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saatorus · 1 month ago

Text

cyberboy come home to me!

art credits: @musapylsa

synopsis — you just really love shy, nerdy, awkward armin arlert. not to mention how much you adore his tongue piercing.

wc — 5.4k

warnings — oral (f receiving), brief m receiving oral, unprotected sex, dom! kinda reader? armin is a loser virgin, tongue piercing fixation, mentions of drinking and getting high.

“Ah… I’m not sure if we should be— mmph!”

Armin downright whimpers when you silence his protest with a soft giggle and press your lips to his again, cupping his cheek like you’re trying to ease him into it. He kisses back, but it’s clumsy—his lips too hesitant, his breath shaky. The way his slightly clammy hands tremble as they slide awkwardly onto your waist gives him away completely. His fingers twitch like he’s unsure if he’s even allowed to touch you, like he’s expecting to be jolted awake from some perverse fever dream at any second.

You smile into it. He tastes a little like fruit punch and nerves.

How’d he even end up like this?

Honestly? He’s not entirely sure himself.

All he knows is that about an hour ago, he’d been forcibly dragged out of his safe, sacred little sanctuary—his room—by none other than Eren Jaeger, who’d called him a “shut-in loser” with all the affection of a lifelong best friend trying to get his social recluse ass to touch grass for once. “Just come out for one night,” Eren had said. “You never hang out anymore. You just rot in front of that stupid computer!”

That “stupid computer,” by the way, is the love of Armin’s life. A lovingly hand-built, high-performance rig that he’d spent months putting together with trembling excitement and a YouTube tab permanently open. The tower is pure art—transparent case with perfectly routed cable management, cool-toned RGB fans that change hues with each temperature spike, and a custom water-cooling loop that keeps everything running quieter than a whisper. The inside glows in a soft gradient from blue to violet, illuminating every pristine component like a spaceship console. His mechanical keyboard clicks satisfyingly under his fingers, each custom PBT keycap matte and worn in just enough. The desk is outfitted with dual curved monitors, a steelseries headset perched on a 3D-printed stand, and a carefully arranged line of anime figurines—each one dusted weekly.

He lives there. He thrives there. Not out here.

So when he’d first stepped foot into the frat house—blinking under dim purple lights, instantly accosted by the stench of sweat, alcohol, Axe body spray, and weed—he’d wanted to turn and run. Connie had looped an arm around his neck before he could so much as take a step back, dragging him further inside like a lamb to slaughter.

He would’ve given anything to be home. Back at his setup. Back where he could peacefully queue up for League of Legends or post a hot take on a message board about dungeon tier lists. His teammates were probably on Discord right now, wondering why his little green light hadn’t turned on tonight.

That was then.

Somehow– Somehow, in the haze of being drunk or high out of their minds— Eren was out of it, Connie was asleep on Sasha’s lap, whose head was on a knocked out Jean’s shoulder. Mikasa, for how composed she usually was, was slumped next to Eren, his hand wrapped around hers— you had managed to finally snag the shy boy to yourself.

You’d only recently started hanging out with the gang, weaving your way into their circle with a kind of natural confidence Armin found both mesmerizing and terrifying. You’re funny. Loud in a charming way. You speak your mind, talk to Eren and Mikasa like you’ve known them for years, and make sly little jokes that leave Connie wheezing. Even Sasha likes you—and she doesn’t like anyone new.

But around you, Armin turns into scrambled code. He avoids eye contact. Stumbles over his words. Does that thing where he pushes up his glasses like a reflex even when they’re already in place.

And it wasn’t hard to realize that Armin liked you.

He wasn’t subtle—not in the way he’d glance up from his phone screen when you laughed a little too loudly, or the way his ears would burn pink every time you plopped down next to him during hangouts, hips brushing, thighs touching just barely. He'd sit there stiffly, eyes wide behind his glasses, thumbs still tapping away at whatever gacha game or tactics RPG he was grinding, pretending not to notice how your perfume clung to the air between you like static.

You’d catch him staring sometimes—well, more than sometimes. Once when you bent over to grab a charger, and again when you wore that cropped shirt with the worn-out neckline, his gaze getting stuck right where your collarbone dipped into something just a bit more scandalous. But he’d always look away just in time, pretending to clean his glasses or scroll deeper into Reddit threads.

The boy was practically a walking Tumblr post from 2013. Always in those oversized hoodies with the sleeves too long, fingers tucked halfway into the cuffs, his laptop stickers flaking off from years of aggressive clicking. His room, as you’d come to discover later, was nothing short of a digital command center. Dual monitors—one vertical, one horizontal—cast a cold RGB glow over his unmade bed and tangle of charging cables. His mechanical keyboard clicked loud enough to echo through the dorm floor, each keystroke deliberate. Rows of Funko Pops lined the top of his bookshelf, mostly anime characters and one out-of-place Miku figurine he shyly claimed was "cute."

And that chair—God, that chair. It was one of those ridiculous ergonomic gaming thrones with a headrest, a lumbar support pillow, and armrests that he always adjusted like he was gearing up for war. You could tell it was his pride and joy, considering how he refused to let anyone else sit in it. Except, of course, for that one time you snuck in during a group hangout and plopped down in it just to see how far he’d go before breaking—he just stood there, mouth open, shifting awkwardly until he gave up and sat on the floor beside you. Pathetic. Adorable.

So yeah, it wasn’t hard to realize Armin liked you. He was just painfully obvious about it in a way that made you all the more obsessed.

Especially after that day Eren—loud-mouthed, smug Eren—dropped the most shocking bit of information mid-conversation over nachos and beer.

“Guess who finally let me bully him into getting a tongue piercing?”

Your head had snapped around so fast it almost gave you whiplash. "You're kidding."

Eren had just grinned like the devil himself. “Nope. Took him to the place on 8th. Cried like a bitch but hey, he’s got it now.”

You’d turned to look at Armin, who was red as a tomato, sipping his Sprite like he wished he could disappear behind the carbonation. He didn’t even deny it.

You haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

Which brings you to now.

So when all of a sudden, you're sitting next to him on the too-small couch, murmuring something about there being something wrong with your phone, and desperately needing someone to fix it for you, and no, the dim lighting of the living room simply isn’t enough to inspect it properly—you somehow manage to drag him upstairs to one of the empty rooms, thigh pressed a little too close to his as you explain how glitchy your phone is, how you're so sure it must be some kind of weird virus, and wow, isn't that so crazy?

But cut the bullshit. Even Armin knew you were lying.

Phone glitching? Yeah, right. He’d seen your screen time stats by accident once—your camera roll was 95% front-facing selfies, memes, and blurry videos from nights out. He wasn’t stupid. But he was clueless—at least about your intentions.

You’d had a thing for him since day one, not that he knew, obviously. The first time Eren had pulled you into the fold, dragging you into their little friend group like some shiny new accessory, Armin had looked at you like you’d be gone by next week. He wasn’t good with new people—too shy, too stiff, too used to lurking in the background with his legs folded crisscross on the floor and his thumbs tapping away at his phone while everyone else drank and talked over each other.

Even now, when everyone hung out, Armin would be half-present—physically there, tucked into the corner of the room with his hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, but mentally god knows where. Probably grinding a mobile RPG or replying to a fan theory thread. He liked games where he could build things, micromanage every stat. His phone battery was always draining because he never stopped playing. Long, elegant fingers constantly moving, tapping, swiping. Even when you sat next to him, he couldn’t seem to stop. You once made a joke about how he probably tapped faster during battles than he would during sex.

You remember the way he’d choked on his Redbull.

But now—now he’s stuck. Sitting next to you in a quiet upstairs room, your perfume in his lungs, your thigh pressed right up against his, and your phone held limply between you both like some half-hearted prop.

He keeps glancing at you, lips parted like he wants to say something—anything—but nothing comes out.

“You gonna fix it or just keep staring at my lockscreen?” you tease, your voice low, syrupy sweet.

He blinks, startled, fumbling to grab the phone from your hands with a stuttered apology. “S-Sorry, I—um—yeah, let me just… check the settings, I guess.”

His hands shake slightly as he scrolls, and you bite your lip watching him. The way his jaw tenses, his brows furrow in concentration—it’s endearing. You wonder if he knows how flushed his ears are. You wonder if he knows how loud his breathing is.

You lean in just slightly, enough that your breath brushes the shell of his ear.

“You know,” you murmur, “I still haven’t seen that piercing.”

His entire body jolts. His fingers fumble the phone, almost dropping it in his lap. “W-What?”

You smile innocently, like you don’t already know exactly what you’re doing. “Your tongue. Eren told me. Kinda wanna see it for myself.”

Armin swallows hard, eyes wide as he looks at you like you just asked him to strip naked. “I-I mean, it’s not—It’s nothing, really. I-it’s just… uh…”

“C’mon,” you coax, fingers brushing the side of his knee. “I’m curious.”

He hesitates. Then, shakily, he sticks his tongue out just a little—just enough for the cool glint of metal to catch the light. Your stomach flips.

God, you didn’t expect that to be so hot. On him, of all people.

“You’re full of surprises, Armin Arlert,” you whisper, eyes meeting his.

And you swear to god, if you didn’t know better, you’d say the look in his eyes shifts. Just a little. Like something in him snaps or gives in. Like he’s done pretending he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“…Is your phone actually broken?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You grin. “Not even a little.”

And for once—for once—Armin smirks.

It's crooked. Barely there. But it's smug in the quietest, most devastating way, because he knows now. You're not here because of some bullshit glitch or broken screen. You're here for him.

The second you lean in, brushing a strand of his blond hair out of his face, he freezes—like a deer caught in headlights. His breath hitches, lips parting just slightly, and his fingers tense where they’re still holding your phone like it’s a lifeline.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before,” you say softly, not a question. Just an observation.

His cheeks flush bright red. He doesn’t answer.

You cock your head, smiling. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

His breath catches again, sharp and audible this time, and he shifts a little like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands—does he drop your phone? Hold it? Hold you?

You take the decision away for him, gently slipping it from his fingers and setting it down on the nightstand. Then, without breaking eye contact, you slowly slide onto his lap, one knee at a time, until you’re straddling his narrow hips, hands settling on his shoulders.

His whole body goes stiff. “Ah… I’m not sure if we should be— mmph!”

You kiss his lips again, silencing him effectively.

“Armin,” you say as you pull back, voice low and amused. “Relax.”

He doesn’t. Not entirely. But his hands hover awkwardly near your waist now, like he’s trying to be respectful, like he’s afraid if he touches you wrong, the moment will combust.

You lean forward, just enough that your noses nearly brush.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

He obeys, lashes fluttering shut. You let your lips graze his, soft and tentative, barely a kiss at all—just enough for him to taste your breath, to feel the warmth of you against his mouth.

He shivers.

You pull back slightly, your voice like silk against his ear. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

He exhales shakily. “It’s… it’s good. You’re… good.”

You smile. “You haven’t even gotten the full lesson yet.”

And then you kiss him.

Really kiss him.

You press your mouth against his fully this time, slow and confident, your lips moving gently over his like you’ve got all the time in the world. He kisses back clumsily at first, a little too much pressure, a little off with the rhythm, but it’s adorable, and you can feel the way his whole body trembles under you.

You guide him with quiet murmurs between kisses. “Slower… softer, yeah… there. Just like that.”

His hands finally land on your waist, unsure at first, then a little firmer when you deepen the kiss, your fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. You part your lips slowly, and when he instinctively mimics you—nervous, but curious—you feel it.

The smooth, cool ball of metal.

You pause just barely, lips still brushing his, a grin curling at the corners of your mouth. “There it is.”

“Huh?” he whispers, dazed.

“That piercing,” you murmur, voice thick with heat. “Feels so fucking good.”

You kiss him again, and this time your tongue finds his. The sensation of the cold stud sliding against yours sends a sharp little jolt straight through your spine. It’s addictive. You roll your hips slightly against his, and he gasps into your mouth, fingers tightening on your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to pull you closer or push you away.

He tastes like mint and nervous energy, and the little helpless noises he lets out when you suck on his bottom lip are enough to make your thighs clench around his lap.

You pull back for a second, just to look at him. His lips are flushed, slightly swollen, eyes glazed with something between awe and pure panic.

“You okay?” you whisper, thumb brushing across his cheek.

He nods, almost too fast. “Y-Yeah. I just—I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

You lean in again, lips ghosting over his jaw. “That’s just the beginning.”

He groans—actually groans—and it’s the hottest fucking sound you’ve ever heard from him. You swear you feel him twitch beneath you. His hips shift slightly, involuntarily, and the friction makes both of you gasp.

You grab a fistful of his hoodie, tugging him back into another kiss, messier this time. Less structured. All tongue and heat and shallow breaths. That piercing catches on your lip as you suck on his tongue, and you moan softly against his mouth.

He's kissing you like he wants to prove something now. Still hesitant, still learning, but eager. Hungry. His hands slide up under your shirt, still shy but bolder than before, fingertips ghosting over the bare skin of your waist.

You roll your hips against him again, deliberately this time, and the noise he makes—somewhere between a whimper and a curse—goes straight to your core.

You smile into the kiss, breathless. “You’re such a quick learner.”

He swallows thickly. “I—I wanna keep learning.”

“Yeah?” You rock against him again, and his eyes flutter shut. “You will.”

You dip your head to press a kiss to his neck, right below his jaw. He gasps, tilting his head back like it’s instinct, and you suck a slow, wet mark into the pale skin, making him jolt beneath you.

“You’re so sensitive,” you whisper. “Bet I could make you fall apart with just my mouth.”

He whimpers.

And fuck, that sound does something to you.

You're grinding against him now, fully, the heat between your legs pressing right against the growing bulge in his pants. The way his hips buck up helplessly, like he can’t stop himself, is intoxicating.

You mouth at his jaw, then his ear, letting your breath tickle the shell of it.

“Armin,” you purr, “do you want me to show you more?”

He looks up at you like he’s ready to beg.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Please. Show me everything.”

You don’t make him ask twice.

You kiss him again, deep and slow, feeling the way he melts into it now. No hesitation—just heat, want, and the softest desperation in how his mouth opens for you like he’s starving. You taste that metal ball again, glide your tongue along it, and the sound he makes—fuck, you’re obsessed.

Your hips move instinctively, grinding down on his lap, and you can feel him. Hard. Pressed right up against your core through his worn out jeans and your shorts. The friction draws a moan from your throat that has his eyes fluttering open, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his. “You’re so hard already.”

He nods, frantic, breath stuttering. “I—yeah, I can’t—I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh.” You cup his jaw, tilt his face up. “Don’t be embarrassed. You think I didn’t want that?”

You shift just a little, rolling your hips down with purpose, dragging your clothed pussy against his cock. He chokes on a gasp, his fingers digging into your waist like he’s trying to stop himself from bucking up into you again. You grab his hand, beckoning him to slip his fingers under your shorts, under the waistband of your panties.

“Feel how wet I am for you?” you murmur, lips brushing his ear.

He nods again, helpless. “Yeah—yeah, I feel it—fuck—”

You smile wickedly and grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one motion. His mouth drops open.

He stares.

Hard.

Like he’s short-circuiting. Like he’s never seen anyone naked before and can’t figure out where to look. His hands twitch like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

You guide them to your tits.

“Touch me, baby,” you say softly. “It’s okay. You can.”

He swallows hard and palms your breasts gently, reverently, like he’s afraid to squeeze too hard. His thumbs ghost over your nipples and you sigh, arching your back into his touch, giving him a show.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes.

“You’re cute,” you reply, pushing your hips down again. “And obedient.”

He whimpers at that.

You roll your hips slow and steady, grinding on him until you feel his thighs start to tremble beneath you.

Then you lean down, lips brushing his. “I want you to eat me out.”

His eyes widen. “I—what? I’ve never—”

“I’ll guide you. Just do what I say.”

You’re already sliding off his lap, standing between his legs and shimmying your shorts and underwear down in one motion. His breath stutters when he sees you like that, bare and dripping, your thighs glistening in the low light.

You make a move to lie back on the bed, but he stops you, pink in the face.

“S–Sorry, I– ah– Can you ride my face? Please?”

He looks like he wants to wipe his existence off the planet because why’d he say that in such a high pitched tone, why’d he stutter like that, why’d his voice crack when he said please, why'd he—

But you just giggle amusedly, pushing him back onto the bed, straddling his face.

His whole body tenses like he’s trying not to combust. “Are you sure you’re okay with thi—?”

You don’t answer. Just lower your hips slowly until you’re hovering just above his mouth.

“Open up.”

He does, and when your pussy presses against his lips, you sigh like it’s relief. He’s clumsy at first—licking too shallow, too soft—but you guide him. “Use your tongue. Flatten it—yeah, just like that. A little harder. Good. Fuck, Armin.”

The moment his tongue finds your clit, you moan, your hips jolting forward. And the pressure of that cold little ball dragging against your most sensitive spot?

It’s over.

You’re grinding on his face now, fingers buried in his soft blond hair, riding him through sloppy, wet licks and messy kisses that leave your thighs shaking. He moans beneath you, hands gripping your hips like he’s into it, like the taste of you is something he wants to memorize. His piercing continuously flicks against your clit, making you whine and shudder, thighs clamping around his head. And soon enough, you’re coming all over his tongue, his name leaving your mouth prettily.

He’s hard again—probably never stopped being hard—and when you finally can’t take it anymore, you slide down his body and palm him through his jeans.

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes wide as you feel the outline of him. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He covers his face with one arm, flushed and overwhelmed. “I didn’t know I’d get like that so fast.”

“You’re adorable.” You lean down and press a kiss just above his waistband. “Let me take care of you.”

He whimpers again.

And when you tug his jeans down, his cock bounces free—hard, flushed, leaking at the tip. You stroke him once, slow and firm, and his whole body jolts.

“Oh my god,” he chokes, hands fisting the sheets. “I—I don’t think I can—”

“You can.” You kiss the head of his cock, swirl your tongue around it just once, and watch him squirm.

Then you straddle him again.

“Wait—” he gasps. “Are you—are we really—”

You line him up with your entrance, slow and steady, and you moan when the tip slips in.

“Fuck yes, baby,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as you sink down inch by inch. “You’re inside me.”

He’s panting, chest rising and falling like he’s about to pass out. “You feel… holy shit…”

“Tight?” you tease, grinding down once you’re seated fully.

He nods, eyes wide, mouth open. “I’m not gonna last—”

“You’ll learn,” you murmur, starting to move. “I’m gonna teach you everything.”

And as you ride him—slow, deliberate, dragging every sweet sound out of him—you know for a fact that this won’t be the last lesson. You bounce up and down on him, watching with a gaze full of lust and amusement as he croons your name, head thrown back, drool escaping the side of his lip, thick glasses askew.

He looks like he’s unraveling. Like his brain stopped functioning five minutes ago. Like all he can focus on is the way your cunt squeezes him every time you drop down.

“F-Fuck, you feel so good,” he whimpers, voice cracking with raw need. “I c-can’t… I’m not gonna last…”

You lean forward, letting your chest brush against his, your lips brushing his mouth as you whisper, “That’s okay. Just give it to me.”

His hands are shaking where they grip your hips, but he tries to match your rhythm anyway, pulling you down harder every time your ass slaps against his thighs. He’s trying so hard to keep it together for you—sweet, trembling thing, so eager to please despite how close he is.

“I–I’m gonna– I’m gonna– I don’t have a condom on, I—”

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, kissing the edge of his jaw, tongue flicking over his pulse point. “Just pull out, baby. I’ve got you.”

And it’s like your voice alone is enough to break him.

His grip tightens—frantic, bruising—and you barely have time to lift off before he comes, gasping your name like a prayer. Thick ropes spill over his stomach, twitching cock pulsing as he groans and writhes beneath you, flushed and utterly wrecked. His glasses have slid halfway down his nose, and he’s too dazed to fix them.

You exhale through a low laugh, trailing your fingers through his release before bringing them to your mouth and sucking them clean, just to tease him. His breath stutters at the sight, and his eyes roll slightly as he pants beneath you.

You collapse next to him, both of you catching your breath in the quiet, sticky air. The room smells like sweat and sex and faint body spray, and outside the door you can still hear the low thrum of party music, muffled now like the two of you are in a different world entirely.

He’s quiet. Still. Hands awkwardly covering himself, glasses pushed to the side. You catch the way his lashes flutter, how red his cheeks are, how he refuses to meet your eyes.

You turn on your side, resting your head on one hand. “What’s wrong?”

He swallows hard. “That was my first time,” he says softly. “Like… all of it. Kissing, sex, everything.”

You pause, the weight of his admission settling into the space between you. He glances up at you finally, face filled with anxiety.

“I… I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

Your heart aches a little.

You reach out and gently remove his glasses, setting them on the nightstand, then cradle his face in your hand.

“Armin,” you say, voice low and sincere, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. You have no idea.”

He blinks, surprised.

“You were perfect,” you say, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “And I like that it was me. I like being the first.”

His face turns even redder, if that’s possible. “I–I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

“That’s the fun part.” You smile, brushing a strand of his hair off his forehead. “Means I get to teach you everything.”

He hides his face against your shoulder, groaning. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laugh softly, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You’re such a cutie.”

You lay there together in the silence for a while, his head nestled against your chest, his arms tentatively curling around you like he’s not sure he’s allowed to hold you yet. You run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging here and there, and you feel him relax more and more under your touch.

“You still nervous?” you murmur after a while.

“A little,” he admits, voice muffled. “I just… I’ve never done this. Any of it. I don’t want to mess things up with you.”

You kiss the top of his head. “You’re not. I like you.”

He lifts his head to look at you, shy but hopeful. “Really?”

“Mhm.” You brush your lips against his again. “I’ve liked you since I saw you trailing behind Eren with your stupid oversized hoodie and your Switch in your hands like you were allergic to human interaction.”

He laughs, sheepish. “I kind of am.”

You grin. “And I kind of love that.”

He watches you for a moment, eyes soft and a little awestruck. Then he leans forward, kisses you with all the gentleness and hesitance of someone who’s just now realizing he might be falling for someone, and you smile into it, warm and full and smug.

Because you know you’ve got him.

—

It’s official now. You’re Armin’s girlfriend.

It had happened somewhere between all the blushing kisses and stolen glances and slow, breathy I like you’s whispered in the privacy of his bedroom. There was no dramatic confession, no rose petals or fireworks. Just him looking at you one afternoon with that overwhelmed, adoring gaze, thumb brushing over your knuckles while he mumbled, “Do you, um… want to be mine? Like… officially?”

And you’d kissed him stupid in response.

So now, two weeks later, you’re at his place again, perched sideways on his lap in his gaming chair, legs draped over one armrest while his are stretched beneath the desk, twitching slightly every time something exciting happens on screen.

You’re wearing one of his hoodies—big, soft, and smelling like fabric softener and his shampoo—and nothing else underneath. Which he hasn’t noticed. Yet.

His focus is laser-sharp, blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth like he’s fighting for his life on whatever boss battle he’s got going. You shift a little, trying to get comfortable in his lap, but he doesn’t even flinch—just grunts something about “just give me a second, babe, I’m in the middle of something.”

And yeah, it’s a little infuriating. But also?

Ridiculously hot.

Like, his headset is way too big on him. He keeps muttering things under his breath about cooldowns and mechanics and DPS output. His fingers are flying across the keys, long and elegant and twitchy, like they were built to type essays at the speed of sound or code random passion projects no one ever asked for.

At one point, he actually shushes you. A little breathy “waitwaitwait– babe, hold on, this guy’s cheesing—oh my god I swear to god if this fucking healer dies I’m gonna—”

You blink. Then snort.

“You’re so nerdy,” you murmur, voice laced with amusement, “I can’t believe this is my boyfriend.”

He doesn’t look up. “You knew what I was when you signed up.”

“Oh, I did.” You lean in, dragging your fingers up the nape of his neck, just under the headset. “And I like it.”

He shudders a little. “You’re distracting me.”

“I know.”

Still, he plays. Fidgety, intense, mouthing instructions to himself like some kind of adorable, socially anxious commander. You watch the screen for a bit, half-understanding what’s happening—some massive raid, particles flying everywhere, his team yelling in the Discord chat you can hear leaking through his headphones. Armin doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s surprisingly confident. Precise.

“No, back left! You kite, I’ll stun—good—shit, I got hit, that’s fine, I’ve got mana—”

You shift again. This time a little more deliberately.

His hands pause on the keyboard. “...Are you doing that on purpose?”

You blink at him innocently. “Doing what?”

“You’re… squirming.”

You tilt your head, smiling. “I’m just trying to sit comfortably, Armin. Your thighs are kinda bony.”

“I—what? I—”

He falters. And you know he’s starting to get flustered. Because his hand slips on his mouse, and he curses softly under his breath as his character takes a hit onscreen.

“Can’t believe I’m being insulted and sabotaged right now,” he mumbles.

“I’m your girlfriend,” you remind him, turning so you’re fully straddling him now, knees on either side of his hips, “it’s in the job description.”

He swallows thickly. You can feel him beneath you now—half-hard already, tension building the longer you stay in his lap.

“Please let me finish this fight,” he whispers, jaw tight.

You kiss the edge of it.

“Okay.”

So you wait. Sort of.

You shift again. Start pressing little kisses to his throat. Let your fingers toy with the edge of his shirt, lifting it just slightly. Not enough to distract him fully. Just enough to make him sweat.

By the time he finally mutters a breathless, “Got him, holy shit,” and slumps back in the chair, he’s panting and flushed—and not just from the game.

You lean in, both hands planted on his chest now, smiling sweetly.

“All done?”

He nods.

“Good.” And then you roll your hips once against his, slow and deliberate.

He makes a soft, broken sound in his throat. “Y-You’re evil.”

“Mmhm,” you hum, dipping down to kiss him again, this time deeper, tongue teasing the edge of that stupid metal piercing he still refuses to tell you the story behind.

It’s so easy to ruin him.

His hands flutter uselessly for a second before they land on your hips, gripping like he’s still not sure he’s allowed to touch you. You grind down harder, and he whines into your mouth, glasses fogging up, hips twitching like he’s not in control of his own body anymore.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice high and shaking. “I’m—I was just trying to game.”

“You’ll live,” you whisper, licking into his mouth again. “Besides… I like seeing you like this. So desperate for me.”

He groans.

And you know right then, without a doubt, this little nerd is already obsessed with you. Completely and utterly whipped.

author's note: HELL YEAH I LOVE NERDIFYING ANIME MEN!!!! fantastic give me 14 more of them bzzzzz

seriously when i saw this fanart the first thing i did was open up google docs and get my ass to WORK i feel like by now its really obvious i have a thing for nerds :3

hope u guys #enjoyed i have a really bad tongue piercing fixation, not sure if it was obvious... (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

#armin arlert #nerd armin #armin aot #armin arlert x reader #armin smut #armin arlert x reader smut #aot smut #nerdmin #nerdmin x reader #nerdmin smut #armin x reader #aot fanfiction #snk armin #aot x reader #aot reader x reader smut

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thehatboxwitch · 1 month ago

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anaxagoras yandere profile. gender neutral, TW // nsfw mentions, yandere. credits once again to cinnamonest. :)

What is he generally like? Is he self-aware, lucid, or obsessive? How does he behave?

Anaxa has the inherent desire to understand, and through that, conquer. It's the reason why he refuses to acknowledge gods as a power greater than himself, and why he believes strongly that the flame-chase is an unnecessary endeavour.

In that vein, he spirals into a sort of delusional, worshipping, yet condescending attitude towards you. He treats you like... a god in his grasp that he can control and own. We know he's obsessive through and through, and he can be blindsided by his own stubbornness and insistence on being right. (Granted, he usually is, which doesn't help your case.)

He's not quite lucid like Phainon or Mydeimos would be - he acts in his own way, and treats you as some sort of experiment. If you end up loving him back, that's the preferred outcome, but hating him is just an obstacle to him. Anaxa is convinced he would have some way to warm you up to him, just another problem to be solved.

How do you meet him?

I imagine the situation to be something domestic and peaceful - maybe you encounter him in the market and strike up friendly conversation. Anaxa is fascinated by the attitudes of the people of Okhema towards life, their ability to carry on with their grocery shopping and gossips like the world is no bigger than they perceive it. You’re bright but not terribly so, just enough to meet him with an open mind and polite curiosity.

He'd like someone sharp enough to bounce off (dull knives bore him terribly), but not really someone sassier or more troublesome than himself. He likes the feeling of being relied on as well, and having someone to come home to after galivanting about and setting Aglaea's temper off.

How likely will he kidnap his darling?

8.5/10 - it does seem quite likely. Be it in his personal home or in the Grove, Anaxa would want to keep you somewhere where he could monitor you at all times, like mould in a petri dish of his making. If he doesn’t kidnap you, be prepared to have people breathing down your neck at all time; students from the Grove, guards, even Anaxa himself. But it’d be easier for him to simply sweep you up and take you wherever he’s going next.

How difficult is it to escape from him? How does he restrain his darling? How does he deal with attempted escape?

If Anaxa doesn’t presently need you for anything, he doesn’t really care if you’re wandering elsewhere in the house trying to avoid him. He has traps and mazes set up to confuse you and keep you occupied, and when you think you've gotten out, you realise you've just been turning in his palm all along. Difficulty 10/10 - he knows you better than you know yourself.

Attempted escape is just another something he takes in stride. Your penchant for trying to get out all the time is something he encourages to an extent. He nudges you in the direction of little clues, like letting slip that a window is unlocked somewhere, then amuses himself watching you scurry around, straining your mind to work out his puzzles like watching a mouse solve a scientist's maze.

Usually 'punishment' is something of an NSFW nature. It's more of a reward for him, really.

How easy is it to trick, deceive, or manipulate him?

0/10. It's not easy, and Anaxa would never let you even think that you've led him on. It doesn't play to his ego. There's no trickery, deception, or manipulation that he lets slide. This is where he draws the line - lies are a big negative for him, and if you want to piss him off, this is probably how to do it. But I wouldn't recommend it. Anaxa has a fearsome temper.

What kind of punishments would he use?

Anaxa's punishments range from evil (academic) to evil (physical). If he so desires, he sticks you with painstakingly sorting through a stack of papers, arranged by year, in alphabetical order. Tiring, mundane tasks like that. It frustrates you so badly to tears that you often think twice before going against him again.

Evil (physical) punishments would be NSFW. He doesn't really mean for them to be punishments more than he means them to be a reward for himself. He'll deny you pleasure, have you serve him until your jaw aches, leave bites and bruises until you're red and raw. He likes the power that he has over you, and he likes knowing that your body can be manipulated to betray you.

How does he deal with rivals, or perceived rivals?

He doesn't quite perceive people as rivals, but rather nuisances that are getting in his way. Be it a brother who's sniffing around too close to the truth, or a colleague who wants to have a meal with you one time too many, they're all the same to Anaxa. Just another obstacle to be overcome.

He's an efficient individual. He can't really be bothered with the patience of having to manipulate and work someone out of your life, so if they disappear, it's likely that they're dead. Anaxa would never trust anyone other than himself with such an important task, so you can trust that he'd be the one with blood on his hands.

How easy is it to make him mad? What does his anger look like?

Fairly easy, if you know where to hit where it hurts, but it also depends on his mood. Sometimes Anaxa finds it amusing how hard you're trying to rile him up, and he plays your game, deflecting and working you into a corner until you have nowhere to go and have to admit defeat. Other times if he's had a long day, he doesn't quite have the patience to play mind games. You'll quickly find yourself pinned down and silenced that way.

Does he see you as above, beneath, or equal to him?

Beneath him, absolutely. He doesn't believe in gods. What do you think?

How determined is he for you to love him, or is he content just having you?

Anaxa isn't really that determined, honestly. He's here to play the long game, not really to win - if either of you die and you've never loved him, so be it. Some projects are simply destined to end in failure.

That's not to say that he won't try, of course. The fun is in the journey!

General perverseness: How sexual is he? What's his drive like? Touchy?

It's not quite about the pleasure for him, but the power. Like I mentioned earlier, he likes knowing that he's able to manipulate your body and have it betray you - which to him is the ultimate, most intimate betrayal.

He's not against all the pleasure of it all, of course. If he so wished, Anaxa might get turned on by just seeing a sliver of your skin or you could be grinding against him with zero reaction. He treats touch as more of a tool, rather than finding comfort in it i.e. holding you close, restraining you, guiding you through whatever pleasure he wants (or doesn't want) you to experience that day.

What body parts of his darling does he like the most?

Waist. He likes holding you around it (even if you're bigger), tucking you into his side and very much unable to get away. Or he holds you as he guides you up and down as you ride him.

What is it with him and power? Poor thing.

#hsr x reader smut #hsr x reader #x reader smut #honkai star rail #star rail #yandere anaxa #anaxa #anaxagoras #yan!anaxa #yandere anaxagoras #yan!anaxagoras #anaxa hsr #hsr anaxa #anaxagoras hsr #hsr anaxagoras

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thelivingautomaton · 5 months ago

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MANNNNNNNNN ok. not to get my SEVERANCE brainworms all over the place but i literally cannot stop thinking about this show. also i keep reading theories on reddit and some of them are really good and some are unbelievably stupid/media-illiterate. so i am dumping my wild predictions/theorizing/thoughts on season 2 here. Please Enjoy Every Bullet Point Equally(TM)

OKAY let's get the big one out of the way: it seems pretty apparent now that cold harbor (and maybe all of the datasets mdr is given to "refine") is binning memories/experiences/brainwaves into severance chips, likely in order to reformat or rebuild someone's personality from the ground up.

this reddit post sums a lot of the evidence up but tl;dr you see an electron microscopy image of neural axons, as well as an etCO2 statistic, which is typically used to monitor respiration of someone who's in a coma or on ventilation

MOREOVER, the four aspects of mdr's data line up with kier eagan's four tempers (woe, frolic, dread, malice -- i've also seen it pointed out that this aligns with the four mdr workers, and in the original pilot script there's a reference to "needing" four workers, but iirc they all work on separate files??), and apparently one of his Whole Things(TM) was the idea that you can neatly sort a person's entire personality into those four boxes

the numbers provoke an emotional response in the refiner based on their interpretation of the data, which we can surmise is likely neural/electrical signals of some kind, specifically from brains that have been frozen or cryogenically preserved and are slowly being thawed. hence all the stress over "finishing" files on time, before they "expire" (i.e. brain thaws too much)

the opening credits for season 2 places a HUGE emphasis on big swollen misshapen heads, on brains, and also on ice...including a blink-and-you-miss-it glimpse of a crashed car sinking into the ice, which takes us into our next big point:

gemma obviously didn't die in the car crash BUT!!! lumon taking her and (presumably) replacing her body with a double (mark says he identified her but that she was also "burned" so that's obviously questionable) was actually something of a random fluke. for whatever reason the circumstances of her death made it so that she was ideal to use as a guinea pig for "part-time employment"

again, kind of going off the s2 opening credits here and the image of the car sinking into the ice -- obvs mark visited the tree where she crashed, but i feel like i remember he had to drive on a bridge overlooking a body of water to get there? maybe gemma and the car both fell in and were frozen (since everything in SEVERANCE apparently happens in the wintertime, lol)

i mean, it wouldn't surprise me if we learn that the car accident was "arranged" by lumon??? (either purely to harvest bodies or potentially if gemma turns out to have been involved in anti-eagan stuff on the DL) but idk, i don't love the idea cos i don't like it when shows try to tie LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE THING together into the big overarching mystery, y'know? like, some things are really just down to dumb luck and chance

i also don't think miss casey herself is a clone of gemma, so either her body was WAY less fucked up by the car crash physically than we might otherwise think, or lumon has some top-secret super-healing tech on the testing floor. maybe both!

ANYWAY, remember "allentown"? mark s's first-day fluke, where he completed a file in one day? that was him refining gemma into miss casey the first time around. YADDA YADDA LOVE TRANSCENDS SEVERANCE he literally put the splintered icy fragments of his dead wife back together again because she LIVES IN HIS VEINS guys. and now he's doing it AGAIN with cold harbor. this is why lumon was so desperate to keep him around even while they fired irving and dylan at the drop of a hat: they know he can get the job done, ESPECIALLY when it comes to working on gemma/miss casey. (see also: mark w commenting about how his team from the branch that shut down never made quota)

i've seen the idea tossed around that all the refiners are assigned to someone who was emotionally close to their outie (e.g. irving's deceased father) but i really don't think that's the case -- like, dylan says mark's freshman fluke let lumon devise new techniques for refining to cut down on the time it takes to finish a file, and istg i can see it perfectly in my head: cobel asking mark s how the FUCK he managed to do that and him just being like "i don't know, the numbers looked...scary??????" and her just. rolling with it.

(also i feel like that's why dylan's generally a good refiner -- he can read people! his outie knew what to say and how to act to impress the door factory guy in s2e2!)

so lumon really really needs cold harbor to work. if it's not because they care about gemma SPECIFICALLY for some secret reason, it must be that they care about the technique. lumon (i.e. the board and/or the eagan family), like so many corporate overlords before them, are selling immortality.

i'm on the fence about whether they're trying to resurrect/immortalize kier eagan specifically -- like it would make the most thematic sense, and they have a ton of material FROM his life certainly to work with, but he's supposed to have died in 1939 and cryonics tech just wasn't advanced enough at the time. but also the world of SEVERANCE is pretty distinct from our own so i guess it's plausible

i feel much more confident in saying they're trying to get the technique working specifically for the sake of current ceo jame eagan, who is an old decrepit fart. imo the "revolving" he mentions to helly in the s1 finale is key to this -- like, it kind of sounds like eagan-speak for rotating through/swapping into a new body???

this MIGHT be where the idea of cloning becomes involved, which i can see supported by the emphasis in the s2 opening credits on babies (including baby kier at the end ofc), but i also just had the even more fucked up thought that what if the end goal is to upload the eagans' personalities (and those of their chosen cronies) into the bodies of severed workers. hence the continued necessity for a severed working underclass as well as their ruling higher-ups -- it's a body farm, an endless cycle of severed workers toiling away to let the rich live on and then having their bodies/minds/souls co-opted when they've lost their other utility. oh my god helly was right THEY LITERALLY ARE LIVESTOCK

guys holy shit what if the season ends with jame (or KIER) eagan's personality getting uploaded into miss casey's chip and overwriting miss casey (and also gemma?? idk i feel like mark scout/mark s are both going to have to come to terms with the idea that gemma as she was is capital-g Gone, even if her body and brain are still sort of alive). and then season 3 has dichen lachman chewing the scenery as creepy old man eagan. I THINK IT WOULD BE FUN AND ALSO FUCKED UP

okay so what about cobel, right? like, obviously she's been drinking the eagan kool-aid, she is All In on immortalizing kier (or jame or whoever). but there's more to it than that!!! she's the one harping on about reintegration being real and possible, AND she's desperate seeking for any signs of it during mark s and miss casey's wellness sessions. why? cobel wants to revive her mother charlotte (we see her medical tag on cobel's eagan shrine), but she wants HER MOTHER, not a blank slate -- in other words she's rooting for the chips to not function properly in order to truly resurrect someone who's been dead

in particular i think this is why she flipped her lid on mark at the end of s2e2 when he asked what she knew about gemma -- like, idk maybe it's confirmation bias at play but to me her primal scream felt like it was coming from a place of...jealousy? like, "how DARE you ask me that, how are YOU the one who's allowed to get your loved one back and I'M being promoted up the ladder so lumon can get me out of the way even though MY motivations are pure". that kind of thing

cobel's attitude towards lumon and helena in s2e2 is SUUUUUUPER ambiguous -- i think she's going to turn from outright enemy into kind of a weird "enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing this season?? especially since i got the feeling that she really did kind of care about mark and devon in her own supremely weird, fucked-up way

oh god you guys. what if her "mrs selvig" persona was cobel imitating her own mother, mid-atlantic accent and corny outdated references to clark gable and all. FUCK

also the fact that she's looking for miss casey and mark s to remember each other implies that reintegration is possible even without outside interference with the chip itself (i.e. however reghabi reintegrated petey). and you know what?

i think she's right.

THE BIG BOY THEORY: MARK SCOUT AND MARK S WILL START TO SPONTANEOUSLY REINTEGRATE THIS SEASON

i will live and die on this hill, ben stiller i swear to FUCK

what's the overriding symbolism in the season 1 opening credits?? the line between innie and outie is porous (or "mushy", if you will). black sludge seeping from the trash cans that's made of all your other selves (also reflecting how irving dreams of his outie's black paint). mark's innie and outie selves constantly chasing circles around one another until at the end they both collapse on the bed...and then collapse together as a single person.

what's the overriding symbolism in the season 2 opening credits???? not just "mark scout, i.e. mark in red pajamas, delving into lumon's mysteries", not just "mushy confusion of innie and outie feelings re: helly and miss casey" -- mark's innie and outie selves working together. innie mark pulling outie mark out of the severance chip. innie mark hoisting up the curtain dividing outer and inner worlds to let outie mark through. innie mark CARRYING OUTIE MARK IN HIS ARMS. do you see the fucking vision.

of course that's also coupled with the final image of the credits: mark bursting through and out of his own head. which i think emphasizes that there's going to be conflict as well as cooperation between mark's disparate selves (especially when it comes to everything involving the helly/mark/casey love triangle)

why did mark look like he was having a goddamn seizure when he was coming down the elevator. why did he glimpse a mysterious figure following him in the hallway. WHY THE FUCK WAS HIS VERY FIRST INSTINCT TO BOLT FOR WELLNESS AND LOOK FOR MISS CASEY!!!!! (okay this could also conceivably be due to him yelling to devon that she was alive literally one second ago but still)

i think mark's "spontaneous reintegration" is also more or less an insane fluke, basically a product of the fact that he's now working on gemma/miss casey's refinement data AGAIN and both his innie and outie selves are starting to blur together regarding their shock and turmoil over the realization that gemma is alive (and probably loads of other stuff too while we're at it).

but idk, maybe spontaneous reintegration also occurs naturally over time? irving is also having some bleed-through and iirc he's been at lumon the longest of all of them

shit dude. what if outie burt ALSO has bleed-through and that's why he followed irving and was crying. honestly what the fuck was even the deal with that, i don't know!!!!

anyway i imagine that "spontaneous reintegration" would really put a kibosh in lumon's plans to permanently rewire and wipe the brains of severed folks in order to pave the way for an immortal ruling class. also i thought the way they did petey's hallucinatory flip-flopping between his lives/selves was awesome and i would like more of that, please. (also: i miss petey, y'all)

i think if they do end up going this route it's gonna be spoonfed to us pretty slowly though -- like, s2 will slowly build up the mystery of "what the fuck's going on with mark reintegrating", then s3 is his two selves coming to terms with...All Of That

those are all of my big idea theories but i also have some smaller bullet points to address:

dylan's gonna visit his family in the """visitation suite""" and it 100% is going to be paid lumon actors. and the giveaway is gonna come at the end of the episode when we cut back to outie dylan's life and his wife (or one of his other kids, who knows) is terminally sick (maybe wheelchair- or bed-bound?), hence outie dylan's desperation to find another job post-firing

that is one million percent helena eagan down on the severed floor (although i can see the argument for it being helly r and she's just not comfortable sharing her real experience on the outside). her shady story aside, i think britt lower is CRUSHING IT as "helena pretending to be helly but it's kind of off-putting and fake because it's helena's idea of how helly would behave". like, it's giving me the same vibes as in FRINGE when fauxlivia pretends to be olivia and then seduces/sleeps with peter. real ones know

RICKEN IS NOT A FUCKING SECRET EAGAN!!!!!! DEVON IS NOT SECRETLY IN ON ANYTHING (besides keeping her brother safe)!!!!!! HIS FRIENDS ARE JUST PRETENTIOUS SHITHEELS!!!!!!!!!!!!

as much as i would literally chew glass (positive) for mark s and miss casey to be A Thing, i feel like narratively and thematically it's not gonna work with the show's overarching themes of like, struggling to process grief and selfhood and figuring out what makes you you (or someone else their own independent self). gemma is Gone and you can't bring her back and you can't cut yourself off from the grief and the pain. mark has to reintegrate (literally and metaphorically/emotionally) in order to resolve his issues and move on

this show is so!!!!!! OOOOOUUUUGGGGHHGHGHH

#severance #severance spoilers #automatonic posting #if anyone actually reads all this: congrats. you are now in as deep as i am

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hiyashortking · 8 months ago

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Drunk Dialing Lucifer

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Extra warning for this one: There are two suicide comments in the forms of “dark jokes” from the you/reader character. These comments are not challenged and they might hurt to read. Take care of yourselves, darlings. Suicide is not funny and if this was a full novel I would make sure to address that.

Summary: You drunk text and drunk dial Lucifer. He does the same for you later to help you cope with your embarrassment.

Text Message Exchanges

You: i want to duck you so bad, and ducking call you daddy the whole ducking time

Lucifer: Angel, are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?

You: this is not angeldust

You: duck, luci, it’s y/n

Lucifer: Yes, of course, darling. Where are you? Are you with someone? I tried calling but you’re not picking up. I’m worried.

You: im drunk

Lucifer: It appears so. Where are you?

You: i dnt know

Lucifer: Who are you with, darling?

You: vag char ad nifffff f f ty

Lucifer to Charlie: Cherub, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Charlie: They’re fine. Should I take their phone?

Lucifer: No, that’s okay, sweetheart. Thank you! Have fun!

Lucifer to Vaggie: Maggie, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Vaggie: Yes, Sir.

Vaggie: They are intoxicated. It appears 3 Long Island Iced Teas have been fully consumed. With their weight and height, this does not appear to be concerning, though I will prevent any further intake. They appear to be in good spirits, though unable to stand without assistance at this time. I will provide ongoing monitoring and support. Is this satisfactory?

Lucifer: 👍

Lucifer to Angel Dust: Angel Dust, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Angel Dust: oh no Y/N and I are in big trouble, we need a powerful, strong, sexy man to come save us

Lucifer: Are you serious? Tell me where you are and I’ll be right there!

Angel Dust: relaxxx, daddy, all of your princesses and princes are just fine, but hmu later if you’re feeling lonely

Incoming Call from Y/N

Lucifer: Hi, sweetheart. I’ve been reassured that you are safe and well.

You: You are so pretty. Do you know that? I hope you know that.

Lucifer: Why, thank you. That is very sweet!

You: You have gorgeous eyes and I love your teeth. I bet it’s easy for you to make someone bleed; I bet you can’t even nibble on someone without piercing their skin.

Lucifer: Oh my. I should be sitting down for this.

You: I should be sitting on your face.

Lucifer: That- that can be arranged, darling. I didn’t know you felt like this about me. Or is it the alcohol talking? Shoot, should I be ending this conversation to prevent any miscommunication or possible embarrassment? What is the social protocol here? Oh- well, I guess you can’t tell me that right now-

You: Ssssshhhh

Lucifer: Oh! Of course. Yes, shushing. Shushing now.

You: You talk SO MUCH.

Lucifer: Ah, yes, sometimes I do.

You: I love listening to you talk.

Lucifer: You did just shush me, but I’ll try to believe you.

You: Oh fuck, I’m sooo sorry-

Lucifer, laughing: I’m joking, darling, it’s okay.

Lucifer: You okay? Are you still there?

You: Yeah, hold on.

You, muffled: Huh? I’m talking to Luci. I’m trying to tell him how much I want to ride his dick.

Lucifer: Oh my!

You: What do you mean am I sure? I don’t know. Are you sure? Wait-

Call Ended

Text Message Exchanges

Vaggie to Lucifer: Sir, I believe Y/N to be making poor decisions. I have confiscated their phone and will bring them home shortly.

Lucifer: You’re the best!

Vaggie: Update. Y/N has been properly hydrated and brought to their room. They have fallen asleep.

Lucifer: Thanks, Magz. Charlie home okay, too?

Vaggie: Yes, Sir. Getting ready to sleep, as well.

Lucifer: Excellent, you rock! 🔥🔥🔥

The Day After

Text Message Exchanges

Lucifer to You: Good morning, beautiful. I hope you’re feeling well. Would you like me to bring you some breakfast?

You: I’m grounded. I’m not allowed to eat or drink and I’m definitely NOT allowed to text you. I am fucking mortified. Vaggie said I had the audacity to call you? I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.

Lucifer: Oh, stop! I was wildly flattered by what you were saying, but surely you didn’t mean any of it and it was just the alcohol speaking.

You: You’re too kind. I’m a degenerate and I will punish myself accordingly.

Lucifer: Hey, now! All you said was that you wanted to duck me! I’m not even sure what that means. I am so very old, you see. 😜 For all I know, it means you’d like to hold my— hand.

You: I wish I wasn’t already dead.

Lucifer: Beautiful, please stop! I will wipe the night from my memories if that is your wish.

You: PLEASE.

Lucifer: Okay. Can we start over?

You: Yes, please.

Lucifer: I think you’re very pretty.

You: Stop!

Lucifer: And I’d very much like it if you sat on my face.

You: AAAHHHH delete my number, I’m blocking you and setting myself on fire.

Lucifer: Nononononono I’m joking, please don’t!

You: 😭 How am I ever going to be able to look you in the eye ever again? I am MOVING and changing my name.

Lucifer: Okay, okay. I have an idea.

Lucifer: I’m going to get drunk and call you tonight.

You: That … might actually help.

Lucifer: Excellent! I’ve been known to make a huge fool out of myself while intoxicated, so this should cancel out your behavior, and even earn you some credits to say plenty of lewd things to me in the future.

You: 🤦 We’ll see about that.

Later That Night

Incoming Call From Lucifer

You: Wow, you’re really doing it, huh?

Lucifer: I did not think this through.

You: What do you mean?

Lucifer: Well, now I’m drunk, and I’m alone in my room, in the hotel, very close to where your room is, and I’m having a really hard time not just walking over to you.

You: Oh yeah, and what would you do then?

Lucifer: I would ask for permission to kiss you.

You: Damn, even drunk you are polite.

Lucifer: Not polite, just bare minimum decent.

You: I’m wet.

Lucifer: What?

You: I said, I bet.

Lucifer: Hm, well, you see, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to kiss you. Your lips seem so plump and soft. You once struggled to lick something off of them at dinner and I’ve come to that image of you in my mind.

You: Oh shit!

Lucifer: Is that okay?

You: Yes. Fuck yes. Tell me more.

Lucifer: I love the way you smell and desperately want to taste you.

Lucifer: I want to taste your lips and your tongue and your face, your neck.

Lucifer: I want to feel your skin and squeeze your ass. Fuck, I can’t talk about your ass.

You: Yes, slow down. What do you want to taste after my neck?

Lucifer: Your tits. I want to see and inhale and touch and tongue and gently pinch. I want to worship your body. I want to make you come by sucking on your tits.

You shake a little as you let out a breath.

Lucifer: I want to fucking devour your thighs. They are magnificent. I want them around my head, around my waist. I want my hands and tongue all over them, every inch. I want to see your fat jiggle when I slap my cock down on them.

You, whispering: Oh for fuck’s sake …

Lucifer: Darling, I think I’m out of liquor.

You: Wha-

Lucifer: Have I done a good enough job for you tonight, or would you like me to continue? I could go down to the bar and get some more.

You: …

Lucifer: Precious, are you there?

You, clearing your throat: I-I’m here. It’s okay. I have completely different reasons now to feel embarrassed and like I can’t look you in the eye.

Lucifer: Oh no, that was not the intention.

You try to settle your breathing.

Lucifer: I’m outside your door.

You: No. No, go away.

Lucifer: My safe word is Duckling. Use it and I’ll go away.

You: …

Lucifer: Open your door, beautiful. I want you to be comfortable around me.

You: I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming.

Lucifer: You are entirely in control. Say the word, and I will go back to my room, or I’ll go downstairs for another drink. Tell me what you desire and I will make it real.

You twist the handle and pull open the door.

Call Ended

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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icecream4starscream · 26 days ago

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Starscream (The Movie)

Chapter 7: The Call

Notes:

In the skies of WWII Berlin, pilots have reported sightings of a ghostly aircraft, a phantom jet eerily similar to the game-changing Messerschmitt Me 262's being developed in secret by Nazi engineers. While the Luftwaffe fliers see this "Ghost" as an omen of good fortune, one disillusioned German mechanic discovers the mysterious plane hidden in his barn, somehow disappearing and reappearing at random, and quickly realizes that, for this machine, there's more than meets the eye...

Sneak preview:

Skyfire shifted uncomfortably as he and Star waited quietly for the Academy head-bot before them to cease whatever seemed to take more precedent over the two mechs before him, which at the moment seemed to be arranging the materials on his desk. One didn't need to scan Star's electrical impulses to tell he was growing madder by the klik. Skyfire, becoming more and more uncomfortable by the moment, tried to distract himself as his optics wandered about the room, eventually landing on a recent news article on the desk which read: "FIRE REDUCES JIHAXIAN ACADEMY TO CLINKER WASTE! Faulty propex-conduit identified as cause of devastation, Senator Shockwave struggles to safely relocate J.A.A.T. students." At long last, the head-bot looked up sternly at the shuttle and seeker before him. He frowned, as if disgruntled by their presence. "I'm sure you both know why I called you here." Skyfire cleared his intake. "Yes, si-" "No." Skyfire glanced over to Star, who glared back at the head-bot defiantly. "I really don't know why either of us are here." The head-bot scowled, inhaling deeply. Skyfire could tell it was taking a great deal of effort for him to maintain his calm, authoritative demeanor. "Given your records, we found it necessary to arrange special observation procedures in the upcoming exams." "Is there a problem with said records?" Skyfire felt his tank tighten as he heard the aggression in Star's tone rise. The head-bot's digits clacked against the surface of the desk. "You two have been prone to receiving accusations of misdemeanors-" "Of which, a single one has yet to be verified." growled the seeker. "Innocent misunderstandings, to be sure." Skyfire waved his servo quickly, trying to maintain the peace, "Mistakes happen to the best of us." "Indeed." scowled the head-bot, clasping his servos together, "Which is why we're taking measures to ensure there will be no mistakes in calculating your credits."

Skyfire's faceplate dropped. "Has there been some compromise in the system?" he asked in genuine concern. "No," The head-bot shook his helm, "Nothing we can confirm anyway." "Have our marks been unsatisfactory?" pressed Star. "Your marks have both been quite exemplary." "Then what exactly-?" "Too exemplary." Skyfire and Star balked at the thinly veiled accusation. "Any school worth its sulfur can pride itself on maintaining the highest standards, only if it can enforce academic integrity with equal measure. Since you two managed to produce some of the highest marks in this academy's history, and given your...backgrounds, it's only prudent the board follows through, ensuring they accurately reflect your scholarly capacity." "We're observed every test-!" The head-bot cut Star off. "Therefore, you two will be monitored very, VERY closely in the upcoming exams. We've given you the courtesy of advance notice only to affirm your assurance that neither of you will disturb or disrupt our regular attendees with any ill-thought-out displays of impudence. You both should carefully consider how your conduct reflects on this school. Is that clear?" Skyfire's spark flickered apprehensively as he heard the seeker's wings click in anger. If they stayed much longer, he knew Star was going to burst.

Context-free spoilers:

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kinglazrus · 6 months ago

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Truce 2024

@charcoalhawk Happy Truce! Technically, I have not finished editing, but I didn't want to make you wait too much longer, so enjoy the first third of the fic! I will update this post with the full fic and an AO3 link when I finish editing tomorrow.

Prompt: Danny finds out that ghosts can have (non-blood blossom) food allergies

AO3 link to be added

—

Danny winces when the flash goes off, and rubs his eye as Sam’s camera spits out the photo. It will take a few minutes for the instant film to develop. Thirty seconds before they can make out basic shapes. A minute after that for the colours to settle in, and then one more until it’s at full contrast. But Sam plucks the photo from the ejection slot, raises her eyebrows at the still-white square, and tuts.

“You ruined it,” she says.

“Did not!”

“Yeah, I can feel it.”

Danny leans forward to snatch the photo out of her hands, but Sam scuttles backward across her carpet to escape. He could give chase, but it’s not really worth the effort, especially when Sam ends up in the far corner by her tipped over box of scrapbook supplies. Too much ammunition at her disposal.

Danny twists around to face Sam’s bed, where Tucker sprawls with one hand on a comic book and the other digging through a bowl of popcorn. “Come on, Tuck. Back me up.”

Tucker’s stare skips from Danny to Sam before sliding back to his comic, and he says, “I bet you blinked.”

Traitor.

Danny’s wounded noise is punctuated by Sam’s sharp laugh, and she keeps snickering under her breath as she grabs a marker. It takes less than thirty seconds for Sam to mark the photo with the date, select a handful—literally, she sticks them to her palm first—of ghost-themed stickers with complementary shapes and colours, and add the photo to the next empty page in her scrapbook with the stickers as a border. She even finds that empty page in a single flip. Danny has seen Sam’s mother attack a floral arrangement with the same precision, but wisely decides not to mention it.

Sam then scoops all the supplies back into the box with a single sweep of her arm and zero organization. (This, too, is like her mother, who has a drawer of trimmers and flower food and floral wire all in a jumble that Danny glimpsed once two years ago, and he’s still not certain it was real.)

“It’s fine,” Sam says as she shoves the box under her bed. “It’s as good as we’re going to get.”

“That’s not actually reassuring.”

“Here, look.” She shuffles back across the room, holding the scrapbook out to Danny and Tucker.

The colours haven’t finished developing, but the image is clear. Sam’s room with its purples and blacks and the occasional splash of red. Her curtains in the background, with deep shadows in the folds where the light can’t touch. The candles on her bedside table in the foreground, with their perfect little flames, or as perfect as a Polaroid camera can capture.

And Danny, sat cross-legged in the middle of her carpet, the air around him fuzzy and dotted with static, eyes wide, one pupil stretched and pinched in the middle, the iris around it a bit too green for his human form.

“Huh,” Tucker says. He’s holding the scrapbook now, though Danny didn’t notice him taking it, or even realize he was off the bed until that moment. “Should we be worried about that?”

Tucker turns to the previous page. This photo is dated a week prior, taken at Tucker’s house. Danny slouches on a beanbag chair, attention fixed on the monitor across from him. His pupil is normal, but the static remains. It’s in the photo before this one, too, and the one before that, and the one before that, all of them taken about a week apart. It takes a good ten photos for Danny to realize the field of static is growing smaller as they go back.

“So, I noticed something weird,” Sam says.

Danny glares at her. “Wow, really?”

“Just, look. Remember that extra credit project you did for biology?” Sam swats Danny’s hand away and turns the scrapbook to the very first page, revealing a picture of him and Tucker cuddling at the zoo. “It was only a few weeks after the accident. I didn’t even see it at the time, but a few days later I was going through my photos and spotted this.”

Sam taps Danny’s figure. It takes a few seconds of squinting before he sees it—a faint speckling around his body, little flecks that could be mistaken for damage if the photo weren’t only a few months old. The photo next to it is dated almost a month later, and the speckling is much more pronounced.

“I’ve taken a picture of you every week for the past few months to keep track, since I noticed it was growing stronger. I didn’t really think anything else would happen until your eye changed last month. And the pupils are new.”

“Oh, well, thank goodness for that. At least there’s something new,” Danny says.

“And you didn’t blink,” Tucker offers.

“This is bad, right? It seems bad.”

“We already knew you don’t photograph well.”

“I think digital files of me getting corrupted is a bit different than this, Tucker!” Danny flaps his hands at the scrapbook. This is great. Perfect! Just what he needs! A stock of evidence that could expose him if anyone found it. Not that Danny doesn’t trust Sam to keep the scrapbook safe—she did retrieve it from a box under her bed in the first place. But Sam isn’t the only person in the world who owns an instant camera.

It was fine when, a few days after the accident, they discovered Danny couldn’t be photographed by typical means anymore. No matter how many times Tucker tried it on a dozen different devices, the image was always corrupted, becoming a wash of static. But Sam’s Polaroid still worked, and so did the digital camera his parents made. He nearly panicked the first time his dad took a family photo after the accident, but apparently the Fenton camera’s ability to “capture a ghost in its truest form” means Danny looks normal in either form. No corruptions, no distortion. Just Fenton or Phantom.

How long will it be until that camera doesn’t work, either?

Danny wraps his arms around his head and groans.

“It might not be as bad as you think,” Sam says. “Before the eyes, I thought it was just your ghostly aura. But your powers are a lot stronger than they were a few months ago, and I think some of that is bleeding through in the pictures.”

“You think that sounds good? I don’t want to be more of a ghost.”

“Do you feel like more of a ghost?”

Would he even notice? He opens his mouth snap back, but Sam’s questioning look stops him.

“You don’t look any different,” Tucker says. “No fangs or pointy ears.”

“I don’t have those as a ghost.”

“You don’t have them as a ghost yet.”

Sam snaps the scrapbook shut. “Tucker, that’s not helping. But I have a theory. In more traditional ghost hunting, people use photography to capture what they can’t see with their naked eye. I don’t think you’re becoming more of a ghost, but as you get stronger, your ghostly aspects show up more on film. Your digital camera still works, right?”

Danny nods. They use it often enough that he would have noticed something by now.

“Then this”—Sam pokes Danny in the chest—“is still your ‘true’ form. But if you’re worried, we can always keep an eye out for pointy ears or fangs.”

Danny wants to pick through the scrapbook again, check every photo for something Sam might have missed. But she holds it tight in her lap and keeps looking at Danny like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. He’s so focused on the scrapbook that he doesn’t notice Tucker leaning in and making a peace sign until a shutter goes off.

Tucker lowers his phone and turns it around, his smile falling when he sees static. Squinting, Danny can only just make out what might be Tucker’s peace sign, and two brighter spots that are probably his own eyes.

“Aw, man,” Tucker says.

“Dude, what else did you expect?”

“I thought it might be different now since Sam’s pictures are. I still don’t get why that works but my stuff doesn’t.”

“Isn’t it some superstition that analogue technology works better around ghosts?” Danny asks.

“Your parents don’t use analogue!”

“My parents specifically design their gear to function around ghosts.”

“So unfair.”

Sam shrugs. “Those superstitions have to come from somewhere. Ghosts have probably been around as long as humans have. There has to be some truth to all those old stories. Like the blood blossoms.”

Sam isn’t looking at Danny when she says it. She’s turned away, returning her scrapbook to its place under her bed, so she misses the way Danny freezes for a second.

But Tucker doesn’t. “You okay?”

Danny forces himself to move, leaning back against Sam’s bed and folding his arms behind his head. “Yeah.”

It’s impressive how Tucker manages to say, “Dude, are you stupid? I know you better than that,” with nothing more than raised eyebrows. It’s also a bit rude.

Danny sticks his tongue out in return, but Tucker’s eyebrows don’t get any lower, and he has to look away or else he might crack. It’s stupid, getting worked up at just the mention of blood blossoms. It’s a flower. A couple petals on a stalk. Thinking of them shouldn’t make his skin hot and his chest tight and his tongue prickle.

He grips his knees and takes a deep breath, Tucker’s stare boring into him all the while. After a few seconds, Tucker says, “Okay,” and presses his leg against Danny’s. The warmth grounds him, and by the time Sam comes up from under her bed, his breathing has evened out.

“Think a salt line could stop him?” Tucker asks. He reaches up to the bed and grabs his popcorn. “Ooooooh, the great ghost boy, stopped by salty deliciousness.

“you said salt line, not salt...whatever this would be. Besides, popcorn would never betray me like that, no matter what Jazz thinks.” To prove his point, Danny grabs a handful and shoves it in his mouth. Buttery, salty, delicious popcorn. “I love you,” he says to it.

Tucker snickers. “Is Jazz still making your parents do that healthy diet thing?”

“Oh my God, yes, I hate it.” He sits up and puts on his best Jazz impression. “‘You need to take care of your body to care for your mind.’ It’s nice that she knows my secret, but I don’t think she realizes she doesn’t need to find ways to be useful. Just having her helps.”

“Maybe say that to her?” Sam says. “She probably feels bad that she didn’t mesh with the team. I get it. We’d be pretty upset if we couldn’t help you, right, Tuck?”

“Hm?” Tucker, as focused on the popcorn as Danny is, blinks. “Oh, yeah.”

“Okay, sure, but Sam. Please. She doesn’t let them buy chips. I haven’t eaten popcorn with salt and butter in a month.” Oh, how Danny has missed it.

“I bet there’s fudge,” Sam says.”

“Yeah, try and get my mom to stop making fudge. Or my dad to stop eating it. Jazz knows when to pick her battles.”

“And her enemy is popcorn.”

Danny nods solemnly. “It’s popcorn.”

#phandomholidaytruce #Danny Phantom #phicc #phandom truce 2024

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erik-even-wordier · 4 months ago

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Here’s some absolute bulls**t DOGE f**kery which isn’t getting much play, if any, from news media. But it certainly should

Posted to Facebook by Len Nelson on February 26, 2025.

Here’s some absolute bulls**t DOGE f**kery which isn’t getting much play, if any, from news media. But it certainly should.

I’ll preface it by reminding you that DOGE stands for “Department of Government Efficiency.” Keep that last word, “efficiency,” in mind.

On Monday, federal employees who hold a government credit card, a normal and mundane tool of their jobs so they can purchase office supplies, gas for government vehicles, travel expenses or whatever else might be an essential part of doing their work, discovered that the available credit limits for the cards assigned to them were suddenly set at $1. Yes, ONE DOLLAR.

A very close acquaintance of mine is one of them. She has two government issued credit cards, one which she is authorized to use for day to day job-related purchases and the other for when she is required to travel for work. She is also authorized to use a third card, a “fleet card” for when she has to fill up her agency’s work trucks or other equipment. But, of course, you can’t pay for staples, ball point pens or gasoline when anything costing more than a dollar would result in the card being declined, all thanks to convicted felon, adjudicated fraudster and rapist Donald Trump and his unelected and unaccountable billionaire oligarch co-president and top campaign donor, Elon Musk.

I will note here that she and every other federal employee who is authorized to use the cards has to go through specific training on proper uses and procedures for them. It’s literally mandated as a condition of employment. The expenses for which they use the cards is documented, monitored and reviewed by supervisors and agency accountants who understand the nature of their work and the items they are required to purchase in order to do it. Elon Musk doesn’t have any experience or knowledge in such matters, even as he pretends it.

When I asked her just how these yahoos with DOGE expect government workers to function according to their job descriptions under the new restrictions, she said the “new guidance” from her agency, via DOGE directive, is that they can still use the cards for purchases…but only with specific prior approval. So now, every purchase in excess of one dollar (which is literally all of them), even filling up the work truck, must get approved by a district supervisor. Not approval to, say, go ahead and fill up several times this week as needed, but every single time they do so. Apparently the credit limit will then be increased to cover that one purchase and then will reset to one dollar. DOGE has also apparently created some sort of magic list somewhere which contains the names of supervisors who can approve the purchases. They, and only they, can give the okay.

Now, in my close acquaintance’s case, the district supervisor under which she works is the boss for an area which covers a pretty large swath of central, western and southwestern Wisconsin. As the insanely stupid DOGE directive went into effect, she was traveling to one of the district’s field offices for meetings when she got the directive. She had to scramble to figure out how to even get back home because the DOGE “experts” mistakenly left her off the magic list. So, she was literally stranded unless she wanted to use her own money for work expenses and then pray that somehow she would be reimbursed, not an easy task because government expense reimbursement procedures are cumbersome. That’s why workers have the credit cards in the first place.

Now, this district director has to specifically approve every individual use of the agency’s employee credit cards for every one of the dozens upon dozens of employees working in that district. Because, sure, a district director really needs to be on the phone or laptop several times each hour just responding to and arranging employee requests to buy gas for the work truck, bar oil for the chainsaw or even a package of butt wipe or disinfectant spray for the office bathrooms.

The abject idiocy of it is off the charts. I heard about it from someone close to me but I also read an account of it from a health care worker at the Veterans Administration. She complained that she went to buy supplies for the clinic at which she works, things like bandages, tape and other medical supplies, only to find her government card had suddenly and without notice been reduced to an available credit limit of one singular United States of WTF dollar.

Sorry, honorably discharged military veteran seeking care from the VA. Can you just hold back the bleeding with your hand while we wait and wait and wait to get approval from someone up the chain of command who might be on the magic DOGE list in order to replenish our bandage supply? Thanks, soldier. Then tack on a thousand or so indiscriminate firings of VA workers, including veterans employed in public service to other veterans. But sure, Republicans who support Trump and Musk, tell us more about how much you love and support our vets, right?

So, in the name of “government efficiency,” Musk and DOGE have instead injected absolute chaos into even the simplest of government operations and are forcing our dedicated civil service workers to have to perform their jobs in the most inefficient way that one could design or even imagine. But Trump says Musk is a “genius” when it comes to making government work better.

This isn’t “genius.” It sure as hell isn’t “efficiency.” It’s clearly purposed incompetence by design.

Well, I need no prior approval from anyone in order to say, “F**k these corrupt and malevolent dips**ts.”

#shared from facebook #doge #popular post

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notgonnaedit · 6 months ago

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Healer's Love

A Different Approach

Summary: Six months after Eriadu, the remainder of the squad struggles to be whole as they fight for their right to be a family.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Teen!OFC (clones being good brothers/dads)

Chapter summary: Omega, Crosshair, and Batcher make their way home.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, feels, crying (If I miss a tag LMK)

Masterlist

Tags: @hugmekenobi @nottwonerdy777

@dreamsight73 @delicioustacocollector

@covert1ntrovert @clonethirstingisreal

Omega huffed as she stared at the crashed ship in front of her. "This will take forever to repair."

The top had been ripped off during their crash landing, and the engine was smoking. Batcher whined and jumped out, pacing the bare ground.

"No. There's no time for that," Crosshair said.

Omega turned to look at him. "We need to get the nav reader online to extract the coordinates to Tantiss for when we go back."

The sniper left the ship, backpack over his shoulders. "We're not going back."

Omega stood. "We left the other prisoners behind."

"And the Empire is going to be searching for this ship and us. We have to move. I scanned a spaceport a few clicks east. We'll start there."

Omega sighed. Her breath frosted in the air. It was cold on this planet. She jumped out and followed Crosshair, Batcher with them.

•°•°•°•°•

Omega held Batcher to her side as she and Crosshair hid behind a pillar from a few stormtroopers.

"Empire couldn't have followed us here that quickly," she whispered.

"They didn't," Crosshair told her. "That's a standard patrol presence."

The girl furrowed her brow. "Okay. So, let's find a way to send a message to Hunter, Wrecker, and Althea."

Crosshair looked at her. "We can't. They monitor long-range comms. It'll give us away. We'll have to figure out something else."

He took a step forward into the open, but Omega grabbed him. "Wait. We can't walk around like this." She gestured to their prison garb. "We'll draw too much attention."

"You're the one who wanted to bring the hound." Crosshair pointed out.

Batcher whined a nuzzled Omega. The blonde scoffed and scratched the beast's neck. "Don't listen to him. Come on."

Omega ran down the street, Crosshair following soon after. The girl snagged some clothes off a laundry line that were warm and would disguise them. Then, they went to the space port.

Crosshair wanted to storm the place, but Omega had a different idea.

"Hello." She approached the clerk. "We'd like two tickets on the next shuttle, please."

"Chain codes?" He asked.

"About that. We lost our chain codes," the girl lied.

"No chain codes, no passage."

Omega hummed. "Right. But you see, a problem for us could be an opportunity for you if, say, you knew of an alternate way–" she rubbed her fingers together. "–of booking passage without a chain code?"

The clerk leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Are you insinuating that I should take a bribe?"

"If that's what you want to call it." Omega smirked.

"I do. And that could be arranged... for 15,000 credits."

The girl blew out a breath. "For two tickets??"

"Per ticket. And it's nonnegotiable. You're lucky I'm not charging extra for the creature."

"Where do you expect us to get 30,000 credits?" Omega asked.

The clerk folded his arms. "Sounds like a you problem. Don't come back without the credits."

Omega sighed and turned around, walking back to Crosshair.

"Well, that went well," he said.

"Stow it."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Crosshair didn't know how Omega planned on getting 30,000 credits, but he sure wasn't expecting her to gamble for them. He definitely wasn't expecting her to actually get the money too.

But then an Imperial walked in. An officer. Crosshair coughed to signal Omega. The girl made no sign of acknowledgement.

She looked to the Trandoshan she was playing with, who was begging for another game.

"I think I'll quit while I'm ahead," she said, gathering her funds.

But the Imperial walked over to her. "Leaving so soon?" He jerked his head at the Trandoshan. "You're in my seat."

He groaned and left. Omega eyed the new man warily.

"So, you think you're good at this game?" He asked. "Want to try against a, uh, real opponent? I insist."

Omega, realizing she didn't have a choice, conceded.

Batcher growled at the man, rightfully so.

"Your mutt don't seem to like me," he said as they played.

Omega didn't look up from her cards. "She's harmless."

"She's a distraction. Get rid of her."

Omega knew there was no negotiating with this guy. She nodded to Crosshair, who clicked his tongue to get the dog to come.

"Never seen you or your dad around before," the Imp mused.

"We're just passing through," the girl told him.

He laid down a card, and the crowd became more attentive.

"Looks like the captain is heading towards a victory," the bartender droid noted.

"Eh, I'll admit, you're not bad. But you seem to have misunderstood your enemy." The captain smirked.

"Did I?" Omega laid down three colorful cards. It was her turn to smirk.

"The three Eastern Stars," the droid announced. "That is game over."

"I'll take those 20,000 credits," Omega said.

A stormtrooper walked over, but the captain waved him off. "I concede. You beat me fair and square. Nicely played."

Omega smiled as he walked away. "Thanks." She scooped her winnings into her bag and walked over to Crosshair. They were home free.

Or so they thought. "Now, hang on a minute," the Imperial said, stopping them. "We're not done here. You haven't paid your fine."

Omega furrowed her brow. "What fine?"

"Gambling's illegal in these parts."

"What?" Crosshair snarled.

"The law is the law," said the captain. "Now, all you gotta do is pay the fine. And I'll be on my way."

"How much?" Omega asked.

"Ten thousand credits. Unless you prefer to be arrested instead."

Omega conceded, shoving the required money into his hand.

"Excellent. Consider your fine paid in full. Try and stay out of trouble."

Omega sighed as he walked away. "Let's get out of here."

Crosshair stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "How many credits do we have left?"

She checked her bag. "Thirty-five thousand. Enough for two tickets on the shuttle and a little extra."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

They never did end up using those credits. The slimy Imperial had taken Batcher, and Omega refused to leave without her. In the end, they did Crosshair's plan and blasted their way out, stealing a ship in the process.

Omega piloted through hyperspace, Batcher sitting at her feet.

"The Empire will be able to track this vessel," Crosshair told her. "We need to ditch it."

The girl nodded. "We will. I'm heading to a remote location, and I sent a coded transmission for Hunter, Thea, and Wrecker to meet us there."

Batcher whined at her feet. A sinking feeling settled in Crosshair's stomach. "Omega," he said slowly. "It's... It's been months. You don't know if they're still aliv–"

"They'll be there." The determination in her eyes... She was so sure.

Omega dropped the ship from hyperspace, flying to a grey moon. On the surface was something she wasn't sure she would ever see again.

The Havoc Marauder.

She landed the ship and went out to the ramp. Then she saw them.

Wrecker and Althea stood in the door. The older teen's hair was shorter, but her eyes were the same.

"Now, there's a sight!" Wrecker shouted.

Omega couldn't hold back her tears. "Wrecker! Thea!"

They ran for each other, finally embracing. Wrecker scooped up both girls in the tight hug spinning them around. When he set them down, Althea held Omeha close.

"I wasn't even sure your message was real," she murmured. She chuckled tearfully, tugging at Omega's curls tied back. "You changed your hair."

Omega laughed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "So did you!"

Wrecker knelt down, pulling them all together.

"I knew you'd show up," Omega sniffed.

Wrecker pulled away, wiping his eyes. "We crossed the galaxy four times looking for you."

"Five."

Omega looked behind her brother to see another standing in the ship. "But you're the one who found us."

Omega took a step forward, then another, and before she knew it she was running into Hunter's arms.

The tracker ran down the steps, skipping some to get to her faster. She collapsed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Hunter held her close, cradling her head against him. "We missed you, kid. We never stopped searching." He had to tell her. She had to know they never gave up on her. That their fruitless attempts were not for lack of effort.

Omega sobbed into his neck, her breaths shuddering when she finally pulled away. Hunter brushed her hair – which was now as long as his – out of her eyes. Her face was dirty, the only clean parts being the streaks from tears.

Hunter rested his hands on her shoulders. As happy as he was to see her, a nagging question rose.

"But how did you escape?"

Omega chuckled. "I had help."

Then, Hunter saw him. From the ship Omega arrived in stood a familiar figure. Hunter rose to his feet, his instincts screaming to get the girls behind him.

Crosshair had come too.

<- Previous

Next ->

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #oc #fanfiction #healer's family series

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soshiharin · 1 year ago

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better than this

summary: in which harin has her first solo concert

set: 23 feb 2024

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mention of food

an: words in bold are english. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

harin’s masterlist

“Thank you for coming, my darlings,” Harin spoke into the microphone as the band continued playing the instrumental of Underwater. “Bye,” she sang, waving goodbye as the hydraulic stage lift went down.

When she reached the bottom, she hopped off the lift, taking out her in-ears. She could still hear the crowd cheering as she was guided backstage by a staff member. Upon reaching her dressing room, her team started chanting her name over and over.

“Oh, stop, no,” she pleaded, covering her face in embarrassment. “Please, no. My ears are ringing.”

“Congratulations, noona,” her manager, Iseul, said, passing her a bottle of water. “I’ve been monitoring reactions, and everyone only has positive things to say. They said it was really warm even though the temperature was in the negatives.”

“Oh, really? That’s a relief.” She nodded, taking a sip of her water. “It’s a bit cold today. I told them to dress warmly,” she said, referring to her fans, “but some of them prioritise their outfits over their safety.”

“It’s because they know your outfits are always stunning,” her hairstylist, Anna, told her. “Especially when you style them.”

She nodded, accepting the container of fruit that was handed to her. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that. I’m just a fashionista,” she jokingly complained with a sigh as she opened the container. “But–” she popped a grape into her mouth– “I have to go to the waiting room and go meet people now.” She groaned, shaking her head. “I’m so tired.”

“The dancers are saying they want to go out and drink,” Yujun, her stage manager, said. “Everybody’s thinking of going to a BBQ restaurant.”

Harin stared at him blankly. “Energy… How do you guys still have energy?” She asked, everyone laughing at her reaction. “Aren’t you tired?”

“We’re not that tired. We just want to celebrate the first concert.”

“You guys are so strong, I’ll see how I feel about that after seeing everybody,” she said, “but if I don’t go, then I’ll give you my credit card.”

Everybody cheered at Harin’s offer, causing her to roll her eyes as she left the room. As she walked to the waiting room, she greeted and thanked the staff members that she passed on her way. Walking into the room, she saw her members chatting on the couch.

“Oh, hello,” Harin greeted, pretending to be shocked to see them, putting her container on a nearby table.

Seohyun stood up and started running to her older member. She hugged her tightly, picking her up, and spinning her around. “Unnie!” She cheered, not noticing how Tiffany was recording their interaction. “You’re so pretty,” she complimented after she put Harin down.

“Thank you.” Harin brushed her fingers through her hair.

Yuri snapped her fingers in Harin’s direction. “Why are your outfits so nice? Let me shop in your closet.”

Harin laughed, shocked by Yuri’s request. “No!”

Tiffany nodded, having stopped recording. “You should just arrange a day for us to pick out what we like.”

“When unnie’s on tour, someone will need to watch your closet,” Yoona added, “so, I can keep an eye on it for you. I… will bravely volunteer to take on that burden for you.” She raised her hand as if she were being sworn in, suddenly speaking formally.

“Can you shut up?” Harin politely requested. “You’re not getting a shopping spree in my closet.”

“But, unnie, where did you get the clothes for this concert?” Seohyun asked, playing with Harin’s jacket.

“Uh, I designed the first two dresses, and the others are from different brands,” Harin said. She was known to occasionally design her outfits for music videos and award shows.

“You should design me a new closet, unnie,” Seohyun pleaded, holding Harin’s hand.

“Leave me alone,” Harin groaned. “Just buy nice clothes.”

“Then you have to come with us when we go shopping,” Yuri told her, talking with her hands and causing the paper bag on her wrist to shake.

“Or,” Tiffany began, “just start a fashion brand so we can buy that.”

Harin stared at her members silently. “You guys want me to always be working, jinja.”

“Oh! Unnie’s annoyed,” Yoona teased, pointing at her member. “She’s saying ‘jinja’ now.”

Yuri handed Harin the bag in her hand. “I brought you wine.”

Harin gulped, trying to swallow the wave of nausea that overcame her. “These days, just thinking about alcohol makes me want to throw up.”

“Oh, really? Well, I can take it off your hands seeing as it was so expensive,” Yuri joked, pretending to take the bag. “Just invite me to your house so we can drink it together.”

“Okay,” Harin agreed easily.

“I also brought you something!” Seohyun exclaimed excitedly, rushing to the couch to fetch a white paper bag. “These are so tasty.”

Harin accepted the bag, sighing when she saw what was inside. “I need to stop getting my hopes up when you give me things.”

“Why? What is it?” Tiffany asked, trying to peek inside the bag.

Harin pulled out a packet of dried mango with a straight face. “This… Thank you, Seohyun-ah.”

“You can snack on these after your shows,” the youngest said, tapping the packet. “I bought them according to your tastes.”

“I was expecting junk food.”

Yoona scoffed, crossing her arms. “Why would you expect that from Seohyun?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Harin said matter-of-factly. “I’m an idiot that forgot Seohyun only eats fruit.”

“But it’s just one packet, so it’s fine,” Yuri commented.

“Yah, this packet is the smallest one here,” Harin told her member. “This packet that’s as big as my chest is the smallest one here.”

“Ah… Seohyun-ah, there’s nothing much I can say.” Yuri shrugged.

“I came empty handed,” Tiffany said with a pout. “I’m sorry. I was going to get flowers, but if I did, I’d run late.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just you being here is fine,” Harin comforted her.

Seohyun began to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Let’s take photos!” She cheered.

The members then took photos with Harin for the next five minutes, joking in between. A couple of them were chosen to be posted on the members’ social media, only the ones that everyone liked.

“Yoona, your man is here,” Harin told her member as she was gathering her stuff to leave.

“My man? Who?” Yoona asked, putting her jacket back on.

“Timothée-ssi.”

All the members watched as Yoona gasped, basically falling over. “He’s here?”

“The cast of Dune is here, I was told.”

Yoona suddenly got very close to Harin, holding her hands in hers. “Unnie, I’ll never ever again in my life ask you for something, if you can do me one favour. Please get me an autograph, please. I’m begging you.”

“You’re not even on your knees,” Yuri teased.

“Unnie, please.”

“Okay. Now go home,” Harin said.

“I’m trusting you, unnie,” Yoona said as Seohyun began to drag her out.

“Bye, Harin-ah!” Tiffany shouted, ignoring Yoona’s pleads.

Harin waved as they all disappeared behind a corner. “Bye, my loves.”

As she returned her attention to her bowl of fruit, she could still hear the hustle and bustle from the stadium. A lot of staff members were buzzing about, clearing up all equipment so that they could leave.

“Wah, Rinha!”

She heard Jaesuk exclaim from behind her. Turning around, she saw the MC, along with Dongwook, Sangbeom, and Seho.

“Yes,” she simply said.

Sangbeom gave her a hug. “For someone so lazy, you have a lot of stamina.”

“I’m an idol. Didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t,” he teased.

Dongwook hung to the back of the small group, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It’s so cold,” he groaned.

“You just like to complain,” Jaesuk scolded his member.

Harin nodded along, eating a small piece of pineapple. “That’s true.”

Dongwook chuckled. “You too?”

“Why not?” She shrugged.

They all laughed, Seho’s laughter being stiffer than the others, which Jaesuk noted.

“Why are you so tense?” He asked, pointing at his friend.

“No, no,” Seho denied, “I’m not.”

“Your fist is red from how hard you’re squeezing it,” Dongwook commented, reaching over to steal some fruit from his wife. “Be mindful of your circulation.”

“My circulation is fine, though,” Seho said, flexing his hand and showing it to everyone. His hand was still red, but was slowly going back to its natural colour. “See?”

“Why are we all staring at hyung’s hand?” Sangbeom asked.

“I don’t know either,” Harin said. She clicked her fingers at Dongwook and he passed her the water bottle that he was holding. She took a few gulps as the men continued to talk about Seho’s hands. “Are you still here because you want a photo?” There was no malice behind her question and she knew that they knew, the light chuckles told her everything.

“My daughter said I absolutely needed to take a photo with you,” Jaesuk told her.

“Hyung, why didn’t you bring Naeun with you?” Dongwook asked. “The concert doesn’t even end that late, it’s only–” he checked the time on his phone– “nine o’clock.”

“I was going to bring her with me, I had the tickets already, but she suddenly got sick at the beginning of this week,” he told them. “She was so upset when she realised she wouldn’t be feeling well enough to come.”

“There’s still the next one. At the end of the tour,” Harin mentioned.

“I got tickets for that one!”

“Am I the only one that had a stressful experience getting tickets?” Seho asked, causing Dongwook to laugh. “The tickets flew away so quickly.”

“He texted me, ‘Hyung, has it always been this hard to get tickets?’ and I just replied, ‘How would I know?’” Dongwook said. “It’s not like I regularly go to concerts.”

“You’re a homebody,” Sangbeom commented.

“The two are perfect for each other.” Jaesuk pointed at Harin and Dongwook. “They both like being at home.”

Harin nodded. “So, we’re not taking any photos?”

Jaesuk chuckled, “She’s not interested in this conversation.”

“Hyung, you two are the only ones interested in this conversation.” Sangbeom pointed at him and Seho.

The group took photos with Harin, Seho stiffly took his. Jaesuk clapped his hands.

“Okay, it’s time for me to tell Naeun everything that happened in detail. I should get going now,” he said. “Your performance was amazing. Right, Hose?”

“It showed why she’s the top performer, hyung,” he quickly answered, nodding enthusiastically. “Really. She’s the top class, there’s no one as–”

“This is uncomfortable even for me,” Sangbeom said. “Let’s just say goodnight.”

Dongwook sat down on one of the couches as his friends said their goodbyes, Seho’s being the quickest out of the bunch. They all left soon after, saying another round of goodbyes.

Harin turned her attention to her husband, who was running his hands through his hair.

“You coming home later?” He asked, voice so quiet she could barely hear him.

She nodded. “Everyone wants to go get BBQ,” she told him, “so I think I’ll go with them for a bit and then go home.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later then.” He stood up, squeezing her hand as he left. To others, his behaviour might have seemed cold, but she knew he was acting professional, as they both agreed.

More guests popped in to say hi to Harin after that — some close friends, some acquaintances she’s never really spoken to. Many of them brought gifts with them — most of them brought food, and Harin tried her best to swallow past the lump in her throat that threatened to come out. She accepted each and every one, making sure to thank them for coming.

She was just about ready to leave with the staff when she was informed that she had one more group of guests. Four people timidly walked around the corner – two men and two women.

“Hi,” Harin greeted, getting up from the couch as she smiled politely.

“Hi,” the shortest of the four responded, her voice raspy. “Your concert was amazing!”

“Z kept singing along as if she knew the lyrics,” a scrawny man with dark brown hair told her, pointing at the woman standing next to him.

She watched the brunette woman laugh. “I knew the vibes, I knew the aura, okay?”

“She was adding songs to her playlist during the concert,” the man said.

Harin chuckled, glancing over the group of people. By the power of deductive reasoning, she had already managed to identify them. “Well, thank you.”

“I heard that some of the songs you performed haven’t been released yet. So, I just wanna find out when they will be,” the brunette, Zendaya, inquired.

Harin chuckled. “Um, I don’t know. I’m only performing them to see if I like them enough to release them, so… just cross your fingers.

“Okay, but the song about knowing each other’s love languages, that one’s definitely…?”

“We’ll see.” She shrugged.

“Okay, okay. I respect it!” Zendaya laughed. “I’ll just be patient.”

The man who had been yet to speak, Austin, nodded. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Do you know what I just realised?” The short woman, Florence, asked. “The three of us–” she pointed at herself, Zendaya, and Harin– “were in the MCU. I don’t know anything about our future’s in the franchise, but… fun observation.”

“Lovely.” Harin nodded. “Um, are you– Do you want a photo, or?”

“Oh, of course,” the scrawny man, Timothée, said. “Photo or it didn’t happen, right?”

Austin pulled out his phone and placed it on a table, putting on the selfie timer. Everyone put their arms around each other and smiled as the photo was taken. After their photo was taken, Harin handed Timothée a piece of paper and a pen, asking him to give an autograph for Yoona. When he was done, the Dune cast walked out, saying goodbye and congratulating Harin once more.

Harin sighed as she walked back to her changing room. She changed out of her concert outfit and into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Are we all ready to go?” She asked Iseul when she emerged from her changing room.

He nodded, handing her a bottle of water. “Yes. They’re already at the restaurant.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Harin spent forty minutes with everyone, celebrating the first day of the tour. She made sure to pay for everything they had ordered — and everything they would possibly order after she had left. She took a taxi home and just about melted into her bed when she got under the covers.

“Congrats on your concert,” Dongwook sleepily mumbled.

Harin chuckled lightly. “Thank you.”

tagging: @lyskooluv [send an ask or dm to be added or removed from the taglist]

©️ jang harin

#ficnetfairy #snsd 9th member #snsd ninth member #snsd oc #snsd addition #snsd added member #snsd extra member #snsd member au #snsd imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop au #kpop imagines #harin :: scenarios

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auspex · 1 year ago

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VtM Fangfest 2024 Prompt 2: The Magician

Hello! Here is my second fic for Fangfest 2024 :)

All my fics will be about characters that are previously established, so you might not have context for everything mentioned or hinted at within :( Feel free to reach out to ask I love explaining!

I've never really posted my writing before so be kind!

my previous fic is here

This fic is about a Tremere from Mark's game named Gaius. This time I'll let the fic speak for itself.

Gaius forced his smile to come out as a scowl. Julius was getting a new childe? His arrogance never surprised him. Did he really think a fledgling would help him now? Whichever poor fool he selected would only be another weak point to exploit.

The ghoul, whatever his name was, cringed at Gaius’s expression, but to his credit continued his message without hesitation. “As both primogen and regent of Detroit, in which this new fledgling is to be embraced, this is your official notice. As Julius’s statio-”

Gaius cut him off. “Yes, yes, my permission is unneeded and not sought, he supersedes me, if I have concerns bring them up next I report, I know, I know.” He waved his hand, shooing the ghoul out. “I saw the email come through with the details as you were speaking. You are no longer needed. Begone.”

“Yes, Regent.” Giving a salute, the ghoul was off, back to Elysium.

Leaning back in his desk chair, Gaius scrolled through the email. The soon-to-be-fledgling was named Mark. This was one of the ones that Gaius already had been monitoring, as he knew Julius was considering him for the embrace, but he was still surprised. Based on his own intel, this one certainly wouldn’t have been his first choice for a new childe - he was likely chosen to be underestimated. Mark had a basic education - a PhD in Roman History, and was certainly prolific in his field, but no prodigy. He had studied the occult from a historical lens only, and had no strong connections in any mortal institutions. No martial skill to speak of.

Gaius, alone now, truly smiled. There was no need to be concerned with over or under-estimating this one, for he would become his tool, in the end.

The email indicated that Mark was to be temporarily placed under his care, along with some other new fledglings, in 5 nights time, as Julius was busy. Julius had also emailed him directly, ordering him to prepare Mark’s apartment for his return.

Now he did scowl. This was a direct insult, showing off the power he had over Gaius.

But such a petty request was not worth his energy to fight. Arrangements must be made. Besides, even cleaning an apartment could present opportunities.

Directly outside the bars of Mark’s cell, Gaius sets his feet on a table, getting comfortable. Tonight, he’s not wearing Tremere robes, but tan clothes, with long black boots, somewhat reminiscent of a prison warden from decades ago.

Other new kindred were to be shipped off to Elysium tonight after being held in the chantry. He figured Mark would fit right in with them - no reason to give him a warmer welcome than the others. If Julius wanted him to personally bring him in… fine. A prison suited him well.

Gaius, a chronic user of rituals to give him more hours of consciousness, waited for Mark to leave daysleep. Finally seeing him stir, he leers at Mark. “Finally up? Have a nice nap?” Mark looked at him, surprised, and reached for glasses he surely didn’t need any longer. “You sure screwed that one up.” Gaius couldn’t believe this idiot had already broken the masquerade, in such a spectacular way that Julius hadn’t been able to hide it from him.

He couldn’t even consider Mark’s screwup a good thing; he needed Mark to stick around and do well. If Mark became too easy of a target, Gaius would be forced to take advantage, perhaps even punishing him with final death, to avoid making Julius suspicious. Or, Julius himself would tire of Mark and replace him. It wouldn’t do for him to be discarded for something as simple as a masquerade breach.

Perhaps Mark thought himself untouchable. Gaius smirked to himself - he should be able to cure him of that tonight.

Mark looked miserable already, and hesitated before replying. “Look, I, I don’t remember much of what happened. Do you know why I’m here?”

Gaius continues staring at him, stroking his lower lip with his thumb, holding his beard. “You tell me!” he says, grinning. He knows damn well Mark remembers almost killing that college kid - this wasn’t his first frenzy.

“I’m serious, I think I’m having a psychotic episode or something.” Mark holds his hand against his forehead, truly making a show of trying to remember.

Oh please. Gaius leans his chair back as he replies “You’re either lying to me, or yourself, or both. Either way, you’re full of shit.”

Mark fidgets with his glasses. “Look, what happened to me wasn’t normal. But I… I get a phone call right? Can I please have my phone call?”

Gaius laughs for a good five seconds, bitterly and caustic. “A phone call. Right. You’re definitely lying to yourself here. See, the thing with you new fledglings is, usually if you break the masquerade, you die. But you get to be special.” As he speaks, he slits his arm, down the vein. Blood drips onto the floor, and Mark can’t help but stare at it.

He continues. “Yes, it's blood. You can keep staring, that’s fine. So, the thing is, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to spend time on you tonight. Or any night. But you know how it is – I owe a guy, who owes a guy. So I’m going to…. help you out.” He lowers his gaze and smirks.

Mark is hardly paying attention. The blood dripping down Gaius's arm is clearly occupying his focus. Gaius knows Mark must be hungry; to him, the blood should be hypnotic.

Gaius rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling as he continues, knowing Mark is only half listening. “But the masquerade, it’s fundamental. If you wanna last at all, you better learn it. Doesn’t matter how hungry you get, don’t pull that again.”

Looking directly at Mark, staring with unblinking eyes, he speaks simply. “I don’t like you.” A pause. “See, if it was up to me, you’d be on a dinner plate.”

At that, Mark looks back at him instead of the pool of blood and shuffles uncomfortably. That did the trick. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. H-how long have I been here?”

Too long.

Gaius decides it's time to stop taunting the fledgling. He contorts and lengthens his nail, dipping it in the blood he spilled. “Doesn’t matter, you won’t be here much longer.” Using the bloody nail, he signs a paper sitting on his desk; official release of Mark to the Keeper of Elysium tomorrow evening, passing responsibility along to him. Damn Camarilla paperwork.

“What was that?”

“Your requisition order. Now, like I said, I have to help you out, but not for much longer, thank god. So… If you need anything, like… hmm, food, water, toilet paper…” He pauses after each item, enjoying his joke. “Go ahead and press that button in your cell. On the back wall there. I’ll have to come back; and if I do, it’d better be for a good reason. See you around.”

Before Mark can reply, he dissolves into shadow.

Back to his lab; time to finish his notes.

Gaius, being not only an elder but one of the first mages of house Tremere to be embraced, had developed many thaumaturgical rituals and was privy to many secrets. Video Nefas was only one example; this now archaic and forbidden path of sorcery could rip memories from a victim's mind and peer into souls.

However, Gaius mostly used it to keep track of his own progress and plans.

Speaking aloud in his personal haven, he summarized what was left to do.

“December 30, 1999. There are approximately 9 lunar cycles remaining until the cosmos are in their proper alignments for the ritual.

Lucius continues to grow in occult knowledge and takes well to his studies. Smart kiddo. Divination of his fate continues to be uncertain, but the timing of disturbances in the readings align with when the ritual should occur, which I take as a promising sign. I… I must continue to push him to be a suitable, erm, to be suitable, for Alexander.”

Gaius frowned in silence for a moment before continuing.

“The text I arranged for him to read next should be available to me next week. He will have to learn Latin to read it, thus serving a dual purpose.

Moving on. The collection of quintessence from Sparky continues at its slow rate. Current predictions indicate we will reach our goal with a month's time to spare. Bobbie, needy as ever, has said she needs more ghouls to assist in its protection, which I have assured her I will help provide.

Julius has acquired a new childe that he clearly intends on being a spy. Based on previous intel, this selection is slightly ahead of schedule, I am unsure of why but it will likely play to my advantage.

No idea why he picked this guy, but anyway. Personal effects of the fledgling were acquired for future scrying and rituals from his apartment. He will soon become directly under my influence once Kyle makes contact with him. Lucius may also meet him. Memory spheres have been arranged in my laboratory intended to make the fledgling open to allying with me against Julius, for when he inevitably attempts a break-in. In my assessment he is not a crucial asset, easily handled should he prove incompetent or overly loyal to Julius, but could regardless be useful.

Moving on to more important matters, the coup is tomorrow. I’ll finally be free of the fool Hookman. Soon-to-be-Prince Akikaos has committed to requiring half as many resources from me as Hookman did, allowing me to finish experiments and preparations in time for the ritual with plenty of time to spare. Assuming the coup is successful, I now should also be able to maintain my responsibilities as Regent until the time comes. If it is not, I shall submit my notice of resignation as soon as possible.

Next week, again assuming the coup succeeds, I will be expected at the crowning of this new Prince, and I have also promised Lucius I would go to some sort of amusement park with him. A welcome break. For him and for me.”

As he spoke, Gaius sketched out a complicated sigil outline on parchment. He paused his writing, reaching for a metallic sphere.

There were hundreds of them in his haven, on shelves embedded into the walls. Gaius had even more in storage. Some glowed gently, others were dim like the one he had just selected.

Doing nothing but focusing his vitae in the proper ways, Gaius replayed what he had just said in his mind, wrenching it forward, and outward, copying it into the sphere.

It was automatic; a reflex. He had done it thousands of times before.

Now, should he wish to remember, he merely had to retrieve this sphere. He placed it in its proper place on the shelf, joining hundreds of others.

The records of the final stages of his plot, over a millennia in the making.

Julius would die.

His son Alexander would return to the world of the living.

He could leave kindred society behind.

Everything he had worked for would reach its conclusion.

#vtmfangfest24 #my writing #SOB SCARED #mark vtm oc

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anonymousewrites · 2 years ago

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Clan of Three (Book 2) Chapter Eight

Father Figure! Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eight: The Base

Summary: While the Razorcrest gets repaired, Mando and (Y/N) take a job with familiar faces.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” muttered Mando as he fiddled with the Razorcrest controls again. The ship had been pieced together, barely, and was flying unsteadily, but it required continuous monitoring. “No. Nothing.”

“He’s in the wires again,” said (Y/N), peering into the hole in the wall where the Child had situated himself. “But I don’t know if he got the red out. Hey, buddy, no, not that one. That one. Good.”

Mando was slightly amused at the affectionate relationship between the pair. Good. They’ll have each other when they leave me. His heart sank. But who would he have?

“We’re plugging the red wire into where the blue wire goes, right?” asked (Y/N).

“Yes,” said Mando.

“Alright, kid, switch the wires,” said (Y/N). The Child looked at the wires in his hands curiously. “Don’t touch them. Just put the red where you just got the blue one—” The Child touched the wires together and squeak as there was a short spark. He was unharmed, but smoke filtered out of the hole. “We warned you,” sighed (Y/N).

The Child cooed and climbed out to them. Mando took a seat next to them. “There’s no way we’re making it to Corvus in this shape. I think we need to visit some friends for repairs.”

(Y/N) perked up. “Peli or Nevarro?”

“We’re too far away from Tatooine and she’d charge a fortune, so Nevarro,” said Mando.

Sputtering, the Razorcrest managed a fairly gentle landing on the outskirts of Nevarro without breaking apart. Karga and Cara walked towards the group with grins as they descended onto the planet surface.

“Looks like someone could use some repairs,” observed Karga, amused. He shook Mando’s hand and then (Y/N)’s.

“How’s my credit around here?” asked Mando.

“I think something could be arranged. Isn’t that right, Marshal?” asked Karga rhetorically to Cara.

Cara smiled. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I’ll get my best people on it,” promised Karga. He gestured to a few men milling about. “Let’s fix this man’s ship! I want it good as new!” He turned to (Y/N). “Now, how has the little bounty hunter been?”

“I helped capture an imperial freighter,” said (Y/N) proudly. Karga whistled.

Cara smirked. “Great job, kid.”

“I sent them out the cargo hold,” elaborated (Y/N).

“Good thinking,” said Cara. “And did you use anything I showed you?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Avoid hits if you can instead of blocking.”

“Great,” said Cara, smirking.

Mando sighed. Everyone was encouraging their instincts to fight.

“And this little one?” Karga picked up the Child, who cooed happily. “You’ve been taking good care of the kids, right, Mando?” The Child babbled. “Yeah? Yeah! He said, ‘Yeah!’” ” He chuckled and walked into Nevarro.

(Y/N) looked around as they walked. Nevarro felt less seedy, more developed. Certainly safer. More people were walking the streets, selling their wares. “A lot has changed,” they observed.

Karga nodded. “I myself have been steeped in clerical work. Marshal Dune here is to be thanked for cleaning up the town.”

“Your ship’s not lookin’ too good, Mando,” teased Cara.

“I had a run-in with the New Republic,” said Mando.

“And a swarm of spiders,” added (Y/N).

Karga sighed as he guided them to a building. “The New Republic should leave the Outer Rim alone. If the Empire couldn’t settle it, what makes them think they can? Here we are.” It was the bar their showdown with Gideon had been at.

“I’m surprised this place is still standing,” said Mando.

“Wait till you see inside,” said Cara, gesturing for them to enter.

Mando and (Y/N) walked in and stopped. It was a classroom. The bar had been transformed into a proper school for the children of Nevarro.

“A school?” remarked (Y/N), pleasantly surprised. These kids would have a shot at a normal life, educated and safe in the new city Nevarro was becoming.

“Things have changed a lot around here,” nodded Cara.

Karga put down the Child. “We’ll leave the little one here so we can talk business. There’s a class upstairs for teenagers.”

“Wait. Wherever I go, he and (Y/N) go,” said Mando, wanting to keep his kids by his side.

“Mando,” said Karga. “Where we’re going, you don’t wanna take a child. Trust me.”

“I’m coming,” said (Y/N) firmly.

“Kid—” started Cara.

“I’m coming,” repeated (Y/N).

“They’re coming,” said Mando. “Don’t try to argue with them. They won’t listen.” And he had to admit, he was rather proud of how firm they were in their ways. It was a little like him, following his Way to the end.

“Fine, fine. But the Child stays. He’ll be fine here. You have my word,” said Cara.

Mando glanced back at the Child, who waved at him from a seat. He nodded.

Karga and Cara led them into a small office where a man with blue skin a fin-like ears was working at a desk. Mando paused for a moment, and (Y/N), after spending so much time with him, recognized that he knew whoever the man was. The alien froze, fearful at seeing Mando.

“I believe you two have met,” said Karga.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” said Mando.

“Right back at ya,” said the man nervously.

“Mythrol here’s taken care of my books since he was a pollywog,” said Karga. “But then he disappeared one day after a bit of ‘creative accounting.’ ”

Mythrol coughed nervously. “Magistrate Karga was generous enough to let me work off my debt.”

“Three hundred and fifty years, but who’s counting?” said Karga.

“Well, if he runs off on you again, let me know,” said Mando. (Y/N) snickered at Mythrol’s frightened expression.

“Let me assure you, I do not wanna spend any more time in carbonite,” said Mythrol deferentially. “Still can’t see outta my left eye…”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Can we talk business?”

“We’re only here for repairs,” said Mando, and (Y/N) nodded, although it wasn’t unusual for them to become sidetracked.

“Which’ll take a while,” said Karga. “Which means you and your protégé will have free time on your hands, right?” He sighed. “And we could really use your help.”

“Help how?” asked (Y/N).

Cara brought up a holographic map of Nevarro. “This is Nevarro. We’re here. This entire area’s a green zone. Completely safe. But over on this side is the problem.”

“It’s an old imperial base,” said Karga.

“Because when isn’t it,” grumbled (Y/N).

“It’s where all those troops came from when we defeated Moff Gideon,” explained Cara. “This base has been here since the Imperial expansion. It’s got a skeleton crew, but for some reason, it hasn’t been abandoned.”

So there’s probably something more going on, thought (Y/N). If Gideon was involved, he had something more planned. I mean, he did want the kid and me because of our powers.

“There’s a lot o’ heavy weaponry in that place the black market would love to dismantle and get its hands on,” said Karga.

“And you wanna mop up the last of the imperial forces before they do,” said Mando.

Karga pretended to be affronted. “Mando, I just want them off my planet.”

(Y/N) snorted. Altruistic he is not. But I do believe he is trying to protect Nevarro.

“If we could take out that one last base, Nevarro would be completely safe,” said Karga. “We could be a trade anchor for the entire sector.”

“And the planet would finally be free,” said Cara.

Mando was silent and looked down at (Y/N). They met his gaze, their eyes firm and determined. They wanted this. He did too.

“What are we looking at?” asked Mando. They were in.

(Y/N) leaned back in the speeder beside Mando as it flew over Nevarro’s lava plains towards the imperial base. Cara sat in the front with Mythrol while the other three were in the back.

“The whole base is powered by a reactor,” explained Karga.

“We sneak in, overload the reactor, and get the hell outta there,” said Cara.

“Let’s be fast. And keep the speeder running,” said Mando.

Karga pointed ahead. “There it is, right there.”

Up in the canyon walls, a small base loomed above them.

“How close you want me to drop you off?” asked Mythrol nervously.

He is not built for this, thought (Y/N).

“How ‘bout the front door?” said Karga sarcastically.

Mythrol gulped. “It’s a little close for a civilian, isn’t it?”

“I got two choices for ya. You take it in and I knock a hundred years off your debt,” began Karga.

“Or?” asked Mythrol.

“Or I leave ya out here in the lava flats to walk home with whatever’s left in your humidity vest,” said Karga.

“It’s not much of a choice, is it?” said Mythrol.

Cara smirked as Mythrol sadly drove them up to the entryway at the bottom of the canyon.

“Alright. We can’t go any further than this,” said Mythrol.

“Let’s go,” said Karga, hopping from the speeder alongside the rest of the team.

With their blasters out, they approached the door. Mando fiddled with the controls before straightening.

“Controls are useless. They’re melted,” said Mando.

“Lava will do that,” said (Y/N).

“Imperial trash,” muttered Cara.

“Alright, I’m headed back,” said Mythrol, raising a hand. “Hit me up on the comm, we could set up a rendezvous time.”

“You park your gills right there until I say otherwise,” said Karga.

“I’m starting to dehydrate, boss,” said Mythrol.

“Okay, how does thirty more years off your debt sound?” questioned Karga.

Mythrol sighed. “Can you at least be quick about it?”

“You wanna be quick? Grab the flange cutter and help us out,” ordered Karga.

“Okay, fine.” Mythrol got up out of the speeder. “I don’t like leaving my speeder like this, just so you know.”

“Come on, hurry it up,” said Karga.

“Mando?” asked (Y/N). They could tell he was thinking of something as he gazed up at a platform above.

“Hold tight. Watch (Y/N).” Mando jumped up into the air with his jetpack.

(Y/N) put their hands on their hips. “Keep clear.”

They watched as the body of several stormtroopers were flung over the side of the platform and fell to the ground below. A moment later, the elevator doors opened. (Y/N) grinned. Mando had gotten them a way in.

(Y/N), Cara, and Karga got in. Mythrol remained outside, nervously attempting to shuffle away.

“Are you comin’ in or what?” questioned Karga.

“I’ll take my chances here, but thank you,” said Mythrol.

“Have fun getting fried by lava tides,” said (Y/N), rolling their eyes.

Mythrol paled and shuffled into the elevator.

Wuss, thought (Y/N).

Taglist:

@im-making-an-effort

@gr33n-d00dles

@alexpangender

@painstakingly-juno

@treehouse-mouse

@theurbannoodle

@pedropascalsidechick

@dmitrytherat

@dilfsaremyfavourite

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macwantspeace · 11 months ago

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Oh for crying in the sink. Got a notice that, oopsies, Change Healthcare gave away all your medical info. Maybe your payment mode info. Your butt size. We dunno. Could include name, address, soc security number, insurance, doctor, meds. Just call us up and perch on hold for an hour, you deaf motherfucker, and we will arrange for credit monitoring. Already signed up for free Experian monitoring because of the AT&T breach. Quit them years ago. Snort. Try to be me and get more credit. Mwa ha ha!

The doofi can't even add a thumbnail image.

#change healthcare #oops I the whole hard drive #data breach

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leam1983 · 8 months ago

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Tech - FAQ

Why do magnets still fuck up computers? Aren't plate drives archaic?

Plate drives might be going the way of the dodo as active storage, but magnetism isn't going anywhere. NAND cells use magnetic polarity to shift bits as needed. A control gate handles the programming and the chip's interfacing with the rest of your drive or your system altogether, and a floating gate stores a charge, so that you can theoretically unplug an SSD, leave it lying around for ages, then plug it back in on a whim to find that all your stuff's still there. It's essentially the same tech that's been used since the first few plate drives - and even in things like your old SNES carts. It's why you still have that Megaman X save on your thirty-odd year-old cart - assuming of course that you don't go about sticking a big enough magnet on it.

Fucking magnets - how do they work? I mean, in relation to data?

Alright. Imagine that you're both Jackson Pollock and Magnetism personified. You start out with a row of paint cans and a blank stretch of canvas - a nice, clean and orderly hard drive, more or less. There's magnetic force involved even in the system's proper state - after all, you've got paint in cans. It's just not splashed everywhere, right now.

The thing is, systems want to create neat and orderly drive systems. This is why you'd defragment your drives back when plate drives were super common. The thing is, that pesky user keeps pulling files and shifting them to RAM, which fucks up your neat and orderly arrangement! Unlike raw magnetism, however, a computer fetching files and moving bits around is working as intended. Put a magnet on that drive and, well, you're Pollock splashing paint everywhere, creating beautiful chaos - and an irrecoverable drive.

But if drives are magnetic, then what's the issue?

When an SSD calls up a file, it's doing so in a controlled and expected manner. Magnetism is involved, the NAND chip's configuration changes to match the new state - but nothing's going haywire. Add a magnet to this and you're adding too much of a good thing.

Does any magnet work?

No, thankfully. One of my older PCs ended up with Buckyballs stuck somewhere in the drive cage - I was a dumb teen with way too many desk toys for my own good - and nothing's ever happened. Sticking a fridge magnet or a credit card's strip against a drive won't do much; most PC parts are actually built to tolerate some exposure to open magnetic fields - but leaving that magnet there or going for something bigger might cause issues.

Aren't LCD screens magnetic?

Technically, yes! However, the screen is running off of a controlled and isolated field, and nobody's sticking a computer monitor right next to a running power supply, anyway. You'll need a fairly targeted application of a bigger field to really fuck up your little crystals' polarity - thereby creating the dreaded "dead pixels" video enthusiasts loathe so much.

Let's talk OSes - specifically, dumb shit I'm too scared to try but always wanted to do. What happens if I delete System32 in Windows?

Most modern versions of Windows - we're talking 7 and above - won't let you touch that folder, even with normal elevated system privileges, as a computer's Admin. You can mash Delete for days, the OS just won't let you nuke it. However, a little Terminal wizardry can succeed in telling Windows "shut up, I own you, let me delete the equivalent to your cerebellum, I have Reasons that have nothing to do with wanting to test an insult or run with a shitpost".

The system will ask you a few more times, as you really shouldn't be doing this - and will then let you proceed ahead. In short order, you'll realize that your current rig is, for all intents and purposes, fucked severe. Even rebooting won't let you fix it, even if you're trying to backtrack to a previous Restore Point. Your only option, at this point, is a complete reformat and reinstall.

Is this why the FORMAT.C command always brings up a warning?

That is exactly why. FORMAT.C, in Terminal or PowerShell, is effectively computer-speak for "I want you to start over, in the most abrupt and uncalled-for way possible. Wipe yourself."

And if what you want is to wipe away a system's very existence, there's more effective, physical and gratifying ways of doing that, anyway. Most of them involve an already-scrapped microwave and a power drill! Awesome!

What is the black magic I need to delete System32? I swear I want to do this to a virtual machine, and not to perpetrate an act of technological malfeasance on someone I happen to loathe.

If you need to ask about the black magic, you're not ready for the black magic. Google is your friend, and I'm not responsible for what you do on your own time.

Linux is so much better, the system trusts me! But, just for funzies, how can I fuck up a distro running off of Ubuntu?

It's the object of the same memes as "delete System32". If the darkness calls to you, thou shall find thine answers upon the myriad pages of Google.

Water's a poor conductor; I remember this from Physics class! Why my PC go broky if I spray it with a garden hose, then?

Because it's not the water that's making the magic smoke happen, believe it or not. If you were a baller and could spray your PC with a tank's worth of pure, ozonized water with absolutely zero particulates in it and no minerals whatsoever, it would probably be totally fine. Hell, there's even entire PC build projects that involve immersing components in purified water. The problem is, tap water isn't exactly pure. There's trace minerals in it, we typically add fluoride as well, and most water tables fall somewhere on the pH and alkalinity scales, and not often in the "objectively pure" margins of them. And even if you could guarantee a basin of 100% pure H2O, then you'd just condemn your PC to suffocation by way of its own building and festering thermal mass. You'd need systems to agitate the water or to re-absorb its heat before diffusing it elsewhere.

This is also why distilled water isn't often used in full-immersion builds, seeing as distilled water is hard to keep in its pure state. You need air to leech off some of its absorbed heat, and exposure to the outside world means a potential exposure to trace minerals, dead skin flakes or other bits of stuff that aren't chemically related to water and that happen to conduct a charge a little bit better, so...

Is this why this never really took off, compared to the liquid-cooling rigs we know of?

Yes. A well-assembled water-cooling loop has water come in contact with a cooling plate, which itself touches the CPU, or occasionally the GPU as well. As it's a closed loop, any traces of organic components - like fungi - could be dangerous over time. It's why most dye kits for water-cooling loops typically generously include a little bottle of sterilizer. The one issue is that with copper being one of the most thermally-effective metals and also fairly rust-prone, a lot of care has to be involved. A lot of cautious water-cooling enthusiasts tend to advise users in that space to drain out and dry out their loop every few years, to check for signs of corrosion.

But fans are so noisy!

I know, but if you're a budget, an air-cooled build is going to be the most effective approach you could take.

What about AIOs?

All-in-One systems are convenient, but you can't typically access the coolant that's circulating in the loop. On the one hand, an airtight system means no buildup of anything. On the other? No maintenance is possible. If it breaks, it breaks. The average AIO has a life expectancy of about five years - about the same lifespan as your typical rig.

Why is everyone bad-mouthing Windows? I'm just an end-user, I don't give a shit about what I put on my computron!

In a few words, Microsoft's pivoted from its former business model, which involved selling legitimate copies of their OS at high prices, to selling their users' data to the highest bidder. It generates far more profits, it's dystopian as shit, and it's a frightfully smart business decision. I don't approve of it one bit - but it's still smart. In the "I don't give a shit about you, now give your browser history, I'm Patrick Bateman with a fancy ISO to give to you" sense of it being smart.

You and I are the product, now. This is why people are moving to Linux - even if I think this is a flawed solution to a problem that has objectively very few serious consequences for the average end-user.

What do you mean? This is terrible!

Yes, it is! However, your collection of cat pics or your snapping stills with a phone because DRM doesn't let you capture frames for a gifset is of zero worth whatsoever to both Microsoft and the advertisers your data is sold to. The more private aspects of your life are safe, for the most part - what they're focused on is what they could sell to you. So - that involves most of your browsing history and potentially your emails, too. Windows Recall, however, could up the ante by giving MS access to those less-marketable aspects of who you are. That's the onus, here.

What's that?

A user-accessible long-term memory of sorts, used to help the user remember previous tasks or recall where certain elements are stored. It seems neat, until you realize this means Microsoft wants to record everything you do at your computer.

And Linux is better?

It doesn't overtly spy on you - at least, not if you stick to most trustworthy distributions, or OS installs. You're paying for an uptick in privacy with a loss in convenience, however. The more tech-savvy you are, the easier you'll get used to Linux. This isn't to say there aren't noob-friendly distros, there's actually several - but if something goes wonky, chances are you could find yourself stuck on your distro's Community forums, trying to divine what this rando means when he's asking you to list what the lspci command returns. Most enthusiasts in the sphere are nice, but several tend to forget that for a lot of end-users, there's no thrill in spending a few days hunting-and-pecking for a fix. Grandma won't grep shit, she just wants her Bluetooth manager to work!

What's grep?

It's Orc-speak for "find shit now." Jokes aside, it means Global Regular Expression Print. It's a command you can input in a Terminal while accessing a file, to have it search for what's inside. So if I open up a folder called "chocolate chip cookie recipe" in Linux and want to check how much flour I need while being too lazy to open the file on my own, I can just head to the terminal and type grep flour chocolatechipcookies.doc Grep tells the computer it'll need to look for something, flour is what it needs to look for in the file, and chocolatechipcookies.doc is what I'm pointing it to. I'm basically saying "Look in the chocolatechipcookies.doc file and find me all instances of the word flour being used."

If your head feels about to burst, I get it. It's a lot, and it's non-obvious - much like Windows' own Terminal or PowerShell languages.

Ah. So some Linux peeps think people are just going to troubleshoot everything themselves?

I know, right? It's almost as if some of these people forgot that for a lot of folks, a PC is just a convenient portal for emails, social networks and the occasional YouTube binge-watch.

So you don't believe we'll ever get the Year of the Linux Desktop?

Nope. Linux is too atomized, too fiddly, too focused on doing things honestly, as opposed to practically. Windows and MacOS aren't in any real danger of losing their market shares, even if the number of Linux users is slowly and steadily increasing. Unless Linux Mint or something close to it becomes so foulproof that your grandma can flat-out not know of the Terminal's existence without it impacting the computer's usage even in the advent of software failure, then we won't get a fully reliable third option.

I don't know what you're talking about, I've changed permissions on my Plex server and I passed my GPU through a VM for containerized Windows gaming on Linux; it's stupid as shi-

You're not the average use-case scenario, Steven. Sit back down. Raise your hand again once you're eighty-six and barely know how to access your NeuraMail or connect with the Galactic Sodality while your hypothetical grandchildren drone on about leaving the prison of the flesh for the purity of silicon wafers and you feel an encroaching sense of Sartrian Contingency rise up in the pit of your stomach upon realizing how incomprehensible this cold and barren new world is for you.

#IT Post #FAQ

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ephemaera-arch · 5 months ago

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@focusedecption sent: [ONE BED] a starter where our muses have to share the same bed (for danny and henley)

every once in a while, henley wonders if someone in the eye thinks they're being funny. sure, it could be a series of coincidences, but the eye is so put together that a part of her really doubts it. because how could an organization that crafts entire false identities for one night's worth of work not manage to correctly book a hotel room? and on valentine's day of all days? yeah, henley is willing to bet someone is cackling in front of a surveillance monitor somewhere.

the eye had sent her and danny on a late-night reconnaissance mission to the main offices of the company that provided credit republican's armored trucks. they hadn't found much aside from a few new names among the staff, which felt distinctly like something henley could have found out with ease from their arrangements in paris. but for whatever reason, the eye had sent them here, to a little hotel lobby, several hours away from home base, leaving henley to wait at the front desk, trying to look as patient as possible. the concierge looks up from her computer screen with a frown. 'i'm sorry, madame,' she says in heavily accented, but near-perfect english, 'but we have no rooms open other than the one you booked.' a part of henley wants to point out that, according to the information she was given, they had booked a room with two beds, but she knows there's no point. this poor girl can't do anything about it beyond what she's already done. 'even outside paris, it is busy,' the girl offers, 'for the la saint-valentin. the tourists, they find romance all over france.' henley offers a little laugh, though she's unable to keep a twinge of weariness from her features. 'thank you for trying,' she replies in what her mother had always called adequate french, 'we will make do.' the younger woman nods, relief clear on her features, and bids the magician a good night.

with a sigh, henley sweeps across the lobby over to where danny is sitting and picks up her bag. 'no room at the inn,' she says gravely, 'looks like i'm gonna have to pop one out in the stables again.' ( she had been a rather lovely jewish mary in her elementary school's christmas pageant, if you asked her. ) russet locks sway as she nods her head back down the hall from whence they came. 'guess we're doing a throwback tonight.'

#this took me an embarrassingly long time but here we are #; henley reeves #focusdeception #focusdeception ; danny

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zylophie · 2 years ago

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AU ALPHABET TEMPLATE

NOTE 💬 : Please do not copy/steal. If you want to borrow our template, you may ask for permission and give credits, that's all we're asking for!

A pocalypse - The End of The World, only some few survivors remain where either you and he character are survivors or one of them are the predators(Zombie). This AU is a survival story template.

B ounty Hunter - Where one is a fugitive and the other is the bounty hunter. /Either you or the character is the assassin who is hired to kill the other

C lock - Is when a character from the future travels to the past for whatever reason (to study history, criminal punishment, to fix or change an event, etc.) or because they lost control of their power/magic (or the time machine malfunction). They meet another character from that time period and they usually fall in love with each other.

D iary - Where your diary can decide between life and death, each diaries are unique depending on their owners. The diary will foresee your future in 10 minutes, very few people are chosen to possessed this "diary", a game that created by gods to toy with your life, can you rewrite the outcome in the end ?

E ntertainment - Actor/Idol AU, where character is an actor/idol and reader falls in love. (Please pick whether you want reader as a normal person or is an actor/idol with character)

F orged Marriage - Fake Marriage? Arranged Marriage? Marriage by Contract? (Business purposes) all of that is here where you/character either fall in love or end crushing the heart of the other person...was the relationship just a tool for their own gains?

G host - Where reader/character couldn't move on from their s/o's death. However their lover comes back as a ghost. Will character/reader move on? Or will it cause more lingering regrets.

H anahaki - Unrequited Love Is Dead Itself, a fictional disease where flowers and vines will grow inside your heart whenever you fall in love with someone but they don't return your affection, the seed will grow and suffocate your breathing, the only cures are either through surgery or the love interest return your affection making it as no longer as an unrequited love.

I maginary Friend - where you/character has an imaginary friend since childhood but as they grow up, the "friend" vanished without a trace and someway in the future, they met the exact "friend" again but they are real...

J ewel - where some people are born with gemstone in their chest, it's their core. They are considered as messengers of god taking the form of a human being to monitor the human realm but in reality, they are simply a "normal human being" with god's blessing and once time is up...they will return to the gods, leaving behind their gemstone as proof of their existence...

K ingdom - Where you/character are members of the royal family, either your own cinderella story or you are a prince/princess were arranged to marry another royal blood (Could be angst too if it's a love triangle)

L etters - a system where the magazine company will pair you up with a stranger who also seek for a companion to communicate with while remaining anonymous, becoming pen pals. As time goes on, feelings change and now you want to meet your pen pal in person for the first time...

M ind-Reader - where you/character were born with an ability to read minds considering this isn't an ability that most people are born with, they are seen as the outcast/the freak due to the fears of them being non-human. They may or may not need to touch to read the mind of a person

N eighbors - in the near future, you/character decide to move in an apartment complex to start your independent life as a working citizen but then they suddenly start having feelings for their neighbor next door...

O racle - where you/character are born with the ability to foretell the future (or have precognition abilities), or in other word, a third eye/god's eye

~> Need to touch person to see the future

P arallels - where you/character meet each other's counterpart upon wishing the other person would feel the same way as them but think it's impossible due to their personalities might make the relationship works until they meet their counterpart who said otherwise...

~> Basically wishing for them to feel the same way but think it's impossible/thinking you/character like someone else

Q uirk - where you/character has the ability to communicate and see spirit of the dead, known as the medium. The other person is a detective who is investigating the unsolved cases, they must work together to solve the mystery of the dead that can't move on just yet...

R essurection - where the reader is hit by truck-kun >\\\< and isekais into the characters world.

S oulmate - Where you are destined to another from birth, if you're failed to meet your soulmate in your previous life, you may be paired with 2 soulmates in your next life. Themes such as colorblind, writing, symbol birthmark and etc. Timer is the only theme that is guaranteed meeting your soulmate but the rest aren't guaranteed when

T ales - Dark fairy tales/fairy tales. (Example Nene as snow white, etc) [Fairy tales = Fluff, Dark Tales = Fluff/Angst]

U rban Legends - where you/character are a monster that only exist in folklores until your/their encounter with said monster (Kitsune, Yuki Onna, Oni, Werewolf, Vampire and etc) may be a happy or bad ending depending on the situation.

V illian - Where reader/character falls for each other.

W onderland - where you are the alice in this story, falling down into a rabbit hole and experience the world of bizarre and weird wonders but when it's time for you to go home...you may or may not have fall in love with someone in this oddly world, do you stay or leave behind dear alice?

X enon - in a future setting where technology advance further such as Ai and Androids. A scientist decide to develop an Ai to be put in an Android who can express human emotions to prove that anything is possible through science...you/character fall in love with the android as they become more "human" (the scientist can a family relative/character/reader/friend. state wise if you want a specific role)

Y ouTuber - where you or the character are a famous content creator online, modern setting and one of you are a big fan of theirs... (Including Streamers)

Z ephyr - Where blowing on a dandelion, will carry your wishes for the other person's well being/carrying a message to your beloved/when the wind breeze through them mean someone is singing for you to let you know they are there (Spirit watching over a living loved one/the wind carry your voice to the air)

~> Either they were lovers before becoming a spirit or they were already a spirit but fall in love with the living

#au alphabet

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