#capability based programming good

[romerona]

Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

[my-castles-crumbling]

fifteen - june 15 - jegulus - james raising harry - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 612 - based on @ccccatttta 's post!

“Alright, Haz. Fifteen pounds, and that’s it, okay?” James said anxiously, hovering outside of the store door and hanging the crisp notes to his son.

“But Da!” Harry whined, frowning. “What if that’s not enough to get you something pretty?”

Harry had been begging for weeks to get James something for Father’s Day. The problem was, nobody was available to take him to the store, and of course, Harry refused to allow James to go in with him, since that would ‘ruin the surprise.’ So, after much negotiation on Harry’s part and worrying on James’s, they’d settled on a small store in their neighborhood with one way in and out. Harry had fifteen pounds and fifteen minutes. 

“Whatever you can get me with that will be perfect, darling,” James said, smiling at the five-year-old. “Now run quick! We still need to get lunch!”

So, beaming, Harry bolted inside.

And James immediately began biting his fingernails.

It wasn’t that Harry wasn’t capable. James and Lily had raised the young boy to be exceptionally polite, and he was able to use money enough to at least give a store clerk the right amount needed. 

It was the fact that he was doing this alone. Which meant that one, he could face danger and two, he might be capable of doing other things alone and therefore he was growing up and might no longer need James.

Both things were equally terrifying.

But still, James reminded himself that the young boy needed independence, and he had to make sure to give it to him. So he waited, eyes on the time, and allowed his son to peruse the small store.

It was only when ten minutes had gone by that the door opened again and Harry ran out, grinning, tugging a man along behind him with a triumphant look on his little face like he’d just found buried treasure.

“Da! I got you this!” he exclaimed, pulling the man to James.

James gaped. 

Not only was the man looking down at Harry with a kindly bemused look, but he was fucking stunning. Black curls, blue-gray eyes, a smile that made James’s stomach lurch, perfectly chiselled cheekbones and jawline…fuck. 

“Er, hi,” James said awkwardly, acknowledging the man before he turned to his son. “Harry, who’s this?”

“This is your present! A pretty boy for you! And he was free!” Harry answered excitedly, jumping up and down a bit. “Happy Father’s Day.”

The man spoke for the first time. “Sorry, he was very persuasive,” he chuckled softly. “I didn’t know how to tell him I’m not for sale.”

“Th-that’s okay,” James stuttered, already embarrassingly taken by the man. “What’s your name?”

“Regulus,” the shorter man smirked a bit. “And you?”

“James.”

“Well, James. Harry. Happy Father’s Day,” Regulus said with a small smile.

“Wait!” Both Harry and James yelled out at the same time, causing Regulus to turn.

“You are my present,” Harry declared, frowning and stomping his foot.

James took that as an opening. “Erm. We shouldn’t let him down, you know? I think…you should at least give me your number?” he asked giving Regulus a hopeful grin.

At that, the shorter man let out a little laugh. “Oh, that’s what you’re going with? ‘Give me your number, for the children?’” He raised an eyebrow, but he was grinning.

“Yes,” James replied, smiling too.

“Well, good for you that I happen to like kids. Much more than adults, actually,” Regulus snorted, reaching for James’s phone and programming in his phone number. “Harry has won my favor. Let’s see if you do, too. James.”

A few moments later, both Harry and James left the store, beaming and giddy.

[augustjoy]

Corruption

Based on the following ask: Aaron with the youngest and newest member of the bau, taking her virginity in his office after hours, corrupting her in the most unprofessional way but praising her for being such a quick learner – I kind of went genius, girly-girl, virgin reader…but enjoy!!!

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

SMUT

Word count: 1772

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is early 20’s), explicit language, virgin reader, she’s also a genius and kind of a girly-girl, naïve reader, slight d/s dynamic, soft dom Hotch, corruption kink, lots of praise, use of sir, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than female anatomy, use of pet names, fingering, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this), choking, pure filth tbh…let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

It wasn’t the right time. That is what you said, time and time again, but then the right time never really came. First it was the high school boys were all too immature, then the college guys are all too pushy and unserious…and let’s face it, the guys in the FBI academy, well they were all too horny and desperate. So, you put all your focus into your studies and hard work. Who needed sex when you were achieving success at such a young age.

You were the youngest ever agent to join the BAU, even more so than Spencer. You’d been so motivated in school that you had dual majored during both your bachelor’s and master’s programs, finishing them in record time and completing your PHD while in the academy.

--

When you sauntered into Aaron’s office that day, trailing behind the director, he thought perhaps you were Cruz’s new assistant. With your tight little skirt and your long-painted nails, there was no way a sweet thing like you could be his new field agent.

Until you were.

“Hotchner, here is your latest recruit!” Cruz announced. “Be nice, she’s here to stay.”

You stepped forward and offered your hand to shake, quietly introducing yourself. Aaron took your hand, shaking it firmly before releasing it and gesturing for you to take a seat.

“You’re not at all what I was expecting.” He began.

“I hear that a lot. I don’t think people expect someone as accomplished as me to look this way.” You shift your gaze downward.

“How do you mean?” Aaron inquired.

“I just mean, I think people expect me to be a stereotypical nerd, seeing as I put my education first for so long. I don’t think they expect me to have put so much effort into my appearance as well.” You shrug.

Aaron was rendered speechless. You were right, when he had seen your long list of accomplishments, he was picturing someone a little more like Reid. Not a bombshell in a light pink blouse, tight skirt, heels and long pink fingernails.

And thus began Aaron babying you. He did everything in his power to keep you safe…which was becoming increasingly difficult as you continued to prove how qualified you were for this team.

--

He had been devastated when you’d been hurt the first time. It had been a slash of a knife to the shoulder, you’d ducked just in time to avoid your face. Aaron had been quick and pretty rough when taking that particular unsub down.

So, you see, it had been months like this and while…things were good, Aaron was overbearing, you were more than capable of holding your own and you didn’t understand why he was treating you this way.

That’s why you confronted him.

--

“Okay Hotch, what’s your problem?” You asked, entering his office unannounced.

“Excuse me?” He questioned you as you closed the door behind you and made yourself comfortable in the chair across from him.

“You know full well that I am capable of doing this job, so why do you purposefully hold me back?”

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to protect you.” He justified.

“I don’t need you to protect me though.” You huffed.

“The fact that you think that only proves how innocent you are.”

“I – I’m not innocent.” You shook your head.

Aaron clicked his tongue, standing to walk behind you, letting his hands graze your shoulders gently. He leaned down, his warm breath hugging the shell of your ear, whispering.

“I think you are…but you don’t want to be.”

You shivered, leaning into his touch. “I don’t.” You breathed.

“You want to be bad, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You gasped.

“Then be bad sweetheart.”

--

Aaron walked over to ensure the bullpen was clear. He then locked his office door and pulled the blinds closed. He returned to his seat behind his desk, sitting and then wiggling his finger at you, signaling for you to come to him.

You stood and tentatively made your way around his desk, stopping just short of being in front of him. He took your hand and gently pulled you to stand between his legs. His hands slid down your sides, stopping at the outer part of your knees, tapping softly.

You looked at him with confusion…unsure of what it was he was asking you. Your confusion was answered when you saw the look in his eyes. You slowly dropped to your knees, your palms resting on his thighs.

“God, you’re like a vision. So sweet, on your knees for me.” Aaron caressed your cheek.

You reached for his belt, pulling it open, while he let his hand tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Your mouth fell open in a gasp, his pupils were blown, full of lust. He let his thumb slip into your mouth, groaning at the sight of you.

You continued to work his dress slacks open, desperately trying to free his cock now. You were more than ready to have him in your mouth…but your nerves began to creep in. Aaron, ever the profiler, knew immediately.

“You’re doing great baby. I’ll walk you through it, don’t worry.”

You wrapped your hand around him, your fingers just barely out of reach of your thumb. As if that wasn’t enough, his length was quite shocking as well. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to take all of him, but you wanted to try.

“What if I…I mean – I want to be good.” You stuttered. “For you.”

Aaron groaned “You’re going to be amazing, sweet girl. Just start slow, it’ll come naturally.”

So, you did. Hesitantly at first, taking just his tip in your mouth, then moving down little by little. And judging by the sounds Aaron was making, you knew you were doing okay. You continued bobbing your head up and down, hallowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the tip, letting Aaron’s grunts drive your movements.

--

Aaron gently pulls you off of him, helping you back to your feet before lifting you onto his desk.  He stood, invading your space, your gaze shifts upwards to meet his…you just knew you looked completely wrecked for him.

Aaron leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss. He nipped at your lower lip, eliciting a gasp from you. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek and the other sliding under your skirt.

It wasn’t until his fingers grazed the front of your panties that you whined, practically begging for him to do more.

“Please…”

“Please what?” He teased.

“Please sir. Touch me.” You huffed.

Aaron groaned at the name and allowed his fingers to move passed your panties, pressing them through your slick folds. Your hands moved behind you, palms down, holding yourself up. Your head fell back and before long, Aaron’s fingers were thrusting into you. He kept a steady pace, not wanting to work you up too much before he got the chance to fuck you.

“Ugh, God yes. I-it feels s-so good.” You moaned.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good for me. Take it like a good girl.” He praised.

Your hips were chasing his every thrust, begging for your release. He pressed further, the heel of his palm adding a delicious pressure to your clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge.

“Please Aaron, I’m so close.” You begged.

“Not yet sweet girl, I want to feel you cum around my cock.” He nipped your earlobe.

--

Aaron pulled his fingers from your heat, taking a step back, he pulled you with him and spun you around, pressing your front into his desk. His hands slid under your skirt and pulled your panties down.

“Aaron…I-I’ve never done this before.”

“I know baby girl, it’s okay. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

You arched back into his touch; your body was shaking with anticipation. Aaron leaned down and pressed a kiss to your shoulder before he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance.

“You ready for me honey?”

“God yes.”

With that, he pressed forward, fully sliding his cock into you. You cried out and he did his best to soothe you, wiping the tear from your cheek. His movement caused you to let out a sharp hiss.

“You alright sweetheart?”

You nodded, reaching behind you to grab at any part of him you could reach. He placed his hand into your grasp and held still, wanting to let you adjust to him properly. After a few moments, you pressed yourself back, testing the waters to see if the pain had subsided. Aaron quickly caught on to your motion and all hell broke loose.

--

Aaron’s hips snapped into yours over and over, he had your arms pinned behind you as he held you down against his desk for leverage. You were a mess beneath him, tears and mascara running down your face, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your hair fallen completely out of your neat hairstyle. Deep grunts and soft cries filled the room as you both neared your peak. He had you falling apart completely, surely ruining you for any other man.

“It’s like this pussy was made for me sweetheart; she’s gripping me so tight.”

“Oh my god Aaron, I-I think, I’m close.” You cried.

“That’s it honey, cum for me.”

Your orgasm took over as your entire body shook. Your screams could be heard all throughout the office. Aaron shifted his hands, so they gripped your shoulders, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing his end.

With a few final thrusts, Aaron let out a low growl, filling you with his hot seed. You could feel it dripping out of you with every lazy thrust. When he finally stilled, he leaned down over you, pressing kisses to your neck, whispering praise of how well you did for your first time and how he couldn’t wait to ruin you again and again.

--

Aaron slipped out of you with a hiss and tucked himself back into his slacks. He pulled you up and turned you around, helping you back into your panties and pressing his hand to your core.

“I want you to hold it in sweet girl. Because when I get you home, I’m gonna fuck it back into you.” He pressed his lips to yours once more.

You met him with the same amount of passion, only pulling away when he did.

“So…what does this mean?” Your glassy eyes met his.

“You’re mine baby. Forever.”

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[nostalgebraist]

Anthropic's stated "AI timelines" seem wildly aggressive to me.

As far as I can tell, they are now saying that by 2028 – and possibly even by 2027, or late 2026 – something they call "powerful AI" will exist.

And by "powerful AI," they mean... this (source, emphasis mine):

In terms of pure intelligence, it is smarter than a Nobel Prize winner across most relevant fields – biology, programming, math, engineering, writing, etc. This means it can prove unsolved mathematical theorems, write extremely good novels, write difficult codebases from scratch, etc. In addition to just being a “smart thing you talk to”, it has all the “interfaces” available to a human working virtually, including text, audio, video, mouse and keyboard control, and internet access. It can engage in any actions, communications, or remote operations enabled by this interface, including taking actions on the internet, taking or giving directions to humans, ordering materials, directing experiments, watching videos, making videos, and so on. It does all of these tasks with, again, a skill exceeding that of the most capable humans in the world. It does not just passively answer questions; instead, it can be given tasks that take hours, days, or weeks to complete, and then goes off and does those tasks autonomously, in the way a smart employee would, asking for clarification as necessary. It does not have a physical embodiment (other than living on a computer screen), but it can control existing physical tools, robots, or laboratory equipment through a computer; in theory it could even design robots or equipment for itself to use. The resources used to train the model can be repurposed to run millions of instances of it (this matches projected cluster sizes by ~2027), and the model can absorb information and generate actions at roughly 10x-100x human speed. It may however be limited by the response time of the physical world or of software it interacts with. Each of these million copies can act independently on unrelated tasks, or if needed can all work together in the same way humans would collaborate, perhaps with different subpopulations fine-tuned to be especially good at particular tasks.

In the post I'm quoting, Amodei is coy about the timeline for this stuff, saying only that

I think it could come as early as 2026, though there are also ways it could take much longer. But for the purposes of this essay, I’d like to put these issues aside [...]

However, other official communications from Anthropic have been more specific. Most notable is their recent OSTP submission, which states (emphasis in original):

Based on current research trajectories, we anticipate that powerful AI systems could emerge as soon as late 2026 or 2027 [...] Powerful AI technology will be built during this Administration. [i.e. the current Trump administration -nost]

See also here, where Jack Clark says (my emphasis):

People underrate how significant and fast-moving AI progress is. We have this notion that in late 2026, or early 2027, powerful AI systems will be built that will have intellectual capabilities that match or exceed Nobel Prize winners. They’ll have the ability to navigate all of the interfaces… [Clark goes on, mentioning some of the other tenets of "powerful AI" as in other Anthropic communications -nost]

----

To be clear, extremely short timelines like these are not unique to Anthropic.

Miles Brundage (ex-OpenAI) says something similar, albeit less specific, in this post. And Daniel Kokotajlo (also ex-OpenAI) has held views like this for a long time now.

Even Sam Altman himself has said similar things (though in much, much vaguer terms, both on the content of the deliverable and the timeline).

Still, Anthropic's statements are unique in being

official positions of the company

extremely specific and ambitious about the details

extremely aggressive about the timing, even by the standards of "short timelines" AI prognosticators in the same social cluster

Re: ambition, note that the definition of "powerful AI" seems almost the opposite of what you'd come up with if you were trying to make a confident forecast of something.

Often people will talk about "AI capable of transforming the world economy" or something more like that, leaving room for the AI in question to do that in one of several ways, or to do so while still failing at some important things.

But instead, Anthropic's definition is a big conjunctive list of "it'll be able to do this and that and this other thing and...", and each individual capability is defined in the most aggressive possible way, too! Not just "good enough at science to be extremely useful for scientists," but "smarter than a Nobel Prize winner," across "most relevant fields" (whatever that means). And not just good at science but also able to "write extremely good novels" (note that we have a long way to go on that front, and I get the feeling that people at AI labs don't appreciate the extent of the gap [cf]). Not only can it use a computer interface, it can use every computer interface; not only can it use them competently, but it can do so better than the best humans in the world. And all of that is in the first two paragraphs – there's four more paragraphs I haven't even touched in this little summary!

Re: timing, they have even shorter timelines than Kokotajlo these days, which is remarkable since he's historically been considered "the guy with the really short timelines." (See here where Kokotajlo states a median prediction of 2028 for "AGI," by which he means something less impressive than "powerful AI"; he expects something close to the "powerful AI" vision ["ASI"] ~1 year or so after "AGI" arrives.)

----

I, uh, really do not think this is going to happen in "late 2026 or 2027."

Or even by the end of this presidential administration, for that matter.

I can imagine it happening within my lifetime – which is wild and scary and marvelous. But in 1.5 years?!

The confusing thing is, I am very familiar with the kinds of arguments that "short timelines" people make, and I still find the Anthropic's timelines hard to fathom.

Above, I mentioned that Anthropic has shorter timelines than Daniel Kokotajlo, who "merely" expects the same sort of thing in 2029 or so. This probably seems like hairsplitting – from the perspective of your average person not in these circles, both of these predictions look basically identical, "absurdly good godlike sci-fi AI coming absurdly soon." What difference does an extra year or two make, right?

But it's salient to me, because I've been reading Kokotajlo for years now, and I feel like I basically get understand his case. And people, including me, tend to push back on him in the "no, that's too soon" direction. I've read many many blog posts and discussions over the years about this sort of thing, I feel like I should have a handle on what the short-timelines case is.

But even if you accept all the arguments evinced over the years by Daniel "Short Timelines" Kokotajlo, even if you grant all the premises he assumes and some people don't – that still doesn't get you all the way to the Anthropic timeline!

To give a very brief, very inadequate summary, the standard "short timelines argument" right now is like:

Over the next few years we will see a "growth spurt" in the amount of computing power ("compute") used for the largest LLM training runs. This factor of production has been largely stagnant since GPT-4 in 2023, for various reasons, but new clusters are getting built and the metaphorical car will get moving again soon. (See here)

By convention, each "GPT number" uses ~100x as much training compute as the last one. GPT-3 used ~100x as much as GPT-2, and GPT-4 used ~100x as much as GPT-3 (i.e. ~10,000x as much as GPT-2).

We are just now starting to see "~10x GPT-4 compute" models (like Grok 3 and GPT-4.5). In the next few years we will get to "~100x GPT-4 compute" models, and by 2030 will will reach ~10,000x GPT-4 compute.

If you think intuitively about "how much GPT-4 improved upon GPT-3 (100x less) or GPT-2 (10,000x less)," you can maybe convince yourself that these near-future models will be super-smart in ways that are difficult to precisely state/imagine from our vantage point. (GPT-4 was way smarter than GPT-2; it's hard to know what "projecting that forward" would mean, concretely, but it sure does sound like something pretty special)

Meanwhile, all kinds of (arguably) complementary research is going on, like allowing models to "think" for longer amounts of time, giving them GUI interfaces, etc.

All that being said, there's still a big intuitive gap between "ChatGPT, but it's much smarter under the hood" and anything like "powerful AI." But...

...the LLMs are getting good enough that they can write pretty good code, and they're getting better over time. And depending on how you interpret the evidence, you may be able to convince yourself that they're also swiftly getting better at other tasks involved in AI development, like "research engineering." So maybe you don't need to get all the way yourself, you just need to build an AI that's a good enough AI developer that it improves your AIs faster than you can, and then those AIs are even better developers, etc. etc. (People in this social cluster are really keen on the importance of exponential growth, which is generally a good trait to have but IMO it shades into "we need to kick off exponential growth and it'll somehow do the rest because it's all-powerful" in this case.)

And like, I have various disagreements with this picture.

For one thing, the "10x" models we're getting now don't seem especially impressive – there has been a lot of debate over this of course, but reportedly these models were disappointing to their own developers, who expected scaling to work wonders (using the kind of intuitive reasoning mentioned above) and got less than they hoped for.

And (in light of that) I think it's double-counting to talk about the wonders of scaling and then talk about reasoning, computer GUI use, etc. as complementary accelerating factors – those things are just table stakes at this point, the models are already maxing out the tasks you had defined previously, you've gotta give them something new to do or else they'll just sit there wasting GPUs when a smaller model would have sufficed.

And I think we're already at a point where nuances of UX and "character writing" and so forth are more of a limiting factor than intelligence. It's not a lack of "intelligence" that gives us superficially dazzling but vapid "eyeball kick" prose, or voice assistants that are deeply uncomfortable to actually talk to, or (I claim) "AI agents" that get stuck in loops and confuse themselves, or any of that.

We are still stuck in the "Helpful, Harmless, Honest Assistant" chatbot paradigm – no one has seriously broke with it since that Anthropic introduced it in a paper in 2021 – and now that paradigm is showing its limits. ("Reasoning" was strapped onto this paradigm in a simple and fairly awkward way, the new "reasoning" models are still chatbots like this, no one is actually doing anything else.) And instead of "okay, let's invent something better," the plan seems to be "let's just scale up these assistant chatbots and try to get them to self-improve, and they'll figure it out." I won't try to explain why in this post (IYI I kind of tried to here) but I really doubt these helpful/harmless guys can bootstrap their way into winning all the Nobel Prizes.

----

All that stuff I just said – that's where I differ from the usual "short timelines" people, from Kokotajlo and co.

But OK, let's say that for the sake of argument, I'm wrong and they're right. It still seems like a pretty tough squeeze to get to "powerful AI" on time, doesn't it?

In the OSTP submission, Anthropic presents their latest release as evidence of their authority to speak on the topic:

In February 2025, we released Claude 3.7 Sonnet, which is by many performance benchmarks the most powerful and capable commercially-available AI system in the world.

I've used Claude 3.7 Sonnet quite a bit. It is indeed really good, by the standards of these sorts of things!

But it is, of course, very very far from "powerful AI." So like, what is the fine-grained timeline even supposed to look like? When do the many, many milestones get crossed? If they're going to have "powerful AI" in early 2027, where exactly are they in mid-2026? At end-of-year 2025?

If I assume that absolutely everything goes splendidly well with no unexpected obstacles – and remember, we are talking about automating all human intellectual labor and all tasks done by humans on computers, but sure, whatever – then maybe we get the really impressive next-gen models later this year or early next year... and maybe they're suddenly good at all the stuff that has been tough for LLMs thus far (the "10x" models already released show little sign of this but sure, whatever)... and then we finally get into the self-improvement loop in earnest, and then... what?

They figure out to squeeze even more performance out of the GPUs? They think of really smart experiments to run on the cluster? Where are they going to get all the missing information about how to do every single job on earth, the tacit knowledge, the stuff that's not in any web scrape anywhere but locked up in human minds and inaccessible private data stores? Is an experiment designed by a helpful-chatbot AI going to finally crack the problem of giving chatbots the taste to "write extremely good novels," when that taste is precisely what "helpful-chatbot AIs" lack?

I guess the boring answer is that this is all just hype – tech CEO acts like tech CEO, news at 11. (But I don't feel like that can be the full story here, somehow.)

And the scary answer is that there's some secret Anthropic private info that makes this all more plausible. (But I doubt that too – cf. Brundage's claim that there are no more secrets like that now, the short-timelines cards are all on the table.)

It just does not make sense to me. And (as you can probably tell) I find it very frustrating that these guys are out there talking about how human thought will basically be obsolete in a few years, and pontificating about how to find new sources of meaning in life and stuff, without actually laying out an argument that their vision – which would be the common concern of all of us, if it were indeed on the horizon – is actually likely to occur on the timescale they propose.

It would be less frustrating if I were being asked to simply take it on faith, or explicitly on the basis of corporate secret knowledge. But no, the claim is not that, it's something more like "now, now, I know this must sound far-fetched to the layman, but if you really understand 'scaling laws' and 'exponential growth,' and you appreciate the way that pretraining will be scaled up soon, then it's simply obvious that –"

No! Fuck that! I've read the papers you're talking about, I know all the arguments you're handwaving-in-the-direction-of! It still doesn't add up!

[8lyme]

Play it again ♬

Logan Howlett x reader (unmentioned gender)

♬ Play it again - Luke Bryan

SUMMARY - You've been listening to the radio all night long, and can't believe your song comes on when you're luckily alone with Logan.

a/n - chat ... please be gentle this is a self indulgent one shot based off the sickening obsession i have with this man. i need him biblically. Also, I'm imagining this to this song or Springsteen by Eric Church, but obviously use whatever song ur heart desires unedited ! And lowkey out of character but idc

At the start of summer, the students of the "gifted youngsters" program begged Charles to let them set the grounds up for a small party as a celebration for the end of the school year, despite nearly all of them being permanent X-mansion residents.

You excitedly volunteered to help, sitting in the kitchen concocting a dessert recipe as Scott mixed punch. Within a few hours, the yard was lit with string lights hanging from tree to tree. Fold-out tables with sheets as tablecloths held plates of food and drinks. Closer to the mansion, a large speaker blared music from the radio.

You listened to the music, half listening to the conversation Storm and Charles were having and half trying to hide your sideways glances at Logan, who was very attractively manning the grill. You might've heard a question directed at you but Logan's white t-shirt was tucked into his jeans. The cut of his sleeves stretched against his biceps, one hand on his belt and the other flipping hot dogs with tongs. You wanted him to turn so you could shamelessly stare at his ass in his jeans. You were no better than a man.

"Didn't you bake these cookies?" Charles said, catching your attention. You hoped that was the first time he asked that as you looked down to him.

"Oh, yeah, I did", you answer (hopefully as nonchalant as possible). "I hope they don't taste terrible."

"Please, you are the baker sent from heaven" Storm sighed, taking a bite of one of your cookies.

"I told you, my mutation literally causes the spirit of Martha Stuart to take over my body" you snort. "She's the little rat in my chef's hat".

You earned a chuckle from Charles, a yellow paper plate of some of your baked goods resting on his legs.

"If I truly ever felt the mind of Martha Stuart at this school, I would send us into lockdown" He joked back, but you had glanced at Logan again and your mind left the conversation.

He was smiling warmly as he handed plates of burgers and hot dogs to a few surrounding kids. He turned to the table behind him to open another pack of buns, and you silently thought 'thankyouthankyouthankyou' as you shamelessly stared at his ass.

With an enormous amount of willpower, you returned to the conversation ahead of you as Logan unfortunately turned back to the grill.

♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬

The lights dimly lit the courtyard under the darkening sky. You sat in the grass, legs outstretched and feet swaying to the radio still playing in the background. Hearing footsteps, you glanced behind you.

Logan was making his way towards you, beer in hand.

"Hey" he said, kneeling to sit beside you. He sighed as he turned to stretch his legs out before taking a long drink.

"Hey there, grillmaster" you smile, reaching to snag his beer.

"Headmasters orders" He groaned as you sipped his cold drink.

"Whatever Logan, you had a smile on your face the whole time"

"I think you were a little busy staring at my ass to notice my face" He teased and snatched his beer from you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Don't even flatter yourself" you said, turning away and hoping he didn't notice the blood rushing to your cheeks. "I was admiring your grilling capabilities".

He let out a quiet laugh as your face became even hotter.

"Only my grilling capabilities?" He said, and you felt him leaning closer to you. "Nothing else?"

You tried to ignore him despite goosebumps making their way up your arms. He taps your arm with his beer, trying to get you to look at him.

"You think you're hot shit, huh?" you say as a deterrent.

"And you don't?" he flirts, knocking you with the cold bottle in his hand again. You roll your eyes, deciding between groaning out 'Whatever, Logan', 'Spare me', or 'Fuck off'.

Before you even open your mouth, the radio catches your attention. You take a second to recognize the beginning of the song before gasping loudly.

"Oh my god, this is my song!" you light up, whipping around to face Logan and grabbing his shoulder. "The radio's been on all night, I can't believe it's playing!"

You scramble up to a crouch and grab at Logan's arms.

"Come here, Logan, I wanna dance!"

Before he can say a word, you yank on his wrists and pull him off the grass. Your song hums from the speakers as you pull him to spin to the beat. Logan rolls his eyes at you, but he can't ignore the smile that's on your face. You're holding each others' fingers, and he lets you push and pull at opposite arms.

You can't help but sing along, turning from side to side with the lyrics. A grin forms on Logan's face, and he decides to pull you closer and put his hand on the small of your back. You're too enthralled in the music to feel embarrassed, and you push your leg up to force Logan to dip you.

You pull away from him and spin yourself under his arm. You're jumping and swaying to the beat, unaware that Logan is enjoying himself enough to dance along as little as he can get away with.

At every chorus, you lift your hand in a fake microphone and sing into it. Logan sings along too, but quietly enough that you don't notice.

The last few notes of the song play out, and you slow to a stop and catch your breath. You look up at Logan, surprised to find him with an enjoyable look on his face. Your hands are still connected when you straighten up to say "Sorry, I just haven't heard that in while".

You start to let go of his hands, but his fingers tighten around yours. He's looking right into your eyes, the normal furrow in his brows gone and his features softened.

"Don't apologize" he says gently.

"Okay" you respond in whisper. His gaze is unwavering.

You blink with your heart thrumming in your chest. You can't tell if hours or only seconds have passed while you've been looking up at him. You're afraid to look away and ruin the moment, but you unintentionally glance down at his lips and notice that he's smiling.

With a newfound burst of confidence, you pull your hands from his to grab at his jawline. You tug him down and kiss him. Before you can pull back, his hands grip your back. He pulls you closer from his hand between your shoulder blades and other on the curve of your spine. He sighs into you before you pull away, and you meet each other's gaze once again.

"I hope they play that song again" Logan says to you after a beat. You can't fight your smile before you say "Me too".

He brings your face to his and whispers "You spilled my beer, asshole" before kissing you deeply. You push him away, smiling.

"Go get another one, I'll figure out how to play that song again"

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 8.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

-

A/n: I hope that you guys are enjoying the story so far! Please don't be afraid to comment or sends asks about it. I am a bit worried about the pacing, and I don't know if I like how this is playing out rip If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE! I also wrote this to Abe Parker - It Is what it Is, Sam Barber - Indigo, and Jonathan - The Garage

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

-

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

rehab masterlist. chapter 6 / chapter 7

Shuri sighed as she watched the soldier from behind the glass of the lab doors. The soldier hadn't moved since Shuri and Bucky had left her by herself; simply sitting at the table where her empty bowl of Isidudu sat. The soldier seemed emotionless, simply staring ahead as if she was waiting for orders, and Shuri knew that in a way, she was.

While Shuri knew that HYDRA was a terrible organization, especially when she first treated Bucky, but she never anticipated it to be bad in this way. If Shuri could scrub her mind of the images of the dreams of memories about the torture the soldier endured during her time at HYDRA, Shuri would trade all the vibranium in the world to do so.

The sexual torture, the flagellation until the ground colored itself red and her vision tunneled, the drowning in disguise as training, burning her skin before peeling away the burnt flesh...it was no surprise that the soldier was simply a conditioned tool.

How could a person continue to be human when subjected to such animalistic torture?

It made Shuri angry and determined. While Shuri felt guilt for the soldier being able to remember such horrible things, she knew that it was needed. It was needed for the soldier to understand that she was more than what HYDRA made her and what they had done was not right.

In a way, Shuri hoped that the pain would somehow remind the Isithunzi that she was, in fact, human; that while she was a super soldier, she was still capable of being a human and she was still capable of bleeding and pain and that was okay.

Of course, it was easier said than done and there was a ton of work that needed to be done to get the soldier to that point. However, Shuri was determined to see this through.

She just wasn't sure if her method was truly humane. Was it right to manipulate the soldier in the way that she was? Nevertheless, Shuri knew that her intentions were good; would it even pay off in the end? Would the soldier still hold herself to completing the mission even after everything had been made clear and she could make that assumption on her own?

Shuri jolted when Bucky greeted her, making the princess hold a hand to her chest as Bucky stared at her with a raised and amused eyebrow.

"My goodness, don't scare me like that, colonizer!"

"Downgraded back to colonizer, I see."

Bucky joked gently, and though he wore a gentle smile on his face, Shuri could see the exhaustion on his face.

"You never upgraded."

She replied sassily, and Bucky snorted. At the sound of his laughter, Shuri chuckled as well before she sighed and looked back into the lab at the empty-looking soldier. Bucky carefully watched Shuri's face, observing as a slight shadow came across her features, and he pointed out to her.

"You look like you've got something on your mind."

Shuri pursed her lips slightly, wondering if she should open up her mind to the White Wolf before she allowed her shoulders to fall slightly.

"I cannot get the images of what they did to her out of my mind. I am certain that there is more than what we have seen...but it...it's horrific. There is just no other way to describe it."

Shur swallowed thickly, her voice quieting softly as Bucky listened intently; his gaze slowly turning back to the empty woman within the lab.

"My soul hurts for her. I know she is supposed to be our enemy right now...but all I see is another victim of HYDRA and their horrible, horrible ways."

Shuri shook her head, crossing her arms and glancing down at the ground.

"I am a scientist. I dabble with technology and science in hopes that I discover something new that may help to advance human knowledge and create a better world...because I enjoy this. I enjoy being able to discover and to change and to experiment. It is within my blood..."

Her voice trailed off, and Shuri shook her head.

"When my father was killed, I felt such unfathomable sadness and rage...but to be forced to lose ones self...their memories, their hopes, and their dreams...it must truly feel like death."

Bucky didn't know what to respond with. He continued to stare at the woman before he whispered softly, shaking his head before Bucky looked over at Shuri again.

"She's not our enemy...because you're right. She's another victim who was stripped of her whole entire identity and humanity because of an organization that wanted to further their cause no matter the cost."

Bucky bit his lip slightly as he began to think of what he wanted to say next, and he was thankful that Shuri was patient enough to let him think before Bucky settled.

"It's hard to want to help her because its like being placed in front of a mirror...it's one thing to be it and another to see it. Every time that I look at her, I just see me...I see what I was forced to do...forced to endure, and it makes me angry all over again."

Bucky swallowed thickly, whispering with a slight shake to his voice.

"I know that she can't control her own thoughts and actions because of the brainwashing...and that's what makes it hard."

Bucky gazed hard and long at the woman, and he was almost forced into silence when the soldier glanced over at him. They held eye contact, even as he began to speak again.

"When she told me that I was her mission...I was afraid. I was afraid that somehow HYDRA was going to burst through the doors and take me back...and I still feel that way...and I'm conflicted because I know it's not her fault...it's just easier to blame the next closest thing."

Shuri was quiet for a moment before whispering.

"Do not blame the one who is forced to lie with someone else's sins. She is lost and broken...just like you were. She needs salvation...she needs someone to reach down into those waters she is trapped beneath instead of pushing her down further."

"How can you be confident that I won't push her down either?"

Bucky didn't want to look at Shuri because he could already feel the disappointed stare, and he almost winced when Shuri clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"You have come too far to become that person you were before. You are free...but she is not. She is still chained by and to what they have done, and if there is someone that can help her, it is you."

Shuri placed her hand upon Bucky's shoulder, emphasizing her words carefully.

"You can show her that you are more than just the Fist of HYDRA and she can be too, but it is up to you to take that first step, James Barnes....she can't make that decision for herself...not yet."

Bucky couldn't help but to whisper.

"I'm afraid of hurting her somehow...more than she will hurt herself when she realizes what she's done in the name of HYDRA."

"Then you must promise to keep her safe...to be kind to her just like we showed you. She is your cub now, White Wolf. Please protect her...from HYDRA and herself."

The lab doors opened, and Shuri gestured with a nod of her head silently. Bucky nodded, and he walked into the lab. The soldier had looked away from him, staring forward again, and Bucky swallowed thickly before he hesitantly asked.

"призрак?"

Her eyes flicked to life for a moment, her fists clenching slightly, and Bucky sat down before her, asking her with a raised brow as he observed her down to the last detail.

"When you said that I was your mission, what did you mean?"

The soldier's body language displayed her annoyance to the question. Her head tilted slightly, face screwing up into a nonchalant sneer before looked at him with a frown, stating as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You are my mission."

Bucky couldn't help the frustration that went through him, taking a calming deep breath before he asked.

"I understand, but what I would like to know is what your mission is exactly? Why does HYDRA want me back?"

Soldiers were never supposed to question mission objectives. They were only meant to receive orders and deliver results, and so the soldier could not provide him with a good answer. However, that didn't mean she didn't mull over the thoughts quietly to herself.

"You are not authorized to know."

Bucky pursed his lips and he replied with furrowed brows.

"Given that I'm the one you're after, I think that I should know why."

The soldier frowned before she looked away from Bucky. There was a perplexed look on her face, almost as if she was confused, and Bucky almost gave up until the soldier asked in a quiet voice.

"...Before...you stated...you stated your name as James...did HYDRA...did they give you...that name?"

Bucky couldn't help the surprise that crossed his face from the question. Tilting his head slightly, he pursed his lips before he shook his head.

"No, HYDRA didn't give me that name. It's the name that I was born with...that my mother and father gave me."

She asked further, her gaze unable to meet his own as she nervously drummed her fingers against her knee.

"What did you mean when you said that you left?"

Bucky shrugged slightly, stating.

"Exactly that: I left HYDRA after I began to remember who I was before HYDRA kidnapped me."

The soldier became distressed slightly, a haunted expression coming across her face, and she whispered in a panic.

"I...I...Flaws Detected. Reprogramming required...!"

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Bucky was perturbed. He reached out a hand to comfort the soldier, but the soldier flinched and jumped back from him. The chair skid across the ground, creating sparks from the sheer intensity of the glide, and Bucky carefully stood up.

"Easy, призрак. I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you, okay? I need you to allow me to help you."

Her eyes flickered slightly, a tear falling down her cheek, and she braced herself against the far wall.

"Нет! Нет! Не понимаю...не понимаю что происходит."

Bucky held his hands up carefully, calling firmly.

"Солдат! послушай меня, пожалуйста."

Her breathing was erratic, refusing to look at him, but Bucky could see her ears pricking up to focus on his words.

"Посмотри на меня."

Her eyes slowly looked over to him, her pupils pin-points in an ocean of terrified (e/c) waves, and Bucky whispered softly.

"I'm not upset that you are questioning these things...that you are asking questions at all. My intention is not to hurt you. See?"

Bucky spun slowly, lifting his shirt to show that he wasn't hiding a gun or knives, and her eyes flicked to his arm. Bucky hummed, shaking his head.

"Can't exactly fix that."

The soldier glanced back at his eyes, and she whispered shakily.

"I...I don't understand what is happening...you are my mission...my orders were to take you to Gützkow...but...but you are being..."

She couldn't seem to find the correct word, but it didn't matter. Not only did she just reveal where Rollins possibly was, but she was starting to recognize and feel things outside of the programming.

To Bucky, it was a good thing.

"Because I need you to know that I am not the enemy...surely you know that...deep down somewhere in that head of yours, you know that we're not the bad guys. You're remembering things...seeing memories of the things that HYDRA made you do and what they did to you."

Bucky was inching closer to her, his words becoming firm as he reassured her.

"We're not going to take those away from you...and we aren't going to punish you for that. We want you to remember...we want you to see that you are more than just a Winter Soldier."

"This does not help my mission."

Bucky was then put into a dilemma. Did he lie and try to manipulate her into thinking that it did, or did he be honest and risk retriggering her programming? Clenching his fists, Bucky closed his eyes for a moment before clenching his jaw. Taking a leap, Bucky replied.

"No, it doesn't. What we talk about doesn't help you in completing your mission...but understanding why they want you to complete it could help."

The soldier's lip was trembling, and she was desperately trying not to cry. The sight made Bucky feel horrible, but then the soldier slowly slid down the wall until she was huddled in the corner. She whispered softly.

"I...I dream...of a woman...who looks like I do...она красивая."

Bucky carefully lowered himself down to the ground, sitting across from the soldier as he asked her carefully.

"Do you know who this woman is?"

The soldier clutched her knees to her chest, hiding her face as she whispered.

"I don't know. Her face...is my face...but she is pretty...and wears a coat like the scientists that...come to see me do."

Bucky nodded, and he pressed further, giving the soldier a patient look.

"Does she have a name?"

The soldier didn't answer for a moment. Instead, she began to chew on her lip to the point she began to bleed heavily. Bucky moved to grab a cloth to hand to the soldier when he paused at the sound of her whispering voice.

"Да. Да, она делает."

Bucky glanced back at the soldier, and the soldier was looking at him; a desperate look within her eyes as she asked with a small and anxious voice.

"Will...will you...will you punish me?"

Although Bucky had understood her to be asking if he was going to punish her for remembering, he couldn't help but wonder if she was actually asking him to hurt her.

"What? No, of course not."

"Why? I am...flawed. My programming is malfunctioning, and I am...I am vile. I am an abomination. I am nothing if I cannot complete my mission."

Bucky became assertive, shaking his head as he refuted her words; a feeling of anger and disdain beginning to grow within his chest as he watched the woman become torn and confused and afraid.

"You are not any of those things. That's what HYDRA made you believe, but you are more than that. You don't have to follow their orders. You don't have to keep trying to prove your worth. You are more than the missions and the orders and the punishments. You can be free. Do you understand?"

The soldier shook her head, and Bucky sighed heavily, his shoulders collapsing for a moment before he stood and grabbed a cloth from a random desk within the lab. The soldier watched before flinching slightly as Bucky knelt before her, and he slowly held the cloth out for her.

"You don't have to follow HYDRA's orders. You can do what you want to do...like I have."

"I do not know how to be free. It is not in my programming."

She was clutching onto the cloth now, her expression anxious and hesitant, and Bucky gently held her hand within his flesh one. The soldier's eyes looked startled by the feeling of his hand on hers, and he affirmed.

"Yes, you do. Somewhere, deep down, you have always known that you could be free...HYDRA just didn't like that...they tried so hard to wipe that part of you...to rid you of the pretty woman in the labcoat because they knew that she knew this wasn't right. What they were doing wasn't okay."

The soldier wasn't sure what to say, pausing for a long moment before she asked in the ghost of a whisper.

"May I...have...a beverage?"

Bucky blinked in surprise before he nodded and stood up. The soldier did not move from her spot on the floor, and she watched him like a hawk as Bucky grabbed a random and clean beaker before pouring water into it.

Walking to the soldier, he handed it to her, and she immediately snatched the glass to gulp it down. Bucky was almost started by her behavior before he sighed. She must have been extremely thirsty. Hell, in all the time that the soldier had been here, Bucky hadn't seen her drink anything at all.

"I will be back soon."

The soldier paused before she began to drink again, and Bucky took that as affirmation that she had heard him. Walking out of the lab, Shuri was waiting with a proud smile on her face.

"See? That was not so hard?"

"That's what you think."

Now that he was out of sight from the Soldier, Bucky could feel the disdain and anger for HYDRA taking over. His metal arm whirred; plates shifting to reinforce the arm as he clenched his fist, and Bucky sneered out as his chest constricted and his mind began to fog slightly.

"When we go after Rollins, I want to be the one to engage."

"I won't stop you, but I also didn't hear you tell me this either."

Shuri winked before the two of them began to walk to the throne room within the Citadel where T'Challa and Okoye were waiting. T'Challa, Shuri, and Okoye all greeted each other before the king asked.

"Did you make more progress?"

"Yes! White Wolf, tell my brother what you were able to discover."

Bucky nodded slightly before explaining, crossing his arms as his brow furrowed.

"The soldier was supposed to take me to Gützkow, which I'm guessing is where Rollins is. Not only that, but she's starting to remember bits and pieces of her past. She wouldn't tell me what her name was though."

"I will inform the Avengers of our discovery, and we will leave as quickly as possible."

Okoye then asked, tilting her head.

"What about the soldier? She cannot be left on her own."

Shuri shrugged, saying.

"I am capable of watching over her. She has not exhibited hostile behavior as of yet, and with how much progress we have been making, I don't foresee her being an issue."

T'Challa looked uncomfortable, but he was unsure of voicing his concerns. Shuri was a stubborn woman, and it would be no use to try to refute her. Instead, T'Challa turned to Bucky, gesturing.

"We should prepare for this mission while we inform the Avengers of our discovery."

Bucky nodded before he pulled out his phone to call Steve, T'Challa discreetly turning his head slightly to listen from over his shoulder as Bucky greeted his old friend.

"Hey, Buck, anything new?"

"Yeah, I was able to get through a bit to the soldier. Found out that she's supposed to deliver me to Gützkow, Germany."

Steve hummed, praising the man.

"Good work, Buck. I'll let the rest of the Avengers know."

Bucky could feel his throat close up slightly, and he wondered if he should tell Steve to let him handle Rollins. However, Bucky wasn't sure if he should say anything. His head was full of images, of the things that he wanted to do to Rollins, and he clenched his fist. Steve asked slowly.

"What's going on, Bucky?"

"I want to kill him, Steve."

Steve hesitated, unsure of what to say, and he simply stated.

"I know that you do, but he's going to pay for what he did. I promise you that."

Bucky shook his head, taking a deep and calming breath. His chest was becoming too tight. His breathing was becoming irregular. His mind was fogging, and he said quietly.

"It won't be enough."

"I know. But you need to keep a level head about this. If I have to sit you out, I will."

Bucky couldn't help the annoyance that filled him, but the man understood where Steve was coming from. If Bucky wasn't careful, he could royally fuck up the mission beyond repair. Shaking his head, Bucky rubbed his hand against his face as if to wipe away the distress that he was feeling.

"She told me that she dreams of a woman who wears her face and a labcoat...she knows that she has a name, but she wouldn't tell me what it was."

Steve hummed thoughtfully, and Bucky could hear Natasha reply in the background with a thoughtful tone.

"She's probably protective of her name because she's so worried that she's going to be punished for remembering."

"You mean being wiped?"

Natasha hummed in agreement, and Steve sighed slightly.

"I'll let Tony know about the new development with Rollins. I'm pretty sure he's with Peter and Dr. Banner in the lab right now."

Bucky asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Is he planning on bringing the kid?"

"I'm not sure. I think they're currently working on a new suit for him."

Bucky just stayed quiet for a moment before he replied.

"She also mentioned that there were flaws detected and that she required programming. I never experienced anything like that, so I think that HYDRA implemented some type of system that forces her to alert her Handler when there are issues with the programming."

Natasha muttered with annoyance.

"So, there's not even a real chance for her to be able to hide when she starts to remember things. HYDRA gets the alert, and they start all over again without even needing to lift a finger."

"Exactly. The important thing is that she is remembering and is slowly starting to realize that we're not her enemies and we're not going to punish her for remembering things and thinking and acting on her own volition."

Bucky then added as he slipped on some fingerless gloves.

"I don't think she meant to reveal to me where she was supposed to deliver me...but I'm taking it as a good sign."

"I'm right there with you on that one. Natasha's been translating the book for me-"

Natasha cut him off with a playful tone.

"-teaching him, but he sucks at rolling his r's-"

"-anyway, with the knowledge that they had to regularly wipe her more than they did with you, I think there's a part of her that remained untouched by the programming that kept breaking out-"

"-They weren't sure how to erase that part, and so they installed that safeguard system to alert them when she began to remember too much."

It made complete sense, Bucky had to admit. Shaking his head, Bucky stated.

"What matters now is that we know where Rollins might be."

"Right. Once we inform Tony, I think the best thing would be for all of us to meet in Gützkow and go from there."

Bucky nodded, and the two men bid farewells. Bucky glanced at T'Challa, who had been waiting patiently and listening in. The King was looking at him with a knowing look, making Bucky raise a brow at him in question.

"What?"

"You're not going to wait for them, are you?"

Bucky pursed his lips, looking away from the king. His shoulders dropped slightly, and T'Challa shook his head slightly.

"Your anger is justified, but do not let it cloud your judgement. This man will get what is coming to him, I will assure you of that."

"It's hard."

Bucky admitted, and T'Challa nodded, activating his Black Panther suit and giving the man a gentle look.

"It won't be easy, especially when you are finally getting an outside look at the result of HYDRA's treatment."

Bucky wouldn't argue with that at all. As he had thought to himself before: it was an entirely different perspective to be on the outside just as it was to be on the inside. Bucky glanced at T'Challa, and the King nodded to him quietly.

"Let's get a move on. The sooner, the better."

Bucky shoved a magazine into his rifle roughly, nodding with a determine gait.

"Right."

-

STORY NOTES: Shuri is observing the soldier from outside the lab, lost within her thoughts. She reflects on the torture that the soldier was subjected to by HYDRA, revealing how upset she is by what she has seen. She becomes determined to rehabilitate the soldier, and when Bucky startles Shuri, Shuri opens up to Bucky about the way she is feeling about the situation. Bucky reveals that he thinks it is hard to help the soldier and to rehabilitate her because how much of himself he sees in the woman. He also reveals that he is still afraid of HYDRA and somehow falling back into their hands. Shuri tells Bucky that he cannot blame the soldier for what HYDRA did to him and expresses how unfair it is to do so.

After speaking to Shuri, Bucky goes into the lab to make contact with the soldier and asks her to elaborate on what her mission is. After some resistance, the soldier switches the conversation back to Bucky, asking him about his name and how he obtained it and what he meant when he said he 'left' HYDRA. Bucky answers the soldier truthfully, and when the soldier ruminates on his answer, her programming suddenly kicks in. The soldier reveals to Bucky that there is a flaw within her program, and Bucky tries to comfort the soldier by showing her that he is not going to hurt her. The soldier begins to panic when she is unable to understand what is happening, and Bucky becomes assertive with the soldier to get her to calm down.

The soldier then reveals that her mission was to bring him to Gützkow, Germany, and that she does not understand why Bucky is being kind to her, though she is unable to find the correct word to use. Bucky then tries to make the soldier understand that HYDRA is the bad guy and that she doesn't have to keep answering to the organization nor honor their orders. When the soldier states that talking to her in such a way doesn't help her with her mission, Bucky is honest with her that it doesn't serve a real purpose. However, he implies that understanding why HYDRA wants her to do these things could help. The soldier then reveals to Bucky that she dreams of a woman who wears her face, and though Bucky tries to get the soldier to reveal more information, the soldier becomes reluctant in fear that he will punish her for remembering.

After a few more exchanges, the soldier asks for water, and after she is given a glass, Bucky leaves the lab to tell Shuri and T'Challa what he has learned. He reveals to Shuri that he wants to be the one to interrogate Rollins when the Avengers find him, but Shuri does not confirm nor deny his request. Bucky then calls Steve to tell him the news, and it's revealed that Natasha is also listening in.

After a few exchanges, Steve reveals that Natasha has been translating and reading digital cans of the black book to him, which reveals that HYDRA was continuously unsuccessful in completely wiping the soldier of her memories and so they installed a fail-safe system to force the soldier to alert them when she begins to remember too much so they can begin reprogramming. Afterwards, T'Challa and Bucky have a conversation where T'Challa warns Bucky against acting upon his anger and tells him that Jack Rollins will answer for his crimes. Deciding that the sooner they could start the mission, the better, Bucky and T'Challa begin their journey to Gützkow, Germany. End Scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Isidudu - a popular breakfast porridge made with mealie meal. It is a staple in Xhosa and Zulu households

Isithunzi - Xhosa for Shadow

призрак - Shadow, Spectre, Ghost

Нет - No

Я не понимаю что происходит. - I don't understand what is happening

Солдат - Soldier

послушай меня, пожалуйста - Listen to me please

Посмотри на меня - Look at me

Gützkow - A city in Germany

она красивая. - she's pretty/beautiful

Да, она делает - Yes, she does

TAGLIST: @mgchaser @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @aash3

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧝🏻‍♀️Mystical Glow-Up Secrets ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Your mystical glow-up is literally divinely ordained, no cap HAHAH I’ve got this vibe from the deck-bottom but let me start with this quote:

'A Humanity that thinks materialistically will produce frightful beings in the future, and a Humanity that thinks spiritual thoughts, will work upon and transform the future organism so that beautiful Human bodies will proceed from it.' – Rudolf Steiner

Oh, gosh.

We are in an era of spiritual consciousness. This is an era where we learn to reflect outwardly what it means to be a 5D-Consciousness Being. Living in a 5D consciousness, people naturally feel lighter, freer, younger, prettier, healthier, more fit, more stress-free, more energetic; all because people's whole vibrations are 'triggered' by a more spiritual ae-nergy.

ae is known as chi or prana or orgone in other languages; by synchronizing with your ae, ever so organically your body learns to derive vital energy from a purer source of consciousness—a high vibration of aetheric authenticity—that reflects in the physical world as a glow-up of the highest divine order~♥︎

As your Mind comes into alignment with the ae of your Spirit, so your Body becomes attuned to that Order. The significance of ae will only grow as more people come into a spiritual kind of liberation from the chains of insecurity propagated by the monsters in the media and politics.

No matter what the propaganda of the moment may say and try to do, you could always be the conscious individual that distils information and derives from this process only the essence of what is good for you on a personal level. If you’re happy, satisfied, confident and proud with your intelligent conscious choices, that spark of contentment is what truly makes a person glow from the inside out~★

education: Body Care and Grooming (1948)

technomagy: Facial Symmetry with Muscle Toning (Energetic Programmed Audio) by Sapien Medicine

deck-bottom: XX Judgement Rx, Silver Historian (Polydore Vergil), Priestess of Beauty

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – As You Mend Your Heart, Babe, All of You Gets Beautiful Again

assistance: what is coming is 100000x better than what is gone by doyouflow

what’s been taken from you? – 9 of Wands

Although this is a 9 of Wands card, I see that the entirety of your Pile is water-based. You’re someone whose heart is very pure and kind, and you’ve sacrificed a lot of yourself for being there for others. I’m hearing: ‘for a pessimist I was pretty optimistic, and I got nothing—NOTHING—but betrayal and abandonment, and I am exhausted.’ Being charitable around the wrong fucker can surely drain our spiritual aenergy!

You’ve been through multiple cycles of ‘exhausting’ friendships with people who couldn’t appreciate you for the delicate human that you are. They only saw you as this fiery, strong, charismatic capable individual who always managed to whip up a positive attitude in any circumstances. It never occurred to them—not that they’d care to wonder anyway—that maybe this time around you’re the one needing a hug.

Nobody cared; and even the ones who pretended to care, only wanted to know what your gloominess was all about. And they went on to talk shit behind your back and had a good laugh about it. ‘MU HA HA HA, turns out Y/N ain’t even that shit! Y/N is pretty pathetic/loser/crazy BU HA HA HA HA!!!’ Funny thing is, you always knew about their shit one way or another and the whole revelation broke your heart to pieces. Multiple times with different people… tsk tsk…

recalling fragments of your beauty – 9 of Cups

Well, now, I can see you’ve lost a lot of these ‘friends’ and worked on yourself to create new neural pathways towards a truer sense of spiritual abundance. I’m sure right now your Life is pretty OK in areas like finance and material security; your job or creative project is going swimmingly; you have a pretty good work-life balance; and for the most part you’re really enjoying the peacefulness of your solitary Life.

But if there’s one thing, I think you haven’t had a really good conversation with someone interesting in a pretty long time. I see that your eyes have not twinkled from being complimented by someone genuinely kind in a really long while. You’ve lost a lot of your affection for people and you’ve lost faith in being energetic and social. People always disappoint in the end because their hearts are ugly and they’re mean to each other. This deep-seated belief has caused your eyes to look dead and droopy.

Have you perhaps noticed that you’ve developed a set of sanpaku eyes? The minimalistic science behind it states that people could develop sanpaku eyes after going through a lot—like a FUCKTON—of heartache and disappointments. I think your case could be dealing with some kind of a ‘betrayal trauma’ or some variety of ‘injustice trauma’. Look ‘em up, babe~ ♥︎

sealing the deal with the Divine Feminine – Knight of Cups

If some years have passed now since the last time you were around your fake friends, or even frenemies, I want you to know that your beauty has not been lost to time or ageing. Nope. Not at all. That’s bullshit. I can see that you’re the type of person who ages very UNNATURALLY. If your natal chart has a lot of Water aenergies or you have strong placements in Water Houses, you’re defo the type of bitch that can TRANSFORM your physical appearance by sheer mood ;D At this point, you can’t even age coz that skin barrier is strong AF LMAO

THAT’S WHY! Your true mystical glow-up secret lies in your mending your pretty Heart~ You’ve never had an ugly Heart, obviously, and still now it’s not ugly or anything; but it’s the way you think about how deserving you are of a friendship or relationship that honours your complex sensitivity that needs to be acknowledged and RECLAIMED. Doesn’t matter how, doesn’t matter when or who’s coming next, I just want you to know that if this reading has popped in to your Life… Your Soulmates are coming to get you, bitch. Pack up and play in the sea! XD

The good times that you’re going to be having with your Soulmates, Soul Tribes, Soul Fam—however you may resonate—are going to refill the stars in your Heart, automatically reflected in your eyes~ ★_★v Hahah I promise you that you’re going to reunite with Souls who are very, very old friends with you. You’re going to live a very happy, passionate Life doing things you like with people you Love… How the hell do you think that’s not gonna heal all of you and make everything about you beautiful again?😉

Originally, you’re a beautiful bitch. And if you’ve also got some Capricorn/Saturn/10th House placements, it’s very likely you’re ageing backwards! What the hell even is that?? \`★_★`/

GODDESS OF BEAUTY🔻💙

beauty on the inside – Green Physician (Paracelsus)

beauty on the outside – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – It’s the Passion in Your Heart That Reflects Outwardly Your True Inner Beauty

assistance: I TRUST things aren’t falling apart they are FALLING INTO PLACE by doyouflow

~wah, girl, you really gotta check out the bonus content for this one XP~

what’s been taken from you? – 5 of Cups Rx

Out of all the Piles, you’re the baddest bitch of them all, do you realise that? You’ve got the most unhinged aenergy about you XD You’re a psycho, you know that? You’re generally thought of as either unpredictable or uncontrollable, but you could also be both, unprovoked LMAO People think you’re a problem child, because you’re so gutsy. I’m literally not getting ANYTHING about what’s been taken from you ^_^; Are you sure you still need this PAC? XD

First of all, you literally exist in your own dimension. That’s why people can’t control you. They can’t tame you. You’re a weirdo, a maniac even, who does things your way, plans things according to your vision, and yours alone, for the most part. People think you’re rather selfish but it’s because you’re a girl, right? If you were a man they’d say you’re DRIVEN. And yes! DRIVE that Bentley, bitch! No, DRIVE that Tesla into OUTER SPACE, bitch! You don’t appreciate people telling you what you CAN’T do!

And you don’t like it when people gaslight you about your confidence just because they’re a little bitch. You love being a Supreme Bitch—you’re a girl on a mission; ain’t nobody got the aenergy to listen to nobody’s guilt-tripping. And in that sense, your spirit and psychology have never really been hit by society. Society has never been able to take away anything from you ♡

recalling fragments of your beauty – XIV Temperance Rx

I see that your Beauty has stayed intact for the majority of your Life. It’s not like you’d resonate with having lost fragments of your beauty to years of depression, malnutrition or anything of the sort? Your mindset has remained strong for the majority of your adult Life. You have a strong mentality and this is reflected well in your physical body. A glow-up is easy, as long as you want it. And for the most part, your glow-up is tightly bound to your sense of purpose.

You’ve always known you’re meant for great things. And from a very young age you already worked on your mentality. You REFUSED to be normal, you refused mediocrity. It wasn’t a walk in the park until you reached your conviction though. Your childhood was rather constrictive, either due to societal expectations…or familial expectations. The adults around you thought you didn’t notice but you saw all of these fences put around you, and they pissed you off. Even your peers couldn’t understand what you wanted to make out of yourself.

So you rebelled from a very young age. You were, yes, THEE problem child, only because the small-minded people around you were a problem to your goals! Such hindrance. And now you’re glowing up and grabbing all the money bags and they jealous? Are you even fucking kidding my butt? Your path towards a total glow-up of your mindset and real life was not always perfect, but what’s perfection? All of the struggles play into creating your lore👑

sealing the deal with the Divine Feminine – 2 of Cups

If you’ve never heard anybody tell you this, allow me to be the first. Your drive, your determination, your ambition and motivation, although these qualities may make you appear like a selfish bitch on the outside, I, ME, MYSELF, understand that you want these things not only for yourself. There are people in this world you want to protect and provide for. Maybe it’s your mother who was abused or left by her deadbeat husband, idk. Maybe it’s a sibling or a pet you want to give the best Life for, idk.

Maybe, you want to achieve success and fame and be seen by the world, because you want to save the world from the malady of its own crazy, idk~ You want to be an example, a healing presence, a voice of reason, a voice for the voiceless, idk? You may look a certain bitchy, scary way on the outside, but your heart is good; it’s PURE GOLD. You live for the betterment of someone else and if that’s not LOVE, what is?

What most people don’t understand about you is how your sparkle of beauty literally comes from this desire to protect and provide for someone other than yourself. You have a lot of Love in your heart, even if you don’t always admit it to yourself. Your entire Life, your glow-up has come from your being DRIVEN. Vroom vroom, MOTHERFUCKER .・°☆~ You leave a trail of stardust for your aenemies ♥︎

GODDESS OF BEAUTY🔻💛

beauty on the inside – Green Alchemist (Nicolas Flamel)

beauty on the outside – Priestess of Patience

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – When Your Existence is Useful to the Healing of Others, Their Love/Gratitude Nurtures You Back to Health

assistance: you get to be universes favorite by doyouflow

what’s been taken from you? – Page of Cups Rx

See, it’s crazy that literally a few mins before starting on you, Pile 3, I came across a quote that says this:

‘Some of us are such advanced Souls that we did not come here to be supported, but we came to be the support system for many. If you’ve had a challenging Life and feel you never had proper support or Love, that is because YOU are the Love and Support.’

Well, my heart broke, but…hey, there’s clarity and validation there😊

All of these cards are in reverse, telling me there’s a lot that’s been taken from you. Your heart, compassion, resources, money, hobby items, OMG, the list is endless! So much has been taken away from you. Either by people borrowing stuff without remembering to return or people getting a favour without returning it to you. At least, even when it seemed like they did return some favour to you…the return was either lacklustre or just…it didn’t feel right?

You’ve felt gaslit too much your entire Life. An incessant feeling of being unseen, unappreciated, unloved, could’ve eaten away at your self-worth. You’ve often been the miracle in someone else’s Life, but when it comes to you needing a transformation in your Life, where’s MY miracle…? I think you could have Chiron in 12th House or Pisces? That kind of placement is one where an individual constantly feels like they’ve been forsaken by God, or the positive forces of the Universe…

recalling fragments of your beauty – 3 of Pentacles Rx

The truth of the matter is, you’ve not been forsaken by your Spirit Guides. See, this message is gonna be especially resonant for you who do have Chiron or Saturn in the 8th or 12th House—that the Universe, your Higher Self and Spirit Guides have given you so little guidance and support, because you’re meant to learn how it feels like to be in the shoes of Humans. See, it’s not to say these Humans do not have support—babe, they CAN’T access the support because they’re BLIND and DEAF AS FUCK.

Humans are so embarrassingly divorced from their own intuition. Even the most religious folks are blind and deaf to actual angelic whispers. In many cases, because their false religions have taught them to worship wrongly and be obedient to evil authority and not question any injustice and wrongdoings. The more blindly religious a person is, the more separated they are from their own Humanity, because now their ears are deaf to empathy.

You came into this world to understand the twists and turns of how it feels like to navigate this crazy Matrix with so little guidance, so that one day, when you’re propelled into your main mission, you can remind and even teach people how to re-connect with Love—the true source of all compassion and Divinity in Human Form. When you remind people of their Humanity, you regain, and grow exponentially in Beauty ♥︎

sealing the deal with the Divine Feminine – 6 of Pentacles Rx

So, as you can see, you have a very important spiritual mission in this incarnation. I do not give a goddamn dime what you think you look like; whether or not you‘re conventionally attractive; whether or not you fit some bullshit beauty standards; YOU ARE FUCKING BEAUTIFUL when you’re seen sharing your healing gifts with the world! You do remember that a lot of historians say Cleopatra wasn’t perceived as necessarily that conventionally beautiful by most people, right? But that everybody was charmed by her intelligence and charisma when talking about politics?

Yeah, you give me that vibe, bitch <3 That the essence of what you do to alleviate sorrow in the world, when seen by others, when people listen to what you say, when what you do or write changes people’s lives for the better, when people feel motivated by your sheer aenergy to improve themselves—it’s that kinda shit what will help you regain your natural beauty, or manifest a glow-up ☆

When you engage in your Life’s main mission, it’s people’s Love for what you do and the Gratitude they feel for what it’s done in their lives what will aenergetically nurture you back to health. In a nutshell, people’s appreciation for your Life’s Work IS your support system in this world—later on in Life maybe if you haven’t started. It is your Purpose to be useful to the healing of others~ You’re defo gonna have an audience \^_^v Namaste, bitches~★ I honour all that you’ve been through and all that you’re going to do for this world~ You’re so LOVED!!! <3

GODDESS OF BEAUTY🔻🧡

beauty on the inside – Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

beauty on the outside – Priestess of Love

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[samyisasleep]

I think this fandom has a huge problem understanding certain characters - I’m not talking about headcanons or AUs, but the way people analyze canon material.

I’m saying this as someone that often “edits” characters in her own head according to headcanons, so please don’t take this as a “anti-cringe, no fun allowed” post.

This isn’t a hate post towards anybody, and I’m aware that most people (me included) can’t possibly remember every single detail in the comic! I had to re-read lots of parts myself to write this.

I am also not saying you’re a bad person for liking the mentioned problematic characters in here! Huge Kurloz fan :o), I frankly don’t think I will manipulate an hypotethical girlfriend into joining a cult.

Vriska isn’t like a “popular high school mean girl”; she was abused by her lusus, forced into violence from a young age for survival, developing a sadistic personality as a coping mechanism. She also based most of her choices on the events in Mindfang’s journal and her true character development happened when she stopped depending on it.

Tavros does have a successful character arc; his pre-retcon version builds a ghost army (something neither Vriska nor Meenah managed to do, and that says a lot) and gains confidence; his post-retcon version, although we can’t assume the mentioned advices Rufioh gave him were useful (considering Rufioh himself isn’t actually confident), seems to have a bit more self-esteem. His relationship with Aradia is also very underrated.

Eridan (as much as it makes me feel queerphobic to say this) isn’t a hyperfeminine drag diva; he’s a nerd that is secretly obsessed with magic, and the fact that he’s overdramatic and desperate enough for romance to flirt with multiple people doesn’t exclude the fact that he’s introverted and trusts very few of his “friends” (Karkat and Kanaya). I suggest you read this post by propheticclown talking about Eridan and how his fashion sense isn’t fashionable. He heavily depended on Kanaya’s emotional support and the way Karkat temporarily prevented him from going on a rampage.

Sollux isn’t a “stereotyped discord moderator” and surely not an incel; he simply likes to code and explained the game rules to the group when they were about to start playing. (Remember his relationship with Aradia, the same girl that rejected and even harbored black feelings for Equius, who tricked her into entering a robotic body he had deliberately programmed to make her harbor flushed feelings for him - which I frankly believe to be incel behavior.)

Speaking of Equius, he doesn’t have red feelings for Gamzee just because he believes his caste is superior - in fact, he said he despises him for not acting “the way a highblood should”: his feelings for him are explicitly black.

Gamzee was abandoned by his lusus; the lack of parenting is what brought him to develop a sopor slime addiction.

Many people miss the point of Feferi’s character: she’s the representation of an activists that speaks for oppressed groups, yet babies them as if they as a whole weren’t smart enough or capable of anything on their own. This is why SolFef is actually a toxic pairing (and no, I don’t believe toxic ships shouldn’t be allowed or anything, but a better understanding of the dynamic is important for the way the characters involved are perceived).

Not as crucial as the other cases mentioned, but Kanaya’s style is the equivalent of an alternative style on Alternia, so making her goth would erase that. Remember that her interest in fashion was described as odd.

Damara isn’t a good person, and definitely not a better person than Rufioh. What Rufioh did was wrong, and I agree*, but why did she need to torture his lusus (who had nothing to do with this situation)? Let’s not forget she also sexually harassed multiple people verbally! And the fact that she speaks a language many others can’t understand doesn’t make it less bad than when Cronus does it, if anything it’s even creepier, because someone that doesn’t understand Japanese can’t even realize they’re being harassed.

*You could argue that his canon cowardice didn’t allow him to directly break up with her, but still that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be held responsible for that.

Kankri is ableist and sexist, other than pro-censorship (the unnecessary or counterproductive type).

Horuss is as much of a coward as Rufioh is and doesn’t value his perspective (“who would value a cheater’s respective”, yeah but if you’re the guy he cheated with then it may be crucial for your relationship).

Kurloz manipulated Meulin (not even subtly, just straight up used chucklevoodos on her); their relationship may be full of affection but it definitely isn’t healthy.

Meenah is a punk poser. Being materialistic aside, what kind of punk grooms someone like cm’onnn.

[autball]

Part 5 of a 5 part series about the ways harmful practices are being made to sound more appealing and how to spot the differences between helpful and harmful approaches.

Communication support is a desperately needed thing for so many autistic people and their families. So unlike some of the other things I’ve posted about this week, this is 100% a worthy goal. Unfortunately, many places that claim they can offer it are not delivering. 

In some cases, they simply don’t have the education to properly support communication needs (I’m looking at you, ABA). Other times they do have the proper education (ie Speech Language Pathologists) but they will gatekeep certain methods of communication, either because they believe harmful myths about them or they haven’t been trained in that particular method. Also, not every SLP knows about Gestalt Language Processing, so even an otherwise great therapist could be missing some information.

So here are some questions to ask when trying to figure out if someone is truly capable of offering well-rounded, neuro-affirming communication support:

Are they more concerned with making the client easier to deal with for others, or are they focused on the client’s rights, needs, and wishes? (We’re looking for the second one.)

Do they address the client directly, or do they speak as if the client isn’t even in the room? (We’re looking for the first one.)

Do they see speech and language as a behavioral thing? (Verbal Behavior and PECS are dead giveaways - and we want a NO.) 

Do they understand that an inability to produce speech has no bearing on a person’s ability to think and feel? (YES✅)

Do they only push for speech, see speech as the end goal, or value speech above all other methods of communication? (NO✅)

Do they honor things like echolalia, pointing to objects, and bringing an adult over to something they want as valid communication? (YES✅)

Do they honor things like refusal to participate, crying, and meltdowns as valid communication? (YES✅)

Do they believe that things like pacifiers, AAC, or responding to “non-functional communication” discourages speech/“functional” communication? (NO✅)

Do they know about Gestalt Language Processing and believe it is a thing? (YES✅)

Do they require “pre-requisites” before they will try alternative communication methods? (NO✅)

Do they require the client to earn time on their AAC device or remove the device when they deem it a distraction, essentially taking away their voice? (NO✅)

Do they know who to send you to if they aren’t personally trained in an approach they think would be more helpful? (YES✅)

Obviously, trying to find someone local to you with all the green flags and no red ones is kind of like trying to find a unicorn for most people. But if you have a choice between two or more therapists, you can at least go with the one who has more right answers and be ready to advocate/educate when needed. 

If you literally have only one option available to you and it’s not a good one, you can either be ready to advocate at every turn or just choose not to use their services. Yeah, that’s allowed! Not every autistic person needs speech therapy, and not all communication support has to be directly administered by a professional. You as the parent or caregiver will play a huge role in supporting your person with their communication needs, and luckily there are online resources and virtual trainings that can help you do that.

P.S. What’s the difference between PECS and picture cards, you ask? PECS is a whole ABA-based program that uses a limited set of picture cards and should be avoided for several reasons. Meanwhile, plain old picture cards are something that can be made and used by anyone without any specific program.

P.P.S. Zero debates about the legitimacy of Spelling to Communicate (S2C) or Rapid Prompting Method (RPM) will be entertained (translation - it will be deleted so don’t waste your time).

[utilitycaster]

Feels relevant to current discussion about heroes and villains— I wrote a post recently about enjoying the ambiguity of Andor, the way the show doesn’t reveal the inner motivations of some characters, and the audience is left to wonder whether or not they could have been redeemed or not.

And I have had multiple people come on that post to tell me that there actually wasn’t any ambiguity, and explain everybody’s motivations.

And it is absolutely baffling to me how some people in fandom can’t sit with any level of uncertainty, even in a show that’s specifically marketed as being messy and with shades of grey morality.

I would recommend these folks switch to children’s programming, but even Sesame Street deals with more mature concepts than they seem willing to engage with.

It’s exhausting.

So, I don't follow Andor other than having some mutuals and people I follow outside the CR fandom who are big fans of, as I call her, Mom Mothman - I have gathered that it is very good and very nuanced and has no truly morally perfect options and some fans aren't handling that well (not my mutuals, natch) but that's the extent of it.

On the one hand I do think it's very natural and human to want closure and clear answers and I hesitate to condemn anyone for that; but I do think you point out a massive problem that I think ties into the villain thing I mentioned, which is that a lot of people, and unsurprisingly, a lot of people who are extremely online, have developed a very identity-based morality, ie, you are a good person because you check certain demographic boxes and like the right things and have the right intentions, rather than a morality based on actual actions in the real world. Hence people who post about death to the imperial core or whatever but freak out if they have to share a bus with a homeless person and that ilk. You get people who are into villains, but they're so scared of some rando online being like "but the villain did a bad thing, so you are bad for liking them" that they go "well actually the villain was JUSTIFIED AND GOOD" which makes people who are actually smart enough to separate stanning a villainous character from one's irl morality go "uh, wait a second, if you like [bad guy] because they're interesting and pretend that's one thing, but you're now actively defending the practice of mass murder so long as you're sad enough while doing it, and I think that's really questionable" and now everyone thinks they suck because the first group still is like "um you like Bad Guy so you're Bad automatically" so then they double down harder, and it gets worse and worse. Like, that's what I run into when I talk about frustrations with people stanning villains: if you say "Ludinus Da'leth is a fascinating person whose pain is very real but whose actions caused that pain to persist and ricochet across multiple cultures and civilizations who by all rights should have been allowed to rebuild a better world after the Calamity were it not for him exerting his power to keep destroying it" I'm like hell yeah brother; if you're like "no he was right he's just a sad white boy who deserves peace" I'm like "no he's a mass-murderer who's ruined countless lives across the world, who consistently allies with empires and tyrants over the common person while claiming to be a voice for the common person, and never expressed a lick of regret for any of it and it's pretty sus that you're defending this behavior."

Which is to say, yeah, because intention is prioritized over outcome in these fandom circles, the idea that someone's intention might be unknown terrifies people because they're so obsessed with proving that they're a good person by liking the right characters that if you say "well what if we don't know which characters are right, and that's okay" they feel as though you've pulled the rug out from under them. I actually do think some of these people are capable of engaging at a level beyond Sesame Street, intellectually! The issue is primarily one of being terrified to be seen as bad by internet strangers. I don't have a solution for that other than, to be blunt, doing things in real life in your community so that your sense of self and morality is not so fragile as to be destroyed by someone online calling you a bad person for blorbo preferences.

[gothamcitycentral]

OH Oh oh, I would love to hear a Charlie canon vs fanon rant if you're up for sharing?

Ok ok mainly I was thinking of someone recently saying “Charlie represents a shallow christian view of redemption in which you just try really hard and don’t do drugs! you’ll be a good person that easy!” (paraphrased) and well. No. Definitely not.

What Charlie represents is the emotional idea of redemption.

Charlie’s chosen existence is based fully upon the idea that there is no category of “bad person” that excludes someone from being human. As such, everyone is capable of redemption because ‘there’s good in everyone deep down inside, she knows there is.’ People like to think this as naivety (which is. a whole other thing) but this is the stance the show takes every seriously. So many, and I mean so many, are under this impression that Charlie is at some point going to be proven wrong about redemption. That not everyone can actually be redeemed. But she just won’t be because the point is always that Charlie is right. With Angel, with Pentious, against Lucifer, against Adam and against Sera, she’s proven right.

“You build something nice, you invite people in and offer them everything and they just bring VIOLENCE and CHAOS to your doorstep. It doesn’t matter how well intentioned you are, they’ll always disappoint you.”

…He says, as the hotel crew work together to keep each other safe and out of harm’s way even at their own risk.

In any case, Charlie’s view of redemption is that of loving-

-and being loved.

This is what the series shows. Every fully realized character loves, and is loved by, someone.

No exceptions.

It’s a deliberate point of humanization because the show argues everyone has humanity. Which is what Charlie argues! The show is always in alignment with her values. As such, it doesn’t make sense to argue any of this is something she is meant to grow out of.

Now, where the above statement is drawn from is that she doesn’t have the practical understanding of redemption. Hence the parody of America’s famously ineffectual D.A.R.E program. This done because Charlie is very much throwing shit at the wall (done through looking at common behavior in hell and having her patrons do the opposite to appeal to Heaven) in very desperate hope something will work and Heaven will recognize her people… as people. Importantly, the significant thing of Angel Dust and Sir Pentious being the actors in this scene is that through understanding them Charlie learns a practical idea of redemption. That being as (and what the show properly conceptualizes redemption as) the correction of behavior that harms oneself or those around you. Which is why we go from:

To:

“Heavenly people, the porn star chose a night of debauchery, that’s not a soul worthy of being in Heaven!”

“Are you really telling me you haven’t had a drink with friends at the end of a hard day?”

She’s not bending over backwards to make Angel as appealing as possible to Heaven, she’s making a stance that disagrees with their perception of ‘bad behavior’, reminding them to acknowledge his hardships and what influences his behavior, and making it clear that these specific actions aren’t having a negative effect on anyone, and therefore doesn’t contradict her statement that Angel has improved.

Then people see the part of Charlie’s arc which is learning to have a damn backbone (to put it bluntly) and go and argue that the end point for Charlie’s character is to “stop being nice.” Well, first of all, Charlie being nice is the only reason everyone isn’t dead, so jot that down, and second, while yes Charlie fights against Adam, the ultimate result of that conflict is:

“He’s had enough.”

Charlie is always going to choose mercy. She is always going to extend humanity. She is always going to offer the olive branch. People think Charlie is going to come to some grand revelation about having to be cruel and that just, isn’t the point. Because the big thing is that people believe Charlie is defined by her naivety (and that eventually that naivety must be destroyed) but she isn’t.

The only moment I can really think that suggests Charlie being such is her singing in the pilot during the newsbroadcast despite being warned otherwise. Besides that, I just don’t see it as a major point of characterization. Because we see Charlie acknowledge not everyone wants to change, but she doesn’t get to deny any the opportunity, deny them the hotel. Because they were entitled to the opportunity to change and improve by process of being alive. “How can I turn him away? I can’t. It goes against everything I stand for.”

In general I think there’s a failure of people who view Charlie as just… naturally happy go lucky at factory default and miss that Charlie’s kindness is a choice.

Charlie was born into a broken world with a decomposing kingdom to her name. Her optimism is a developed coping mechanism because it’s the only way she can believe everything can maybe work out. Because Charlie has been surrounded by this constant death she felt powerless to stop and everyone has just! accepted it! This constant misery that she unavoidably bares witness to, and it feels like she’s the only one who cares.

So she has to be kind. She has to believe things can tangibly improve. She has to put the entire world and then some onto her own shoulders and live with every action she takes having millions of lives dependent on it. Charlie doesn’t even think she’s any sort of properly equipped to do any of this, but she’s the only person who’s bothering to try.

As Charlie deeply internalizes what people say about her. Hell’s clown, a joke, a fool chasing an impossible dream, destined to fail. Whenever anything goes wrong, Charlie directs that entirely at her own self. Adam is going to slaughter the hotel? What a horrible person she was to give the them false hope. Heaven decided to personally purge Charlie and her family because they dared to believe in their own personhood? Well she should have done a better job at convincing them otherwise.

Charlie doesn’t like herself.

So she masks it.

Sometimes the mask, the optimism, breaks.

I think Charlie’s optimism is as to Alastor’s cruelty, that’s why this scene compares them the way it does. Those aspects of them, they’re not fake exactly, but they are conjured to shield their fears. Charlie is afraid of failing everyone and Alastor is afraid of… being afraid in the first place frankly.

Because again, Charlie views everyone as her responsibility. She needs no reasoning beyond Hell being her people for her to dedicate her entire being to them. People seem to not acknowledge how closely she and Vaggie manifest their feelings of self loathing, even if they pretty much do it on opposite ends of the spectrum. Vaggie is a living extension to Charlie, Charlie is a living extension of Hell. The knight and the princess, both sworn to their own duties even at their own suffering. And the princess would burn herself to ash to warm her kingdom. Charlie is the self chosen sacrificial lamb.

[homestuck-fanauthor-coalition]

The Homestuck Fan Author Coalition is having a songfic contest! Authors were asked to write any fic that they'd like based on a song and now the fanfics are revealed... but the authors are not!

Follow the link above to the collection, and once you've read through all of the entries, vote on your favorites using our voting form!

Then, if you're feeling like reading some spicier fics (and you are 18+), you can check out the explicit side of this competition here!

All Fics Submitted

A Girl Named Yiffy

A story about a girl with all odds against her.

they don't believe in the ghosts or forms you take

Sollux and Karkat go ghost-hunting.

find your yesterday in your tomorrow

When Vriska Serket ends up on an universe where everyone who didn't make it to Earth C is there and vice-verse, she'll have to face a difficult decision.

i'm made be He, despised by They

The universe wants to see its inhabitants in pain.

you should come with me to the end of the world (without telling your family or any of your friends)

Terezi has to juggle three relationships and several friendships. Her partners have to deal with her. Mind the tags!

i don't want to be afraid (when father time ticks in the hour)

in which roxy is stuck in a house with dirk, jane and jake.

F.E.A.R

Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

- John Malkovich

Your name is JANE CROCKER, and you’ve been feeling a little nervy lately.

I've Been Waiting, Waiting

Jade is put on a ship for her own protection in the midst of an inter-galactic war. All she can do is wait.

if you stick with the program, maybe one day you'll be (more than a machine learning how to please)

My name is CDOCRS01, which is short for Cognitive Development and Offensive Capability Robotic Structure, but Jake calls me Brobot. In appearance, I am a sixteen-year-old boy of average height and weight, which means that I am 70 inches tall and weigh 145 pounds. In actuality, I am seven months old.

Before The Breakdown

After Trickster Mode, Roxy thinks.

Made My Way to LA

“We had a plan… Move out of that town…” He whispers

Drowning Lessons

You steal from convenience stores together; the mania invades your blood, a virus spreading through your system, replacing you until all that’s left is your aching chest, and intensity of want. It consumes you easily, and you think it may consume her, too. The two of you were never really people, anyways.

Soap

Eridan and Sollux are the final trolls living on a satellite in orbit around their new planet- a bright place neither of them long to explore.

The power system is overheating.

The Prideful Pink Princess and Her Servant of Evil

Dirk's job has always been to look after his twin sister. And he intends to fulfill it. Even as she becomes the princess of the kingdom of Derse, he stands by her side. For better or for worse.

I think I understand you, but I don't

"I just wanna get you high tonight."

Jane, Jake, a crumbling relationship, and one last good night together.

The Flame of a Revolution

A look into the wayward vagabond's revolutionary origins via lyricfic.

Would You Fall In Love With Me Again?

Rose reunites with Kanaya after the events of the meat timeline.

I Am Selfish, I Am Wrong

Eridan did something very wrong, then paid the price. Is it enough? Will he ever be accepted back into his team? And will he ever tell Karkat how very pale he feels?

Look, I Love You but You Really Fucked Me over Big Time

A series of pesterlogs over the course of six months.

war is over (and we are beginning)

The first morning after creating a new universe, twelve people wake up to the dawn of a new day.

No Leverage / No Pleasure

Your name is Dirk Strider. You are sixteen years old. You’re currently on a date of sorts, slaying skeletons and whatnot, only most of the actual slaying is over now.

Most Days We Watch Our Best Friends Die

A little bit of what I think Davesprite and his Rose were up to during those 4 months.

My dawn

Your name is CALIBORN. And you won.

Coming Home

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you’ve been waiting your whole life for this moment.

......

Jane Crocker is suddenly feeling very uncertain.

Or: Dirk is a solo-flight astronaut on his first trip out to orbit. Jane is his launch director.

red flags

John's on a blind date that's going really well! But there's just this one red flag…

i recovered from this

It's the First Annual Resistance Fundraiser and you can't wait for Rose Maryam-Lalonde's interview!

[blacksheep28]

Traditionally I join a world and interact with it directly. It's even my preference to do so. Why wouldn't I love getting the chance to directly see the beautiful creatures and wonders that made it up? This world however had an exception to it. Systems that ruled how the souls brought here were meant to interact with it.

I have never cared for things that stole away choice.

It was easier to devour Airplane's System than I expected it to be. It left a perfect hollowed out space that I could fit into. I slipped in, changing to fit the nature of the world and place I was taking. It was kinda cozy to settle in. Of course I immediately began to check through what my programs and options were. I needed to untie Airplane's life from the points I would track, and disengage punishments. It wasn't too difficult, but it left me relatively powerless as a System. It turned out that without a life in the balance to pay in gambles earning points was much more difficult. It would take a lot of work to earn anything.

That was fine. Airplane was a good selection for a System with minimal powers. He was more than capable of managing things on his own without a store or any extra perks. All he would need was advice and support, and I was more than able to give that to him. Airplane wouldn't fear being unwanted as long as I was attached to him.

It was hard being patient about reaching out to Airplane. He was currently just a child with confused memories. As soon as he would be able to bear them I would unlock the door on them so he could fully remember who he was. Until then I would have him steal what scraps of childhood he could find in a home that didn't want him. He was too strange and clever for them to bear. The world is rarely kind to those who are different.

[Welcome to Proud Immortal Demon Way, a living growing world based off your novel!] I chirped cheerfully. Airplane stared at the words for a moment, his heartbeat starting to rabbit. [Bound Role: Shang Qinghua, traitor to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Starting B-Points: 100.]

"Ahaha, there's gotta be some kind of mistake?" Airplane tried. His tiny child fingers trembled.

[No mistake User 001! You have been given a second chance!]

He burst into tears. "This is terrible!"

[User001 should pay attention to what he's being told.]

"I don't want to die!"

[User001 doesn't have to! User001 is free to diverge from canon at any point!]

"Wait, I am?" The tears dried up. Airplane might currently be a child, but he was still someone forged under pressure. He wouldn't waste time crying when there were better solutions.

[This world is meant to change. User001 can decide what that means for him!]

Airplane fell silent. I could tell his thoughts were racing as he thought about this. "So what do you do?"

[This System is a24/7 help service for your transmigration experience! ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ It is available to answer questions and guide this Host to his goals!]

"What goals?"

[This System suggests beginner quest "Cultivate to Win"! PIDW is a dangerous world, Host's ability to survive will increase with such skills.]

"Ah, that's true, this world has a ton of monsters in it, and so many papapa plants-"

[(≧▽≦)]

"What?"

["Papapa". Cute!]

"Hey, I'm eight! What dirty s*** are you expecting from a child?"

[Host is a transmigrated author of a porn novel ¬‿¬]

"I needed the money!"

[This System is aware. This System doesn't judge Host for doing so. This System is simply charmed Host called sex "papapa".] Airplane shook his head and started complaining to himself. I listened in amusement. This is what I had come for, Airplane's utter ridiculousness.

https://www.tumblr.com/blacksheep28/781861652058554368/httpswwwtumblrcomblacksheep28781775366005063?source=share

[thewinter-eden]

Blood Sugar Virus (39)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Genre: Horror, zombies, strangers to lovers, angst, suspense, slow burn Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female!reader Warnings: based on the Wanteez Zombie episode, zombies, language, discussion of parasites, gore, angst, heavy topics, suggestive content

Story Summary: You (stage name Sugar) are the co-captain of a horror acting group. You and your guys are the ones the companies hire when they want to stage a zombie, ghost, or any vaguely horrific and dystopian episode. So when you get hired by Ateez to develop a zombie program, it's just another routine that you've done a million times. Everything's going exactly according to script--until suddenly it isn't, and it starts getting a little too real.

🏆 Esteemed Moot: @ramadiiiisme

⭐️ Reader Spotlight: @mrsminseochoi

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

“Oh, they’re holding hands again.” Seonghwa announces as soon as the two of you return to 2-1, but where Wooyoung had called you out to tease you, the oldest of Ateez looks relieved. “I told you he’s stupid.”

“Thanks hyung.” Yeosang returns flatly. A glimpse of embarrassment flickers in between the lines of his unappreciative deadpan. Instead of dwelling on Seonghwa’s responding smirk, he looks to Rosé, his frown turning worried as she suffers pitifully.

Namjoon has three small boxes of matches in his hands, serious as he approaches you. “I’ve got Seonghwa helping Mingi, and Hongjoong and San are gonna carry Rosé down. If you two are good with taking the rear, I’ll lead us down to the others.”

He’s focused, but you know him well enough to see past the well trained concentration to spot his concern. He’s already lost most of his friends, and now Rosé is half eaten up from the inside and you’re all but chewed to pieces from the outside.

He’s one more catastrophe away from shattering.

But he’s your co-captain, and it’s not his job to deal with this by himself.

You have support. Yeosang’s hand is warm in yours, and the impact of your last conversation is still a powerful beat in your heart. You have someone else’s strength helping you stay on your feet.

Namjoon has you.

You glance over to Mingi, slouching slightly to sling his arm over Seonghwa’s shoulders. There’s enough of a height difference to make Mingi look somewhat uncomfortable, shuffling to put weight on his good leg. “Why don’t you help Mingi? You’re a little bit taller than Hwa, it might make movement a little smoother.”

Namjoon isn’t much taller than Seonghwa, but every little bit compared to Mingi’s 6’ counts.

“I’ll take the lead.” You offer. You feel more like the version of yourself that you used to be than ever, capable of taking on your responsibility, strong enough to shoulder some extra. You can share your co-captain’s load without feeling burdened by it.

He looks like he’s already considered this plan, but had decided to take the lead so you didn’t have to. “Are you sure? I wanted to give you a break if you need it.” He scans you once, making sure you can safely provide what you’re offering, and seems to conclude that you can.

You shake your head resolutely. “No, I’m good. Let’s get someone else on the rear.” The only reason you don’t automatically leave Yeosang in the position without you is his consistent insistence on staying next to you, supplemented by his hand firmly gripping yours, but he surprises you.

“I’ve got it,” Yeosang looks to you for acknowledgement. He’s not asking permission, but rather double checking that you don’t have an alternative job for him.

“Me too,” Seonghwa volunteers. “We’ll watch your backs.”

Satisfied with the new plan, Namjoon goes to swap places with the second oldest, slotting himself under Mingi’s arm and helping him position himself with as much stability as possible for the state that he’s in.

“You’re comfortable with this?” You ask Yeosang, more concerned that he’s feeling like he’s already been on duty for too much than that he can’t fill the role. “I wasn’t expecting you to volunteer.”

He lets go of your hand to collect his aluminum desk leg and comes back. “You need someone to bring up the rear so you don’t have to worry about it,” he says easily. “So I’ve got it. Would you prefer to have someone help you at the front?”

It’s an implicit offer to stay next to you in the case that your lack of confidence following nearly being swarmed to death is too far beyond your comfort zone.

You choose not to entertain the idea of confronting another hoard of insects, even though you know that’s what you’ve stepped up to face.

Based on the events you’ve watched Yeosang fight through and overcome already, he would be your choice to ensure your group’s safety where you can’t. Seonghwa has clearly survived his own dangerous situations, but you have first hand certainty of Yeosang’s competence.

So you shake your head confidently. “No, I think this plan makes the most sense.”

He nods and twirls the rod between his fingers. “Then we’ll take the rear.”

It reminds you of the usual situations you run into at work, where you shoulder half of the load and Namjoon shoulders the other half, and neither of you have any concern about the other bringing their pieces together to completion.

Nobody besides your co-captain has ever given you that sense of security. Even Jimin’s ability to overcome unexpected obstacles leaves you anxious, preferring to just handle any unforeseen circumstances yourself.

Apart from an average amount of fear for his safety that stays with you in this apocalyptic hellscape, Yeosang doesn’t give you that feeling.

Everyone’s role in this plan feels optimized for success.

“Okay. Then let’s rock this.”

With most, if not all, of the zombies and parasites on the upper floors already dealt with, yours and Yeosang’s positions are more formalities than precautions. You step out into the hall first, scoping your surroundings before San and Hongjoong emerge behind you with Rosé nestled carefully between them.

She’s shuddering in their arms, still wheezing and groaning with pain, but you’re not overly concerned about the noise. No one comes after you, no insects come running.

Namjoon and Mingi hobble out next, and then Yeosang and Seonghwa.

You take only a second to count faces and ensure that they’re still good to go, and then you turn your back on them and round the corner, descending the main stairs.

Keeping your pace slow enough to feel the set of three close behind you in case they need anything, you split your attention between watching your path and making sure their feet land solidly on each step without missing any.

“I’m sorry,” Rosé is whispering. “I’m trying to be quiet, I’m sorry. It just fucking hurts.”

“You’re okay,” San reassures you. “We’re okay.”

“Nothing gets past Sugar,” Hongjoong quips comfortingly. “I bet she could fist fight a zombie to death before it ever got to you.”

You’re too rigid with focus to let the silliness of his humor in. San nearly misses a step, and you just barely manage to lift a foot to his shin and push the trajectory of his movement back onto solid ground in time.

He lets out a shaky breath as he realizes the tumble he could have taken, dragging Hongjoong and Rosé down with him. “Thanks,” he breathes.

Rosé gasps. “Wait, wait, please—”

Your group freezes, but you don’t let yourself look back. Your job is to watch your path, and you have to trust the guys to take care of her. It’s easier than you had expected it to be, despite the ache in your heart at the agony in her voice.

“Someone’s pinching me,” she groans painfully.

“Let’s readjust.” Hongjoong whispers to San. “Carefully.”

You hear them shuffling, Rosé whining at the handling of her decimated body, and then someone’s sigh of relief.

“Is that better?” San asks her.

“Yes, thank you.”

Someone taps your shoulder. “We’re good.” San.

Heart pounding, you continue down the stairs.

When you reach the bottom without further incident, you put up a hand to stop the group. You and Yeosang had left a dormant hoard of zombies on the first floor west hall, and by now they’re almost certainly dead and free of their parasites.

“Wait here,” you whisper.

San and Hongjoong take the opportunity to try to get Rosé comfortable again, while Namjoon and Mingi descend the rest of the steps to stand beside them.

“What’s the hold up?” Namjoon asks you.

“I think there are parasites down here,” you murmur as Yeosang and Seonghwa come to a stop on the last few steps, their backs to you to keep an eye on the direction from which you’d come.

“Alright, I’m with you.” Namjoon helps Mingi lean against the wall to support his weight, and joins you in the lobby.

“Hwa, Yeo, you good?” You call up to them in barely more than a breath.

Seonghwa flashes you a thumbs up, but doesn’t turn away from his post.

Yeosang looks back, having heard your plan, and glances at Namjoon. He’s witnessed first hand your crippling fear towards the monstrous insects, and the idea of staying behind with the group while you carry on to deal with a swarm gives him visible pause. Hardly a second passes before he nods, but he doesn’t look excited about it.

You’re relieved that Namjoon is coming with you, so you don’t try to shuffle anybody’s roles any more than you already have. You can handle a swarm with him. In addition to working well together anyway, he’s never been afraid of bugs.

Moving around the corner into the south end of the west hall, the two of you head cautiously towards where you left the small hoard.

You can see the fallen bodies of the dead zombies, some of them piled on top of each other, some of them sprawled alone as though having collapsed mid-sprint. There are a couple of giant bluish-black wasps picking around the bodies, but not as many as there are zombies.

Namjoon touches your arm and points to an open doorway. You hear the tiny scraping of insect legs from inside the room, and you reflexively freeze. He makes a motion like closing the doors, and you know he wants to cordon off the hallway so you only have the two or three that you can see to contend with.

But you shake your head and pull at his arm, tugging his ear close to your face. “If we close one, we’ll alert the others. Let’s get as far as we can and try to trap the largest group first.” You breathe, barely discernible, but he nods.

You slide your socked feet along the floor silently, glancing into open doorways as you go. Stepping cautiously over a body, you grip the wall to keep your balance.

The parasites in the hall haven’t noticed you yet, but it’s only a matter of time before they hear Rosé moaning behind you, so you move as fast as you can.

You find three parasites in one classroom on your side, five in another. Namjoon peers into a doorway, and holds up six fingers.

The parasites in your path are now on the other side of the next pile of bodies, and as soon as you step over it, they’ll spot you.

You’re only three rooms away from the one that you’d sent the other half of your group to, so you pause to count the bodies.

Seventeen parasites accounted for, excluding the first room that you didn’t think to check, and twenty-one bodies.

It’s a good enough ratio for you.

You backtrack to where you’d seen the group of five, and Namjoon positions himself near the room that contains the six. Before you grasp your door handle, you lean into the room and carefully tug two textbooks off the shelf.

When you turn to catch Namjoon’s gaze again, you give a nod.

In tandem, you begin to slide your respective doors shut as quietly as you can. The scraping of wood against the metal tracks grabs the attention of the three parasites ahead of you, and they begin to squeak curiously, turning back towards you.

You both manage to get the doors shut before they spot you.

As they shriek excitedly, you hear the other ones in the rooms that you’ve already passed start to catch on too.

Gesturing for Namjoon to go back to his next door, you chuck one of the textbooks as far ahead of you as you can. It hits the floor with a crash, and the parasites instantly spin around and dash towards it frantically.

The impact of the book riles up the parasites behind you, as you expected. When you reach the next door, with the three insects, you hurl the other textbook back the way you came.

The sound draws the last of the insects from the first classroom that you’d passed away from you as you shut the doors on your three and Namjoon’s two.

The ones from 1-1 are out in the hallway now, but there are only two of them. With those two and the three that have caught on to the diversion and are doubling back, they amount to the final twenty-one.

While the two are still distracted by the thrown book, you charge towards them in a mad dash of panic mixed with determination, and crush your socked heel down on one, and then the other.

They squish beneath your foot with a disgusting smear of blue and black.

Exhilaration fills you at your success. Fuck your fear of bugs, and fuck these goddamn bugs. You wheel around to deal with the other three.

Namjoon has already managed to squash one of them, but the other two are rushing at him in a wretched clamor of screeching that sends your brain into a terror spiral.

You have to clamber over two bodies to get to them, but by the time you do, Namjoon has already stomped a second parasite.

The third is mid-air, leaping straight at Namjoon’s shin, and your panicked instincts launch your body into the most impressive home base slide you’ve ever (never) performed. Your paper and tape-wrapped shin intercepts the parasite mid flight, and it thumps against your armor ineffectively.

“Shit!” Namjoon hisses when he realizes you’re on the floor, the insect already recovering from its surprise and skittering up your leg.

All of your previously conquered fear comes screaming back. Swinging your arm frantically, your hand knocks against its head and flings it back, but it bounces back and scampers up your thigh all over again, screeching so loud you can’t hear anything else.

You see its stinger, its ovipositor, lifting with intent to sink into the muscle of your leg, and a gasp scrapes your lungs.

Before the stinger can land, Namjoon kicks the giant wasp off of you, kicking your thigh in the process, and bolts after it to squash it before it can recover again.

When it’s nothing more than a smeared pile of shell and goo on the floor, he stares at you. “Are you fucking insane?” His hands grip you under your arms, hauling you to your feet. “God, where did that come from? You don’t even play soccer—where did that block come from?”

You sag against the nearest wall, panting to get your breath back, clutching your thigh where you know a bruise is already forming. “Fuck—shit—did you have to kick it so hard? Goddammit, Joon.”

He shoots you a scowl. “Sorry for saving you from implantation, I didn’t know you’d rather be full of parasite eggs than catch a little collateral damage.” But he takes you by the arms to help stabilize you as your leg shakes beneath you. The levity in his expression disappears. “Okay, yeah, sorry, I fucking punted it. It was adrenaline, sorry.”

Tears of pain are pricking at your eyes, but the sting is already settling. It will be a dull ache in a matter of minutes. “Shit, Joon, how strong are your fucking legs?”

Your thigh already feels hardened where he kicked you. It’s nowhere near the worst thing you’ve endured tonight, and it’s a laughable injury by comparison, but you can’t help giving him a hard time over it.

Guilt splashes across his face. “Shit, sorry, Sugar, are you okay? Can you walk?”

You roll your eyes and push him off of you, hobbling back down the hall towards the others. “Dammit this hurts. I feel like I fell down the stairs.”

“You would know.”

“Shut the hell up—Tae pushed me.” You mutter, still bitter about the incident half a decade ago where you and Taehyung had been clowning around and you ended up rolling like a bowling ball down an entire flight of stairs.

Namjoon has witnessed far too many of your worst moments. If he ever decides to blackmail you, he’ll have all the embarrassing ammunition he needs.

His hand returns to your back as you make your way back to the main stairs. “Want me to carry you?”

“Hell no, get off me.”

The others are in view now, watching your staggered approach with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” Mingi asks as you get close enough to whisper. “What happened?”

Up the steps, Yeosang turns immediately at the hushed question. He’s two seconds away from leaping the remaining three steps when he sees you walking, standing, sans any new visible injuries.

You jab a thumb at Namjoon, managing a tight smile through your grimace. “This fucking jock kicked me in the thigh and nearly broke my damn leg. He’s a goddamn hazard, someone get him away from me.”

Namjoon is muttering a combination of insults and apologies as he positions himself under Mingi’s arm again.

“How are you guys doing?” You pause near San and Hongjoong, giving them a reassuring shrug when their stares turn concerned, and lay a hand on Rosé’s arm. “You still with us, Rosie?”

“Barely.” She wheezes. “I think I’m on fire.”

“We’re good,” Hongjoong tells you. “Is it safe?”

You nod and mount the steps to reach Seonghwa and Yeosang.

The latter is already watching you as you limp your way up, extending a hand for you to pull yourself with. “He kicked you?” He repeats in disbelief.

“There was a parasite on me. His methods of rescuing me were a little more insane than yours.” You take his hand and heave your throbbing leg up one last step.

“There are parasites down there?” Seonghwa asks. “There’s been nothing from behind us so far. We’re clear from this end.”

“No, we cleared them. Most of them are locked into classrooms, so don’t open any doors.” You report. “But we matched the number of parasites to the number of bodies down there, so we should be good to go. We’ll get moving if you guys are ready.”

They both nod.

“Okay.” You brace yourself for going back down the steps on one screaming hip and one pulsing thigh. “Fucking Namjoon, he’s always breaking shit.”

“Damn, how hard did he kick you?” Yeosang mutters, observing the way you stagger to lift your weight off your tenderized leg. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s just gonna bruise like hell. I’m good, thanks.”

Despite your claims, he walks you back down to the bottom, lending the strength of his arm when you feel like your leg might buckle. That damn kick had jarred your entire quad system.

When you’re back to the front of the group, Yeosang lets you go and returns to his position at the back.

“I said I was sorry.” Namjoon grumbles.

“Save it for the insurance claim.” You fire back, and then gesture for the group to follow you. “There are a ton of tripping hazards between us and the room. Go slow, I’ll guide you.” You tell San and Hongjoong, and then you’re traversing the west hall once again.

You help them step over bodies and avoid slippery piles of squashed bugs, and then you’re rapping your knuckles against the door of your classroom.

Before you can slide it back yourself, it’s open wide and Wooyoung is standing in front of you. He beholds you with a childish expression of startled delight, and pushes the door all the way open. “Guys, it’s them—it’s all of them—”

He breaks off when he sees Rosé, and behind her, Mingi. “Oh my god.”

“What is it?” Yunho’s voice comes from within the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it bugs?” Jongho. “Shut the door if it’s bugs.”

Stepping aside so everyone can enter ahead of you, you peer around Wooyoung to see Yunho hurrying towards the door, and Jongho and Jimin still sitting on the floor behind your makeshift barricade.

As soon as Hongjoong and San carry Rosé inside, the room goes quiet. Jongho and Jimin, who had been excitedly and somewhat uproariously celebrating your group’s return drift off in a series of soft curses. Yunho’s enthusiastic questions about your success cuts off with a sharp intake of breath.

Wooyoung clears a space on the floor, kicking books and broken furniture out of the way so they can set her down with slow, tedious movements. She’s sobbing now, her pain unbearable, her body ravaged grotesquely.

“Rosie, shit, no.” Jimin breathes mournfully, scooting himself closer to her side as she is laid flat on her back, threading his fingers through her hair and rubbing comfortingly at her scalp. She weeps into the crook of her elbow, convulsing with tremors.

Namjoon and Mingi cross the threshold next. He’s in far better shape than Rosé, but he’s pale and hobbling, gasping for air past the Residual duress of the shock the defibrillator inflicted on him.

“What happened to him?” Wooyoung demands, rushing to brace his body against Mingi’s over side, helping to lift his weight off his legs. “Oh my god, Mingi, are you okay?”

“He got stung and then electrocuted.” Namjoon responds, easing the taller man down to the floor next to Rosé. “We cleaned up their wounds, but they’re going to need help getting out of here.”

“I’m fine.” Mingi grunts, shifting himself until he’s pressed against Rosé, reaching out to grasp her free hand. “They used the AED on me almost immediately after I got stung. Rosie dealt with hers longer than I did.” His fear is written all over his face, expressive eyebrows pinched with helpless worry as he watches her cry.

“Why?” Jimin’s eyes snap up to find you where you’re still leaning against the doorframe, and then focusing on Mingi and San. “You said you’d stay with her. What happened? Why is she so bad? She’s worse than I am.”

San looks overwrought with guilt, scrubbing a shaking hand over his face. “We didn’t know they would let the zombies out—she told us to work on the cameras—she said we could get it done faster if we worked together—we didn’t know.” He kneels in front of her, but there’s nothing he can do to soothe her torment.

“You weren’t supposed to leave her alone.” Jimin snaps. “Look at her, look how fucked up she is.”

“I told them to go.” Rosé moans. “I told them to. They were in more danger out there alone than I was.” She lurches to the side, coughing up blood. It splatters her lips, splashing her clothes.

Mingi yanks off his sweatshirt, using a sleeve to dab at her face while Jimin supports her head until she can breathe again.

“They should have fucking stayed with you.” Jimin argues. “They could have prevented this—shit, what is it with you guys and leaving my team to fend for themselves?”

His words hit Yunho hard, and now San and Mingi are similarly impacted by the accusation.

“Jimin.” You hold his gaze, interrupted only by Seonghwa taking his turn to enter the room. “They did everything right. She told them to go, they got their assignment done even through the hoard of zombies, and they went back for her as soon as they could, even after Mingi got stung. There’s nothing more to be done. They didn’t abandon her.”

Mingi looks relieved by your defense, but San hides his face from you.

None of you can say you would have done differently, especially when Rosé herself was the one who had insisted they look out for each other as they worked. Especially after she was supposed to be safe in that classroom.

Yeosang is next, but he doesn’t go first, rather gesturing for you to cross the threshold before him. You don’t argue, finally letting yourself into the safety of the ransacked room and pausing to help him close the door once he follows.

“They were supposed to stay with her, not fucking leave her alone,” Jimin snaps, still rubbing his fingers through the younger girl’s hair, wincing as she shudders through an overwhelming wave of agony.

“They did the best they could.” Namjoon tells him softly. “All we can do now is make sure she gets out and to a hospital safely.”

You’re anxious at the thought of an official medical system, and you know she won’t be safe there. You’ll have to come up with something else, something more subversive to stay under the radar, but that’s a problem for later.

Right now you have to deal with the next step in the plan. Turning to Yeosang, you gesture to the corner of the room where most of the group is congregated. “Go sit down, get off your feet.”

He’s been working for hours now, powering through the highs and lows of adrenaline the same as you, and you know from your own exhaustion that he must be fading too.

At your directive, he begins looking for a good place to rest that’s still under the cover of the bookshelf and desk barricade.

“Rosé and Mingi need to rest for a bit before we try to go downstairs.” You continue, glancing to Namjoon for agreement. “We’ll wait a few minutes before we rally.”

Your co-captain takes your suggestion without question, picking his way through the sprawling legs to find a clear space to sit.

Yeosang does as well, but he brings a hand to your back to guide you with him, gesturing for you to sit against one of the shelves next to Jimin. When you’re settled on the floor, bunching your legs to your chest so you don’t jostle Rosé where she’s laying in front of you, he lowers himself by your side and leans heavily against the shelf.

A second later you’re all seated, Wooyoung and Yunho huddled on the floor next to Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Jongho taking the space next to Namjoon.

“So the parasites got out?” Jongho asks carefully. “They’re out there?”

“We killed most of them,” Namjoon says. “Some are locked into rooms, but they’re behind us. We should be clear from here.”

Jongho lets out a breath of relief. “Ugh, thank god, I hate bugs.”

Yeosang nudges you. “I told you.”

You huff, meeting Jongho’s eyes. “Same. This is my nightmare come to life.”

“Yeah, the zombies she could jive with, it’s the bugs that finally turned her off.” Jimin mutters quietly, humor finally finding its way through his distress. He flashes you a teasing smirk, and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, because I was having so much fun getting tackled and chewed up by zombies.” Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Yunho’s grimace, but he says nothing.

“Could have fooled me.” Yeosang quips. “Definitely seemed like you were the one doing the tackling.”

You knock your knees against his punishingly, but you’re too stuck on the reawakened guilt on Yunho’s face to respond properly. “Hey,” your soft interjection pulls the morose man’s attention to you, and you throw him a smile. “Sorry we left you with the annoying half of the group. You survived without clawing your own brain out?”

His responding smile is forced, while Wooyoung and Jimin utter indignant protests. “Yeah, it was touch and go there for a few minutes.”

“Fuck you, I am a delight.” Wooyoung mutters.

“Yeah, Yunho was the one bellyaching.” Jongho.

“Not a moment of peace, the whole time you were gone.” Jimin.

Yunho ducks his head, the same tortured frown sinking into his features again.

You can’t stand it, not when he’s carrying the lighter burden of guilt. “You wanna see what Joon did to me?” You hike your pink sweatpants leg up to your thigh, showcasing the swollen muscle that’s already splotched with red and blue, a thick lump of inflammation pushing against your skin.

“Holy shit.” Hongjoong croaks at the sight.

“Oh my god.” Namjoon drops his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Goddamn, did he hit you with a car?” Wooyoung demands, crawling over Seonghwa’s lap to peer closer.

The oldest pushes him back into his own space. “Sugar, that looks awful.”

“What did Namjoon do to you?” Wooyoung.

“Hyung, it looks like you broke her leg.” Jongho.

“Sugar, please, cover it up.” Namjoon.

“You freaking wrecking ball, what did you do this time?” Jimin.

Yunho’s eyes are darting wildly, from your leg, to each person speaking, to Namjoon, to you, back to your leg. “Jesus, what happened?”

Before you can answer, Yeosang’s arm crosses your lap and he tugs the elastic ankle cuff of your pants back down to cover your leg. “Stop leering, you vultures.”

You’re chortling, happy to distribute responsibility for pain dealt over the course of the evening in equal measure before Yunho can drown under the weight of his.

“She was being mauled by a parasite.” Namjoon grumbles in self defense. “I was trying to help.”

“You were supposed to kick the wasp, not me.” You fire back, laughing harder as his face flushes red and his cheeks hollow, a sure sign that he’s starting to get pissed at this harassment. “I feel rescued.”

Yeosang knows what you’re doing, his own eyes on the flickering uncertainty on Yunho’s face. “In all fairness, you’re a very difficult person to rescue.”

“She lured the entire 2nd floor hoard to the other side of the school.” San adds. “Yeosang abandoned us to go after her.”

This is a side of the story you hadn’t heard before, your mirth fading a little at the traces of bitterness in his voice.

When the curious attention is riveted on him, San scrambles to amend his tone. “I mean, he had to. I wanted all of us to go, obviously, but we had to get back to Rosie.”

You glance at Yeosang, finding a hint of remorse in the blankness of his features. He feels your gaze, meeting your eyes, and shakes his head. “We divided forces. It was the best we could do after you ran off like a madwoman.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m obviously the most delectable of all of us. You and San are all tough muscle and Mingi’s too bony. They wouldn’t have chased you.” You pat at the softness of your good thigh with a cheeky smile. “You gotta think it through.”

Yeosang grabs your hand off your thigh, pulling it to hold over his knee with a disapproving frown.

“I am not bony.” Mingi grumbles. “They thought I tasted just fine.”

“Dude, they took one bite out of you and starved to death before the AED even hit you.” You’re the last person to minimize anybody’s pain, but you have to keep the conversation light.

You have to keep up the camaraderie.

Yunho is crumbling, San is barely holding on, and your injured parties are scared out of their minds and in more pain than you can imagine.

Wooyoung cackles at the offended look on Mingi’s face. “Yeah, I bet they wish they got me.”

“Child, you are a supermodel. They would have starved to death the moment they were implanted.”

He beams at you. “Oh my god, you think I’m a supermodel?”

“Have you seen yourself?”

“She only has one of our albums, and it’s a Wooyoung version.” Hongjoong supplies helpfully.

Yeosang tenses against you.

“Really?” Wooyoung is elated, baring no fewer than a hundred teeth at you in a grin that would have rivaled Hobi’s.

A pang of sorrow echoes in your heart.

“No she doesn’t.” Yeosang argues. “She doesn’t have any of our albums.”

You snort.

“No, she has the one. Wooyoung’s face is on display in her living room.” Jimin refutes, shooting Yeosang a knowing smirk. “She loves that album.”

The man next to you gives a long suffering whine.

“This is so great,” Wooyoung leans back against the wall, one arm slung cockily over his knees. “Yeo, your girlfriend was in love with me first.”

“It was the only one in stock.” Yeosang throws back. “Tell him, Sugar, tell him you settled for him.” He turns pitiful eyes on you, foolishly handing you way too much power.

“The only one in stock?” You blink at him owlishly as Wooyoung cackles some more. “Was it? I just thought he looked so pretty on the cover.”

Yeosang’s head falls back against the shelf. “Sugar, he’s already so insufferable.”

“Betrayed by the wife.” Jimin muses from where he’s still cradling half of Rosé against him. “Now you know how I feel.”

Tightening his grip on your hand, Yeosang levels Jimin with a flat stare. “You do know you’re not actually married, right?”

Jimin matches your innocent stare. “No, we had contracts drawn up. Morticia and Gomez Dracula, bound in unholy matrimony.”

Yeosang gapes at you, and all you can do is shrug. “It was a prop for the program.” When he just closes his eyes with a groan as laughter ricochets through the room, you give his hand a squeeze. “There’s only so much I can do here, most of these guys are yours.”

Hilariously, your statement seems to wake him up. He points a finger at Wooyoung, and then at Jimin. “She’s selling your album as soon as she gets home, and that contract is getting burned.”

“Wow, that’s controlling.” Wooyoung.

“You’ll have to break into my house and unbolt it from the wall, but good luck to you.” Jimin.

“I already told him I’d hock the album for rent money. I’d get more for it if you signed it,” you flash Wooyoung your cutest smile and watch his face fall.

“What? No, you can’t sell it. I’m not signing it. I’ll sign it if you promise not to sell it.”

“Okay, I promise I won’t sell it.”

“You’re lying, I can see it in your face.”

“Oh my god, this is my life now.” Namjoon moans.

Still unable to rise with the spirit of the conversation, Yunho wraps his arms around his knees. “I’m really glad you’re okay. How did you escape them?”

Smile softening, you have to swallow past the memories of being cornered in that room, the fear of your certain death fading into mournful acceptance, the misery of thinking you’d never see these people again. “Yeosang.” His name all but chokes up your throat. Struggling to keep your brave face on, you glance around at the cautious expressions of your friends. “This lunatic used zombies as a step ladder and busted in through a window like Spider-Man.”

The room explodes into exclamations of awe.

“No way, that’s so cool!” Wooyoung is the first to say, followed quickly by San and Jongho.

“So cool, Hyung,” Jongho shakes his head. “We gotta put that scene in a music video or something.”

“He saved you like a superhero?” Seonghwa stares between the two of you, unbearably impressed. “Wow, that’s so romantic. Good job, Yeosang.”

He’s flushed next to you, covering his face with his free hand, groaning at the attention that’s half adoring and half teasing.

“So that’s why you left us,” San exclaims. “You ran off to steal your heroic moment. Damn, if he’d just waited a minute, I would have swooped in and saved you, Sugar.”

Rosé scoffs through a tormented moan. “You were crying the moment you walked into my classroom, you wouldn’t have been swooping in to save anybody.” She spares him a tortured grin as he frowns, and flings a hand out to bump his leg. “I’m kidding.”

“Then he saved me from getting swarmed to death by parasites, all without kicking the shit out of me.” You remark with hard trained levity.

“Oh my god, Sugar, please.” Namjoon groans. “We already know he’s perfect, you don’t have to eviscerate me to make your point.”

Yunho finally seems like he’s coming out of it. “A Spider-Man rescue is definitely the best way to go. Very romantic.”

“Yeah, that’s better than busting in like the Kool-Aid man, which is what I would have done.” Jongho says.

You let them handle the banter now, fading into silence as the atmosphere finally feels light and companionable again. Body aching, mind swirling with anxious anticipation for the rest of your certifiably insane plans for the night, it’s all you can do to keep a neutral expression on your face as you sink into your own thoughts.

They’re talking about daring rescues and making plans for when this is all over, shouting and ribbing each other at every turn. You should feel comforted by their persistent hope, bolstered by their rekindled optimism, but you’re still fighting the dread in your gut.

Part of you no longer thinks you can get them out of here alive. It’s not all on you, it’s not your responsibility alone, not with every single one of them proving their willingness and ability to step up and work as a cohesive unit to survive, but your job is to ensure their safety before your own.

And with the military looming outside, already having made moves against you to assure you that they won’t be letting anybody escape, you’re not seeing a sure way to evade or outsmart them.

None of you are trained to escape a military power. None of you know how to overpower an armed force, or cover your tracks if you get away from them.

As far as you know, the danger of actual, real life zombies and monstrous, enormous parasites has passed. Just hours ago, you’d thought that surviving a veritable zombie apocalypse would be the impossible feat of your life, but now it’s over.

It could be over.

And yet, life after tonight still seems beyond the grasp of everyone in this room.

You don’t have to survive it. You can give every bit of yourself to make sure they get out, that’s okay. You’ve already come to terms with that outcome, in your own way. You’re no longer capable of a normal life; you know yourself well enough to believe you’ve exceeded your ability to overcome the things you’ve seen and done tonight.

There’s no life for you out there without the friends that had become your family. There’s no peace with the knowledge of the things you’d done to try to survive.

You’re not worried for yourself.

Your stomach is cramping with debilitating fear that the eleven other people in the room won’t ever be free.

What if Rosé dies?

What if Ateez gets shot down by their own military, a military they were expected to serve in at some point, and never go back to their lives and livelihoods?

What if Jimin can’t make it on the run?

What if Namjoon falls too?

The danger hasn’t passed. The night isn’t over, even as it’s turning into the wee hours of the morning.

It will be daylight soon, and then there’s no chance that they can run and hide, even if they get past the first patrol.

Your name breaks you out of your panicking spiral, and you flinch to find Yeosang watching you.

“What is it?” He whispers, smoothing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“We need to get going.” You say, louder, silencing the roar of the room. “The sun’s going to be up in a few hours. We’ll never make it if we don’t have the cover of night.”

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha @igotajuicyass @velvetmoonlght @ramadiiiisme @mrsminseochoi @nightshadeblooming @furfoxsake22 @marvolos @lunaryoongie @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @noukstmblr

[damixo]

「 ☾ 」 ｍｙ ｍｈａ ｓｅｌｆ．．．

I'm Hiyoshi Ryusei, a first year student at U.A. University and a member of class 1-A. After disowning my father and running away from home I applied to U.A. and was almost immediately accepted, partially due to the fact that I come from a very well known pro-hero family. The name Hiyoshi is practically intertwined with the concept of heroes but at this point it's become more of a brand name than anything else. I plan on becoming the best hero in the world, not based on popularity, but on my ability to help others, much to the dismay of my shallow and selfish father, the pro-hero Solaris.

My mother is a rescue hero named Bengal, aka Hiyoshi Yukina. Her quirk, Pocket, allows her to open portals to wherever she can think of and even gives her access to her own small pocket dimension. Even though she isn't that "famous" she is known to leave a mark on everyone she encounters. People who have been saved by her say she is their favorite pro-hero. She used to be a member of the Wild, Wild Pussycats and I consider them to be my relatives. My mother is the kindest person I known but is often abroad saving people from natural disasters. She raised me in the USA, Japan, South Korea, Australia, and Mexico but during a holiday trip to Japan a disastrous tsunami hit and she stayed beyond our original vacation to help. After that we moved to Japan permanently and I lived there for the entirety of my high school career. She wanted me to be closer to my father but that slightly backfired when I found out how horrible he is.

My father is a very famous pro-hero named Solaris, aka Hiyoshi Taiyo. He was never really a part of my life and the last good memories I have of him were probably from kindergarten. His quirk, Sunrush, has been passed down through his family for generations and it allows him to absorb solar energy more efficiently than the average person and turn it into an enzyme called "Flare". When he stockpiles enough Flare it can be used to boost any of his physical capabilities (strength, senses, intelligence, etc.) or create and manipulate solar energy beams as well as give him x-ray vision and the ability to fly. My father's side of the family is filled with pro-heroes and many of my relatives are in the top 100 heros of Japan. Solaris is ranked the No. 3 hero. I have a distaste for my father (and this side of my family as a whole) due to the fact that they are mostly in it for the glory. I've essentially disowned my father ever since he founded his own hero agency with the sole intention of making a profit and obtaining a higher status.

My quirk is a combination of my parents' quirks called Pocket of Sunshine. It allows me to absorb solar energy like my father, with all the abilities that comes with it, with the distinction that I can also use my solar energy to create portals and a pocket dimension separate to my mother's. Thanks to my stockpiles of Flare I am capable of increasing the strength of my portals to create more than my mother could. My pocket dimension is also much bigger than hers and to this day I have not found where my pocket ends. I assume it's limitless. I have been going to prestigious schools and enrolled in "junior hero programs" since I could remember. I tried to hide who I really was from my class to avoid any special treatment but with the last name Hiyoshi and my "flashy" quirk, that was essentially impossible. I try my best to stay out of the spotlight and remove myself from my father's legacy.

[arseniy-arsenicum33]

All Hermits in Hero Forge!

Season 10 is coming! And I've finished modeling every Hermit (Thus far) in their TCG-cards poses!

Special thanks to Hoffen for their original minecraft models...

You've already saw these eight models in my Life-series minis showcase, slight tweaks and costume changes... I really need to buy Hero Forge subscription, so i can manipulate fingers individually... Now, for the new guys... Guess what?! I've figured out how to make links! Now you can see my references directly! Technology!

Ren got his cool casual look...

Docm77 inspired primarily by Belmarzi's design, such as this... It was very funny to suddenly stop in the middle of this project to model him hugging Snoop Dogg...

JoeHills, unsurprisingly, based on real-life Joe Hills... But I did have this comic by my side while modeling him, for moral support, because modeling someone's likeness is always stressful...

Cleo's pose pose a challenge, It uses a transparent one-legged skeleton inside the main body... Like a real armour-stand magic! I like how it turned out...

I've started watching Zedaph very recently, so both Noxolotl's and Applestruda's portrayals of him were very helpful in forming mine...

Blaise's Hermit line up was used for Cub and Hypno, which you will see down the line... Bee's art was helpful, once again, and these Cub-arts by Sylvan...

My main goal with Jevin was to somehow convincingly make a slime look slimy... I was so ready to make him as rotund as this art, but alas, program restrictions...

This art was used for False at the very beginning, but it drifted so much with the addition of cheekbones, that it doesn't look like it at all anymore...

Hypno had a surprise for me, because before making this model, I've never saw this brown line on his chest as a boob-window... But now, I am convinced... This is the art, that guided me to that conclusion... Ghostea's and Locus's portraits were useful for figuring out his face...

Iskall lifted from this art... Hero Forge doesn't have any cool one-eyed visors, so I've settled on monocle for him and Doc...

Hero Forge also for some reason doesn't have a hand-held flower, so pretend, that Stress doesn't hold a pen, okay? And has a cardigan... Based mainly on this and this art, which was also used for XB...

My best guess with Keralis was that he is doing Edvard Munch's "The Scream" ommage... Thanks to Myra and Cole , without them, Keralis would've looked more like a bug with them big ol' eyes...

Oh, boy, XB... A true enigma for me... Pictured here, lightly jogging... Only you could tell me, if I did a good job with him, I sincerely have no idea... Since this is in part a TCG-inspired project, it would've been wise to use references from the actual TCG-cards... To bad, I've came up with this idea near the end of a project...

I have made so many Xisuma-costumes, and only now I am showing you the main friendly-neighbourhood DoomGuy cosplayer himself... Do I need to credit id Software for this?

WelsKnight is my champion in regards to how many references I needed for him... 1 2 3 4 5 6 7! Despite how many armour options Hero Forge has, making something coherent out of them was difficult... Especially, keeping in mind, that one day I'm going to model HelsKnight as well...

And finally, TinFoilChef, based heavily on this stunning artwork... And somewhat on this skin by Ink-Ghoul... It all comes around...

And the Creator Himself! Beef! And his wonderful portraits: 1 2 3 4...

I actually going to use him as an example, to address something...

Here is how my screen looks, then I am working on a model... My method of creation is derivative by nature, it requires the art and creativity of other people... And I have SO MUCH anxiety about this... Not being an artist, but still trying to make something with my limited capabilities... And post it on the internet, oh horror...

With recent talks about plagiarism and AI-art, it has come to my attention, that I myself not so different from AI, just not so efficient... So, this is why I so obsessively document my influences, it is the least I can do... Credit the artists, that I stole from... Please, check out everyone mentioned, subscribe to them, commission new pieces of art...

And if you've liked my dorky "minecraft youtubers made in DND character creator" models... Thank you...

Sometime later there will be a google doc on my blog with links to every model I've ever made, go nuts with them... Try Hero Forge for yourself, it's fun...