#finally android got the update

[solar-wing]

⚣ Captor & Captive 🦍

Check out Parts One💉 & Two🔥!

⚣🦍 A/N → The final installment! Fair warning. For those who read the original version, this one is going to be completely different. With my updating and revising the previous parts, this is the ending I originally pictured but decided to not go with at first so I hope you all enjoy it. As mentioned in the last part, the full NSFW version will be posted to Patreon. WARNINGS: MALE INTERSEX READER. Canon-Typical Violence. Bondage & Gagging. Manhandling/Rough Treatment. Emotional Feelings. Some Comfort&Fluff Vibes, etc! All NSFW warnings will be on the full version.

⚣🦍 Summary → The moment has arrived. Conner's finally got you where he wants you and is ready to tear you apart from the inside (literally). However, a timely arrival from your friends could offer itself as a last chance to escape his grasp before he is able to claim his prize. Are your teammates up to the challenge though with the Kryptonian's increased strength and full powers?

⚣🦍 Words → 10.2K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ Full Version 🦍

⚣ ENJOY 🦍

Today was really not your day.

How you ended up in this situation? No one knows, but what or who could you have possibly angered to have something like this happen to you? No punishment in the world you imagined could be as bad as that time you got in trouble for acting out in school and they called your dad.

He could be a frightening man when he wanted to be.

But nope, this outweighed that by so much. And the day started out normal as usual.

Well, as normal as possible for a young superhero with pyrokinesis who was part of an elite team of other young superheroes and vigilantes.

Usual shit, you know?

You woke up, got out of bed, and ate breakfast with your dad before running (flying) off to your university. Classes were boring, you and your buddies acted like goofy idiots all day, and you burned a few kids on the ass for being assholes to other students. 

At the end of the school day, you made up an excuse of why you couldn’t hang out with your friends before rushing off to the abandoned photo booth/zeta gateway in an alleyway of your city to meet up with your team. The second you got there, Batman called you all into the mission room to give details of Professor Ivo’s newest schemes before sending you all off in the bioship to discover what he was up to.

Arriving at the abandoned warehouse where Ivo was sighted, it wasn’t long before things had gone from calm to chaotic. The dusty and dirty building was filled with a bunch of brand new boxes that contained an army of laughing MONQI robots, Ivo’s annoying little robotic henchmen.

It was a trap, one you realized a little too late when you got nabbed by a couple of the laughing androids. Superboy came to your rescue only for you to realize the set-up was for him when he got injected with a purple serum. After you got your bearings, you managed to trap Ivo and take out the last androids, but Conner was out clean, and you had no idea what they had done to him. 

Red Tornado was able to deduce what the mysterious liquid was when Conner woke up after you all returned to Mount Justice and he began acting very aggressive and animalistic towards you. Let’s just say your scent was ‘desirable’ to him, and he was very keen on keeping it and you to him as long as possible along with other things. Details aren’t needed, but from many of his actions, the wind-controlling android figured the Kryptonian was injected with a hormone-boosting solution.

Its intended use was for him to turn into an angry, instinct-driven savage and kill you and your friends. Thankfully, you knocked the vial out of him before it could be fully administered, but his instincts were still amplified. Only instead of a murderous beast, he became the superhero version of a horny and aggressive brute dead set on fucking you stupid.

Thankfully, your friends and mentors intervened and managed to get you away from ‘Caveman Conner,’ as you dubbed this new persona. However, he did not make it easy for them at all as apparently, that serum made him extremely possessive as well, leading to him holding you captive on his shoulder like a potato sack while fighting your friends and mentors like they were world-class villains for attempting to get you away from him. 

Whether that was a Conner trait before the injection or one that was created after was something you didn’t think about though, considering he acted nothing like this when he was with M’Gann.

This entire ordeal led you to discover Batman’s apparent insurance policy for the Kryptonian, in case he or Superman were to ever go rogue. It made you wonder if the superhero had backup plans like that for all the other members of the league, your meta and magical teammates, or even you.

As far as you knew, there wasn’t anything that could counter your powers as long as you weren’t extremely cold. And it wasn’t like there was a member in the Justice League who shared similar abilities to you that Batman could test something out on. But, of course, as cruel fate would have it, the Dark Knight did indeed have an insurance policy for you which Conner had discovered and taken advantage of after shutting off the electricity and luring you to the garage hangar when you and he were alone after everyone had left out.

With the power and communications off in the Cave, your powers nullified and the dark-haired boy’s own amped up since he apparently unlocked his full Kryptonian abilities due to the effects of the serum, you were trapped inside, defenseless, and at his mercy.

Not only had he forced you back into the Cave after you almost escaped, but he smashed the panel that controlled the garage hangar door rendering it completely useless before proceeding to handcuff and gag you while giving a pre-show of his intended plans.

Now, you watched in anxious anticipation as the Kryptonian carried you down to the hall to wherever with plans to ruin your body for his own carnal pleasure.

Yep, normal shit.

Okay, you knew where you went wrong now; you got out of bed.

The tight pressure and soreness in your abdomen had become like a throbbing sensation with every step Conner took that would slightly cause a repeating push against your waist from your position on his shoulder. You did your best to keep your body upright to avoid the very familiar feeling of blood rushing to your head and swimming around in your ears, but it seemed Superboy was taking his good ole time and your upper body strength was getting weaker and weaker.

You also tried to keep your mind off the ache and tingles running up and down your arms as they rested against your back with the metal of the cuffs weighing them down. The Kryptonian chuckles at your futile efforts to escape his hold, with your weak squirming and struggling as he continued fondling the soft flesh between your legs with the same hand holding your thighs against his chest.

He loved the sounds of your muffled whines and cries, feeling like the most powerful person in the world as you were virtually helpless and at his mercy. You would not enjoy the boost to his ego that was guaranteed to happen, especially after his little preview of your night in the garage hangar which you prayed to whatever deity watching that the cameras throughout the base were powered down to and didn’t catch any of that on tape.

The last thing you needed was your friends reviewing the footage and seeing you get violently fingered against the wall and splashing a mess all over the floor.

Speaking of which…

WHERE THE HELL WERE THEY?

Kal, M’Gann, and Zatanna had left on a walk around Happy Harbor almost 20 minutes before you decided to pack your things and head out. Your fight with Conner, including his little pleasurable fun with you had to also have been at least 20 minutes itself. So, if you were doing the math right, it’d been almost a little over an hour since they had left. What, did they decide to make a stop in Gotham too? 

What the hell were they doing and why weren’t they back yet?!

Who were you even kidding though? Conner virtually made sure there was no way to get back inside the base without him knowing about it. And of course, if they did manage to make it inside, he’d be alerted well in advance and have time to do whatever with you before going to deal with him. 

Of course, you could fight or melt your way out, but with this stupid cooling bracelet on your arm, that wasn’t happening either. You were trapped inside Mount Justice and the only way you were leaving was if the Kryptonian allowed you to.

Why was that low-key kind of hot though?

Despite how embarrassing this whole ordeal felt, you couldn’t deny how erotic all of this was. If it wasn’t for the emotional mess this would eventually lead to, you would have played the role of the innocent and helpless virgin, ahem, victim from the beginning, no questions asked.

His possessive attitude, treating you like the most valuable piece of treasure in the world and not wanting anyone else to have it. The aggression and dominance in how he handled not just those who dared try and take you from him, but how he dealt with you and your ‘bratty’ behavior.

What’s that purring sound?

Suddenly, Conner came to a stop. You tried your best to turn and see where you were before everything moved in a fast blur as the dark-haired boy turned to look at the two companions that were following behind.

“Stay.” He commanded in a gruff tone.

Wolf nodded at your captor, before planting himself right next to the door you were facing, Sphere going to the other side of it. The Kryptonian entered the room shortly after.

It was dimly lit by the red emergency lights of the Cave, and as the door shut behind you two, it became even harder to tell where you were. However, when you saw a few piles of clothes, some workout equipment, and a bin of tools in different areas, you quickly found the answer: Conner’s bedroom.

Well, at least he was considerate in choosing a more private place this time to have his way with you.

A part of you was excited at the thought of getting to have sex with your crush. But, the other side where logic and rationality were still speaking kept you apprehensive. When all was said and done and Conner (hopefully) came back to his senses, where would you and him stand?

You didn’t want to risk losing your friendship with the Kryptonian if it turned out he didn’t harbor any romantic feelings for you and this was some sort of anomaly. How could you both even work on the same team together if there was an awkward air between the two of you?

He walked across the room before you felt yourself being nudged up, one of his arms coming up to your back as he gently lifted you off his shoulder and deposited you onto his bed, a slightly relieved feeling running through you from the release of pressure on your abdomen. It was a surprising change of pace from the rough antics you were used to.

Conner brought his face directly above yours, staring into your own pupils with an expression that made you feel as if you were in trouble, which considering the previous events, you probably were.

What you didn’t expect was for his hand to rub down the side of your face in a soft caress, his calloused fingers somehow feeling soft to the touch. His eyes slowly traveled across your face, seemingly taking in every detail they could while you definitely did not snuggle your face into his hand.

You know what, you could have this moment. Just for a little bit.

Your soft whimpers were the only sound that was heard as the Kryptonian stared at your shiny, wet eyes before he leaned back up while his hands moved down to the front of his pants.

This was it.

The moment you fought so hard to avoid had finally come. You couldn’t deny the many parts of you that felt excited, the anticipation at knowing you were about to get something you’ve wanted for so long. Well, a part of something at least.

You could recall times when Conner and M’Gann were still dating and you’d feel jealous at the sight of her lips upon his. The Martian getting to touch and caress the Kryptonian in ways you thought you would never be able to. It was a bittersweet thought.

In the end, you did get to have something she may have never had (at least to your knowledge), but at what cost? When all was said and done, and the serum was fully out of Conner’s system, who said he would still see you the way he does now?

He could end up resenting you for tempting him with your desirable scent. Of course, that would in no way be your fault, but it was still a possibility. 

Just as much as it was possible that he actually may feel some sort of feelings for you. It would explain why he was attracted to you out of everyone else, especially M’Gann, and why he’d act so aggressively when anyone else would try to take you away from him.

It was a nice thought, but in your mind, it was highly unlikely.

Just as he was about to unzip his pants, the sound of mechanical whirring and things powering on hit your eardrums. Your sight was blinded for a quick moment by the sudden return of the ceiling lights, illuminating the room where you could spot more details and items you couldn’t before.

‘Someone turned the power back on.”

It would seem Conner had the same realization given the enraged look on his face as he looked around the room. He hopped off the bed, you watching his tensed muscular back as he marched to the door before yanking it open and leaning out. He stood there for a few seconds before turning around, the look in his eyes even more irate as he stomped his way back over to the bed which could mean a lot of things, but more than likely one.

Your friends had returned.

The realization brought immediate relief to your body, but you didn’t have much time to celebrate as the Kryptonian lifted you into his arms in a bridal hold. You fought back as hard as you could with a renewed fight and energy.

Your goal wasn’t necessarily to escape this time (though it was still your end objective), but more so to create as much noise and commotion as possible to alert your friends to your location. And though he’d probably never admit it, the Kryptonian had a much harder time holding you still as he walked you over to his closet which was surprisingly tidy, unlike the rest of his room.

He had to keep your legs still with you kicking wildly while placing you gently on the ground in the closet. When you were fully inside, he gave you a stern look. His way of telling you to be quiet or else.

You had no plans to adhere to that warning. The second he closed the door, you swung your body around as best as you could and started kicking your legs against the door only to almost get singed by the red blast of the Kryptonian’s heat vision.

He was searing the door shut like he did with the garage hangar door to keep you trapped inside, and more importantly, keep anyone but him out.

You’d almost forgotten about his upgrade in power with the serum unlocking his full Kryptonian abilities. Now, not only did he have super strength and invisibility, but he could fly, had full x-ray and heat vision, and inhuman speed.

Your friends had no idea what they were about to walk into. Even though you held your own against Conner for the most part, it was easier to try to escape than fight him head-on, and that was when he just had his normal abilities. It’d be almost suicide to try and fight him if he was fully equipped, which he was in more ways than one…

Hey! No dirty thoughts!

You could hear him zapping his bedroom door closed, creating two fortified barriers in the event someone managed to figure out where you were. Even if you kept kicking and knocking yourself against the wall, all you’d do is manage to hurt yourself. 

The only one who’d be able to hear you was Conner with his super-hearing which you’d bet money was enhanced as well from the serum.

Trapped once again and left in darkness, the only hope you now had was that your friends could subdue Superboy long enough for them to find and free you. Potentially, with all four of you, there could be a good chance of taking him down or if need be, calling Batman to find out where his supply of Kryptonite was.

‘C’mon guys, don’t fail me now…”

“Do I even want to know what that mess on the floor is?” Zatanna asked, pointing to the wet ‘spill’ on the floor and pieces of clothing scattered near the wall.

“Probably not. What I want to know is why the door panel was not only smashed to bits but the entire door welded shut and the power shut off.” Kal said while inspecting the crumpled piece of machinery.

“Who do you think could’ve done this?” M’Gann wondered.

“I have my suspicions, but we won’t know until we check the medical wing or at least find Y/N if he’s still here.”

“I’ll go check the mission room and see if the Zeta Tube logs show any transports to his city.” The Martian volunteered.

Kal instructed her to go in stealth, just in case whoever did this was still here and watching them. He and Zatanna started searching the different halls and rooms, hoping to find something, anything that could help them figure out where their friends were and what had happened.

When they reached the medical wing, Kal's suspicions were confirmed the second they spotted the empty medical bed.

“Great, so if this was Superboy’s doing and he still has the serum affecting his mind, there’s no telling where he could be.”

“What if he followed Y/N home? Red Tornado said Conner was focused on…mating with Y/N. If he left before or right as he was waking up, he could’ve followed after him.” Zatanna said, a visible disgust coming over her face at the mention of the mating part.

“Then, why was the door blocked and the power off? He couldn’t use the Zeta Tube if the power was down. And would he even know how? Red Tornado said Conner's mental thinking was reduced to that of a primate. I’m not sure how much they knew about computers and gateway technology back then.”

“Guys!”

The two turned around to see M’Gann flying up to them with a distressed look while holding something in her hand. She was breathing hard while checking her surroundings before she looked at her two teammates and whispered something they couldn’t hear.

“Huh? Say that again.”

She huffed before checking behind herself. When whatever she was checking for was clear, she turned back and leaned closer, this time speaking a little louder but not loud enough for them to understand.

“I’m sorry, we still can’t hear you.”

The Martian girl rolled her eyes before they went wide with realization.

‘CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?!’

Kal and Zatanna covered their ears in shock before giving an annoyed look to the green martian, “Yes, we can hear you, which ow, by the way.” Zatanna retorted.

‘Good. Sorry, and don’t speak out loud! He can probably hear us. Use the mental link.’ She instructed.

‘What are you talking about? Who can hear us?’ The sorceress asked, now also using the mental link as well.

‘Conner! He’s still here, and so is Y/N. When I went to the mission room, I checked the gateway logs and found the last transport going out to Y/N’s home city failed due to a power outage. Plus, his backpack was sitting next to the console.’

Kal and Zatanna's eyes both went wide as they looked at each other with realization.

‘Okay, kind of a smart move on his part. What better way to keep your captive from escaping than to lock them in an indestructible powered-down fortress?’ Zatanna said before something down the hall caught her eyes.

‘Indeed, a bit too smart for my comfort level. But, then why would Y/N seal the doors shut? He’s the only one who could weld it to the wall and floors like that.” Kal pointed out.

‘Guys…’

‘Maybe Y/N managed to escape and melted the doors to keep Conner from escaping.’ M’Gann suggested.

“Um, guys…”

‘Possible, but why was the panel smashed and why didn’t he come to find us?”

‘Guys! All legitimate concerns, I agree. But, we’ve got bigger problems!’ Zatanna shouted over the mind link before pointing towards the entrance to a very shirtless, very pissed-off Kryptonian.

They barely had time to react when Conner charged at them. He swung a punch aiming for Aqualad but only managed to hit the ground before they each ducked out of the way.

‘M’Gann, try and establish contact with Y/N now!’ Kal commanded while pulling out his water bearers to create twin swords.

‘Y/N? Can you hear me? Y/N, this is M’Gann!’

Not even a second later, they heard your voice screaming into the link, ‘CONNER HAS HIS FULL KRYPTONIAN POWERS!’

It prompted them to look up just in time to see Conner shooting his heat vision at them. Zatanna muttered a defensive spell that blocked the crimson beams from hitting Kaldur just in time while they turned and decided to run back towards the garage hangar.

‘Thanks for the warning,’ Zatanna said in the link.

‘No problem. Conner locked me in the closet in his bedroom and he used his heat vision to sear both the doors shut.’

‘That won’t be an issue for me. I can use the teleportation spell I used to get us inside.’

‘Alright then. Zatanna, you go and free Y/N. M’Gann and I will do our best to hold Conner off as long as we can.’ Kal said just as they reached the hangar. They heard a shattering sound and an angry scream, meaning Conner broke through the shield. Zatanna muttered a spell before she blinked out of sight with a small shimmer of light. 

Just as she disappeared, Conner came flying around the corner looking more angry than before. Things were about to get serious.

The sorcerer appeared right in the middle of Conner’s bedroom, taking a moment to collect herself before she looked around the messy room.

“Ugh, boys…” She muttered before rushing toward the closet. “Y/N, are you in there?” She asked.

All she heard was muffled sounds and screams in response. She uttered another spell that would force the doors to fling open while hearing your warning screams in her head all too late before she got the shock of her life.

“OH MY GOD!” She screamed, before covering her eyes at the sight of your bound naked body.

The embarrassment you felt right now definitely exceeded what you felt earlier when your friends had to first rescue you from the Kryptonian. In your defense, you tried to warn her before she opened the door, but the girl didn’t listen.

You could hear her uttering another spell under her head before a new tank top and pair of shorts appeared on your body. When the dark-haired girl confirmed you were indeed clothed, she knelt down to untie the gag off your mouth.

“Not one word of this to the others,” You said the second you could spit the torn piece of your old shirt out.

“Agreed.”

Zatanna helped you out of the handcuffs before helping you to your feet. It took you a minute to get your balance back since you hadn’t been on your feet for a while with Conner always choosing to carry you every fucking where on his shoulder.

“What took you all so long?! Conner freaking shut off the power and trapped me in here, and then basically molested me in the garage hangar. He was just about to get his grand prize before you guys showed up. My therapist is gonna be banking off this for the next year.” You all but shouted while trying to get the cooling bracelet off your wrist.

“Okay first off, TMI. Second off, we would’ve been back a half-hour ago but we were stuck outside trying to figure out why the door wouldn’t open. Now, we know why. Speaking of which, why didn’t you just blast him or fly away and come get us?”

“Oh, you don’t think I freaking tried that?! Conner waited to surprise me with his new powers just as I got out and then as a bonus, decided to slap one of Batman’s insurance policies on me. This freaking cooling bracelet is blocking my powers, and I don’t know how to get it off!” You groaned while trying to pry the thing open.

“Ugh, hold still,” Zatanna said while grabbing your wrist.

You heard her speaking backward again before you saw the blue light on the bracelet suddenly turn green before it snapped open, falling to the ground. Just as earlier when Conner first put it on and you felt a rush of cold air, the second it was off, a familiar heat spread over your body as you conjured two fireballs in your hands.

“Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you?”

“No. But, if you order me my favorite takeout for dinner, I’ll consider it all forgiven.”

“Deal.”

Just as you both began to make your way to the door, you could hear M’Gann calling out to you on the link.

‘M’Gann, what’s wrong? I just got Y/N and we’re about to be on our way back.’

‘Don’t. Conner’s on his way to you now. Get to the mission room and use the Zeta Tube to get out of here. Kaldur took some hard hits. He wasn’t as harsh on me as he was on him, but I think he figured out our plan.’

As soon as she said that, the door was blasted off its hinges as the Kryptonian made his way through. When he saw you weren’t in the closet anymore (pun not intended) and that you were free of your cuffs, you immediately knew you were in for it by the vicious snarl he let out.

Thankfully, you had no plans of letting that happen.

He pointed his finger at you before pointing at the ground in front of him, reminding you of earlier when you first broke out of his hold. When this entire mess began…

You moved Zatanna behind you while staring at the Kryptonian in his blue eyes, formulating a plan in your head.

‘Zatanna, when I give the signal. Teleport us to the mission room.’ You instructed.

‘What about Kal?’

‘M’Gann will take care of him, I’m sure. But Conner won’t even waste his time on him. He’ll be too focused on chasing after me.’

‘Alright.’

Just like earlier, Conner could somehow tell you were up to something. You were counting on the hopeful fact he hadn’t noticed you were free of the cooling bracelet, which was met with joyous truth as he reacted too slowly to you blasting your own heat vision right into his eyes as you did earlier.

He shouted in pain while you yelled “NOW” to Zatanna who immediately grabbed your hand while uttering the spell. However, he recovered faster this time than before and immediately tried to charge at you in hopes of snatching you back before you could get away, but was too late as you both blinked away, popping into the mission room in a flash of light.

“Nice one,” You said while immediately running for the console and punching in the coordinates for your city.

Just as you finished typing, you heard an animalistic growl from behind you, turning to see a flash of white fur before you were suddenly knocked to the ground. A pair of snarling teeth were in your face as you felt Wolf’s paws on your body while Sphere held back Zatanna from trying to help you.

“Ugh, I forgot about you two.” You groaned.

He must have sent them here to hold you off, probably knowing if you managed to get free, you’d try to transport your way out of here since the garage hangar was blocked.

Out of patience at this point, you mentally apologized to the canine before letting your body be consumed in flames to force him off your chest. Yet again though, as the day was proving over and over, you couldn’t catch a fucking break.

The moment you were off the ground, Conner rushed in and immediately charged for you. One second, you were standing free and ready to make a break for the teleporter, the next you found yourself slammed against the wall with him gripping both your arms while he pressed himself against you to prevent you from moving.

A familiar rush of cold air spread over you, the Kryptonian not wasting any time slamming your good ole wrist jewelry back on.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You snapped while Conner had his arrogant smirk before tossing you back over his shoulder, not bothering to cuff your hands while making his way to the Zeta Tube.

“Zatanna, a little help!”

“I’d love to, but I’m kind of busy not becoming a bowling pin right now!”

You didn’t have time to throw back a witty remark before you felt yourself lifted and tossed into the open portal. The familiar tingle you always got when using the Zeta passageways came over but was stronger this time. Probably because your body was colder than its normal temp from the cooling bracelet, so it had more of an effect on you.

When the flash of light passed through your eyes, you found yourself inside the photo booth in the alleyway of your city. Knowing Conner would be right behind you, you figured one last-ditch attempt wouldn’t be too worthless. Maybe you could find a place to hide or catch someone’s attention to give you a hand.

Yeah, of course. Just grab the next random person’s attention and let them know a super-powered caveman Kryptonian is after your sweet little hole, and you need help escaping in their Toyota Prius or Nissan Altima even though he can move faster than the car.

Real smart idea. 

Well, actually the Altima may not be a bad thought. Those fuckers never obey the speed limit.

The moment you exited the photo booth, it lit up again with your captor promptly exiting and smashing the booth to pieces, preventing your friends from being able to follow behind.

Because why fucking not?

You barely had a chance to turn around and run before he had you back in his grip, his smug look returning to your sight before you were lifted into a bridal hold with him taking off in the air.

‘Oh, god, I’m so fucked…’

The sound of waves crashing against land was the first thing you recognized when Conner finally landed somewhere. A salty sea smell assaulted your nostrils as you looked up and took in the deserted beach. The city lights in the distance added some illumination on the dark shore as well as the shine from the moon in the clear sky.

You could remember countless times when you’d come out here at night whether with friends or just yourself to fool around or listen to the sounds of the waves. It helped you relax, helped you think. It was where you made some of your biggest revelations and decisions, like when you first discovered your powers.

Ironic a person with pyrokinesis first thought was to run to a place filled with water. Actually, maybe it was kind of smart. If something went wrong, like you accidentally set yourself on fire, you had a quick way to put it out.

There were a lot of great memories with this place. It was comforting. It was peaceful…

He brought you up to a lone standing tree before setting your on your feet positioning you between it and him leaving you no place to move. He held your waist tight in his hands while pressing himself against you, staring down deeply into your eyes.

The shadow around his face made his strong chin and jaw look more prominent, but more than ever, his blue eyes seemed to shine brighter than the ocean right behind you two as he stared down at you with an adoring gaze.

Wait, adoring?

“Co-Conner? Is that you? Like, actually you in there?”

He stared at you quietly, his usual frown in place which only made you more nervous until the corners of his lips turned up into an all-familiar cocky grin, immediately putting you on high alert.

“Well, depends on your definition of ‘actually me’, but if you mean am I back to a regular state of mind, then yeah, seems so.” He responded.

Pardon?

“I- uh, I’m sorry, huh?” You stammered, words slowly escaping your mind.

“Think I can get a couple rounds in before the others show up?” He asked while taking a hand and palming around your stomach.

Bitch, what?

“Hold the fuck up!” You exclaimed, your hands fully planted on his chest as stared down at you with an amused raised eyebrow. “The hell you mean was that enough?! Were you actually conscious of everything this entire time?”

You may have sometimes been a little naive, a bit clumsy, and you often ran your mouth before you thought about what you were saying, but you were no fool. Boo-Boo was nowhere on your birth certificate last time you checked.

So, when Conner’s lack of confusion and surprise at the current ‘circumstance’ you were in failed to show, assumptions were made on your end. And they were not good, not in the slightest.

“Conner whatever your fucking middle name is Kent, I swear to whatever deity is listening to me right now, if you don’t explain what the fuck is going on right now, this whole beach is going to turn to glass in the next 10 seconds. Because if you’ve been playing games this entire time, pretending you were in some primal state of mind just to make a fool out of me, you’re going to realize that Batman is not the only one who has different ways of kicking your ass. And I promise you, that if-”

Your rant ended in a sudden ‘mmph’ sound when he pulled you into a sudden kiss. Out of all the times the hero managed to shock you into silence, this has to be one of the most surprising and satisfying ones.

There was a latent level of shock in your body, your wide eyes reflecting this, but the soft feel of his lips had them closing and you giving in to him within seconds. Despite his initial rough approach, there was a tenderness in the way he kissed you.

Before you even knew it, your lips were dancing right along with his. There was passion and longing in that kiss, leaving you more confused than 10 seconds prior.

The way he held and treated you was definitely different. The possessive grip he had around you didn’t falter at all. But, there was a newfound gentleness in his touch, like you were a prize to be cared for. Even if that was what you technically were earlier when he was in his conquest mode, this was not the same as that.

In those moments earlier, you were the kind of prize meant to be conquered. Here in this moment, you were rather something treasured.

Before long, your human lungs started giving you their red alert. Conner broke away the kiss not a moment later as if he already knew before you did. Your lips chased after his though, and he chuckled at your reaction before lifting a finger to your chin to tilt your head up toward him.

“Does that explain enough for you, or do you need a little bit more demonstration?”

Despite the blush written clear across your cheeks, there was a small smile appearing on your lips, as you took a few seconds to process what was going through your head and heart.

Satisfaction, physically speaking.

Nerves and adrenaline.

Ultra flamboyant giddiness.

Completely normal.

Yet, that nagging little voice in the back of your mind got louder with every fluttering heartbeat that pumped blood and butterflies throughout your veins.

What did this all mean?

“Hey,” You heard the Kryptonian speak, noticing the concerned look on his face, “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” There was a nervous tone in his words, almost vulnerable if you were listening hard enough which would be very different compared to the stark, smug confidence he showed you whenever he managed to toss you on his shoulder or dig himself inside your guts. Even before this serum fiasco, he may have been standoffish at moments and quiet, but rarely had you ever heard him talk like he was afraid of being hurt.

You felt for him in that moment, you really did, but you were also at risk of being hurt. And, rather than sit there and pretend like everything was clear and simple, you had questions that needed answering. For your own sake, and quite frankly, your own sanity.

“Conner, I-” The words seem to get stuck in your throat, with you trying to find the right thing to say, but what that exactly was couldn’t form a clear sentence in your mind. So, out of options, you just babbled.

“I don’t know what the heck is going on right now, and truthfully, I rarely ever do know what’s going on. Uh, wait, what was I saying? Oh right! This morning, we were friends, nothing more, then the warehouse happened, and started acting like a caveman and treated me like your prey or prize or whatever, not like it wasn’t super hot, because it definitely was and I shouldn’t have said that. Either way, you’re confused! No, wait, that came out wrong. I meant you’re confusing and I’m confused. Either way–

“Y/N!”

Conner shouting your name with a slight squeeze to your ass was an effiective way of shutting you up. Rude and hot, but effective nonetheless.

“I know. I was aware of everything going on.”

Now, that had you wordless.

“Well, actually, not everything. And I wasn’t in control of my actions at all. Well, not completely. Okay, now I’m confused.”

“You and me both.” You muttered under your breath. He responded with a light growl and a pinch to your ass.

“I’ll spank you.”

“Like you haven’t already done worse.” You said back with a challenging tone.

A stubborn grunt was let off before he gave you another small thrust as punishment for your smart quip, pulling a light whine from you. You could feel his cum dripping out of you slowly since his dick kept you plugged and everything inside, which you had a slight feeling he was doing on purpose.

“Alright, before any more smutty shenanigans ensue, can we talk about what exactly this is, and more importantly, why this even happened in the first place.”

Conner let out a sigh, looking down at you through his eyelashes before leaning down and giving your neck and shoulder light kisses. The giddy feeling in your stomach almost managed to cloud your rationality, almost being the keyword.

“Hey, don’t try to distract me.” You chastised him with a slight slap against his naked arm.

“I’m not distracting, I’m just enjoying the moment.” He said while giving you a few more light kisses.

Eventually, he moved you both over to the sand, setting you both down a little bit closer to the water while sitting you in his lap. However, you suddenly found yourself missing the warm contact of his skin pressing against yours.

When he finally had you both in comfortable positions, you resting against his chest and him nuzzling your hair, the intense beating in your heart that you had become used to from the day’s excitement had gradually started to slow down. You felt yourself nuzzling into his embrace more than you would admit out loud, but the man was comfortable.

After a few beats of silence, you heard Conner clear his throat. Though you didn’t want to move from the warm spot, you’d rather look the Kryptonian in the eyes as he explained himself. For your own sake.

“I was aware of what I was doing,” He started, which had your chest tightening and a sullen look appearing on your face which he noticed, “Only after you guys subdued me the first time, and like I said earlier, I still wasn’t in full control of myself.”

You could feel the confusion start to return to your mind, but rather than start rambling again, you just nodded to him to signal you were listening and let him continue.

“When I first woke up from the serum, Tornado was right. I was completely out of my mind and acting on pure animalistic instinct. All my senses were amplified even more than they usually are with my powers and all. So the onslaught of different smells and scents triggered me and I was about two seconds away from trying to kill you all, then I caught your scent out of everyone else’s, and the next thing I knew, you were all I could think about.”

Huh, nice to know you were what was stopping the team’s arguably most powerful member from murdering you all by just smelling good. Something you never thought you’d be thinking in your life, but there was a first for everything as they say.

“It started as a general curiosity, since at the moment, all my mind could think prior was anger and murder. But, of course, curiosity turned to excitement, and let’s just say I suddenly only had one goal in mind.”

“Doing me in front of friends?”

“I’d rather call it ‘mounting my claim.’ You know, animal terms and all that stuff.”

You rolled your eyes at his corny joke, before going silent again to let him continue.

“But, yes, for a lack of better words, all I could think about was shoving my dick inside you. You just smelled so good in that moment, you always have, but, the serum just suddenly made your scent feel almost irresistible to me, and all I could think of was capturing you in my arms and not letting anyone take you from me. Granted, I might have gone a bit far.”

“A bit? You call slinging me over your shoulder for half an hour while you leap, run, and fight our friends going just a bit far? Not to mention you choke-slamming Wally against the wall and damn near strangling him.

“Okay, one, you enjoyed that. I have the dried evidence on the shoulder of my shirt to prove it, spanking and all so don’t try and deny it.”

He got you there. Blushing cheeks (face and ass) and all.

“Second, I told you. Animal state of mind. In my head, I claimed you as my mine, and everyone else was a threat to that. What animal have you ever seen not defend their territory?” He asked, which you had to admit, he got you there as well.

Also, why was that kind of hot?

“You know I can still smell your arousal right? And the fact that you are in my pants and covered in my scent is not helping.” He said, to which you noticed the familiar feel of his throbbing organ below you wanting more action.

“Mind your business.”

“You’re currently sitting on my lap half naked while wearing my pants and covered in my sweat and cum. I think it’s safe to say you are my business at the moment.” He responded while tightening his hold around you.

Seriously, where did he get this smart (and hot) mouth from? That serum had to have more side effects than noted. But, you weren’t easily defeated in the sass factor. Conner may have you beat when it comes to raw strength and physical force, but wordplay? That was your forté.

“And who’s exact fault is it, that I’m even in this position?”

“Dr. Ivo.”

“Okay, well, after him.”

“Batman and Red Tornado for not making sure I was properly secured before leaving.”

“Okay! After them!”

“The others for not showing you the backdoor out of the Cave.”

“There’s a backdoor?!”

“Yeah, you didn’t know? M’Gann showed it to everyone on their first tour of the base. The garage hangar is considered the front door, and there’s a back door just in case. You didn’t think we’d only rely on the vehicle hangar or the Zeta Gateway if we had to make a fast escape did you?”

“I- … No comment.” You sighed in defeat, Conner chuckling at your tone while rubbing your back. You’d be having a word with your friends later when you got back to the Cave. Many words…

“It’s okay, I really didn’t give you many options either way. And even if you did manage to make it out the back, I would’ve just followed right behind as you already know.” The Kryptonian reassured you, which reminded you about the nagging question in the back of your mind.

“So, on that note, I’m assuming when you said you were aware of your actions, it was then?”

It was his turn to sigh after you asked your question, immediately knowing where this was heading.

“Yes. After Batman knocked me out with the Kryptonite, the serum lost some of its effect on me, but not as much as Red Tornado predicted. Kryptonite doesn’t just weaken my abilities, it affects everything in me, including my immune system. By the time I woke up, I was still very much under its influence, but I was slightly back to myself and could think and focus on more things other than sex and fighting.”

It made sense. You remembered the moment during your fight with Conner in the vehicle hangar when you realized how convenient and well-planned everything seemed. It was truly when your doubts and insecurities about everything started taking root, thinking all of it was just some game with you in the end being the actual loser.

Now, the time to find out if you lost was here, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Some would think that paying attention to Conner’s actions and words before this, would negate some of those concerns in your head, but, as life has proven many times in the past, things aren’t always as they seem.

But, that doesn’t mean it’s always in a bad way though…

“So, you were awake then, huh? When Wally and I were talking in the medical hangar…”

He looked down at you at that moment, his eyes softening as if he could sense the growing mental and emotional turmoil in your head and chest. You wanted to focus on his words, and his words only, but it was hard with the way you could feel him pulling you in closer, doing his best to comfort you as much as possible.

It was the fact that you couldn’t tell if it was for making you feel better in the moment to alleviate your worries or cushion the eventual blow that you were expecting to come soon.

“Yes, I was. I was actually up that entire time. The Kryptonite did weaken me enough to where I couldn’t react or respond like I would’ve if I could, but I wasn’t asleep or unconscious. Truthfully, after Batman and Tornado had left and it was just you and him in the room, I was planning to just surprise you both right there. Incapicate Wally in any way I could, grab you, and run for one of the exits.”

“What stopped you?”

All day, you’d been subjected to prideful smirks, arrogant grins, and cocky looks from the Kryptonian. An annoying, but definitely attractive sub-trait of his overwhelming confidence and stalwart courage. So, seeing his blushing cheeks and undeniable shy look on his face had you sitting up very suddenly.

Conner didn’t like it since it meant you could see his face more clearly, and unbeknownst to you, you were further away from him, and he liked the feeling of you cuddling against his body.

“Why are you blushing?” You asked, not letting him pull you back in his arms like he tried. It helped you were sitting on his still very erect penis at a slightly awkward angle which limited his movements. One wrong move, and he’d be in a very uncomfortable position.

“Would you stop it?” He pleaded, clearly already uncomfortable with the metamorphic spotlight that had been placed on him.

“Answer the question, and I will.”

“I thought actions spoke louder than words.”

“And suddenly, I can’t hear. Answer.”

“How will you hear the words?”

“I’ll read your lips. Answer the damn question.”

You were staring into his blue eyes by this point, fully waiting for your answer. The Kryptonian looked right back into your own before his hands grabbed the sides of your head, pulling you into another smashing kiss like the one against the tree earlier.

This was similar but still very different from the previous one. He wasn’t trying to shut you up (considering you weren’t even talking), but merely trying to communicate the words he couldn’t bring himself to say. Ironic how he has no trouble expressing how he feels in any other scenario whether it’s his anger about a mission or irritation with an order from Batman or your comrades, but this has him fumbling.

Yet, you were not complaining about how you moved your lips against his, bringing your hands around his neck. You could almost physically feel everything he was pouring into the kiss, and it was mind-numbing, to say the least.

Once again, your human lungs reminded you of their need for oxygen. Thankfully, Conner did the work for you and pulled away from your lips with you chasing after them. He placed another light kiss on them though, while opening his eyes to your closed ones, enjoying the pleasant view in front of him.

When you opened yours back up to him, he smiled at you, placing another peck on your lips while finally scooting you back closer to him, and re-adjusting himself into a more comfortable position.

“Does that answer your question?” He asked. Though there was no trace of sarcasm in his tone, you could still spy it in his face with the humorous glint in his eye.

“Maybe. I might need another one though just to be sure. I always like to double-check my answers.” You responded with your own smile.

He laughed at you before feeling himself nuzzling his face into your neck, taking in your scent which you now could admit was actually very comforting. Still weird, but you’d grown used to it by this point.

Your doubts had been quieted, and you felt you could trust his words without second-guessing or overthinking, something that was not an easy feat to do. That’s why when a few moments of silence passed, you decided to ask one of the other questions that had been nagging in the back of your mind.

“How long?”

“Since you joined the team. I was never good with my feelings, let alone expressing or even understanding them. It took some time for me to figure out what they were, and when I did, I was nervous and scared that you didn’t feel the same about me. I knew you liked guys, but I didn’t know if you liked me. And, even if you did, I didn’t know if you would like me for… well, me. So, I stayed quiet.” He admitted, immediately knowing what you were asking.

Thinking about it from his perspective, you could see his reasoning and why he chose to hide his feelings. If you were in his shoes, you’d probably do the same. However, it was clear neither of you was good at picking up signs considering he missed all the ones that showed you were into him. Not that you were trying to, but there were moments where it was plainly obvious, enough for Wally to pick up on them which led to him finding out.

Idiots in love, the both of you.

“When I heard you and Wally talking in the medical wing, and his little teases and performance, it was all the confirmation I needed. If it wasn’t for that, like I said, I probably would’ve just waited for the right moment to snatch you away from the others and find a way out of the Cave without alerting them. But, after hearing that conversation, I figured why not make it a little bit more challenging and fun. Didn’t expect you to put up as much of a fight though. Glad I had insurance.” He explained, his typical smirk returning to his face while he marveled at the accessory on your wrist.

Hold it.

“Back up. You mean to tell me you trapping me in the Cave, fingering me in the vehicle hangar, and locking me in your closet was all for fun and a challenge? I’m nervous to ask what your ideal idea is for a first date.” You stated. He gave you an unimpressed look while nudging his still-hard member against you.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy any of it. Remember, I could hear, taste, and smell your arousal through everything.” He teased while nipping at your ear. 

You ignored the horny pang in your stomach from that while pretending to be annoyed, “Whatever. Well, I hope you weren;t planning to try and do me raw. Last thing I need is to end up pregnant.”

“What if I want a kid? No better way to trap you with me than with a baby.” Conner mumbled while still giving you soft kisses behind your ear and neck. 

“Then you can explain to my dad what happened if I end up knocked up. And I gotta warn ya, Kryptonian powers or not, that man is scary.” You chuckled, turning your head to look at the superhero, who would never admit that slight nervous look in his eyes at the mention of your father.

A slight laugh bubbled up your chest before you turned looking out to the sea. The feel of the cold piece of metal on your wrist became prominent and the silence and you looked down at the device, still slightly shuddering from the chill running through your body.

“How did you even know about this thing in the first place?” You asked, pointing to the cooling device on your wrist.

“Dick let me in on a few little secrets about the Bat, though he never did tell me where he keeps getting and storing all that freaking kryptonite. Anyway, when I heard you and Wally talking about Batman’s insurance plans, I figured if he had one for me, then he had to have one for every meta on the team and in the league. While you and the others were in the lounge room hanging out, I went searching through the libraries and rooms and found some of Batman’s secret compartments.” He explained.

You raised an eyebrow at that. “Hmm, so is that when you discovered your unlocked abilities?”

“Actually, no. Right when you managed to make it out of the door, I originally was just going to do the same as I did before and well… leap after you. Even if you got away, I could track you down since your scent is alluring, but definitely not subtle. Fire powers and all,” He said with a smug little chuckle.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I get it. Heat makes smell more noticeable. Gosh, you and Wally sure love harping down that tree.” You retorted with an actual annoyed eye roll this time.

“Hey, I said you still smell good. Either way, when I jumped after you I noticed instead of falling back down to the ground, I was still in the air flying. It didn’t take much for me to realize what was going on and I just flew into action, literally.”

“So the whole welding the door shut and almost barbecuing our friends?”

“Yeah, I might have overdone it on that one, but animal instincts were still in control. There was only so much I could do to hold myself back. Every time you fought against me or got away or the others intervened was another boost to my aggression and anger, prompting my hasty reactions. And it wasn’t just my instincts fueling all this. Like I said, there was a reason your scent stuck out to me the most. Your conversation with Wally just confirmed it was returned and it made me a bit more crazy to an extent.”

“To an extent is a stretch,” You muttered under your breath. Conner let out an annoyed grunt while giving you another playful nip on your ear.

“Super hearing, remember?”

You were fully aware of his ability, but, for his sake, you played along.

“Right, sorry.” He gave a kiss to your neck as a way of saying he accepted the apology. With a little time to process everything, you felt most of your questions answered. However, there was one that was remaining at the back of your mind. Probably the most pressing one to be honest.

“So, is that why you and M’Gann…”

“We broke up because I realized that there wasn’t any real spark between me and her. What started between us was curiosity, considering I didn’t know what romance and feelings and everything else was. I just went with what I saw and observed. Sometimes it was nice, many times it was confusing, and many times, it felt wrong. So, I broke up with her. She was upset about it a little and figured it had something to do with you. She was always suspicious, but never had confirmation until this happened.”

Conner pointed his fingers between the two of you, and the reminder of your earlier indecent actions had you blushing and smiling all over again. You had to admit, it was a nice feeling knowing that most of your doubtful and questioning thoughts were for nothing.

Well, it’s better to be cautious than to fall in blindly and get hurt. But, the satisfaction and happiness you felt in your chest bloomed over all of those past feelings.

Thinking about the day's events and how everything ended up happening, you had to say you were fine with how it all played out. However, you definitely would admit you imagined you and Conner getting together in an entirely different scenario. 

Saving each other on a mission, getting into an argument and blurting things out, or even just the cutesy little moments where your friends stick their noses in and try to get you together were all ideas that came to mind. This scenario however with you sitting on the beach after he acted like a caveman and chose you as his new mate was not in the tarot cards for this category.

Though, the end result had you more than satisfied; both physically, mentally, and emotionally.

If there was anything to learn from this, you should listen to your instincts more, no matter how primal they are.

“So, are you going to take this off anytime soon?” You asked, once again pointing at the wrist jewelry you were currently wearing.

Conner smiled down at the item and you mischievously before running one of his hands over the device.

“Are you going to try and fight me again? I kind of like you being defenseless and helpless.” He joked though a part of you knew he was also partly serious.

Though, now, considering all that was said and done, it was your turn to have some fun.

“Well, considering you had to take away my powers to be able to catch me, I’d say your victory wasn’t really much of a victory at all.” You taunted while tracing a finger over his chest.

You could feel the vibration from his irritated growl under your fingertips, letting you know you hit the right button. Caveman or not, Conner both loved and hated being challenged.

“I mean, to me, it says that even with your full Kryptonian powers, you needed some cheap little trinket to be able to actually subdue me. Guess I’m just that tough of a prey to catch.” You continued your teasing, sneakily taking glances up at the Kryptonian, catching his hard and lustful stares at you.

“Is that so?” He gruffly spoke into your ear.

“It would seem so, at least to me, and anyone else watching. Don’t think you can say you claimed me if you couldn’t manage to beat me fair and square. But, it’s okay, I get it. Maybe you’re not up to the challenge. Maybe someone else will come along and prove their merit without needing to cheat.”

You barely finished the sentence before the sound of the clamp opening hit your ears. That familiar rush of warmth came over you again as your fire returned to your body. While you were distracted, Conner ripped the shorts off and his pants off of him before standing you both up, now fully naked to the world, minus your shirt.

“I dare you to say that again.”

You were really in for it now.

☀️ | Conner Kent/Superboy | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[itz-pandora]

Tell me about the misc au hedgehogs

Oh gosh I could say so much about each dudeeee. Like. OUGGHH

Sonic the Hedgehog, formerly Nikki

A kind boy who was initially secretave about his past, choosing to only look towards the future. He's heroic and adventurous, and has a bit of an ego and attitude. He can be selfish and emotionally unobservant, but he's not cruel. Just kinda... Stupid.

He left his home and life as Nikki when he was 10. He changed his name to Sonic and decided to try to play off as a boy (even though he was born female.) he liked being Sonic and the thought of going back to his old identity was sickening. He never wanted to look back, so he didn't. He left because he felt suffocated by rules, and he heard about Dr. Robotnik terrorizing West Side Island, so that's where he went and met Tails and the rest is history.

Amy Rose

When she first met Sonic, she was infatuated by his bravery and heroism. She wanted to be like him, she tried her best to keep up, but she never could. She wanted to pull her weight. She decided that if she couldn't pull her weight with her skill and power, she's try to be the best friend she could. Her compassion is her real weapon and shield.

She's convinced many people to turn a new leaf and is a friend of all, even if she can be a bit stubborn. She's three years younger than Sonic.

Amy helped a lot of people, and even ended up dating Shadow and Neo Metal.

Shadow the Hedgehog

An android made 50 years ago aboard the ARK, designed with the initial motive to save the planet and solve problems with his adaptive learning. A failsafe program was installed in his code to keep him from going berserk, Maria's final wish, but after the ARK Raid, his memory files were altered, and he blamed G.U.N. for shooting Maria. (Maria is entirely a false memory, since she didn't live past toddler hood.)

Shadow is trying to be a good person in his own way, still stoic and often distant. He's afraid of being controlled, weaponized, or being just another mindless machine. He built up a mentality that since he's not organic, he's not truly a real person. Even though his friend try to beat that mentality out of him, he does relapse whenever he's proven right (He's usually more emotionally distant and touch adversed in these states.)

Shadow was made with old hardware, but his software gets constantly updated. Shadow often overheats and short circuits when he's experiencing intense emotions or spiraling because of how many programs he's running (sometimes he bluescreens and crashes) and he has a lot more or android world building but I've talked for long enough.

Silver the Hedgehog

A friend from 200 years in the future who was initially joined by his childhood best friend, Blaze. Him and Blaze were scavengers for a lot of their lives, until they got competent enough to fend off Iblis. Blaze was a normal person, no powers like Silver's. Silver was tricked by Mephiles, and after risking and saving the past, lost Blaze once she sealed Iblis inside herself. Silver was messed up for a long time, until he decides to do something. He goes to Little Planet and obtains the Time Stones, using them to return to the past.

Silver befriends Espio and lives with the Chaotix Detective Agency, and also works with them. He's also a good friend of Amy since he has a soft spot for her. Silver and Espio are dating, but they don't announce it or anything.

Scourge the Hedgehog, formerly Manic

Sonic's younger brother (2 year gap) and the last person to see Nikki before they ran away to become Sonic. Manic looked up to Nikki, and when they left, he was devastated. He felt guilty for Nikki leaving, he blamed himself, and he hated himself for it. His family was tense from the stress and loss of Nikki, so Manic depended on friends for comfort and as an escape, but that turned out to be a bad influence as the people he spent time with lead him down the wrong path.

Present day, his name is Scourge, he's vengeful and hates Sonic. To him, Nikki doesn't exist anymore, it's just Sonic. He tries to sabotage Sonic, trying to make Sonic feels anything close to what he went through. He eventually gets arrested LOL I don't know exactly what he does though. Him and Fiona do still date and are actually childhood friends.

Sonia the Hedgehog

Sonic's older sister (3 year age gap) who tried to steer Nikki in the right direction, but was crushed under the weight of Nikki's absence. She withdrawaled almost completely, dedicating her time to search if her sibling was still alive.

I don't have a ton about her yet.

[thatskynews]

Sky kids! 👋 We've got a new patch update coming for Sky:

✨ Season of Radiance Continues

✨ Days of Treasure: Prizes Await on the Horizon

✨ Tech Spotlight returns for more live Sky kids' music

➕ More Updates

Known Issues Patch 0.28.5

We are aware of the following bugs that are ongoing or were introduced with the arrival of Patch 0.28.5:

Days of Treasure

🔹 When attempting to purchase an item from the event Spirit with insufficient Event Tickets, the hint text displays an incorrect ticket icon.

🔹Hint text indicating that “all light has been collected today” is missing when players have completed collecting all the Event Tickets from the treasure chests for that day.

🔹Players performing friendship emotes while holding the shovel may notice that the emote animation doesn’t work properly.

🔹When attempting to purchase dye from the box of free spells with insufficient Event Tickets, the hint text indicating that a player does not have enough to complete the transaction is missing.

Spotlight Tech

🔹Some players may not be able to see concert hall effects that are triggered during player emoting reactions.

🔹The previous broadcaster may not time out properly before the next broadcaster appears causing a brief overlap in players seated at the piano.

🔹Players that have not yet completed the second quest of the Season of Duets, may not properly see the broadcasters at the piano.

General

🔹We are investigating account linking issues that some players may be experiencing.

🔹[PC-Steamdeck] Some players may experience flashing capes on their or friends avatars.

🔹We are investigating issues with some players who have their home set to their Nests and the Nest appearing empty when they login.

We appreciate your patience and apologize for any inconvenience these may cause while we work to resolve them in a future update.

[hushhushchild]

—NSFW Imagines—

Gender neutral reader, spicy, not smut

I seem to have picked up a slight fascination for… “rare” monsters in monsterfucking. Of course, the odd werewolf or minotaur fills my need most times. But there’s something so delectable about something novel, a unique flavor to sate my appetite. I might even elaborate on them later…

Needless to say, I’ve compiled a few of these, from savory to sweet. I hope you enjoy, my lovelies.

~Witch~

A new bakery just opened down the block! In a rather slow part of the city, any new development (let alone a bakery) catches your eye. It’s a quaint little shop. A chime greets your entrance. Ivy drapes from pots, indie music wafts through the air. And the owner herself, looking every last bit of the manic pixie dream girl.

Maybe she thought you were cute… slipped something into a pastry or some of the coffee served…

Maybe you just keep seeming to run into her. Grocery stores, banks, your own job. As if by fate.

Her spells could trap you, tempt you, tangle you up.

And the worst thing is… you don’t seem to care.

>Robot<

Ladies and gentlemen, the future of innovation has finally arrived! Our top scientists have managed to distill complex artificial intelligence into that of a physical form! With a simple at-home setup, you too could have an android! Whether it helps out in cooking or cleaning, teaching the kiddos, or being a good friend, our machines will do anything in their power to make you satisfied.

Suppose the robot you got was… mildly defective. It never got an update patch, which was designed to prevent the AI from learning too novel of behaviors.

Suppose it determined that what would make you happiest is fulfilling your deepest, darkest fantasies.

Suppose that this robot never slows down. Never needs to eat, or sleep, or even breathe. Spending all its time making your life a hellish heaven.

“Mimic”

Did you… always have two water bottles? Or, for that matter, two of the same stewpots? For some reason, it seems that instead of things going missing, you’re getting duplicates. And it’s getting worse.

When did your things start to move around the house without you noticing? You could’ve sworn that you left them one place, and you’re not the forgetful sort. It’s not like you have a roommate…

Say, when did you get a second vibrator? And why is that one oh-so-more intense?

%Fungus%

The air, deep in the forest, has a different smell. Not exactly floral, not exactly woody, not exactly earthy. It’s sweet, but the asphalt-sweet that reminds you of summer.

It’s growing thicker, more pungent. While it once was a gentle note in the bouquet of the forest, it slowly grows to overtake the moss and leaves. You don’t even notice when you wander off the path.

Your brain feels like it was dipped in sparkling water. It’s not hard to think, per se. It just… refuses to. The request never loads. A hazy static hangs over anything else.

You’re a perfect prey for the spores, before you even realize what you’re inhaling,

[soongtypehuman]

Boo-hoo update

I’m sorry to say I have an update I was hoping to not ever have to make. Some of you already know that I have some serious health issues, but I've been pretty quiet about the extent of what I'm dealing with.

The gist of it is that I have a rare bone disease called fibrous dysplasia that turned certain bones in my skull into tumors and then those tumors grew inward and started crushing my brain, so I had a craniotomy last year to remove as much as was safe and got a cool new titanium implant in my head to replace the removed bone/tumor. The unfortunate result was encephalomalacia, which is the end stage of liquifying necrosis, and now part of my brain is liquid instead of solid (it’s dead, in a nutshell). Most people don’t survive encephalomalacia, much less remain able to function, and most who survive the initial stage don’t survive the three year mark. Even when you do survive it, it often continues spreading. The last MRI showed it had already taken over about 1/3 of my brain. But I’m a stubborn asshole and am still hanging on.

Unfortunately, things aren’t getting better.

I have to have constant MRIs, EEGs, physical and cognitive therapies, and have been on more meds than I’d like to be in order to control seizures and various cognitive issues. I didn’t mention this before, but I had to go through a series of speech therapies just to learn to talk properly again. And the most unfortunate part of this is that my ability to write has been affected. Since the surgery over a year ago, I’ve only made 10 new posts in the Positronic Rivalry series, totaling around 87k words. For reference, I posted over 200k words in 2022. I’ve posted even less this year, and it’s not improving.

With that said, I have to take a step back. I’m not quitting and I’m not walking away from the fandom. I’d like to think I’ll still be able to post here and there. I just don’t know when and under what circumstances that will happen. I most certainly can’t handle the longer multi-chapter fics I once could. Maybe one day, but not this day. Since I started posting on AO3 back at the end of 2021, I’ve posted every Sunday more often than not. I’m sorry to say I can’t make that happen right now, and can’t say when I’ll post again or what it will be. I won't be able to continue with season 4.

But I’m most definitely not leaving the fandom and the people and the characters I love so much. I’ll still be here interacting and posting when I’m able. This fandom and the people in it are incredible and mean a lot to me. Data and Lore and Star Trek in general are integral to my life and general enjoyment.

But!! I’ve nearly completed compiling seasons 1-3 of Positronic Rivalry as well as 2022/23 Kinktobers into files that will be ready to print in physical book format (completely free, obviously), which I’ll make available for everyone to download in various print sizes, complete with covers, which you can then have printed at various POD sites if you’re so inclined. Digital versions will also be available (you can already download various formats from AO3, but they’re not compiled into seasons, don’t have covers, etc.).

I’m also continuing with the Trek-themed crossword puzzles because those are fun and my therapist thinks making them is good for my cognitive rehab.

This update is a massive bummer for me, but I felt it was better to just admit my limitations instead of constantly trying to convince myself that I could continue the way I had been pre-surgery and beating myself up when I couldn’t.

Lastly, I’ve finally taken the suggestion I’ve gotten repeatedly and set up a KoFi. If you’d like to buy me a coffee or toss a coin to your android porn witcher, you can do so right here and I’d be giggling and kicking my feet in gratitude.

Anyhow, I want to thank all of you for being amazing and coming along on this ride with me for as long as you have, and for as long as it might continue in whatever form it takes.

[laswells-ashtray]

CAUTION READING THIS SHIT, KINDA HURTS BITCH 💖

*flops across* I read a thing about a brain implant guy asking for a beer and saying 'i love my cool son' while being paralyzed. And it had this horrible thought of... Not-ai Adler? Android!Adler?

He's getting old, and he's slowing down, but suddenly he isn't. He's looking better, he's keeping up with the best of anyone. Mind is sharper, reflexes quicker.

Everything's going great, no one really thinks to hard about it. Who wants to notice/realize their loved one is growing old/er. And even after it being so long, Kate and Philip have their annual meetup with their old man. And that's when they notice it, the smiles lines on Kate's face. The extra scars on Philips face. And dear old dad, seems to only have gotten a bit blonder.

That scratch at the back of their head, uncle Mason is gone. And Uncle Woods is being a rat bastard at the facility. Popping wheelies in his wheelchair, and annoying the other residents with a pair of drums. Making passes at the pretty nurses, male and female alike, cause if he's gonna go down its either a bullet or dying while having mind blowing sex. None of that in his sleep bullshit.

Neither kid wants to ask, shooting each other a look to say something and ask. But neither does, neither wants to ruin this peace. This potential dream. And it is Adler who breaks the silence, sighing as he leaned back. Resting his dewy glass on his knees, and slowly takes off his glasses. Blinking once, twice, and there it is. The slightly glowing lenses of an automaton. The same hue as Kate and Philip's.

And he explains, that when he had that near miss with Bell, he began taking 'precautions'. A shitty beta program he heard about, backing up bits and pieces of your memory. And as the years went by, and things got harder, the tech got better. And his job, not yet within reach, not yet finished. He finally made the push, and here he is. Same as he can be, new skin suit and hardware, but the same memories. The same affection and love for his kids. If it's a bug, he'll keep it. Doesn't do any software updates, and only has one specific Russian do repairs. He knows how to keep quiet. Tried to talk Woods into it, but was threatened with a magnet. Yeah he kept those too.

As for how long he'll still be here? As long as it takes, as long as his kids want.

Lia, Val Kilmer dies, and then you do this to me. I don't know what my limit is, but I do know where my vodka is and I'll be reaching for it now.

God, the desire to never lose yourself to the extent that you give yourself away. Jesus Christ.

Mortality and the way we try to deflect that which has taken out generations before us, because we seek the power that they sought with lesser resources.

This is it, you've killed me.

[forgottenporkbun]

Alright people. Buckle up cus it's finally time i tell you the history of Animal Crossing!!!! (After putting it off for awhile)

Originally named どうぶつの森 (Doubutsu no mori) in Japan meaning Animal Forest. It was introduced at Spaceworld 2000 in Japan and many people have claimed there was a playable demo there. I believe there is a bit if footage you can find on it but I may be wrong.

Doubutsu no mori released on April 14, 2001 on the Nintendo 64 exclusively in Japan. Only 8 months later on December 14, 2001 they released Doubutsu no mori + for the Gamecube which contained extra features left out of the 64 version such as the museum and the Able sisters (along with house upgrades I believe) and used the Gamecube's built in clock.

Finally, they localised and released the game under the title Animal Crossing: Population Growing in North America on September 16, 2002, Australia on October 17, 2003, and Europe on September 24, 2004 on the Gamecube

However, on June 27, 2003 Japan release yet another version of the game titled Doubutsu no mori e+ where they added even more new features for villagers such as: extended dialogue, the best friend system, sickness, likes/hates, catching fleas, etc. In this version of the game you could use the e card reader to obtain certain items. In this version of the game you could also buy an island from Tom Nook which you could access through Kapp'n. Once you got to this island you could name it, create a flag, and download it onto your Gameboy Advance to continue interacting with your islander or even trade islands with other players.

Animal Crossing Wild World released for the Nintendo DS in Japan on November 23, 2005, North America and Australia on December 5, 2005, and in Europe sometime in March of 2006.

On June 1, 2006 a Chinese version of Doubutsu no mori called 动物森林 (Dòngwù Sēnlín) was released for the iQue Player, a Chinese Nintendo console. Dòngwù Sēnlín is the original N64 version of the game despite featuring characters from Doubutsu no mori + on the cover.

Animal Crossing City Folk was releases in North America November 16, 2008 for the Wii followed by its release in Japan on November 20, 2008, Australia on December 4, 2008, and Europe on December 5, 2008. City Folk was compatible with the Wii Speak microphone, which allowed you to talk to other players who had it- essentially a form of voice chat. Fun fact: there's an add for the game where it is featured being used!!! One feature i absolutely love in this game is the fountain , where you can throw an axe into it and a special character named Serena will appear and she is how you obtain both the silver and golden axe.

Now onto Animal Crossing New Leaf was released for the Nintendo 3DS in Japan and South Korea on February 7, 2013. After that, it released internationally across June of 2003: June 9 in North America, June 14 in Europe, and June 15 in Australia.

Animal Crossing Happy Home designer was released for the 3DS in Japan on July 30, 2015, North America on September 25, Europe on October 2, and Australia on October 3. This game was very different from the others and the main goal was to design houses for villagers.

In November of 2015 we were cursed with Animal Crossing Amiibo Festival for the Wii U. The game only sold 490,000 copies and was considering a failure.

Animal Crossing Pocket Camp was released on Android and iOS mobile devices on October 25, 2017 and 40 other territories on November 22, 2017- but other sources say it was the 21. Sadly, in the last year we received news that it will be shutting down, but apparently from what i know they will be making another version of it or something of the sort.

Animal Crossing New Horizons was released on March 20, 2020 internationally for the Nintendo Switch. This game introduced DIY crafting and in later updates, cooking. Eventually they added the Happy Home Paradise DLC on November 5, 2021 which essentially functions like Happy Home Designer, but unlocks new skill you can use on your island.

I must say, we've come a longggggg way with this game. It helped a lot of people through 2020- including me. Can't wait to see what's in store for us next. Hope you enjoyed learning about the history of the games and if you would like to know more (like stuff about merch or even the movie) ask away! :D

[mxrp-official-steve]

Welcome back campers, to this weeks episode of TOTAL, DRAMA, HELLSITE! On this weeks episode, me and my handy Chef Hex will be cooking up a delicious meal of parpy goodness! But the campers will have to roll a single... WITH A PROMPT! The first one to get a proper Roleplay going gets the immunity marshmallow. Now watch out, cuz this ones gonna be a doozy, dudes!

Your September 2nd PARPdate: "Remember that time on TDI where they called god to make it rain? That happened" Edition.

News this month is sorta slow- those of you In The Know already know this, but Hex is being forced to move again. This hasn't impacted Dev TOO much, honestly, and I'm gonna break down WHY in this wonderful little post!

Ok so if you remember the August update, you likely recall us showing off our shiny new mod features and how we can now play funny roleplay police state in order to nail rulebreakers and bandodgers.

If you're also a huge Bubblehead (which is what you're called), you're also likely familiar with this bastard:

(Image description: The red miles, basically. Its a message failed message repeated like ninety times in a row in red font. Thanks to Alienoid from the server for posting this screenshot for me to steal!)

This is because, somehow, these new mod features almost completely broke Dreambubble in ways that make no sense (the new features use Redis, but for some reason their introduction is making PostGres, a completely different system, go absolutely haywire)

So, Hex decided to move forward with their pet project to rewrite Dreambubble. Normally, this would mean a development delay on Parp2 and I'd feel pretty bad about laying this on yalls feet after two years of parplessness.

But hey wait isn't this literally just how they made parp last time.

The answer is yes! The previous Msparp version was built using what is now Dreambubble as a skeleton, evolving on itself into the rickety but lovable RP site we knew before she tragically passed away last February after choking to death on fresh air. As such, Dev is actually going pretty good! Hex has been COOKING through the bones for Dreambubble 2, getting a ton of barebones stuff working right off the bat:

(Image description: A barebones but functional chat window using Felt theme; complete with system connection messages, text preview, and quirking)

Along with our first new feature preview in a while: PUSH NOTIFICATIONS!

(Image description: A felt-theme settings menu showing the ability to turn on and off push notifications, as well as a browser popup in the bottom corner showing that it's been activated)

These are also working on Android! What this does is it pings you when the chat you're in gets a new message, operating on a system level instead of a site level so you don't even need to have the tab, or the browser, open to keep up with your chats! This is gonna be especially useful for mobile users, since this means they can navigate away and use their phone for other things, and their phone'll just ping them when their partners' next message comes through. (These are gonna be off by default, btw. You'll have to turn them on yourself on a per-chat basis in the final release)

It should also be noted that we've Snagged Ourselves A UI Guy recently from the userbase, so we've got a dedicated Make It Look Good person for when things get closer to launch!

That's all for this update, though. Absolutely thrilled to be showing off some progress after the restart. Hopefully we'll have even more to show off next month!

Until then, cheers!

[glassautomaton]

Maybe it’s because I’ve been sitting on Devil’s Advocate for a while without any forward progress but I feel I’m becoming increasingly dissatisfied with what’s already made for it. Aside from a few creative choices or lines I don’t feel great about (which I could theoretically go back and edit, I mean who’s gonna stop me) I’m concerned that the series as a whole doesn’t work well as a single piece that moves people forward. Individual tales, sure, but I worry that what I have doesn’t encourage people to continue the series enough with its pacing on a macro scale. And I’ve dedicated a good amount of time already, and plan to dedicate more, to antagonists that I like but increasingly worry have no real appeal beyond me just liking androids. I’ve got plans for them and how they bounce off of and foil the main cast but I wonder if people even much care for them in the first place, or if readers are, in general, just more interested in seeing me write the old Foundation characters and want me to cut to the chase.

Perhaps this dissatisfaction comes in part from how much time I’ve spent in the interim planning out later stories. I worry that the first part of the series won’t gel well with a more thoroughly planned continuation, with my aforementioned pacing issues compounding that problem. I don’t know - maybe Devil’s Advocate is scattershot and unsophisticated. There are parts of this next draft I love but I’ve spun my wheels for months and months trying to get everything to play nice together, and I think that’s how I’m starting to feel about everything. I might not be a good enough writer to make everything work together the best way it can, and I can see the issues but I’m not capable enough to be the solution.

This all makes the issue of my horribly inconsistent schedule much worse. I feel out of the conversation once I stopped updating so regularly, and now it’s going to be a year since I moved the plot of the series forwards with Dead Man’s Party. If I want to pick up steam I need more confidence in my writing to power through it at a more consistent rate, but I don’t know if I can get there. To top it off, I’m worried part 1 of the series does a bad job of grabbing people, the hub page included. I think a lot of the issues I have stem from All Alone on a Friday, as while there are a lot of sections of that tale I still like a lot, the process of getting it out was arduous and killed my long-term motivation, and my output was never the same after it, plus the fact that it sticks out like a sore thumb in the tale order. It’s interminably long and not all interesting or meaningful, so I’m in the position where I have this tale with important scenes that I just want to get rid of.

I’ve been hoping a hub update and a reordering of the tales currently up will alleviate these issues but I don’t know about that anymore. Plus I want to finish this damn draft that’s been hanging over me since June of 2024 and I’ve found the writing process no less agonizing after going to re-outline the tale multiple times. To top it all off I’m scared that all this is going to show in the final product and it won’t very the strong comeback and continuation in think the series needs.

[reddblight]

Hey gang, look an update after a long ass break because life hates me :3

Hope it’s tolerable lmao.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61599160/chapters/165104062

As the steady rhythmic beeping of a large truck in reverse filled the morning air, Seth was trying to fondly recall what it felt like to have a weekend to himself that wasn’t all about moving and apartments. How nice it would be to get back to those eventually. Really, between work all week, the moving, and family events he was starting to get tired of busy weekends.

Hopefully this would be one of his last busy weekends for a while though. Or, at least one of the last ones where he’d have to go out. They were finally moving into the new apartment. All the hard work had led to this moment, a little under a month of planning and coordination and they were finally here!

Seth was brought back to reality by the piercing, high pitched squeal of the moving truck's brakes being hit a little too hard. His hands shot up to cover his sensitive ears, wincing to himself and shooting a half glare at the driver’s side door as it opened and Qingyi slid out. She shot back a blank look of her own. Frankly it was weird seeing her outside of a work capacity and uniform. Seth found himself wondering if she owned her own clothes or if these were on loan because she kinda looked like that really old movie star Adam Sandler in her t-shirt and basketball shorts.

The android walked over to meet the rest of the small group that had gathered to move the boxes up to Seth and Harumasa’s 2nd floor apartment. The group was composed of Seth, Harumasa, Qingyi, Zhu Yuan, and the managers. At this point Seth had grown used to seeing Harumasa in his chosen casual attire which seemed to be mostly made up of loose fitting comfy clothes and his trusty headband, the managers had their usual get ups of course, but seeing Captain Zhu Yuan out of uniform was also a bit strange. She was wearing a pair of high waisted jeans with a white shirt tucked into them and a hoodie was tied around her waist.

Seth looked down to meet Qingyi’s eyes and saw that she was holding out the key to the truck’s storage to him. “Oh, thanks Qingyi.” He took it from her open palm and walked over to the storage doors of the truck. The back of the truck didn’t have too much in it, there wasn't really any big furniture. Mostly it was stuff from Seth’s room and a couple things from Harumasa’s apartment that he couldn’t fit in the Manager’s truck. The hardest stuff they’d have to bring up would be the entertainment center for the living room, Seth’s desk, and his bookshelf. Thankfully the Managers had a trolley they used to stock new films that they brought to help carry bigger things.

Looking back over his shoulder at his friends Seth saw them looking back at him. It was at this moment that he realized he did not know how to best go about all of this. He felt his eyes flit away as he flushed, embarrassed by the expectant eyes on him, tail flicking. He heard a brief chickle from Harumasa and Belle before the former spoke up, “Alright everybody, let's get going. Zhu Yuan, can you help Wise and Belle load up the trolley? Seth, Qingyi, and I can start carrying up the other boxes.”

Belle shot Harumasa a look that Seth was reading as annoyed pouting and Wise chuckled at his older sister. Zhu yuan made her way over to the back of the truck with Qingyi before replying. “Sounds good, let’s get to it.”

Remembering he was kinda in the way, Seth awkwardly shuffled aside from the truck and watched Zhu Yuan and the Managers start loading the small entertainment center onto the trolley. He stood there for a minute feeling slightly useless before his flicking tail brushed against someone’s leg. He flinched in surprise, looking to see Harumasa next to him with a hand hovering over Seth’s shoulder, face a little surprised at his flinch but smirking. “Sorry dude, didn’t mean to make ya jump.”

“Ah! No, it’s not your fault! I guess I just got caught in my own head.” An awkward laugh bubbled up from Seth’s chest, Harumasa chuckling with him. Seth felt Harumasa’s hand settle on his shoulder and untensed a bit. The sunlight bounced prettily off his hair, reflected nicely in his golden eyes… nO BAD SETH! His ears shot straight up, ugh he probably looked like a tomato. A stupid tomato! “Thanks by the way! I uh, I’ve never done this before… you know that already though. God I feel stupid.” Seth was gonna pretend he said that evenly and not all weird and squeaky as he slowly deflated.

“Hey, no need to be all ashamed. We’re all new at something once.” Seth saw Harumasa’s face take on a more genuine grin as he comforted the self berated thiren. “Let me take the lead on this one. I’ve got some experience in moving, and in return you can do me a favor.” Harumasa leaned down a little to meet Seth’s ear, slouched as he was, and moved in closer. He wrapped an arm around Seth’s shoulder and cupped a hand to his mouth whispering, “I’m feeling a bit sore from running around in the hollows, could you take the heavier boxes for me? I’d really appreciate it.”

Now that he mentioned it, Seth could hear something a little more belabored about Harumasa’s breathing than normal. He stood up a little straighter and met Harumasa’s gaze, matching his smile. He was lucky that Harumasa was being so kind, people usually expect a lot of him and he always felt like he was letting someone down. But Harumasa never really seemed to expect more of anyone than he did himself. It was a nice change of pace.

“Of course, that’s the least I could do. Just let me know if you’re having trouble with anything.”

The nice moment the two were sharing was quickly broken though, “Come on guys! Harumasa, stop infecting Seth with your Laziness!” Belle was pointing at them dramatically. Harumasa chuckled and Seth felt mortified as he realized they were letting their friends do all the work.

Qingyi walked out of the back of the truck carrying three boxes, stopping next to Belle and adding, “Come on boy kissers, let’s go. You can stare into each other's eyes once we’re gone.”

Both boys shot straight up, Seth taking a couple steps away from Harumasa and sputtering. He felt as red as a fire hydrant. Harumasa stood quietly, eyebrows furrowed, normally expressive hands down by his sides.

“Qingyi!” Zhu Yuan yelled from the complex door where she and Wise were balancing the entertainment center on the trolley.

The android simply shrugged before walking towards the entrance.

Both men quickly made their way into the truck and began figuring out which boxes to grab first.

The morning passed quickly and Seth could feel the burn in his legs from going up and down the stairs repeatedly. Harumasa had insisted they bring up the kitchen supplies first and then unpack the bathrooms. That made sense to Seth, get the necessities out of the way before any of the extra stuff. The group had taken to stacking any other boxes or furniture in the empty living room to be moved later. Within an hour they had gotten all the boxes from the moving truck up to the apartment and were starting on the more delicate or personal stuff they’d packed into the cars they’d arrived in. Seth carried his computer stuff up from Zhu Yuan’s car and Harumasa and the managers grabbed a few bags and his TV from their truck. By midday all the boxes were in the apartment.

Seth had to help Harumasa on only a couple occasions. Heavier boxes of books or knick knacks were handed over to Seth while Harumasa handled lighter boxes of clothes and took the elevator when possible. Following the lead of the only two people who had ever moved into an apartment (Harumasa and Zhu Yuan), the kitchen was unpacked, dishes and utensils were cleaned, appliances set out onto counters and into cabinets, and any foods or pantry items they could bring were organized.

While the kitchen was being put together by everyone else, Belle and Wise were helping by doing what they did best — handling anything requiring technical know-how. The TV was as simple as arranging the entertainment center at the far end of the North wall, arranging the wiring and hooking up the cable box from Harumasa’s apartment. After the cable box they hooked up the smart TV for streaming —complaining about the death of physical media all the while. Then they moved to Seth’s room, where they worked on Seth’s PC. At one point while Seth and Zhu Yuan were cleaning a blender Belle poked her head out and shouted, “Yo Seth, the wifi here’s kinda slow so Wise and Fairy are gonna work to get you hooked up to our Wifi remotely!”

“Oh shit- thanks!” Seth’s eyebrows shot straight up. The managers were way too kind!

Belle’s smile turned slightly evil as her eyes glinted back at him, “Of course! Can’t have you blame your slow wifi when me and Wise beat your ass in video game tournaments.” Her head darted back into his room and rummaging sounds resumed.

Oh. Okay then. Some mixed motivations there, but nice all the same.

About an hour later the necessities were all set up and the groups split into helping set up the guys' rooms. Seth had Zhu Yuan and Qingyi with him. Zhu Yuan was using her height advantage to help hang shelves and a few posters, asking what Seth wanted to put on the shelves or where certain posters should go. Meanwhile Qingyi had taken to organizing all of his books and comics alphabetically along his bookshelf and in the drawers under it. Seth was putting all the clothes he’d taken from home in his new dresser.

It was kinda nice, his friends quietly helping him settle into a new home. Seth could feel a small smile make its way onto his face as he folded a pair of pants, his ears and tail perking up happily. He was honestly kinda upset when his parents told him they couldn’t help him move, but having his colleagues’ support is really really nice-

“So Seth , what was that moment with Harumasa earlier? You two were standing awfully close, smiling and looking into each other’s eyes.” Scratch that. Qingyi wanted to kill him, she wanted him to fling himself out a window. Peering over his shoulder, Seth met Qingyi’s eyes. She was smirking at him, that shit eating look on her face. His face grew hot, frustrated and embarrassed, his ears flattening and tail flicking.

“Let’s not start. Please.” Zhu Yuan looked over the both of them with pleading eyes. “Qingyi, it’s not our business whatever the case, and Seth, she only does this because you give a reaction.” She sighed and sat on the bed, eyes drifting over to Seth. “Seth, I’m not going to pry, it’s not really my business. But it is nice to see you at least have a good friend in Harumasa. You haven’t really made too many connections at work outside of us, and you’ve been smiling more today than usual. It’s nice that you were helping Harumasa carry things too.”

It was simultaneously very nice and a little embarrassing that Zhu Yuan had noticed so much about him. Honestly Seth tended to be a little frustrated with how easily his emotions were readable because of his Thiren traits, but this didn’t feel like that… “Thanks Captain. It’s, well it’s nice. You guys, Harumasa, the managers; you’re the only ones who look at me and see past my family name. You guys actually bothered to get to know me, not many people have done that before. I appreciate it.”

She met his gaze with a smile, eyes soft. “You’ve worked too hard to just be a last name to us Seth. Right Qingyi?” Their gazes shifted to the bookshelf where she was finishing organizing the comic drawers.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. You do tend to work harder than the other Rookies, and there's a much higher percentile chance that you’ve actually read the protocol manual. Also I like your taste in comics.” Her face didn’t shift from neutral the entire time she said it, but the words still impacted hard.

They sat in that quiet moment for a bit, appreciating the company they were in before they returned to idle chatter and organizing the room to Seth’s specifications.

[wulvercazz]

🤖And Secrets Untold🗝️

A little written-only Android!AU update before the next (and last) art post for the AU💕✨ Hope you enjoyyy

(Previous~)

Some tags; some mild robot gore, murder/murder scene descriptions

Grimmjow didn’t elaborate further after that. In fact, Grimmjow didn’t speak much at all anymore after the memory core lit up in place and flooded the android with the knowledge of a synthetic life lived.

He brooded. Glared at Ichigo when he tried to press further, answered with scoffs and rolls of his eyes when he asked about Professor Jaegerjaquez. It’s definitely not how he expected things to go when he had the idea to search for Grimmjow’s memories in hopes he’d know where to find the genius who created him.

So much for a victory.

“I’m doing this so I can repair you—“ Ichigo huffs out after one more scoff from the droid, his pliers clanking on the table, irritated. “He’s dead, fine, but maybe you can remember who he worked with? If he had a partner then—“

“He worked alone.”

Ichigo’s almost startled when, finally, there’s an actual response from him; “right… well, then… maybe you watched him work? With your kind of memory… anything he may have told you about you is stored somewhere-“

“He told me nothing.”

Grimmjow sure knew how to extinguish any sort of attempt at hope like ice cold water.

“All the old man did was drink and regret ever making me.” It’s the quiet harshness behind his voice, the subtle hue of pain, that once more trouble Ichigo; real enough that they tinge his heart with sorrow for the half-functioning android on his worktable. “Guess he was as disturbed by how not human I am as you are.”

No. No, that’s not it. He’s not disturbed by his ‘lack of humanity’, the contrary, in fact. Terrified that anything this human can exist outside human flesh; so much so that his existance within this room doesn’t fill his home with the empty chill that the mountains of appliances and other androids he’s paid to repair give him.

He’s terrified— because that means either he’s truly lost his sanity to this cold hellhole he calls a home, or what he knows about reality is about to be re-written by an android that should not be possible by nature’s rules. And it’s just now becoming more and more abundantly clear that he’s still, at least, more or less sane; the revelation that Grimmjow’s been quietly attempting to figure out Ichigo’s perception of him, only make his cold white plates and metal bones feel as human as his own.

“Grimm, I don’t— you are-“

“My name code is Grimmjow.”

“Grimmjow, I don’t... feel disturbed by you.” And Ichigo stutters when the android raises an accusatory brow, “n-not the way you think. I don’t know what the fuck was going on through Professor Jaegerjaquez’ mind when he created you — alright? — what I know is… there are no androids like you. You are… more real than anything I ever thought was possible from an android; if he expected anything more than you already are… the guy might as well have wanted to become a god, and he might have already grazed divinity as is.”

Grimmjow’s quiet pondering, and his eyes practically scanning Ichigo’s face bring sudden heat to his face. He’s not sure what exactly he just called the android, but he’s pretty sure it’s something near worship. The android’s eyes close finally, and almost sags in his place, “you’re more of a loser than I thought.”

Eh?

“Hah??” Is the lone indignant sound Ichigo gets out his chest, “I was trying to— you know what, fuck you!”

The small, shit eating grin that curls Grimmjow’s white lips is just as mocking and rude as all he’s ever been since he brought him here; and yet… Ichigo’s never been more entranced by a smile before...

���I said: I can tell you where he worked.” Grimmjow’s tiny brows twitch with annoyance, and Ichigo’s horrified by how welcome Grimmjow’s nasty attitude is in comparison to the quiet brood of before. Clearly, he got lost for a second too long in the implications of a grin for the android’s taste.

“I never left the facility, but I know the coordinates.”

The place Grimmjow’s coordinates point to is not far from where he found him, unsurprisingly; deep in the abandoned foundations of the city where people used to live before that too became unlivable for anyone not filthy rich.

Figuring out which building exactly is the one professor Jaegerjaquez hid out in to do his work, is a challenge in itself. It took him days of going back and forth between buildings with crusty tinted windows, of peeking in cracks of doors jabbed in place by layers of crust and abandoned crap. He finally knew he was in the right place when he peeked inside one last crashed window and saw messy footprints followed by a heavy path towards towards him rubbed off the dust on the floor. He hoped whoever did this, because it was clear now that Professor Jaegerjaquez didn’t die without help, had the decency to take the body with them.

His boots hit the floor with a choking cloud of dust rising around him; Ichigo patted down the bits of broken glass that came off with him when he sneaked inside and tried not to cough the dirt off his lungs too loudly. He lit his work glasses on and pulled out a supporting flashlight to guide him inside, following the tracks left on the dusty ground.

It seems simple enough. Walks in to the rest of the building, past the lonely apartment he came in through, and into another that looks less lonely than the whole structure itself. But the tracks stop here; not enough dust to reveal much of anything.

The place is a mess of papers and empty bottles of cheap alcohol, flies buzzing off dirty dishes that not even the automated washer in the kitchen could ever deal with. It takes everything in him not to gag upon the first breath. The man was… clearly unstable. Grimmjow’s short words in his regard were pretty accurate.

But he wasn’t here trying to solve anyone’s murder, not here to try and understand the madness, but rather what it created, and this.. doesn’t look anything like what he’d expected to find.

Ichigo flashes his light in every direction, to the sweaty, alcohol stained couch and the fly ridden tubs of take-out, to the likely just as dirty bathroom and the crack in the door to what he supposes was the man’s bedroom.

There’s just as much crap littering the room, except, for once, it’s not simply trash and scraps of food. It’s… printed pictures, the type not many people keep anymore these days; dimly lit faces covering the floor and the bed and, upon opening the door, the blood chills in his bones as walls scribbled dark meet his view.

Guilt written with trembling, disturbed, hands scratched on the walls; countless different renditions of “I am sorry” haunting the room, he’s almost afraid to shine a light, but curiosity has him doing just so. Leaning in more to look at the pictures on the bed and realizing, with horrified certainty, that the face repeated on every picture is the same he’s been looking at these past weeks. Different places, stages of life, ones where he is taking the picture himself and ones where someone is taking it for him. There's a healthy tint to his youthful skin instead of clinical white, but they’re all those same blue eyes, same strong jaw and high cheekbones, same blue hair too in the most recent-looking pictures.

What the fuck. What the fuck.

A million horrible ideas running through his head make him stumble back a few steps, like he’d run out the room any second and forget everything about the android and this fucked up place. And he might just, until his stumbling lets him see the disturbed pictures behind the other side of the bed; like the dust in the other apartment, shoved out of it’s deranged, but meticulous, order by something dragged heavily out of— the wall?

His hands fumble with the pictures still blanketing the floor, shoving them this way and that until the dimmest of lights shines through the line where the wall meets the floor; he scratches and nudges at the edge with gloved hands until it catches on and more of that light cracks into the room.

Inside is a mess of equipment, screens and computers crashed on the floor, metallic scratches on furniture toppled over by something with enough strength, or weight, to put clear dents on them too. It’s a violent scene only highlighted by crusted black marks smeared on the floor and dragged all the way to the hidden panel door behind him.

He feels guilty when his brain sighs a calming:  ‘at least there’s no body’.

Ichigo spends a ridiculous amount of time shuffling through broken pieces of metal, attempting to find what little salvageable from the computers’ hard drives, if at all; checking every corner for anything worth something.

There’s not that much hope in his scavenging, nothing stands out to him between all the broken pieces except that there’s nothing near close to what he pulled out of Grimmjow. Not the organ looking pieces of machinery, not the the gut-like cabling or the meat-gel… he’s missing something.

Oh, this man was clever. He clearly wasn’t always deranged and guilt-ridden, he didn’t build Grimmjow at the same time as he was praying to the walls for forgiveness; that came later. The man that worked on Grimmjow’s composition chose too this location and built this hidden laboratory by himself. That man is probably still hiding things. Things that whatever thugs dragged his lifeless body and his creation out of here definitely didn’t find and trash as the rest of these useless piles of junk.

Ichigo turns to the nearest empty wall and begins patting all about the panels of it, pressing and scratching at the seams like he did on the door; pushes an empty rack that’s standing on his way and continues to search the walls. He probably looks insane, and, honestly, for once he’s not worried he’s gone mad; he hasn’t felt this alive in years.

With a satisfactory click, a panel in the wall finally gives, and from the narrow door pulls a quiet android body, laying flat and dead like this is a mortuary drawer.

He’s almost afraid to touch, wondering if this thing will be just as alive as Grimmjow is. Except… the face is all wrong, flat and robotic. nothing like Grimmjow’s tender sculpting; this is but a test. Perhaps Grimmjow was too, but this one does not compare in the slightest; the body is similar, but when he eventually pokes at it he finds himself calming down at he discovery that there’s no power core at all. The mechanical heart missing under the metal ribcage.

It does, however, have all the other parts Grimmjow needs… he’s going to feel a little dirty about performing android grave-robbery, but he’d be a fool to not at least bag as many of its internal components as he can. He’ll figure out how to bring back the heavy replacement limbs another day.

Next~

[kitcat992]

Identity Within︱Moments That Matter: Chapter 12, Wedding Crashers

As Identity Within progresses, I'm finding that each chapter gets more dense and packed with fanficy goodness; and at this point there's not an single soul in the world who can tell me I need brevity in my writing — because for years this saga has played out in my head like movies without a screen to watch them on. And I refuse to shorten things now for the sake of brevity.

That said, with the wild ride that life is taking me on — and with my free time to write killing my speed for updates, I understand there can be a bit of a memory gap for the average reader who doesn't spend every waking moment of her day thinking about this fic like I do 😅

So I decided that as I go about writing, it'd be fun to refer back moments that matter in the next chapter to come.

This story finally has its foundation to stand on, and getting to develop all the plots that were planted as seeds many chapters ago brings me so much excitement. I wanted to share that excitement with you as I write the most recent chapter, "Wedding Crashers."

#Brevity is for the weak.

─────── Identity Theft︱Chapter 8: Afterparty ───────

Before Wanda could say anything, Tony’s voice cut through their conversation — everyone's conversations, all the way from the entrance of the lounge.

“Just got a phone call from the lovely folks over at SHIELD," he announced, his tone betraying the kindness of his words.

As if that weren't enough, Peter couldn't help but notice the grumpy look on his face. He immediately straightened himself on the sofa, his curiosity getting the better of him as the group huddled together across the lounge.

Peter didn't follow them, but he couldn't help listening from where he sat.

“Something tells me they weren’t just checking in," Rhodey mentioned, looking up from his laptop with a frown.

Tony sighed — it was one of the few sighs he gave that could be felt across the compound. If he hadn't caught everyone's attention before, he certainly did now.

"Reports came back on the Awesome Android," he started to say, gesturing his phone in the air before pocketing it away in his back pocket.

“Hey!” Peter never did know when to keep his mouth shut. “You used his name!"

Tony's eye-roll could be seen across the lounge.

"Yeah, kid, well — creature 151963-2861988.27 was a bit of a mouthful.”

“What’d they have to say?” Clint hit this cue stick on the pool table, the echo of balls knocking around overtaken by his voice.

The look Tony proceeded to give Peter was strong enough to burn through steal. His eyes said it all — 'go find something else to do, kid' and Peter didn't waste a minute before turning back to his phone — what he could, anyhow, given that Wanda was now holding it and scrolling through the playlist with a sense of giddiness not even he could match.

Tony purposefully waited until Peter wasn't paying attention before turning back to the group.

“Property of OsCorp," he said, his voice lower than before — but tense, all the same.

Clint's billiard balls rattled against one another as he hit his cue stick again, this time no words following the sound.

Rhodey immediately turned away from his laptop, lowering the screen a tad bit to get a better look at Tony.

“OsCorp?” he repeated, locking eyes dead set on Tony.

“They’re claiming it was an experiment of theirs gone haywire," Tony explained, working his jaw before continuing. "They accepted responsibility, promised to pay the fines — the whole nine yards."

“You buy that?" Bruce hesitatingly put his drink down on the kitchen counter, his brows knitting tightly in the middle. "That — that it was an experiment gone haywire?”

Tony's scoff was hard enough to cause an earthquake. Even Clint hesitated on the next hit of billiard balls, his cue stick pulled back but his arm holding in place as he waited for Tony's answer.

“With OsCorp?” Tony shook his head, firmly. “Hell no. I wouldn’t buy their shit even if it was manure.”

Vision — who had otherwise kept to himself without Wanda around — approached the kitchen with slow, steady steps.

“It is interesting,” he spoke up, his calm demeanor breaking through. The group turned to look at him — sans Clint, who smacked his pool stick with an accuracy that had all balls sliding into the corner pockets. “A creature who has the ability to absorb superhuman powers appears not long after your new device, The Chameleon helmet, has gone missing. Presumably at the hands of a man who could, possibly, teleport.”

When summarized like that, Tony had no choice but to consider the possibility.

A long, low whistle sounded from Sam.

“That’s a lot of coincidences to string together," he said, popping open the cap to a cold beer bottle and tossing the lid into the trash.

Natasha folded her arms across her chest as she stared at Vision, though she looked to be deep in thought more than anything else.

“You think OsCorp is at fault for stealing the helmet, Vis?” she finally asked, quietly — not the only one to ensure Peter didn't hear the conversation.

Vision simply shook his head.

“I do not think so." A long pause followed his next words. "I simply think it is odd. It does not…sit right with me.”

Tony watched from the corner of his eye as Peter sat up from the couch — he was about to say something about him trying to eavesdrop when he realized the kid was taking a phone call, pacing nervously as his hands waved about and he talked frantically to the person on the other line.

“Well, join the club there, buddy," Tony finally said, matching Natasha's own stance with his arms folding across his chest. He turned his head away, forcing his jaw to unclench so he could speak again. “Nothing OsCorp does sits right with me.”

─────── Identity Theft︱Chapter 16: Smoke and Mirrors ───────

Between the fog, dust, and dim lights, Tony almost didn’t notice the open door on his right. He had initially jogged past it, focused straight ahead on the nauseating stream of scarlet.

The faint shimmering glint that reflected in the corner of his eyes ultimately caught his attention. He back-tracked his steps, first looking inside the room before immediately walking to the source, his heavy boots echoing in the vacant space.

"What in the living hell..." his breath lodged in his throat. "Chitauri heads?"

Before Tony had even finished the thought, he was picking up one of the skulls. His eyes narrowed in confusion and disbelief.

It felt as heavy in his hands as it did the day in Brooklyn.

Turning it around, he noticed the dismembered alien head had large gaps on each side. Looking back down on the table he'd retrieved it from, he saw many mechanical wings scattered about.

“What the hell,” Tony cursed out loud, dropping the offensive thing back on the table. The heavy metal landed with a thud, a cloud of dust rising up to his face from the impact.

There were many of them, more than he wanted to count. Most were disassembled from how he originally saw them, the metal wings laying discarded and unused.

Which meant the ones they fought a few days ago…

‘Un-fucking-believeable...they were behind it all,' Tony realized. 'The lured us straight into their trap, and we fell right for it.’

Peter’s encounter in Times Square, the stolen chameleon helmet, the attack on the Brooklyn bridge with the reassembled Chitauri heads — that was them. All of it.

They had this plan in the works long before Spider-Man went into that warehouse.

That damn Russian had been scheming this for months, and what really had Tony’s blood boiling — Dmitri had been doing from inside his business, from inside Stark Industries and the Avengers compound.

Right under his nose.

For all he knew, that was how they got the alien tech. Assuming OsCorp hadn’t already been sitting on it. He could barely keep his hands from shaking, quivering, barely containing the mounting rage as he looked around for any more evidence. His helmet illuminated a large stack of documents, some having fallen on the floor, most cluttered about.

Tony reached for the top stack, straining to read the papers through the flickering lights.

OsCorp Industries: Subject AA 1963 Artificial Intelligence Conducted by: Dr. Julius REDACTED Archives: Subject AA1963 created under the supervision and expertise of Dr. Julius REDACTED. Objective: Create and obtain an artificial life-form. With the use of synthesis ape DNA and REDACTED molecules, SubjectAA1963 was incorporated into an almost indestructible body with a microcomputer and a solar-power source on date REDACTED. Further enhancements successful, SubjectAA1963 has shown to be able to absorb additional abilities such as musical traits and animalistic traits. SubjectAA1963 has been exposed to mutated abilities and mimicked the powers almost precisely. Will emit close-range gale-force wind blasts from its mouth. Portrays signs of superhuman strength and durability. Little to know comprehensions of human life. A collection of nerve ganglia has been installed underneath SubjectAA1963’s left underarm as a fail-safe, where weakness is indisputable in situations of unmanageable temperament.

If the document wasn’t enough proof for him, the pictures behind the pages did the trick. Tony pulled apart the paperclip that attached the numerous, glossy photos to the file folder. 

He shook his head. While OsCorp had taken responsibility for Awesome Android’s attack on the Collar City Bridge, they never had the gumption to say he had been created here. In fact, they all but shrugged the incident away with a wad of cash to the city.

Looking through the rest of the project file, Tony determined they must have taken the creature with them when the government shut down the bunker's operations.

‘Which means OsCorp let the damn rock-monster loose, not Dmitri and Klum.’ Tony tossed the papers aside and hastily skimmed through the next stack with curiosity. ‘What kind of shady shit is Norman Osborn up to.’

Despite his hesitation, Tony flipped through each paper, skimming the crucial words to catch the gist of the reports. Things like clone technology stood out to him, the details horrifying in how they achieved their results.

However, weaponry like flying gliders that contained heat-seeking smart missiles, grenade’s under the code-name Pumpkin Bomb — they, unfortunately, didn’t catch his interest too much. Stark Industries had built their name off of much worse things.

Tony settled on the last bundle of reports.

OsCorp Industries: Adamantium Metal Chemical Element Genesis Conducted by: Dr. Myron MacClain, Metallurgist Materials Science and Engineering, Metallurgical Engineering The department of Materials Science and Engineering and Metallurgical Engineering of OsCorp Industries has been striving for roughly two and a half decades in creating a replica of Vibranium, a metal alloy found only in the North East Africa country Wakanda. Note: All Wakandian’s have been uncooperative in aiding with this research, both under the rule of King Azzuri and King T'Chaka. At the instruction of Norman Osborn, we are to move forward without seeking the approval of King T'Challa. Research first conducted in the attempts to recreate the vibration absorbing effect that Vibranium, further noted as Element Vb, had obtained. Lacking Element Vb to analysis, the genesis of Adamantium, further noted as Element Ad, was conducted without research correlation. Objective: Create a stable molecular structure that is virtually impossible to destroy. Original attempts used the components REDACTED, REDACTED, REDACTED, REDACTED, REDACTED, REDACTED. Final and successful components originate from the metal derived from meteor debris obtained during failed flight trip to Planet Zero. It is hypothesized that the cosmic rays the meteor debris had been exposed to created unbindable ions and metallic polymers. Scientist and provider of the debris Reed Richards has refused to contribute any further to the experiment. Successful completion of Adamantium, Element Ad: Research conducted on Test1838, ie: Final and successful test of Element Ad, proved to be prospering. In its solid form, Element Ad can be described as a dark, shiny gray like high-grade steel or titanium. It is almost impossible to destroy or fracture in this state, and when molded to a sharp edge, it can penetrate most lesser materials with minimal force. Against most objects and force, it has proven to be unbreakable. At current stage of testing, Element Ad has not been trialed against Element Vb. As such, it cannot be labeled as completely unbreakable. Hypothesis: Element Vb will still shatter the metal.

Tony didn’t like what he was seeing, unable to deny the bout of nerves that came fluttering up at the concept of a metal similar to Vibranium. He huffed, tossing the document aside for another one.

‘Adamantium...so, the word adamant. How original.’ There was no way OsCorp was creating a competitor to Vibranium and planning on using it for the good of mankind.

Pushing a couple of Chitauri heads aside, he obtained the last stack of files, brushing off the dust with his metal-gloved hand to better read the information.

OsCorp Industries: Experiment X Program Genetic Research Conducted by: Professor Andre Thorton. Assisting, Dr. Abraham Cornelius, Dr. Carol Hines, and Dr. Dale Rice. Subjects Participating: • Subject James Howlett. • Subject Victor Creed. • Subject Wade Wilson. • Subject Christoph Nord. Program under operation of Department K, location Ontario, Canada. Experiments conducted within REDACTED. Transfer of program to OsCorp Industries, Manhattan, NY : Denied. OsCorp Industries sought approval to assist in program with team of scientist onsite. Awaiting approval from Bio-med and Board of Directors. Archives Adamantium-skeletal bonding: Subject James Howlett, code name: Wolverine. Subject has shown signs of natural mutated physiology in regenerative abilities. Experiment in genetic enhancement of biological skeleton. Process of experiment involving liquidation of Adamantium metal and injection into bone marrow of subject. Methods used: REDACTED. Analysis: Adamantium metal has bonded to organic material. Result: Success. ATTN: Subject Wolverine MIA. Whereabouts: Unknown. Chemically created regenerative abilities: Subject Wade Wilson. Mercenary and assassin, naturally fast reflexes, no known natural mutated physiology. Subject victim to terminal cancer of unknown origin. Experiment in genetic enhancement of regenerative abilities. Objective: Allow neutrophil cells and leukocytes cells to rapidly heal and/or disregard cancerous cells in attempt to achieve longer lifespan. Methods used: REDACTED. Result: In Process. Adamantium-skeletal bonding: Subject Victor Creed, code name: Sabertooth. Subject has shown signs of natural mutated physiology in regenerative abilities, enhanced hearing and sight with primal instincts similar to wild animals. Physical attributes are beyond human levels. Experiment in genetic enhancement of biological skeleton. Process of experiment involving artificial improvements to subject’s physiology, liquidation of Adamantium metal and injection into bone marrow. Methods used: REDACTED. Analysis: Adamantium metal has bonded to organic material. Subject has shown increased strength and accelerated healing factor. Result: Success.

“What the fuck.”

Tony had seen enough. He dropped the documents like they'd caught on fire.

He knew for years now that OsCorp was into some shady shit, they had always been on his radar of competitors to keep an eye on. But this? Aggressive AI’s, generic Vibranium,  inhumane experiments?

It was light years far beyond his expectation —that comprehension didn’t even exist.

If the building wasn’t making Tony's skin crawl before, it certainly was now. But he’d take the information and deal with it later.

Right now, he needed to get Peter, his team and himself the hell out of here. Before anything worse happened.

─────── Identity Theft︱Chapter 29: Breaking the Cycle of Shame ───────

“Hold up.” Tony stopped him, his hand outstretched before he could go any further. “You might want to look a little further in that box first.”

Bent over with the box between both hands, Peter craned his head up at Tony, his brows furrowed. Tony had gone back to staring at the stairway banister, the attempt at managing his discomfort more than obvious.

Slowly and cautiously, Peter sat up straight, letting the box rest against his thighs. The two lapsed into silence as he rummaged around the bundles of red and blue tissue paper, his fingers scraping the bottom of the cardboard. He froze when he finally gripped onto the additional item inside, carefully and slowly bringing it out to see.

It was a sleek, thin black watch — or at least, it looked that way. But there was no case to the band, no circular or even square window where a clock could be displayed and time could be shown.

Peter tilted his head to the side, turning the bracelet over in his hands. “What's this?”

Tony cleared his throat, sniffed his nose in a way that sounded painful, drummed his fingers against the armrest of the sofa — all the things he normally did when uncomfortable. He even went to push up the sunglasses he hadn’t been wearing, his hand smoothing back his hair to cover for the mistake.

“I was inspired by that little Starkbits illusion you had going on,” he eventually explained.

Peter frowned, glancing up at Tony before looking back down at the thin, metal bracelet. He vaguely recalled the memory, most of the details having come second-hand from sources like Mr. Stark and Bruce, the two sharing the story with a hearty chuckle.

Still, those had been high-tech casts for his broken wrists. Bone stabilizing devices, Tony had called them. What could this possibly be —?

“It’s a panic watch, directly connected to me,” Tony answered, as if reading his thoughts. He lifted his arm, showing off the same sleek, black bracelet strapped around his wrist. “So if anything happens to you — earth, wind, rain or shine, you can reach out to me.”

The information floored Peter, his throat tightening in a way that made it hard to speak.

“Wow, this is...I-I don’t know what to say...” his voice cracked, forcing him to swallow hard before looking up at Tony. “Why?”

“Why?” Tony echoed.

Peter quickly shook his head.

“Not that I’m not flattered! Or-or appreciative, ‘cause I am. Like, this is awesome, really. I’m just...confused,” his tone swirled in the same pattern that his head spun. “You can monitor the suit, right? Or is this about that nanite mist in the base? Would this even work with that nanite mist? Or is this —”

Tony held a hand in the air, desperate to stop the rapid-fire onslaught of words.

“I’m going to give this to you straight, Pete. No chaser. You good, you able to handle that?” Tony didn’t even let the kid respond before jumping right back in. “Good, that’s what I thought.”

With one fluid motion, he lifted his arm in the air again, his other hand tapping on his own wrist bracelet.

“This works both ways,” he diligently explained. “It’s not just about me keeping tabs on you — you hit a dead ringer, we got the suit for that. This is for non-Spider-Man business. If you’re in trouble, it reaches out to me. And if I’m in trouble, it’ll reach out to you. I want you to feel a part of the team, to feel safe. And I don’t mean that solely to the physical concern.”

The recognition seemed to hit Peter long before Tony had finished, his eyes clouding over in a way Tony could really only describe as shame. He almost wanted to hit the metaphorical back button, undo what he had said and go back to laughing at stupid bunny ear photos.

And yet Wilson, the naggy little shit he was, pestered relentlessness in his ear that this needed to be done, these things needed to be said.

Peter seemed to take it a like a champ, and exactly how Tony expected him to — by deflecting.

“Oh! That’s — I’m-I’m good, Mr. Stark,” he insisted, still twirling the bracelet in his hands. “I’m fine, really. Everyone’s been, ya know...checkin’ up on me. I’m fine, really.”

Tony nodded, firmly. He pretended not to notice the bob in Peter’s throat, or the way he fidgeted with the bracelet as he fidgeted with anything else he could get his hands on during times of high anxiety.

There was no point in calling him out on it right now — it was his birthday, or so they celebrated the day as such.

Wilson was right, the kid needed to go at this on his own pace. Tony searched Peter’s eyes, those wide, absurdly trusting eyes that stared back at him as if he could solve all the problems in the world.

“That’s okay, that’s great. If you’re fine today, that’s great. But on the days you’re not, I’m here to help. We all are.” Tony dipped his chin low, hand braced against Peter’s arm to gain his attention. “And I’m not the best listener, Peter. But I’m here. I understand.”

The words came out with more ease than Tony ever could have anticipated, much smoother than the numerous practice talks he had with FRIDAY in his lab. He distantly wondered if it was premature to declare how natural this felt for him now, this whole mentor nonsense he took on finally gaining the right trajectory it had needed.

For the sake of not jinxing things, Tony decided to push the thought away. He was just happy the bout of nerves he'd itially felt when beginning the conversation seemed to vanish, or at the very most transfer over to Peter.

The kid nodded with a sense of insecurity pouring through every fiber of his begin.

“Thanks. Really, thanks, that...it means a lot.” Peter’s mouth upturned slightly, his gaze fixed on Tony. “I just...I kinda just want things to go back to normal though. Ya know?”

Tony nodded, patting his arm before pulling away. “Well, that’s going to be kinda hard. What with your training and you staying here on the weekends —”

“Wait, what?” Peter nearly dropped the panic watch, fumbling to gather it back into his hands. “What – what are you talking about?”

“Training,” Tony repeated with a pop of his lips, leaning casually back onto the sofa. “We got to get you up to par with the others. Plus you’re pretty useful in the lab and mentoring you from upstate is just exhausting.”

Peter let out a nervous chuckle, waving him off. “Ah that’s – that’s okay Mr. Stark, you don’t need to do that.”

“I’m sorry, did you think this was up for negotiation?” Tony crossed his arms over his chest and his leg over his other knee. “‘Cause it’s not. You know why? It was all Aunt Hotties idea.”

Peter gaped. He had been home with May for weeks, they had talked about all sorts of things together – he couldn’t believe she hadn’t mentioned this of all things to him yet.

Of course, she was the better of the two of them at keeping secrets.

He rubbed at the nape of his neck, tucking that memory away in his ‘do not access embarrassing moments’ folder.

“I still don’t know if I’m...” his voice oscillated somewhere enthused and uncertain, muttered under his breath while he gnawed on his lip. “Ya know, ready. To be an Avenger.”

Tony patted the back of his hand playfully against his arm.

“Good thing you’re PRN, then. As needed, remember?” He fiddled with the functions to his own watch, scrolling through a couple holographic menus while he spoke. “Plus, you’ve got your quarters here. Can’t let that space go to waste.”

Before Peter could respond, the panic watch in his hands lit up, syncing simultaneously with Tony’s. Both devices chirped, beeped, and blinked a red light before dimming away with soft blue, eventually returning to their sleek black state altogether.

Peter grinned, eagerly strapping it around his own wrist. It fit perfectly, snug yet comfortable. He couldn’t help but think about how much Ned was going to flip when he saw this.

“Consider it partial custody, kid,” Tony said, hand clasping on his shoulder. “You’re ours now.”

Peter looked up at him, all smiles.

Tony smiled back, at least until his eyes focused away from Peter and to the doorway behind him. Despite his best efforts, the grin fell off his face when Rhodey came walking into the common room, dressed in his military blues with his cap tucked underneath his arm.

“Hey,” Tony said, never once looking away from the doorway, “you mind grabbing me a piece of cake before Hawkeye over there becomes an endangered species at the hands of diabetes?”

Peter nodded, still fascinated with his new wrist device to notice anything was amiss. He departed for the kitchen and Tony shot up from the sofa, quick to cross the path of the room where Rhodey stood.

“Looking handsome as ever, Honey Bear,” Tony complimented, motioning with a casual wave to the crisp, iron-pressed military blues Rhodey wore. His demeanor, however, grew serious. “What’d you find out?”

Rhodey loosened his black tie a smidgen, shaking his head. “C’mon, Tones. Not here, not in front of the kid.”

Still staring at Rhodey, Tony lifted his hand and snapped his fingers to the side, right as Wanda walked by. The girl was carrying a plate overloaded with food, surely for Peter.

“Wanda,” he turned to look at her, “do us a favor?”

His eyes did the talking for him. He looked from Wanda to the kitchen where Peter stood, busy talking with Vision.

She opened her mouth in protest, but got the hint rather quickly. Though less than pleased, she nodded and retreated towards the kitchen to keep Peter distracted.

Rhodey’s eye twitched in a way only Tony’s incessant annoyance could cause. “You have the patience of a toddler.”

“While I don’t disagree with you on that particular observation,” Natasha approached them, her expression solemn. “I have to admit I’m eager myself to hear what the bastards had to say.”

Rhodey and Tony looked to their left, Natasha taking long strides in her walk with the entire group hot on her tail, even Steve having rejoined. They converged together towards the room’s entrance in a clearly unconspicuous way.

Steve shot a look into the kitchen, eyebrows dipping in worry. Though Wanda seemed to be doing a decent job at distracting Peter, he knew the whole enhanced-hearing deal made it difficult for private conversations. Plus, even he could feel the strung-out, high electricity tension building between them all.

Peter was a smart kid, there was no keeping him in the dark for long.

“Guys, we should discuss this at a later time,” Steve pressed.

“You’re right,” Tony said, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re absolutely right, we should definitely discuss the nitty gritty details at a later time. But for now — and please pardon my impatience building on the anticipation of the United States Air Force weapons procurement liaison division filing a subpoena against OsCorp industries so that they could explain, on the record, how their increasingly dangerous experiments are justified under research standards — I’d like to hear what the court had to say.”

Rhodey bit back his response, all the eyes staring his way putting him at a brief loss. Even Bruce was seemingly curious for an answer.

Though he wanted to say something about Tony expending all the air that inflated his ego down to his lungs for such a ramble, Rhodey instead let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“The case was thrown out. It’s in their favor.”

Tony physically balked, his body practically jolting forward. “What do you mean it’s in their favor?”

“That’s messed up,” Clint muttered.

Tony shook his head. “You’re telling me I get grade-a shit for building the Iron Man armor and yet these ass-wipes are free to create sentient beings like the damn rock android, no repercussions whatsoever? Not to mention SHIELD knew they were performing highly illegal experimentation’s like Klum’s teleportation abilities and the flying Chitauri heads. How —”

Rhodey held two hands in the air. “The judge declared that the indictment we sought out doesn’t have grounds for reason. OsCorp claims they’ve reconstructed their projects into a more educational stand-point.”

Bruce scoffed. “Gotta give them points for thinking on their feet,” he said, removing his glasses to clean the lenses with the bottom hem of his shirt.

“That’s horse shit,” Tony hissed. “You can’t just slap an ‘educational’ sticker on something and call it a day.”

Rhodey nodded. “I don’t disagree. But they have a valid point, we don’t have ground to stand on. Everything we have against them is mostly hearsay, those documents you found are word of mouth. No solid evidence.”

“Tony has a point,” Natasha chimed in, ignoring Tony’s exaggerated look of shock towards her agreement. “What about the rock android nearly destroying the Collar City Bridge, or the reassembled Chitauri heads that blew a hole near Main Street Park? That should be enough cause for concern.”

Clint winced, half-shrugging. “Think about it, though. The most damage those freaky flying Chitauri heads managed to do was blow up St. Annes, which was already an abandoned building.”

“Yeah, thanks to us,” Sam reminded them, his tone indignant. “We contained that catastrophe before it blew up all of Brooklyn Heights.”

Bruce slid his glasses back onto his face. “And OsCorp proceeded to pay the damages and fines caused by Awesome Android. Not to mention, SHIELD still hasn’t come out and said one way or the other who stole and reassembled the Chitauri heads.”

“Rhodey and Bruce are right.” Steve sighed, his chin low to his chest. “According to Doctor Strange, Francis Klum was sent to another dimension. And we all know what happened to Dmitri. They’re getting away with this on the same grounds we got away with lying to SHIELD about the undersea bunker rescue mission. There’s no proof.”

Rhodey pessimistically nodded, no happier than the others at what he had to say. “Scientific research. That’s what they’re calling it. Nothing they’re doing right now can be deemed illegal.”

“But risky,” Peter spoke up.

Everyone turned to look at him, all seemingly at once.

Peter had stepped forward, Wanda not far behind. Her expression fell guilty, silently speaking an apology to Tony for not being able to hold him back.

Even if he wanted to, Tony didn’t have time to berate her. Steve was already crossing the path to the kitchen, failing stupendously at acting nonchalant.

“Hey, champ, why don’t you —”

“My class went on a field trip there. To OsCorp.” Peter came closer to the threshold, fingers fidgeting together. “They uh, they are actually...pretty educational. Showed us a whole bunch of stuff. Regenerative cloning of animal limbs, unlimited solar energy, bio-cable mechanisms…radioactive spiders.”

Tony shot his head over fast enough to give himself whiplash.

Steve froze in his steps, head cocking to the side at the realization. “That’s how you got your abilities.”

Peter nodded, the small movement timid and jerky. “One of them got loose. Bit me.”

Tony’s jaw clenched painfully tight, the words giving him pause.

“OsCorp gave you these powers?”

The unwelcome bitter edge that coated his question had Peter suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Even from the distance they stood, Tony’s barely contained anger emitted a heat only matched by his sharp glare.

Peter knew he wasn’t directly mad at him, yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty nonetheless.

“The spider they were experimenting on did, anyway,” he explained shyly, head down low. “It’s uh...it’s dead now.”

The conversation died out briefly, a blanket of tense silence piercing through the room.

─────── Identity Within︱Chapter 3: R.S.V.P ───────

“Oh my, my, yes, it’s been…it’s been quite the few months, for sure. A lot of preparation has gone into this, many things occurring behind the scenes — and now that OsCorp has reached the point of publicizing this announcement, well…I won’t lie, it’s a bit of a burden off the back.”

As Peter threw open the front door to the apartment, the first thing he heard was the distant voices coming from the living room television. It was at a volume that told him May wasn’t really paying attention, just using it for background noise. Yet it was loud enough that it reached over her struggle with pots and pans all the way inside the kitchen, and certainly quick to grab his attention.

Anything OsCorp related had a tendency to do that these days.

Peter hadn’t even crossed the threshold of the front door to living room when he looked over at the TV, frowning deeply.

“But of course, things are just beginning. We have a long future to look forward to, one that’ll far exceed my time on this earth.” The voice of the man sounded professional, each word said with a sharp precision and clarity to his statements. “It’s all about legacy, after all. And the Osborn dynasty has yet to untap their full potential in what lays ahead. I’m excited to be apart of these unfolding developments with them.”

Whatever channel was playing, Peter quickly deduced it was a news station. Something where someone was being interviewed — an old man, that much was obvious. He wore a business suit that Peter was sure cost five times May’s rent, and his grayish white hair matched perfectly with the deep wrinkles that dug harsh lines into his skin.

And yet, despite talking about OsCorp, the man was most definitely not Norman Osborn. Peter wasn’t sure he’d actually ever seen him before. Granted, he never paid much attention to these things until recently, but still.

He approached the back of the sofa, watching the TV and moving almost in a trance. So much so that he completely forgot his laundry detergent soaked socks were still gripped in his hand, and his bare feet still sticky with the residue they’d encountered.

“You sound quite optimistic about the longevity in OsCorp’s future, Mr. Symthe,” the interviewer said, his tone as serious and straitlaced as the much older man sitting across from him. “Does this mean you’re not worried about the dissolution of partnership with Bio-Labs? Their upstate, New York facility alone brought in OsCorp over thirty percent of their shares and profits last year.”

The man being interviewed gave a light chuckle — Spencer Symthe, Peter discovered, right as the lower third graphic appeared on the screen, displaying his name in whole.

It also gave him a title. Peter furrowed his brows as he quickly read it. Right next to his full name were the words, Co-chairman.

The man may have not been Norman, but there was no doubt that he was right up there in hierarchy.

“Last year is behind us, OsCorp looks only to the future,” Spencer simply answered, as smoothly as the words that came before him. “Bio-Labs served us well in the past, but OsCorp is moving forward with their endeavors in other ways. We have something quite exciting happening here very soon. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details just yet, but our separation with Bio-Labs has made way for something far better. Both for us and for mankind.”

The interviewer looked down at his lap and the sleek notepad in his hands. “Is it true OsCorp purchased that facility from Bio-Labs?” he read off his notes.

“We did, yes,” Spencer answered so quickly, the camera didn’t cut to him until mid-sentence. “We came to an agreement with Bio-Labs on a price, and OsCorp is hoping to utilize the facility for further expanding their research studies across the east coast.”

Peter suddenly looked left and right, and then down to the sofa — finding the TV remote stuck in-between the armrest of the cushions. Discarding his socks, he grabbed the remote and hit the first button his thumb could get a hold of. It displayed the title of the show over the screen — ‘Executive Insights with Mark Mitchell.’

“There’s been…quite the controversy regarding those research facilities, Mr. Symthe,” Mark Mitchell, Peter correctly assumed, went on to say. “I’m sure you’re more than aware of the legal trial that took place this afternoon — any comment?”

Slowly, Peter dropped the remote down onto the end table next to the couch. All the while, he never looked away from the TV.

“Ridiculous claims made by ridiculous people.” Spencer waved his hand right alongside his answer. “Despite his rank in the air force, I assure you that Colonel Rhodes has no interest in the safety of this country. He sides with his interest and his team alone — that is, the Avengers. The only people we seem to allow to live above the law.” For a man who had kept his tone even and unwavering, there was a slight hitch in words that heated them up, something Peter couldn’t ignore. He suddenly sounded frustrated, angry. To the point where a pause followed, and he noticeably cleared his throat. “These claims made by him and subsequently, the team he participates with, are as foolish as they are deranged.”

Mark simply nodded. “It’s been no secret that Stark Industries very own Tony Stark has been pushing this case, advocating for the entire revocation of OsCorp’s funding and participation with the Institutional Review Board. He states that compliance with regulatory requirements have been, in his words, the biggest disgrace to not only the field of science but to humanity as a whole.”

“And yet Judge Whittaker has made it very clear today that he disagrees with those claims,” Spencer answered the question that had yet to be asked. “Tony Stark’s efforts to shut down OsCorp have been nothing but a blip on our radar. The court system sided with us on that today, making it very clear that there’s no grounds to the absurd accusations put forth by rumors and heresay.”

Mark cocked his eyebrow high, and so did Peter. Both of them for different reasons. “Is that your way of saying OsCorp’s research studies haven ’t been neglecting proper codes and regulations, and remain to demonstrate due diligence in maintaining public safety standards for both their participate and employees? ”

“By all means, yes,” Spencer easily answered. So easily, Peter went to fold both arms over his chest, the look that pulled at his face causing lines he was far too young to be dealt with. “If all goes well, the former Bio-Labs facility will be up and running within a few months, once converted into one of OsCorp’s technological facilities. And it’ll foster not only the community and development of science careers, but also expand the boundaries of research to pave the way for a brighter tomorrow.”

─────── Identity Crisis︱Chapter 6: Devil in the Details ───────

Norman neatly stacked the documents aside. “You’ve been Harrison's friend for a while, Mr…?”

“Parker. Peter Parker, sir.” Peter set his hands low into his lap. “And...yeah, sort of. But not really. We —”

“Were you that disabled boy Harrison would bring to the house?” Norman never looked up from the papers as he spoke. “The one in the wheelchair who drooled a lot?”

Peter blinked, digesting the question.

“No sir, I’m...I’m pretty sure that was David Kemp,” he paused, fingers tight in their cupped hold. “I’m also pretty sure that kid is...dead now.”

Norman made a noncommittal sound, his one and only response to the short-lived conversation. His eyes never broke away from the surface of his desk, staring intently at stacks of papers while simultaneously sorting through others.

Peter briefly wondered – if he’d got up and left this very second, would the man even notice? Considering he had already tested his luck once already, he decided to stay seated.

As it was, he was really pushing his Parker luck today.

Restless and nervous, Peter began looking around the comfortably sized room, taking in details of things he hadn’t first observed. It was interesting how much less modern the office was designed. While all of OsCorp remained contemporary, Norman’s office was...well, not.

Peter wasn’t quite sure what to call it, what the word would be. ‘Old’ came to mind, though he supposed it could be called ‘traditional’ as well. There was a lot of wood — covering the walls, his desk, and bookcases. While every other room in OsCorp was bright, contemporary silver and sleek, Norman’s office was the opposite. It was full of deep, rich colored tones that were barely highlighted under the dim yellow lights, what in all terms should have created a cozy environment, elegant and relaxed.

Yet the heavy smell of cedarwood and leather had Peter on edge, tying knots tightly in his gut. There was also some cologne heavy in the air, one he’d never encountered before. It was strong, oily. A stuffy, musky aroma that coated his nostrils — too strong, bordering on overwhelming. Peter didn’t like it.

He also couldn’t help but notice that the walls were covered in diplomas, certificates; flaunting his PhD, his CEO credentials — everything formal, everything professional.

Not one family photo was in sight.

“You into journalism?”

Norman’s voice brought him back to the present moment. Peter snapped his head over, realizing that the man was talking to him. An uneven breath momentarily stole his response. He wasn’t too sure why — he wasn’t typically this awkward, this uncomfortable. But there was something odd about the way Norman would look at him. Straight in the eyes, unfaltering, unrelenting.

Peter didn’t like that, either.

When he didn’t answer right away, Norman nodded towards the camera hanging at his hip.

“Uh, not really, no,” Peter stammered out. “I...more like photography.”

Norman leaned back in his chair, the slightest creak resonating in the room. “I don’t often see children of your age casually carrying around the highest tech on the market for their...selfies. You must really have a passion, Mr. Parker.”

“I suppose,” he managed. “I’m, uh, I’m more into science, though. Chemistry and stuff.”

Norman hummed. “So you’re an intern here at OsCorp.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “No! No, I’m —”

“Stark caught you first.”

A humorless smile crept on his lips, the kind that showed no teeth, no genuine contentment. Peter’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion, and Norman nodded again, this time to the watch wrapped around Peter’s wrist.

“If you don’t want people to know, I would recommend not wearing his tech.”

Peter did a quick glance down, immediately going to stuff his hand inside his jean pockets.

“Right,” Peter muttered, cursing under his breath. For being so noticeable, the stupid nanotech felt like a second skin — one he kept forgetting he was even wearing. “I’m uh, I have an internship there. With Stark Industries.”

Norman titled his head to the side, indulging himself in interest.

“What is it that you do?”

Peter bit his bottom lip, suddenly wishing for the uncomfortable silence to return.

“I’m a, uh...I assist in their Science and Technology division,” he scrambled to think on top of his feet. “Mainly in, uhm...engineering and uh...chemistry.”

Peter held back his grin, proud of how quickly he had come up with that one. And hey, it wasn’t totally a lie. Using Mr. Stark’s labs for the tech in his suit was totally engineering, and he was constantly working new chemistry equations with reinventing the chemicals in his web-fluids.

But, still. He made a mental note to talk with Tony about doing something to make this internship look real. Especially now that Norman OsCorp of all people was calling him out on it. Hell, even a photo would do. Something.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Norman carried on, his hands folding methodically on the top of his desk. “A boy as smart as yourself could do some impressive work with us here at OsCorp. You should consider attending open house, see what we have to offer.”

“I have, sir.” The words were out of Peter’s mouth before he realized it. His eyes shot wide, his brain quickly working to backtrack. “Something similar, anyway. My class went on a field trip here a few years back.”

Norman perked up, his eyebrows dangerously close to disappearing into his hairline.

“Field trip, you say? We haven’t opened doors to one of those in quite some time now. The company stopped after an...unfortunate loss of research.” Norman cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in the high back, executive styled chair. “The public relations department decided it’d be best not to increase any likelihood of students getting hurt because of our inventions.”

The room fell so quiet that Peter was sure he could hear a pin drop, without his enhanced hearing. His spine stiffened, his face failing to conceal his rising panic.

“What-what research was lost?”

Norman’s eyes flittered up to his, a moment of deliberation etching across his features in the beat that followed. It seemed he was debating on whether or not he should provide an answer, if it was in his best interest to start such a discussion over what Peter knew had to be sensitive information.

With or without an explanation, Peter had the answer.

He knew it sat directly in his DNA.

“Our one and only success with genetic modification,” Norman finally explained. “All the testing was performed on one solitary spider.”

Peter didn’t break eye contact with him, not even as his foot taped incessantly on the floor — tap tap tap tap taptaptaptaptaptap growing more and more unremitting.

“Oh, uh, nothing...nothing like that happened on my field trip.” His throat spasmed, his nerves getting the best of him. “It was smooth sailing. Actually, it was kind of boring.” Peter realized a second too late what he had said. If it were possible, his eyes grew even wider. “Not-not that this place is boring! Not at all, no, it was just...that day was boring. I think. I was tired? It was a long day and you know, I actually wasn’t here for most of it, I got in trouble and had to stay on the bus and —”

“It’s just interesting to me,” Norman interrupted. His face was pinched in thought, clearly paying little to no attention to Peter’s rambling. “We lost that spider and...not even six months later there’s a new vigilante on the streets of New York. Calling himself...low and behold — Spider-Man.”

Suddenly, every hair on Peter’s body stood up straight, in a way he knew was most certainly not his spider-sense. They felt like knives across his skin, sharp-edged goosebumps that ran deep into his muscles.

“That’s a...big coincidence, sir.”

The way Norman smiled at him — all lip, no teeth — it had Peter’s breath quickening in his chest. He didn’t understand what it was; there was nothing inherently threatening about the man, perhaps a bit intimidating, even unnerving. But certainly nothing threatening.

Yet there was a sense of anxiety Peter couldn’t shake, a feeling of unease threading deep into his core.

“Coincidences mean you're on the right path. Simon Van Booy.” Norman leaned back in his chair, settling his folded hands across his stomach. “My wife’s favorite book, and the last she would read.”

Peter’s eyes fluttered to the floor, memories of his childhood suddenly slowing down his racing heartbeat and hasty breathing. He remembered Harry’s mom — didn’t know for long, barely ever saw her to begin with, but he definitely saw her more than he ever saw Norman.

Norman had always been like a ghost in Harry’s life. Mentioned, never seen.

Mrs. Osborn though — Peter remembered her as being a very nice woman, sweet as ever, genuinely kind. It was without any doubt where Harry got most his personality from. Uncle Ben had been the one to take him to the funeral; May having been tied up with something else. He remembered hugging Harry tighter than ever that day. They ended up seeing each other again a few more times, casually, never outside of school. It wasn’t long after Harry was transferred upstate, right at the start of high-school.

A few months after that and Ben had been shot.

Harry didn’t attend that funeral.

Their own tragedies seemed to pull them apart instead of bring them together. Peter wished it had been different.

“You much on history, Mr. Parker?”

The question caught him off guard. Peter looked up, swallowing hard.

“Uh, no, sir. I’m actually...struggling a bit in that area. But Harry’s —”

“Did you know that the first recorded mention of cancer came around 1600 B.C. Egypt? A lot of people don’t know that,” Norman mused aloud, his tone cool, contemplative. Whether or not Peter showed interests in his discourse mattered not. Norman continued on, “They think cancer came along with cigarettes and food preservatives. They think we brought cancer on ourselves as a plague...a plague of modern society. But it’s always been there...since man first figured out how to poke and prod itself — it’s always been there.”

Peter felt frozen in his seat, muscles all but paralyzed, as if he was worried any movement would disturb the sudden conversation that had uprooted from Norman.

He listened intently, expression fixated.

“Then you skip ahead to Greece and Rome,” Norman waved a hand about, “Sure, doctors, Hippocrates and Galen lifted their ideas of medicine from magic and superstitious nonsensical suppositions. But it was the Hippocrates who named it. They named it cancer; karkinoma in Greek because a tumor looked like a crab. Karkinoma.”

The words floated in the air like an afternoon lecture, practiced and perfected, studied to a tee.

“And slowly but surely we got a better understanding of human anatomy. Then better technology. Better microscopes...then comes better understanding of cell structure.” Norman's fingers played idly across the armrest of his chair as he explained, “Chemical carcinogens, diagnostic techniques, chemotherapy...and before we know it, oncology is a science. You like science, don’t you, Mr. Parker?”

Peter felt a chill work down his spine as he stared at the man, so casually going on about something that felt incredibly out of the blue. He frowned, his eyebrows tugging down.

“Yes, sir,” he managed, distantly but acutely wondering where exactly is this going?

Norman met his eyes for the first time since he began speaking.

“Our understanding and treatment of cancer has evolved greatly in the last few decades thanks to science, massively in the past era. But we’re still not there yet, are we?” He shook his head, answering his own question, “No, we’re not. And that’s where OsCorp comes in, where we try to bridge the gap between society’s apathy and failure to push onward to greater achievement.”

Norman adjusted himself stiffly in the chair, sitting up straight and leaning closer to the desk that separated him and Peter.

“I’m not sure what Stark Industries is doing these days, outside of designing the most outlandish, sensationalist costumes for their above-the-law vigilantes. But I can, and will, speak for myself and for this company.” Two fingers tapped firmly on the wooden desk. “We’re one step away from creating a cure for cancer, one for all of mankind to revel in.”

It took a moment of pause for Peter to register what Norman had said, for the words to truly sink in. When they did, his eyes widened, his jaw slowly un-working from the tense hold it had been locked in.

“Really?” Peter gaped. “A-a cure for can —”

“The theory isn’t a new one,” Norman went on to say. “The human body carries within itself the ability to create everything it needs to function. Everything it needs to fight off any disease, to starve off any cancer. You see, this treatment...it’s better, wiser. A genetic bodysuit that would temporarily take hold of a patients biology, find out what their body needs, and then find a natural solution. If a cancer has spread — a tumor — the suit would search the body for the right natural toxins, find solutions on the patients own body chemistry, and put them to work. No radiation, no poison, no destruction of your own immune system. This would find cancer, diagnose it, and kill it. The ultimate natural medical treatment.”

Norman’s timing was precise, as if he wanted just a mere split second to pass before speaking again, just enough time to let the awe and wonderment spread across Peter’s features.

“It’s a shame, though,” he leaned back in his chair, hands settling into his lap once more. “Many people will die before we can get it off the ground.”

Peter blinked, eyelashes fluttering as he failed to veneer his confusion. “Why?”

Something odd crossed along Norman’s face. Not quite hesitance, not quite distrust. Yet the difference wrought was noticeable, tangible.

For a brief second, Peter wondered if it could possibly be desperation.

It was gone before he could even question it.

“That spider we spoke of contained the genetic material needed to go any further. And unfortunately it, along with all its data, is lost to us.”

With a rushing gravity that didn’t exist, Peter felt his stomach drop five feet below where it was supposed to be. The feeling was so intense that breathing suddenly became a task he didn’t have the coordination for.

Especially not as Norman stood up from his chair, walking the distance between them to sit on the edge of his desk.

The smell of musky cologne became stronger, overpowering, coating his nostrils in the scent that shot his nerves. Norman sat directly across from him, looking down. And Peter gulped as he looked up, watching the man adjust the tie hanging around his neck. Two wrinkles on his white button-down, nothing more.

“With all that said, Mr. Parker, I must ask...” Norman stared sat him, unblinking, for a long time. “If that spider was lost on the day of your tour, would you have any clues as to...what may have transpired?”

It was a subconscious instinct to grab his hand, unintended, one that neither of them noticed until it was too late. Peter rubbed the skin near his wrist before promptly letting go.

“I’m sorry, sir. I was...” Peter timidly shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Norman arched one an eyebrow high on his forehead, the other staying low as he stared at Peter. Slowly but surely, he forced a tug at his lips, a weak endeavor at a grin.

“That’s quite alright. My bio-organic chemistry department is already working hard on replicating the genetic material,” Norman said in a carefully measured voice, his eyes looking beyond Peter, seemingly far off. “It’ll simply take...time.”

Peter swallowed again, his throat tight from the heavy aroma whiffing off Norman’s blazer jacket. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it immediately, unsure of what he would even say. Besides, what more was there to say? ‘Sorry for being the thing that put a stop to your cure for cancer. Try and keep your spiders in better cages next time.’

Suddenly full of guilt, or shame — or a combination of both — Peter looked away, unable to handle the expression on Norman’s face. He couldn’t lock down what it was; worry maybe, or something more akin to frustration. Whatever it was, it wore heavy on his face, etching deep into the tired lines around his eyes and lips.

Around the same time, Norman stood up straight, putting distance between himself and the desk, and subsequently Peter.

“On that note, please, think twice about where you’d like to spend your free time. OsCorp has a lot it could offer you, and even more the other way around.” He neared back around to his chair, gesturing his open palm out towards Peter. “Tony Stark, well...he’s a careerist, son. Everything he says and does is in a way to advance only himself. You’re getting paid, correct? Perhaps we could discuss wages to try and sway your opinion.”

“Uh, no, sir. I’m...” Peter shook his head with jerky movements, the bob in his throat working up a storm as he choked out, “I’m not getting paid at all. Just...happy for the experience.”

Half-way into sitting back down in his chair and Norman paused, his eyes latching onto Peter’s for a brief moment. An audible ‘hm’ bounced between them, gone once the creak of leather took its place.

“Well...regardless, the offer remains to stand.” Norman leaned back, hands folding neatly into his lap. “Know your worth, Mr. Parker.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he nodded. He wasn’t sure if he even managed something remotely close to a nod, the muscles in his neck stiff and hard, the tension in the room thicker than the awful smell of rich cologne and furnished wood. His focus remained taunt, noticing how something seemed to dripped in Norman’s tone — insidious, sticking to Peter like glue.

Five knocks was all it took to tear him away from that one thought.

“Dad?” A door slowly creaked open. “Cindy said that you called for me —”

Harry stood in the doorway, polite caution thrown out the window at the sight of Peter sitting across from his father. His eyebrows flew up, his eyes widening twice their size.

“Pete! Jeeze, there you are. Where the hell did you go? How’d you —” He quickly looked to Norman, his face all but paling at the realization of what he had walked in on. “How’d you end up in my father’s office?”

─────── Identity Theft︱Chapter 19: When the Bad Things Happen ───────

Sitting next to him, Natasha had locked her gaze on Bruce, never taking her eyes off him throughout the discussion. If she hadn’t been looking directly at him, she would have sworn that she heard the man talk.

‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ rang in her ears, words that he never actually spoke, a personality normally so predictable faded underneath the stress of the situation.

It disturbed her how quiet Bruce had been. It disturbed them all. He was usually one to pitch in with giddy enthusiasm about how this type of technology functioned, proceeding to bore the team with details that they never asked for and could never understand.

Instead, he sat quietly, chin in the palm of his hands and elbows on his knees.

Natasha’s brows pulled together, concerned. “Bruce?”

His head snapped up, as if he now suddenly remembered where he was. Bruce looked at her, the deep lines across his face echoing her exhaustion.

Almost immediately he bowed his head again, taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just...” Bruce heavily sighed, “this is bad.”

Wanda leaned forward, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. “How bad?”

“His blood is...well, it’s mutated,” Bruce said. “Beyond what’s compatible with any other cross-match. On the surface he still has a normal B positive blood type, but beneath that it...it’s more. The antigens and protein markers have been so abnormally altered by that spider bite that he’s...he’s essentially developed an ABO incompatibility.”

Sam was the first to catch on. “He can’t receive blood.”

Bruce nodded. Clint audibly cursed under his breath, and Rhodey scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s...incredibly unfortunate in the current situation, but yes. We had to stop transfusing the universal O negative to prevent a hemolytic reaction,” Bruce explained.

Natasha stayed neutral. “So what now?”

Steve sat up a little straighter. “Doesn’t he have accelerated healing?”

“Yes,” Helen simply answered. “And that healing factor has certainly kept him alive this long.”

“Where’s the but?” Clint asked, arms crossed and all but rolling his eyes.

Bruce didn’t seem to have the willpower to answer the question. The tension grew twice as thick between them, and Steve was silently appreciative when Helen finally took over.

“He can only regenerate so fast. With his injuries, with the hypovolemia...he spent days dehydrated, malnourished — his body needs twice as much intake as that of a normal individual, and consequently he loses it twice as fast,” she explained. “It’s not as if he’s been stripped of his healing factor. It’s that his body is simply too weak and injured to utilize it.”

Rhodey leaned into the side of the couch, his temple resting between two fingers that rubbed at his forehead. He appeared to be able to keep up with the medical details up until now. It was typically the case for him though, superpowers always had a tendency to complicate things.

“So what does all that mean?” he asked.

Bruce put his glasses back on. “Think of it like a muscle. It takes energy to use. The hematology department has a theory — one I’m inclined to agree with — Peter used a lot of strength in just trying to stay alive. It’s not a...pleasant thing to think about, but his body more than likely went into hypovolemic shock multiple times. A normal person loses a certain amount of blood, they go into shock and if not treated, their heart gives out. Peter's body lost a certain amount of blood, fell into shock and began to regenerate the blood that was lost, until it couldn’t anymore. And then the process repeated.”

His hands spun and twisted around each other, mimicking a moving wheel.

Natasha frowned. “Until now.”

Steve didn’t need to see Bruce nodding to know the answer. He felt the cushions of the sofa lighten as Natasha stood up, her only response being that she walked away from the group. By the time Steve looked up, she was standing across the room and over the stairway banister.

They all knew her well enough to leave her be.

“I would like to reiterate what I said before,” Helen cut in. “By all accounts, he should be dead. He’s hanging on by the skin of his teeth but...he’s hanging on.”

Steve really didn’t know what to say to that. Of course the kid was hanging on. He was a hell of a fighter, a soldier beyond what they could have ever expected.

He was also just a kid.

“We’re not soldiers,” Tony had once told him, the words resonating in his ears. 

Steve was starting to agree with that sentiment.

─────── Identity Crisis︱Chapter 30: All In the Family ───────

“Even the whole time I was at Mr. Osborn’s place, something felt...off,” he said instead, turning his eyes down to the metal floor of the jet. His tennis shoes squeaked as he readjusted himself on the bench. “It was weird.”

“How so?”

The voice didn’t come from Tony.

Peter looked up, straightening his back the moment he saw Natasha walking towards them both. The rest of the conversations taking place in the jet must’ve not been interesting enough for her, because she approached the two quietly, her feet making no sounds as she stepped forward.

Peter was caught between being surprised that she was suddenly in his face, and learning how not to be surprised when she was suddenly in his face.

Spies. What a weird thing.

“I dunno,” he answered, honestly, sitting up until his back pressed against Tony’s arm. “It wasn't weird at first. At least not until Mr. Osborn came home.”

It was Tony’s turn to pull away from Peter, and he didn’t waste an ounce of strength doing it.

“You saw him?” Tony’s eyes were wide enough to replace the turbofan’s of the Quinjet. “Norman? You saw him — again?”

Peter made a very distinct sound that contained absolutely no words and all sass.

Tony threw him a look that said no words and was all exasperation.

“Well, yeah, Mr. Stark,” Peter started to say, that sass leaking right into his defense. “It was his place, why wouldn’t —”

Tony rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I assumed you —”

“It was only for like, a minute. Two, maybe. Three! Tops!” Peter adjusted himself on the bench, turning to better face Tony. “I was about to leave — seriously, I left right after he came home. We said a few things —”

“What things?” Natasha’s words came with a few steps forward, hard pressed against the floor. Peter didn’t like how he could hear them this time around. “What things were said?”

Both set of eyes from both adults bored into him like a hot laser beam — it could’ve been Iron Man’s repulsors and Peter wouldn’t have questioned it. He almost shied away, because — ‘damn, third-degree much?’

As it was, Peter was too busy trying to remember the encounter for any tongue-in-cheek remark. It wasn’t his fault that the last few weeks — months — felt like years. Decades. Many, many eventful decades.

Through it all, talking to Harry’s dad felt like a blip on his radar.

“He wanted to...go eat steak,” Peter remembered, slowly. His forehead creased in the middle as he tried to recall the night. “He talked about our grades and — and studying. That’s it. We shook hands and I left.”

Natasha cocked her head to the side, her forehead equally as creased as Peter, yet obviously for a very different reason.

“But it felt strange?” she repeated, and slowly at that.

Peter nodded.

“Really strange,” he reaffirmed.

The sound from Tony’s throat was deep enough to catch both their attention. He ran his thumb across his chin, looking somewhere with no interest as his mind processed the information.

"Maybe the symbiote was having its effect on you by then,” Tony pondered. The expression that fell across his face seemed conflicted at his own speculation. “This would’ve been...almost six days since you snuck into that lab.”

Peter shook his head hard enough for his hair to fall into his eyes.

“Yeah, but I’m telling you Mr. Stark, I didn’t touch anything in that lab —”

Just like that, Peter shot his one arm out, sitting up so tall on the bench that his head could’ve hit the Quinjet’s roof.

“Oh, my god.”

“Oh my god what?” Tony watched, with high-arched eyebrows, as Peter immediately reached down for his backpack with haste. He was positive at this point his heart wouldn’t survive anymore shock. “Oh my god what?”

Peter didn’t answer him. Rather, he clutched his backpack against his chest, immediately emptying its contents as he flipped it around in all directions. Books fell to his feet and papers flew Natasha’s way as he frantically looked at it — examined it, running his fingers all across it.

“It’s gone,” he breathed out, his eyes growing wide with realization. “That means—”

"What, Parker?” Tony stressed, his hands hovering over the backpack as if he wanted to snatch it right out of Peter’s grasp. “That means what?”

Peter immediately shot his head over towards him.

"I didn’t get the symbiote from that lab,” he insisted, shaking his head the whole time. "I'm telling you, I didn't touch anything in that lab, nothing touched me."

Of everything he had said in the last few weeks, of all the lies stacked ontop of more lies and half truths and hidden secrets, Peter spoke with the most certainty he’d ever felt before.

Still, Tony furrowed his brow. “Then where else could you have gotten it from, Pete?”

The answer felt heavy leaving his mouth.

"Mr. Osborn.”

Natasha was immediately closer — practically hovering over Peter now, and Tony looked at him in a way that made Peter worried he might have a stroke.

Or two.

“I — I shook his hand. Right before I left.” Peter swallowed, hard, exchanging quick glances between both Natasha and Tony. “It felt...it felt wrong. It felt...it felt bad. And – and I went to the bathroom to fix my strap,” he lifted the broken strap for display. “And there was this grease or something right here, right on my backpack.”

The spot Peter pointed to was clean as a whistle. So the look of confusion from both adults was justified.

“It’s gone,” Peter repeated, clearly still trying to comprehend the revelation as much as the others. “It was the symbiote, the grease — it was the symbiote. It – it came from Mr. Osborn. And that night — that night in the workshop,” Peter immediately turned to Tony. “That wasn’t an anxiety attack, Mr. Stark. That was my spider-sense. That had to be the night the symbiote infected me!”

Peter looked at Tony and realized that stroke was right around the corner.

“Why would Norman have it?” Natasha quickly asked, though it sounded more like pondering than anything else.

Quiet footsteps came from nearby — silent type like hers, just enough force that the presence wanted to be known.

“He created it, right?” Bucky’s voice was hoarse at the edges, somewhat unsure in the center. Though he felt uncertain about joining the conversation, his mouth got the better of him. “Why wouldn’t he have it?”

Natasha craned her head around to look at him.

“But why would he have it?” she stressed, folding both arms tightly over her chest. “At his home?”

Bucky made a face, something between deep consideration and obliviousness. He stood next to Natasha, and though Tony was too occupied warding off a heart attack to do anything other than stare at Peter, Bucky ensured he rooted his feet on the opposite side of the man.

“Didn’t you say this guy does mad scientist experiments?” he asked, toneless, leaning firmly against the nearest wall. “Those type of men don’t typically make a lot of sense.”

Silence took the place of any answers.

Natasha turned to Tony, noting that his silence was far different than theirs.

“What is it, Tony?” she asked, slowly, with her head cocked to the side.

Tony blinked, craning his head up to look at her.

“You’re right,” he easily said.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow high. “Don’t hear that often.”

“Why would Norman have the symbiote on him?” Tony ignored her remark in favor of his own question. “This man built a bunker under the ocean in the Bermuda Triangle just to avoid anyone discovering his experiments. Now he’s taking his work home with him?”

Bucky made a face of apperception, looking somewhat taken aback along the way. Peter noted that all the adults had different expressions on their face — Natasha confused, and Tony...well, that would simply take too long to figure out.

“It doesn’t add up,” Tony concluded, too quietly for Peter’s liking.

From across the way, Bruce cleared his throat, his one finger gestured aimlessly ahead.

“If Oz is a...cure for cancer, or – or disease immunity, something that would help the sick...” he started to say, his finger wagging with his words as his footsteps led him forward. “And the symbiote was a way to protect cell destruction…and Norman’s behind all of that…”

Tony snapped his fingers.

Just once.

“He’s sick.” The two words were forceful enough to stop time. “Performing the test trials on himself. He didn’t bring his work home, the work tried to come home with him.”

Bruce’s scoff only got louder as he approached the group.

“No, that’s – that’s insanity,” Bruce insisted, a firm shake of his head rattling his voice. “Only a somebody truly desperate would test something on themse—oh.”

Tony’s face fell flat as he gestured his hand forward.

“Pot. Kettle.” His head tilted to the side. “Black.”

Bruce had the grace to look embarrassed.

“So the man might be dying,” Bucky interjected, a hard shrug shaking his shoulders. “Let him die.”

Natasha shook her head, a grim expression casting over her face. “Nature might not happen soon enough.”

Looking back down at his backpack, Peter settled his hand over the spot he knew was once stained. His fingers grazed the fabric as those around him exchanged fierce glances, the tension he didn’t want existing quickly finding its way inside.

Peter could’ve been miles away from that tension and he still would’ve felt it — would’ve felt his own tension, wrapping tight around his core.

That night in Tony’s lab — the panic attack he had in his bedroom. It was when he grabbed his backpack.

It was his spider-sense, it had to be.

“Venom was just one of the symbiote’s they bred,” Bruce’s quiet voice was dangerously loud breaking the silence. “With all we saw in those pictures Peter took...there’s no telling what the next trial will do. And if the symbiote is derived from Oz...I don’t wanna know what kind of monster the Oz Formula would breed.”

Peter looked up from his backpack, his head rocketing up like someone controlled his puppet strings. The fact that everyone looked as unsettled as he felt didn’t leave him feeling too optimistic about the situation.

He’d quickly learned that when they looked worried, shit had already hit the fans.

“But it can’t come to life without me, right?” Peter tried to find a silver lining. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. “It needs my DNA to even...you know...stick.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “Was that a pun?”

“Parker’s right,” Tony said, almost automatically. His fingers had already begun tapping across his knee. “They’ll give up. Without the spider DNA, the symbiote’s won’t ever work. Norman won’t keep focusing on the Symbiote Project, not with knowing what it’ll take to get it started — and not having it.”

Tony absolutely, positively, without a certain of a doubt hated that ‘it’ was sitting right next to him.

From the way Peter had noticeably clenched up — it was impossible not to notice, they were pressed against one another — Tony figured the kid felt the same way.

“Then we’re in the clear,” Bucky unwittingly concluded, his one and only hand gesturing in a floppy manner towards Peter. “Punk hides under a mask. No one knows who he is.”

“He’s got a point.” Sam let himself approach the group, already standing halfway to the back of the jet and listening in on the conversation. It was only a few steps to get him to the others. “Norman’s got no idea who Pete is, outside of some...old friend of his kid, right? Just don’t make anymore trips to his house and it’s all said and done.”

The resolution seemed as clear and bright as the sun that swelled through the clouds outside the jet. A simple answer, an easy conclusion to a growing problem.

“Uh-oh,” Peter felt the words tumble right out of his mouth.

Sam immediately arched an eyebrow. “Uh-oh?”

Peter nodded, stiffly. “Uh-oh.”

Slowly, with the speed that even a turtle would’ve laughed at, Peter turned his head around to Tony. Their expressions were eerily similar now — not a single person failed to notice it.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter trailed off, drawing out the two words with a stress that lined each additional syllable.

Tony’s response was to shake his head — fervently.

“We don’t know for sure that he knows —” he tried to say.

Peter kept going right over him. “But you said —”

“I know what I said.”

“And if he does —”

“We don’t know that he does, kid —”

“But if he does —”

Tony grabbed Peter’s arm, holding it firmly.

“We protect you.”

Peter looked down at Tony’s grip, shocked at how white the mans knuckles were, his fingers pressing so hard into his bicep that an average person would be in pain. When he looked back up at Tony, the fierce determination in his grasp reflected back in his eyes.

“Osborn’s not coming near you, Peter,” Tony said — swore. His voice firm throughout. “Not so long as we’re around.”

─────── Identity Crisis︱Chapter 15: Slithered Here From Hell ───────

Norman met his gaze with a straight face, unamused and impassive.

“What do you want?”

Tony could have laughed; had honesty been something he intended to rely on, there still wouldn’t be enough time in his day to go down that road. Not even the riches in both their bank accounts could buy what he wanted, their pockets deep in stocks and market exchanges not nearing close enough to provide the peace of mind and security he desperately fought for.

Leaning back casually in the chair, Tony lifted both his hands in an open gesture, plastering a press-winning smile over his face.

“A lot of things,” he started. “World peace would be a great. End to all poverty. No kid hungry, no kid left behind, that sorta thing.” Tony’s face fell flat, the facade beginning to weaken at the fringes. “A tête-à-tête works, too. Heart-to-heart, one-on-one. You, me — none of those pesky lawyers we keep overpaying to do our dirty work. Just a good old conversation between like minded individual’s.”

Norman arched an eyebrow high into his hairline, his hardened gaze unwavering on the man sitting across from him.

The beat that followed felt toxic, inundated with palpable tension. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d say the air in the room had gone stale, stiff and thick from the negative energy stemming between them.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss ongoing lawsuits with you,” Norman finally responded, every bit as calm as Tony expected. “If that’s the only reason you came here, I hate to disappoint.”

“No lawsuits, last I checked,” Tony countered innocently. “No convictions that I’m even aware of. I mean, hell, you know how the Senate Armed Services Committee can be — always keeping themselves busy, soaking up those taxpayer dollars. They go after my Iron Man suits, they go after you with those experiments —”

“This isn’t about my experiments,” Norman cut in, professionally laced tone sharper than a knife. “It’s about your ridiculous claims, ones that you keep taking my company to court for. And you’ll have to pardon my forbearance when it comes to accusations that I can’t entertain. I have much more important things to do in my day than defend myself against such absurd allegations.”

Tony gave an exaggerated shrug. “Are they absurd, though? Can anything be considered absurd now that aliens have attacked New York and Gods have roamed the streets of New Mexico?”

Norman cocked his head to the side, failing to emulate the same grin that twitched at Tony’s mouth.

“Your case on OsCorp continues to be dismissed by the courts based on the grounds that you don’t have proof. It will never be upheld by a judge based solely on your conspiracy theories.” His words were seamless, practiced. Downright methodical. “Quite frankly, the longer you extend this feud, the sooner the public will begin to speculate that OsCorp is a threat to Stark Industries. Is that really a look you want for your company?”

“I have proof,” Tony forced through his teeth. The sting that he’d been keeping at bay started to burn in his chest, germinating with each passing second. “I just can’t use it.”

“Then that isn’t proof,” Norman rebutted, managing to pull of the most contrite look Tony had possibly ever seen. It didn’t look well on him, stretching the crows-feet over his eyes and adding years to his face. “It’s heresay.”

Tony shouldn’t have been surprised by his blatant denial. In a way, he wasn’t. But it didn’t stop his jaw from tightening, or his hand from clenching tightly into a fist.

Despite everything, Tony hadn’t been prepared for just how difficult it’d be to bench the searing hate that congealed in his veins. How challenging it was to sit quietly, play dumb despite all he knew. All he experienced first-hand.

“You know,” he cleared his throat, feigning casual conversation. “There’s a lot about the inner workings of my career you could never familiarize yourself with. SHIELD, the company I'm contracted out to work for —”

“Work for?” Norman tsked, reclining against his plush chair and staring over the expanse of the mahogany desk at Tony. “Is that what you call your vigilantism?”

Tony chose to ignore that statement.

“They have strict security clearance,” he continued on as if uninterrupted. “Information I know doesn’t get shared with the public, not unless I want to wake up in bed with a horses head next to my pillow. Doesn’t mean I don’t know things. Who they’ve gone after, who they’ve shut down in the past…”

As Norman reclined back, Tony leaned forward, his elbows pressing firmly on his knees.

“What sort of...surreptitious buildings floated in the pacific ocean…”

An uninvited friction washed across the room, belligerent in spite of the silence that fell between the two.

Tony savored the whisper of surprise that crossed over Norman’s face. It was almost nonexistent — a twitch of his cheekbones, a look in his eyes — blink and it was gone.

But Tony saw it.

He relished in it.

“Six months ago one of your experiments got loose and nearly destroyed the Collar City Bridge,” Tony reminded him. He mimicked Norman’s position, leaning back in his chair, flexing and then folding his hands into his lap. “You paid the city hush money to pretend it never happened. I know it did. I was there, I cleaned up your mess. And I know you’ve been doing worse than that rock android.”

As much as it pained him to admit, Tony and Norman had one thing in common — they were born in the corporate world, taught how to bullshit the same day they were taught how to walk.

So it was no surprise to see Norman appear indifferent, turning a blind eye as if he knew nothing more.

“How so?” he casually asked, reaching for his glass of whiskey.

A mirthless laugh almost broke free of Tony’s throat, managing instead to stay tightly restricted between two pursed lips — clamped shut with brewing anger. He watched wordlessly as Norman took a sip of the amber drink, his eyes never leaving Tony’s, not even as the glass returned to the surface of his desk.

Tony popped his lips, the sound echoing throughout the office. “No one finds it coincidental that a teleporting magician appeared in the same week?”

Norman smirked. Just a little. Just enough.

“And gone the next,” he regarded Tony evenly. “There were no ties with that incident and OsCorp.”

It was the tone of deceptive innocence that got to Tony, so immaculately perfected that it could fool anyone’s ears — surely pass any lie detector, win over any judge. Tony imagined that had it not been for the hell they’d been through earlier in the year, Norman’s act of virtue might have even instilled some doubt in his accusations.

But there weren’t accusations to have. Not anymore. They knew the truth — Tony knew the truth. The truth was nightmares that woke him up at three a.m. Panic attacks he could barely stave off at the smell of salt water and ocean life. The endless reminders of sleepless nights in his compound’s medical bay, praying relentlessly to a God he didn’t believe in at the bedside of a kid too young to experience the trauma he’d been put through.

He didn’t need to hear the truth directly from the fool’s mouth to feel vindicated.

He just needed to buy the time until they had their proof.

“Hm. So you claim,” Tony said, his voice still calm, still leveled. They could both play the game of bullshitting some professional nonsense. “Just as you claimed that your numerous east-coast research facilities were all up to code and legally abiding. Yet the case of one Max Dillon, circa 2008, might see things differently.”

Norman hadn’t looked away from Tony, not even as his fingers began to dance across the plush leather armrest of his chair.

Tony stared right back into his eyes, refusing to be intimidated.

“Remember him?” Tony flippantly waved a hand, dismissing a response. “Of course you don't. He was just another college student, Montclair State University, too desperate for a couple bucks to know what participating in your underpaid studies would do to him.”

Tony leaned in, just an inch, the soft tapping of Norman’s fingers audible in the quiet space between them.

“Amazing how an incident that put a nineteen-year-old boy into a coma brought on by high-voltage electrical shock could just be...tossed out of court like some suburban soccer mom suing their neighbor for leaving Christmas decorations up past New Years.” Tony's voice grew harder, his need to remain reserved slipping between the cracks where his emotion began to surface. “But you claimed — sorry, let me rephrase that — you ‘claimed’ that your study participants were subjected to the highest level of care and consideration in your faculties. Just as you claim now that you’ve had nothing to do with the Collar City Bridge incident. Or the magician in Times Square. Or the revived, modified Chitarui remains that attacked Brooklyn.”

Tony said nothing for a moment; he wasn’t sure if it was to add suspense to his lingering words, or to control the growing pit that started to claw its way into his throat. He could feel his lip twitch, the memories all too vivid, too personal. Close enough to his chest that he was sure each hammering beat of his heart kept them alive and present in his mind.

Norman stared at him, face so expressionless it was as if he knew nothing of the pain he’d cause Tony.

Or worse, simply didn’t care.

“Among other events I can’t list, of course,” Tony finally added, managing a nonchalant shrug that took more effort than it appeared. “But like I said...security clearance. Not sure if I’d be able to get horses blood out of Egyptian Cotton bedsheets. And I would rather not have to try.”

The false image of calm and collected pervading every fiber of Norman’s persona hadn’t taken a hit. His fingers finally stopped moving across the armrest, his hands settling on the smooth surface of his desk not far from where the mountain glass sat, condensation still leaking onto the wood below it.

“And it would be ill-advised to discuss anything further without a lawyer present,” Norman pressed. “That is, so long as you continue to throw subpoenas on my desk every other week.”

A full blown grin pulled tightly at Tony’s cheeks, the phony act coming back just as quickly as it left.

“Hey, it’d stop if I got my answers.”

The laugh that came from Norman was downright unsettling, surprising at the very least. Tony arched an eyebrow high, watching with disturbed interest as Norman picked up the glass from his desk and shook his head, little laughs rattling his chest.

Tony narrowed his eyes, noticing how his muscles tensed at every low chuckle that escaped Norman’s mouth. He’d heard a lot of sinister sounds in his life. Somehow, this one felt the worse.

Norman took a sip of scotch, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

“You know who does have a tie to those incidents you speak of, Stark?” He returned his gaze to Tony, openly gesturing the glass in his direction. “Queens local Spider-Man.”

Norman eyed Tony intently. There was no missing the glint in his eye, not even in the dim lighting of the darkened office.

“He was there for them all,” Norman spoke casually, as if their conversation hadn’t took a coarse, abrupt turn. Like they were still throwing banter back and forth on political arguments and legal proceeding disagreements, like the mention of the red and blue clad vigilante was nothing more than an insouciant comment in an otherwise petty discussion.

Tony fought to appear as if that was the case, forcing himself to hide any shred of emotion that would say otherwise.

“I’m not here to discuss Avengers business with you,” Tony curtly said, his pulse quickly beginning to thump erratically under his skin.

Norman arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware that Spider-Man was an Avenger now.”

Just like that, a burning feeling settled deep in Tony’s chest — a sharp needle that dug deep into his core. It wasn’t until the sensation became overpowering that he realized he’d stopped breathing all together, his test of patience pushed to the absolute limits.

He flexed his hands, his mouth setting in grim line.

“He’s not.”

Norman moved to raise both his eyebrows, and the glass of whiskey to the tips of his lips.

“But I do see Iron Man with him...often.” A sip. A swallow. Norman swirled the liquid in the glass, watching it swish around the edges. “An enigma, if I do say so myself.”

Tony should have expected such a low blow. The public wasn’t oblivious to the connection he had with Spider-Man, after all. Not since spring, not since the rock-android incident on the Collar City Bridge. In that moment, he had unintentionally outed Spider-Man as an ally of his, more than an acquaintance — the frequent visits Iron Man made to Queens were too coincidental to brush aside. Tony knew that. He wasn’t naive, he knew full well how the media ate up his superhero business like there was no tomorrow.

But still. To bring him up now, to drag Spider-Man into their conversation unwarranted, with no cause, no reason —

The implications were clear as day.

Tony’s eyes hardened. The rest of him managed to look flawlessly oblivious.

“What can I say?” He spread his arms out wide, slapping on a smile that went ear-to-ear. “Hard to turn down a friendly face who just wants to help his neighborhood.”

Norman leaned back in his chair, hand still holding his glass, resting it somewhere beneath his chest where the dark emerald tie laid against the harsh contrast of his white button down.

“Neighborhoods have always been beneath you, Stark,” he said, searching Tony’s eyes for something that neither of them could distinguish. “What changed?”

Tony was sure the words were meant as a challenge. A goading, leading question designed to trick him — trip him up, admit something that would only serve Norman’s interest and no one else’s.

“I started giving a damn,” Tony ground the words from his lips. “You should try doing the same.”

If Norman was disappointed by the answer, he surely didn’t let it show. Head dipped low, chin on his chest, he again swirled the liquid in the mountain glass. Only the thin slivers of sunlight peeking through the heavy drawn curtains gave way to the expression on his face, and Tony had to squint to notice if there had even been a change that took place.

He remained impassive, imperturbable through it all.

“You’ve always relied on contingencies in your business. A destined trait from someone who took over a corporation at such a young age, I suppose,” Norman went on to say, infuriatingly stoic. “But chance won’t help you with whatever you’re trying to put OsCorp through. Whatever information you think you have in that intellect of yours...it won’t do you any good at the end of the day. You’ve become nothing more than the boy who cried wolf, the thorn in the side of our judicial system, wasting time of those who could be serving our public better.”

Leaning forward, Norman set the glass back on the desk, far off to the corner where he couldn’t easily grab ahold of it again. Tony’s eyes briefly glanced in the direction; the amber liquid was all but gone, a mere trace of residue left in the bottom.

“So, I ask again…” Norman furrowed his brows, hesitating before reclining back in the chair. “Why are you here?”

Tony raised his eyes to meet Norman’s burrowing stare, a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

“For the kids,” he boasted simply. “Who are we without them, am I right?”

Norman huffed a slight, dry chuckle, giving the smallest nods along the way.

“Ah, yes, the OsCorp Internship Program,” he preened, a crease between his eyes telling Tony he hadn’t fully fallen for the set-up. Still, he continued on. “You know, my son Harrison is second lead to running that program.”

Tony adjusted himself in his seat, hoping the movement hid the eye-roll he was unable to stop himself from giving.

“I’m sure you’re very proud,” he acknowledged flatly.

Norman nodded, eyes settling, skin pulling tight in a few places.

“I recently became acquainted with an old friend of his,” he began to say, the pause that followed heavier than the stare he proceeded to give. “I think you know him — Peter Parker?”

The sound of the name assaulted Tony like a thousand pounds of shrapnel blasting through his chest cavity, hitting him harder than a bomb blowing through the fragile windows of an undersea bunker. He could feel the blood rush out from his face, his skin growing cold, his heart losing rhythm.

It was too much not to let Norman on, to not shoot glaring daggers his way — let him know that even speaking that name was a cardinal sin that could never be forgiven.

If his facade faltered in the second that passed, it wasn’t for lack of trying.

“The name is familiar, yes.” Tony's jaw tightened threateningly, a sound akin to a growl nearly escaping his throat.

Norman’s lips twisted into a small smile. Tony fought the urge to punch it right off his face.

“Very intelligent young man. Guided by the right hands, he could do wonders. Take this company right underneath me some day, assuming my son doesn’t do it first.” Norman’s tone was enough to have Tony grinding his teeth — lighthearted, interested, fascinated. Thrilled. He looked at Tony, really looked at him, hiding nothing beneath his features. “I tried getting him enrolled in the OsCorp Internship, but he unfortunately declined.”

“Sorry to break your heart,” Tony’s voice dipped dangerously low, raw and strained despite his best efforts. “He’s already in one.”

Tony made a face, something he was sure looked less impressionable than what he wanted. It was hard to stay neutral in the conversation. Less than six hours ago he discovered Peter’s impromptu, unapproved trip to OsCorp had resulted in something happening that could very well be poisoning him — or worse.

Now, in the same day, he managed to find out that Norman himself had made contact with the kid.

His kid.

Who, when all this was said and done with, would be getting a long lecture about hiding things from others. Like having a powwow with the man responsible for nearly killing them both, on multiple occasions.

Tony’s eyes briefly flitted away, a curse sitting on the tip of his tongue. He should’ve done more when he got that alert of Peter’s location in OsCorp. He knew then that trouble was afoot — he should’ve listened to his instincts.

“Mhm-hm.” Norman’s hum cut through the stifling silence. “I’m aware of his extra curricular activities. I looked into it — the Stark Internship.” He raised a single eyebrow. “Doesn’t exist.”

The words rang through the office like reverberating steel; harsh, frigid, striking a cord where it wasn’t wanted.

Things that had previously not added up in his calculations were suddenly growing crystal clear to Tony. Shinier than the near-empty glass of alcohol that sat discarded across from him.

“But other people…”

Peter hadn’t meant the Thompson kid at school.

He didn’t want that proof for himself.

Tony felt a sinking pit grow deep in his gut. Realization combined with hopeless understanding tore into his skin like a ravenous, feral beast, and his spine stiffened; a steel knife cutting straight into his windpipe.

Whatever Peter was keeping from him, whatever he was keeping secret — it was beyond them all at this point.

Tony could only hope that there wasn’t more he was hiding.

Norman fiddled with the cuffs to his white button down, pushing them up his forearms. “Now, I don’t take Mr. Parker for a liar, seems like an honest young boy, has the straps on his boots up well. But you, on the other hand —”

“It exists,” Tony bit back vehemently, the words coming without his bidding.

Norman leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk between them, moving himself as close into Tony’s space as he possibly could.

“Then the question remains to be…” His head cocked to the side, and his eyes narrowed sharply. “In what capacity?”

Tony met his eyes head-on, not by choice, rather by sheer force of will. He refused to look away, refused to plant any validation to the implication laid out in front of him.

Yet it was blunt. Unequivocal, unmistakable.

Suddenly, Tony felt like he was drowning — caught under water, trapped in a wave he couldn’t escape. His ears rushed and popped, his head screamed under the tightening pressure. It was hard to even breathe, a simple inhale catching in his chest and staying there.

Right where Norman sat, leaning over his desk, the first expression he’d seen on the man all afternoon finally catching the little bit of sunlight creeping in through the curtains.

He was smug.

And Tony had a gut-wrenching feeling on why.

─────── Identity Within︱Chapter 5: Something Borrowed ───────

Norman reached forward, grabbing the nearest item in the large, contaminated pile.

A photo frame laid amongst the mess; covered in white, tacky fluid. Norman grabbed the smallest part of its upper hand corner, barely free of any white goop. With his finger and thumb, he tugged it away from the wreckage.

It drew along a sinuous string of fluid, like bubble gum freshly plucked from a child’s mouth — stretching onward, resistant and unending. Norman couldn’t help but eye it, curiously — the unhinged pit in his stomach too deep to give it his fascination, but the oddity of it all still captivating his attention.

He almost didn’t notice the picture sitting behind the glass; so engrossed staring at the intricate, silky cobwebs pulled from the splatter across the floor. To the point where the image sealed away was the last thing he found focus on; the faces confined inside the frame catching his attention, forever frozen in time.

Behind the thick layers of white, two men posed side-by-side. Norman squinted his eyes and then returned them to size, struggling to make out the details beneath the mess. The white covered nearly all of the glass, but the threads of gummy fiber thinned out with detailed latticework making each strand unique and nearly translucent.

Instinctively, he went to brush the tacky fluid away, stopping short of his fingers grazing the substance.

It was there he could see the picture wasn’t of two men — no, Norman studied the image more intently.

It was a man, and a young boy.

A teenager.

They were familiar, both of them. Both holding a framed document no different than Norman held the framed photo. Both faces etched deep into the tapestry of Norman’s memory.

Though partially obscured by the large splatter of white goop, the man in particular struck a chord of recognition. The trademark goatee, the impish twinkle in the eyes, even the assured tilt of his head —

Standing next to a neatly kept tuft of hair, wide innocent eyes, and a familiar, awkward smile of adolescence —

Norman’s eyes flittered left to right, back and forth, lingering only to pause on the center where he could scarcely make out the Stark Industries logo within the frame — free of any tacky fluid that would keep it indistinguishable.

h̷̶̷̸̶̶̶̡̨̧̧̢̥̗̦̫̩͍̥͕͈̭̩̬̩̜͓̗̙̥̔͒͌̓͌̅ͪ̃͒͗̅̽́̋͂̏͆̋̀̚̕͠͝͠ͅẽ̵̱͕̞̎̓ ̷̸̶̲͕̥̻̣̹͔͖͇̊͆͆̌͑͌̌̒̍̚ͅӺͫ̐ͥīꞥ̎ͤͩđ Īͪⱦͯ

ƒ̵̘̑ι̵̫͆χ̴̞̏ ̴͍̓ῖ̸̺т̷̲͂

Ħēɍē

He went to drop the framed photo back onto the floor — slowly at first, suddenly when the open envelope off to the side caught his gaze. Norman quickly reached for it, picking up the letter in one fell sweep.

The wax imprint that once sealed the parcel had since cracked and dried over, torn off at the top from when the letter was initially opened; but still fresh enough that even in the haze of his madness, he could tell it was fairly recent. The card inside was made of material far heavier than the other scattered papers that fell off the desk, holding a weight of significance that prompted him to pull it out from its resting place.

Norman paid it no care, even as the tacky substance covering the photo frame stuck to his fingers and caked into the callouses on his palms. It didn’t bother him — not as he struggled to get the card out from inside, and not as he struggled to read the contents with eyes dry as the desert and stinging with a prickly heat.

Those same eyes flickered to the framed photo beneath him, the hand holding the letter moving away just sightly so he could see the picture without any obscuration.

He looked back to the letter, all while spreading his fingers wide — creating a spiderweb between the spaces of all four of his fingers.

ӺīꞥđӺ̧̢̼͉͖̪̙̥̝͓͑͛̃̅ͫͮͫ̋́͘ͅī͈̻͔ͫͥ͆ꞥ͂͂̈̾̑̃̃̓̑̋̌đ̨͘͡

p̑̿̾ͯ̑̑ͬ̈ͤ͆̍͒ͭ̑̓u͍͚̤̖̓ͥ͆̉́n̷̨͞o̴̡ͧ̕ɟ̛̕͡ Ғ͕͕̟̈́ͮ͐θμπδ̆̾

Ħēɍē

H̰̞̗̄̔ͭίϻ͖͊̀ͅ

H̰̞̗̄̔ͭίϻ͖͊̀ͅ

ƒ̵̘̑ι̵̫͆χ̴̞̏ ̴͍̓ῖ̸̺т̷̲͂

ꓕʜ͆ͅE ̻̮̯ͮͧ̎Ƚ̈́ͭɪ̈́ͫX͓̙̮ʰ̵̦̈́ᵉ̷̲̈'̷̦̔ˢ̴̯̊ ̴͖͛ᵗ̴̢͗ʰ̵̬̋ᵉ̴͇̚ ̸̭̅ᶠ̵̣͑ᶦ̸̓͜ˣ̸̥̐

      ｔＨ𝐄 xᴉɟʰ̵̦̈́ᵉ̷̲̈'̷̦̔ˢ̴̯̊ ̴͖͛ᵗ̴̢͗ʰ̵̬̋ᵉ̴͇̚ ̸̭̅ᶠ̵̣͑ᶦ̸̓͜ˣ̸̥̐

          T͕̘͐̆h̬̩̗̓ͪ͗e ͔͆Fix͕ʰ̵̦̈́ᵉ̷̲̈'̷̦̔ˢ̴̯̊ ̴͖͛ᵗ̴̢͗ʰ̵̬̋ᵉ̴͇̚ ̸̭̅ᶠ̵̣͑ᶦ̸̓͜ˣ̸̥̐

ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᶦˣ

xᴉɟ ǝɥʇ s'ǝɥ

нє'ϛ τнє ƒίx̛̳̮̊̾͗̓̏ͪ͡ᵉ̴͇̚ ̸̭̅ᶠ̵̣͑ᶦ̸̓͜ˣ̸̥̐

For the first time in weeks, Norman felt a frigid chill — one that ran down the length of his spine, overtaking the scorching heat of an inescapable inferno. Coursing through his body and freezing him in a state of realization.

With that realization, he smiled.

And with a surge of energy that wasn’t his, he climbed off his knees and staggered out of the office. Discarding the letter in the pile left on the floor, with the card slipping out of the envelope for any onlookers to see.

Through the splatters of sticky silk, the printed text against the card caught the final highlight from the cracked door, only to fade away into darkness once that door closed shut.

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓯 𝓜𝓼. 𝓥𝓲𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓪 𝓟𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓜𝓻. 𝓐𝓷𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓷𝔂 𝓔. 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓴.

[staleclown]

Uncanny Excess-Chapter 8: Disorderly Conduct

Read the chapter on ao3!

A/N: This update took a bit longer than usual. School work, actual work, and then writer's block bitched slapped me one after another. Anyway, enjoy!

TW: Moderate blood

Connor pressed his palms flat against the wall, his vision glitching between the vast expanse of darkness and flickers of the Detroit sky. He couldn’t tell if he was moving or the clouds, or both. His code was overwhelmed, causing him to twitch and jerk every few moments as he dug blistering fingertips into the red grid in front of him. His vision sparked between being drenched in his own blood and being pristine; hot pain climbed up his spine one moment and he was machine-like invincible the next. He was able to tear a small hole in front of him, desperate fingers slick with cobalt—then shiny white, then cobalt again—clawing to the edges. If he were human, he’d be drenched in sweat. If he were human, he would be dead with a belly full of lead. 

As he tugged at the corners of the hole he had created, the rest of the wall began to crack, as if it had once been made of thin rubber and was now glass. It crumbled and splintered beneath his grasp, slitting his palms and forearms, chips of glass ricocheting off his plastimetal. 

And then, he was blinking up at the sky as the late afternoon sun assaulted his visual sensors. His visual display was overrun by codes and warnings, and when Connor finally succeeded in blinking most of them away, he realized he was alone in the alleyway, covered in his own blood. He lifted his head from the pavement, a pool of blue soaking into his shirt and coat, and then below him into the ground. Connor pushed himself up onto his elbows, his entire body protesting the motion. It felt as if someone were dragging a hot knife down his spine and into his stomach, and the simple act of sitting up left him breathless and gagging. When he spit, the saline solution was tinted blue, and his analysis program kept registering his own thirium. 

Connor pulled off his coat, and then his tie, though he wasn’t really sure why. He was trembling, but his system unhelpfully noted that it could be extreme external temperatures or a result of significant thirium loss. His ventilation system and gyroscope were both lagging, causing him to list dangerously as he got his feet under him, which only resulted in more heaving. Connor pulled himself upright, leaving heavily against the brick wall. He ripped open the first few buttons of his shirt collar, gulping down air as fast as he could. 

The realization that he was now a deviant, the very thing he was designed to destroy, made Connor so lightheaded that he thought he might crumple back to the ground. He sagged against the wall, pressing his right temple and shoulder into the bricks, no matter how much they agitated his flickering synthetic skin. His hands were patchy, and Connor couldn’t get the skin to completely cover them no matter how hard he tried. He pressed one hand to the bullet wound, all of his movement disrupting any coagulation the thirium might have begun. 

Thirium. He needed thirium. But where could he possibly get it from? Pretty much everywhere was out of the question. His little apartment was too far. He’d never make it, and even if, by some miracle, he did, he would then have to walk right past the leasing office drenched in blue blood that was very obviously his. The police department had fired all their androids, so there would be no supply there, not that he would go back there even if there were. Jericho was by far the worst option. After all, one of their leaders had just tried to kill him. North might still kill Connor with the way his stress levels ticked upward while his thirium level tanked. He couldn’t be replaced. Amanda, as awful as she was, could no longer offer any guidance. 

But, Connor figured, if he was going to die either way, which his CPU was constantly telling him the chances of which were increasing, he might as well waltz right into Jericho and let them finish the job. It was improbable they’d let him live in the first place, let alone nurse him back to health, but it would be getting dark soon, and Connor had nowhere else to go. Connor shoved himself off the wall, his head spinning as he staggered towards the end of the alley. 

At least North had had the courtesy of picking to murder her victim close to the docs. Jericho was only roughly a five minute walk away, but it felt double the length to Connor. Every few feet, he’d trip over nothing, sending him sprawling perilously, though he managed to catch himself most of the time. If he did fall, Connor forced his knees under him so that he never fell completely on his face. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to get up if he did. 

Outside the freighter, Connor hadn’t even realized he had run into the RT600 until she caught him by the elbows. 

“Are you alright? You don’t look well.”

Connor forced himself to straighten, removing himself from her grasp in as polite a manner as he could manage in his state. “I’ll be alright, thank you. Sorry for running into you.” His voice held an odd undercurrent of static, and Connor rushed past the other android before she could ask him anymore questions. 

Connor could feel the thirium trailing down the side of his leg as he half-limped, half-dragged himself towards the wing serving as a repair center. Along the way, several androids stopped to stare, some asking if he needed their help, others reaching toward him to try to help steady him, but Connor pushed past them all as if he still had a mission to complete. 

Connor shoved open the metal door to the makeshift med bay, and it slammed against the wall hard enough to make Simon jump. Simon looked up from the laptop he was studying, no doubt trying to solve some mystery of how to keep deviated androids functioning when they were never meant to. 

“Connor!” Simon’s artificial skin blanched. “That’s not your blood, is it?”

Connor opened his mouth to speak, but instead dissolved into a coughing fit. He hacked, waving Simon off as he approached, and when Connor looked back up, he was dimly aware of the trail of thirium tracing down his chin. 

“Ask North,” Connor spat, his voice crackling and distorted. 

Simon’s brow furrowed. “North? No one has seen her in a couple days. Are you telling me you have?”

“Seen her?” Connor repeated, his shock overriding the instinct to shove Simon away as he led him to a chair. Connor slumped into it gratefully before continuing. “I’ve got her damn bullet in me. Yeah, I’ve seen her.”

Simon rifled through a large crate in the corner of the room, pulling out several pouches of thirium, some sort of an oddly blue-tinted gauze, and several tools Connor couldn’t focus on. He couldn’t focus on much of anything, really. 

Simon made his way back over to Connor, and Connor complied with his demands as best as he could. 

“You really haven’t seen her?”

Simon shook his head. “She disappears pretty regularly. Usually just a few hours here and there a couple times a week. We’ve never questioned her, not even Markus. Kind of defeats the whole freedom thing. But we haven’t seen her in three days. That is unusual.”

Connor hissed as Simon cleaned the chassis, the solution leaking into his abdomen and agitating the already-tender wires. Through clenched teeth, he replied. “I ran into her some hours ago in an alleyway just west of here. I was answering a call with my partner, and she came out of nowhere and shot me when I caught her.”

Simon was silent, his face twisted in concentration for a moment before relaxing a modicum. “Markus is on his way. He’ll want to know.”

Connor sighed, and Simon glanced up at him. “I have to get the bullet out and repair the thirium line. This is going to suck. A lot.”

“Do your worst,” Connor mumbled. He was just relieved to not have shut down by now. 

Simon released the chassis over Connor’s abdomen, sparking wires and pulsing biocomponents now vulnerable. The door opened again as Simon carefully picked through Connor’s machinery. Simon glanced up too quickly, causing him to apply just a little too much pressure, and Connor had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. 

Footsteps approached Connor from behind, and then Markus was in his field of vision. He stood about three feet from him, his face oddly impassive when faced with the scene he was witnessing over Simon’s hunched form. 

Markus gave Connor a small, but warm, smile. “Connor, you’ve got to stop ending up in the repair center,” he teased.

“If it were up to me–” Connor was interrupted by his own howl of pain as Simon wrenched the bullet from Connor’s circuitry. 

Simon looked up at him sheepishly. “Sorry, it was pretty stuck in there.” 

Markus moved to stand adjacent to Connor instead of across from him, and planted a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You look like you’re about to fall out of your seat there.”

Simon pulled out some sort of wired tool, the end of which was red-hot with heat. “Okay, Connor. I’m going to go in and fix the line. I have to work quick, so if you scream—which you’re welcome to do so—I have to keep going, I’m sorry.”

Connor let out a shaky breath. “Do it.”

Even with the warning, Connor was not prepared for the amount of searing pain clawing and scratching through his entire body. Its impossibly sharp fingers dragged their way up his spine and down his chest as he did his best not to write in his seat. 

And scream he did. Connor was sure that anyone and everyone in Jericho could hear his yells and pleads. He clenched his hands so tight that he thought they might snap off. One of Markus’ hands were on each of his shoulders, pinning him to the back of the chair, even as Connor was reduced to half enunciated pleas for it to stop and pained, unintelligible shouts. Simon, true to his word, wasn’t fazed by any of it, and the few short moments it took for him to repair the line scraped against Connor like sandpaper to raw skin. By the end of it, Connor was shaking even harder than before, and his face was slick with the saline solution that served as his tears. His chest heaved with every breath, only occasionally punctuated with a low sob. 

Markus squeezed his shoulders. “Good. That was the worst of it. You’re almost done.”

It took the duration of the rest of his repairs for Connor’s breathing to even back out. Simon only gave Connor enough time to halfway button his short again before he was shoving pouches of thirium into his hands. 

“Drink all of these, and don’t even think about standing until you do.” Simon demanded, and Connor was in no position to be nothing but completely cooperative. 

As Connor tore open the first pouch with shaking hands, Markus dragged a chair over to his and sat. He waited patiently as Connor slowly drained the first pouch, and then half of the second. His coordination was still off, sending thirium from the pouch dripping down his face and hands. Connor thought he probably looked pretty gruesome right then. 

As Connor tossed aside the second now-empty pouch, Markus spoke. “I hear this is all thanks to our friend, North.”

“I’m not very inclined to be even civil with her after this.” Connor meant to sound unaffected, but his stupid voice modulator betrayed him, and his voice wavered. He ripped open the third pouch with his teeth before he could be hung out to dry by his own biocomponents again. 

“As is your prerogative. I would like to understand what happened, though. I need to know if North poses a threat to Jericho.”

Connor shook his head, and tried not to let the dizziness show on his face when he stopped. “The android she killed wasn’t even a deviant.”

“What do you mean? How do you know?”

Connor finished the third pouch, and then recounted the whole story to Markus. The physical trauma had muddled aspects of his memory bank, but it was clear enough. Markus listened, his face earnest and sympathetic, but Connor could see what looked like anger beginning to build in his eyes. 

When Connor finished, Markus sat back in his chair, uncharacteristically quiet. Connor glanced at Simon, who gave him a shrug in response. Clearly he was just as baffled. 

After a few moments, Markus spoke. “And you have no idea where North is?”

“No, I was kind of busy bleeding out and losing my partner. Oh, and the deviating bit. It’s been a long day.”

Markus sighed. “We need to find her. You think she’s been the one behind all of these murders?”

“That is what seems most probable, yes.”

“Well, shit,” Markus swore. He stood, sweeping out of the room before Simon and Connor could even react. 

Suddenly, Connor was thankful to be a state-of-the-art model with a state-of-the-art self-healing program. He had to help catch North before she could kill anyone—or anything—else.

[uselesstaroth]

FANFIC MASTERLIST

Cuz why not, I got enough of these

Will update with status of ongoing fics

You can send an ask about literally any of these

Steven Universe fanfics

Steven Universe: Darkworld: My single oldest au ever. The gist is "What if the Crystal Gems weren't the first rebellion?". It's dense as hell. Main fic follows Nora of Darkworld, the first naturally formed gem in a really, really long time.

Sonic fanfics

All the Immortal Creatures: A Blazamy fic about Amy staying over at Blaze's dimension thanks to a strange being that's apparently Blaze's uncle called Telos. He senses something strange in Sonic's world but that has nothing to do with the girls.

I Want My Tears Back: An Idol Amy/Rockstar Blaze fic, where an on-the-run Amy completely throws off what Blaze wanted and expected for her future.

Like A Storm: My first OC x Canon fanfic. Sonic, recently done with Starfall Islands, now completely powerless is taking some time off in the Sol Dimension. At the same time, Breeze the Cat takes interest in the brown hedgehog. Why is he powerless? Who's Breeze? Why are there reports of people losing their powers?

Ace Attorney Amy Rose: An Ace Attorney au where Amy is a newbie defense attorney, with Surge and Lanolin as prosecution and Blaze as another defense attorney. Her mentor is Vanilla. There's no fic, only the summary.

You Were There The Whole Time: An Ark Siblings fic where Maria survives by becoming Amy Rose due to a prototype cure, idea by thejazzywaffles

The Death of Doctor Starline: A Starline centric fic of what he does after surviving issue 50 but losing an arm. Majorly inspired by the Sonic Twitter Takeover. A long journey of constant humiliation, and yet somehow a better life.

The End's Last Gambit: A fanfic for Smallpwbbles' End Sonic AU, about The End's last attempt to keep Sonic under control by using Tails' actual feelings against him.

Metallic Invincible Me: A surgamy fic that's also my version of a Metal Surge arc. (Chapter 3 pending)

Team Rascal AU: Post-Final Horizon, Sonic disappears, presumed dead. Surge redeems herself, by herself, and Amy ends up joining the Impostor Duo as essentially vigilantes. (A lot written, little finished and thus posted)

Tomophobia: Fic based on a dream that before he created Surge and Kit, Starline turned Amy Rose into a cyborg, erased her memory of it and thus went unnoticed by anyone.

Sonic Underground Odyssey: A version of Sonic Underground that happens after Frontiers instead of incorporating it into Sonic's backstory with the adaptations I felt necessary to suit it.

Metal Hero AU: Sonic the Hedgehog has always been a helpful little robot that saves the world from his creator, Dr. Eggman. aka, Metal Sonic is the hero, and called Sonic the Hedgehog.

An Early Shadow: Shadow escapes prison island sooner than he's supposed to, and winds up meeting a really resentful fox in West Side Island. Almost everything is different from that point on.

Lies of Ann: A Shadow Android wakes up, with no memories at all, not even of the name "Shadow", taking the name Ann instead. Ann, with the voice of Rouge the Bat through the speakers, escapes a rundown Eggman base to the surface. Character profiles here.

Silver Prime: When everyone in the future disappears, Silver travels to the past with a Time Stone he found outside of Little Planet and finds himself in the middle of a multi-timeline catastrophe.

Don't Escape: A Metamy fic about Amy being kidnapped by Neo Metal Sonic and being given near total control of its army, and getting caught up on "holding it back" from the inside. Takes place in the first IDW arc. Progresses into Villain!Amy

Mach Speed Lies: A fanfic where the "Sonic" identity is one gigantic lie he has been keeping up for years, to the point he doesn't remember who he is without it. Lots of heartbreak, and no going back to how things used to be.

Upcoming: Super Amy's Night Out

Lego Monkie Kid fanfics

Azure Wings: A fanchild fanfic of the child of Azure Lion, Golden Winged Peng and Yellowtusk the Wise, called Azure Winged Lion, gifted with Truth Powers that haunt them daily and cost them their beloved wings at the hands of their father Azure. It chronicles their relations with the Lady Bone Demon and their road to becoming a Celestial Warrior for the sake of stopping people like their parents. (THIS IS MY BABY)

How I (Didn't) Meet My Mom: My concept of Nuwa and her relationship with MK. As it says, she's not his mom, but something else.

Cult of the Lamb

There are Danganronpa fanfics too.

Cherished Memories: A fic based on the most insane glitch to ever happen to me.

Samurai Jack

Samurai Hali: I love the emoji girl from Season 5 Episode 1, so I made her the protagonist, taking up Jack's mantle after he disappears

[soongtypehuman]

Crispy, Crunchy, Peanut-Buttery Updates

Hello everyone! You all look lovely today. Shiny coats, cold, wet noses.

I’ve been mostly absent for a bit while I try to get my health issues stabilized, but I’ve been working on a lot of things behind the scenes and wanted to update you.

First, as you can see below, I have front and back covers for Kinktober 2022-24, which indicates two things. First, there’s more than likely going to be a Kinktober this year. My health is precarious but my libido is strong. No promises, but nearly every day of October has at least an outline, and many with a first draft, so things look promising. But unlike previous years, requests are closed. I’m just doing whatever my depraved little heart desires.

Second, these have covers because I’m nearly finished putting together and formatting text and cover files that can be uploaded to a POD site (like Lulu) so that physical books can be printed. Everything will be available to download for free, I’m not making any money off this.

After the first of the year when season 4 of Positronic Rivalry has wrapped up, seasons 1-4 of PosiRi and Kinktober 2022-24 will be available as downloadable files with covers so you can print all 7 volumes at your print on demand supplier of choice. The text files for the seasons are already formatted, I just need to figure out something with the covers.

After that, I’m working on compiling “Neogenesis: The soong_type_human Synthetic Omnibus”, which will contain all 4 seasons of PosiRi, all 3 years of Kinktober, both PosiRi drabble/ficlet collections (explicit and non), the Positronic Christmas collection, the Stars and Circuits trilogy, The Family We Keep trilogy, the Data/Lore drabble/ficlet collection, as well as orphans such as Pet, To Walk as Death, and Oceans of Void Between Stars, as well as the two Detroit: Become Human fics I’ve written.

That’s a lot! But wait, there’s more.

I’ve currently got the first drafts of three different fics finished: 2 for season 4 of PosiRi, and the final (😢) installment of Among Stars and Circuits. All three are getting posted before Kinktober, and then after a short break, season 4 of PosiRi will resume.

And if you think this is all of lot of work, it is. But I love it and I’m fond of you guys as well.

As always, if you want to toss a coin to your android smut peddler, there’s a ko-fi link in my bio.

[mynamewasstolenfrommenowimangry]

so my phone screen has been kinda jacked up for a while and a few days ago i finally dropped it the final time, and i can no longer touch or see anything on the screen. it still turns on, but thats about it. and ive had to kinda work my life around this fact. for example, the only way im able to text people or contact my parents while at college right now is because i had preemptively connected google messages to my computer so i can still access it so long as my phone is on. i cant do any phone calls right now, and if something happens that logs me out of my bank on my pc i have no way to get back in since 2 factor auth is done on my phone. this is the case for a lot of my accounts actually, and a lot of the time you need to use a phone to just create an account and exist on the internet nowadays.

im kinda just now realizing how dependent one has to be on their phone to do really anything nowadays, theres a lot you just simply cant do without one. and these super important things are being made by companies for profit? intentionally designed to break down after x amount of time??

some phones lock your service provider to only one provider depending on where you get them. the fact that this is even an option kinda disgusts me, and also means i cant just plop my sim card into one of my older phones that i still have but stopped using. the reason i stopped using them was because they suddenly got really fucking slow and laggy after a random update and made it impossible to do anything on them

just like

can we have someone make a phone thats designed to last more than 5 years please??? one that if i drop it 2 feet the screen doesnt crack, one that doesnt mysteriously start draining battery super fast one day?

fun fact you cant uninstall youtube on android. its impossible without rooting your phone. what the fuck.