bad day?”

“Oh, Y/N. I didn’t…you’re here.”

“Yeah, I try to have a life sometimes. Albeit very rarely.”

“Hm, well, don’t let me keep you.”

“That’s alright, they are content without me.” You pointed towards a group of people. “And plus, you look like you need some company.”

“…”

“Man, riveting stuff. So, what are you drinking?”

“Whiskey.”

“Just…straight? Alright, spill. Remember I know you.”

“I…just had a bad day at work. I’ll get over it.”

“I’m sure whatever happened wasn’t your fault. Some situations are inevitable.”

“I guess.”

“So what do you do, exactly?”

A sad, solemn smile laced his lips as he got up from the bar. “Another time. Get home safe, Y/N.”

“That wasn’t an answer…” you mumbled as you made your way back to your friends.

**

Just the next day, you were mindless going aisle by aisle in the grocery store, when you feel someone slightly bump into you. You whipped your head around to see the culprit, when what you saw was Jason with a big grin on his face.

“I’m starting to think you never stopped stalking me.”

“If anything, you’re stalking me. This is the closest grocery to my apartment…which you know the address of. I have no clue where you live.”

“Fair enough.” He looked down at the assorted items in your cart, “got a plan for those?”

“Honestly, my version of cooking is throwing some things in a pan and hoping for the best.”

“Hm, well, I could come over and show you some things?”

“Jason, I don’t know your middle or last name, are you offering to cook for me?”

“Peter Todd, and yes, Y/N  Y/M/N  Y/L/N, I am.”

You looked at him with surprise, “See, now who’s stalking who.”

He started to trail off with a smirk, “I’ll be at yours at 6!”

Did that seriously just happen? How did he know my name? Once you were done you raced home to clean. You were so not prepared for guests, with your scratch paper and sticky notes strewn about the apartment. As soon as the clock struck 6, you heard a knock at the door.

**

Jason tried to show you what he’s doing in the kitchen, but you couldn’t care less. You sat on the counter, pretending to listen to the instructions, while sipping on the wine in your hand.

“You’re not retaining any of this, are you?”

“Hmm, not really. But I’m quite enjoying watching you do it.” You motioned for him to continue preparing the meal.

“Are you just trying to get a free meal?”

“Well, technically I paid for the food, I’m just after the free chef…that was…I meant like after the preparation of the food…not after you…” Shut up Y/N, you are making it worse.

“That’s alright, I’m just after the free writer.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at you before returning to the stove.

“Does cooking always take this long? It’s nearly 7!” You were trying to quickly change the subject and forget the embarrassment you had just endured.

“Calm down, doll, it’s nearly ready. Grab some plates.” You hopped off the counter and took two plates down from the cabinet, placing them next to the stove before sitting at your kitchen island patiently waiting to be served food.

**

“Okay, this is amazing. MAYBE worth the hour wait.”

“Oh well MAYBE I’ll take it back then.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Though both of your plates had been empty for hours, and the mess in the kitchen was staring you in the face, neither of you could seem to move. You found anything and everything to talk about, well almost everything. For some reason he still wouldn’t tell you what he did for a living. Which annoyed you because whatever it was clearly took its toll.

“Okay, fine! Don’t tell me, some big ole secret. I’m beginning to think you actually are an assassin prince and your consciousness just went into mine…so now you’re a character in my book.”

“I guess I’ll just have to read it and let you know.”

You side-eyed him, “You can read it when I find out what you do?” You knew at this point there was no hope in getting an answer.

“Tempting. Perhaps you can tempt me further Wednesday night.” Jason rose from the stool and traipsed over to the door. You quickly followed him, mainly out of sheer confusion.

“What’s Wednesday night?”

“Well, I figure those leftovers will last about two days. Can’t leave you without your free chef.” At this point his face was inches from yours. “I’ll be here at 6.” He whispered as he quickly spun on his heel and left.

[pixiegrl]

I’m Back in My Body

Luke has a conversation with KayKay that pushes him to re-consider his own gender identity.

Hello all. This was born out of @daydadahlias and I chatting about KayKay in their latest fic and Jess reminded me of part of this series, where I had KayKay come out as non-binary and in turn, it helped Luke come out as non-binary. KayKay uses she/they pronouns and Luke uses he/they pronouns. So thank Jess for pushing me to finish this part of the series. I’ve been thinking about Luke’s gender in this series for a while and Jess gave me the push i needed to explore it. 

Big thanks to @tigerteeff for many things: the original push to write this series, to keep going with this series, for the encouragement of having Luke and KayKay be non-binary. Heath has inspired many parts of this series and I love them for it. Also thanks to @lifewasradical, for the help on this doc and the constant love and support I really wouldn't be half the writer I am without you I love you thanks for putting up with me. And to Mandie, Molly, Brooke and Meg for reminding me to do what I love and listening to me while I ranted about writing. Love you guys.

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793279

As far as days go, it’s a pretty average Tuesday. Ashton’s out doing some music things with his friend Matt and Michael and Calum are doing their own weird MikeyandCal things that had sounded vaguely close to sexual. Luke had pouted about being left until Ashton had kissed him and told him it was healthy to spend time apart. Luke doubts it, but it also gives him some free time to go hang out with (harass) Sierra and KayKay at the store. 

Luke shows up close to noon, blowing through the door in a floral sundress and heeled gold boots. It had been one of those mornings, when Luke had looked at all of his pants and felt uncomfortable at the thought of anything masculine. The weather’s nice enough for sundresses now, a relief to Luke’s scratchy brain when he’d put it on. It’s a dress Sierra recommended once, all soft pinks and bright flowers and he wants Sierra to see it. 

Sierra’s standing at the counter, clicking around on her laptop. She grins when she spots Luke, waving him over.

“Luke! Just the person I was hoping to see. I’m putting the final touches on those photos you wanted for Ashton’s gift. Come look!” She waves him over. Luke grins, crossing the store to lean over the counter and look at her computer. 

Luke looks good in them, propped up and posed on the couch they’d used, in his bed (which had taken some convincing to get Ashton out of the house long enough without him suspecting what was going on). Luke looks soft and delicate, pink lips and soft curls and wrapped in lace and bows.

“They look so good, Si. How’d you manage to make me look so good?” 

“Thank KayKay. Without them taking the photos, they wouldn’t look so good. I can only do so much in editing. You’re easy to photograph and KayKay took such good photos of you.”

“I’m not a particularly good model. KayKay’s just really good.”

“Give yourself some credit Luke,” Sierra says, smacking Luke on the arm. He blushes. 

“Where is KayKay anyway?”

“In the back. Why don’t you go see them?” Sierra says, going back to the laptop. Luke nods, rounding the counter and going behind the curtain. KayKay’s sitting at the table in the back on a computer. KayKay glances up at Luke and that’s when he notices the name badge. It has KayKay’s name on it, but under that is listed they/them. Luke stops.

“Hey Luke,” they say smiling, holding their hand out to Luke. Luke sits down next to them, looking down at the name badge.

“Hey KayKay. Sierra was just showing me the photos. Are the pronouns new?” Luke blurts out, questions running through his mind. 

“No. Some days are just more they days and today is one of them, so I put my pronouns on my nametag. No confusion that way.”

“What do you mean they days?” 

“I’m non-binary Luke. Sometimes I have days where I feel comfortable being a woman and some days I don’t feel gender connected at all.”

“I...I didn’t know about that,” Luke says, quietly. The words stick with him, something about the feeling about them sitting heavy in his chest. He can’t place what it is about what KayKay’s said that’s sticking with him, but he’s just on the edge of it as he stares at their face.

“Did you really not know I was non-binary?” 

“I guess I just never paid attention to some of the cues or the pronouns you two used or whatever. I feel so stupid now.” 

“If you had misgendered me, I would have said something.” 

“What does it mean?” 

“What does what mean?” 

“Being non-binary. What does it mean for you?” 

KayKay shrugs, pushing a strand of hair behind their ear. Luke tracks the movement, trying to focus on it, to stop the panic in his own chest that he can’t place. 

“I just don’t always feel right in my own body. Sometimes I wake up and I feel okay. I feel like this is who I am. That I’m a woman and it’s okay. That that’s how I want to present myself and be seen by the world as on those days. Some days I wake up and I know it’s not one of those days. I know it’s not going to be a day where I feel right with myself. I feel a disconnect from the person I am. Sometimes feeling right with myself means I don’t feel like a woman. I just feel like me, no gender attached. It changes how I present myself, how I want the world to see me. Sometimes I don’t want to be seen at all. I just want to exist without anyone labeling me or who I am. Some days I don’t mind the labels. Some days I’m indifferent. Some days it feels like I can’t handle it if someone gives me a gendered label and I have to correct them. Everyone’s different but that’s how I feel,” they say, smiling over at Luke, soft and slow. Luke swallows, feels his chest tighten a little bit. 

“Oh,” Luke whispers, wrinkling up his nose. A lot of what they’re saying feels a little too close to home for Luke. The feeling of unrest in their body, of not feeling connected to the image they’re putting on. How the idea of how other people’s perception was wrong to how they were feeling. It all feels too close to how Luke feels. The sense of unease on some days when interviewers would call them all boys. The fact that the lingerie and dresses blur the lines of who Luke is. That no matter how nice it is, seeing the look of want and desire on Ashton’s face when he sees what Luke’s wearing, it was never about that. It was always about Luke’s ability to breathe, the warmth in his chest, the feeling of security he got whenever he put it all on. It was always about how he felt like it was coming home, getting to see himself in the mirrors, see the delicate lines and soft angles, crying the illusion of softness and femininity to his body, the tightness easing when he sees himself in the mirrors. Luke thinks he might be crying, feels the pressure at the back of his eyes.

“Luke, have you really never thought about this before?” KayKay asks, voice soft. Luke turns to face them, sees the look of concern on their face. Luke just shakes his head, pressing his face into his crossed arms. He’s trying so hard not to cry, doesn’t want KayKay to see him like this, even if they’re his friend. He hates when anyone who isn’t Ashton sees him at his lowest. 

“I guess I didn’t want to. I had one teenage panic about my sexuality. I already had the crisis about wearing lingerie and the dresses and everything else. I have had so many fucking crisises. I’m supposed to be happy now, why can’t I just be happy with who I am,” Luke mumbles. He sniffs, trying to stop the tears from flowing. KayKay sighs, scooting closer till they’re pressed against Luke’s side. They wrap their arms around him in a pseudo hug, resting their head on top of his. 

“Luke, honey, describe to me again how you feel when you wear everything?”

“Happy. I feel so happy. I put the first pair of panties on and it just felt right. I haven’t fit right in my own body since I had my growth spurt when I got all broad and tall. I used to hate looking at myself because I felt too big and masculine and I just miss feeling delicate and it did that. It made me feel delicate and lovely and I felt like I could breath. And I have some days where just wearing them underneath my shirts and trousers are enough, where I feel masculine and that’s okay. But I have some days, where I have to wear it all. I have to put on the dress and the heels and I go out in all of it, where I want to deck myself out, I want to be as feminine as possible. I had someone call me Miss in the store once,” Luke says. KayKay hums. 

“How did you feel?” 

“About?” 

“Her perception of you.” 

Luke pauses, considering it. He hasn’t thought about the incident in months. It was one of the few days where he’s gotten dressed up and gone out in public without any of the guys and without going to Sierra and KayKay’s store. He’d woken up feeling itchy in his own skin, kept pulling on layers, the bra and panties not doing anything on their own. He’d had to put on a whole thing, long flowing summer dress and wedges, makeup to match, until he’d felt comfortable enough to look in the mirror. He’d gone to Ulta and ended up poking around the makeup until a sales associate had come over, called him Miss, asked if he needed anything. She’d asked for his name and without thinking he’d said Liz. He doesn’t know what made him say it, knows that even if he had said Luke no one would have cared, but something in the moment made him want to be feminine. He’s never told anyone this before, took the memory home with him. He never even told Ashton about it, the way the feeling of it had settled in his chest, having someone look at him and see feminine.

“It felt okay. Having someone see me and see feminine it just felt so good. I have to be Stage Luke all the time, that it just felt nice to have someone see me and not wonder. But I don’t feel female enough either, ” Luke says. 

“Maybe that’s what it means for you. For me, being non-binary means I have some days where I feel like a woman, like that’s who I am and some days where I just feel like I’m not, where I don’t feel connected to my gender at all. For you, maybe it means some days you feel more masculine and comfortable being a man and sometimes you don’t feel that way at all. Maybe some days you feel more feminine.” 

“Is that allowed?” 

“Luke sweetie, it’s you. It’s all about how you perceive yourself, what you think of yourself as. There’s no right way or wrong way to be non-binary. That’s the beauty of it. It’s all up to you,” Kaykay says. Luke rolls the words around in his head, thinking about them. Thinks about what it means to have a word to describe how he’s feeling, the sense of who he is. Luke’s never felt all the way “female” exactly, but he does have days where that feels closer to who he is than “male” does. 

“Is it?”

“It is. It’s all a personal experience. That’s the wonderful thing about personal gender experiences. They’re unique to each person,” KayKay says, smiling at Luke, squeezing his arm. Luke smiles at them, pressing his face into their shoulder. 

“I think today is one of those days for me. I woke up and I thought about what I wanted to wear today and the idea of anything masculine made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t feel comfortable until I went through my whole routine.”

“So maybe today is a they day,” KayKay says softly. Luke rolls the words around in his head.

“I think maybe it is. I think today I want to try it,” Luke says softly. KayKay nods. It’s different to think about, trying to wrap their head around it, but it feels good. Thinking about themselves like that, removing the idea of being one or the other and just existing. 

“I’m proud of you Lu. I’m here if you need anything,” KayKay says, kissing them on the temple. Luke smiles, turning to face KayKay.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Now, I heard there were photos to show you. Come on, let’s gush about how pretty you are,” KayKay says, pulling Luke to their feet. Luke grins. It feels right, something about it just feels right.

***

When Luke gets home, Ashton’s car is already in the driveway. Luke sits in the car for a bit, tapping their fingers against the steering wheel. They’ve been thinking about the conversation since talking to KayKay, how to talk to Ashton about it. Luke doesn’t know if it’s too soon or whatever to talk to Ashton about how they’re feeling, but Luke wants Ashton to know. They want Ashton to know they’re exploring themselves and what it means to Luke. Luke’s nervous about how Ashton’s going to respond to it, but it’s Ashton. Luke’s pretty sure there’s nothing they could really do to upset Ashton at this point, easy-going, loving Ashton.

Luke turns off the car engine, leaving the car and heading up the steps to their front door.

“Hey Ash,” Luke calls, coming through the front door. They hear the sounds of Petunia’s nails on the floor, rushing to the door to demand attention from Luke. Luke gladly gives it to her, dropping to their knees and cooing at her.

“In the kitchen darling,” Ashton calls. Luke scoops up Petunia, making their way through the house, finding Ashton at the kitchen table. He’s clicking around on his laptop, frowning.

“What’s up Ash?”

“Looking for tickets to Australia. Fucking complicated to find anything on short notice.”

“Not expensive?”

“We’re rockstars baby,” Ashton teases, looking up at Luke. He’s wearing his glasses, smiling enough that his dimples are showing. Luke giggles, setting Petunia down so that they can climb into Ash’s lap, press a kiss to his lips. Ashton returns the kiss happily, squeezing Luke’s hips, letting Luke sling their arms around Ashton’s shoulders.

“You look nice,” Ashton says.

“Thanks. Felt like a good day for it. Went to see Sierra and KayKay.”

“How was it?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Luke says, figuring it’s better to get it over with. Ashton furrows his brow, letting Luke settle into his lap before turning away from his computer to face him.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“KayKay was talking to me about how they’re non-binary and I think I might be too. They were describing it and I just...I felt so connected to that. I don’t always feel right in my body. Sometimes I feel like Luke, like I’m okay in my own body, and sometimes I just don’t. I don’t feel quite female, but sometimes I just feel more feminine and that’s how I want the world to see me. I’m not sure what it all means, but I want to explore it.” 

“Oh Luke sweetie, of course you can. Whatever you need darling, I’m right here for you. Is today one of those days?”

“Yeah. I think it is. It just feels like it,” Luke says. Ashton nods, face open and understanding. Luke doesn’t have the words to keep describing how they’re feeling over and over again today, but Ashton’s easy acceptance and love feels good. It reminds Luke that they don’t have to figure everything out today, that they have time. They have time and they have the words to describe how they’re feeling and they have Ashton. Everything else will fall into place after that.

***

Luke waits a couple weeks before sitting down with Michael and Calum to talk about it. Luke spends the time between their revelation and sitting down to talk to the guys. It gives Luke some time to explore what their gender means for them, wrap their head around the words. KayKay is sweet about it, giving Luke answers and resources where they fail to have the answer. Between KayKay’s support and Ashton’s easy acceptance, it’s helped Luke figure out what they want to do. Luke’s still not sure how to come out to their family or even to their fans, but Luke knows that the only way to do that is to talk to Michael and Calum. Luke hasn’t come out to anyone except for Ashton yet. It feels right though, taking the first leap and telling the guys. Luke’s hoping that telling their closest friends will ease some of the tension and uncertainty of having to tell everyone else.

Ashton and Luke set up lunch with Michael and Calum, invited them over. It felt better, doing it in their own home, in a place of comfort. Luke’s nervous though, has been since they got up that morning, got dressed. Luke’s put on another sundress for the day, opting to blur their gender lines again, on a day where it feels the most appropriate. 

Michael and Calum showed up about an hour again, bringing some fruit salad with them to lunch. Luke’s been trying to work up the courage throughout all of lunch, find a way to work it naturally into the conversation. There hasn’t been a time yet and the longer Luke waits, the more nervous they get. Ashton’s been wonderful, pressed close to Luke and squeezing their thigh to comfort them. It’s just about the end of lunch when Luke finally finds a natural place in the conversation to finally bring it up.

“I have something to tell you guys,” Luke says when the conversation dies down.

“You’re leaving Ashton for Troye Sivan,” Michael says, tone teasing.

“I’m not...what is that the first person you think of?” Luke asks. Michael shrugs.

“You’ve decided to leave the band to become a mime,” Calum chimes in, grinning.

“Okay, I’m never letting either of you guess ever again,” Luke says, swatting at Ashton as he continues to laugh with Michael and Calum.

“Alright, alright what did you want to tell us?” Michael asks, when he finally stops. Luke frowns, lump in their throat. Ashton reaches over, squeezing their hand. 

“I’m non-binary. Everyone’s gender expression for identifying is different, but for me it means that someday I feel masculine and comfortable being Luke and being male. Somedays, I feel more feminine. I don’t want to be a woman necessarily, but I want to be seen as more feminine. I want to be less gendered,” Luke says, swallowing, chest tight. Michael reaches across the table, holding his hand out palm up, signaling for Luke to take his hand. Luke reaches out, letting Michael grab their hand and squeeze.

“What can we do for you?” Calum asks.

“Some days I want to use he/him pronouns and some days I want to use they/them pronouns. I’ll start telling you guys in the morning how I feel, especially if we’re doing interviews or public appearances, so I don’t get misgendered or have anyone refer to me with gendered words. I don’t want to change my name, I like Luke. I just want to adjust how the world perceives me. And I don’t know how to come out online or what to say to our management,” Luke says. 

“Fuck management. You gotta do what’s important for you. Say whatever you want online, we’ll back you up,” Michael says, all determination and indignation. 

“But what about our fans? Or the online response? I still have to worry about that,” Luke points out.

“Fuck them if they don’t want to respect you. I don’t need those fans,” Calum says. Luke swallows trying to blink back their tears. Michael and Calum leave their seats, wrapping Luke up in a hug and pressing soft kisses to their head. Luke knows it’s not that simple, can’t just say fuck it to what management will think or how their fanbase will respond. Luke knows it can’t be simple, coming out, expressing their gender publicly. Maybe the first step is for Luke to change their pronouns on their twitter and instagram bios, letting the world find out as they check their page. Getting to see the fan reaction that way would be incredible, pouring out support for them and letting them know how valid they are without having to make a big declaration about it. Luke knows it’s going to be interviews and explanations, trying to talk to people about who they are, but it’s nice. The easy love and acceptance from their friends, knowing that no matter what, they have Ashton and Michael and Calum on their side. The world’s a little brighter for Luke, getting to be themselves, getting to be happy, getting to do it all with their friends. Right here, wrapped up in the guys and their hug, the world feels brighter and full of love and possibilities. 

[neojeno]

I really wouldn't mind you aiding me with some tutorials love

giffing tutorial/resources

hi anon! sorry it took me so long to answer. i figured this might be helpful for others out there who have asked me similar questions, so i’ve compiled a pretty comprehensive list of tutorials/resources. idk about others but when i was new to giffing, it took me a lot of painful effort to go around and look for resources, so i’m putting it all here to make it a little easier!

i download videos using 4k video downloader. it will download very good quality 1080p videos in .mp4 format. if you’re downloading a 4k video, make sure to change the setting option to .mkv so that you get 4k and not 1080p—for obvious reasons since you want the highest quality.

i rely on kpopexciting to get .ts files — which are basically raw, very high quality video files for live performances. they are much less grainy than .mp4 versions of live performances—which are the ones you’ll see uploaded to youtube. i’ve found that 4k videos (in .mkv) are just as good quality as .ts, but obviously you will rarely see live performances in 4k, so get .ts when you can!! you can also try to find .ts files on twitter, but you may have to do a lot of digging. i wish i could recommend you twitter accounts, but the ones i used to go to have been very inactive/taken down all their drives :( but this website is really nice and updated frequently so i would recommend it!

vapoursynth links + download. the reason you would use vapoursynth is to resize your gif, while maintaining the optimal quality of the gif. if you gif without vapoursynth (.ie only using photoshop), it will still be fine, but the image quality may be grainier. also, you will definitely need vapoursynth to gif .ts files —more will be explained in the tutorial i’ve linked below. i would recommend that you have a high processing/lots of ram/newer desktop or laptop to use vapoursynth so that 1, your computer isn’t fried and 2, your vapoursynth process will go a lot faster. i am using a 2017 macbook pro for all my work, and it runs pretty well, but my laptop still gets pretty hot so just make sure you’re not running a million things in the background while using adobe products and vapoursynth lol. i used a pretty old and beat up 2011 model macbook air back then, and i will say that yes vapoursynth worked and ran on it, but it took much longer, and basically fried the laptop’s battery (aka i had to get the battery changed twice and the laptop would die randomly) but issok it was a school borrowed laptop so i didn’t feel too bad lol. im just saying this as a precaution, to preserve the health of your electronic devices!! but don’t be afraid to use vapoursynth! you should still try it at least once.

thank you to @realstraykids for this super detailed, really nice tutorial! it includes how and where to download videos, how to gif using vapoursynth, using photoshop, comparisons, coloring, and pretty much all you need to know. 10/10 would recommend

thank you to @dreamcolouring for this lifesaver!!! the best and easiest way to blur out unwanted captions/objects in your gifs. i recommend doing this step after converting your frames to video timeline and before you do sharpening and coloring. another tip i’ll add is to feather the selection you’ve made right before you click on “add vector mask” —this will make sense once you’ve read through the tutorial. feathering it will make the blurred spot less noticeable and more subtle.

i use this generator to create gradient colored captions! copy and paste your text, then select the colors you want. generate the code, and copy it. change the settings of the text editor on your post to HTML. paste the code, preview, and voila! add elements <blockquote>,<b>,<i>, etc as needed. see more on colored captions in this tutorial by @kylos​ --i believe op mentioned a different and better color generator but for some reason it won’t work for me :( hopefully it works for u! basically same idea as the previous generator i mentioned.

my own mini tutorial/workflow process of making gifs. this includes working with a .ts file, vapoursynth, photoshop, coloring, watermarking, etc. and a few of my own tips below:

if you are working with an .mp4, you do not have to make any changes to the preprocessor/denoise filters/sharpening in the resizing part of vapoursynth—it doesn’t make that big of a difference if you do. but if you are working with a .ts file, definitely do make those changes,, that’s the whole reason you have vapoursynth. with an .mp4, i like to use vapoursynth to just resize, but i don’t add any additional settings. i use smart sharpen in photoshop to sharpen it, which is pretty good on it’s own (at least in photoshop 2020!).

my rule of thumb is to do add .02 seconds when i am setting frame delay. so if when you first import the frames, they are at 0.04 seconds, i usually change them to 0.06. of course, this is my personal taste—you can make all your gifs faster or slower depending on how you want em to look.

if you are on a mac, you can screen record by pressing Command+Shift+5 (it’s a shortcut to quicktime screen recording). I only screen record for things like the beyond live concert or other live streamed events. the image quality of the screen recording, in my experience, is actually pretty good. when you gif the screen recording however, you may notice that it adds extra frames that you don’t need. by that i mean duplicate frames. you could keep the duplicate frames but that just means the size of your gif is going to be much bigger (keep in mind the limit is 8mb). in order to remove those duplicates, my only solution has been to remove them manually (by holding Command while selecting), or when you are importing the video to frames, select the option to “limit to every 2 frames”—but this method will be less precise and still not as good as manually removing frames. if you remove the duplicate frames, this means you will need to set the frame delay even slower, to make up for lost frames. in my experience, fps(frames per second) and frame delay work in conjunction. so for example, if i delete every other frame because they are duplicates,  but the starting frame delay is 0.02, i am now going to change it to something like 0.05 (so i added 0.03 seconds rather than my usual 0.02). if the duration length and the image dimensions of the gif are short/small, feel free to keep the duplicate frames in—i only delete duplicate frames in order to keep my gif under the 8mb limit. then, if you keep the duplicate frames in, continue with your standard frame delay preferences.  now that i’m writing this im realizing this might not make a lot of sense lol.. but don’t worry about it for now and if you run into trouble w screen recorded gifs then you can come back to this for reference. again, this is only my experience recording on a mac—it may be a lot different if you use a screen recording program or are on a pc.

i don’t really use .psd templates because i like to give every gif/gifset it’s own unique coloring—so i remake the coloring every time, but if you get into a rhythm it’s pretty easy. there are a lot of nice coloring tutorials out there, too! my personal coloring adjustments in order: levels, exposure, color balance, selective color (if needed), vibrance, photo filter (if needed), color lookup (i use 2strip most often and i put it on ‘color’ blending mode). don’t forget to adjust the opacities and fills of the ‘color lookup’ adjustment layer in case it’s too strong. go back to correct each adjustment layer as needed. then, when you’re done and satisfied, group all those layers, copy the group (you can do an easy command+c), and paste it onto the next gif you’re working on for easy workflow.

if for some reason you can’t see the frames when you import your layers/video, it’s likely because your ‘timeline’ window isn’t showing up. just go to the window menu on photoshop, go to the bottom and you’ll see ‘timeline.’ make sure it has a check next to it.

i recommend watermarking your gifs because a lot of people like to repost tings these days 😠 - so make sure u got your brand on it! i keep my watermark saved to my ‘libraries’ in photoshop so it’s ready when i need it. i use the blending mode ‘overlay’ and adjust the opacity, but if you don’t want to do that you can also add a stroke/shadow to your watermark/do all sorts.

tag #nctinc for your nct creations and #jenonet for your jeno creations!!

here’s my own mini tutorial (well not much of a tutorial ig more like a work process vid?): took about ten minutes including the time to search and download the video (but i didn’t record that part i trust yall know how to do that), vapoursynth, and exporting. i hope this helps somewhat! feel free to ask more questions whenever :)

keep in mind that giffing takes a lot of patience, energy, and experience—so don’t worry if it takes you a bit to figure things out or if your gifs don’t turn out the way you want them to the first time around. we all start at the same place and all run into problems. i know giffing can sound intimidating and seem like a lot of work, but i promise, once you get into a routine, giffing is going to happen in minutes—and you’ll get beautiful gifs. have fun! 😊

[rimmers-swimming-certificate]

Red Dwarf fanfic - Patience

The sleeping quarters on the new ship were bigger and a little more luxurious than the ones that Rimmer remembered. The last time he had been on Red Dwarf, or at least on Red Dwarf in this universe, it had been very different. This was an entirely new, upgraded model, rebuilt by nanobots for reasons that Rimmer still didn’t entirely understand, and from what he had seen of it so far, it was the kind of ship a second technician would have dreamed of being assigned to. Everything about it was better. Even the vending machines were more intelligent, better stocked, and probably much less prone to clogging.

In many ways — actually, probably in every way — it was better than the ship they had used to call home, but it was better in that ‘nice but not yet familiar’ way that a new car was better. It was going to take time to figure out what all the fancy new buttons did, and where to find the headlights and the windscreen wipers. It was going to take time before it felt completely comfortable. As someone who had spent years hopping between dimensions and encountering things and people that were familiar, yet subtly different from the ones that he knew, Rimmer was sure it was going to take time before it felt like home.

Lister didn’t seem to be having any such trouble. Of course, he had a head start on getting used to the place. To Rimmer’s relief, Lister, unlike the ship, hadn’t changed one bit. A little older, maybe, but otherwise identical in every way to the man that Rimmer remembered. He lounged slobbily on a sofa at the other side of the room, humming a tuneless tune under his breath as he casually flicked through the well-thumbed pages of a magazine aimed at women half his age and filled with celebrity gossip over three million years out of date.

All around him was a growing collection of junk. He had, predictably enough, already started to fill every available surface of the living area, and part of the floor, with things he had found around the ship. As though he sensed Rimmer watching him, Lister lowered the magazine and glanced over at him. “Hey,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. “You’re back in blue.”

Rimmer looked down at his clothing. It had been time. Now that the other Rimmer had left, and taken the Wildfire with him, it was official: he was himself again. It felt good; familiar, like putting on a comfortable pair of old shoes. Ace’s clothes had never felt like that. He nodded.

“What are you doing standing in the doorway?” Lister asked.

Rimmer took a few steps into the room, to allow the door to close behind him. “Just thinking I should get my stuff out of storage,” he said. He made a show of looking at the assorted junk. “While there’s still somewhere left to put it.”

Lister nodded. “You’re still planning on bunking with me then?” he asked.

Honestly, it had never even occurred to Rimmer not to. The ship certainly had enough quarters to spare; they didn’t need to be living in each other's pockets, but he just couldn’t imagine living any other way. For all he had used to complain about Lister's snoring, he had still occasionally had trouble drifting off to sleep on the Wildfire because it was too quiet. For years, when he had woken up in the middle of the night after a bad dream, or had some funny thought occur to him as he drifted off to sleep, he had instinctively tried to talk to Lister about it only to find himself alone.

He shrugged, attempting to give the impression that he didn’t mind one way or another. “Yeah, I’ll probably stick around here,” he said. A horrible thought occurred. He had just assumed he would be welcome, Lister had certainly seemed pleased to have him back on the ship, but what if he wanted his own space? “I mean… If that’s okay with you of course,” he added.

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Lister told him. “I’ll help you move your stuff out of storage in the morning.” He grinned widely. “It’s not the same around here without your swimming certificates and newspaper clippings brightening the place up.”

Rimmer breathed a silent sigh of relief. “He didn’t have swimming certificates then?” he asked. “The other me?” He tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice, but he heard it anyway. It had been a shock to return home to find another Rimmer, a living Rimmer, no less, in his place. Not only a shock, but confusing too. For a time, he had been convinced that the computer was wrong and he had landed in the wrong dimension.

“Yeah, he did,” Lister told him. “But he took them with him.”

Rimmer nodded. He hadn’t had the opportunity to do that. When he had left, only Lister had known the truth, the others had thought he had died. It would have given the game away if Ace, who had happened to be there at the time, had mysteriously decided to take all of Rimmer’s keepsakes with him when he had headed back out into the unknown.

“I still can’t believe you convinced him to go,” Lister added. “I mean, considering how much work it was to get you to take the plunge. And he was a version of you with no experience at all of parallel universes and no clue about half the smeg he might run into out there.” Lister shook his head in apparent amazement. “When I first met him I thought he was exactly the same as you; you before you died, I mean. He changed a bit while we were in prison, loosened up a bit, if you can believe it, but I figured maybe not having to worry about duties and exams and all that stuff was good for him. Now, I think maybe he was different all along. I mean, he must’ve been, right?”

“How should I know?” Rimmer snapped. Honestly, he hadn’t known him well enough to say. For some reason though, it made him feel better that there might be differences between them. “He never met the real Ace. Maybe not knowing what an insufferable git he was helped.” Not knowing what he might run into out there had probably been a factor too. Rimmer wondered whether he should feel guilty about that. He hadn’t lied exactly, but he had emphasised having his own ship and being a hero side of things over the dangers.

Lister shook his head. “I don’t get it, Rimmer. You were Ace. How can you still hate him?”

“Easily,” Rimmer said. “Sticking on a wig and doing a silly voice doesn’t change who you are, you know. I wasn’t Ace, I was an Ace, just like your other Rimmer is now.”

Lister shrugged, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

Rimmer cleared his throat and folded his arms nervously across his chest. “Are you going to miss him?”

“Ace?”

“The other me.” What he really wanted to ask was, ‘did you miss me?’, but he couldn’t ask that. He couldn't bear it if the answer was no.

Lister frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s only been a couple of days since he left,” he said. “And I’ve got you back… I mean we’ve got you back, so it’s not the same as when you left.” He shrugged. “But yeah, I probably will, a bit.”

Rimmer nodded. That was good. Someone should, and he knew that the others wouldn’t. He brushed a hand down his uniform tunic, then glanced around the room again. “Nice junk collection,” he said.

“It’s not junk,” Lister told him. “It’s salvage.”

“Salvage means things rescued from a shipwreck, Lister. This is junk you found while rooting through the belongings of your former crewmates.”

“Yeah well whatever it is, don’t worry I’ll make room for your stuff,” Lister promised. “You’re lucky it’s all still there, by the way. The others wanted to throw it out.”

A stab of irritation struck him at the thought of that. “Throw it out? My stuff? Why?”

“They thought you were dead, man.” Lister shrugged. “And I guess they’re not as sentimental as I am.”

Translation: they hated him, and they had wanted to get rid of any reminders of his existence. They had probably tried to eject it from an airlock the instant he had left the ship.

“We were still all living on Starbug at the time, don’t forget.” Lister added. “We didn’t have as much room and, well, most of it wasn’t stuff we had any use for.” Lister hesitated. “I think Cat might have been interested in Rachel, but don’t worry, I kept her safe for you.”

A muscle began to twitch just below his left eye at the thought of Cat and Rachel. Not that he had touched her since well before he had died, not even after he had got his hard light drive. Lister was right; Starbug was small, and he wouldn’t have been able to bear the embarrassment of someone walking in on them. He couldn’t imagine wanting to try it now, either. Rachel had been good to him, but it was over between them. Still, the thought of Cat touching her turned his stomach. “Thanks,” he said.

Lister nodded. “Maybe in return you can tell me a bit about what you got up to while you were off being a hero.”

Rimmer didn’t reply. He glanced around the room, looking for a way to change the subject. He strode over to a shelf filled with Lister’s things and picked up a packet of playing cards. The backs of the cards showed soft porn images of women, and he knew instantly that Lister had liberated them from Petersen’s quarters. He quickly checked the pack for anything disgusting, Finding it clean, he held it up to Lister. “Fancy a game?” he asked.

Lister looked at him suspiciously. “I’m going to get it out of you, Rimmer.”

“It’s not a secret,” Rimmer insisted. “I’ve just got back. Give me some time to be myself again before you make me talk about pretending to be him. Now, gin rummy?” he suggested. “Speed? Or how about snap?”

Lister shook his head, still looking suspicious. “Not with those cards. They’re useless. Every single one has a different picture on the back, so all you have to do is memorise which set of breasts belongs to each card. I’ll play later though, with a real pack. In fact, let's have a poker night tonight. All four of us. It’s been a while.”

Rimmer nodded. A quick glance at the deck confirmed that Lister was correct about the cards. He shuffled the assorted sets of breasts, sat down at the table and started to deal himself a game of patience.

“What’re you doing?” Lister asked.

Rimmer glanced over at him again. The magazine was discarded on the floor now, next to a dirty, curry-smeared plate and one — not a pair, just one — dirty sock. Lister was peering at him over the back of the sofa with apparent interest. “Patience,” Rimmer told him.

Lister got up from the sofa. He stepped around the magazine and old plate, and made his way over to the other side of the room, where he folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching as Rimmer continued to arrange the cards on the table.

Rimmer watched him out of the corner of his eye, as he turned over a card and started to play. Lister continued to stare down at the game as though it was the most interesting thing that had happened aboard the ship in months, and it was a little distracting. “Lister, what are you doing?” Rimmer asked, finally.

“Watching you,” Lister told him.

Rimmer put down the card he had in his hand, and turned to look at him. “Yes, I can see that. What I meant was, why are you watching me?”

Lister shrugged. “I just wanted to see what you were going to do.”

Rimmer turned over another card. He couldn’t use it, so he dropped it on the reject pile and picked up another. “I told you what I’m doing. I’m playing patience.”

“Oh!” Lister grinned and shook his head. “Right, that makes sense. I thought you were telling me to be patient. I thought you were going to do something interesting.”

Rimmer looked up at him incredulously. “The game is called patience, Lister. You know, solitaire? Did you switch brains with the Cat while I was away or something?”

“No, I just…” Lister gave him an embarrassed grin. “I just thought maybe you were going to do a card trick or something.”

Rimmer turned over another card and placed it on top of one already on the table. “Lister, the whole time we’ve known each other, have you ever once seen me show the slightest interest in performing card tricks?”

“Well, no.” Lister pulled out the chair at the opposite side of the table and sat down. He looked down at the cards. “But you’ve been away a while, haven’t you? I figured maybe you picked it up while you were off being Ace.”

Rimmer turned over another card, placed it on the table and made several more moves. “I didn’t,” he said.

“Well you can’t blame me for not knowing that,” Lister told him. “You’ve been back nearly a whole week now and you’ve barely said a single word about what you got up to out there.”

“And so you leapt to the obvious assumption that I’d spent my time learning how to do sleight of hand tricks?”

“Well, no. Not until I thought you were about to do one.”

Rimmer shook his head dismissively and turned over another card in his game. “I did a lot while I was away,” he said. “Far too much to tell you about in just a week. Dozens of heroic rescues, overthrew a couple of fascist dictatorships, organised an uprising or two.” He shrugged in what he hoped was a modest way. “Nothing special.”

Lister smirked.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just you did that hair flick thing again. It just looks a bit silly when you don’t have the wig on.”

Had he? He hadn’t noticed. He glared at Lister, just on the off-chance that he was messing with him. “No I didn’t,” he said.

“Rimmer, you did. You do it about five times a day. Maybe you should just start wearing the wig again, at least that way you’d have enough hair to have to actually flick it out of your eyes.” He shrugged. “Or you could grow yours out.”

Rimmer shook his head. “Lister, there’s a reason that Ace decided to wear a wig; my hair just doesn’t do that. Anyway, I passed the wig on to the other Rimmer.” Like passing a baton in an endless relay race around the assorted parallel universes, he had handed over the wig to the living version of himself that the nanobots had created in his own universe, and sent him on his way. “And like I was saying, I did loads while I was away, and I’ll tell you about it one day. I’ve just been too busy settling back in.”

“Right, absolutely, makes sense,” Lister told him. “Well, except for the part where you haven’t even got your stuff out of storage yet. Anyway, you’re not busy now.”

He gritted his teeth. Technically, he supposed Lister was right; he wasn’t busy. That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Not yet. One day, maybe. If it ever came up in conversation naturally, rather than when he was being grilled for information. And if it never did, well, maybe Lister would tire of asking after a few years. He pointed at the cards on the table. “I am busy.”

Lister looked decidedly unimpressed as he looked at the game. “Come on Rimmer, the only reason people play that is to kill time because they’re bored. And it’s not even a good way to kill time. Why don’t you watch a film or something, like a normal person?”

“I’m not ‘killing time’, Lister. I play because I enjoy it.”

Lister looked unconvinced. “Okay then, so how come I never saw you play it before?”

Rimmer turned over another card. “When did I have a chance before?” he asked. “Before I died I was always busy. When I wasn’t on duty, I was revising, or trying to convince you to pick up after yourself. I didn’t have a lot of time for sitting around playing games.”

“Yeah, okay.” Lister shrugged. “But I never saw you do it after the crew got wiped out either.”

Rimmer sighed in frustration and slammed another card onto the table. “Lister, why are you so interested in why I’m playing a game? I just wanted to.” God, Lister was infuriating. He could be a master irritant when he wanted to, skilled in the not so subtle art of being annoying. And what was worse, was that he revelled in it. Once he got an idea in his head, he would keep going until he got his way. Rimmer had missed him, more than he had ever realised he would, but he definitely hadn’t missed this. “Can’t you just smeg off and read your magazine, leave me to it?” he tried, knowing that Lister wouldn’t.

Lister didn’t smeg off. Instead, he tucked his chair a little further under the table, rested his chin in a hand and looked down at the cards on the table as though he were the one playing the game.

Rimmer watched him for a moment then sighed. “Fine. If you must know, the reason I didn’t play then, was because I was still soft light. Not being able to pick things up doesn’t exactly make it easy to play cards, you know. Just enlisting the skutters’ help to let me play poker was bad enough, and that doesn't take half the dexterity that this does.”

“Dexterity?” Lister shook his head dismissively. “I thought you said you weren’t doing card tricks. How much dexterity does it take to turn over a playing card and put it down in the right place?”

It took a lot more that Lister could ever realise, and a level that a skutter just didn’t possess. Not unless you were willing to spend about twenty minutes on every move. Rimmer shook his head. “Lister, until you know the frustration of spending hours coaching some idiot of a skutter to perform a simple task that should take two seconds, only to have to watch them screw it up over and over again, I’ll thank you to keep your mouth shut on the subject.”

Lister looked at him, and for a moment Rimmer thought that he was going to argue. Instead, he frowned, then reached for the pile of cards. He moved slowly, as though paying attention to every minuscule movement of his hand and arm as his fingers slid the card from the top of the pile and turned it over. “Okay, yeah,” he said, and handed the card to Rimmer. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s probably a bit like that fake arm Kryten gave me that one time,” he said. “Took me forever just to make the stupid thing pick up a smegging ball. Something like this? There’d have been no way.”

Rimmer looked up at him sharply. “What?”

“Well, until Kryten upped the sensitivity, but that wasn’t any good either, ‘cos then it had a mind of its own.”

Rimmer tried to make sense of what he was hearing, but he couldn’t. He looked at Lister, specifically at Lister’s arms; they both appeared normal. They were covered by the sleeves of his jacket, making it difficult to be sure, but as far as he could tell, they looked exactly the same as they had always done. He allowed his gaze to move to Lister’s hands, where he could see bare skin. They both looked fine too; completely normal. “Lister, what are you talking about?” he asked. “What fake arm?”

“Oh, right,” Lister said. “You weren’t here for that.” He shrugged like it was unimportant, and pointed to one of the cards already turned over on the table. “You can move that one,” he said. “To there.”

Rimmer ignored him, and instead continued to stare at Lister’s hands. They both looked real. They both moved like they were real. If one of them wasn’t, it was the best prosthetic he had ever seen. “Lister, are you trying to tell me that you have a prosthetic arm?” he asked.

“What?” Lister grinned as though that was the funniest thing he’d heard all year. “Of course I don’t.” He flexed the fingers of his right hand compulsively. “Rimmer, have you ever seen those things? Trust me, if I did, you’d have noticed by now. He reached for the card he had told Rimmer to move, and moved it himself.

“Lister, don’t do that!” Rimmer snapped. He snatched the card up and moved it back to where it had been before.”

“I was only helping!”

“Well don’t. This is a one man game; you’re not supposed to help. For all you know, I was saving that move for later.” He looked at the cards, desperately trying to find another move to make first; any other move, just to prove his point. Typically, there were none. He scowled at the cards as though they had done it on purpose, then grabbed the one Lister had moved, and moved it again. “So if you didn’t lose an arm, what were you doing with a prosthetic?” he asked.

Lister shrugged. “I never said I didn’t lose it. I just kinda…” he shrugged, “found it again. But technically I didn’t lose it actually. I knew where it was, it’s just that Kryten hacked it off with a laser scalpel and flushed it out the airlock.” He winced and flexed his fingers again. “Anyway, stop changing the subject.”

“Yes, because the subject of exactly how many times I’ve played a particular card game in the past is infinitely more fascinating than the story of how you lost and somehow found an arm. Come on, what happened?”

“Actually, the subject was what you got up to while you were Ace,” Lister corrected. “Talking about your stupid card game came later.”

“Lister, I want to know how you lost an arm,” Rimmer demanded.

Lister frowned thoughtfully. “Oh, do you?” he asked. “Okay, let’s trade. If I tell you this story, you’ve got to tell me one of yours. Deal?”

Rimmer sighed, the idea that this whole thing might have been a setup suddenly occurred to him, but he really did want to know. He folded his arms and glared at Lister admonishingly. “Okay, fine,” he agreed. “But it better be a good story.”

“Killer virus,” Lister told him. “Got snogged by a three million year old corpse, caught this thing called Epideme.” He shrugged. “Kochanski and Kryten got the idea that they could chase it into my arm, then cut it off.”

Rimmer blinked. “You got snogged by a what?” he frowned. “Wait a minute, that wouldn’t work. You can’t just chase a virus into one part of the body and lop it off, or else they’d have been able to cure everything that way.”

“Turns out you can,” Lister told him. “Or you could with this one, anyway. Except for a few bits of the virus escaped back into my body, so I ended up armless for nothing. In the end they actually had to kill me so Epideme left, then they brought me back to life.”

Rimmer blinked. “Right. So you died?”

“Well, I mean not really. Not like you did, anyway. It doesn’t count if it’s only for a minute or so.”

That was a lot to take in. “And getting the arm back?”

Lister shrugged. “Nanobots. You know that part already.”

“I knew they rebuilt the ship and the crew. You neglected to mention the part where they also rebuilt you.“

“Out of the whole thing, honestly that seemed like the least interesting part.”

Rimmer shook his head. “It’s a part of the story, it’s relevant. And how could you think I wouldn’t be interested in you agreeing to let Kryten cut off your arm to save you from a deadly space virus?”

“Honestly? It wasn’t exactly something I was eager to relive. I only brought it up now because I figured I’d be able to get a story out of you in return.”

“So you did trick me,” Rimmer said. “You lured me in with a hint of a story, knowing I’d want to know more, just so that you could wheedle information out of me in return. I knew it!”

Lister grinned. “Yeah.” The grin faded. “But having one arm sucked like you wouldn’t believe. I couldn’t play the guitar.”

Rimmer smirked. “Well in that case I’m surprised you found anybody willing to help you track down the nanobots. Personally, I’d have been completely willing to sacrifice your arm in order to silence your guitar.”

“Smeg off. You would have as well, wouldn’t you? It was my right arm too. Do you know how crap I am at everything with my left hand? I could hardly do anything for myself.”

Rimmer turned over another card in his game of patience. “You’d have learned. It was only one arm, so it’s not that bad, is it? I didn’t have any arms at all — any body at all — for years, and you didn’t hear me whinging about it.”

“Seriously?” Lister stared at him incredulously. “Rimmer, you used to whinge about it all the time.”

“I didn’t. Not all the time, anyway.” He thought back to the time after he had first been activated. “I mean, maybe I complained a little bit at first, but all things considered I think I handled the whole thing pretty well. Better than you would have done, anyway. And even if I had complained, I’d say that was a whinge-worthy problem. Losing one arm, not so much.”

“This is why I didn’t tell you about this before,” Lister told him. “I knew you’d find some way to trivialise it.”

“I’m not,” Rimmer assured him. “I’m sure the whole thing was very traumatic for you. How terrible it must have been, having to brush your teeth with your left hand.”

Lister shook his head. “Fine. Go on then, you owe me a story. And it better be a good one too.”

Rimmer mulled over his options. He had stories, of course he did. The issue wasn’t thinking of a story, it was thinking of a story that would paint him in the right light; one that Lister would be impressed by, but that didn’t make him sound too much like that insufferable git Ace. He needed something that would remind Lister why he, Rimmer, the Rimmer without a wig, was the superior Rimmer.

He couldn’t think of a single one.

“You’re right, you know,” he said, hoping to fill the time. “I didn’t play patience before. I picked it up while I was off being Ace.”

Lister nodded. “Yeah, I figured,” he said. “It couldn’t have been all daring missions and rescuing the damsel in distress, could it?”

“Sometimes it wasn’t a damsel, men needed rescuing too, you know. In fact, they needed rescuing more than the women because they have a tendency to do more stupid things and get themselves into trouble.”

Lister shrugged. “Fine, so it couldn’t be all rescuing the damsel or,” he hesitated, “…or damson in distress.”

“I don’t think that’s the right word.”

Lister waved a hand dismissively. “My point is, there had to have been some downtime in between. And it’s not like you had us lot around to talk to, so you would’ve needed something to do.”

“I kept myself busy enough.”

“Well yeah, but I bet because you’re, well, you, even though you probably could’ve spent the night in bed with whatever lucky sod you just saved, you’d’ve probably convinced yourself they didn’t actually like you or something, and decided to spend your nights alone in your ship. So you needed something to do, so you got yourself a pack of cards.”

Rimmer sighed. On the one hand, it was nice to be back around someone who understood him. On the other, sometimes it would be nice if Lister didn’t know him quite so perfectly. “I didn’t have to ‘get’ the cards, they were already there, left behind by a previous Ace.”

Lister shook his head. “That wasn’t really the point.”

“Fine. Well if you must know, Lister, I did have a few liaisons. I even had to turn down a couple of marriage proposals. But in-between all that, there was still a lot of time alone. There were times when I would jump into dimension after dimension and find them completely empty. I don’t know whether humans just never evolved there, or whether they wiped themselves out before I arrived, or if I was just in completely the wrong part of the universe. All I know is, there were times that I went for months without speaking to another person. So I had to find something to do.”

Lister nodded. He was quiet for a long moment, then folded his arms tightly and nodded. “Sounds lonely,” he said quietly.

It had been. Long stretches of loneliness and boredom interspersed with the occasional terrifying situation.

Lister was looking at him now with something approaching sympathy in his expression. Lister understood loneliness; a man who had surrounded himself with a large group of friends, who had been friends with everybody, who had thrived on and drawn energy from the social interactions that left Rimmer drained and anxious. A man who had found himself marooned in deep space, the last survivor of the human race.

“It was fine,” Rimmer assured him. It was only a partial lie, half of the time it really had been. Well, a bit less than half. More like a quarter. Or fifteen percent? He shook his head. “Okay yes, it was a bit lonely. But it’s your fault.”

“Mine? How’s it my fault? Because I convinced you to go?”

Actually, that was a good point too, but not the one Rimmer had been trying to make. He shook his head. “No. It’s your fault I couldn’t hack the solitude. Over the past however long it’s been, I must have got used to having you around.”

“So you’re mad at me because you missed me?”

Rimmer shook his head. “I‘m not mad at you, and I didn’t miss you, not specifically. I just missed not being alone; having someone to talk to.”

Lister grinned. “You did. You missed me,” he said.

“Fine. And what about you? Did you miss me?” He hadn’t meant to ask that, but now it was out there, he couldn’t take it back. He held his breath and waited for the reply.

Lister folded his arms. “Yeah, of course I did,” he admitted. He glanced away and dropped his voice to a mumbled whisper. “Even had a couple of dreams about you.”

Rimmer nodded in satisfaction. Lister hadn’t even been on his own. For some of that time, he had had a whole crew to keep him company, not to mention a version of Rimmer himself, and yet he still admitted to missing him. He smiled to himself, confident that he had come out the victor in this competition. “Wait,” he asked. “What kind of dreams?”

“Just dreams, not important.”

He decided to let it go for now. “So, your turn,” he said. “What else did I miss while I was off being a hero? Did Kryten hack off anybody else’s body parts?”

“One arm wasn’t enough for you?”

“Okay, maybe that’s enough dismemberment, but something else interesting must have happened while I was away.”

Lister frowned. “What, other than the entire crew, including you, coming back to life?”

“Other than that. I already know about that.”

“Well yeah, plenty happened,” Lister told him, “but you haven’t held up your side of the bargain yet, have you? A story about you sitting around in your ship playing cards on your own doesn’t exactly count, you know.”

“Of course it does. You never specified what the content of the story needed to be.”

“Suit yourself,” Lister told him, and turned over another of Rimmer’s cards. He placed it exactly where Rimmer would have put it, which allowed him to make five more moves and take two cards out of play. He moved to pick up another card.

“Fine,” Rimmer told him. “I’ll tell you one more story.”

Lister looked up.

“I rescued you once,” Rimmer told him. He hesitated. That wasn’t true, strictly speaking. “Well, no. Not you but another version of you. And it wasn’t much of a rescue either if I’m honest.”

“Great story, Rimmer. I’m on the edge of my seat!”

Rimmer scowled at him. “It was a couple of GELFs with a grudge, and they — the other crew — would have probably handled it fine if I hadn’t shown up, but I did, so I thought it was only right to lend a hand.” As he spoke, he heard himself slip unthinkingly into the Ace Rimmer accent he had perfected over the years. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I kinda like it.”

Rimmer rolled his eyes and continued in his own accent. “He was a lot like you, the other Lister. If I hadn’t known better — well, if I hadn’t had a ship’s computer that could tell me better — I’d have genuinely believed I was home. It turned out his Rimmer had already left to become Ace, years earlier. When I showed up, the other Lister thought his Rimmer had come back.”

Lister winced. “Did you tell him he hadn’t?”

“I didn’t want to,” Rimmer admitted. He looked away. “Telling him that, was basically the same as telling him that his Rimmer was gone.”

“Yeah,” Lister said. “If I was him, I don’t know how I’d have…” He folded his arms and stopped talking abruptly.

Rimmer nodded. “This thing is, it was a bit more delicate than that. They’d been…” he hesitated, “They were pretty close. Closer than you and I.”

Lister frowned. “Closer than us? Rimmer, the only way they could possibly have been closer than us is if they were…” His eyes widened as understanding dawned. Rimmer nodded, and slowly a smile spread across Lister’s face. “Oh, right,” he said. “Right.”

“It turned out they’d been together for quite some time before he went off to be a hero,” Rimmer said. He shook his head. “The idiot.”

“Hey!” said Lister. “You’re saying sleeping with me makes him an idiot?”

Rimmer shook his head. “No. Well, yes, obviously he must have been. But what I meant was why would a version of me who had someone that loved him, give it all up to go off and be Ace? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Lister shrugged. “You did it.”

Rimmer looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out exactly what Lister had meant by that.

Lister cleared his throat. “So, what did you think about that particular revelation?”

He considered the question. “Mostly, I thought that I really didn’t want to have to be the one to tell him his boyfriend had died. For a moment, I even thought about playing along, being his Rimmer for a day or two then telling him I had to go off and be a hero again.”

“You didn’t, did you?”

Rimmer shook his head. “Of course not.” He was still Ace at the time, and that would have been a cowardly move. Another time, another circumstance, maybe he would have done. “It wouldn’t have been fair to him.”

“Yeah,” Lister agreed. “Definitely not.”

Rimmer picked up another card, and rather than putting it down, he began to fidget with it, turning it over nervously in his hands. He cleared his throat. “I thought another thing too,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“I thought about how glad I was, that there was at least one universe out there where I’d been brave enough to accept who I was.”

Lister nodded, and Rimmer got the impression that he wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already known. “So how’d he take it?” he asked. “When you told him you weren’t his Rimmer?”

Rimmer continued to fidget with the playing card. “I think he already knew, really. I mean, I think he hoped I was his Rimmer, but he didn’t really believe it. He’d already accepted that he was gone. That’s how it works, isn’t it? As soon as you get into the ship and make your first jump that’s supposed to be it. It’s meant to be a one way trip, and he knew that.”

Lister nodded. “Meant to, anyway.”

“He asked me to stay,” Rimmer continued. “Not to replace his Rimmer or anything like that, just to make a home there. Stop leaping dimensions and just… just be me again. It was tempting, too.” In fact, he had stayed for a little while, but he had found that he needed to move on. “When I told him I needed to go, he’s the one that told me I should try to get home. I think he could tell my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

“And so you came back,” Lister said. He smiled warmly. “I’m glad. No offence to the other Lister, but if you were going to settle down somewhere, it had to be here.”

“It wasn’t quite as simple as just ‘coming back’,” Rimmer told him. “It was actually very difficult. You can’t safely jump between similar dimensions, you know. It involved multiple jumps, a fair amount of danger, and a lot of luck. Of course, if I’d known you’d gone and made yourself a brand new Rimmer, I might have just stayed where I was.” He could hear the jealousy in his voice, and he didn’t care

Lister shook his head. “Come on, you know that wasn’t planned. Anyway, he wasn’t you. I mean, he was you, but he wasn’t you you, was he?”

That was the kind of thing that Rimmer might have rolled his eyes at, once upon a time. Now, it made perfect sense. He had met a lot of people who both were, and were not, people he had known. It was a strange feeling, one that he had never quite got used to. “Still, I was surplus to requirements around here, wasn’t I?” He was fishing and he knew it. He didn’t care.

Lister seemed to know it too. It was obvious that he was playing along as he shook his head sympathetically. “Of course not!” He paused, then shrugged, “I mean, two of you would’ve been a bit too much to handle, but you’re always welcome here, Rimmer. Always.”

Satisfied, Rimmer nodded. “And I suppose it’s good that you replaced me,” he said. “Because then I could replace Ace. If there hadn’t been another me here, it would’ve meant the chair was broken.” He shrugged. “Not that that’s exactly a tragedy though. Does the universe really need some smug git in a wig flying around being heroic? Really?”

“I didn’t replace you,” Lister insisted. “And I think the universe probably does need an Ace. Just like it needs an endless ouroboros cycle of List…” he stopped, then smiled. “Okay, my turn,” he said. “While you were off being a smug git in a wig, I found out who my parents were.”

Rimmer stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And you’ll never guess who they are.”

Rimmer resisted the urge to groan. “It’s going to be something ridiculous, isn’t it?” he said. “Like you’re actually related to royalty or something.” He was never going to hear the end of it; Lister was going to be constantly lording it over him. “You’re the illegitimate son of some King or Queen, dumped in a pub by a jealous relative whose claim to the throne your birth put at risk.”

Lister grinned and shook his head. “Er, no. Not exactly,” he said.

Rimmer breathed a silent sigh of relief. The only thing worse than finding out something like that would be… oh smeg. “You’re my brother, aren’t you? Like in that reality we hallucinated when we encountered the despair squid.” Oh, that was all he needed, just when he was beginning to come to terms with the idea that he might like Lister. It was typical, and so in-keeping with his luck that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out sooner. “How the smeg did that happen?” He rested his head in his hands. “I didn’t even know my mum had been to Liverpool.”

Lister laughed and shook his head. “I have to give you this much, Rimmer, you’ve got a good imagination.”

“So we’re not brothers?”

“No, of course we’re not.”

Rimmer began to breathe a sigh of relief, then hesitated. “And not half brothers? Or cousins? Second cousins once removed?”

“We’re no relation at all. Well, at least as far as I know.”

Rimmer exhaled slowly. “Right. Good.”

“It’s even weirder than that, actually.” Lister paused, either for effect or to make sure Rimmer was listening, Rimmer wasn’t sure. “It turns out I’m my own dad.”

Rimmer frowned. That couldn’t be right. He looked at Lister, searching for any hint that this was some kind of a joke, but he couldn’t see any. Finally, he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But it’s true. Me and Krissie had a baby, and it was me. Then I…”

“Wait,” Rimmer interrupted. “You and Kochanski?” He tried to ignore the stab of jealousy that came with that particular revelation, and failed. “I thought you said you never got back together with her. You said she was too hung up on the other Lister. You said…”

“Hey.” Lister stopped his words with a gentle hand on his arm. “Relax. She was still too into the other Lister, and I can’t really blame her either. I mean, they were together a long time; as long as me and you. And over that time she’d moulded him into some kinda weird, opera-loving anti-Lister. I mean, I was never going to live up to that, and I didn’t want to either. All I had to do was make a… uh, a genetic donation, and she was planning on raising the baby with him.”

“Oh,” Rimmer said. “Well, good. Not that I care, of course.”

“Nah, ‘course you don’t,” Lister agreed. “Anyway, it’s probably for the best that she wasn’t into me; I was a bit too hung up on somebody else myself too, if I’m honest.”

Rimmer wondered who it could have been. Lister’s own Kochanski, he supposed. After all, the one that had ended up aboard Starbug with them had been a different Kochanski from a different dimension. If the years they had spent together had changed the other Lister to the point where he was almost unrecognisable. Maybe there had been differences between the two Kochanskis that Lister hadn’t been able to see past.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter,” Lister continued. “So when the baby was born, we raised him for a couple of months until he was about the same age I’d been when they found me, then I went back in time and left him under that pool table so that he could be found, grow up, get stranded three million years in the future, work this all out for himself and then do the same thing to his own kid." He paused, then frowned. “Who will be me as well.��

Rimmer pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly from side to side as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. Of all the nonsensical things that they had encountered during their time in space, this had to be one of the most improbable, for so many reasons. “Lister, before I dignify this with an answer, tell me, are you being serious?” he asked.

“Well, yeah. Of course I am. You don’t think I could just make up a story like that, do you?”

He probably could but it didn’t sound like something he would do. For all he had always pretended not to mind, Rimmer knew how much not knowing the truth about where he came from had bothered Lister. He also knew how much it had hurt him having to give up the twins; he wouldn’t joke about giving another child away.

“So, if you’re your own dad,” he said in an attempt to break the tension, “that makes Kochanski your mum, right? So is that why you never got together?”

“What?” Lister pulled a face. “No. Why would it be?”

“Well, because she’s your mum,” Rimmer repeated. “I mean, you’ve got to admit it would be a bit weird.”

Lister folded his arms. “It’s not like that though, is it? She’s the kid’s mum, not mine.” Even as he said it, he didn’t sound convinced.

“But the kid is you.”

“Yeah, but…” Lister shook his head.

“Technically, it sounds like she’s your grandmother too,” Rimmer added, with a smile to show that he was joking. He wasn’t, actually, but Lister didn’t need to know that. “And your great grandmother.”

Lister folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “Smeg off,” he said. “You’re just happy because you think you’ve got a chance with me now, like that other Rimmer did.”

Rimmer sat back in his seat. He genuinely hadn’t thought he was being that obvious. He looked at Lister, trying to decide whether he was joking, or whether he was feeling particularly empathic today. “No I’m not,” he lied.

“Oh,” said Lister. “Well that’s too bad.”

Rimmer blinked.

“So, did you ever figure out where the universes diverged?” Lister said.

It was such an abrupt change of subject that it took him a moment or two to realise that Lister was talking about the other him again. “More or less, yes. It was around the time I got my hard light drive. Remember that night we stayed up all night drinking and talking about things?”

Lister nodded. “I remember you talking for hours about different textures and temperatures, trying to make me understand why it was so great to be able to feel for the first time in years.” He smiled. “Must’ve been amazing.”

It had been. It still was, even if he sometimes took it for granted now. “Well, from what I can gather, that night played out a little differently in that universe, and ended up with the two of us… well, the two of them…”

“Gotcha.”

“What I couldn’t figure out is why that happened. There must have been something before that that changed things enough that we felt able to do that, but whatever it was, it must have been so small that the other Lister and I couldn’t figure it out.”

Lister shrugged. “Might be because there wasn’t anything,” he said. “Sometimes things just happen, you know. I bet I can guess exactly how the whole thing started out; Rimmer put his hand on Lister’s, to feel it I mean, and Lister grabbed hold of it, pulled him in closer and kissed him. Right?”

Rimmer blinked. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never asked for a play-by-play. Why?”

“Because that’s what happens, isn’t it? When realities split. You have a choice, you make it, and the other version of you makes the opposite choice.”

Rimmer nodded. “More or less.”

“So here’s the thing,” Lister told him. He picked up the pile of unplayed cards on the table and ran his fingernail down the side of the stack. “In this reality, when you touched my hand I was… well, I was kinda tempted to pull you closer and kiss you, but I chickened out.”

Rimmer stared at him, trying to process what he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because you were talking about all these different sensations you’d been missing out on, and how amazing it was, and I thought you might want to experience another one.”

“Not why did you want to, you gimboid. I meant why didn’t you?”

“Oh…” Lister hesitated. “Well, like I said, I chickened out. I thought you might not like it, or you’d turn me down. And maybe you would have. I mean, if anything that could happen did happen in one universe or another, there must also be a universe where I kissed you, but instead of whatever happened in the dimension you landed in, you freaked out over it and things got really weird between us. So I mean, maybe I dodged a bullet.”

Rimmer pursed his lips. He wanted to insist that wouldn’t have happened, and maybe he was right, but there was a good chance he wasn’t. After all, he already knew that theirs wasn’t the reality where they had ended up together. Not then anyway. He sighed. “You’re probably right.”

A shadow of disappointment fell over Lister’s face.

“No, I mean, it was different then,” Rimmer stammered. “It was a long time ago. Just because I might have reacted badly then, doesn't mean I’d do the same thing now, does it?”

“I dunno.” Lister looked at him like he was trying to figure out whether Rimmer was serious, and if so, how serious. “Does it?”

Lister put down the playing cards and rested his hand on the surface of the table. Not breaking eye contact with Lister, Rimmer slowly slid his hand across until the tips of their fingers touched. He kept going, until his hand rested on top of Lister’s. As he moved, he tried to remember how he had felt that night, when everything had been so new and every touch had felt amplified a hundredfold. He concentrated on the warmth of Lister’s skin in comparison to the cool air of their quarters, the difference between the texture of the soft back of his hand and the rougher skin of his knuckles.

He had been so afraid that night, convinced that the hard light drive wouldn’t last; that his bad luck would kick in and he would revert to his usual, soft light form, deprived once again of the ability to feel. He remembered thinking how much worse it was going to be, having experienced touch only to have it snatched away again, and he remembered how desperate he had been to cram as much sensation as he could into every second, before it was too late.

He had become complacent, he realised, as he pressed the tips of his fingers a little harder into the back of Lister’s hand, feeling the bones and tendons beneath the skin. He had become too used to it; started to take it for granted. He closed his eyes and savoured the sensation in a way that he hadn’t done in years.

After a moment, Lister placed his own free hand on top of Rimmer’s and simply held him for a while, Rimmer’s hand encased in Listers, feeling the warmth of his skin. Then, gently, he turned it over. When his hand lay palm upward on top of Lister’s, Lister began to trace the lines of Rimmer’s palm with his fingertips, then, when that was done, began to move his finger in slow, lazy circles. It felt good. It felt incredible, but it wasn’t what he had been expecting. He opened his eyes and looked at Lister, questioning.

“What? I wasn’t just going to grab you and go for a snog,” Lister told him. “I’m a bit more subtle than that. I mean, not much, but a bit.”

Slowly, he pulled Rimmer’s hand a little closer to him, lifting it from the table and toward his lips, then gently kissed his fingertips one at a time. Finally, he moved his grip further up Rimmer’s arm. Holding tightly at his arm at the elbow, he tugged gently. His grip was firm enough that he could lead Rimmer closer to him, but not so firm that Rimmer wouldn’t be able to back off if he wanted to. Rimmer didn’t want to.

Lister pulled him closer until he leaned far enough across the table that Lister could easily close the distance between them, then he touched his lips to Rimmer’s. Their lips brushed gently together, barely a kiss, barely even a touch. It left him wanting more. Rimmer leaned closer, trying to get more sensation, but Lister moved further back. He smiled and shook his head. “Wait for it,” he whispered. Rimmer felt his breath on his skin.

He moved a little closer, a fraction of a centimetre, and allowed Rimmer to feel the warmth of his skin and the softness of his lips as they pressed, slightly open, against his own. Lister’s hand snaked slowly around the back of his head, his fingers parting Rimmer’s curls as they worked their way through his hair. At the same time, Lister’s tongue teased Rimmer’s and Rimmer felt himself respond in kind.

For a moment, everything around then faded away. The living quarters, the ship, the years that they had been apart, everything but the moment. Rimmer was lost in sensation; drowning in it.

And then, it was over. All concept of time had abandoned him, and Rimmer had no idea how long it had been before they finally came up for air. At some point, he didn’t know when, he had closed his eyes. He opened them now to find himself staring directly into Lister’s eyes. Lister smiled nervously, and shrugged. “So, it’d have probably been a bit like that,” he said. “If I hadn’t chickened out that night, I mean.”

“Right,” Rimer said. He nodded, and sat back down again, unsure what he was supposed to do or say now. His game of patience was ruined, the cards scattered over the tabletop and on the floor. He tugged on the bottom of his uniform tunic, straightening any creases that might have appeared, and quickly ran his fingers through his hair in a futile effort to undo any damage Lister might have done to it. “Right,” he said again.

He could feel his own simulated heartbeat pounding in the hard light projection of his chest. His skin tingled everywhere that Lister had touched him, and he wanted more.

“Right,” he said, for a third time. He realised that he really should think of something else to say, but for some reason he was drawing a complete blank. He opened his mouth to speak again, and this time, closed it again.

“Well?” Lister asked. Rimmer could hear the apprehension in his voice, and see it on his face.

Rimmer took a slow, deep breath and tried to force his mind to regain the ability to speak. “That was…” he began, then faltered. He didn’t have the words to describe what that had been. Anything he might say would pale into insignificance in comparison to the real thing. He took another breath, slowly in and out. He needed to say something or it was going to start to get weird. “Lister, if you’d done that the day after I first got my hard light drive, you’d probably have shorted the damn thing out,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” Lister asked, appearing worried now.

Rimmer reached for him again. He grabbed clumsily at his hand before intertwining his fingers with Lister’s. “It means it was incredible,” he said. “But it would have been too much for me then. When I hadn’t been able to feel for all those years, suddenly experiencing something like that… it would have been overwhelming.” It was almost still too much for him now, but at the same time it hadn’t been enough. He wanted more. If Lister could do that with a few gentle touches, Rimmer wanted to know what else he could do.

“I mean, I’ve had a bit of time to think about it, so maybe it wouldn’t have been exactly like that,” Lister told him.

“So you’ve been thinking about it?”

“No.” Lister said, far too quickly. Then he shrugged and glanced away. “Well, you know, just now and then. Not all the time or anything like that. Just when I had nothing to do and my mind wandered.”

In other words, he had been daydreaming about it. About him. Of all the things Lister had told him about the things he had missed while he had been away, the deadly virus, the resurrection of the crew, finding out that Lister was his own father, somehow the revelation that Dave Lister had been daydreaming about him was the most unexpected. And the most wonderful.

“So,” Lister said. “It might have been too much for you then, but what about now? You’ve had a couple of years to get used to touch again, and I bet you had more than a couple of kisses while you were off being a hero, so…” his question tailed off, leaving it hanging in the air between them.

Rimmer thought about it. “It was still overwhelming,” he said honestly. “But I think…” he hesitated. “I think being overwhelmed now and then might be a good thing.”

“Want to try again?”

Rimmer nodded.

Lister got to his feet and pressed the manual lock on the door to their quarters. He offered a hand to Rimmer as he walked back past him, and when Rimmer accepted, steered him in the direction of the sofa. “Might be a bit comfier over here than leaning across a table,” he said.

He sat down and Rimmer sat next to him. He glanced down at his hands awkwardly, not sure what he was supposed to do.

“Hey, by the way,” Lister said as he edged himself a little closer and snaked a hand around Rimmer’s shoulders and then up into his hair again. “Don’t you think this gets you out of telling me stories. I still want to know everything you got up to when you were out there being Ace.”

Thank you to @coney-island-blitz for the beta on this!

[tardis-ghost-blog]

The Master’s Game (11 - Ghosts of yesterday)

<< Prev

Roka suddenly sprang up, approaching the Master.

"What...?" he asked confused.

But she was actually more interested in what was behind him. There stood a small building on top of that metal platform and she had to stretch to see up to it. Probably a control room. And in there...

"Look, something's blinking in there." She pointed up.

"Weren't you feeling sick a moment ago...?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, still do a bit... but..." There had to be a way to get up there.

"You were in my mind..."

"Uhm... okay, okay... sorry about that..." She looked down.

"That's not the point," he answered, sounding perplex. "Aren't you... I don't know... traumatized or something?"

"Huh?" Roka looked up again. "Should I?" She jumped up a bit, but was unable to grab the platform. "Ah, dammit! Could you give me a leg-up?"

The Master stared at her for a few seconds, then shook his head and helped her, before climbing up himself, following a few steps behind. "Whatever it is, it's mine."

"Hey, I found it!" The door was blocked, but the window was big enough to climb inside. It was horribly dark in there though, making her hesitate for a moment.

"What's wrong?" came an amused question. "Afraid there could be a monster inside?"

Roka froze and turned around. Until now she had completely forgotten that he has had time enough to scramble around in her own memories. "Please, don't tell me, you saw that!" she groaned.

But his overly amused grin was answer enough. "You, hiding under your bed, because you thought there was a monster in the closet?"

Crossing her arms she turned around, staring into the darkness. "To my defense... I was five!" And mumbling she added, "And there really was one inside..." She grabbed the window frame and swung herself into the dark room. "It was striped and had some nasty teeth." There it was.

"Whatever you find in there... it's still mine. Just so you know."

"Come on, let me have some loot."

"Loot?" What do you think...."

"Ohhhhhh!" Roka burst out and laughed. "Cool!" She came back to the window, holding up a gray blocky device. "Oh my... I haven't seen one in ages. The light must have reflected on the screen. If only I had batteries..."

"Err... I have. Come out there." The Master stared curiously at her and at the device in her hands, while she climbed out of the window again. Then he pulled her towards him, casually opening the jacket she was still wearing and reaching inside one of its inner pockets, suddenly holding various kinds of batteries in his hand. "Time Lord pockets." He winked. "What do you need them for?"

"Ah... just feeling a bit nostalgic." She giggled, took the ones she needed and booted up the Game Boy. It was the earliest model. "Aaaaaw... too bad. Can't see it clearly enough. Stupid eyes..."

The Master took it out of her hands and examined it. "What a primitive thing... Is that a game?"

Roka nodded. "Don't think you would like it much though. Those were tough back then."

"Pfff... I can beat it!" He frantically pressed the buttons, tongue between his teeth. "Ha! That's not too hard."

"Sure... not in the first few levels." She giggled.

Then suddenly a grumble resounded. The Master looked up, then to Roka... and grinned.

"Hey, I haven't eaten something since morning!" she defended herself. "I wonder if there is some food down here..."

The Master grabbed the jacket once more and Roka gave him a mean look that went completely ignored. He reached inside one of the other pockets, pulling out some bags of beef jerky, but kept them all, ripped one open and chewed on a slice while devoting his attention back to the game. Roka stared at him.

"Want some?" he asked, grinning again. "Beg for it."

"Pah... keep it." But another growl resounded from her stomach. The Master walked past her with a chuckle and put one of the bags into her hands, before sitting down on the metal floor, feet dangling from the platform, his attention still occupied by the game. Roka moved away a bit further and sat down against a metal post, hastily starting to eat before he could change his mind.

"Why do you even carry that around?" she asked amused.

"You never know. Saved my life once." But he didn't say more. He never talked about anything from his life or his past. 

A few minutes went by. Roka was unsure if she should ask or not, but in the end she couldn't hold back her curiosity. "What else have you seen in my head?"

At first it seemed as if the Master just ignored her question. He lay down on his back, holding the Game Boy up, so his flashlight could illuminate the screen.

"Why did you sleep in the attic?" he asked suddenly.

"None of your business."

The Master laughed. "How about... you answer all my questions and I tell you, what I've seen?"

Roka grumbled something and spent some time chewing on the beef jerky, before finally answering.

"A ghost has to haunt a proper place, doesn't it? What else...?"

"That's no answer." His voice sounded very amused. He obviously enjoyed toying with her like that.

She sighed. "Fine... it's boring though, just so you know." She stuck out her tongue, but he was too occupied with the game to even notice. "When my younger brother was born my parents gave him my room. Cause... they couldn't remember it already belonged to someone." Thinking back to those days made her smile though. It actually had been nice up there, although a bit creepy sometimes. "Hm... for the first eight years or so I really believed I was a ghost. It seemed fitting to use the attic."

"See? That's an answer." He grinned.

"What does it even bother you?" she asked annoyed. "Think you can use that against me somehow? Good luck."

"Heh, have heard that phrase often enough to know it's not true. And yes, I do. The fun part about it... you're too curious to stop asking, right?"

Roka crossed her arms and stayed silent for a while. But he was right. There was no way she could resist learning about what he had seen. "Fine... ask your dumb questions," she grumbled.

"Academy? University? How do humans call that?" he promptly asked. "There were mostly impressions of lecture halls."

"Hmmm." This really wasn't a thing he could use against her in any way. "No one ever cared if I attended school or not... So I skipped most of it and snuck into the nearby university. Didn't understand much the first few years and had to learned the rest on my own. Bless the local library..." She chuckled. "It was fun though. I learned some Quantum physics, normal physics, some biology... Everything regarding Chemistry is awful. But the computer science classes were nice. I also tried psychology... but that was boring."

"Nah, it's useful. If you know about that you can let your enemies destroy themselves," he said happily.

"That... wasn't why I went there," she protested. "Not everyone wants to use everything for mere destruction."

A chuckle came from the Master. "You think I'm such a bad person, right? Because I do whatever I want, just because I can." And when she didn't react to that he continued, "But you're not much better. I just wonder... why did you stop?"

Slowly she looked up and towards him. "With what?"

"With strangling the life out of him."

Roka froze.

"Those small children hands of yours... around that much much tinier neck." He carefully and slowly put his words together, sounding as if enjoying every single one of them. "Slowly squeezing the breath out of your brother's small lungs. Because for him they completely forgot about you. That day they brought him home you became a ghost in your own house for good. And you wanted to make him suffer fo..."

"Shut up!" Roka shouted, shivering. "Just... stop it."

But all she got was a very mean and satisfied laugh. "He was just a few weeks old... what a thing to do. And that only for your own good."

"I... didn't do it!"

"Coward. No one would have ever caught you."

"No..." She took a few slow, deep breaths before continuing. "It wasn't his fault. And yes, no one would have ever known who... " She shook her head and lay it on her knees, being silent for a while. "Seen anything else?" Suddenly she felt tired. Or rather... this tiredness had spread inside her since she had sat down. But it got stronger the longer she didn't move.

"Mhm... just one thing. Doesn't make much sense to me though." The Master was still lying on his back with the Game Boy in his hands. "A view from atop some cliffs, looking over the sea as if waiting for something. Was quite the strong image. Important."

"Oh," made Roka, sinking down at the post, putting an arm behind her head and staring up into the darkness.

"So? What were you waiting for?"

The tiredness almost overwhelmed her. "Doubt," she mumbled. "Fear..."

"Huh?"

"That was the day I met the Doctor. The day... Seems you can't see that deep after all."

"With more time... Still, what was that about?"

She laughed tiredly. "I won't tell you."

And surprisingly he didn't ask anymore. Roka stayed silent herself, remembering that day, while the sounds of moaning metal and pushed buttons got fainter. Images popped into her mind, flashes of memories she had wanted to forget. And those other images that weren't her own. For a while she tried to bring them back, to look at them more closely. There had been so much darkness, but even more... she looked at the Master. What could turn a man into something like him? One minute a merciless murderer, the other innocently enjoying a simple thing like that game. One moment happily laughing, the next raging in chaos. And such a deep burning sadness... more pain than a human heart could ever endure... and that in just a single fracture of his mind.

The thought slipped away, as did the sounds. Everything just slowly drowned in that strange tiredness.

Roka stood on top of the cliffs. Finally she had reached the place she had seen from below. Such a nice view over the sea. So high above the waves. Without haste she took off the backpack, leaning it against a tree. Then, slowly, she stepped out onto the natural plateau. There was more than enough space to walk, but still she spread her arms to keep the balance until reaching the end.

Carefully she sat down there, letting her feet dangle above the gaping depths below. And waited. Waited for the fear that used to keep her moving. For some doubt about what she was about to do. But she hadn't felt much since the day she had lost her... the day she had... It seemed like hours passed, but neither of those feelings appeared inside her. Her eyes wandered to her hands, staring at them for a while. It felt wrong that they looked so clean now, when only...

It had gotten darker. The sun set above the sea, leaving a trace of burning fire on the waves. Roka stood up and stretched. There was no point in waiting any longer. Everything was so calm. So cold. She looked down once more, moving her foot...

A soft breeze came up, making her freeze in place. The wind... no it wasn't wind, it was a sensation as of fingers that carefully ran through her hair, gently playing with them. She stood still, let it happen, while the scene slowly faded and she returned to the waking world, not opening her eyes though, and only when she finally moved slightly after some time the sensation vanished abruptly.

For another while she lay still before noticing that the ground was hard and uncomfortable. Only her head leaned against something warm and she didn't want to move. The memory of where sleep had taken her away returned slowly and she opened her eyes to see nothing else but the red cloth of a shirt in front of her. Where did that come from?

Then a sudden realization hit her and within a second she was wide awake and sat up, crawling backwards at least a few meters, away from the Master on whose site she had apparently curled up during her sleep. And who was now chuckling at her sudden reaction, his eyes and hands still glued to that Game Boy.

Roka put her arms around her knees and looked away. "... you could have woken me."

"Too busy," was the only answer she got. But not even a minute later he suddenly shot into a sitting position, a wide grin on his face. "Ha! See? I beat it!" And he held the Game Boy in front of her face.

Roka could barely see something blurry when the screen suddenly faded. Now it was on her to smirk. "It went off."

The Master took it back and stared at it. "Come on! I just beat it! Stupid batteries!" He shot up and threw the thing as hard as he could into the darkness where it crashed into a pile of stuff somewhere in the distance.

"Welcome to the true horrors of my childhood." Roka had to laugh, but then something came to her mind. "Wait... that were either the worst batteries ever, or... how long have I slept?" Confused she blinked a few times. For her it hadn't felt like more than a few minutes.

"No idea..." He sounded disappointed and still stared towards where he had thrown the game. "Some hours." Shrugging his shoulders he turned around, staring down to her. "That stupid action of yours completely drained your energy." He sighed. "I can't even erase it... not without damaging your own memory at least."

"Guess it won't kill me." Roka shrugged. "Don't worry, I haven't seen anything that would make any sense to me."

"Doesn't matter..." He tilted his head and put a finger on his chin. "I just wonder if that will affect your mind. Although for now it doesn't seem so..." For a moment he observed her like a particularly interesting test subject. "Whatever... let's get that stuff back upstairs."