#I chose excess and couldn’t hack it

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (6)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

Not gonna lie, this is a bit of a filler chapter. But the NEXT chapter...that’s the one you’ve all been waiting for. Also, I’ve had “bad guy” by Billie Eilish stuck in my head for DAYS, so that’s the song playing during the runway show. 

*****

A week after the job at the director’s house, Riley sank into her first-class airplane seat and immediately opened her laptop, the tan pleather chair squeaking slightly as she crossed her legs beneath her. Dimming the brightness, Riley angled her laptop so no one could see it but her. She’d been profiled plenty of times in the past while writing perfectly benevolent code. Riley certainly didn’t need anyone catching her working on something more nefarious. 

If she did this right, then she’d be able to just connect her phone to whatever Louvre computer that controlled security and be free to do whatever she wanted. 

If she didn’t...she’d need to brush up on her French. 

Nikki dozed in the seat beside her. She’d been bouncing off the walls all morning in anticipation of getting to see Fashion Week in person after Riley had promised to go with her to as many fashion shows as they could sneak into. Nikki’s excitement was infectious. While the priority was to see the runway show of the designer whose Louvre afterparty they were crashing, before they boarded the flight, Riley found herself sifting through fashion blogs to determine which other shows she wanted to see. All couture, of course. 

Across the aisle, Jill had her nose buried in an incredibly thick book Riley couldn’t see the cover of, and behind her, Cage and Desi curled together like a human pretzel as they watched a movie. They were disgustingly happy, and that made Riley happy too. 

When they were somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic, Nikki awoke, grumbling, “You’re going to ruin your eyes if you stare at that screen any longer.” She was right. Riley’s vision had started to blur at the edges hours ago, and she knew she’d have a hard time focusing on things in the distance when she finally looked up. Riley saved her work and shut her laptop. 

Nikki still hadn’t budged from her awkward curled position, but her eyes were open. Riley figured now was as good of a time as any to make Nikki answer her last lingering question. “So you still haven’t told me why you and your boyfriend broke up,” she probed. “You know, the one who hacks everything else.” 

Nikki sighed, rolling her head to glare at Riley. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine.” Nikki sat up. “When we met, he told me he worked for a government think tank. Really nerdy stuff, does a lot of consulting. I figured he was smart but harmless.” 

“I remember.” 

“That was a lie. He’s a government agent, all right. But not the nerd kind. The double-O-seven kind.” 

Riley nearly choked. “A spy?” she hissed. “You dated a fucking spy?” 

“Surprise.” 

“How did you find out?” 

“The same way he found out about me. I originally told him I was a freelance art appraiser”—not far from the truth, actually— “and the IT job was to help make ends meet. We both bought each others’ lies at first, but over time we both struggled to keep our stories straight. And then one day it all just...fell into place, I guess. We had a massive fight, and by the time the dust settled, I think we both knew there was no going back to how things were before we knew the truth.” 

Riley laced her fingers through Nikki’s, conveying her empathy through touch rather than words. “What agency does he work for?” 

“The Phoenix Foundation.” 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“It’s DXS. The name changed while you were gone.” At least Nikki couldn’t still say the P-word either. But DXS...DXS could move Christmas. If Nikki’s boyfriend told anyone about her real job, they were all in trouble. Big trouble. 

“Think he’s going to come after you? Come after us?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Trying to lighten the mood, Riley said, “Ignoring the part where he knows you’re a criminal, it must’ve been pretty cool to date a real-life black-ops spy. I bet he knew all kinds of tricks.” The innuendo easily rolled off Riley’s tongue. 

Nikki smacked her shoulder. “We were having a nice moment and you had to go and ruin it by being gross. What the fuck, dude?” 

Riley rolled her eyes. “Love you too.” And she did. Despite the grudge she may or may not be holding, Riley loved her. She never stopped.

*****

They landed in Paris at night, and the Five Eyes crashed the moment they made it to their swanky, overpriced hotel room. The next day, they bounced around the city attending as many runway shows as traffic allowed. Riley didn’t understand the hubbub and overdone romanticism; Paris was just like any other major city—loud and overcrowded. And snobby. So very snobby. 

On their second day in Paris, the women chose to divide and conquer. Desi, Cage, and Jill teamed up to scope out the Louvre. Riley and Nikki attended the runway show of the designer whose masterpiece they intended to steal. 

As she and Nikki found their seats along the runway, Riley made a mental note of all the exits. Their seats were in the back, against a wall. Nikki hoped for a better view, but Riley liked it better this way. Sitting by a wall, she had something solid behind her and could see everyone come and go without having to turn around. Riley had always kept meticulous tabs on her surroundings—that’s what made her so good at her job—but the fear of not being able to see what’s coming was new. 

She didn’t tell Nikki about it. 

The blonde blended right in with the highly fashionable crowd, wearing a floor-length, gray plaid coat with hot pink lining. Nikki was completely in her element here, and sometimes Riley thought her friend would’ve been better off legitimately pursuing a career in fashion rather than letting Riley drag her into the world of shadows, secrets, and cons. 

While they waited, Riley fidgeted with a button on her black blazer. Her whole outfit was the same shade of her signature color—blouse, blazer, leather leggings. But her boots were the real showstopper—thigh-high black suede with intricate gold embroidery down the entire front. Riley saw them in a window yesterday and had immediately gone inside to purchase them. The boots were outrageously expensive, but it didn’t matter. Riley Davis was already a filthy rich woman, and after this job, she’d have more money than she would ever know what to do with. 

The house music quieted, and the designer—older man, favored his left leg, voice thin and raspy like a smoker—strutted down the runway, microphone in hand, welcoming the audience and beginning the show. He rambled on, ruminating over his inspiration for this collection. Nikki hung on every word. Riley tuned him out. 

So this was the man who was renting out the Louvre. Riley couldn’t even imagine the amount of money and favors it took to secure such an ostentatious party venue. 

What she could imagine, however, was that she’d surely be subjected to yet another one of these long-winded speeches at the afterparty tonight. On the bright side, that would buy her and her team extra time, making the job that much easier. 

The show began with a sweep of the lights as the music dropped to a low, pulsing beat Riley could feel just as much as she could hear. The crowd murmured respectfully as the first model appeared wearing a shiny black gown that looked like a trash bag had been melted to her body with the excess pooling on the floor. She told Nikki as much, earning an eye roll. 

The next gown was better—sheer fabric with countless thin, metallic gold vertical stripes. The skirt had pretty lines, giving the model the illusion of curves she didn’t have. After that was a strapless canary yellow ball gown with a full, pillowy train. 

“I don’t understand why designers keep making yellow clothes,” Riley hissed. “No one looks good in yellow.” 

“That model does.” 

“No one looks good in yellow.” 

Nikki twisted in her seat and glared, which Riley ignored. “Are you going to say anything nice?” 

“You’d miss my commentary if I stopped.” Riley’s snide comment earned her an elbow to the ribs, but she caught Nikki’s smile all the same. 

The next gown was cherry red satin, with huge ruffles on one shoulder and the opposite hip. The extra fabric was a lot, but there was something elegant about the gown nonetheless. 

Leanna would look good in that one, Riley stopped herself from saying aloud. Nikki—nor anyone else, for that matter—hadn’t said another word about Leanna since Riley first asked weeks ago. Suddenly their longtime friend was taboo, and Riley didn’t want to disrupt the tentative peace she had with Nikki just to push for answers she probably wouldn’t get. 

Another ugly gown, this one feathery pink with a sort of netting over top. 

But the last one...the last one caught the eye of every single person in the audience. 

Including Riley. 

The sheer dress was covered in intricate silver beading that accentuated its long sleeves and mermaid silhouette and left little to the imagination. It was the kind of show-stopping gown one wore when they wanted to be the center of attention. 

Despite the audience’s rising hum of approval, Riley still heard Nikki murmur, “That one is all you.” And it was. Riley would wear that gown in a heartbeat if she had the opportunity—too bad most jobs required her to blend in, not stand out. 

She was too busy lusting after the gown to respond. 

From her seat, Riley could just see into the wings, and she spotted who could only be the designer’s assistant, running the show behind the scenes. Even from a distance, Riley had a feeling the young woman’s hawk-like gaze missed absolutely nothing. The designer would be easy enough to bamboozle during the heist, but this woman could very likely become a problem. 

Riley committed the assistant’s appearance to memory and set the thought aside for later.

*****

Later that afternoon, the Five Eyes reconvened in their hotel suite. They still had a couple hours until they needed to get ready for the afterparty. Since only Cage and Nikki had been there before, Desi, Cage, and Jill had spent the day scouting the Louvre. It was good for Jill to work with Desi for a change; because of her military background, Desi’s way of thinking through a job diverged greatly from everyone else’s. 

Team meetings like this were one of Riley’s favorite parts of the job—swapping intel and strategizing the best way to pull off the job. Or the most fun way, which was usually also the riskiest. But tonight, the team was in unspoken agreement that they would play it safe, both because of Jill and the importance of this long-awaited job. 

Piled onto one plush, king-sized bed, the five women sat tangled together as they tore through the box of pastries Riley purchased on the way back to the hotel. For the first time in forever, Riley was hungry. She avoided dwelling on that fact as she licked her fingers and picked up stray crumbs that fell on the off-white comforter. 

“So, what did you learn?” Nikki quizzed Jill. 

Jill pushed up her glasses with her middle finger, speaking with her mouth full. “The room the party will be in is super fancy and at the far corner of the building.” She swallowed. “First floor.” 

“Good. What else?” Riley prompted. “How do Nikki or I get to security and the building’s system control?” 

“There’s an employee door in the hallway…” Jill trailed off. “Wait. This is a test, isn’t it? You already know.” 

Riley smirked. “I do.” 

Disbelief etched Jill’s face. “How? You told me yourself that you’ve never been there!” 

“I have my ways.” Riley would tell her eventually, but for now, it was more fun to lure trade secrets over Jill’s head. She reached for another buttery pastry, selecting one topped with slivered almonds.  

But before Riley could continue her taunting, Desi spoke up. “There’s something you should know.” The mood plummeted into seriousness. 

Riley and Nikki both raised their eyebrows. Go on. 

“Nikki’s ex was at the museum.” 

“Which one?” Nikki asked cautiously. Riley could hear the dread in her tone, the same dread that churned in her own stomach. 

“You know which one.” 

Riley swore. Nikki’s ex, the spy, was at the Louvre. “Did he see you?”

Cage answered, “We have to assume he did. And we also have to assume he recognized Desi and me as Nikki’s friends.” Riley set her pastry down, no longer hungry as the heist of her dreams started to crumble before her eyes. She refused to let that happen. 

“He was with a middle-aged man who definitely had a gun tucked into his belt,” Desi said. “Based on that and his haircut, I’d say he’s probably ex-military.” 

“Mac is too.” Tucking her knees to her chest, Nikki’s voice was uncharacteristically small as she spoke. Defeat wormed its way across her features. Nikki thought they couldn’t pull off the job now, Riley realized. 

No way. She wouldn’t let one stupid ex-boyfriend get in the way of her dream job. And her grossly large payday. 

“It’ll be fine,” Riley reassured. “He knows you’re into fashion, right?” Nikki nodded. “Then he has to assume you’re there for innocent, legitimate reasons. Innocent until proven guilty, remember? All we have to do is avoid looking suspicious, which we already do anyway. He won’t have any evidence to pin it on us besides a hunch, and even if he shares that hunch, he’ll get in trouble for not disclosing information about you and your relationship sooner.” 

Jill said, “That seems overly optimistic.” 

“Which one of us is the expert?” Riley snapped. Jill flinched, and the other three watched Riley warily. “Sorry,” she grumbled. 

The tension only somewhat dissipated. 

“Anyway,” Riley redirected. “We picked up the replicas.” She gestured to Nikki’s Balenciaga bag sitting open on a nearby chair. 

“Replicas?” Riley fought the urge to sigh at Jill and her constant questions. 

“What did you think we were going to do? Just take the jewelry and run like hell?” 

Jill’s silence was a resounding yes. 

“Pickpocketing 101. What did I tell you?” 

Understanding dawned in Jill’s wide, blue eyes. “When you steal something heavy, put something else in its place.” A pause. “We’re going to replace the jewelry with fakes so no one even realizes the real set is missing.” 

It was Cage’s turn to smirk. “She’s catching on.” The blonde leaned in. “So, can we see them?” 

Nikki was off the bed in an instant, retrieving a package wrapped in plain brown paper from her purse. She let Cage have the honor of unwrapping it and revealing the masterfully crafted jewels. 

The faux-sapphire and diamond necklace and earrings were stunning. And exact replicas of the real set. The only difference was a tiny, insignificant bump Nikki’s jeweler added to the back of each piece so they could quickly tell the difference between the replicas and the real deal. 

Desi whistled. “Damn. Those are stunning.” Beside her, Cage nodded appreciatively. “You would look so hot wearing those,” Desi murmured to her girlfriend. “Wearing only those.” 

Blushing furiously, Cage shoved her girlfriend off the bed. 

Riley knew that if she let them, her friends would spend hours examining the jewels. Clearing her throat to get everyone’s attention, she asked, “Everyone clear on the plan?” 

The four other women nodded in turn, first Desi, then Nikki, then Cage, and finally Jill. 

“Good.” 

“That’s it?” Jill questioned. “No team pep talk?” The other women chuckled, but Riley just rolled her eyes. 

“That one,” Desi pointed at Riley, “is the wrong person to ask for a pep talk.” 

Riley’s jaw dropped in mock outrage. “Hey! Speak for yourself.” Desi shrugged. Directing her attention back to Jill, “You really want a pep talk?” 

Jill blinked. 

“Don’t fuck this up.”

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask. 

@macrileyedits​ / @hellishrose​ / @incorret-macgyver-quotes​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem​ / @thecarrieonokay

[imsuchmarveltrash]

Revolutionary (A Stucky x Reader Imagine) - inspired by Badlands by Halsey [PROLOGUE + Chapter One]

“Hello, and I’m sorry: a salutation and a farewell. I don’t have much time. This Times New Roman is gonna fly through my fingertips, like a plague of moths. The hollow black-letter shells crunched into the ground, like the skin of a cicada. And you can do whatever you want with it–keep it to yourself, or let it serve as a warning.

“This city is disgusting; a corpse of what it used to be. The people are filthy, gluttonous: ruled by the power exchange of sex from the hands of the proletariat to the bourgeoisie. The tops of the skylines buzz with the lacklustre enthusiasm. The ground level is caked in dirt and rust and grime, and the people that dwell there awake and rub the filmy layer off their lukewarm eyes.

“There are some here I love, some who fear me, and some who wish I was dead. I didn’t ask for this. No one asks for this. You’re born into it. You grow up oblivious and sheltered, and one day the evil realities of this place hit you square between the eyes, like a perfectly aimed bullet. If this were a movie, I would ride off in some blood red sunset, down a stretch of desert road, into the wasteland that keeps us captive here. But this isn’t a movie. These are the Badlands.”

-Halsey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWCOW7TaGQE 

Chapter One: Castle

These were the Badlands. A singular long-forgotten city that existed leagues away from any other known civilisation. No one knew what happened to the rest of the world, just that as far as your eye could see, all that remained was a stretch of desert wasteland, seemingly endless. The city itself was completely dystopian: a dilapidated ground level filled with squalor and people living in misery. They were referred to as The Proletariat–the 99% that was forced to live off the scraps the government could barely care to provide. That other 1% was what you called the Bourgeoisie. They were the richest of the rich, living lives of excess and gluttony. Yet, the superfluity could never hide the emptiness that never wavered from their dull eyes.

The government could barely care for order. They’d passed few rules of society and as long as they weren’t broken there were never any issues. These rules were:

1.      The Badlands are what’s left of society, you may never leave.

2.      There is a clear line between Proletariat and Bourgeoisie. You cannot cross it. Be exiled if you dare.

3.      Relations between the Proletariat and Bourgeoisie are taboo. People who break this rule will be outcasted.

The government’s biggest concern was keeping the Proletariat separate from the Bourgeoisie. Naturally, people had their ways of bypassing the rules. They met in secret, spoke in codes. That was how you’d become part of an underground circle that believed in equal treatment of all people. The government only acted to keep the people they liked happy. The needs of the rest of the city were never prioritised. The group you belonged to wanted change.

You were a small group–barely over fifteen people. Consisting of people mostly part of the Proletariat, there were few Bourgeoisie members. These included Tony Stark, Natalia Romanova (better referred to as Natasha Romanoff), Loki Laufeyson, and Nicholas J. Fury.

The mastermind that was Tony Stark remained a mystery to you. The government adored him. A descendant of Howard Stark, the man responsible for the city surviving, Tony had both privilege and the weight of rather large shoes to fill. Yet, Tony was treated as royalty, but he couldn’t care less for the system the government had in place. He’d seen too many people  dying in the streets to be able to continue turning a blind eye. Soon after embracing his dissatisfaction, he’d met you, and the two of you formed a pact, vowing to make a difference.

Natasha was a beauty born straight into the government. She’d seen what they were doing and had been appalled. Unlike the rest of society, Natasha didn’t grow up sheltered. Her parents were government agents who helped enforce the ruling system. They wanted her to grow up to be just like them, so the system was her harsh reality from the start.

Loki was the most reluctant of the Bourgeoisie members in the group. He enjoyed his life of luxury and liked being able to have the entire city at his fingertips. He  just couldn’t take the injustice anymore. Not after his brother, Thor, renounced his position within the Bourgeoisie to be exiled to a low-class Proletarian lifestyle.

Nicholas Fury had stumbled into your group by chance, but it was a chance you were all thankful for. He was the right-hand man to Alexander Pierce, the leader of the government’s schema. His desire for equality along with his pull within the government, made him an integral part of your circle.

The Proletariat members consisted of you, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Thor Odinson, Peter Parker, Clint Barton, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Vision, James Rhodes, and Maria Hill.

You, Steve and Bucky had grown up together. Growing from friends in your youth to something so intricate yet indescribable as the three of you got older. They were your closest confidants and gave you both everything you wanted and needed. Relationships and labels didn’t exist within the Badlands, so you could exist freely with your boys. The three of you had made a pact to follow each other to the end of the line, even if that meant that they were following your lead through this revolution.

Thor Odinson joined shortly before his brother Loki. He’d been a member of high society but had a good heart. He’d spend a lot of his money trying to help those he could within the Proletariat in whichever way he could. This made him highly unfavoured with the government, so they propositioned him. He could either stop helping the Proletariat or be stripped of his wealth and become one of them. The convoluted system somehow gave the government the rights to do that. So, Thor chose to rather be a part of the Proletariat.

Peter Parker was your youngest member. He had a brilliant mind and, together with Maria Hill and Wanda Maximoff, had found a way to hack all of the government systems. There was no special reason for any of them being in your circle, they were only tired of living in squalor.

James “Rhodey” Rhodes and Pietro Maximoff also only joined for the cause. Rhodey because of Maria, and Pietro because of his sister. They were both strong fighters, which you knew you’d need to win this war, so you accepted the both of them gladly.

Bruce and Vision were two of the most intelligent men you’d ever known. They both had a passion for knowledge and, unfortunately, being born into the Proletariat didn’t allow them much access to it. Yet, with what they had, they somehow managed to be incredible at developing the weapons and tools that would be needed to power this revolution. Vision was spectacular with raw materials, having the skill to rival even the most qualified mechanical engineer, whereas Bruce was the Proletariat leading expert in chemical and biological weaponry.

Lastly, Clint Barton probably had the biggest vendetta out of anyone in your circle. Like Thor, he was exiled from the Bourgeoisie. What hurt him the most was that he’d lost his position because of falling in love and the government stripped him from his choice in the matter. Instead, they took his wife, Laura, only minutes after they’d gotten their marriage licence signed in secret. They took her to a government facility, never to be seen again, and had outcasted Clint to be a Proletarian. Knowing the cruelty of the government, he worried for Laura’s life and all that pain changed him, hardened him into the man he is now.

You were chosen as your circle’s  leader not only because of founding the group with Tony and your elaborate mind for strategy, but you all knew that the city would need a Proletariat leader after you overthrew the government. You weren’t self-elected. The group all believed in you. They knew that, mentally, you were the strongest and would be the best person to lead them both through the overthrow of the government and the change in the future. These may have been the Badlands, but this was your revolution.

[pollyannisms]

DISCORD HEADCANON DUMP

Ángela falls strictly into the Iceberg category, where promotion is off the table entirely because she is too valuable for the foundation where she is. Unless another version of her comes along, they would never find another person to do what she does with the same efficiency and fearlessness. It's like, how many forensic pathologists would be happy and willing to climb into the giant decomposing chest cavity of a potentially dangerous anomaly to get an insight on what it was that put them down? Not many besides Ángela, that's for sure! 

Okay, this is more of a general headcanon than one which applies to a Ángela alone. Still, I'm of the firm opinion that any researcher/doctor/security officer/etc. Who fits the profile of a 'team-leader (i.e. has assistant workers, trains future workers as a part of an apprenticeship program, etc.) has the additional duty of monitoring the workers under them, in addition to whatever job they are expected to perform, and reporting any concerning/dissenting/anti-social/overly-cruel or generally problem behaviour to the Ethical Enforcers before it becomes a more significant issue for the foundation at large. And it's from these reports that things like mandatory psych evaluations, increased surveillance, etc., are often borne. 

So, for example, let's say one of the forensic assistants under Ángela began vocally experiencing a higher degree of humanization of the individuals and anomalies they autopsy and expressing a great amount of guilt over it. Ángela would be obligated by her duty to report this to the ethics team, and they from there would schedule a psych evaluation for the individual in question, and advise Ángela to keep herself open if they need support in the mean time. From there though the ethics team and psych team would evaluate whether the employee was fit to continue their work or posed a danger to themselves, others or the foundation as a whole and consider taking steps from there.

A lot of the time when people in the foundation talk about O5 having ‘eyes’ everywhere, it’s in reference to these sorts of mandatory reporters. 

Ángela is in charge of choosing her team members (aka. forensic assistants to help her move bodies around, take measurements, etc.), and I think she is VERY VERY picky about who she takes and doesn’t. 

Though this is because she does a lot of the grosser, more gruesome and dangerous aspects of the job that no one else wants to do (and therefore gets pushed off onto her), and she doesn’t want to have anyone go with her, who she can’t rely on in a pinch and who can’t bear the emotional burden of her job. iii

Prompt: For researchers; What was their favorite SCP assigned to them and why? Do any stick out in their memory? Why? What did they do and what were they?

Ángela’s favourite SCP and also most heartbreaking assignment was SCP-8699 or The Living Dead. They were a humanoid anomaly that was inanimate most of the time but became animate during instances of a full moon. Which weird as it is, wasn’t their anomalous trait. It was the fact that they could not be killed by brute force, but could not regenerate themselves, actively decayed like a corpse but remained alive during full-moon periods, felt no pain and seemed to know nothing about itself other than that it existed, but seemed incapable of understanding that it should’ve been dead. 

They were given to Ángela during an entirely separate SCP investigation and were undergoing an examination to create a link between said aforementioned SCP and themselves - but regained animation and sentience on the exam table. Causing Ángela’s crew to evacuate the lab and Ángela to retreat into the observation room to trigger the breach in progress alarm. Though, to Ángela’s surprise, rather than attempting to break into the observation room to try and kill her, they ripped off their EKG and hid under the exam table and seemed terrified, crying and shaking and trying to cover themselves. 

Ángela, being Ángela and seeing this, turned on the speakers in the lab from the observation room and did her best to comfort the SCP, and directed them to some extra lab coats she kept in case of emergencies and talked with them, and between the jigs and the reels, managed to calm them down, explained they weren’t in trouble and that there had been a mistake, and played four games of tic-tac-toe before the security team finally got to the lab and secured 8699 and rescued Ángela. 

Though on their way to move 8699, dawn broke, and they reverted to an inanimate corpse once again. Ángela, with backing from her superiors, decided warranted further observation, and thus the pattern was detected, and they were classified!

Sadly though, Ángela and her team had to classify them as Khonsu, and due to their natural decay, 8699 was fully neutralized within two years of their discovery. Much to the heartbreak of the time assigned to them, as they were lovable in their way. Like, they were this 2.3 metre tall emaciated, rotting corpse that wouldn’t look out of place in a horror movie, with the mental maturity of a child and this sunshiny disposition and an apparent inability to understand the situation they were in entirely. I mean, how can you not love a shy, gentle giant that tries to hide behind its researcher that’s half its size.

What Ángela remembers about them the most though was when she was ordered to carry out a complete autopsy of them during one of their periods on apparent inactivity, as they were functionally dead and therefore able to be conducted without the possibility of excessive pain or cruelty. Before the dissection, though, Ángela, with backing from the Ethics committee, chose to have a meeting with 8699 and told them everything she was going to have to do and stressed that they were allowed to say no to anything ‘too invasive’ and the ethics committee would make sure she wouldn’t have to do it. But they didn’t care, they just shook their head and shrugged it off, saying ‘No, it’s fine, I won’t feel it anyways and I trust you, you’ll put me back together again,’ to which Ángela was like

Something unintentionally uncovered by the 8699, though, was that Ángela seems to have anosmia because, even when 8699 was falling into goo and bones and ‘reeked to the high heavens,’ so much so that they had to give it an airtight containment chamber. Ángela was able to remain in close contact with them and even eat in their presence.

Prompt: What was the scariest or most traumatic moment that your character has had to live through and how did they respond to the trauma in that moment?

For Ángela, there are four options for this question. There was the moment she found her older brother’s dead body bloated and disfigured and unrecognizable as him if it wasn’t for the crucifix necklace he always wore, which left her, well, non-functioning. She disconnected from her peers and family, developed depression, mentally regressed in terms of maturity, and developed muteness for the better part of 3 years following. In her defense, what she saw was horrifying for a child, and she wasn’t given trauma or therapy in the aftermath to help her cope.

- there was the incident that triggered her abduction hiring by the Foundation, which left her incredibly rattled and nervous about resuming her work for months following (though, with help from available counselling and therapy, she moved past that trauma and was able to return to work)- there was the first-ever containment breach she was a part of

 - where one of the patients she and her team were working on suddenly returned to life and sunk its teeth into her coworker’s throat—causing him to bleed out. She and her team members to have to leave him to it, which was the reason for her first promotion and was the incident that made it sink in that she wasn’t working for the government anymore and that the SCP Foundation was much more dangerous than she could have ever prepared for. Sometimes she still has nightmares about that assistant grasping at his neck desperately and trying to claw his way to the door to escape with them, only to be dragged back into the lab by the anomaly-infected corpse and the sound he made, oh god, the sound. Something between a wet rattle and a wheeze as he tried to cry for help despite his open wound.

And there was the lead up to 8699’s neutralization. See, before it’s death, it had requested Ángela visited them in the Foundation’s equivalent of a hospice center in Site 17, and she went. She used her vacation days and headed over, and things were going great! 8699 remembered Ángela and has perked up the moment it recognized her, and they chatted, about her team, the non-classified information about the site, how the flowers looked. The birds were coming home for spring, and things seemed, well, great, despite the ever-present vibe of forthcoming death. 

Then something happened- she couldn’t tell you what, but something clicked in 8699, like the gravity of the situation finally dawned on them, and they asked her to get closer. Given their history of non-violence and friendliness, was obliged by Ángela, and they spilled everything they knew about themselves and how they came to be what they were, which took Ángela by surprise and left her shocked. Never before had they lied. They were forthright, almost childishly so, so it seemed so strange. Then they said they had to give her something and began hacking and coughing violently. They seized and sputtered and Ángela, being a smart cookie, tried backing up. 

At this point, she was terrified. 8699 wasn’t acting like themselves. They didn’t seem like themselves, they were more erratic, agitated, and she didn’t know if they were going to try and attack her or not. But 8699, despite retching like it was trying to heave it’s organs through its mouth, grabbed her wrist and held her with a strength she couldn’t get out of. At that moment, her entire life flashed before her eyes. It was like every mistake she had ever made fit into one jigsaw puzzle, and she understood that she was going to die here with this SCP she underestimated. But, instead of attacking her, 8699 just produced this group of 6 polished gems and shoved them into her hand before letting go, and Ángie just fell to the ground.

She was in such a state of shock that it wasn’t until the security team put her into a quarantine that she understood what the fuck had even happened. Shortly after that, this apparent attack 8699 entered inactivity for the final time and never returned to an animated state.

Prompt: What is your character’s opinion on the armed guards buzzing around the facility? Are they intimidated by them? Do they enjoy them? Know them by name? Or do they pity them?

Regarding the guards, Ángela has divided emotions. On the one hand, she fears their guns but pities them as people. They’re often so young and unequipped to deal with these situations, promised this exciting, lucrative career, only to be treated as d-class with guns.

She, in equal measures, wants to hug them and tell them to run for the hills and mutter under their breath about their foolishness. But this is more so directed at what she sees in them that reminds her of her. In practice, she’s kind and a bit maternal to many of them - popping her head into the guard breakroom at the beginning of her shifts to say hi, before scampering off to do her thing and always remembering their names and birthdays.

EXCEPT in the case of the guards assigned to her. Those guys, good lord, she hates those guys. They always respond to her breach in progress alarms like five minutes late, they make scathing comments and insults, they think she can’t hear when she works late, take smoke breaks every ten minutes, even though she knows neither smoke. She loathes them, but she would never give them the satisfaction of knowing that, no, she chooses to kill them with kindness as ineffective as that is! 

Prompt: What’re your character’s opinions on anomalies? Most notably sentient, however can apply to all. Broad, but here’s something’s to detail: - Are they evil? Are they “out to get us”? - Should they be contained, or let free, or neutralised? Where’s the line between “possible staff”, “must be contained”, and “must be neutralised”? - Should they have the same rights as standard humans? - What’re their opinions on free-roaming passive SCPs, or anomalous personnel? - Where did they come from? Was it a “someone” or “something” that created them all? Do they simply just exist? - Do they believe any SCP-001 proposals? If they do, which? If they don’t, why not?

-Ángela subscribes to the Gears school of thought regarding anomalies, their nature and their inherent maliciousness. In that, she doesn’t believe they’re a part of some ‘conspiracy’ against humanity, some pawn in an unfathomable being’s game of chess, etc. Ángela is of the opinion that they simply are. In the same way, animals simply are. They exist because they exist, and their nature is what it is. 

She doesn’t believe that anomalies can choose to be the way they are and feels that expecting them to be different and conform to a human morality, behaviour, or culture is a waste of time applying human morality, behaviour, and culture to them. 

- Ángela feels they (the anomalies) should be contained for both the safety of humanity AND the anomaly themselves in equal measure. See, the world is harsh, and humanity can be cruel, and while many anomalies can defend themselves against this fact of life, or at least blend in well enough with civilization to go unnoticed. Many can’t and need the protection, stability, steady supply of sustenance, etc. The facilities provide them. 

Regarding the lines of neutralization, containment and staff treatment- it’s hard to say generally, as Ángie feels it should be handled on a case by case basis, which factors in all perspectives about the situation. From risk vs reward, the financial aspect, the human cost, the opinions and desires of the anomaly in question and whether or not it would cause undue suffering in the anomaly.

By and large, though, she thinks a lot more sentient, low-security risk anomalies (i.e. 073) should be given the option to seek a profession within the foundation and be allowed to strive for a semi-normal life with privileges such as forming relationships, having friendships, hanging out, taking sick/lazy days, etc. Because, while they are objects, they’re also people - and their anomaly shouldn’t invalidate their personhood. At least, not as far as she’s concerned.

- This is another case-by-case type of question. For humanoid and or sentient SCPs that have proven themselves to be the most baseline, minimal threat in Foundation Security and Staff safety - then yes. She feels they should be given civil liberties and human rights like any other person in the foundation. For anything beyond that, though? Hard pass. Though they should still be acknowledged as people, they should not be handed rights and liberties - ESPECIALLY In the case of entities that have proven themselves to be manipulative, repeat breachers, violent, etc. It’s playing with fire and, while certainly morally questionable, is a necessary evil. 

- Ángela honestly doesn’t care that much. In some cases, it can take her back a bit (like coming into contact with a humanoid pigeon that is at least a head taller than her), but she’ll get used to it. This all being said, though, there are some free-range SCP’s Ángela can’t help but feel nervous in the presence of. She tries to bite back the feeling and deny its existence, but it does exist. Have faith that it does. 

- In short, yes. To elaborate, though, Ángela believes every anomaly is made by something. Though whether that thing is another entity, nature itself, the universe, a paradox, rip in space-time, etc. Is all a matter of debate and a case by case basis. 

- Ángela has an SCP-001 proposal of her own, and I’ll leave it at that! Haha

[yangyeet]

Is This Heaven (pt. 2)

Pairing: Jaemin x Reader (ft. friends!Jisung & Donghyuck)

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Status: Finished. Preview Here! Part 1 Here! Part 3 Here!

Prompt: In a world where people have their soulmate’s name on their body somewhere, you find yourself caught in a dilemma that would result in a whirlwind of events. Are you ready to face this challenge in a world known to be cruel? Will you find your heaven in a place where people refuse to follow their hearts? Or will you fall as a victim to the legend?

Word Count: 3.4K

There was no use. No matter how much you tried, how much you strained your voice, there was no one to hear you. You were alone in your cell - screaming, shouting, shaking - but there wasn’t a soul who could console your cries. 

You fought hard against the metal shackles binding your legs, but there was no sign of the chain loosening. Feeling hopeless, you gave up on freeing your feet and chose to focus on your hands. Thankfully, they had only wrapped your hands with an annoying itchy rope. It was a nuisance, but it seemed pretty useless in terms of functionality. Thinking about ways you could free yourself, you tried to rub your hands against each other. That only resulted in small scratches on your wrist. 

Suddenly, you remembered the ring on your finger that Jaemin had given you not too long ago. He had instructed for you to use it when you found yourself in a sticky situation. Initially at that time, you weren’t really sure what he had meant and assumed it was his quirky way of presenting you a promise ring. Now, you were more than grateful that he had the hindsight. 

Swirling your hand, you flipped the mini ring and revealed a blade that was easily concealed in the metal. You cut through the ropes in a few seconds. Hissing at the slight sting and redness the rope left behind, you massaged your hands to ease the pain. Finally having some freedom in your limbs, you stretched and groaned, remembering how you got into this mess in the first place. 

“Baby, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Jaemin.”

It took you a couple of seconds to realize that the boy was speaking to you. You were fixated on the arm wrapped around his waist, splattered with little specks of red. “You’re bleeding,” was all you could muster yourself to let out in response. 

“Oh this? It’s nothing,” he dismissed, continuing to smile brightly as if the injury was nothing and the three of you were hanging out leisurely. 

Haechan walked in at that moment. “Little?”  He was practically seething, but he chose not to burst out in fear of frightening you more than you already were. Jaemin gave him a side glance, signaling him to drop the subject. 

There was no doubt that you were curious at the exchange, but you knew when to drop the subject. Instead, you chose to focus on your friend dipping a cloth into alcohol and gesturing for the wounded boy to take his shirt off. 

You decided to give a helping hand and set down a dry towel to soak up the small puddles Haechan had made while bringing over the antiseptic. Jaemin threw his shirt to the laundry basket on the other side of the room and earned an offended hey from Haechan. 

Although you really didn’t mean to peek at him, you couldn’t help yourself. His body was well defined. Hard, lean muscles decorated his body, showing you that he clearly worked out vigorously in his free time. His chest was shuddering up and down, straining from the pain he was experiencing. There was a small gash in his abdomen, not deep enough to cause alarm, but enough for him to bleed out if you two didn’t help him out. Luckily, there was no apparent internal injury. You unintentionally let out a sigh of relief, not even realizing that you had been holding your breath while ogling at the boy.

“It isn’t polite to stare, you know,” Jaemin joked. “If you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

“Okay, Romeo. Hold your breath,” Haechan interrupted, annoyed at the interaction. He took the towel and began wiping delicately at the skin. “(Y/n), bring the bowl over here, can you clean his back? I got another towel?”

You nodded and cautiously walked over to the pink-haired boy who was eyeing you intensely. Grabbing the towel that was lying on the table, you dipped the cloth in the alcohol before wringing out the excess liquid. This was honestly the first time you had tended to an injury like this, but you did know how to clean a wound from your basic first aid classes. You found a small space that was just enough for you to squeeze in and slide behind him. Chuckling at the odd situation, you honestly thought the situation you found yourself in wasn’t too bad. 

His back had slight scratches on it, but thankfully, it was nothing like the wound on the other side. However, you realized something strange. Jaemin didn’t have any marks on him. He was wearing shorts in the cold for some odd reason and sneakers, but the rest of his body was bare. You still found nothing - no sign of a soulmate tattoo that would indicate anything. The only thing you could see was a scar on his left shoulder blade. That wasn’t indicative of anything as far as you knew. 

Shaking your head at the random thought, you moved back to concentrate on cleaning his back until Jaemin let out a hiss. Immediately thinking that you pressed too hard, you pulled back to apologize. “Oh sorry, did I hurt you?” 

“No, it was Haechan. Your hands feel nice princess. Keep rubbing.”

You felt blood rush to your cheeks and slapped him lightly on the back. Haechan, on the other hand, was glaring so hard at Jaemin that his eyes were practically bulging out.. 

“That scar...how long have you had it?” Haechan asked him suspiciously. Jaemin shuddered before looking down at the carpet. 

“Not too long,” he answered. “It’s nothing.” 

Haechan ignored his brief answer and proceeded to interrogate him. “How many leads?” He questioned. 

“None,” Jaemin replied. “It was smooth.” 

You tapped Jaemin’s shoulders and he hummed. “I’m not gonna force you guys to tell me anything. But why?” You had so many questions swirling through your mind at this point, so you just blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. Why was he bleeding? Why couldn’t he, or Haechan and Jisung for that matter, tell you what was going on? Why was he so mysterious? There just weren’t enough ways for you to express what you were thrown into.

The boy looked down for a second before turning back to you. “Do you really want to know?” You nodded in response. He turned back around and looked at Haechan, as if asking for permission. The boy simply shook his head, signaling a no. Jaemin just shrugged and let out a big sigh. 

“He says no. I’ll let you know after a couple of dates.” He let out a wink.  

“I think not.” The boy who was doing his work chimed in, expertly finishing up with the towel and setting it down as he grabbed the antibiotic cream. “Hit on my friend, and I’ll make sure I’m the last person you see,” he threatened. Haechan was getting defensive at this point and you were frustrated. 

“I’m grown enough to make my own decisions,” you snapped back. 

“You don’t know him,” he shouted back. 

“And you do?” 

“Wait, stop it,” Jaemin intervened, looking between the two of you. “Haechan, the gauze.” The boy sighed loudly and proceeded with the final details, pressing down hard on purpose. The boy flinched and you glared at Haechan. 

“Fine. If you want to know so bad, Jaemin, why don’t you tell her now? Let her know what she just got involved in? She already helped clean up your mess. Tell her.” 

You perked your ears. What mess? Were they finally about to reveal their secret? You were practically itching to know what was going on. Were you being nosy? Yes. Curious? Also yes. Curiosity killed the cat, that was true, but satisfaction would always bring her back. 

The injured boy turned to you. “Anything we say stays between us. Alright? Although I trust you, sweetheart...gotta tell you.” You hummed and leaned comfortably next to him as you watched Haechan wrap the gauze. 

“So basically, we’re not the good guys you’d expect.” 

You nodded at the obvious. “Well, that’s pretty apparent. What do you guys do though?”

“Well...we’re a part of a gang.” He took a deep breath. “Haechannie here...he’s the gun and drug supplier. I’m the sweet face. The guy who talks to everyone and gets those deals, gets the girls at the club, drives over the speed limit on a high speed cop chase. Of course, I'm careful so the last part never happens.” 

Glancing at the boy in front of you, you had no doubt that of his position. Charming was practically his middle name and his godlike visuals were his poison. You weren’t surprised at all that he was the face of the operations. You nodded, letting him know that you were listening. 

“Jisungie, who’ll forever be our baby by the way-” Jaemin earned a groan from Haechan, “-he’s a hacker who does the cybercrime. Hacks CCTVs, intercepts enemy signals, the cool stuff.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Baby...Jisung? Hacker? What?” Both boys chuckled at your shock. 

“So you aren’t surprised I supply illegal materials?” Haechan asked, finding the situation so ironic. His job seemed so much more dangerous than the younger’s.

“No, I just always thought he had the 10 monitors for video games.” It would take time for you to process the latter. Jisung had kept such a huge secret from you regardless of that fact that you went over to his place practically every week. You were skirting on the edge of something much more dangerous than you had expected for a long time and this was exciting. It gave you a rush, knowing the guys who you thought were innocent, were actually a part of something much bigger. It was a change from the mundane lives they’d presented in the public eye.

“Anything else I should know?” You asked.

“Uh, I just got wounded from a busted deal. They hid a mole. Now, I’m here. Didn’t leave a trail though, so it should be okay for a while,” Jaemin responded. “Just don’t know where I should go tonight. My place isn’t safe now.” 

“You can’t stay here tonight. They might know you’re here. You have to go somewhere else,” Haechan stated with finality, crossing his arms. 

Jaemin huffed and pulled his phone out. A throwaway phone, you noted. “Jisungie has his girl over and Jeno and Injun are having their annual boys date. Can’t crash that. I’m stuck.” He was frustrated, despite his calm demeanor. 

You walked up to his sitting form on the sofa, grabbing his attention. “You’re not stuck. My place is open?” Of course, you had an alternative motive to this, but you wouldn’t reveal it that quickly.

Jaemin turned to you, flabbergasted that you would offer. “No, I-I can’t.” He turned to look at Haechan, who looked split. 

“As much as I hate you, (Y/n) is the only option right now.” Your mouth almost opened, surprised at how easily he accepted your proposal even though he was adamant about not letting the two of you associate a few moments ago. “I gave her your socials too and she’s friends with Jisung.”

The boy nodded and looked at you for confirmation that you were serious. “I am,” you responded, firmly putting your foot on the ground. You didn’t know if you would regret this decision, but you would be damned if you didn’t try. 

Jaemin seemed to like your response and got up, wincing and limping slightly as he walked towards the door. “Let’s leave now then. Haechannie, clean up well! Give my shirt back tomorrow.”

You followed him and hugged Haechan. He gave you a chaste kiss on your forehead and pulled you a little closer. “If he does anything suspicious, ring me.” You nodded at his protectiveness and jogged to the waiting boy. 

“Did he give you a warning,” he joked. 

“Yeah. He’ll kick your ass if you try something,” you responded nonchalantly. “Also, my house isn’t too far from here. Is it okay if we walk?” 

“Well, I clearly have an injury, but we don’t have other options, do we? If we walk in the shadows, it’ll be fine.” The two of you slowly walked under the dim light of the moon, attempting to hide in the shadows of the apartment buildings that loomed above. You felt a hand touch yours and looked down to see Jaemin lacing his fingers with yours. It felt nice. His soft hands provided warmth and reassurance, kind of like a spark. A spark that had been described to you many times in the past, but one that you never thought you’d feel. A soulmate spark. Jaemin was beaming at you, not showing any signs of him reciprocating the feeling. If he hadn’t felt that spark, you would know that fate was playing with you. That wasn’t be a good sign. 

It didn’t take long for you both to reach your place and you both safely entered after looking behind you guys several times. You didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary or someone trying to follow you, so you turned the lights on in the living room. “Make yourself at home,” you commented. 

“Did you have dinner?” He asked, as if the two of you were friendly roommates. You quirked an eyebrow at his casual behavior. 

“Yeah, ramen. You?” 

“A knife. For you.” Well that was cheesy. And weird. 

“There’s a guest room, Romeo. Sleep there. It’s the first door on the right. Bathroom to the left. If you want to watch TV, I have a Netflix account that I stole from a friend.” He took an interest in your mini house tour and occasionally gazed from the direction your hands would gesture to your face, noting the way that you scrunch your nose whenever you tried to remember where exactly all your rooms were located.  

“Cool. Netflix?” He asked, when you were finished with your extensive explanations. 

“That’s all you got from what I said? Should I make popcorn?” You laughed before offering the snack. He nodded enthusiastically, jumping on your sofa and grabbing the remote. 

“Gotta find a good show,” he responded when he was you judging him for acting childishly. It didn’t take long for you to pop a bag out of the cabinet and insert it into the microwave, giving you a minute to relax. The first thing you noticed was the way that his arms flexed as he melted into the sofa and let out a groan. He looked stressed and on edge, but was acting calm around you. With the lighting in your living room, you could clearly see that he didn’t have a soulmate mark for sure. 

“What’s on your mind, princess?” He asked. 

You choked at the nickname. “Nothing, baby. It isn’t an everyday thing to find out your friends are part of a gang,” you replied. He hummed. 

“Fair enough.” The smell of fresh popcorn permeated through the air and you took out the bag, momentarily forgetting it was hot and burning your hand. “You good?” 

“Yeah.” Taking a kitchen towel, you carefully opened the bag this time and poured the contents out into the bowl. 

“Smells so good,” he commented. Jaemin took the bowl from your hand and placed it in his lap as you glared at him. Feeling a little salty, you plopped down right next to him and scooped up a handful of popcorn. 

Looking at the TV screen, you almost snorted at the cheesy movie he put on. “Really? Dirty Dancing? You really are a Casanova, aren’t you?”

He smiled widely and ruffled your hair. “To be fair, the boys did warn you.” All you could do was roll your eyes in response and face the rolling movie. The plot wasn’t too bad and you found yourself being drawn into the fascinating world. You hadn’t noticed that the bowl of popcorn had moved to the middle, almost empty. Wanting some more popcorn, you absentmindedly moved your hand towards the assumed position of the bowl, but you were met with a warm thigh instead. Widening your eyes, you pulled back immediately. 

Jaemin chuckled and reached for your hand, dragging it back to the prior position. “Didn’t know you were that whipped for me. Should’ve just mentioned it.” 

You gulped nervously and licked your lips. This was moving way too fast. Time of my life was playing in the background, providing ambient music to your ironic situation. Jaemin gazed from your eyes to your lips and leaned forward and you found yourself closing that gap. 

It was the classic kiss that everyone would describe. Soft, plush lips moving against your own, lightly at first in hesitation and then diving in. It felt amazing, as if a part of you had been completed. If you could fly, you probably would’ve soared to the heavens at this point. The hand that wasn’t holding yours came up to tilt your jaw and you felt yourself softening into his touch.

That is, until you realized something. This feeling was the exact feeling that Jisung had described to you years ago. What you were feeling was love. Intense love that could only be associated with a soulmate, which you clearly did not have. 

Jaemin pulled back when you stopped kissing him back. “Did I do something wrong, princess?” He asked, backing off and giving you space. His eyes held a fearful look as if he had committed a crime by touching you.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not you. It’s just...d-do you have a mark?” 

He looked back down to his scarred arm. “No. No I don’t. I don’t believe in that stuff anyway.” Jaemin was being defensive about something, but you couldn’t discern what. 

“But the stories…” 

“Who cares? If you like someone, why should you have fate tell you what to do?” His dark brown eyes peered into yours as the credits rolled in the background. 

“We’ll get hurt. I don’t want us to end before we even begin,” you commented, getting up and turning on your heel to put the discarded bowl in the sink. “Now, I suggest we get some sleep.” 

Awkward tension loomed in the air and Jaemin found himself listening to you, immediately going to the guest bedroom. Silence ensued.

 You finished cleaning up and got ready for bed, feeling the weight of the day settling down. It had been a hectic day for you, but you finally found someone to give you some spice in your life. Jaemin didn’t seem ordinary and you were sure life would be a lot more interesting with him around. You had no idea how true that statement would become.

That night, you had the most vivid dream in a while. There was a red string leading you to a person. As you moved closer in the direction of the individual, you could see more details appearing. Pink hair adorned the person who was hunched over, sitting on a pedestal. There was a dragon adorning the beautiful, shining seat that was practically begging for you to approach. You called out to the figure, but he wouldn’t turn around. 

Reaching your hand out, you grasped the familiar boy’s shoulder and saw the rope on your hand flickering intermittently. Unexpectedly, a sudden whirl whizzed grazed past your ears and broke the delicate rope, causing you to enter a freefall in the dark. There was the sound of a gunshot. Then you woke up.

You noticed that you were sweating from the intense feeling and saw that you were not falling, but safely wrapped in your bed. In your sleep, you hadn’t noticed that Jaemin creeped into your room and laid beside you, snoring gently. Your bed was big enough that he wasn’t cuddling you, but you were still in shock from your dream. 

The innocent boy stirred in his dream and then gasped sharply, sitting upright. He frantically waved his arms before noticing that he was in your bed. “I-sorry, did I wake you up?” His voice was dusted with traces of sleep and panic. 

“No. You good?” 

“Thought I was falling. Red string…”

Your eyes widened. The two of you had the same dream. As you explained to him about your revelation, he tilted his head back and let out a sad chuckle. 

“I didn’t think it’d be like this.” 

You looked at him. “Um, fill me in. What do you mean?”

“Do you...do you perhaps know what The Dragon is?”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Master Mind”

Summary: Elliot gets fired and Y/N blames herself. She begs a part of Elliot for help as she is faced with the reality of the lengths Mr. Robot will go to in order to protect Elliot. 

A/N: The final chapter picks up right after this chapter : )

Decryption_Error: All Chapters

Word Count: 6022

One week and four days.

That’s how close we came to our one-year anniversary.

As it turned out, we actually did spend Memorial Day weekend together, but instead of being cozied up while basking in the success of our love, I had watched as Elliot was escorted out of my parents’ house in handcuffs.  

I had always considered myself to be an intelligent, well-rounded person who practiced introspection enough to identify and work on accepting my shortcomings. I could be quite critical of myself at times, but when I had gone through counseling, my therapist helped me understand that people judge themselves through an almost cruel critical lens: once I could accept I was my own harshest critic, I could move forward instead of getting sucked back into a cycle of persecution.

Elliot and I had often talked about self-persecution, but I now understood that it wasn’t just his voice that criticized him. He literally had other selves within that were passing judgement and carrying out their own agendas.

And one of those selves was about to end my relationship with Elliot, all thanks to one of my shortcomings.

Another thing I considered myself to be was more than just my father’s daughter; I had worked all through my 20s to become an individual, to become someone more than just a last name. Nepotism was normal in my world, but something about it always sat uneasy with me. Hemingway wrote about that feeling; he said immorality was anything that “made you disgusted afterwards.”

The more advantages I saw being dished out to people like myself from parents with means made me think about Hemingway’s definition of immorality. I didn’t want to walk through life with a stomach full of disgust, so I set goals with the intent of making a good life for myself and helping those I could.

My father encouraged his children to live with integrity, to practice selflessness, and most importantly, he taught us to be hungry. He encouraged us to fight against complacency because he remembered what it was to be hungry; he remembered what it was to want something, to work for it, and he remembered how meaningful it was to find a purpose.

I knew that was why Kathleen became a doctor. I knew that was why Erin became a lawyer. And I knew that was why Charlie became a teacher.

And I knew that was why I worked at a cybersecurity firm, a business that had the sole intent of providing protection. I had my purpose.  

But in that way of upbringing, my father inadvertently bred naivety. I thought more people were like us, especially those of us with financial excess. I knew about nepotism, about greed, about entitlement, but I didn’t really understand those things until Elliot was fired from CIStech.

Ali Olayan.

He was not like me. He was not like my family.

I had read Corey as the greatest threat to Elliot’s well-being, but I had read wrong.

Beneath Ali’s nonchalant exterior lived the kind of antagonist I had thought only existed in the movies; Ali lived and breathed his privilege, believing that he could craft whatever narrative he wanted for any person he chose. This was Ali’s world, and we were all just living in it.

Ali was never taught to know hunger, never taught to be selfless or encouraged to become something other than what he was. In his mind, he was already something.

It was entirely too late when I finally figured out that the resolution of the incident in the server room sat inside of Ali’s mind like a tick. And the more he thought, the bigger that parasite grew, the more unsettled Ali became that a nobody like Elliot Alderson had caused a disruption in his worldview.

To Ali, it had been a joke, not unlike one his own friends may have inflicted on countless of their schoolmates. Ali knew things like that were a joke because he had never been punished. And if there had never been a consequence for his actions, then he had never been wrong.

Until I told him he was wrong.

Until I gave him a consequence.

I had assumed that because Ali’s family was strict and that because Ali was respectful during his discipline hearing that he understood right and wrong. Instead, being reprimanded attacked his ego by opening up his mind to a barrage of things he had never cared to think about before, including morality.

The tick fattened inside of him, fostering Ali’s need for revenge.

* * * * *

Pursing my lips as I proofread my email one more time, I threw a nasty glance at my phone as it interrupted me.

By the third ring, I couldn’t ignore the compulsion to answer it, so I abandoned my email and picked up the phone.

“Yes?” I said, not bothering to glance at the ID as I saved my email as a draft.

“You need to get down here.”

“JaLeah? What is it?”

“Now, Y/N! Get down here now,” she pleaded.

“I’m on my way,” I said as I stood and hung up the phone, my mind working to process the bizarre demand of a woman I had never known to be frazzled by anything. Even the hacks hadn’t gotten her to break her calm.

“Hold my calls and cancel my 4:00,” I said with a single breath as I rushed past my secretary’s desk and to the elevator. My heel caught in the gap, and I almost stumbled face first into the glass. As I pushed for CIStech’s floor, I realized my fingers were shaking.

Elliot.

No. He would’ve at least texted me if something was up. This can’t be about him.

It’s not about him.

I tried to logic out my anxiety, reminding myself that if I let those thoughts rush forward, I wouldn’t be able to think critically.

The office collectively turned to watch my arrival, and I didn’t need time to wonder why. I could hear the muffled shouting coming from within Tim’s office.  

“Don’t,” I commanded Jayne as she reached for the intercom to announce my arrival.

Jayne sank back in her chair, her hand still hovering over the intercom as I pushed into what used to be my office—the one where I interviewed Elliot with Colin and JaLeah, where Colin, goddamn him, said that getting too close to Elliot Alderson probably never ended well for anyone.

Even as he stood with his back to the door, I could feel Elliot’s anger the second I walked in. Dread danced down my spine as I took a deep breath and wondered if this was the same Elliot-yet-not-Elliot I had met a month ago.

Tim looked up from his position at the table, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at me then back to his irate employee. Next to Tim sat Ali, with a smug look of satisfaction on his face.  

“You—are firing me?” Elliot raged, and just by the tone of his voice, I knew my instinct was right; this wasn’t him.

“What’s going on?” I interrupted, causing this version of Elliot to whirl around and Ali’s smugness to turn from quietly distasteful to outrightly repulsive.

As not-Elliot looked at me, I was shocked at how the anger seemed to morph his features. His jaw was tight its angularity more pronounced; his mouth was much smaller as his lips were pressed against his teeth; his eyes were big and unnerving, but the thing that nearly made me falter was that this Elliot seemed to take up so much more space. It was intimidating.

I had thought I was afraid of the side of Elliot who protected him, but I was even more afraid to realize how little I knew about this side of him.

“You can’t save him this time,” Ali said, drawing both my attention and not-Elliot’s again as his tone reflected that repulsive smirk I wanted to knock off his face.

To Ali Olayan, this was a game of revenge.

“Tim—explain.”

“Don’t listen to them,” not-Elliot growled out, his lips barely moving as I brushed past him to take the open seat on the other side of Tim.

“Sit down,” I bit back, our eyes locking for a moment before he dropped his gaze. Not-Elliot yanked out the chair and sat, a huff of breath escaping when he crossed his arms, his anger occupying a fifth seat at the table.

“Last week, Ali suggested I take a look at the data on the employee performances he ran,” Tim began. “And the results were concerning—"

“Fucking bullshit,” not-Elliot muttered, as he sullenly slumped in his chair like a teenager being disciplined.

I ignored his comment and told Tim to continue.

“The results were concerning because Alderson’s performance didn’t exactly decline so much as nosedive. It made me wonder how someone could go from 100 to 10 in the course of a few weeks.”

“Perhaps a mitigating personal circumstance, Tim. Did you consider that?” I said, trying to both avoid and use the lie about Elliot’s mother.

Tim angled his laptop toward me and clicked on the open tab beside the performance eval.

“Whatever Mr. Alderson has been doing at work, hasn’t been our work.”

Elliot moved quickly, uncrossing his arms and reaching out to slam the lid of Tim’s laptop shut.

“Your work? Your work?! This is just the sort of shit that some data jockey would pull out of their fucking asshole,” not-Elliot said, his speech slurred with irritation as he jerked back and stood, his chair wobbling from the force of his movement.

“And that’s not even the worst part of coming in to this fuckhole every day. No. It’s seeing people like you in positions of power,” he said as he whirled on Ali.

“You reek of nepotism, of never having to work for any fucking thing in your life. A script kiddie! You’ve never written an exploit from scratch in your fucking life. Relying on pulling code from Metasploit or some shit. And what’s the real fuckall of it is that you can’t code and yet you are sitting here, shitting on me, because of something YOU did! I didn’t lock myself in that server room. I didn’t think it was a fucking joke and neither did anyone but you and the other self-centered cunts you call your friends. So fuck you!”

The one who raged for Elliot stopped then, teeth bared, chest rising and falling as his hands ran once, twice through his hair before they dropped to his sides, his fingers flexing before balling into fists.  

I didn’t take my eyes off of not-Elliot as I asked, “And no one thought to ask for my input? In case you forgot, I am the General Manager and am in charge of CIStech—not either of you.”

I pulled my eyes away from not-Elliot’s and looked at Ali and at Tim. Ali had lost his smirk and Tim’s hairline was beaded with sweat.

“Well?” I prompted, my own voice rising.

“The--the data doesn’t lie,” Tim finally said quietly. “Mr. Alderson has been using company time to execute his own projects. It’s outlined as one of the most clear grounds for dismissal in the contract every employee signs when they’re hired.”

“I’m aware,” I said with a sigh, knowing he was right. If Elliot, or whoever he was, actually was using company time to work on another project, there was nothing I could do to protect him.

“What have you been working on, Elliot?”

Elliot was so angry that he actually shivered as he turned to me, his body going absolutely rigid.

I waited.

And he silently seethed.

I stood up, not-Elliot’s eyes watching my movement, not my face. I got as close to him as I dared, but when I reached out, my fingertips barely ghosting the cuff of his shirt, he snapped.

“Fuck you,” he growled out, closing the distance between us so he was inches from my face. When our eyes met, the rage that burned in this Elliot’s eyes broke something deep inside of me. “You’ve always just been one of them.”

And with those words, that broken thing shattered.

Not-Elliot ripped off his ID badge and tossed it onto the table. He didn’t look back as he yanked open Tim’s door, the doorknob slamming into the wall. I watched as muted grey chunks of painted plaster fell onto the floor.

I wanted to run after him.

I wanted to beg not-Elliot to let go of his anger.

I wanted to tell him, all of him, that I still loved him.

But I couldn’t.

I had to set the tone for the company.

I had to swallow the acid that burned in my throat as I looked at Ali.

Ali.

I tilted my chin up as I walked forward and calmly shut the door to Tim’s office.

“You targeted him,” I said slowly and clearly without turning around.  

“That’s a wild accusation, Ms. Y/L/N,” Ali replied, not bothering to hide the triumph in his voice.

“You targeted him,” I repeated as I coolly turned on my heel and walked back to the table. “You orchestrated this.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know Alderson would lose his mind—”

“Show me the data on the rest of the white hats.”

“What?” Ali asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Show me the exact same reports and their time stamps for all of the white hats on your team.”

The palpable rage that had lingered in the room morphed into an uncomfortable, equally palpable silence as Tim and I both waited for Ali to answer.

“Ali,” Tim prompted.

We waited again, the silence condemning Ali’s actions as it dug his grave.

“That’s what I thought,” I said in a low, dangerous tone. “I don’t give a damn who your parents are. You’re fired.”

“You can’t—”

“Watch me.”

I turned from their eyes and walked out of Tim’s office, my chin still raised as I stared directly ahead and made my way up to HR.

Not exactly the office to take kindly to intrusions, I did finally relax my posture into a more humble stance as I approached Alison Shaye.

She and I had been through quite a lot thanks to the hack on Colin and with one look at my face, she ushered me in and shut the door.

After two hours, thirteen phone calls, a visit from Miles and from three members of the board, CIStech officially ended its relationship with Ali Olayan.

I shook Alison’s hand, then made my way back to Tim’s office, the stragglers who hadn’t left at 5:00 taking a wide berth to avoid me as they finally cleared out for the evening.

“Ali will need replaced, effective Monday. I think it’s time to switch JaLeah from application security to network security so she can oversee the white hats.”

Tim’s eyes were unwilling to meet mine as I talked; he nodded and made a note, finally finding his voice as I reached the door to his office.

“I—I had no idea he was going to … that he would’ve reacted like—”

“You could’ve told me,” I said without turning around.

“Ali convinced me you’d only go over my head to make it all disappear. I … wanted to be fair. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

I raised my head and looked up at the ceiling, completely drained. I turned to face Tim, knowing my face reflected the defeat I felt.

“I’m not sure when I lost my reputation of being a person of integrity. Maybe it was when I started dating my employee. Maybe I never really had it to begin with because Dad’s face is hanging in the lobby. Whoever I thought I was, I’m clearly not. If my SM was unable or unwilling to come to me, I failed. It’s not your fault, Tim. It’s mine.”

I bit my lip as I stepped into the empty elevator, redirecting the pain in my heart so I wouldn’t start crying.

When I finally reached my desk, I picked up my phone and stared at it.

There was no point in calling Elliot because he wasn’t Elliot right now.

Darlene.

I was numb when I pushed her name, almost forgetting to raise the phone to my ear as I walked over to the window in my office, the sky slightly overcast as yet another late spring sky played the will I or won’t I rain game. It felt like an eternity had passed since I had met with Miles in his office and looked out of his near-top floor view and wondered what it would be like to leave this world, to leave Wall Street and to never look back.

“Helloooo?” Darlene’s voice trilled with its characteristic hint of annoyance at being disturbed even though she probably wasn’t doing much of anything.

“Hey, Dar. It’s Y/N.”

“Um, duh,” she said slowly, a slight trill of laughter accompanying her words.

I wanted to laugh with her at my own obviousness, but there was nothing left inside of me except the dead weight of dismay.

“Elliot got fired today.”

Silence—how much tense silence could a person endure in one day?

“You fired him?” Darlene finally said, her voice full of trepidation.

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“What the fuck?!”

“Elliot’s been … multitasking. His job performance over the last two months has tanked, and whatever he’s been doing for the last month hasn’t been what we’ve been paying him to do.”

I waited.  

“I’m sorry, Darlene. This was out of my hands.”

“You know what, fuck you,” she said, her tone shifting from concern for her brother to anger at me. “You pushed him because YOU wanted him to be normal. You wanted him to fit into your fucking high-class, black tie, ‘I’m having a social because I’m so rich and so fucking bored’ lifestyle. Elliot never wanted to be a part of that. You knew it and you pushed him into it.”

I listened as Darlene ranted. I owed her that. I owed Elliot that.

All of this was my fault.

“What? Nothing to say because you can’t talk your way through this one with your cool, calm, logic prevails because I’m rich and never have had to worry about any goddamn thing in my life bullshit?”

“I’m sorry. I know this is my fault, and I know I can never understand what the two of you have been through but I do love him,” I paused. “And you too, Darlene.”

“I need to talk to Elliot,” she mumbled as she hung up.  

I wiped at the tear that had escaped and was leaking down the side of my nose. I had too much to do to cry now, and I’d be damned if I was going to break down in my office.

Before gathering up my tote, I checked my email to make sure Ali was officially let go. I made a few notes for Monday as I continued to fight back tears, and when I clicked the lights off in my office, it felt like I had also turned off something within myself, something that was not going to be as easy as flicking a switch to turn back on.

I stopped at my apartment to change into sneakers, jeans, and an oversized sweater. Despite it being late May, the overcast weather made it chilly and I didn’t know how late I would be out. I threw my wallet, my keys, and my phone into my mini-backpack.

I checked my phone during the train ride and frowned as I saw a missed call from my dad. One thing that you could always count on in the cooperate world was that gossip traveled faster than the speed of light.

A part of me had filled with the ridiculous hope that Elliot would be at his place, waiting for me, but when I opened the door and stopped in the entry to listen for any sound to indicate he was there, I was struck by a resounding quiet … until I heard a series of quick sniffles.

I stepped far enough into Elliot’s to see Darlene sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing at the traces of tears on her face.

“It’s not him,” she said, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

“I know. Where did he go?”

She looked up at me, her eyes wide and teary, her anxiety as palpable now as her brother’s rage was a few hours ago.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said reaching for her backpack that had been flung beside the bed. She scrambled to her feet and started stuffing some of Elliot’s clothes into her bag along with a few things from his bookshelf, including a few old polaroids.

“Don’t give up on him,” I pleaded, repeating what she’d more than once asked of me.  

Darlene let out a frustrated growl as she flung off the papers, books, and CDs that had been sitting on the edge of Elliot’s bookshelf. They crashed to the ground and she brought her boot down on them in a stomp.

“I’m done, Y/N! I’m not his fucking keeper. I’m not going to sit here and watch him fuck his stupid life up again!”

The mess on Elliot’s floor crunched as she walked over to reach high up into his closet; she pulled down a worn game of Sorry! and wrenched off the lid, exposing a wad of cash. She took a little over half of it, then put the box back.

“I’m doing what he told me to do and getting the fuck out of his life.”

“You’re the one who told me it wasn’t him. You told me not to listen to him when he’s like this!”

“I was wrong.”

“Darlene,” I said, grabbing her upper arms and forcing her to stop moving. “I know what’s wrong with him. He has—"

“I know, Y/N! And I know something happened to him but I can’t help him because he won’t tell me what it was. I can’t fix it. YOU can’t fix it. No one can fucking fix it!”

Darlene brushed past me as my mouth fell open. I always suspected she knew more than she ever said out loud, but maybe that was what kept her sane. Elliot’s truth wasn’t something Darlene was ready to face.

“Where are you going?” I quietly asked.

“The fuck out of this city,” she murmured before turning around to look at me.

We were standing face to face, both of us with tracks of tears on our faces. I didn’t know what to say to her as she looked at me, so vulnerable and so young.

“I’m s-sorry,” I said, choking on the emotion of my apology.

“I didn’t mean what I said on the phone,” she answered, a fresh tear falling from the corner of her eye.  

“You’re pissed,” I shrugged. “And hurting.”

“You didn’t deserve—”

“It’s okay,” I said with a small smile. “You and I are good. We will always be good. Will you remember that for me? Please?”

Darlene took a deep breath and nodded, her lips quirking into an awkward smile. I moved forward and pulled her into a fierce hug.

“Take care of yourself,” I whispered into her hair as she clung to me.

She nodded again, pulling away and quickly moving to the door. She pulled it open and stepped into the hall, but before Darlene could close the door, I asked, “Is there anywhere he would go?”

“Coney Island,” she said after a long pause. “There … or that museum in Queens, the one with the layout of the city.”

“I remember. Thank you.”

Darlene bit the back half of her bottom lip, looking unnervingly like her brother as she nodded.

“I’ll see you. Soon,” I added with emphasis.

Her eyes flicked to my face as she shut the door, and I was left alone to just stare at the off-white of Elliot’s front door, unable to imagine the pain she carried from having to grow up much too fast.

With a shiver a turned away from the door as a flash of Elliot, looking just as vulnerable as Darlene, flitted through my mind. He had stood right there, and I had crossed the line when I kissed him, pulling him into my life, whether he was ready for it or not.

When I broke my gaze, I turned around to look at Elliot’s computer. I was struck with that same strong pull as I was on the night I had first met the angry version of Elliot. From my research, I knew a person’s psyche developed personalities that had specific jobs to do within their system. I knew who Elliot’s protector was—that was obvious. And now I knew that there was this other, this Elliot, but not Elliot. He was angry and hurting, curious and almost more alive at times than Elliot. He was so raw, almost like he was much newer to the world than his grizzled protector.

I was now certain it was him I had slept with a month ago. My mind was whirring with the idea of going to bed with one person and waking up with another, but again, I had to force myself to focus. None of these questions and feelings would matter if I never saw Elliot again, but maybe I could use my connection with his angry persona to get him back again.

I was struck with a sense of urgency, like the walls were closing in and I knew, knew I had to talk to him.

Instead of stepping back this time, I slid out of Elliot’s chair and sat down. When I turned on the monitor, Elliot was still logged in. I couldn’t believe my good luck, and as I got to work, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe my Elliot wanted me to find him, to bring him back again.

It didn’t take long to triangulate his data transmissions to Coney Island, and again, it felt too easy.

I transferred the location to my phone and hurried to the subway.

I kept watching for Elliot’s location to change, but it really didn’t move for the 45 minutes it took the train to get out to the beach.

Daylight was fading fast and as I walked along the boardwalk, a few of the lamps flickered on. I wove my way through the light foot traffic and kept an eye out for Elliot’s dark hair and the light green dress shirt he had been wearing—

That I saw on his bedroom floor, next to the pile of stuff Darlene had stomped.

I finally spotted him sitting in the sand, the black of his hoodie a perfect contrast to the beige of the beach. His eyes were trained on the water as the wind ruffled his hair. His arms encircled his knees and he was twirling what looked like a small stick of driftwood between his fingers.  

“How did you find me?” he asked without turning to look at me.

I sat down, my body stiff and aching from an exhaustion I was sure to feel for days. I pulled my sweater tight around my body as I felt the cool air from the water drift up along the beach.

“I don’t know what to do this time,” I said, wondering which Elliot I was talking to. I didn’t feel a radiating anger or an icy coolness, but without looking into his eyes, I just wasn’t sure.

“Walk away.”

“I don’t want to walk away. We knew this would be hard—I knew this would be hard. The answer can’t be to just quit.”

“I’m tired, Y/N.”

I waited, watching his face and silently praying he’d turn to look at me so I’d know.

“I’m tired of fighting with …”

“Just say it,” I pressed softly. “Holding back at this point is almost laughable.”

“With him,” he finished, his eyes still staring forward.  

“He hates me,” I stated, thinking that whether it was his protector or the angry one, I couldn’t go wrong since they had both told me to fuck off and Elliot had let it happen. Maybe he really felt those things, too.

I leaned back and let my hands sink into the cool sand as I waited for him to answer.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s scared of you.”

“Scared of me?”

“Of what you might force Elliot to remember.”

So this is still the angry one.

“You really do love him, don’t you?” he questioned, finally turning to look at me.

And as sure as the sun was about to set, I could tell that the person looking at me was not the Elliot I had fallen in love with. I looked into not-Elliot’s eyes for as long as he allowed. They were the same eyes from this afternoon that had told me to fuck off and the same eyes that had burned with longing that night in Elliot’s apartment.

“We’ve met—I mean, before you told me to fuck off today.”

His cheeks colored and he suddenly became very interested in the small piece of driftwood that was still twirling through his fingers.

“Are you serious right now? After the things we did, you’re going to play shy?”

He turned to me, a fraction of a smile on his lips.

“If it helps, I do like you. And I’m sorry for what I said today. I can’t … control myself very well.”

As I watched him twirl that piece of driftwood back and forth through the same fingers as my Elliot, the same fingers that had caressed my face, that had held my hand, that had reached for me in the dark, I felt like I aged a thousand years.

Those fingers now belonged to a stranger.  

When he spoke up, my eyes returned to his face.

“Mr. Robot would rather Elliot focus on Angela. He prefers her because she can’t love him like you do—he thinks she’s safe for him … for us.”

“Mr. Robot is the name of Elliot’s protector?”

“Yes, although he doesn’t like me,” not-Elliot said as he flashed me a crooked grin.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t trust me.”

“Will you tell me who you are?”

His face scrunched up as he thought, his mouth opening, then closing.

“I—I’m not sure. I’ve always just thought of myself as Elliot. Well, as a part of him. This control … it’s new for me.”

I wondered if people who were close to those with DID felt like talking to an alter was surreal. I knew, from the top of my head to the tip of my toes that this was not my Elliot, yet it was him—a part of him he needed.

“All of that uncertainty, the lost time, the conflict … that’s what Elliot has to carry within himself. Isn’t that worse than … what happened to him?”

“He forgets. Or …” Not-Elliot trailed off.

“Or?”

“I think of myself as Elliot, but I’m better than him at a lot of things. It’s always been my job to keep him occupied when Mr. Robot needs to take over, so I create places for him to go.”

“Occupied? So Elliot is … where is he now?”

“He’s in an emergency session with Dr. Horton.”  

“Oh,” I said in a low voice, my chest feeling tight. “All this time … he hasn’t really been going to therapy.”

“In a manner of speaking, he has been. Things have gotten better, haven’t they?”

Not-Elliot’s voice was like a buzz in my ear as my mind sped through the last month and a half.

“He must have hacked someone and gotten those anxiety meds.”

“I did that.”

“You hack, too?” I said, the buzzing in my ears subsiding as I clutched the sand painfully beneath my hands to remind myself that now wasn’t the time to get lost in my thoughts.

“I am the hacker,” Not-Elliot said with a perfect three-point grin, the very same one Elliot made.  

“Don’t do that—please don’t look like him,” I begged as tears formed in my eyes.

He looked away, a deep frown settling in the place of his smile.

“When is Elliot coming back?”

“He can’t come back while you’re here.”

“Why?”

“It confuses him. Creates more work for us.”

“I don’t fucking care!”  

Not-Elliot huffed, a quiet half-laugh that was nearly carried away by the breeze.

“Can you … communicate with him?”

“I don’t have as much control as Mr. Robot. My thoughts … can get mixed up with Elliot’s. That’s how he knew he got fired. Sometimes—”

“What?”

“Sometimes, it feels like I am more him than he is.”

“I know, without a doubt, you are not him. Elliot isn’t angry; he isn’t mean.”

He looked at me, his eyes filled with sadness.

“When can I see Elliot again?” I pressed.

“Do you really want to see him again? After everything he’s done?”

“I love him.”

Not-Elliot shook his head.

“You have to let him go. This isn’t over until Mr. Robot says it is.”

“What isn’t over? What does Mr. Robot want? What if I can help?”

Not-Elliot bit his lip, and he looked just like Elliot again, a conflict clearly going on beneath his exterior.

“You forget even more quickly than Elliot does—you are the bug in our system.”

My hands were shaking as I brought them together to brush off the sand. I stood up, feeling sick.

“Even you know enough about computers to know the steps for removing a bug.”

Enter safe mode to remove the bug, delete temporary files, reinstall damaged software or files, increase defense.

“If you’re Elliot’s safe mode, Mr. Robot is going to delete me.”

My legs felt like they were going to give away, and I knew I needed to leave before I lost my mind. Elliot was right here, right in front of me, and a piece of him was going to destroy the last year of his life—of my life.

I took a step back as Not-Elliot watched me. I turned away from him, but I was suddenly seized by a wild desperation.

I rushed back and dropped to my knees on the sand in front of him, almost throwing him off balance as he braced his feet and turned toward me.

Not-Elliot’s mouth was shaped in an oh of surprise as I leaned in to kiss him.

I clutched the front of his hoodie and I kissed him with all the love I felt for Elliot. I kissed him as the last bit of daylight faded to black, as the waves crashed on to the beach, and as the insistent spring wind swirled around us, grains of sand dancing against our exposed skin.  

“I—I’m—I’m not him,” he stammered as soon as he his opened eyes to look into mine.

“I know. But … why can’t I love you, too? Why can’t we work together to help Elliot?”

Not-Elliot and I looked at each other for a long, long time, the lamps on the boardwalk popping on to bathe us in a ghostly light.

“All I want is to be happy with Elliot. I’ve never been in love like this before—I don’t care how many parts of Elliot there are … I’ll love them all. Just please, please don’t let Mr. Robot get rid of all the happiness I know Elliot has felt this year.”

“I have to go,” he said, his head moving back and forth, his eyes large and confused. “Let him go, Y/N. Do us all a favor and just let him go.”

Not-Elliot pushed my hands off of him and walked away quickly, his lithe frame dipping into the small throng of people who were headed toward the arcades as the boardwalk lit up for the night.

He never looked back.

Tags: @sherlollydramoine​ @rami-malek-trash​ @teamwolf2411 @limabein​ @txmel​​ @alottanothing​​ @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​​ @moon-stars-soul​​ @free-rami​ @ramimedley​​ @hopplessdreamer​​ @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall​​ @hah0106​​ @clumsybookworm18​​ @diasimar​​ @ramisgirl512​​ @aboutthatmelancholystorm​​

[lou-is-creative]

Unpredictable (pt 6)

ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ: 6 Underground

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: Four/Billy // Eight/???

ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ: Four/Billy x male!Oc

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ: The game is on

ꜱᴏɴɢ:  Whatever it takes - Imagine dragons

𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤, 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥!

ᴀɴ: ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀ, ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴅᴀʏꜱ. ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ! ᴘɪᴄ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍɪɴᴇ!

The night was long and peaceful. Exactly what Eight needed after being up for more than 48 hours. And Four seemed to be in need of some sleep too. Why so ever....

Maybe because it was rare for him to have a night without dreaming of all the things that happened. Of his girlfriend who let him fall for a necklace, of Six who sat in this green car, blood everywhere, with a blade straight through his body.

Maybe he really needed some good rest which he normally couldn’t get. I mean, how was one supposed to get his well-deserved sleep when his past kept chasing him throughout the night?

But all of that sparked questions. Why he was able to sleep through? What was it that made a difference? Well there are several options. Option number one was that all the laughing and joking really did him well. Option number two was that he wasn’t the only one sleeping and the steady breathing next to him calmed him down. Let’s take the third option, it was both.

They probably could have continued sleeping for several more hours, but One had different plans.

"Where the hell are Four and Eight?"

He asked now and rubbed his sleeves. The leader needed to have a talk with Eight about the mission and how they would proceed. But Eight wasn't there, not in the main room of their haunted house. The only logical explanation was that he was with Four and that they were either asleep or doing... whatever they would be doing. He didn’t really want to think of the possibilities. It was a waste of time anyways.

"Fuck it, I will get them now."

One finally said and made his way to Fours room. It was 2pm. What were they, teenagers? Whatever. He didn't care and just swung the door open. And the sight alone was hilarious. Eight and Four were laying in the bed. And while Eight didn't have anything of the blanket, Four had the same problem with the bed. One never would have assumed that a small guy like Eight could take over most of the bed for himself. But Four didn't bother. He had the blanket.  With watching the scene, One couldn't help but burst into a loud laughter.

Which was the reason they woke up.

Eight was on his legs before he could even process what was happening. And he seemingly did it for self-defence because he grabbed the first thing he could find, ready to use it as a weapon. At least until he realized that the pants he was holding weren't exactly helpful when it came to defending himself.

Four just turned around and pulled the blanket over his head.

One could barely hold himself. The last time he laughed that hard was as Four nearly shit his pants when they first met.

"Can't you be quiet, for once?"

Four groaned and sat up. His hair was a mess. Bit by bit, the other Ghosts followed One out of curiosity. And they all ended up laughing as they took a look at the situation. Because Four had gotten up by now and both of them looked like they were about to murder One for waking them.

"Okay, okay, get ... Get dressed we need to speak about the mission..."

One said and wiped a tear away that got caused by the excessive laughing. Eight and Four threw angry gazes at everyone, -although Eights gaze was admittedly more effective than Fours-, until they were alone and the door was closed. They then looked at each other for a moment, still not really awake. Eight grabbed his clothes and got changed. He definitely needed new ones, but they were still in his car and he had to get there somehow.

Silence dominated the room as both of them turned to face opposite directions to get changed. Four also just put on some pants. He needed a shower.

"You done?"

Eight asked and Four nodded.

"Yeah, let's go."

The smaller grabbed his phone and checked his messages.

*Hey, this is Amanda~😘 last night was amazing I hope to see you again soon 💞💕*

"Did she text you?"

Four asked nosey and glanced at the other boys phone.

"Yep."

*Hey beautiful 💕 sorry for responding so late, was asleep till now. I want to see you again soon too. Missing your lips.💭😗 *

As Four and Eight entered the room, One immediately started talking.

"Okay, I know you two had a long night, but sleeping until 2pm is not acceptable. Anyways, you did okay last night and now we have to plan the rest of the mission."

Eight raised a brow.

"I think I did awesome."

He said and Four just nodded before they did a really cool but casual-looking fist bump. One watched them, a little confused, but he just shook his head and walked over to the pin board.

"Okay, her father will want to meet you, but he will not leave the island. Which means, that you are going to get invited and then you are figuring out where they lack security. BUT we can't hack the cameras there. You will have one camera on your shirt and a mic so we can solely perceive as much as you can."

Eight nodded and looked at his phone to text the girl back. Four watched with interest as Eight showed him something. And they grinned like two teenage boys who just saw boobs. I mean, they probably did but still.

"Why are you- are you even listening to me?"

One asked and Four and Eight looked up, still grinning like two idiots.

"Yeah, sure. I will be at her house and have a mic and a cam, you see what I see. And hear what I hear."

While his words were more of the teenage 'I don't care' demeanour, his voice stayed serious. Which was probably the only reason why One wasn't mad at him.

"Okay, that's that. Don't ruin your relationship with her and-"

One paused while looking at the two of them. They were already starring at the phone again.

"okay, never mind, that's it. That's the talk, you can leave now."

A sigh left Ones mouth and he just shook his head as Four and Eight disappeared in Fours room again.

And honestly, One couldn't blame them for behaving like sixteen-year-olds. Because he knew that as they actually were at the age of sixteen, they couldn't act it out. They weren't able to really enjoy their teenage years. But those were stories he kept to himself.

"Dude, you know her one day and she sends you pics like this one. Tell me your secrets."

Four was sitting next to Eight on the bed and watched him text Amanda. Eight turned around to face Four.

"All about trust mate. You make her trust you, she sends pics without you asking for it. It is that simple. How you make her trust you? Words. Sweet words."

Eight said and Four raised a brow.

"With your accent, you'd have it easy. As long as you chose some fancy words instead of swear-words. You know, something like; you look absolutely lovely in that dress."

"Why do I have it easy with my accent?"

Eight shrugged.

"Because the British accent is known as one of the sexiest around the world. Plus, your voice goes deep, it's just... Hot."

Eight shrugged again and focussed on his phone as he tried to avoid giving Four more compliments about his voice. It really started to get slightly gay. Fortunately, Four wasn't questioning his friend.

Okay, to be fair, it wasn't completely fortunate either. Instead of thinking it was gay, Four felt a sudden boost of confidence. So he pushed his voice to it's lowest and focussed on Eight.

"Do you consider my voice as attractive?"

He asked and Eight froze for a moment. He even stopped texting to look at him.

"Are you flirting or flexing?"

His eyes focussed on his mate and for a short second, Four could swear he saw them light up. Was he challenging him?

"What do you want it to be?"

Four asked back and his eyes were just as focussed as Eights. The raven-haired lifted a brow. Then he cracked a challenging smirk.

"What if I say flirting?"

Shoot. Yeah, good question though. Four looked a bit irritated. The thought that he didn't necessarily think this through came a little late.

Eight backed away, scoffing softly before looking at his phone again.

"A little advice, Four. You don't play a game you're doomed to lose."

Four didn't know what to respond. Eight just ended the whole game and even worse? He won. Four couldn't let that slip. But he also couldn't come up with anything to change it. At least not right away. But he'd find an opportunity, sooner or later. A small sigh cut through the silence.

"She just told me she had to put her phone away, her father wants to eat with her or something."

Eight locked his phone and leaned back before tilting his head to look at Four.

"Now I'm bored, entertain me."

Said person nearly fell from his beliefs. That was... cute. Was that really him? The small-snappy-headstrong Eight he knew until then? Or was it a whole different person who just talked?

The blonde must've looked really confused because Eight lifted a brow and waved his hand in front of Fours face.

It must’ve been his imagination.

"Hey spoon-master?"

"Huh?"

"Oh thank god, I thought I broke you... I said I'm bored. Usually I'd play some video-games, but One did not allow me to bring my PlayStation."

Fours eyes grew bigger.

"You had a PlayStation and One did not allow you to bring it?"

Eight nodded a little and Four exhaled frustrated while looking at the ceiling.

"I always wanted to have one."

"Well then, we should go buy one?"

Four turned around to face him. And Eight really enjoyed looking at the sparkling green eyes that focussed on him.

"You'd buy one with me?"

"Of course.  But there is a condition."

Four raised a brow and leaned back.

"And that would be...?"

Eight glanced at the taller and a sly spark of excitement got visible in his eyes as well.

"Teach me how to skateboard."

Four raised a brow. He then looked at his skateboard in the edge of the room just to look right back at Eight.

"That's it? That's the condition?"

Eight raised a brow, as if he was about to ask him what was so wrong about the condition but Four just chuckled and shook his head.

"Fine, come on, I'll teach you.”

He stood up and grabbed his board before he turned around to make sure the other followed him. Eight was right behind him and Four just grinned while walking out.

"Where are you two going?"

One interfered and Four lifted up his skateboard.

"Just outside. I'm showing Eight how to skateboard."

Five shot Eight a glare. Four did not notice, but Eight saw it. Although he was rather confused about the whole angered expression, so he didn't react on it. If there was something wrong, she could tell him instead of looking passive-aggressive.

"Okay but don't drive too far."

One said and then realized that he sounded like a father. A fact he considered awfully disturbing.

"You pack of idiots."

Well, at least he tried to save himself from the Dad image. He did his best okay? Eight looked at Four and they then grinned and nodded in unison before leaving the wreck.

The two of them walked next to each other on their way to the empty hall.

"Before you can really start to drive, you gotta know how to fall."

"Wow, thank you for believing in me. Pessimist."

Eight joked and Four grinned a little while shrugging.

"You just look like you're one of those soft boys who is afraid to dirty his hands. And-"

"I will have my hands dirtied in your blood if you dare to continue that sentence."

Eight raised his finger and his brow. Four grinned a little as he calmly put Eights finger down.

"Calm down, everyone has to know how to fall. I personally wish I'd known sooner. You know, I'm a little bit clumsy and I have a lot of bad luck and somehow bad timing even. Knowing how to fall is important."

Four started and placed the board on the ground.

"If you're as clumsy as you say you are, what is your... Like what do you do?"

"They call me skywalker. I do parkour."

"Like jumping from building to building and climbing high places and stuff?"

"Exactly."

"That is like... Super awesome. I once played a game where the main character was a parkour guy himself and I got all excited and used to climb all kinds of buildings in that game. Like the Duomo. I really wanted to learn it but I am not really fond heights and I just have the bad feeling that if I would try it, I'd die. Like, immediately."

Four grinned a little.

"Been there, the Duomo I mean. Impressive view. Anyways, we got time, I will take you with me some day. But first, this."

Four pointed at the board under his feet. He was standing still.

"Okay so if you lose the balance, you fall forward. Mostly. And when you fall, you wanna make sure you can catch yourself with your hands first. But don't let your whole weight rest on your hands and try to give in. Because if you fall like this;"

Four imitated a fall and caught himself with his hands first. It didn’t really look like falling. He did a fucking roll.

"You just do a roll. It gives double points because you can't really get hurt and it looks better than falling on your face, you know what I'm saying?"

Eight just nodded. Although he was pretty sure that he would never be able to fall like this. But it really looked cool.

"Okay, now come here."

The smaller took some steps forward and was about to put his foot on the board but Four pushed it aside.

"You're not that far."

He said and Eight groaned a little, causing him to grin.

"Just a tiny thing before I let you stand on it. Close your eyes. Great, now let yourself fall forward. But before you can really fall, you catch yourself with your foot."

"Man I thought you'd catch me. Disappointed."

But Eight let himself fall and Four continued afterwards. As he finally saw Eight stand on the board, he was already proud. Not necessarily of Eight, but of himself. Because he taught him.

"Okay, I think I got this, so driving now I-"

The second Eight tried to actually get the board to move, he lost his balance. And although he tried his best to catch it again, he just fell.

Fortunately, right into Fours arms. He was already expecting something like this.

"Careful there."

He said softly and helped Eight back on the board. The smaller didn't look embarrassed at all, but ohh he was.

"Okay, just hold on to my hand, don't try to drive just let yourself roll."

Four advised and slowly pulled Eight with him on the board.

"Go left, we don't wanna collide with the wall, don't we?"

"How the fuck do I go left?"

"Lean in, come on, balance!"

Eights grip got a little tighter but he somehow managed not to hit the wall.

"WOW I did this, awesome!”

Four just laughed and let go of Eights hand.

"Wait, no. No. Don't. No no no give me that hand back."

"You don't need it, just relax."

Well, technically, Eight wouldn't have needed it at the extremely slow speed he was going. But Four kind of forgot to warn him about the slope in the middle of the hall. The moment he remembered it was already too late.

"JUMP OFF, JUMP OFF!"

Four gesticulated hysterically, already running to reach his friend who had no idea what was about to happen.

"What do you mean jump off, are you out of your fucking- HOLY SHI-"

A drawn-out scream echoed through the room

Eight drove off in high speed, not really knowing how to help himself and Four desperately tried to give him advice on how to get off the board but Eight just couldn't help himself.

"JUMP!"

Four screamed one last time and this time, Eight did. He jumped and landed on his side. Four ran over to him, kneeling down next to his friend.

"Mate are you alright?"

The smaller turned around, groaning a bit.

"For fucks sake this thing was trying to murder me."

Four bent over Eight, who looked into his face now. He was okay, no scratch, nothing. Just a bit dirt on his cheeks that Four wiped off with one swift motion.

What they didn't notice, was that they were not alone. Five, who was supposed to get them inside again, was standing in the gate of the hall. From her perspective of the scenario, Four wasn't just bending over to wipe some dirt off of Eights face. It looked like Four bent over to kiss him. Her eyes widened in shock and she turned around to run away.

Four and Eight turned a bit. They could swear they heard someone running.

"Maybe we should like... Stand up."

Eight suggested and Four just grinned a little, standing up and helping Eight to get onto his feet again.

"You did... pretty well for someone who never stood on a board before. just... The falling, man. It looked ridiculous."

Four said and Eight just grumbled a bit while cleaning his clothing from the dust.

"Yeah, well, I have to practice more if I want to fall like a pro. But now we should get inside. I need a shower and my clothes and I still have to text Amanda and ask Three for the key of my new room."

"Tough though, I mean, you can like leave the texting up to me..."

"Hell no. Who knows what you'd text her?"

Four wiggled his eyebrows and grinned seductively.

"Exactly. You'd scare her."

Both of them ended up laughing and then walked back to the plane. They just stopped by at Eights car so he could get out his bags.

"How much exactly did you take with you?"

"I bought most of it just before I came here. My ... My grandparents would have known if something went missing. So all of that stuff is new."

Four raised a brow and tilted his head a little.

"What about your parents?"

Eight just smiled and shook his head as he got one of the bags out.

"I'm not gonna tell you my life story. I was told not to even mention my name. So guess what I am not going to do?"

"We all know each others names. Oh come on, at least the name!"

"No chance, Four."

He grabbed another bag and closed the door of the car before locking it again. Four casually took one bag to himself. So it were just two boys, each of them with a sports bag over their shoulder, walking into the headquarter.

"Eight, can we have a word?"

Said person turned around, a little bit confused, a little bit suspicious. Five was the one speaking and even Four was surprised by that.

"Okay, sure, go for it."

He answered but the girl just looked at Four, who was also standing there, waiting for the talk to begin.

"Alone."

Four rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on you guys, are you serious?"

The blonde asked but took Eights bag as well without any further complains and walked away. He'd ask Eight about it later.

Because at first he placed Eights bags inside his room and then grabbed himself some fresh clothing. He casually walked by Twos room to find out whether they were fucking because he still needed a key.

Is it really necessary to say that his poor ears were abused by the noises he heard as he passed them? Probably not. He was going to ask Three later. Now he had to shower.

As Eight came back from his talk, he fearlessly approached Twos room to knock and ask for the key through the door. Three was probably asleep and Two answered. She told him that Three had lost the key and that he just had to kick in the door.

Eight didn't have to be told twice and the next thing Four heard was a loud noise and a quieter cracking sound. He jumped out of the shower and ran out with nothing but a towel around his waist.

"MATE WHAT THE FUCK?"

He exclaimed as he saw his friend, who was currently looking at the room in front of him. Highly satisfied. The door was on the ground BUT he had gained access.

Two came out of her room. And Four could swear he never saw her laugh like this. Hearing Two laugh, got the other ghosts curious who joined on the hallway to see what was happening.

There he was, Eight. The youngest member of them in front of a kicked in door, awfully proud. Then there was Four, a towel around his waist, which he was holding onto like his life depend on it, looking shocked. And then there was Two, laughing like the evil maniac everyone thought she could be.

"I- this was a joke. I have the key."

She managed to say and Eight looked at her with a mixture of dumbfounded and 'you've-got-to-be-kidding-me'.

Spoiler, Eight.

She wasn't kidding.

"Well, then... So it is."

Eight said and vanished into the room to put up the door again. Four followed him, although he wasn't wearing anything. He was still curious about the talk that Five and Eight had before.

"Mate?"

He asked and Eight placed the door to match the frame as good as possible.

"Yeah?"

He asked back and looked at it, not being satisfied at all. The door just stood there, LEANED there against the wall... He never had to actually repair a door he kicked in.

"What did Five say?"

He asked and Eight looked at Four for a moment.

"She didn't send you away just so I'd tell you later. It's nothing, really. You should be more worried about your shower. Because the water is still running."

Four looked down and at his body. He was still naked, still just the towel, still dripping wet. And... he completely missed Eights gaze.

"Naked suits you though, very aesthetic, nine out of ten."

The smaller boy said and popped a little smirk, causing Four to raise a brow at him.

"Why just nine? I think I'm at least an eleven."

"Oh, you sure are but the facial expression you're doing is just... you look confused."

Now if that wasn't the chance to bring back the game from before and win it this time. Four chuckled a little and looked down shortly before he lifted his head, taking a step forward to be closer to Eight. And he really was close. So close, Eight was worried to get wet himself.

"What about now?"

Four asked with his deep voice and starred into Eights eyes, taking one hand away from his towel in order to place it on the other boys cheek. In other words; he really made sure Eight would lose. Which he did. Big time. Because that red shimmer on his face went really well with the widened eyes and the goose bumps he got. Four enjoyed this moment of victory to the fullest. With plopping the next big smirk, he backed off.

"1:1, drawn. May the games be continued."

The blonde said while grinning. Oh how good it felt to win... But his victory was not claimed yet, which he knew just too well. Before making it out of the room, he stopped.

"Oh and Eight..?"

Eight, who was still embarrassed and currently holding the door, looked at him.

"What?"

"You don't play a game you're doomed to lose."

Eight clenched his eyes together and a low growl left his mouth.

"Oh you just got me fucking started."

He managed to breathe out through his gritted teeth. Four just grinned.

"I'm already excited."

And with that, he got under the shower again.

Eight was pissed. He hated losing. Especially losing control. This game couldn't continue like that. He refused to let Four win. But beating that last one was about to be hard. Not impossible, but hard. Before he could think of a plan, his phone started ringing. It was Amanda.

"Hey babe, what's wrong?"

Eights voice casually dropped an octave as he picked up the phone. Unfortunately, his voice wasn't the only thing that dropped. And only through holding his hand up fast enough, it didn't hit the ground.

"Oh for fucks sake, you ass-hat of a fricking door! Oh god, I am so sorry my angel, I hope I didn't scare you? I just bumped my head on a door because I was so surprised to see your number on my phone, I already thought something happened. And of course I then paid attention to you rather than the door..."

"Well saved, boy."

Eights eyes widened. That wasn't Amandas voice. It was a male voice. It was her father.

"Good evening, sir."

The raven-haired said while slowly putting the door down in order to be able to walk over to see One.

"To you too, Jacob. Now, you seem to be someone who is swearing a lot?"

"Not really, sir. I curse when I am alone. I normally don't whenever I am around people."

Eight could hear Amanda agree with him in the background and he took a deep breath as he tapped Ones shoulder before he gesticulated to tell him that Amandas father was on the other side.

But that didn't work out well. One just looked at him confused so Eight rolled his eyes and walked over to the pin board to point at a picture of the man. Now One understood.

"So, Jacob, where are your parents?"

"My parents died, sir."

Silence. The way Eights voice sounded so brutally honest and yet so hurt must have been the factor that convinced the man on the other side.

"But I have learned to look out for myself."

He added and listened to the thoughtful silence on the other side.

"You know, Jacob, I'd like to meet you in person. I assume you should be free tomorrow?"

"Yes sir, I am free."

Eight sounded excited and even One would have bought the whole facade if he didn't know that this was absolutely fake. The boy grabbed a pen and wrote ‘tomorrow’ on the board so One would understand.

"Good. Amanda will send you the details later."

A big grin was plastered on the young mans face.

"I feel honoured, sir. Thank you for the great opportunity."

"It was her idea. Besides, there is one last thing..."

"Yes?"

"What kind of car do you drive?"

"Mercedes c-class amg, newest model, matte-metallic-blue."

Silence. One looked at Eight as if he was about to kill him for that much information. But Eight was lucky.

"Amg motor? Because if so, why didn't you chose a SL instead? They are sportier."

"Oh, I wanted enough seats. I don't know if I want to have a family when I'm older so a car with four doors was the obvious choice, sir."

He could hear a soft laugh on the other line.

"You seem to be very decent, how come my daughter picked you?"

"DAD!!!"

"Okay, I'll let you two talk now. Bring your car tomorrow."

"Yes sir, thank you!"

One looked confused as fuck, but he was satisfied with the result. The only thing that really counted. Eight looked so proud of himself… just as if he had kicked in another door.

"Babe, not to be disappointing you but, can we text from now on? I still gotta shower and I have a few things to settle for tomorrow. "

Eight turned around and walked towards the shower again and they ended the call after exchanging some awfully romantic words.

Right after finishing, the boy put on the pullover he had from Four and approached said person in his room. Not before he softly knocked on the door though. Who knew what the other was doing in there?

"Four?"

He asked and peeked through the door. Four looked up and tilted his head.

"Hm?”

He hummed lowly and Eight entered the room.

"I wanted to get my stuff before I go to bed."

"You want to go to bed, like... now?"

Eight looked a little confused.

"Yeah, why shouldn't I?"

Four pointed at Eights side of the bed. Uhm, I mean the side on which Eight slept last night, obviously.

"Thought we could still do something?"

Eight saw a chance and he took it. His lips curled up into a challenging smirk. And it was the only warning Four got.

"What do you have in mind, Four?"

Eight asked and spoke softly as he closed the door to approach the bed. Four, who now understood what this situation was about, started grinning a little.

"I don't know,-"

You could barely hear the pause he made, but before ending his sentence with a simple 'you tell me' he remembered what Eight said about his accent, his voice and the choice of words.

"-love, whatever is on your mind."

Eights eyes had that spark again. The spark Four found both, truly amazing and incredibly challenging.

"Looking at you lying there, I have a thousand things on my mind."

Eight now stood directly in front of Four who sat up just to lay his hands on the others waist. He was not going to let Eight take the lead again. Never.

"Enlighten me then, darling."

He hummed, rubbing the fabric of the sweater Eight wore softly against the others skin. Eight smirked slightly as he bowed down to be closer to Four.

"Oh, we don't need words for that."

He whispered and leaned his forehead against Fours, who was now getting tensed. He was about to lose but something saved him. Eights phone. An annoyed groan left the smallers mouth and he stood straight again.

"This one doesn't count. Although it would have been my win."

Four just laughed. He was more relieved than anything. So relieved, he kept holding Eights waist for a little longer just because he totally forgot about it.

"So, you got some pudding while we spend the night?"

Four grinned a little and stood up to get some pudding for them. And two spoons. Only now, that Eight finished responding to the text message he just got, he noticed that the room wasn't a mess anymore. No clothes on the ground, the whiskey bottle on the nightstand and the bed was neat.

"You cleaned? Never thought you'd be capable of that."

Eight grinned and Four turned around as if he, again, wanted to defend himself.

"Sarcasm. I'm not surprised. I think it looks much better that way."

Eight let himself fall on the bed and groaned a little while burying his head in the pillow.

"What did she send you? Some cheesy good night text?"

Four asked as he walked over to the bed, sitting next to Eight.

"No; sent me a pic of her."

The sentence got Fours attention. Curiosity spread inside of him.

"Can I see?"

He asked and Eight pushed the phone over to him.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but no boobs, just her in my pullover."

Four eyed the picture. He just really paid more attention to the hoodie than to the girl. A simple black hoodie with the word ‘passion’ written on it.

"Passion, I like that. Bet it suited you."

Eight smiled slightly but before he could express how thankful he was, Four scrolled up.

"OHHH mate, what is THIS?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Eight asked now and turned his head away from the pillow. The moment he saw Fours smirk, he knew what this was about.

"Would you please not stare at my body, that is kinda private."

"Didn't know you had muscles."

"I don't know whether I should hit you for the fact that you just assumed I was all slim and weak or for the fact that you forgot that everyone got muscles because no one could move without them."

Eight said before he hit Fours shoulder with his fist. Not slightly, not carefully, hard. He was truly pissed.

"Ouch, hey! Mate, I didn't mean it like that..."

He tried to calm his friend and rubbed his shoulder.

"You're well-build and I was joking."

Eight was still grumbling and turned his head away again. Four wanted to sigh but he kept it. It would make it worse.

"I mean it. Seriously."

Eight turned back and looked at Four who placed a pudding in front of him, as well as a spoon. Although the raven-haired wanted to, he couldn't suppress his smile. Instead, he sat up and ate his pudding.

"Thanks."

He mumbled and Four just nodded as he put the phone down to eat his as well.

"How come you don’t have a girlfriend, like Five or so?"

Eight broke the silence and looked over to his friend who raised a brow, then furrowed them and shrugged.

"I don't know if Five would be down for that."

Now Eight raised his brow.

"Just- how blind are you exactly?"

"Huh?"

Eight chuckled as he shook his head. But Four didn't get what this was about so he just shrugged.

"I guess I am not good in figuring out what people think of me. What do you think of me though?"

Eight nearly choked on his pudding.

"Why would you want to know that?"

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend here so of course I care about your opinion."

If it was possible to describe the purity of Eights smile and how big it grew, I'd do it. But it wasn't

"I uhm... I actually must say that so far, there is nothing I don't like about you. What about me? What do you think of me?"

Eight asked and Four grinned a little.

"The same, actually. You're a fun guy. A horrible skateboarder but a fun guy."

The smaller threw him a glare but they ended up laughing about it. The phone was still laying in the middle and Eight grabbed it to unlock it and look at the message he had missed.

"News from your girl?"

"Actually, it's NUDES from 'my' girl."

Now it was Fours turn to nearly choke on his food.

"What?"

"You heard me. Now... what do I respond to boobs?"

Four lifted his hand to rest it on Eights shoulder and made sure that his friend would face him. It created a dramatic scene in which Four took a deep breath before responding with all seriousness he could bring up.

"A dickpic."

Eight blinked for a second before Four started laughing hysterically.

"Your face dude!"

Eight still looked a little perplex before he started laughing as well and shook his head.

"Oh wise master of the spoons... But I will not send her a picture of my dick."

Four was still laughing and Eight replied something before letting himself fall on the bed again.

"I'm tired. Let's sleep."

He looked over at Four, who now put the empty pudding stuff away.

"You're probably right."

Four responded and laid down next to Eight who seemingly forgot that he had his own room. But he wasn't the only one who forgot.

"Night mate."

"Night."

AN: Please feel free to reblog so this fanfiction reaches more people~ Thank you for following up, you’re amazing, have a great day!

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Ballsy

An idea from @starfruitspice about Rhys and Vasquez being in a meeting with Handsome Jack, only for there to be no seat for Rhys. So he plops his butt right down in Jack’s lap instead xD

Also on my ao3 here. :) My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. 

--

It had been one year, sixteen days, three hours, and forty-seven minutes since Rhys had first met Handsome Jack in the flesh.

Four months, eighteen days, and forty-five minutes after that first meeting, Jack had asked Rhys out to dinner.

And last night, laying underneath Jack after sating their need, Rhys laughed and brushed sweat-damp hair from his face, stress relieved and worries comforted as Jack patted his ass and told him he’d take care of everything.

There was a meeting tomorrow for his department heads, and it wasn’t good.

He’d been pulling a lot of late nights to handle the excess problems that had been piled upon him by middle-management, or specifically, his arch-nemesis Vasquez. Work that had been necessary-- high-priority even- and neglected by those who should have delegated the issues better.

Jack was… Well, livid didn’t quite cut it, but he was definitely upset by the vulnerabilities that Helios had had for far longer than they should have. Stuff that could have easily been exploited by anyone with a decent set of hacking skills and the time to do so.

Luckily, no such thing had happened as of yet, and Helios was still flying high in the sky, safe and sound as Rhys worked himself ragged trying to apply the equivalent of a bandaid to patch the gaping holes in basic security.

It was far more than one man could do alone, and much too late. And to make matters worse, he was given an impossible deadline with the caveat that should he not finish in time, it would be on his head.

Basically, Vasquez was taking advantage of his higher position and trying to-- at the very least- get Rhys fired… possibly from a cannon.

The bastard had taken the position that should have been Rhys’ several months back, due to a few coincidences and plain-out ill-timing, and not only was the bearded man incompetent, but apparently he could hold a pretty solid grudge as well, even if he’d gotten what he wanted.

Vasquez had been baiting Rhys for weeks, trying to set him up for failure only for the other man to already head him off with upper management. But this, though… This was gross incompetence at its finest.

Rhys had maybe had a little undignified breakdown on his comm with Jack, the older man asking where he was when he missed their movie date, and Rhys was still at the office far later than anyone who valued their sanity and sleep should have been. And that’s when everything had come to a head, and he rambled about deadlines and grudges and wanting to perform well, and Jack had told him to leave it all and meet him at his penthouse.

One enthusiastic round of sex later, and the younger man was feeling way better about things.

“Why don’t you just let me handle that douchebag, babe?” Jack said as he kissed about the younger man’s neck, getting pleased little huffs from Rhys.

“I told you from the start that I didn’t want special treatment,” Rhys said as he looked over his shoulder, meeting the arched eyebrow on Jack’s face. The older man’s unimpressed expression made him chuckle. “I want to get ahead by my skills, not my connections, Jack.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few connections for ya right here,” Jack laughed, pressing his hips into Rhys’ ass and making the younger man chuckle. It was too soon to go again, but didn’t mean Jack couldn’t make jokes or rub his soft cock against him. “...maybe in like ten minutes.”

“Just ten? That’s a little ambitious.”

“You little shit,” Jack said fondly, turning him over to kiss him properly. After he had the younger man sighing and humming in his throat, Jack broke to look down at him again. “Seriously though, kitten. Old wallethead has been begging to be taken down a peg or five. I thought you said that office should be yours.”

“Well, yeah…”

“Rhysie…” Jack sort of chuckled, though it was ill-spirited. “When they stop playing fair, you stop playing fair.” That got a smirk out of the younger man at least, and Jack grinned. “Want me to feed him to the lab animals in R&D?”

The idea made a smile play about Rhys’ lips. “No, maybe not that.”

“I can make an accident happen,” the older man proposed with a wicked grin. “Something involving life support systems… but more fun.”

The idea made Rhys chuckle, tempting as it was. But his ego wouldn’t allow for something so simple. “I don’t want to take the position the same way he did, Jack.”

“Aw, baby, you want the peons who work for you to trust you? Love you?” That got a roll of the eyes and a huff from the younger man. But Jack wasn’t deterred. “We could always go public, buttercup. No one would think twice about crossing you if they know you’re with me. Not to mention all the mid-day office sex we could be having.”

Rhys snorted. “More than we already have now?”

“Hey now cupcake, it’s been, like, weeks since I last bent you over a desk.”

“Well I’ve been busy cleaning up that security issue.”

“And I told you I can make it all right. Vent the idiot that’s pushed this all on you and give you his office. I could even do it right now. Whaddya say, Rhysie?”

The temptation was real, but it was important to the younger man he accomplish this on his own.

He’d never said it aloud, and he didn’t think Jack didn’t know, but the older man was still his hero. Even if they were fucking, and spending quality time together-- and Rhys had gotten to know the man behind the image- he still looked up to Jack; still wanted to be like him. Jack had taken what he wanted, yes, but he’d fended off Dahl on his own. He’d proven his skill and worth to the company, not only to take the position he had now, but to keep it. And regardless of how much Jack told him his worth, he needed to prove it to himself through his own trial of obstacles.

Vasquez was his Dahl; he needed to know he could achieve things through his own means. It was harder than employing dirty tricks, yeah, but much more satisfying.

“That’s really sweet, Jack.” Rhys’ voice was soft, touched by the sentiments. But no, he still didn’t want to ride the CEO’s coattails. “But I just-- I want to know I’m good enough.”

“Aw baby, you’re definitely good enough. Just ask my dick.”

“Jack.”

The stern tone warned the older man against pushing his luck, and though it was frustrating, he got it. “Fine, have it your way. Keep up all this unnecessary secrecy bullshit and make it all harder. Not including my--”

“Finish that sentence and I’m going to sleep.”

“My uh, my work productivity,” Jack amended playfully. He dropped the subject all together at the smile and roll of eyes that garnered him, and instead decided to kiss the frown from the younger man’s face. “What do you say to round two, pumpkin?”

“I’d say, has it really been ten minutes?”

Jack couldn’t help the ugly snort of laughter that left him, muttering about how he could get his dick up just fine, and he’d make the younger man regret his words.

And at the very least, it did help to make Rhys feel better. He slept more soundly that night than all the weeks previous, not knowing more problems awaited him tomorrow.

--

“Theeeeere you are, cupcake. Finally chose to grace us with your presence, huh?”

Jack’s booming voice made Rhys inwardly roll his eyes as he finally made it to the CEO’s office.

Rhys hadn’t been told he was going to be a part of this meeting, and the smirk on Vasquez’ face told him it was every bit as intentional as he suspected.

Apparently, everyone in the department knew about the personnel change except for Rhys. Upper-management were busy scrambling against a minor data hack that required their attentions and clearance, and Rhys was stuck on the roster in their place with Vasquez. Over three hours ago.

Part of him wondered why Jack hadn’t messaged him about this some time in the past hour, and the other part wondered if the CEO had even known about the change. Certainly he would have said something; let Rhys know about the brewing storm since it was, after all, his decision to keep their relationship a secret, and he’d be in the man’s office as an employee, not his lover.

Then again, judging by the shit-eating grin on Vasquez’ face, this was yet another attempt on his job, and Jack was probably just as surprised as Rhys.

The glare Rhys shot Vasquez was nothing short of venomous as he strode into the office, the click of his heeled boots echoing off the marble floors while Jack’s grin only grew.

“We’ve been having a nice long conversation about you, kitten. A nice, involved conversation,” Jack told him as the younger man brought up to stand before Jack’s desk, somewhere near Vasquez.

“Is that so?” Rhys said quietly, shooting a look at Vasquez’ smug face as the bearded man looked far too pleased for someone responsible for leaving Helios and Hyperion open to attack.

“You’re over an hour late, Rhys,” Vasquez self-important voice drawled, a look in his eyes that was giddy with anticipation as he more or less threw his underling under the bus. He turned back to face the CEO, a look that seemed to say ‘see what I mean?’ on his face. “His work ethic is usually better than this, sir. Though I wish I could say the incompetence is new.”

Rhys could feel his face heat with fury. This was more than laziness, more than plain old competition and a grudge. Vasquez was actively trying to get him killed here. And had he not been secure in his relationship with Jack, he might’ve been scared he would’ve.

But no, Jack knew what was happening. He knew the situation. And furthermore, he knew that Rhys wanted to handle this on his own. It was the only reason the older man hadn’t sent this dirtbag down the corpse hatch his chair was halfway hovering over.

“Rude, too,” Jack added to Vasquez with a smirk aimed at Rhys. “Been in this meeting a full five minutes and still standing. Have a seat, buttercup.”

Rhys minorly frowned in confusion, wondering what Jack was up to and where he intended for Rhys to go.

There was only the one chair in front of Jack’s desk, clearly taken from a set further to the right where a couch and matching chair were set up as a kind of inner-office lounge. There were normally no chairs in front of the CEO’s desk, this he knew well. Did Jack want him to fetch his own? No, more likely he was trying to push Rhys into taking Vasquez’ seat, if not testing him to see if he’d sit on the floor. Or maybe kill the man right there in what would have been a poetic homage to Jack’s own snatch of power.

Well, Rhys chose to do none of those things, but he did choose his plan of action.

The surprise on Vasquez’ face quickly turned to cold panic as Rhys approached the CEO’s own desk, a look of surprised confusion on Jack’s face before he realized what it was the younger man intended to do. Jack leaned back in his chair, barely able to keep the smirk from his face as Rhys rounded the desk only to plop himself right in the CEO’s lap.

Jack wasn’t ashamed to admit the little demonstration gave him a boner right there and then, because the sheer brass balls on Rhys to make such a power move in front of his boss impressed the shit out of the CEO. He didn’t know what kind of game this was, or how the younger man wanted to play it, but boy was he ever game.

Jack huffed a little laugh, placing a hand on Rhys’ thigh as the younger man met his eyes before turning his gaze away. Never before was the temptation to fuck the younger man over a desk so alluring-- present company an audience or not- but Jack pushed the impulse back, turning his own smirking grin on the pallor of the bearded man sat down before them.

“And here I thought you said he wasn’t a team player,” Jack said with utter amusement, his hand giving Rhys’ thigh an appreciative squeeze.

“I- I ah- I-I-”

Jack chuckled as Vasquez stuttered, his face looking all the more white and bloodless against the black of his beard. Again, he felt a surge of pride for Rhys… or maybe that was just his dick. He was sure Rhys could feel him hard beneath that lovely ass parked in his lap. Oooh the things he wanted to do to the younger man… but it would have to wait.

He lazily stroked Rhys’ thigh, getting close enough to his crotch that Rhys shot the older man a warning look, but Jack only chuckled. Not like wallethead could see anything from where he was sitting anyways.

“Anyway, now that we’re all seated,” Jack said with a gleeful little smirk, “Care to explain to me how your department let a gaping frickin’ hole develop in our security protocols?”

Vasquez’ eyes shot to Rhys’ face before looking at the CEO and back. He was clearly out of his element here. Every possible way he’d imagined this meeting could have gone, and not once did something like this even enter his wildest dreams.

“The uh… t-the vulnerability was small when we--”

“Small, huh?” Jack asked, his hand stilling on Rhys’ thigh as his eyes narrowed at the bearded man. “You could drive a friggin’ truck through the size of the hole in our security!”

“B-but it was--” Vasquez’ eyes went to Rhys, full of fear and lacking the bravado of one who would pull such a stunt on him. He immediately tried to shift the blame. “The problem was small when Rhys here was assigned to--”

“When were you assigned to this problem, buttercup?” Jack immediately asked, turning his attention on the man in his lap.

Though his tone was soft, Rhys wasn’t dumb. Jack was furious, and the question was serious, vital to the livelihood of everyone on the station. Rhys wrapped his hand around the one Jack had on his thigh, and gave his hand a squeeze. “Three weeks ago, sir.”

“Three weeks, huh?” Jack turned his attention back to Vasquez, who was visibly sweating now. “Didn’t you say you had your team working on it since last month?”

“I-I- I uh, there’s-- I-It’s been a busy month, sir,” Vasquez sputtered out.

Jack’s hand left Rhys’ thigh to lean forward, grabbing an echotablet on his desk that had the details of the hole in security that was currently being exploited. He exhaled through his nose as he read over details, and Rhys raised a brow at Vasquez, as if to really let it sink in that he was alone in this matter, and Rhys wouldn’t be helping him. “Hm… and yet right here is the memo from one of our engineers letting your department know about the problem… Two months ago.”

“H-Handsome Jack, sir, please, there’s-- There’s clearly some, ah, miscommunication here-- Rhys--”

“Oh reeeeeally now, wallethead?” Jack threw the tablet back on the desk, leaning forward enough that Rhys had to lean back to get out of his way. The CEO chuckled dangerously, his hand back on Rhys’ thigh just a bit too tightly. “Because the way it looks to me, is that your incompetence-“

“T-The problem was supposed to be solved by Rhys--”

“And whose piss-poor management left a gaping freaking hole in the entirety of my goddamn space station?!” Jack’s snarl filled the whole of the office, not only outraged at being interrupted but also at the weak explanations he was being offered.

Rhys felt no small sense of satisfaction in the way Vasquez’ lip quivered, what little blood was left in his face now totally gone, leaving him whiter than a sheet. The grip Jack had on his thigh was bordering on pain, and his own heart was beating quickly with the adrenaline in the room, as well as with excitement and a small sense of accomplishment.

He didn’t even have to do much. Vasquez had incriminated himself plenty, and Jack apparently had all the evidence he needed of his inadequacy. No back-stabbing, no blackmail. It wasn’t at all too early to congratulate himself. If Vasquez started begging on his knees, it would only be the icing on top of the cake.

“H-Handsome Jack-- sir, please--”

Jack’s voice was dark with laughter, leaning back into his chair. “You don’t have anything better to say for yourself?”

His voice was far softer, and somehow it was so much more effective than any yelling the CEO could have done. Rhys squirmed under the hand he had on the younger man’s thigh, and Jack released his grip to resume slowly petting the younger man as he watched Vasquez sputter and stammer and make the same exact face everyone facing Jack’s wrath usually did.

Jack turned his attention back on Rhys, a dangerous grin on his face mixed with a sort of dark amusement. “Rhysie-- do you mind if I call ya Rhysie, buttercup?- What do you think I should do with this guy?”

Something pleased and self-assured unfurled inside the younger man, and-- burning and victorious in the satisfaction of it all- Rhys turned his attention to Vasquez before he looked back at Jack. “Well, sir, considering the absolute mess of things, and the seriousness of Helios’ life-support systems connected with our security--”

“Ah! Say no more, cupcake. Airlocking it is!”

“N-no Handsome Jack, sir! Please I-- Rhys! Rhys please--”

“Shut up you idiot, smart and handsome guys talking here,” Jack said, his hand again creeping up Rhys’ thigh to delve fingertips just between.

“I was going to say,” Rhys spoke up again, squeezing his legs together to stop Jack’s further exploration, “that since he created this mess, he should be the one to clean it up.”

Jack frowned a bit, not understanding as he looked at the pretty younger man in his lap. Vasquez was hardly skilled enough to patch everything, let alone on his own. He didn’t quite get how Rhys thought old wallethead could fix this mess. “IIIII’m not really followin’ ya, kiddo.”

Rhys moved his gaze back on Vasquez, relishing in the irony of it all as he couldn’t help the smirk that stretched over his face. “I heard janitorial had an opening.”

“What?!” Vasquez’ voice was indignant at the very idea, minor color coming back to his cheeks as Jack began to chuckle, totally ignoring the bearded man in favor of the one sitting in his lap.

“Janitorial, huh?” the CEO grinned, his hand moving further between Rhys’ legs before sliding all the way to his crotch. “Interesting. And I guess that would leave his job position vacant, wouldn’t it kitten?” Jack’s thumb rested just above Rhys’ cock in his pants, the older man cupping him with a wicked grin. Rhys gasped just a little at the pressure there, his attention from Jack’s hand only taken by the weak objection from Vasquez’ in his seat.

“B-but I’m not--”

“What was that?” Jack asked, a sharp look at Vasquez. A smile flashed across Jack’s face, gone as soon as it appeared. “That almost sounded like someone was ungrateful for not becoming the newest tourist to Helios’ orbit.”

“N-no sir, I just--”

“Good. Excellent. All settled then. Now get the hell out.” Vasquez frowed, sputtering as he looked at Jack helplessly. The CEO snarled at him, his hand giving Rhys a squeeze that made the younger man jump. “Do you have a death wish or something wallethead?!”

Vasquez jumped from his seat and ran, and Jack’s pleased cackles shook Rhys in his lap as they watched the bearded man flee.

“Damn, did you see the look on his face, pumpkin? Priceless.”

“Jack…” Rhys’ shaky laugh drew the older man’s eyes to his own, Rhys’ cheeks a little flushed as he grinned. “Your hand.”

The older man smirked. “What, this?” He gave the younger man’s stiffening cock a squeeze in his pants, chuckling. “Someone likes a little vengeance, doesn’t he?”

Rhys chuckled, ducking his face into Jack’s neck. Jack pressed a kiss to his neck, feeling Rhys’ smile in his own. “We really don’t have time for this, Jack,” Rhys said, though he pressed a kiss to the older man’s neck. “My department was fighting that breach of our systems when I left… and my patches will only hold for so long.”

Jack chuckled, shaking his head, and Rhys pulled away to look at him with both confusion and lust. “That was my little attack there, sweetheart.” Jack reached over Rhys again to fetch the tablet he’d thrown earlier. “Just a little something to make those asshats down there actually do their friggin’ jobs,” he said with a grin, fingers quickly dancing over the screen to pull up his own programming. “I’ve got a job for you too, sweetheart.”

“Mmm...Vasquez’ job?”

Jack snorted. “Well clearly, baby. But right now I was thinking something a little more hands on and more immediate.” Rhys gasped as Jack’s hand worked him through his pants, a little moan going through him as Jack chuckled. “Heh, that was a ballsy move there, pumpkin. Ballsy as hell. Sittin’ that tight ass down in the boss man’s lap right in front of that idiot… Christ that got me hard.”

Rhys only snickered, spreading his legs a little so Jack could further grope at him. A grin split his face thinking of the look that had been on Vasquez’ face as he’d fled the office. “Yeah, well… It seemed like the best thing to do.”

“Best damn decision anyone ever made,” Jack told him, kissing him and working the button at his fly. “He probably thinks you’re nuts, cupcake.” Jack stopped the hand he was working down Rhys’ pants, shaking with sudden laughter. “Can you imagine how that looked to him, baby? Holy crap, his face… Mmm you’re still full of surprises and I love it,” Jack finished with a kiss to Rhys’ jaw, delving his hand once again only to bring the younger man’s cock out.

“Mm Jack…” Rhys sighed out, pushing his forehead into Jack’s neck as his cock flexed in the older man’s hand.

“How’d you like to be bent over the boss man’s desk, buttercup?”

Jack’s voice was deep and lust-filled in his ear, the smile on his face apparent in his voice, and Rhys moaned as his thumb brushed over his cockhead. Didn’t sound like a bad idea to him, honestly. “It’s definitely been a while.”

“Been a while?” Jack’s hand stopped stroking him, and Rhys pulled back to give him a frown. “What do you call last night?”

Rhys snorted and rolled his eyes, a smile on his face. “I mean the desk part in particular, Jack.”

“Oooh gotcha!” The older man chuckled and pressed a kiss to the younger man’s cheek. He patted Rhys’ thigh. “Up, kitten.”

Rhys scrambled off his lap only for Jack to stand and embrace him from behind. His breathy snickers on the back of Rhys’ neck sent a pleasurable shiver up the younger man’s spine. The front of his thighs were pressed against the edge of Jack’s desk as the older man crowded him, and Rhys held Jack’s hands to his front fondly, sighing as the older man moved to again take his cock in hand.

“Seriously sweetheart, that was so friggin’ sexy the way you just sat right down,” Jack told him, pressing his own clothed cock into Rhys’ ass. “No one’s ever done that before. I’m gonna be thinkin’ about that for a long time.”

Rhys snickered and pressed backwards into the hardness Jack was grinding against him, moaning as the older man’s hand stroked him. “Jack come on.”

“I plan to, Rhysie,” he said with a laugh, nibbling Rhys’ ear and removing his hand from his cock to get his own pants down. He chuckled as Rhys looked over his shoulder in judgment over Jack’s hand off his cock in order to free his own. “That’s quite a pout on that cute face.”

“You’re taking forever,” Rhys whined, cock leaking and closer than he wanted to admit already, the high of Vasquez running from the office still surging through him.

“Mouthy, too,” Jack said with a grin, not at all put-off as he spread the younger man’s cheeks. Rhys properly bent over the desk, trying to urge Jack to fuck him already. Jack grinned as he rubbed his cock back and forth over the cleft of Rhys’ ass, wrenching impatient moans from the younger man. He fetched the lube from a drawer and dribbled a liberal amount over the younger man’s ass, lubing up his cock at the same time while a shiver went over Rhys.

A breathy laugh escaped Jack as his thumb skirted the younger man’s still-loose hole. “Someone fuck you within an inch of your life last night, baby?” Rhys moaned as Jack pressed his thumb in. “Someone handsome I bet…”

Rhys laughed, a lusty, breathy sound. “Jack please.” He pressed backwards, trying to get more of the older man’s thumb into him.

“Mmm eager, sweetheart? Let daddy take care of you.”

Jack was a little ashamed at how on-edge he already was, his desire to keep playing with Rhys warring with the desire to get his rocks off. He gave the younger man a smack to the ass that stole a sound from Rhys’ lips that made Jack chuckle. He then slicked up his cock and worked the tip in, wrenching a satisfied moan from the man under him. He pulled back only to work himself further, inch by inch as Rhys sighed in pleasure.

“Ahh yes yes yes,” Rhys spoke quickly, pressing back to get Jack deeper faster.

Jack bit his lip, the eagerness of the younger man and the novelty of fucking him over his desk for the first time in ages making him closer than he would have liked. He took Rhys’ cock back up in his hand, the short thrusts he gave moving deeper as he already felt his peak rising.

“Ah! Jack that’s so-- mmm….” He was going to come. He was going to come, and embarrassment and the fact that Jack would most likely poke fun at him did not deter his orgasm.

“What, close already?” Jack huffed, his thrusts becoming haphazard as he was quickly reaching his peak. His hand sped up on Rhys’ cock. “It’s like no one’s-- ah-- no one’s been giving you the good stuff-- ah yeah--”

At Jack’s next thrust, Rhys was gripping Jack’s desk for purchase as he was coming in spurts over the hand stroking his cock. The older man was groaning hard as he ground himself against Rhys’ ass, shaking as he released into the younger man.

Rhys laid boneless against the desk as Jack laid heavily upon him, kissing his neck and chuckling. Jack wiped his hand on Rhys’ pants, the younger man murmuring his name in annoyance, but he returned the squeeze Jack gave one of his hands. Jack pulled out with a groan to sit back in his chair, tugging Rhys with him with little mind for his release still leaking out of him.

“Mm a good desk-fuck was just what the boss ordered.”

“We’re a mess, Jack,” Rhys pointed out, though he chuckled and leaned into the older man’s chest. He tucked his soft cock back into his pants, sighing with so much satisfaction it wasn’t even funny.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. No one’s gonna see it from your big new office anyways.”

Rhys snorted. “If you think I’m walking back in these pants, think again.”

Jack snickered and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Well, guess you can just hang out with me and patch this damn hole in my space station.”

A grin took Rhys as he leaned his head back on Jack’s shoulder, exposing an amount of his neck the older man decided to worry with his teeth. It made his voice light with extra satisfaction. “It’s too big just for us, Jack.”

“Excuse you, baby, but just who do you think you’re sitting on top of?” Rhys chuckled, and Jack gave his thigh a pat. “If those idiots in upper management don’t start pulling their weight, we’ll just give you a bigger office and a bigger raise.” Jack huffed under his breath with annoyance. “Those morons better have gotten something done since this morning.”

“...I wouldn’t call the morning a complete waste,” Rhys said, self-pleased with how everything had gone.

“Yeah, well, honeymoon is over, sweetheart. Get that ass up and let’s fix this shit.”

There’d be time for cuddling and all the sweet-shit Rhys knew Jack secretly loved after the security issue was better dealt with. For now though, they had serious work to do.

Rhys rolled his eyes at the quick way Jack was shunting him off, but got himself up with an optimistic smirk.

kofi | ao3

[mindstreason]

“The ship wants me to ask you if you want to go out,” Ghost asked. Having Kitten on board did not stop them from needing to make contact with various agents, but without an active mission that always meant there was downtime. Jal and Enny had already disappeared into one of the cheaper entertainment districts. Morning had gone to meet with the local agent, as well put together as they always were. Both of the engineers would stay on the ship. They usually did. It was their private time with it.

Cat considered this. “Why do you say that the ship wants to know?”

“Because this ship is nosy and likes knowing what we are doing and why,” Ghost answered. Did Cat not realise that ship was a person?

“Does it?” Cat said. He looked so amazed that Ghost realised that Cat had indeed not realised the ship was a person.

“We have to be entertaining or it’ll kill us all,” Ghost joked. Cat’s eyes were so wide that Ghost felt a little bad. “It doesn’t do that anymore,” he assured. “Come on. Come onto the station with me.”

Cat decided to obey, picking up some of the clothes that he had been given. They were all simple, practical things with long sleeves and pockets.

“Put on socks too. And shoes,” Ghost said.

Cat was not used to shoes still, but he had been given cloth shoes with a soft sole that were just comfortable enough. Ghost would have preferred if Cat wore boots, but he would take what he got for now.

“Come on,” Ghost said, and Cat followed.

Getting out into the docks was fine. It wasn’t particularly busy, but as Ghost got into the busier thoroughfares Cat pressed closer and closer. He was not used to being surrounded by a lot of people.

“Come on. It’s fine,” Ghost assured. “Hold onto my arm,” he added, putting Cat’s hand onto his forearm. Cat’s grip was nervous and tight.

“What if I get lost?”

“You will not get lost, you are with me. And even if you did get lost, I would find you,” Ghost said. Cat would not tolerate a long walk, he knew, so he stopped at the first restaurant that looked like it wouldn’t poison them. He negotiated for a little table in a corner.

Cat flicked through the menu screen, frowning.

“You can have anything you like,” Ghost said, then realised that the problem was that Cat couldn’t read. He flicked through the language settings until he found the version of the menu that was just pictures and prices. It did not seem to help.

“You should pick.”

It did not take long for Ghost to realise that Cat wasn’t being difficult on purpose: he seemed to genuinely have no idea how to make a choice. Ghost ordered a set meal for two consisting of multiple dishes. Cat seemed immediately happier as soon as choosing was no longer an option. They would need to work on that.

It turned out that Cat was not keen on soup, but was fascinated by fried little cylinders of pastry filled with vegetables. The noodles managed to be both too salty and too spicy, but Cat was fascinated enough by that to enjoy them anyway. He liked dumplings so much that Ghost ordered extra ones, just to watch Cat’s face as he tried all the different combinations of vegetables and spices. Most it appeared that Cat liked things that were fried until very crispy.

“Ghost, can I ask you questions?” Cat asked, clearly in a more confident mood after being fed junk food.

“Yes,” Ghost answered. “Whatever questions you like.”

“Why are people looking at us so much?” Cat asked.

“It looks a lot like I stole you,” Ghost answered lightly. Cat blinked in bafflement. “Things like you. Are either owned by very rich people, or are very expensive prostitutes.” It was not just Cat’s appearance – it was mostly the mannerisms. The way that he sat very neatly to try to not take up too much space. How attentively he looked at Ghost. How warily he kept away from other people.

“Ghost, who owns me now?” Cat asked. “Is it the architect?”

“No one owns you now,” Ghost said.

Cat stared. “But who will look after me?” he asked, very quietly.

“We will look after you for now,” Ghost assured. Cat would need to learn to look after himself. It would take time. It always did.

“What will happen to me?” Cat asked, worried.

“Nothing bad. When we get home, we will find out what you are good at and what you want to learn, and we will work out how you will be the most useful.”

“But what if I’m useless?”

“No one is useless. But it is sometimes more difficult to find what a person is suited for,” Ghost accepted.

“What are you for?” Cat asked. He was far better at asking questions these days.

“I am a combat engineer,” Ghost answered readily. “Mostly I break into places and hack their security systems.” It was the simplest explanation he could give, and the only one that Cat was likely to understand.

“What are Jan and Enny?” Cat asked.

“They are soldiers tuned to each other. It makes them work better together.”

“Did they want that?” Cat asked curiously.

“Yes,” Ghost answered. “They chose to be together. That they are so well suited to each other makes them better at their work.”

“Why is the ship called As Substantial As A Blade of Light, I Cut?”

“Because it wanted to be.”

Cat seemed perplexed by that. “Why is the architect called Last Stars of the Morning?”

“It is a summary of their full name. We usually just call them Morning. You can too.”

“Oh.”

Ghost noted that Cat did not ask about either of the engineers. Probably uncomfortable with them. Many people like Cat were. It took a while to learn that time with an engineer was a good thing. It was interesting to watch Cat trying to learn these very simple things.

“Would you like my dessert too?” Ghost offered. Cat had looked so cheered up at the appearance of the sorbet, even though it was all fake flavouring and excessive sweetener. When Cat looked paralysed at the idea of expressing a preference, he pushed it over. “Finish that, and then we’ll walk back.”

[jennawynn]

The Last of Us

I just finally got to play through the game and DLC (I might have accidentally played the game in one 12 hour sitting, and the DLC the next morning) and I have Thoughts I thought I’d share here too. Spoilers for both (and some for The Walking Dead in all its various media).

I love my potty-mouthed zombie killing daughter. I love that nobody ever tells her to stop swearing. I love that she’s a little fucking badass. I love the snark. (I also love Ashley Johnson but that’s another story.) I fucking LOVED the part where she broke David’s finger. “Ellie.” “What?” “Tell them Ellie is the little girl WHO BROKE YOUR FUCKING FINGER!” 

Riley and Ellie are so cute too. Were. Boo. But man that was some good stuff. The way they danced around the issue and eventually the reveal.. it was all so well-executed. I couldn’t remember if I had heard that it was canon or subtext, but it turned out that I didn’t need to have the forewarning because it was all so well-built. Even knowing how it would turn out, it was hopeful. It was also a nice look into her backstory- how is it a girl who has never been outside managed to learn how to drive a truck and ride a horse and shoot a gun? Oh... because she was in training to be a soldier. 

The biggest thing that struck me, though, besides how much I loved Ellie and her relationships with Joel and Riley, was how the story was ‘shot’. I just finished a complete replay of Telltale’s TWD series and there are some similarities to be had- both are about ‘zombie’ apocalypses, the fall of civilization, the struggle to survive when it’s not just the infected but also people unchained by morality and law that you have to deal with. The biggest difference between the two is what they show. 

The Walking Dead, in all its iterations- tv, comic, game- is torture/gore porn. It’s about showing that guy’s brains leaking out of his skull or what the inside of a person’s body looks like. There are long, lingering shots of the grotesque way people die whether it’s being ripped apart by hungry walkers or shot through the eye with an arrow. It’s the same way in print- a big image of Glenn’s head- and in the Telltale game (how many times did we have to see Carver’s face after Kenny was done taking a crowbar to it?). The Telltale aesthetic isn’t even that good at rendering the gore, but they still show you the weird malformed hamburger patty. 

There’s a bit in tLoU where Ellie takes a machete to a dude’s head. She hacks and hacks and hacks in a tearful rage until Joel stops her but it never once shows us the aftermath. Instead, after Joel calms her, they walk out and the camera pans to a bloody machete- an implication, but no shattered skull, leaking brains, or popped eyes. At the end of Left Behind, you know what’s about to happen. You know Riley dies. Not only that, but you’re reasonably certain that Ellie has to kill her when she turns, otherwise how did she not get ripped to pieces? But they don’t make you watch. They give you the line echoed from the main game, the callback to the way they chose to go out and they roll credits. There’s no drawn out demand to watch Ellie shoot her best friend and almost girlfriend. There’s no need to show what Riley looked like when she wasn’t Riley anymore. There’s no need to linger over Riley’s dead body.

When there are extra violent scenes that include Ellie, it’s almost always showing Ellie as being a badass rather than making her the victim. 

Similarly, there’s not a lot of excess or sexual violence done to women in the game. Violence is part of the genre, and the game does have a lot of it, but it’s not sexualized the way a lot of games are. There’s a scene where a group of hunters has a body strapped to the front of their truck to show they’re Bad Guys, but it’s a fully clothed person, not a naked woman on display. A guy makes a passing reference about Ellie being David’s new ‘pet’ but when he makes his move on her, it’s with implication and a hand touch, not by actually sexualizing a 14 year old girl. The word rape was only used once as far as I noticed and that was just a vague threat of ‘if you’re outside the walls, you’ll probably be raped and murdered,’ not ever an actual thing we were forced to witness or have threatened to us. Even with David, the threat was more about being eaten than being raped. Considering how many people consider rape to be the best way to show who the Bad Guys are, it’s sad that it’s such a departure from the norm that it stood out to me. 

It’s strange to think about a compassionate lens for filming a violent, apocalyptic video game, but tLoU did it well. 

[goldhacklordsmobiles]

Lords Mobile Gems Hack

Lords Mobile Hack chipping away at all gadgets

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Subsequent to spending about 100€ every month I chose to discover a way how I can have a fabulous time on Lords Mobile, getting loads of gems and spending no single euro. Perhaps I ought to have do it prior, yet I just couldn't envision that there is something like a Lords Mobile Hack which can really give you boundless gems, gold and different gems you need in Lords Mobile. I mean playing Lords Mobile without gems and gold can truly suck. Everything is progressively fun when you have bunches of Lords Mobile gems! In any case, where would I be able to discover it? I was seeking numerous hours. I looked at Youtube and furthermore Facebook. There were tons shabby fakes going around. Some of them even requested my email and facebook secret word. It was totally ludicrous, yet the pitiful truth is that there are really individuals who are truly giving their email address and secret phrase to them. Completely insane.

This time I needed to choose. Will I proceed burn through the entirety of my cash for Lords Mobile Juwelen Hack, gold and different gems? Or then again simply completing a fast one moment review and download the Lords Mobile Generator. I settled on the correct choice. I never lament to download this mind boggling Lords Mobile Hack Deutsch.

Indeed, I asked some folks from my Clan and they gave me the connection of a site. I looked at it, read the surveys, the remarks, and the video, etc and I found that this Lords Mobile Hack Tool could truly work. It appears to be so genuine to me and when it came to download the Lords Mobile Hack apk it was anything but difficult to utilize. There was only one thing which irritated me. I needed to complete a study to download the Lords Mobile Generator.

[hacklordsmobiler]

Cheats and Hacks for Lords Mobile

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This is the ideal arrangement on the best way to Hack Lords Mobile and get every one of the gems. The Lords Mobile Hack Deutsch is doing some incredible things for you.

Hello folks! My name is Tom and I am a 17 years of age kid from Netherlands. One of my diversions is to make web based recreations. I play all sort of diversions, however generally MMORPGS like Runes of Magic, some of the time likewise program amusements. Since there are all the Facebook recreations I additionally began to play them. At first I played Farmville, at that point Cityville and now Lords Mobile. There was only a little issue… I spent an excessive amount of cash for Lords Mobile gems. I think every one of these amusements and particularly Lords Mobile just need your best: YOUR MONEY.

In the wake of spending about 100€ every month I chose to discover a way how I can have a fabulous time on Lords Mobile, getting heaps of gems and spending no single euro. Possibly I ought to have do it prior, however I just couldn't envision that there is something like a Lords Mobile Hack which can really give you boundless gems, gold and different gems you need in Lords Mobile. I mean playing Lords Mobile without gems and gold can truly suck. Everything is increasingly fun when you have bunches of Lords Mobile gems! However, where might I be able to discover it? I was looking numerous hours. I looked at Youtube and furthermore Facebook. There were tons shoddy fakes going around. Some of them even requested my email and facebook secret phrase. It was completely silly, yet the pitiful truth is that there are really individuals who are truly giving their email address and secret key to them. Completely insane.

This time I needed to choose. Will I proceed burn through the entirety of my cash for Lords Mobile Juwelen Hack, gold and different gems? Or on the other hand simply completing a fast one moment overview and download the Lords Mobile Generator. I settled on the correct choice. I never lament to download this amazing Lords Mobile Hack Deutsch.

All things considered, I asked some folks from my Clan and they gave me the connection of a site. I looked at it, read the surveys, the remarks, and the video, etc and I found that this Lords Mobile Hack Tool could truly work. It appears to be so genuine to me and when it came to download the Lords Mobile Hack apk it was anything but difficult to utilize. There was only one thing which irritated me. I needed to complete a review to download the Lords Mobile Generator.

[fat-satyr]

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || x 

 A short story I patched together for my creative writing class. I liked it enough to keep it, considering it details a bit of lore between some characters here and there.

Title: Sanguine Characters: Beryth Draghici, Konstantin Vladisav, Vanithas Word Count (Total): 6,321 Word Count (Current Part): 1,397 Warnings: Weird, supernatural gore-adjacent stuff, family issues, emotional manipulation.

And a grand night it had certainly been.

Beryth was awakened by the sharp feeling of Marcovici’s boot granting him a swift kick to the ribs, his pale eyes flying open as he yelled out in utter agony. He rolled over in an equally groggy and defensive manner, hacking up a bit of blood as he tried to put a healthy amount of distance between them. When he looked up, he noticed that the pulsating orb of ectoplasm was still present, but it… Seemed as though it fell dormant.

“Why do you speak to me as if you know me, beast?” He spat out, wiping the excess blood away from the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” came Marcovici’s haughty reply. Another shimmer overtook his form, and the once caramel-colored strands of his hair began to reveal that they were a dark shade of obsidian—even the structure of his face began to contort, his eyes becoming more almond-shaped and his lips drawing into a thin line. A small beauty mark dotted the left corner of his mouth, which ended up contorting into a sickening grin. “Certainly Sir Draghici remembers the one he ruled beside for so long, no?”

Beryth felt like he’d just been kicked in the ribs again despite the space he’d made between them. The way that the illusion dropped from the vampire’s very being was like watching the curtain in a theatre fall, but instead of the pleasant feeling one might experience at the end of a good show, he only felt distraught.

"Konstantin?” He squeaked out, his eyes widened to a ridiculous degree.

"Who else?” The newly renamed man laughed cruelly. “I’m surprised you even remembered me…” He gave way to a pout but ended up shaking his head. “Though, I digress. Have you had the chance to meet my darling little treasure?”

He moved his hand back in an incredulous gesture, his clawed fingers all pointing towards the foul-looking thing behind him. There was a subtle shift in the magical energy that surrounded the lot of them, and with a blinding flash of light, the sac let out a tremendous, deafening roar and split open. The sound was disgusting and meaty, but what emerged wasn’t as awful as one would assume. At first, it appeared to be an angelic being, but as the moon bathed their pale face in her softest light, another revelation was made in Beryth’s mind. Their blonde hair framed their face, the moonlight illuminating the back of it like a halo around their head. They stood at a height that was much shorter than Beryth’s if he were standing upright, but the slightest glimpse at their hollow black eyes was enough to freeze his thoughts in his tracks. They canted their head to the side, placing one finger to their lips in a “shushing” motion as they glided across the floor and came to stand between the two men, soon placing their arms behind their back. Tendrils of ectoplasm reached out and caressed the androgynous figure, placing a set of threatening horns on their head and a pair of folded wings at their back. Both were made of fluid, pulsating blood given solid form.

But to Beryth, the shape of their face was unmistakable—even if their eyes were blacked out as his own had been mere moments before. The stranger that had come into his home so many years ago resembled them in near-perfect mimicry, but… No, this couldn’t be them.

"The heir of the Draghici family crawls back to Traguca after following the scent trail I left for him to follow.” Their voice was a dead-ringer to him. It sounded disappointed, to boot. “Do you think you’re smart? Were the implanted emotions not enough to keep you away from this accursed place, boy?”

Such harsh words inflicted an internal wound on the hunter as he placed his hand to his chest. His short-lived denial had been shot down in an instant as numerous questions bubbled in his mind. Was everything he experienced fabricated? His passion, his drive, his sadness, all of it? No, no, no!

"Worry not, Vanithas,” Konstantin reassured the demon, waving a hand in their direction, “His stubborn attitude has been knowledge of mine for many, many years. It’s no surprise that he stepped so boldly into failure, even without your influence.”

"Don’t speak of me as though I’m not here.” Beryth demanded lowly, his tone slipping to a growl.

"And why shouldn’t I? Vanithas gave you a gift, but you chose to follow the foolish path instead of the righteous one.” Konstantin inspected the underside of his nails.

"A gift?” Beryth hatefully questioned, "You would call what that creature gave me a gift?”

"Of course it is. Must I explain everything?” Konstantin groaned, rolling his eyes as he flicked his wrist towards Beryth. “Vanithas. You take care of him.”

The demon obediently turned toward Beryth, outstretching their arm as silvery threads sprouted from their fingertips. These bound the hunter to the ground despite his fervent protests and heavy breathing; his struggle was futile, especially as Vanithas glided towards him as they had done the night they had met. The hand not sprouting thread touched Beryth’s forehead again, but this time, he didn’t pass out. He felt every emotion at once crashing into him like a wave, and the blood that coursed through his veins made him feel as though his entire body was on fire. He twitched and writhed in absolute misery as the illusory glimmer overtook his own body, revealing the whites of his albino eyes to be black and rendering his canines much longer than they should have been. His nails and ears came to a fresh point, the tips of the claws themselves almost ripping through the measly fabric gloves he wore.

He arched his back as the transformation slowed, his screams dying out as he flopped down against the cold marble once again. Sweat beaded on his brow, mingling with the strands of his pristine white hair as he slipped over to his side and clutched his gut in agony.

"Come now. No self-respecting progenitor should scream like a little girl,” Konstantin egged with an awful grin, “You’ve got something to be proud of for once in your miserable life.”

Despite the crippling pain he had felt only seconds before, the comment on pride really lit a fire within Beryth. His limbs trembled fiercely as he quickly picked himself up and made a beeline for Konstantin—he wasn’t sure of what would happen when he hit him, but he knew that he needed to at least try—and that plan was immediately thwarted as he became aware of a sudden pressure on his chest. He felt his ribs cracking before he realized what was going on, and by the time he’d been flung across the ballroom to make a heavy impact with the distant wall, he was seeing double. Konstantin had one of his hands balled into a fist, his damning gaze fixated on his wretched body.

"Doing this will get you nowhere.” He stated flatly, his once jovial and theatrical voice taking a dramatic turn, “You have the blood of nobility in your veins, and yet you deny your gift? The demon took pity on you when they first saw you and gave you the means to do as you desired, and yet you—” he trailed off, gritting his teeth. “I had at least hoped to keep you distracted until I could learn to control my temper, but alas…” He took off the glove of the hand he’d punched Beryth with, rubbing his knuckles soothingly, “… I don’t have time for someone with the mind of a child pretending to be a knight. Come and find me again when you’ve learned how to properly duel, at least.”

Once again, Beryth couldn’t get a word in. Even his advanced regeneration wasn’t fast enough to get him in working order by the time Konstantin disappeared in a puff of shadow and Vanithas did the same, leaving him alone with the corpses of those he’d sworn to protect. He knew what Vanithas had given him on that fateful night when he said he’d do anything for his family and his people, but he didn’t want to use this curse for a goal that was so pure in meaning.

No monster could ever become a hero, could they?

[matthewivezaj]

How likely are you to get hacked? Cyber security and you

Equifax is a name that is popping up now and then because of their poor cyber security habits and irresponsibility they have shown to their clients, also adding to the list of organizations are names such as Target, Yahoo, JP Morgan, and Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center. Honestly, everyone is vulnerable to an attack, no matter what you do, how skilled you are, or however high your IQ is *clear throat Trump * excuse me, where did that come from. As 4-star Admiral Michael Rogers, Director of the NSA, leader of its Military components, the Central Security Service, and Commander of United States Cyber Command has said, “Vulnerability is an inherent nature of the technical world that we live in today, and if your desire is to live in a world without vulnerability, I would say that is probably highly unlikely”. A common bad habit that many people practice is using a “weak” password, in respects, passwords should be at minimum of 12 characters in length, they should include a combination of; numbers, letters, and special symbols; using a different password for everything, and please remember that a password should be kept up here (point to head), not written down on a sticky note. While browsing the web, do make sure to check to see if the lock emblem is in the address bar to ensure of a site’s secure connection, configuring routers can allow for access for your IP address only, using VPNs, Using wired LANs vs wireless LANs, it does not hurt to search up cyber security news to keep yourself informed on particular topics, and with that, a plethora of other things that I won’t get into now, those are just your basics to staying semi-safe. Ivezaj 2 Many of you probably think of hackers as bad, but not all hackers are bad, here are the main categories of hackers; Black hats, which are the ones that commit crimes such as robbing a bank; Grey hats, were black hats, now consider themselves turned, but are still loose cannons; red hats, who act as security consultants whom serve the roles of hacking/penetration testing; Blue hats, who are part of a firm outside of the organization that conduct attacks on a system before the launch; Suicide hackers, these individuals are so driven that they will sacrifice everything to complete the mission at hand, whether hacking the political system, operating a terrorist heist, or personal gain; White hats, who are the good cyber professionals whom serve to protect, bringing the fight to push back criminals, aka ethical hackers. Then each member of one of those groups are sub-divided in 3 categories of their own, based on skill set; Script kiddies, who rely on programs to do their hacking and have no idea what is going on in the background; Intermediate hackers, whom of which understand some of the concepts that are going on in the background, but like the script kiddies, still rely on programs; Elitists, these are the professionals who often write programs for the script kiddies and intermediate hackers to use in their attacks, these people can hack someone and make it look like someone else did it. The way they make it look like someone else has committed the hack is through MAC (Media Access Control) address Spoofing, which changes your devices physical IP address on the NIC (Network Interface Card). Ivezaj 3 A MAC address is a sequence of 6 octets of 2 characters containing a combination of letters between A through F and/or numbers (different than IPv4 which has 4 octets containing 3 digits in each octet except that an IPv4 address can be out of 32 bits in size (2^32), containing 4,294,967,296 IPv4 addresses, IPv6 which are 8 octets of 4 characters, a combination of letters and numbers, following the same rules that a MAC address is limited to, and is 128-bits which can contain 240,282,366,920,938,463,463,374,607,431,768,211,456 (that is over 240 octotrigintillion) IPv6 addresses; IPv4 communicate with IPv6 through dual stack configuration, for those of you wondering). Now this is pretty interesting, MAC address spoofing is also used to gain privileges of the intended device which you spoofed. Now, a pretty interesting thing that I learned back in the fall is that you can spoof a MAC address belonging to a device from home to use your cables internet on the go, provided the device is turned on, however keep in mind, it does suck that we can hit our usage caps at about 20-30%, however there is a way to broadcast your own Wi-Fi using a modem, router, switch/hub, and a few other components, which would make cable pointless because you could just use a Roku, firestick, or one of those types of devices for free TV with your self-broadcasted Wi-Fi (however there maybe are a few components missing from that and one of my Old Professors said he would let me know what those are when he gets time), though you did not hear that from me. Another plus to MAC spoofing is when you get IP blocked for entering many incorrect passwords which I know that many if not all of us do at times, if you spoof your mac address, your physical IP address changes, causing the system to think another computer is connected from a different location, allowing you to try again. Lastly it is a useful technique that works by keeping yourself anonymous online. Ivezaj 4 An example of a notable hacker (AKA hacktivist) that did not use his abilities for evil is Aaron Swartz, who fought to make the world a better place by allowing all excess of information to flow freely, here is a quote from Aaron “Information is power. But like all power, there are those who want to keep it for themselves. The world’s entire scientific and cultural heritage, published over centuries in books and journals, is increasingly being digitized and locked up by a handful of private corporations.” In case you don’t know Aaron, here are some facts about him, at age 12 he created a website named “The Info”, which is the precursor to Wikipedia and that won him the first-place prize from ARS Digita, At age 13, Aaron helped to Co-Author RSS, lastly at age 19 he Co-founded Reddit, making him a millionaire. Aaron was charged with 13 counts of wire fraud, all for trying to make information free and accessible for all. His crime was sneaking into an MIT closet and downloading a bunch of free journal articles to release to the public, this involved MIT, JSTOR, and Aaron. Charges from JSTOR, whom suffered the most damage had been dropped, MIT stubbornly stood their ground even though they did not face real damage, plus MIT supports hacking. The Attorney General of Massachusetts had incurred charges on him, namely Stephen Heymann, the assistant Attorney General, he compared Swartz to a notable hacker of the name Jonathon James, who at 15 hacked into the department of defense, he later committed suicide. Aaron was given two plead deals that spanned a few months to a half of a year, he declined them, so, the United States government gave him a final offer of…35 years to make an example of him to all future activists. Aaron hung himself, not from the fear of having his freedom taken away, but because he wanted to serve in the Secret Service and Ivezaj 5 you cannot serve if you have a felony against you, that I know well. I know that he broke the law, making him bad, but his intent was pure. Here is a quote from Elizabeth Warren, the senator that would not have been elected if it were not for Aaron, “When I met Aaron Swartz in 2010, I discovered a young man who was passionate, sharp, a little shy, and, above all, warm and good natured. He seemed like the kind of person who couldn’t hurt a fly — he just had that kind of presence. Aaron made remarkable contributions to our world, and his advocacy for Internet freedom, social justice, and Wall Street reform demonstrated both the power of his ideas and the depth of his commitment. The world is a poorer place without Aaron.” Lastly, Here is a passage that Aaron wrote, “I think deeply about things and want others to do likewise. I work for ideas and learn from people. I don’t like excluding people. I’m a perfectionist, but I won’t let that get in the way of publication. Except for education and entertainment, I’m not going to waste my time on things that won’t have an impact. I try to be friends with everyone, but I hate it when you don’t take me seriously. I don’t hold grudges, it’s not productive, but I learn from my experience. I want to make the world a better place”. I’m sure that many of you have heard of Aaron, you may not remember it now, however, the night of January 11 th 2013, social media blew up with everyone paying respects to Aaron, I chose to talk about Aaron because I believed he offered a lot to the world, and in a lot of respects, I find that we are very similar in our thought process, and look pretty similar in terms of appearance, also, at least that is what I am told. In conclusion, the future is bright for those who wish to journey in the realm of Cyber Security, with according to many news organizations, around 1.5million jobs predicted in the United States, and according to organizations such as Forbes, 6 million predicted unfilled spots Ivezaj 6 by 2019, globally. Especially for women, I honestly think that the world of Cyber would look a lot better if there were more women in the ranks of the Cyber Security lineage, because women only make up around 10% of Cyber at the moment and bringing more of a variety to the field is in great need. Here is another quote from Adm. Rogers, “So to me, I urge people look, don’t be intimidated by the technical aspects, don’t be intimidated by this is different in some ways than the traditional fields some of us have experienced, because I argue, Cyber is an operational domain in which we do a variety of…missions and functions, many of which are very traditional, we do Reconnaissance, we do fires, we do maneuvers, we have key terrain, all of those things that I was constantly going back, hey, how can we frame this in a way that brings a broader sense of recognition and makes it easier to integrate this, don’t make this thing so special and so unique that it just gets pushed to the side, that will sub optimize our ability to perform cyber operations and negatively impact, at least in my view anyway, the operational outcome, which is the whole reason we are doing this in the first place, if it doesn’t have operational outcome, it is a waste of time and a waste of an investment”, and it goes on for a while, I just wanted to include that. Some important topics in Cyber that I think to go over are understanding; Linux for everything is Cyber because it is used to conduct administrative control in networks, is used in routers, a ton of programming resources, free support, accounts for over 70% of the worlds servers, a false statement that some say is that Linux is less secure than windows because of vulnerabilities, which is undeniably false, but if that were actually the case, why would Edward Snowden have used Linux Tailes to evade the NSA during the time that he did? Linux users are also monitored by the NSA in further depth, using Tailes automatically gets you marked as an extremist. Once malware gets on a windows system it can automatically spread Ivezaj 7 to every other file on the partition, whereas in Unix like operating systems like Linux, stops at individual packages, because Linux breaks programs down into packages and Windows offers them as bundled suite; I think that you should also know, IP protocols, configuring routers for security, everything on IP addresses/subnets, SSH commands, utilities, probably learning how to use SSL and TLS connections to a server and to encrypt/decrypt messages (with terminal or command prompt, whatever your weapon of choice is), understanding ports, and a variety of other things, I’m not going to bore any of you any further however. Work Cited Ivezaj 8 Rogers, Michael “NSA Chief Adm. Mike Rogers asked about Apple vs. FBI, encryption “, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9miS0fwmdE, 5 April 2016. Swartz, Aaron Albright, Jane “How likely are you to get hacked? Cyber security and you” http://www.wral.com/how-likely-are-you-to-get-hacked-cyber-security-and-you/17266197 18 January 2018. Warren, Elizabeth “Aaron Swartz’s Suicide Triggers Response from Top U.S. Lawmakers http://business.time.com/2013/01/16/aaron-swartzs-suicide-triggers-response-from-us- lawmakers/

[fantastictidalwavebanana-blog]

Artistic Value in Video Games

I have needed to discuss this for quite a while, yet couldn't discover the words to express what is on my mind. I have seen  Roblox Hack   articles and news stories throughout the years about how school shootings and brutal youngsters are because of rough computer games. No genuine proof or research to back it up, yet I can't get furious over this. They say that they are only an a piece of cake thing, reject it, and say that there is nothing positive that leaves playing recreations. Each age individuals discover a remark for all the awful conduct of kids. Individuals would accuse books, workmanship, motion pictures, music, and right now video diversions are in the last place anyone would want to be. All types of media and workmanship experience this before  roblox hack online  being known for the esteem that they provide for society. Amusements let you encounter the inventiveness that can be attracted from all types of craftsmanship. You are the person who pushes the story that could have been perused from a page, you settle on the choices that on-screen character is coordinated to make, you encounter the landscape that could be seen from an artwork, and you are the person who encounters the music that is made for the diversion.  roblox hack online  Every one of these kinds of workmanship are united to make an ordeal that, if done accurately, can last with individuals for eternity.

I recall that I as playing a diversion called Fallout 3 and I was given a decision. I could incapacitate a bomb for a town for some coin or explode the bomb, alongside the town, for more coin .  roblox hack online  Since I settled on the choice to spare the town last time I played this time I chose to perceive how the diversion would switch on the off chance that I exploded the bomb. After the blast I returned to where the town used to be. There was one solitary survivor. She had no clue that I exploded the town and she was as yet her sprightly self simply appreciative that I got out in time. Presently I know she survived on the grounds that she gives journeys in the diversion, however that minute stayed with me. This desolate young lady who had been physically changed because of the blast and the radiation. I have never experienced lament in such a solid route before this minute. I needed to come back to a past spare, yet couldn't do as such. I just sat there for some time  roblox hack online  and gazed at the screen taking a gander at what my activities have caused and in that solitary minute I was playing in excess of a diversion. I was encountering something else. Something that I had never experienced. Diversions can be something other than an a piece of cake thing or a thing to kill time. It can express innovativeness and feeling like some other incredible masterpiece.

[what-soul]

My life story

I was born November 10, 1995 at 2:03 AM in Baltimore, Maryland. From what I can remember from my dad's "birthday story", nothing too significant happened. My parents were in their early 20s and I'm fairly sure they weren't prepared for the financial responsibility, because I've been told they sold my mom's CD collection and we ate PB&J and other filler staple foods. I'm pretty sure that's why I can't stand the idea of a PB&J sandwich - I had too many as a kid. We lived in Ducketts Lane in Elkridge, soon joined by some of my cousins who I grew up with. I remember a nasty, broken toilet in a basement with wood paneling and willow trees off in the corner. There was only 3-story townhouses there.

Ginny was born, and my dad realized that if he wanted to be in the military, he had to join before he had more than 2 kids. So he was at training camp when Katie was born, doing crazy stuff like swimming with 50 lb backpacks and running through chemical fumes without a mask. We moved around during this time, I think to Tennessee and Kentucky? I have no memories beyond a pre-K daycare (where I made a scarecrow with brads for joints) and the neighbors having those electric kid-sized cars.

In Kindergarten I went to Rockburn Elementary at 4, due to Maryland's strange age cutoff at the time. All I remember was that our class was near the entrance, the room was big and empty in the middle, and a caterpillar once pooped on my hand while I was admiring it on the playground. I don't remember anyone from the class. First grade is a blank, but second grade...

The second grade area was a bunch of dynamic classrooms with vibrantly colored sliding walls and a larger central area where we could buy lunch. They offered either a special that day or pizza, but I usually brought a packed lunch. I remember playing mandala with a tomboy of a black girl who scraped her knee once and showed us how it was getting puss. That's where I met Nicholas Eagles, who was my best friend for the year. I'd go over to his house every week or two where we played the pokemon card game and some Nintendo games. He had a pogo stick, but I couldn't figure out how to use it. At one point, we climbed up the big evergreens in his front yard and I fell, getting caught by branches a couple feet below. He once admitted that he thought I was gross when he first met me, though I don't know why.

Then we moved to Pennsylvania for my third year in school. I don't remember our house but I remember the area. It was next to a small pond with cattails and the backyard led to a huge patch of undeveloped land. We found some kids playing there far away, and I became friends with the older brother who enjoyed hacking together weird electronics. There I got into Yugioh. Ginny's hermit crab died and we had a fancy funeral for it, complete with a coffin made of mud bricks molded from legos. Our parents bought a wooden playground, I think?

I don't remember much from school, just some event snippets. Bits of hallways filled with seasonal candles in bags, monthly school events like a Jim Henson style play about how drugs are bad, an uninviting cafeteria... I know I was called "booger boy" for picking my nose, but I've lost the emotional context. According to my parents, I had problems with my teachers because the Pennsylvania 3rd grade curriculum was the same as the Maryland 2nd grade curriculum, and I liked to be the teacher's pet. I'd raise my hand for every question because I always knew the answer and wanted to say it, which annoyed the teachers because they wanted the other kids to have a chance. School was apparently bad enough that we moved at the end of the year to West Virginia.

I had started the gifted program in 2nd grade, but I remember absolutely nothing from then. For 3rd grade, I remember I was called out of class some days of the week to go to a room for a gifted class, but don't remember anything. For 4th grade, all I remember was the room we went to and that I had a very hard time with math and remembering the names of shapes.

It was Shepherdstown Elementary School, and we mostly did stuff in the 4th-5th grade hallway, which I remember very well. The walls were lined with lockers and there were... 6? classes total. In 4th grade I only remember an older teacher I had for English, in which we read Roald Dahl books. I think she was a hardass but I have no especially bad memories of her.

In 5th grade I had M(r)s. Lawrence at least, and Mr. Ebersol for gifted. I remember my friends better for this time than in 4th, even though they're probably the same. They were all in gifted for some reason. There was Levi Spickler, who was more of a rival than a friend. Sam Yates, a girl with bushy brown hair who hated chocolate and loved zucchini bread. Arlo, he was best friends with Levi and a very funny and sociable kid. His hair was perpetually messy, like a big brown afro almost. The only thing I distinctly remember from him was a joke he started saying "je veux une omelette du fromage", which is French for "I want a cheese omelette". No idea why that was funny, if it was. Then there was Merideth, an athletic girl who was a bit of an early bloomer.

Most of my memories were from the gifted class. We once acted out commercials, including one, "Don't be sad, get GLAD for all your kitchen garbage needs!" We would enact plays such as A Midsummer Night's Dream. Or even write our own plays; one Levi wrote included a joke that flew completely over my head about a girl being "rapped on the head", to which everyone started knocking on the table with their knuckles.

In Ms. Lawrence's class we once made our own peanut butter chocolate candies for Halloween... That's all I got.

From 6th to 8th I was in Sheperdstown Middle School, less than a mile away from the Elementary School. I remember the layout of the building fairly well, but there are some fuzzy areas. It was mostly one long hallway going left and right from the entrance with some hallways jutting out from the forward direction. I remember Ms. Carter, a science teacher who adored me. She was a very large red-head who liked to wear excessive make-up and had a Ms. Frizzle vibe to her teaching methods. By this point I loved science, so I relished in raising my hand for every question. She eventually made a running joke out of it, saying she needed to call "1-800 dial a Robert!"

Next to Ms. Carter's room was a ramp down into a secluded area with a few classrooms, one of which was my... history class, and somewhere in that area was my sign language class. Or was it English? Gifted class was in a hallway directly in front of the entrance with Mrs. Wagner across the hall from the touch typing classroom. I mostly remember learning English, particularly the roots of words.

Then there was Mr... Marcin? An older science teacher who had a very dry, even cynical sense of humor but seemed to genuinely care about his job. And Mrs... Tracey? The 8th grade science teacher. I remember the cafeteria very well, as well as the gym - it was burned into my brain by the Pacers, an exercise we did twice a week where we'd run from one side of the gym to the other with increasing frequency.

In the 7th grade, my parents divorced. From what I can gather, my mom had caught my dad cheating multiple times, and then my dad caught her cheating with my stepdad. Of course, these were symptoms and the official explanation. Underlying that were personality incompatibilities, my mom's stress from generalized anxiety disorder without medication and raising 4 kids vs my dad's stress working a billion minimunm wage jobs just to support us. Abandonment issues, personal insecurities, projection, the works.

I know that when they announced it, they sat us all on the couch and told us about it very seriously. I barely remember it, but the memory paints it as feeling like a dream. From there, my mom moved into the basement while she found work (she was laid off) and housing while my dad bought a dog (Zoey) to fill the void. Eventually my mom moved to a rinky-dink apartment and later to a nice townhouse, and we went to each parent's house in shifts over the week.

9th grade... Was at Shepherdstown Highschool. I remember the cafeteria, a taller guy I was friends with, the entrance being near the library. That's all.

At this point my dad was laid off from his job as a professor at some university. In searching for another professor position, he had the option of going to New Mexico or Wyoming; he chose the former. After a few months of convincing, I decided to move out with him over the Summer for the opportunity of going to a good school and good college.

The time I spent from 10-12th grade blurs together. I remember quite a few teachers and classmates, but not when and where I knew them. The teachers I remember are my Spanish teacher (native speaker), Ms. McCoy (art teacher), Mr. B? (Chemistry teacher, very eccentric), Mr. Smith (science and CS teacher), Mr. DeWitt (AP Biology, he had extreme standards), and the dreaded Mr. Evans. Hello, yes? He tried to fail me out of high school by demanding that I not be allowed to take a replacement English class to substitute the grade I got in his.

The people I knew, I knew only some names and the rest were archetypes. Al of course, Ryan Sun (an asian guy who took it upon himself to become my rival, which unintentionally became a kind of bullying as I was too depressed to cope). For some reason I remember Kim Wong, another asian girl who was always near the top of the class. And Stephanie, I think her last name was something like Dijkstra, who I think was even better at programming than I was. Beyond them, the archetypes I remember were * a crazy-fun drug supplier who had some issues with her parents * a larger hispanic guy who had a very negative vibe and introduced me to Johnny the Homicidal Maniac * one girl from art who was like 7 feet tall but had normal proportions, so she looked like a mini-giant

At the same time, I was going to UNM for dual-enrollment, mostly math. My relationship with my dad was deteriorating; teen angst, stress from moving, depression, and lack of mutual understanding. Eventually he relented to getting me a therapist, which ended up being a (late) PhD child psychologist. I stopped seeing her when I turned 18 and went into college. To get away from my dad, I moved into the UNM dorms.

Sometime around here was when I got my first job as a student worker. First a temp job moving boxes, then as an IT admin assistant, and finally data entry and call redirection. Over the Summer I got a job with one of my mom's coworkers helping him research hobby electronics so he could make the most of his free time. All of these were full of shame because I didn't feel like I was working hard enough to justify the pay, and they all ended in ways I took personally. At the time they confirmed to myself all of my personal failings and screamed back that I was a loser who couldn't do anything right.

I think this is around the time my mom married my stepdad, and my dad married Kaya for tax reasons. Eventually they separated and Lindsey came in; they married a couple years later. I liked both stepmoms, and had no problem with remarrying. My stepdad however, I didn't dislike, but I found a very large disconnect with him. He clearly didn't enjoy children, and had a difficult time expressing emotions which made him extremely intimidating. There were even some interactions which unintentionally shattered my confidence, as he was a programmer and I thought I could talk to him about that.

College was a blur. I met up with Al again in a sociology class we shared, and through him and his sister Sarah, I made two more friends: Ariel and Tristan. They were the best friends I remember having, though it was mostly through Al. We shitposted about My Little Pony and Arnold Palmer tea. The first semester I passed, barely. I think I failed the next semester and planned to kill myself at the end because I thought my life was ruined. I exploded and told my dad that I hadn't taken any of my antidepressants. I ended up moving back in with my dad. My sisters had moved in by that time. Our relationship only strained more, and I exploded at him telling him "fuck you", to which he kicked me out. I moved in with Tristan.

There my depression stewed. My eczema got especially bad without my topical steroid, and I isolated more and more. Tristan's dad talked to me often about stoicism, philosophy, and project management. He pursued stoicism as his best virtue, taking on all the burdens of the world. When I talked to him, it always felt like he was a diamond under immense pressure that would shatter if the pressure was relieved. It seemed like he was using my stay as an extra mouth to feed to increase the stress he was under on purpose, so I eventually worked up the courage to go back to college.

I think I did one semester, passing barely again. Then at some point, Al realized I was taking the group's sarcastic jibes personally and was codependent on them. He told me he didn't want to be responsible for giving me pain and that we shouldn't be friends. From there, I avoided everyone from that group, going so far as to make large detours to avoid spotting them. I was too afraid to face them any longer. The next semester, I went to the first few classes, then became a hikikomori for the rest of the semester, only leaving my room for food and the bathroom. I didn't want to live, but I didn't have the will to kill myself either.

That state broke when it was revealed that I had failed all my classes. My dad took me back in, with similar tensions. I visited my mom for the Summer and saw a therapist/psychiatrist named Dr. Goodman. She had my half-sister Marlena.

By sheer luck, I got a job as a administration assistant at a company my cousin Alex worked at, Engage. He presented it in terms of reprogramming their database stack, but I knew I wasn't there for that. Still, I insisted on writing scripts to do the extremely tedious job of pressing buttons in the right sequence to print the mailing labels by the thousands. At some point I accidentally managed to fuck up not once, but twice. The first was caught, but the second made it all the way to the post office where they charged a fee for every incorrectly labeled mail, probably costing thousands of dollars. I was let go soon after for personality conflicts and because I wasn't taking my time, doing things too fast so mistakes were easy to make.

I was offered a replacement job in the data entry department, which I was very reluctant to take because I wanted to run away from the whole thing and forget the wild emotions. I got it, learned the ropes, and did that for a couple months during the 2016 election (which made lots of mail), all the while getting less and less stable as I began to see the job as a symbol of my failure as a person. As I saw it, it was the job I was moved to out of pity because any hobo off the streets could deliver identical work, and yet I was still struggling and felt ashamed because no one else had any problems. I ran out of my medications and that spiral plummeted and I felt the need to quit because what work I did on the clock was terrible and I frequently had to clock out to keep from clawing my eyes out. Every day I went in was sheer agony, which I'd compare to mentally tearing off each fingernail one by one. It was exploding with shame, panic, anxiety, fear, self-hatred, and tedium.

Unfortunately no one in my family saw it that way. Everyone seemed to think I just didn't want to do my job because I "didn't like it". I tried to tell them that I "just couldn't" go in anymore, but all I got back was that I have to. I didn't. More shame. It doubly confirmed the fears I already had, that the job was more important than I was. I suffered this pain every day and yet it was more important that I bear it and lose my mind rather than lose the job. Talk about worthless.

Eventually it came to a point where Goodman seemed to think I wasn't depressed and was manipulating my parents into giving me a free ride. My parents expressed their fear that "if I dropped him off at a shelter, I'd never see him again", which stung. I didn't want to live and everyone around me wanted me to work to live no matter the cost. I would thoughtlessly mention euthanization as a viable option. So, she was right to fear that. More shame from being such a failure as to put such responsibility and pain on my parents. That day I spent an hour seriously thinking about killing myself despite my hesitation, reasoning that I was a parasite on my family and the only way to relieve them of my burden was to relieve them of me. Whatever pain I caused by dying would pale in comparison to the pain I'd cause by living. I wondered if any excuse I had against this plan was a selfish desire to continue living in spite of the pain of others. I never went much farther beyond that, though.

Eventually my parents convinced Goodman to send me to Sierra Tucson. There, I learned about trauma, the distinction between shame and guilt, codependency, and the importance of friendship. I felt awakened, as if from a coma, and first time in my life, I enjoyed living for its own sake. I was transferred to Crownview Co-Occurring Institute for Intensive Out-Patient, where I regressed some due to it being a less supportive environment. Still, I learned how to deal with adversity in reality, particularly overcoming my issues with authority, defensiveness, a need to be right all the time, and how to take criticism without taking it personally.

During recovery, Katie had my niece Aurora. Most of the effect of that was from watching how other people reacted and interpreting the underlying reasons. I believe Katie refused an abortion/adoption because she intended to use Aurora to assert her maturity and capacity to be responsible to my dad and Lindsey, who had a tendency to micromanage her which led to teenage rebellion. What's sad about that is I think she lacks self-care emotionally and mentally, and now she won't ever have an opportunity to work on herself because she'll be working on her kid. In trying to appear more mature, she destroyed any chance of reaching maturity healthily. Now she's still struggling to break free of them, seeing all of their "suggestions" (which, to be fair, are stated more as commands) as personal attacks, saying she isn't capable of taking care of her symbol of adulthood.

And now I'm in R&R. I don't know where I'm going from here.

[albtechpress-blog]

3D printing for all: Inside Chicago library's new "fly up producer lab" 3D printers, laser cutters, and processing machines are presently open to the public.

CHICAGO, IL — If you've ever had a craving to experiment with a 3D printer, a laser cutter, or a processing machine without dropping your very own large number hard-earned dollars, the Harold Washington Library in Chicago is the place to be. Beginning today, July 8, Harold Washington has turned into the primary major urban library to open a fly up "creator lab," permitting individuals from the overall population the chance to try different things with the forefront advancements. And keeping in mind that there are as yet a couple wrinkles to resolve before general society can utilize every one of the machines, the Chicago Public Library (CPL) framework is as of now anticipating where this venture will go next.

"There's more buzz about this via web-based networking media than anything we've ever done," CPL's First Deputy Commissioner Andrea Sáenz told Ars.

What precisely is the fly up producer lab? CPL joined forces up with Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry—which is putting forth its own particular producer lab to gallery guests—so as to assemble the program. Not at all like the gallery's lab, nonetheless, the producer space at Harold Washington is totally free and open to general society. Chicago inhabitants will be incited to utilize a library card to get entrance, yet Sáenz revealed to Ars that away guests won't be dismissed on the off chance that they don't have a card of their own.Visitors will in the end have the capacity to make utilization of three MakerBot 2 3D printers, two laser cutters from Inventables, and one processing machine, notwithstanding open source programming on an armada of PCs so individuals can plan their own tasks. In the weeks paving the way to people in general opening, individuals from the CPL and American Library Association staff have been utilizing the machines to make wooden iPhone docks with the processing machine, create their own custom keychains with the laser cutters, and even print a whole chess set with the 3D printers, however they're anxious to perceive what the general population will concoct taking after the dispatch.

"We have our own pre-set thoughts of what individuals will make and what will attract individuals, however we additionally simply need them to be presented to new instruments and innovation," Sáenz said. "In the event that the lab is super famous, there is a probability for a bigger space in this building, or we could take it to another branch where people in that area would have the capacity to utilize that sort of thing."

Harold Washington's producer lab is in only one room on one story of the monstrous downtown library, and it's not lasting. The present give that enables the library to run the space experiences the finish of the year, which means the staff will then need to assess the accomplishment of the venture.

"We can choose if the creator space bodes well for the library, time frame. We'll ask ourselves: does it fit pleasantly into this entire casual learning condition that we're attempting to make?" Sáenz said.

Some of those lessons have as of now originated from littler groups that have introduced comparative producer spaces into their libraries. "They have a tendency to be a little littler scale, as the vast majority of those libraries just bounced ideal in," Sáenz stated, "however we truly took as much time as necessary so we could make sense of what it is about the subject of producer that fits into a library setting."

One such lesson is that the machines are noisy while being utilized—not precisely perfect for a library. Moreover, since some of these machines are generally new innovation (3D printers, we're taking a gander at you), they tend to separate effectively. Truth be told, that is the reason the Harold Washington library chose not to make its three MakerBot printers accessible for open utilize presently, in spite of the buzz around today's dispatch. "That will come soon, however on dispatch day, we'll most likely simply have the MakerBots printing our own undertakings to give individuals a vibe for how they function," the library's head of business, science, and innovation, Mark Andersen, told Ars.

"Our objective was to make our staff sufficiently agreeable with them to settle them," Sáenz said as she depicted a portion of the hacks the staff thought of so as to keep the machines running easily. "I'm almost certain they've progressed toward becoming specialists at re-threading the machines." (Indeed, as somebody who has had admittance to a MakerBot 2 as of late, I can bear witness to their intermittent flakiness.)

Regardless of these difficulties, Sáenz and Andersen trust it was a decent choice to utilize shopper review machines for the lab—and not on the grounds that the give constrained their capacity to spend excessively cash on individual advancements. "We couldn't purchase super costly gear, however it turned out well since we have hardware that is somewhat more liable to be in somebody's home one day," Andersen said. "These are things that a family could purchase today in the event that they needed to spend the cash on it, and we need to show them how to utilize it."

Up until this point, it appears the general population is kicking the bucket to bounce into the lab—educators, teachers, and even entrepreneurs have purportedly been messaging relentless to discover how they can get included. "At the point when school gets back in, we have a couple of secondary teachers and principals who need to utilize that space as a hands-on lab for a class," Sáenz said. She then recounted a tale around a teacher who gotten some information about the yield limit of the creator lab's machines. "In case you're getting some information about limit, you're as of now thinking too huge!"

Maybe the fly up creator lab isn't exactly prepared to begin producing custom chess sets with every one of your companions' appearances on the pawns. In any case, the enthusiasm for doing as such is there, and the library needs to take advantage of it. Said Sáenz, "We truly planned it as a prologue to producer instruments, culture, and economies with the expectation that individuals will proceed all alone."