#crowd point technologies

[incognit0slut]

MASTER OF PERSUASION

Part 4 of kinktober | main masterlist

meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon

Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.

Words: 6802

a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶

YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.

You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.

Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.

It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.

Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.

You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.

It was the FBI.

So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.

He seemed a little too cocky.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.

Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."

"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."

A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."

His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"

"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."

He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"

"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."

The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"

His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."

"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."

"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."

"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."

"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."

His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.

"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."

He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."

You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."

A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.

You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."

The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.

It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.

Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"

You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."

The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"

"It's a mere precaution."

And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."

You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.

Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?

"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"

You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.

And to your dismay, you actually liked it.

But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."

Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.

You let out a gasp.

"I-Is this even legal?"

Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"

You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.

It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.

Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."

You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.

"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.

The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."

"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."

Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."

"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."

Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.

"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."

You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.

"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.

Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.

He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.

The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.

"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."

You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.

The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"

Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.

"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."

Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."

You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.

Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."

Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.

He pulled your hair again. "Suck."

The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."

Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.

The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.

You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.

Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."

The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.

"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.

"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."

Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."

The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"

You remained quiet, looking away from him.

"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.

His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.

He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."

The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.

"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."

Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.

You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.

Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.

"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."

Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.

There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.

Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.

Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.

Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.

"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."

You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.

His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"

You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.

He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—

A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.

"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."

You groaned. Fucking selfish man.

"What was that?"

It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."

And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.

"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.

"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"

You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"

His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."

You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.

"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."

He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.

Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."

And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.

His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."

Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.

Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.

"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"

"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."

Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."

And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.

Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.

Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.

You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.

You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening. 

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.

"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."

Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."

You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.

"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."

“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.

You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.

You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.

“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.

"I think I ruined her."

Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."

Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

I assure you, an AI didn’t write a terrible “George Carlin” routine

There are only TWO MORE DAYS left in the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

On Hallowe'en 1974, Ronald Clark O'Bryan murdered his son with poisoned candy. He needed the insurance money, and he knew that Halloween poisonings were rampant, so he figured he'd get away with it. He was wrong:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ronald_Clark_O%27Bryan

The stories of Hallowe'en poisonings were just that – stories. No one was poisoning kids on Hallowe'en – except this monstrous murderer, who mistook rampant scare stories for truth and assumed (incorrectly) that his murder would blend in with the crowd.

Last week, the dudes behind the "comedy" podcast Dudesy released a "George Carlin" comedy special that they claimed had been created, holus bolus, by an AI trained on the comedian's routines. This was a lie. After the Carlin estate sued, the dudes admitted that they had written the (remarkably unfunny) "comedy" special:

https://arstechnica.com/ai/2024/01/george-carlins-heirs-sue-comedy-podcast-over-ai-generated-impression/

As I've written, we're nowhere near the point where an AI can do your job, but we're well past the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

AI systems can do some remarkable party tricks, but there's a huge difference between producing a plausible sentence and a good one. After the initial rush of astonishment, the stench of botshit becomes unmistakable:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/03/botshit-generative-ai-imminent-threat-democracy

Some of this botshit comes from people who are sold a bill of goods: they're convinced that they can make a George Carlin special without any human intervention and when the bot fails, they manufacture their own botshit, assuming they must be bad at prompting the AI.

This is an old technology story: I had a friend who was contracted to livestream a Canadian awards show in the earliest days of the web. They booked in multiple ISDN lines from Bell Canada and set up an impressive Mbone encoding station on the wings of the stage. Only one problem: the ISDNs flaked (this was a common problem with ISDNs!). There was no way to livecast the show.

Nevertheless, my friend's boss's ordered him to go on pretending to livestream the show. They made a big deal of it, with all kinds of cool visualizers showing the progress of this futuristic marvel, which the cameras frequently lingered on, accompanied by overheated narration from the show's hosts.

The weirdest part? The next day, my friend – and many others – heard from satisfied viewers who boasted about how amazing it had been to watch this show on their computers, rather than their TVs. Remember: there had been no stream. These people had just assumed that the problem was on their end – that they had failed to correctly install and configure the multiple browser plugins required. Not wanting to admit their technical incompetence, they instead boasted about how great the show had been. It was the Emperor's New Livestream.

Perhaps that's what happened to the Dudesy bros. But there's another possibility: maybe they were captured by their own imaginations. In "Genesis," an essay in the 2007 collection The Creationists, EL Doctorow (no relation) describes how the ancient Babylonians were so poleaxed by the strange wonder of the story they made up about the origin of the universe that they assumed that it must be true. They themselves weren't nearly imaginative enough to have come up with this super-cool tale, so God must have put it in their minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/29/gedankenexperimentwahn/#high-on-your-own-supply

That seems to have been what happened to the Air Force colonel who falsely claimed that a "rogue AI-powered drone" had spontaneously evolved the strategy of killing its operator as a way of clearing the obstacle to its main objective, which was killing the enemy:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/04/ayyyyyy-eyeeeee/

This never happened. It was – in the chagrined colonel's words – a "thought experiment." In other words, this guy – who is the USAF's Chief of AI Test and Operations – was so excited about his own made up story that he forgot it wasn't true and told a whole conference-room full of people that it had actually happened.

Maybe that's what happened with the George Carlinbot 3000: the Dudesy dudes fell in love with their own vision for a fully automated luxury Carlinbot and forgot that they had made it up, so they just cheated, assuming they would eventually be able to make a fully operational Battle Carlinbot.

That's basically the Theranos story: a teenaged "entrepreneur" was convinced that she was just about to produce a seemingly impossible, revolutionary diagnostic machine, so she faked its results, abetted by investors, customers and others who wanted to believe:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theranos

The thing about stories of AI miracles is that they are peddled by both AI's boosters and its critics. For boosters, the value of these tall tales is obvious: if normies can be convinced that AI is capable of performing miracles, they'll invest in it. They'll even integrate it into their product offerings and then quietly hire legions of humans to pick up the botshit it leaves behind. These abettors can be relied upon to keep the defects in these products a secret, because they'll assume that they've committed an operator error. After all, everyone knows that AI can do anything, so if it's not performing for them, the problem must exist between the keyboard and the chair.

But this would only take AI so far. It's one thing to hear implausible stories of AI's triumph from the people invested in it – but what about when AI's critics repeat those stories? If your boss thinks an AI can do your job, and AI critics are all running around with their hair on fire, shouting about the coming AI jobpocalypse, then maybe the AI really can do your job?

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

There's a name for this kind of criticism: "criti-hype," coined by Lee Vinsel, who points to many reasons for its persistence, including the fact that it constitutes an "academic business-model":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

That's four reasons for AI hype:

to win investors and customers;

to cover customers' and users' embarrassment when the AI doesn't perform;

AI dreamers so high on their own supply that they can't tell truth from fantasy;

A business-model for doomsayers who form an unholy alliance with AI companies by parroting their silliest hype in warning form.

But there's a fifth motivation for criti-hype: to simplify otherwise tedious and complex situations. As Jamie Zawinski writes, this is the motivation behind the obvious lie that the "autonomous cars" on the streets of San Francisco have no driver:

https://www.jwz.org/blog/2024/01/driverless-cars-always-have-a-driver/

GM's Cruise division was forced to shutter its SF operations after one of its "self-driving" cars dragged an injured pedestrian for 20 feet:

https://www.wired.com/story/cruise-robotaxi-self-driving-permit-revoked-california/

One of the widely discussed revelations in the wake of the incident was that Cruise employed 1.5 skilled technical remote overseers for every one of its "self-driving" cars. In other words, they had replaced a single low-waged cab driver with 1.5 higher-paid remote operators.

As Zawinski writes, SFPD is well aware that there's a human being (or more than one human being) responsible for every one of these cars – someone who is formally at fault when the cars injure people or damage property. Nevertheless, SFPD and SFMTA maintain that these cars can't be cited for moving violations because "no one is driving them."

But figuring out who which person is responsible for a moving violation is "complicated and annoying to deal with," so the fiction persists.

(Zawinski notes that even when these people are held responsible, they're a "moral crumple zone" for the company that decided to enroll whole cities in nonconsensual murderbot experiments.)

Automation hype has always involved hidden humans. The most famous of these was the "mechanical Turk" hoax: a supposed chess-playing robot that was just a puppet operated by a concealed human operator wedged awkwardly into its carapace.

This pattern repeats itself through the ages. Thomas Jefferson "replaced his slaves" with dumbwaiters – but of course, dumbwaiters don't replace slaves, they hide slaves:

https://www.stuartmcmillen.com/blog/behind-the-dumbwaiter/

The modern Mechanical Turk – a division of Amazon that employs low-waged "clickworkers," many of them overseas – modernizes the dumbwaiter by hiding low-waged workforces behind a veneer of automation. The MTurk is an abstract "cloud" of human intelligence (the tasks MTurks perform are called "HITs," which stands for "Human Intelligence Tasks").

This is such a truism that techies in India joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians." Or, to use Jathan Sadowski's wonderful term: "Potemkin AI":

https://reallifemag.com/potemkin-ai/

This Potemkin AI is everywhere you look. When Tesla unveiled its humanoid robot Optimus, they made a big flashy show of it, promising a $20,000 automaton was just on the horizon. They failed to mention that Optimus was just a person in a robot suit:

https://www.siliconrepublic.com/machines/elon-musk-tesla-robot-optimus-ai

Likewise with the famous demo of a "full self-driving" Tesla, which turned out to be a canned fake:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/tesla-video-promoting-self-driving-was-staged-engineer-testifies-2023-01-17/

The most shocking and terrifying and enraging AI demos keep turning out to be "Just A Guy" (in Molly White's excellent parlance):

https://twitter.com/molly0xFFF/status/1751670561606971895

And yet, we keep falling for it. It's no wonder, really: criti-hype rewards so many different people in so many different ways that it truly offers something for everyone.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

Image:

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

Ross Breadmore (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/rossbreadmore/5169298162/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[oct0bra1ns]

I feel like I've sent so many requests- lmk if it's too many or anything, I swear I'll stop

But until then, I have yet another!

How about a time traveller yandere who's darling is from a totally different period of time. Ex: Victorian era, prehistoric times, etc. Choose which ever you want!

-💌

Timeless Devotion

pairing: Yandere time traveller x Victorian era reader TW: yanderes, violence against others, notes : feelings were annihilated so bad i came out of my hiatus to write LOL

reblogs and comments are appreciated

♡ Yandere time traveller who expected nothing interesting when he decided to go to some obnoxious noble's ball, he wasn't this rich back in his time period, why not enough it now?

♡ Yandere time traveller who initially went out to the balcony to get some peace and quiet from the chattering crowd only to find you bent over the railing solemnly staring out to the garden.

♡ Yandere time traveller who immediately recognised you as the noble's child the moment you turned around to greet him. He who spent the next few hours of the ball getting to know you, hearing you lament of the fact your father married you off to a stranger.

♡ Yandere time traveller who started devising a plan to bring you back to his timeline the moment he saw tears falling down your face, he'd make sure everyone who played a part in forcing you to get married would be dealt with, of course, he doesn't waste the opportunity to let you sob into his chest.

♡ Yandere time traveller who begs you to run away with him, promising he'll take care of you to his best abilities, who promises that you'll never have to lift a finger if you wish so.

♡ Yandere time traveller who wastes no time in bring you back to his time, who's eternally grateful his parents decided to buy an old victorian house before they bailed on him

♡ Yandere time traveller who slowly introduces you to technology, who hands you a phone with only his number, who makes sure to hide the app store in case you decide to explore the contents of the phone.

♡ Yandere time traveller who knows damn well you hate the clothes in his time but buying victorian era clothing is just waay out of his budget so instead he take his time sewing clothes to your life, getting to place is hands all over you is a plus point.

♡ Yandere time traveller who always holds your waist when you go out to town, he's aware your dressing style makes you stand out but god forbid anyone tries to flirt with you, he'll get rid of them and keep you in the house for a while under the guise of it being too dangerous outside.

♡ Yandere time traveller who knows you spent your entire life being served so when he comes home to a burnt meal, hE doesn't complain, he eats it, praising you, asking you if you want to be taught more recipes.

♡ Yandere time traveller who panic when you uncover an old newspaper clipping of an unsolved murder of a noble house, snatching it out of your hand, telling you that even newspapers print lies these days.

[periprose]

Heyyy I’m literally playing through ps4 Spider-Man again 🤣!

I was wondering if I could request a ps4 fic, maybe Peter and reader have been dating for a while, and she gets hurt during the explosion and he can’t find her but she’s with may at feast with like a broken arm or something?? (She knows he’s Spider-Man) 👀🫶🏼

hey lol thanks for requesting! I'm on the first playthrough of the game myself. Basically this is set during the explosion at the election event in the game, and Peter and you are there to proudly watch Officer Davis accept his award.

/

"Hey." Peter comes up from behind you on the sidewalk, fixing wrinkles in his civilian clothes. He must've just changed.

"Hey, Parker." You nudge him. "Ready to go watch Osborn smooch up to the well-meaning audience of Manhattan?"

"Well, ready as I'll ever be." Peter takes your hand. "I'm really just there to watch Davis get his well-deserving award, y'know. Hey, didn't I tell you to stop calling me Parker?"

"Meh, you love it." You joke. "You'll always be Parker to me, even if you are my boyfriend now. It's our thing."

Peter shakes his head, but you know based on his little smile- he loves that you have a little thing just for him.

Together, you walk to the intersection in front of City Hall, where many people crowd around, waiting for Mayor Osborn and whatever speech he's about to give today. They're all dressed in Osborn themed merchandise, cheering and clapping.

You can't believe this many people care about Osborn's so-called promises to the city- you and Peter are really hoping he won't be re-elected this term after all- but people are clapping for him, and you sigh knowing that your cost of living is about to go up.

"Hey. Wipe that frown off your face. We're here to be supportive." Peter whispers from next to you in the crowd, and you nod.

"Where's Davis? Is that him?" You whisper back, pointing to an older black man up on the stage.

"Yup. You wouldn't believe it, he was so helpful in Hell's Kitchen. Dude whipped out his gun and had my back like we've been best buds for years." Peter smiles. "There's not many out there doing it like him."

"He sounds like a real treasure. I'm glad you have someone on your side." You squeeze Peter's hand, and continue to look up towards the stage in mild excitement.

You don't really care for Osborn's speech- Peter laughs about his promise to open up technology for NYC when you both know that's reserved for the elite- but you both grin when Davis, looking nervous as ever, walks up the stage to receive his award.

"It is my privilege to present Officer Jefferson Davis with the Department Medal of Honour." Osborn hangs a medal around Davis' neck, and you and Peter clap.

"I'm so glad this is all over. The gang war, I think." Peter whispers to you, and you raise your eyebrows.

"Really? Does this mean you'll finally be a little safer?" You ask, but Peter frowns a little.

"Well, there's some loose ends still to be tied up, but-"

"Loose ends?" You give him a wary glance. "Like what?"

"Like whatever 'Consolidated Shipping' is. It doesn't make sense." Peter sighs, watching concern grow on your face. "It's not right, but I'll figure it out."

Davis says a few words- he thanks his wife and his son, Miles, who you can see is sitting up at the front of the stage.

"Aw, cute kid." You remark to Peter, and he nods, gaining a slightly sheepish smile.

"Officer Davis did say I remind him of his son. I'll take it as a compliment." Peter jokes, and you snicker, calling him even more of a baby.

Behind you, Sable guards are talking on their walkie talkies about "keeping eyes on Osborn," which to you sounds as if they perceive a threat. You turn back to tell Peter, when he suddenly flinches.

"Peter-?"

He grabs his head, panicking- you watch as his pupils dilate, and he's clearly in some kind of shock.

"Everything feels off-" Peter flinches again, and you know he's having a Spider-Sense meltdown. There must be multiple things happening at once- even worse, you're not sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. He's not suited up, and he risks revealing his identity if he does anything.

Either way, Peter runs behind you. He shoves people out of the way, trying to get to the back of the event, behind the audience, but he's not fast enough. There are men arriving out of cars- corrupted men, turning that strange grey-blue-transparent hue that confirms their connection with Martin Li.

Peter runs- he dashes- but you see him flinch again, cowering under such threatening energy. He turns to the stage in horror, and you gasp in shock.

There's another corrupted on stage, covered in explosive devices.

An explosion goes off behind you, to the right of you, than another massive one on stage- the ground shakes beneath you, and you're too in shock to move.

"Get down!" Peter shoves you back, attempting to push you out of the way, just as another two explosions cause the earth under you to rattle, and you lose your footing and fall back on the pavement. You twist your arm unnaturally and hit your head.

You black out, the last thing you see being massive blue-black explosions in the sky.

/

Peter wakes to floating ash in the sky.

He coughs- there's a sharp pain in his right side, and a slight ache at the top of his hairline- he touches his forehead and pulls his fingers away to see brown-red, dry blood.

It doesn't matter. He'll heal faster than most, anyways- he needs to locate you.

He gets up, seizes a little due to the pain- and to his alarm, you're nowhere in his near sight. He walks around seeing Sable guards help people off the streets- although Peter really thinks they're poking and prodding and shoving them away, so they can clean up the mess around here.

He hopes you haven't been taken away by Sable guards.

Peter rushes to the nearest clinic- but there's too many people crowding around there with their injuries, and the receptionist at the emergency room tells him there's no one by your name here.

He begins to panic. You're not responding to his calls, either. Peter doesn't want to believe the worst could've happened to you, but he does hear people talking on the streets about the casualties. Apparently at least 10 people have been found dead so far- Peter starts swearing under his breath.

He decides to head to FEAST- he's not sure if you'll be there, but it's better to ask Aunt May or some of the volunteers if you've been seen. FEAST also operates as an emergency medical clinic, too, even with limited supplies, and it's with this small amount of hope that Peter travels there.

Pushing through the doors, the front desk woman- Amanda- she's startled by how intensely Peter asks about you.

"I don't know, Peter." She points to the main auditorium, where many homeless and injured people are currently being attended to. "It's kind of an open house back here- you're going to have to look through the crowds."

Peter sighs. "Thanks, Amanda."

It takes him about fifteen minutes to do a full, quick walkthrough. The entire time, his heartbeat thumps faster as he realizes- he's not seeing you anywhere. There's nobody wearing your trademark scarf, your usual dark blue jeans- nobody with your fastidious expression, where you always seem to take in the entire world before speaking- nobody to relieve the steady ache in his heart.

Peter walks into the room full of medical supplies, expecting to see Aunt May- and while May is there, busy with another volunteer, the first thing he sees is you, with your hair all disheveled and messy, bruises on your cheek and a cut under your lip, and your arm wrapped in a cast and a sling.

But you have a soft, comforting smile. You're kneeling down to help a little girl- she can't be older than five- and you're placing a bandage on her knee. And the little girl squeals, hugging you after you say "It's all better now."

Peter would agree with that.

You look up, arms still embraced around the little girl- Rina is her name- to see Peter, looking wistful, sad, a clear lump in his throat. His eyes are watery.

"Peter?" You watch as he comes forward.

"I thought you were- I thought..." He wipes his eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Well, Little Rina over here needed a little bit of medical attention." You kindly tap her shoulder and she nods up at Peter, smiling. "She tripped and fell and no one was paying attention to her knee, so I decided to help her."

"That's..." Peter trails off, wondering how you could be so selfless when your own face was looking a bit worse for wear. "That's sweet of you to do. How do you feel, kiddo?"

He kneels towards her, and she grins really big. "Better!"

"Alright, high five then." Peter high fives her, and she dashes off afterwards, most likely looking for the parent she came with.

"Why didn't you respond to my calls?" Peter asks you as soon as you turn back to him. "I thought... I thought the worst had happened-"

"Peter, please. Stop with the wounded ego." May calls him out, listening from the sidelines. "What's important is that she's safe and in one piece- that's more than enough to feel grateful about."

Peter looks down, ashamed. He knows May is right, and he has to swallow his pride for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Peter." You grasp his hand, and he looks back at you, jaw tight as he listens. "I didn't mean to not answer your calls- my phone got shattered. And I didn't know where to find you after I woke up- I was already being taken away by Sable guards to 'safety' and then I decided my best chance to find you was over here."

"Oh." Peter feels kind of dumb, but he also feels glad you think of FEAST as a spot to find him. "I should've kept you safe."

"Don't. Don't make yourself crazy with what you could've done." You plead with him, and he sighs but shakes his head. "My arm will heal with time. I guess I landed on it weirdly and broke it."

Peter winces. "Well, you can always ask me for help if it bothers you. I'm there for you."

He traces your lip, where the cut under is still a red-brown, harsh hue in comparison to the pink of your bottom lip, and May takes this as her cue to leave.

Peter snorts. "I wish you had my-"

"Super healing? Yeah, I wish that too." You laugh. "Were you lucky enough to not get hit, or did you just heal on the way here?"

Peter's reaching for a facial bandage and some rubbing alcohol. "The latter."

"Ugh, lucky bastard." You smile up at him, cringing only slightly as Peter rubs away the blood from your wound. "I'm just glad that means I don't have to worry too much about you."

"You still do." Peter remarks, placing the bandage on your face. "But that just means you love me."

And, being ever so thankful that you're safely back in his arms, Peter places a soft kiss on your forehead, and then a slightly-less-soft one on your mouth, hoping it doesn't hurt you, but happy that you kiss him back anyways.

[transmutationisms]

being reductive here but i do think the covid pandemic has & continues to expose a very specific strain of techno-optimistic or utopian thinking wrt medical technologies in particular---this idea that you can simply solve a massive socio-technical problem (disease spread) through a solely technical intervention that thus requires no input or cooperation from the average person besides a vague sort of 'pro-science' stance. you see this first with the crowd who thought the 'post-vaccine world' was one in which things ought to immediately 'get back to normal' but you also see it with those who seem to believe that eg a risky recreational event (parties, bars, &c) would be magically transformed in a binary manner into a wholly 'safe' one if only people were to wear masks. in this sort of politics there is no real understanding of risk as being along a spectrum or varying according to numerous factors including people's social behaviours; instead it is a technical problem solved instantly by a singular technical intervention. there's no need then to engage in larger and messier conversations about things like capitalist de/valuation of biopower, or disabled people's right or ability to participate in society. you sidestep the whole issue because you have applied the right technical means to simply dispense with the political problem. obligatory i wear masks when i have to be in public and i am boosted and blah blah but i'm under no illusion this means i can't get or spread covid (or other diseases). but more to my point here, i think this mode of thinking has dangerous consequences for all manner of social theorising that's simply answered with a lazy appeal to technological 'development' or advance---assumed to be something we can magic away if we throw enough money at pharma companies or weapons manufacturers or whoever else. what this ultimately does is stifle political consciousness and bolster the power and epistemological authority granted to institutions tasked with producing and protecting hegemonic forms. and my point here is not 'anti-science' or techno-pessimistic either; again, i am profoundly grateful for many a technological intervention into my life and i will continue to avail myself of them, including medtech. however the fantasy that problems of political and social forms and arrangements can be solved by sufficiently advanced technology is both foolish and dangerous.

[jymwahuwu]

okay hi i’m new here and i was wondering if 1.) i could be 🍧 anon. and 2.) i was hoping to request yandere!jing yuan with a fem!reader who and yes this goes back to another rq you did of jing who kept spamming and calling reader to do the naughty, becomes super fed up with his shit and starts avoiding him irl. as like, she’s avoiding him and what have you, the texts- calls- and pictures all get progressively more frequent, until you’re basically waking up to pictures of him laying in bed w/o a shirt or, a pic of him after he gets ready- asking if you like his outfit and think he looks good.

but like reader becomes so annoyed that she tries blocking him, changing her number, avoiding him, and he only takes it as motivation to keep up his antics because he KNOWS how flustered it makes you, and he isn’t going to stop. but now he’s becoming slowly more creepy to the point he calls you and says “oh hey bby i’m on my way over 😘 leave the door unlocked for me”

anyways— thanks if you get the chance to do this request! i love ur work and can’t wait to see more from you!

related content: yan! jing yuan keeps spamming you and calling you

thanks for your encouragement! sure u can be 🍧 anon! visiting your house is really creepy lmaooo is there any way to stop him?

TW: yandere, non-con, harassment, looks like delusional but he's not delusional, somehow super lucid

Oh this is going to happen someday, you have all the desperate attempts to stop Jing Yuan- block him, keep changing numbers, check yourself on the street if you are being followed, and walk into the crowd. What you get are messages from [new number] praising your stunts (for avoiding him) and telling you that he really wants you to bend over if it's not in public. There's even something like "[photos 2], [photos 9], [voice message 2:16]". A large number of explicit texts and photos to lure your desire.

You look for a button to turn off message notifications, but somehow there's no way, just like you can't hang up those calls. You believe that your mobile phone has been hacked, but that is the power of Xianzhou technology, what ability do you have to refuse…?

Today's a weird but good day - you didn't see [new messages 42], nor were you distracted by morning and late-night phone calls leading you to surreptitiously watch porn. You're at home enjoying the peace of mind while sipping your favorite drink and watching space TV. However, halfway through the show, you receive a call from the general.

"Huh?" You were a little numb.

"Oh hey baby I'm on my way over!" There was a cheerful voice over there, which brought a bit of sunshine compared to the previous low voice. "Remember to leave the door unlocked for me-" You didn't hold it steady for a few seconds, and the drink in your hand spilled out - what does it mean? Jing Yuan on the way to your house?

"Wait… what?!" The call was over. You opened the chat history with your trembling fingertips, there was indeed a message last night saying "Baby here has a surprise for you tomorrow so we can have a good time (♡˙︶˙♡)"

What follows is your choice, but with the same consequences. You can leave the house temporarily, or stay in the house but lock the door and put a stick or something on the door handle. Leaving the house will only be caught by him like a kitten and brought home under the shocked eyes of everyone. And the option to lock the door, you're so naive, aren't you? Jing Yuan rings the door bell first and tells you "baby your dear boyfriend is here". After getting no response, the general murmured that he was lucky to have your spare key, and you who eavesdropped behind the door covered your mouth to suppress the screaming - how could he have your house key? Seeing that the door handle was stuck, Jing Yuan casually smashed the door handle with a relaxed smile on his face.

It's like a surreal nightmare for you now with an immersive live-action experience.

"Baby, I'm home. Are you eager?" He put his hands around your waist and lifted you off the ground. This is the first thing Jing Yuan does after entering your home. No matter how flustered and annoyed you are, asking him to put you down, the general will hold your waist tightly, feeling your breath contentedly. It takes a full minute before you get back to the ground.

Jing Yuan tries to act like a thoughtful boyfriend, cuddling with you on the couch watching a show (ignoring your struggle in a huff, stroking your boobs), giving you teahouse's popular drink (and throwing the original drink). There's a raised tent rubbing your butt, and you writhe in embarrassment.

General's plan for you is a sweet date at home, and… a sex marathon! He already told you how to pamper you, right? He started holding your cheek and kissing you affectionately and slowly, even as you whined with your eyes closed and pushed his chest with tears. He shudders as the cock buries into your warm and tight walls. It was better than he'd ever imagined in any call. You whimper "no", "this is too big", "I don't want to…" Jing Yuan shushes you, tells you you are adorable, stretches you unhurriedly with his dick.

Even though your house is small for him, Jing Yuan sees this as a lovely bird house. He starts fucking you all over the house, from bumping you on the dining table to overstimulating you and forcing you to squirt on the bed. If you have a balcony or a garden, Jing Yuan even considers taking you out to tease you a little. Of all the furniture, his favorite is your little bathtub. After being exhausted, Jing Yuan puts you in a bathtub filled with warm water and bubbles for you to relax, just like a responsible boyfriend would do. After taking a bath, he knew that you might not be able to walk by yourself now, so he carried you to the bed. He changes you into a pajamas patterned with furry animals. He loves doing these sweet things for you!

General pats you on the back, gently wiping away your tears. Your screaming isn't getting any help. You can only whine, sob, and sniff - until... you hyperventilate and fall asleep. He knows it's a packed schedule for a first date, so it's understandable that you'd be overwhelmed.

He took a picture of your sleeping face, clasped his fingers with you, and fell asleep together. There will be more sweet dates in the future. You will get used to it, right?

[ourautumn86]

catch me if you can

street racer! ellie williams x fem! reader

summary; heat rises on the streets, blood pumps with adrenaline in the race, and bad memories come up to the surface with a swing of the steering wheel.

cw; tension, swearing, mentions of death and death of a fictional character, anxiety… in the future there would be +18 content!

special thanks to @winfleurs and @atomicami for inspiring me i luv u! 🎀

“dina! wait up!” you screamed, your heels making it not quite easy to run after your best friend.

your ears were buzzing with the roaring of the audience and the car’s engines. it was a fresh saturday night, and the city seemed as bright as a constellation. adrenaline was pumping through your veins, you shouldn’t be out today. in fact, you’d sneaked out of your house. but you couldn’t help it if your friend asked for it so badly. her boyfriend, jesse, was supposed to be racing today. there was a lot of money on the line. probably about 500k. and dina had to be there. you know, the ‘good luck’ kiss and all that.

the cars looks amazing, modified with the newest technology. you could see the NOS tubes peeking though, ready to push though the chambers of the cars and burn the tires in the asphalt.

shit, you were getting excited.

you followed your friend through the crowd, trying to not lose her black wavy hair out of sight.

“jesse!” she screamed, a huge smile on her features as she ran towards the cars and her boyfriend, jumping onto his arms.

“hi beautiful.” he smiled, giving her a kiss as he held her. you made a gagging sound that made them laugh and pull apart.

“nice to see you too, jesse.” you said as you met up with the two of them. jesse chuckled.

“hey trouble maker, what are you doing here?”

“oh, you know… being a good best friend and all that.” you rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your lips.

“of course.” he hummed, squinting his eyes.

“although i really wanted to see you lose too.” you added and he laughed.

“there it is. i could see it coming.” you winked at him.

“i see you’ve got competition.” you looked around to the cars placed for the race. and you whistled. “a 2015 Lykan HyperSport? that’s gonna be hard to beat.” jesse frowned. “but of course yours is not that bad…” you placed your hand on its surface. “Nissan Skyline GT-R R34… 1999 right?” you inquired and he nodded.

dina seemed just as surprised as him.

“yeah… how do you know all this stuff about cars?” you froze. shit.

“uhh…” you shrugged. “my father. he’s a fanatic.” you quickly spurted out, and the two of them nodded, letting it slide. ‘cause they couldn’t think anything else about it, of course. you were no longer in LA, you were safe.

you sighed. almost fucked it up.

“hey, jess!” the three of you turned around at the sound of a low and sultry voice. your eyes met a pair of evergreen ones, silky auburn hair —tied half and half on a messy bun— and freckled cheeks. she was seating on the hood of her car, girls with tiny skirts and exposed cleavages surrounding her. her legs were spread, a black tank top hugging her chest and toned abdomen, leaving her strong arms exposed.

she was hot. really hot.

“yo williams.” jesse smirked. “ready to eat dirt?” she scoffed, showing off a confident smirk.

“you talk too much for someone who hasn’t beaten me once.” people around you hollered.

“and you talk too much to have that shit of a car.” you huff, and she arched her eyebrows. “Subaru WRX. year 2008.” you pointed out, your heels clicking as you got closer. “i’m sorry for your wallet. the engine and drivetrain must have given you a lot of problems.” you saw the way her jaw ticked and you smiled. “uuuh, seems like a touched a tender spot, didn’t i? i mean subarus are impressive. but not even an STI? come on. you hurt me.” you pouted and she chuckled.

“well, look at that. here i thought your pretty face would be the most interesting thing about you. but you’ve got brains.” she said, jumping off of the hood of her car, getting closer to you as she eyed you up and down.

“not like your kitties here.” you nodded at the girls and they all stared dirtily at you, what made you smirk.

“careful doll, they might scratch you all up.” she warned, playfully, so close to you you could smell her perfume. “and we wouldn’t want that beautiful face of yours to go to waste, do we?” you smirked.

“i would like to see them try.” you muttered, leaning until your faces were mere inches away. she pursed her lips and took a look at you, at your exposed legs and cleavage, beautiful hair and glossy red lips. you had gone for a simple tight tube leather dress that pushed up your tits a little bit too well, and a pair of red thin high heels. a red pendant hanging from your necklace.

“see something you like, ‘williams’?” you inquired, sultry, teasingly and she smirked.

“maybe.” she tilted her head slightly backwards. “what about you? you see something you like?”

“i do…” you nodded, droopy eyes on her own green ones and she smiled. “your car.” she let out a sarcastic laughter, shaking her head.

“but weren’t you just saying how much of a shit it was?” she inquired, eyebrows arched in disbelief.

“now it is. it won’t be once i’ve got my hands on it and touch her all up.” you said as you stared at the cherry red car. the people surrounding you let out ‘uuu’s that made you smile. “you know… a short throw shifter, maybe a new intercoolers…”

“and how are you gonna do that, princess?”

“with a race.” the crowd roared and your friends frowned. dina approached you.

“are you crazy?! do you even know how to race?” you looked at her, and took one of her hands.

“dina… i’ll explain later, okay? but now i need you to trust me on this one, alright?” jesse and dina looked at you, into your eyes, and saw your determination. silently, he handed you his keys.

“if you’re gonna race, you’ll need a car.” you looked at him, and he smiled. you returned it, taking the keys. “if you lose i’ll kill you.” he warned though, and you laughed.

“i never lose.” you promised.

“what do i win if you do?” ellie stepped into the conversation, eyebrows raised. “need to hook me in, gorgeous, i’m betting my car after all.”

“i’ll tell you what.” you smirked, turning towards her. “since it’s not gonna happen. i’ll bet you anything you want.”

“anything i want?” she inquired and you nodded. “don’t pull back later on your promise, princess.”

“i won’t.”

-

you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the tingling of your hands. you pressed on the gas, hearing the engine roar, and your heart stammered. shit. it’s been so long.

you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do it ever again. but how could you get away from all of this? from the only thing that made you feel something? that made you weak on your knees and your heart race? it was like a drug. every time you took it you’d find yourself begging for more. you needed it on your system.

you had learned how to race since a very early age, even before you had enough age to get your license —yeah, you got in trouble with the police more than once, but they could never catch you—. and even if you loved it, you’d left it all after your best friend had died while racing, in the hands of a crazy dick who made him crash against a building, making the NOS tanks blow up and burning him alive.

you still could remember your screams, how your friends had grabbed at you so you wouldn’t get closer. ‘let me go! let me fucking go!’

you’d watched the only person that got you and unconditionally loved you die in front of your eyes.

after that you’d used the millions of dollars your family name had to drown your sorrows in alcohol and drugs, getting away from the city that had taken away your everything from you and building a brand new life where nobody could know you.

you’d been hard to get to know, always having everybody at an arm’s length until dina had come along, with her stupid smile and warm personality bringing you back to life. you’d forever be grateful to and for her. but her past was something you’d never talked about, and she didn’t want to force you into it.

“i see you shaking there, princess. scared?” williams screams from her car, who just had positioned itself to your right. you scoffed.

“oh yeah, terrified.” you sarcastically said, and she smirked.

“don’t worry babe, you can always sit on my lap later, i have something that will calm you down.” she winked and you rolled your eyes.

“no thank you, once i’m done i’ll be sitting on your car and driving back to my house.” you winked back, and she chuckled, mouthing something to herself that you couldn’t figure out.

“you guys readyyyyyy?!” a girl in a mini skirt came in between the two cars, a gun in hand. the audience roared, and so did your car. there were phones everywhere, recording the impending race —and your victory—.

you bit down on your lip. you were gonna make win that pretty girl, in heels.

“set!” another girl to your right yelled, and your engine roared again, the tires burning.

“ready!” another to your left, one more roar.

“go!” the girl with the gun shot up to the sky, and before you knew you were flying. the world stopped. there was no future. no past. just the present. just that moment.

ellie took the lead, and she smirked to herself, looking at your car through her mirrors. but she just had to take her eyes away from you for two seconds to lose you. “what the-“

she took the curve, and with a honk, you drifted right beside her, in a swift motion getting in front of her backwards to the road, facing her car. you smiled at her, and send her a kiss with one of your hands before harshly spinning the wheel and drifting once again to face forwards, using the NOS to catapult yourself through the asphalt. you relished on the shock of her face. god you could never get used to it. it never got old.

ellie cursed, following right behind you, adrenaline pumping through her body.

“i’ve finally got you.” she smiled, changing gears and speeding up. another closed curve came into your view and you sped up, in a quick movement changing gears and pulling on the break as you harshly manhandled the steering wheel. you could almost see everything on slow motion, the people outside of the car roaring as you perfectly drifted in an U shape.

you screamed, euphoria in the pit of your stomach. ellie used the inertia to pull up by your side, lowering her window. you did the same. you two were on the final straight line. “you ready to lose princess?” she inquired, and you scoffed.

“catch me if you can, williams!” you screamed, and changed gears before pressing the gas. you press the NOS button, the strength making your back press tightly against your sit. you flew through the straight line, ellie copying you and keeping up with you. you could see the finish line getting closer and closer, and the speedometer getting higher.

you knew you couldn’t over do it, the crowd was waiting for the winner there, you couldn’t hurt them, you wouldn’t.

100mph, 125mph, 150mph, 165mph.

“3…2…1…” and just as you crossed the finish line, mere inches ahead from ellie, you harshly rotated the wheel, drifting as you stepped and pulled on both breaks, the tires burning against the asphalt and leaving marks as you finally stopped the car. the crowd roared and quickly approached you. dina and jesse were hollering.

you stepped out of the car with a smile on your face, your best friend jumping to hug you and jump into your arms, making you laugh.

“what?! i mean- what?!? that was amazing!!! since when could you race?!!?? oh my god!!!” you chuckled, trying to calm her down.

“i’ll tell you everything about it later, alright?” she nodded. jesse tried to say something but he was out of words. “it’s okay big boy, don’t waste your breath.” you tapped her shoulder, and he scoffed. “and now…” you turned around, watching ellie as she stepped out of her car. “i’ll be taking my prize.” you smirked, spreading out your arm and showing her your palm. she tilted her head to the side, a playful smile playing on her lips.

“sure. but first aren’t you going to introduce yourself for me, princess?” she inquired. “or should i do it… viper?” your blood froze, as well as the whole crowd. ellie smirked. “you really thought i wouldn’t recognize those drifts?” you quickly got closer to her, your breaths mingling.

those surrounding you started mumbling. your breath was shaky and your body, still filled with adrenaline, slowly filled with anxiety and bad memories.

“viper the street racer?”

“no way!”

“she disappeared years ago, is it really her?”

“i would shut up if i were you.” you hissed, and she leaned in, the smirk on her lips growing. your lips were almost brushing, and with the hand in which she had her keys, she cupped your chin.

“why don’t you make me?”

you needed to get out of here.

why… why now? why after all this years was your past catching up to you?

you quickly took her —your— keys, watching her smile as you got into your new car and started it. the crowd was unraveling and you knew soon they’d start either jumping at you or taking pictures to expose you.

“see you soon, princess!” she screamed as you drove out of there, groaning at the buzzing of your phone. “i caught you.”

-

a/n; ty’all for 7k! i’m so happy that such a large number of people enjoys my work :(🎀 i love u!! also hope you liked this fic! would you like a part 2? let me know!

[despairots]

miles 42 and miles 1610 are twins and fight over reader and try to impress her and stuff

━━━━━━━━ talk about first impressions.

earth1610! miles morales x gn! reader x earth42! miles morales. fluff and warning, there’s some suggestive comments from grown adults. i started this yesterday but im posting once/twice a day until i burn myself out from writing and deleting requests. reader is like peni parker. ignore the description, my brain was idk.

please remember that in my last oneshot, earth 1610 miles will be spiderman and earth 42 miles will be the prowler, the two are vigilantes, keep that in mind. also you’re an anarchist lolsies!!1!1! the spanish translation might not be accurate. leaving this on a cliffhanger too LMFAO. you’re always an anarchist in these oneshots.

where the morales twins can’t help but fall for the technology nerd who can do a lot of things, trying to impress you and gift you stuff in public, and with you, obviously being a talented person, you apparently have a lot of admirers, especially weird, old, strange adults.

you sighed in embarrassment at the two morales twins trying one up eachother with giving gifts to you or impressing you. some people would call you lucky, some would be jealous of you.

being fought over the two most attractive guys in brooklyn vision who may look the same but act like polar opposites is a nightmare.

the two may be extremely smart and artistic but they for sure, had different personalities.

miles morales is smart and passionate, committed to others before himself. he has a lot of love for science and art, which he got from his mother, making inventions since he was younger.

the two are both suckers for music, mixing beats as a hobby with their uncle aaron when they were younger.

miles is sociable around crowds, as even when he struggled to fit in after moving to brooklyn vision, would often start conversations with those he came across on the street.

though many of his acts are selfless, mikes is partly driven by low self-confidence in his own abilities, feeling smaller than he is.

since becoming spiderman, miles is extremely eager to help others. this is as much to his credit as it is to his detriment, as he will often put himself in grave, life-threatening danger, in his quest to protect his friends and those he cares about.

myles morales, on the other hand, may also be smart but he’s closed off only being carefree with you and his twin brother. he also has a lot of love for art, spray painting with his brother.

myles isn’t one to talk, again, he’s closed off and usually upholds a stoic persona, opposed to his brother who doesn’t have a problem showing how passionate and cheerful he is.

with him being the prowler, and technically being labeled as ‘spidermans rival’, ignoring that the prowler is his own being. he had a strong morality of protecting his family and you after his father had died.

to which leads him also going into life-threatening dangers.

“[name], do you have any idea how lucky you? like, i would die to be in your spot!” you rolled your eyes at that sentence, “then do it.” your snark reply made a few people in the hallway snicker.

now back to you, [name] [lastname], the robot-technology-hacking loving nerd that grew with the morales twins and them fighting over you, it’s not something that’s lucky.

that constantly one-upped eachother to gain your attention, to the point they wouldn’t HESITATE to embarrass eachother in front of you along with literally fighting who got the best present for you.

it didn’t help since you liked both of them, i mean, how couldn’t you not like them? they were literally labeled ‘most attractive boys alive’ and their personality didn’t help, why do you think you fell deeply in love?

“i got the best gift-“

“i did!”

your bestfriend, gwen stacy, sneaked her arm around you, “i obviously did.” she gave you a smug looked as you sighed in your hands with embarrassment, remembering the time you two accidentally kissed (more like pecked eachother on the lip).

you two vowed to never talk about that again but since that was two years ago, you guys are all 15 by the way, which you guys were 13 by the time she stole your first kiss.

the morales twins didn’t like that, uhh, next!

“ahora no es el momento, gwen.” you muttered, expressing massive stress from the two and the welcomed gwen, “i — uh, failed spanish.” you made a ‘that’s-the-point-‘ look.

“siempre suenas bien hablando en español.” myles commented, shooing gwen’s arm off your shoulder and throwing his arm over yours instead.

“get apagado de [nombre], myles.” miles rolled his eyes and scoffed at his twin, “at least i get an a+ in spanish.” miles gasped at the comment with offence.

“this is why you’re failing science, estúpido!”

“estoy siendo peleado por gemelos estúpidos.” you pinched the bridge of your nose before sneaking out between the twins quarrel, heading over to foam party.

did i mention that you won awards and was on the news for making a working robot suit and finding out how to time travel?

mutters and comments were heard in the coffee shop, irritating your already bad headache. ‘i hate society.’ you rubbed your temples, before ordering your drink and waited.

apparently those minutes of waiting, you got… weird, suggestive comments from grown adults. your face scrunched up every time they said something about you.

“that shirt really compliments your curves.”

you’re were just 15.

“you’ll find a person just like me.”

they were in their late 30s.

“how ‘bout instead of wasting your pretty little time in this coffee shop, you come to my place.”

you just wanted your coffee.

“can i get your number?”

stop.

“you’re really sexy.”

stop it.

they tried grabbing your hand.

“i’ll treat you better.”

stop it. they tried kissing your hand before someone clocked them in the face, “aren’t you an adult, man?” miles’ voice was heard beside your ear as he tried comforting you.

myles rubbed his knuckles with a grossed look on his face. they saw that they were harassing you as you tried to move away from them, worst thing yet, nobody tried to do anything.

they saw what was happening but didn’t help, god they really hated adults.

“acércate a ellos, y será mucho peor que un puñetazo en la cara.” they ran off, myles grabbed your order as the three of you left. it was quiet, too quiet for your looking.

“i could’ve handled that y’know—“ miles handed you a box, opening it to which showed a necklace with a charm that was your hacker logo. you could feel the myles’ eye twitched.

“remember i got [name] a car—“

“shut the hell up, man!”

[name] after the morales twins keep giving them money and gifts.

[winterarmyy]

Until Then

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: A mission back in time brought Y/N to an unexpected encounter with the man she fell in love with.

Words: 2.3k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: melancholy-ish plot line with fluffy ending

Inspiration: "You still would've turn my head, even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944 and you were heading off to fight in the war" – Timeless (From the Vault) by Taylor Swift

Read my other works here: Masterlist

It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission. Y/N and Tony were sent back in time to 1944; one day before Captain America and the Howling Commandos deployed to their next mission at the Austrian Alps, in Europe.

The duo were supposed to retrieve some lost files regarding Hydra's hidden bunks and labs back in the days. After the fight with Thanos, there were rumours of the re-creation of Project Winter Soldier lead by an organization that once associated with Hydra. So, they need all the information they could get their hands on; including the ones that are lost decades ago.

Unfortunately for them SHIELD used to be shitty at storing physical files back in the days. To be fair they still do, especially now that technology had advanced. Every single information were at the tip of their fingers; from typical criminal records to the name of every single doctor and nurses who were present when the person was born.

They literally have everything. And nothing at the same time.

And honestly, the mission was quick as they predicted. Tony managed to scanned the needed files and some others that he thought would be important. He's extra like that too, which was a plus.

However quick the mission supposed to be, they barely make it though, especially when the guards were suspicious of Tony's apparently "hippie" beard. It was such a shame. So much for dressing up in 40's style. They kind of nailed the outfit and aesthetics, according to Steve anyway.

However, thankfully by the time they got out of the facility they managed fit right in with crowd. The wave of people lead the duo along its current, more and more people joined in to the point that they weren't able to find any quiet place to activate their time device.

"I thought we're still in WWII? Why is there fucking a parade in the middle of the day?" Tony being unapologetically sarcastic as always.

Y/N looked around as she observed, there was couple of people animatedly, albeit, excitedly exclaimed to the streak of success of Captain America and the Howling Commandos in the war.

A little to the right of them, were a group of children who were semi-cosplaying as Captain America and his dream team, passionately play-fighting with the enemies as if they were in a theater performance.

"I guess they're celebrating small wins. Steve and his team did have several successful raids since the battle at Azzano." It was in fact true; what Y/N speculated was exactly the very reason of the current occasion.

Tony simply shrugged as he stretched his neck higher to hopefully find the end the crowd, "Sure, just keep your eyes open for a place to time jump. I don't want to be stuck in the middle of another war." Y/N nodded as she looked around the sides, wondering if there's an empty alleyway that they could use.

The more sketchy looking it was, the better.

The crowd was chaotic with different mix of conversations and cheers; voices intertwining with one another, each sentences criss and crosses into indecipherable storyline. But even then, Y/N could recognized that breathy, slightly giggly laughter anywhere.

Especially when he brushed right by her.

Y/N was well aware of how madly in love she was with Bucky even with the coy cat-and-mouse game they were playing for months. She knew exactly the hold he had on her soul that at some point, she was conviced that he still would've turn her head in any lifetime.

But that idea was only supposed to be one of the secrets in her mind; the thoughts of a hopeless romantic that she was. Certainly, she didn't dreamt of the vision for it come true. But there she was, frozen on her spot when the time stood still on the crowded street in 1944; fortuitously crossing path with man she fell in love with.

There weren't any suitable explanation for this other than it was fate. In that short milliseconds, Y/N saw the resemblance of the sight to a memory of hers in the crowded room a few short years ago; his left arm slung around Steve's neck, letting his weight leaned on his super soldier friend as he let out a hearty laughter.

There were only slight difference from what she saw before and what she currently seeing; Bucky wore an all black suit at that party, now he's wearing his military uniform in a parade. Bucky was dead drunk on Asguardian mead that night, now he's as sober as a soldier deprived of liquor. Bucky's left hand was adorned with high-tech vibranium metal, now that very hand was still made of flesh and blood, still alive.

During that brief moment of revelation, she truly believed that they were supposed to find this.

Whatever this is supposed to be; Fate? Love? Both? She was not sure either.

She was so stuck on holding her gaze on his back as the young soldier walked a few steps away from her that she didn't notice how the people in the surge glared at her unmoving state or how she had been astray from Tony.

Well, at least it only lasted until someone bumped into her and she staggered backwards, inevitably fell on the ground.

Y/N groaned but quickly patted her pockets to find her time device was still there. I mean, she can never be sure if it was just an accident that she fell or someone intended to distract her while pick-pocketing her belongings.

Though other people would probably already stood on  their feet but Y/N was still on the dusty road, as she was busy recollecting her mental state rather than her physical.

That was when a calloused hand reached out to her, offering a kind help.

She didn't think twice to take his hand, let alone looking up at his face when she gripped it tight enough to make a solid foundation to push herself against the gravity, "Oh dear me! Thank you so much, sir. I really..." She lost her momentum when she met the pale blue of his eyes, "...appreciate it." She ended the sentence breathlessly.

It's Bucky. Her brain tried to let her process the thought. It was not her Bucky but still... it's Bucky. Her eyes then fell to where their skin touched. Warm and gentle. His left hand felt the exact same as his right. It made her to cave in the urge to hold it a little longer, to savour the memory of what it could've been; not that she weren't fond of his vibranium arm but curiosity can be such a fickle thing.

Bucky smiled, "Glad to help, my lady." And oh dear does he smiled effortlessly, freely; as if he knew he deserved to feel joy in his life.

Even if she didn't want to, she had to let go of his hand after a few seconds too long of holding it when she was already up and ready to go. She returned his smile though her heart was barely tough enough to stop the spreading of its cracks, "Really, I can't thank you enough."

In reality, it was probably unnecessary to thank him that much for helping her to get back on her feet, but Y/N wasn't really thanking him just for that.

Unbeknownst to him, she was thanking him for not holding back a smile, for not overthinking about the things he might have done to draw a conclusion that he was undeserving have the luxury to smile, for unapologetically just living the life he supposed to have.

She thanked him for it.

Bucky chuckled amusingly as he slightly titled his head to the side. A charming pull on the corner of his lips revealed a smile that could swoon anyone on sight, especially her.

"Well, we're having a little party tonight before deploying to Europe tomorrow. So, maybe you can thank me by letting me bring you to the dance? How about that, doll?" She almost forgot that Steve was there next to him, until Bucky references the word "we".

And especially when his words might just pulled Y/N's heartstrings in ways that she could never thought someone could do. It was awfully slow, almost too delicate of a pull, but each inches of it pained her deeply.

If it was up to her, she would've said yes a million times over but she knew she can't. And the voice in her earpiece reminded her of it, "Y/N, we gotta go." Tony urged as he watched her from the corner of the street.

Y/N tried her best not let her facial expression flatter, "Unfortunately, I can't. I'm going back to my hometown today." It wasn't exactly a lie when she made that excuse.

"Ohh, I see. You're not from here, huh?" Bucky was very honest as his reaction clearly showed his disappointment. Though not at her, just at the situation.

Her brows briefly crunch into an apologizing plead before she boldly grabbed him by the collar of his uniform, slightly pulled him down to her level, while the other hand cupped one side of his face.

She tiptoed herself upwards as she pressed a firm yet sweet kiss on the smooth skin of his cheek and whispered against it, "But, I hope this would do."

Lost for words, heck, Bucky was lost for thoughts. What was left was his own heart thumping hard and loud that he bet Steve can hear it from where he was standing. His cheeks became warmer by the second and the redness spreads even to the tip of his ears.

Of course he had his cheek kissed before, but not like this. None of them felt like this. They were always too fast, too hasty.

Hers was different. It lingered a little longer, gently leaving her imprint on him. He can feel her grip on his collar, the stroke of her thumb on his cheek and of course the soft pressure of her lips on the other side of his face. He could everything so particularly.

Bucky was rendered speechless even after she pulled her lips away; it was too soon for his comfort. Eyes wide open, his lips slightly parted as he let himself lost in the pleasant surprise.

He thought she would parted herself and ran away feeling embarrassed, but she did the very opposite. Y/N lead his forehead to lean on hers, tip of their nose grazed, and her lips hovered above his.

So close, yet refused to merge with one another.

Y/N whispered quietly, as if she was talking to herself, "You'll be fine, James. You'll find home in the future. I promise."

Her voice trembled as Bucky just noticed how wet her eyes were becoming. With that amount of tears in them, he wondered if her sight were all blurry now.

Y/N took in a shaky breath before continuing, "You just need to survive the winter and trust me at the end of that season, you'll reach the sun again." Her thumbs softly traces his cheeks as she spoke.

Bucky didn't quite understand what she was saying but if he loosely translate it, it would mean that 'she believed that he'll be back soon after the war'. But then again, he felt like there were some major things that was missing from the context that he came up with.

Y/N's earpiece send another transmission of Tony's voice, "Okay, seriously. Come on, Juliette. Your other Romeo is waiting for you." She couldn't help but to smile as she closed her eyes, letting the excess tears fall down to her cheeks.

She didn't want to say goodbye, as she knew that this was not where their story ends, at least not his; that's for sure. So, she simply smiled up at him with a reassuring look in her eyes before stepping back. She then, briefly turned her attention to the dumbfounded Steve, gracing him with a similar smile before walking away.

It was just a few steps away when her hand was caught in between someone's, "Hey!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see Bucky; wide eye, blinking in disbelief and blushing red, all at the same time, "WiIl... Will I see you again?" He asked, though hesitant; wondering if he was being rude.

Compared to what she had done to him, he was just being too polite.

Y/N chuckled dearly, "Of course." Then she replied confidently, "I owe you a dance after all." Her lips parted into a cheeky grin.

Bucky let out a sharp relieved sigh as his lips mimic hers, "I'll look forward to it, doll." He slightly bowed as his hand pulled hers closer to his lips, "Until then." He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand as his gaze remained on hers.

Apparently, it was Y/N's turn to blush to his antics. She stepped back shyly as her cheeks brightens before scurring away. Maybe, Bucky was right with his prediction prior. She did ran away feeling embarrassed after all.

She jogged towards the next corner of the street, meeting up with Tony. The older might have eyeing her in a teasing manner, but his smirk was the biggest giveaway. Y/N simply rolled her eyes, even if her lips maintained its shape from the aftermath of her encounter with Bucky.

As they entered deeper into the alleyway, Tony spoke, "I gotta admit, young terminator was a hottie. Not hotter than me, of course." he claimed.

Y/N frowned, letting out a scoff, "What do you mean "was"? He still is." Call it bias, but at least she was telling the truth.

Tony shrugged, "Meh. Would argue to differ. But, whatever that floats your boat, I guess?" Tony sassed as they clicked on the time device at the same time, revealing a swirlling portal, in front of them.

Y/N quirked her brow, her hands on her hips, "You're just jealous that he aged like a fine fucking wine and you don't." She purposely challenged his ego.

Tony dramatically rolled his eyes, "Please. He wishes." He walked into portal with an attitude, making Y/N laughed at his childish acts.

She looked back at the alleyway one last time and reminisce the last moments of a past that she never belong in. As she walked into the portal, she thought that maybe, it's time to pay her debt to Bucky.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The start of bucky drabbles because why not. This is considered a drabble for me because i feel like there's lack of story building. But, you tell me. And did you enjoy it?

[sexhaver]

are you a fan/supporter of AI-generated art, and if so, why? i've frankly never understood why people like it and i'm trying to wrap my head around it. thanks :)

asking if im a "fan" of AI art is like asking if im a "fan" of Photoshop. it's a tool that has the potential to be used for shitty things (i.e. photoshopping pictures of someone to make them look bad, or training an AI model specifically on one artist and then undercutting that artist on commissions), but it's also a really fucking powerful tool that has the potential to push art in directions it could never feasibly go before. like, how do you read "people without an artistic bone in their body will be able to spin up dozens of pictures of whatever arbitrary thing they want" and jump straight to the ethics of sourcing the datasets and "robbing artists" and supporting draconian IP law without even admitting that, at a base level, that's a really cool and useful piece of technology to have.

part of the reason i keep posting about it is because i work in warehouse automation. ive spent the last decade learning how to automate shitty tasks that nobody in their right mind would want to do for free, and people STILL get upset that robotics are inherently "stealing their jobs". this is literally only a problem because of capitalism; in any sane world, a machine that can do shitty jobs would be a godsend. but when you need to work for a living, these robots become competition instead of tools to make your life better. and yet people will still direct their outrage at the robots themselves and not their bosses or capitalism as a whole

the same thing is happening with AI art. without capitalism forcing artists to draw for survival, the ability for non-artists to create art at a whim would be a tool with a wide range of applications. under capitalism, however, these tools become competition. and yet again, people are directing their rage at the people making this good-in-a-vacuum technology instead of capitalism, or even more specifically, the miniscule percentage of AI artists who use the tech to financially harm artists by undercutting them on commissions.

of course, there's the added twist that, unlike stacking heavy cardboard boxes, art is something that a lot of people actually do enjoy intrinsically and would do for free. this has spawned an entirely separate branch of arguments against AI art based on ethics and philosophy instead of laws and finance. this branch argues that AI art is not just bad because it can directly financially harm artists who don't use it, but that it's actively eroding the concept of "art" itself. this is the branch that spawns soundbites like "AI art just copies from humans", "that's not art because it's soulless", and "what's even the point in making art when a robot can do it faster and better?"

i'm going to be blunt: this branch, just like any other train of thought that hinges on an unspecified definition of "true art" that ebbs and flows at the speaker's whim, is complete horseshit at best and outright reactionary at worst. unfortunately, it has also infected most of the anti-AI-art crowd to the point where it's almost impossible to find any arguments against AI art that don't eventually fall back on it

tl;dr: AI art is a powerful tool with the potential to benefit humanity at large, and desperately trying to stuff that genie back into the bottle [by donating to Disney's IP lawyers] because it scares you is not going to work

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Incel! Scaramouche x NB! Reader

This is an 18+ blog!!!! If you don’t like yandere content or are a minor, do not interact. thank you!

CW: Yandere content, stalking, creepy scaramouche, incel behavior, creepy behavior, toxic relationships, kidnapping, his friends encourage and enable his problematic behavior, brief fantasizing about a domestic husband/spouse dynamic, forced romantic relationship, non-consensual touching

*also just to be clear, this is loosely based off the term “incel,” his behavior is more like a creepy recluse if anything?? I just couldn’t think of a better word to use and I thought it fit okay. there’s no misogyny or extremely gross behavior involved, but he is creepy so just. keep that in mind. anyways, enjoy!

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Incel! Scaramouche who doesn’t get out much not because he has bad social skills (he does but that’s not the point), but because he loathes the idea of big crowds and being around lots of people. Socializing with people is already irritating enough, since he’s the only one on this earth who seems to have braincells. Why go out when he’s got everything he needs at home?

Incel! Scaramouche who has more money than he knows what to do with from his (insanely) loaded and emotionally distant mother (who gives it to him because she doesn’t know how to show affection any other way). he spends it all on expensive gaming set ups, take-out, and new technology all while being up in his top floor penthouse with a horizon line view.

Incel! Scaramouche who has friends, they’re just all online (and just as fucked up as he is) who he talks to (yells at) through the microphone while gaming.

Incel! Scaramouche who meets you while doing something mudane. He sees you at a grocery store picking over vegetables one day. Ignores you. 30 minutes later, he proceeds to bump into you and then acts like an asshole about you touching him, something that was clearly his fault. The two of you get into it, and eventually you’re the one to turn and walk away, already in a bad mood from the interaction. He’s interested now.

Incel! Scaramouche who isn’t delusional enough to convince himself that it’s fate, but who is curious enough to stalk follow you around for a while. He’s not hurting you or talking to you, what’s the harm done?

Incel! Scaramouche who while stalking monitoring you begins to note things about you. Unconsciously, of course. It’s not like his life revolves around you or anything. He just…starts to notice things. How you spend your days, what you like, what you don’t like, who you interact with and the places that you spend your time at the most. Soon enough he knows just as much about you habits and daily life as your friends do, if not more.

Incel! Scaramouche whos friends encourage his problematic behavior. They’re just as chronically online as he is, and have no conception of the morals and boundaries that come with having a healthy relationship. (Some of them, like Venti and Kazuha, even have a more romantic view of his infatuation interest, repeating that it’s okay to cross some lines, as long as it’s for love)

Incel! Scaramouche who has a weird view of relationships because his only knowledge on them comes from anime, the internet, and all the other types of weird media he consumes. (Should the kidnapping happen before or after your first date?) He’s not doing any of the cheesy shit the internet says. He’s not going to bring flowers, that would be stupid. (He’ll end up buying an overly large bouquet which he sends to your doorstep. there’s no note and you find it extremely creepy. You refuse to leave your home without pepper spray now)

Incel! Scaramouche who eventually just plucks you from the streets, right outside of your home/apartment building. No struggle to go along with it. Obviously you do fight back, but the men he hired to pick you up are far too experienced for you to even have a chance of running away.

Incel! Scaramouche who doesn’t really care about your feelings surrounding the whole situation. and well. he was getting a little lonely. most of his friends live too far away for them to meet up frequently, and it’s not like he’d want to see those crazy bastards everyday anyways. You’re much better company compared to those psychos, as much as he loathes to admit it. and you’re just so…pretty, and he can feel and touch you as much as he wants. it’s pleasant, and his apartment has never felt so full before, not at all empty like it did before he brought you here. you should be grateful you’re here too; he gives you everything you could ever want (within reason). really, you should feel grateful that you’ve been chosen by someone who’s so financially stable, who can provide for you.

you can have a good life with him, better than you could’ve had without him.

Incel! Scaramouche who kind of begins to see you as his little house spouse. nevermind that you’re here against your will; you’ve taken up doing chores around the house if only to fill the time, and it’s really only confirming his belief that kidnapping you was the best thing he could’ve done. when he comes through the door after a rare visit to the outside world and he sees you sitting there, idle, practically waiting for him? he feels like the typical breadwinner coming home to a loving domestic life. he’s not so delusional to think that you’re happy to be his little house spouse and captive, but it’s not like you can do anything about it, so he might as well enjoy the thought while he can.

[apas-95]

The fundamental point that should be taken away from all the questions of piracy, whether copying digital information is stealing, etc - is that information technology is fundamentally incompatible with capitalist relations of production.

The way we understand the value of an object is through the labour that goes into it. A berry picked from a bush requires minimal labour, has little value - that same berry mashed, boiled, jarred, and transported is far more valuable. The tools used to make it required their own labour to build - and they impart that labour over their lifetime. The stovetop that makes ten-thousand jars of jam before breaking down imparts one-ten-thousandth of its value into each jar of jam. Using modern technology, it wouldn't take a whole day's labour to make enough jam to live off for a day. The rest of the workday, then, can be devoted to producing beyond what is needed. Under capitalism, that extra productive time is turned over to the boss, as the source of profit - but that is particular to capitalism.

When we talk about information technology, these ideas begin to break down. A video game, for example, definitely has labour put into it. A computer, as well. If there existed but one copy of that video game, then it would be very valuable. If a computer cabinet had to be custom-built to hold each copy of the game, then copies of that game would be valuable. However, if that video game is simply information - simply a series of ones and zeroes that can be, at the cost of a few millijoules of power, seamlessly and perfectly copied, then it begins to lose value. The amount of labour put in remains the same, but now it is spread across two copies. As there is no real limit to how many copies can be made, and as each copy requires functionally no labour, the value of each copy approaches zero. That is to say, capitalist relations begin to break down. While the use-value of each copy remains the same - each game is still equally as desirable to play - the exchange-value, the price, fails to exist without scarcity. The only 'theft' being carried out is the collapse of potential profit for the capitalist.

When applied to art in specific, the results are even more stark. The reason a one-of-a-kind painting is 'worth' millions is because its owner has a monopoly on it. If a million identical paintings were produced, they would have the same aesthetic worth, but cost a pittance. For all the anger and vitriol from the 'AI art is theft' crowd against NFT types, the creation of the NFT was the attempt to force information technology in line with capitalist relations, to force scarcity and monopoly pricing into the digital realm. If you want to enforce your ownership over a JPEG, you should be aware of your bedfellows.

[loremaster]

CHAPTER 1 - Man Door Hand Nail Fur Door (Comic)

...aka the Zilara manifesto.

(tw: strangulation, suggestive themes) BOBA AU MASTERPOST: [link]

Yakou tells Yuma to go to the hotel and corral all the other detectives who have been sleeping soundly in the nice fancy rooms over there. Yuma, who got 3 hours of sleep on Yakou's creaky couch, says "Okay, sure thing, Dad." ((side note - wouldn't the train detectives have had rooms reserved at the hotel? Couldn't Yuma have had one of those?))

Instead of agreeing to meet up, they all send poor little Kokohead around the city doing side quests.

Pucci wants to know if Kanai Ward has any good symphonies; recordings of classical music are all well and good, but it's no substitute for the acoustics of a live concert hall. Closest thing Yuma can find is Aetheria Academy's chamber orchestra program. Musicians in Kanai Ward used to be part of a larger regional symphonic orchestra, but since Amaterasu locked off the city, they've had to resort to busking. Pucci seems disappointed, but resigns herself to checking out the high school girls' next concert anyway.

Aphex is cruisin' for a bruisin'. He spotted some suspicious movement in one of the districts on his radar (drug deals?), but every time he goes to check it out, he can't find out which people in the crowd are the suspicious ones. They must be afraid of Aphex's intimidating appearance, so Yuma goes in his stead to grill the people hanging around the square. Turns out they weren't dealing drugs, they were passing around anti-Amaterasu propaganda. They beg Yuma not to tell Aphex. Yuma goes back to the hotel to tell Aphex... who thinks anti-fascist action is cool, actually, so no need to do anything about those guys.

Melami wants to know about the local fashion scene, and is very curious about the dronebrellas she's seen around Kanai Ward. She sends Yuma to see what the big deal about them is, and once there, he gets roped into a long winding sales pitch for technology he can't afford. He relays as much of this as he can remember back to Melami, but once she hears they only come in one color, she decides she's not interested. What's the point if you can't customize it? Just get a regular umbrella. Or a rain coat. That's a much better way to show off your personality! Yuma tries not to scream about how much time he just wasted.

Zange shows Yuma a picture he took (with his mind) of a specific location in Kanai Ward, but can't quite remember where it was. Yuma has to go on a scavenger hunt to find the place that matches the picture and tell Zange how to get there. Zange assigns Yuma a numerical score based on how long it took him complete the quest (which is always too slow). This will be a repeatable quest/minigame with different locations every time.

As Yuma is about to leave the hotel, Zilch stops him. He offers a more formal introduction (since, you know, they didn't actually meet aboard the train) and volunteers (insists) to accompany the poor useless trainee as a senior detective, to show him how it's done.

Zilch has four animal companions with him at the moment: three caged mice and a dog named Bosch.

He doesn't seem to treat them very kindly, though. He isn't careful handling the mice's cage, and he orders Bosch around like one would speak to Alexa.

Anyway, Zilch and Yuma go look for the last remaining detective, Halara Nightmare. Canon ensues.

They run into The Boy and accept the quest to investigate the Nail Man murders. Halara needs some convincing.

At the church, Zilch makes a new friend, or so he thinks.

Zilch tactlessly asks the nun if her ears are natural or not, and starts bragging about how well his own surgery went. For the ears and tail, that is. The Nun doesn't like Zilch's attitude one bit. She watches him use his mice for spying and gets freaked out. The nun threatens to kill Zilch but he doesn't think she's serious.

Zilch says that he didn’t expect there to be a Metal Fox Church here, of all places. Yuma asks him to elaborate, and he says they’re a denomination that exists elsewhere in the world. The church near where he grew up was much larger and more spectacular than this one. The Metal Fox is a deity known for its fortitude and cunning, that offers protection from “hunters,” or persecution of any kind. Zilch doesn’t seem to believe in its teachings at all. #atheistpride

Meanwhile, the dog, Bosch, sniffs around and seems agitated by something. He can place the smells of all the church NPCs around the scene, but there's something else, too. Zilch barks the order - literally - for Bosch to track whichever scent doesn't belong, and the dog goes off on a solo mission.

Zilch has a plan to catch the Nail Man red-handed, but he won't tell what it is yet. He needs to prepare some stuff. So in the meantime, Yuma and Halara hold hands at several different crime scenes.

While Shinigami keeps blabbing about stripping detectives, Halara fucks off to who knows where and Yuma returns to the church to meet with Zilch. Zilch leads Yuma to the nearby woods and reveals his master plan to lure out the Nail Man by taking a doll with a slip of paper on it to the forest, and writing the name of someone for the Nail Man to kill...

"Yuma Kokohead," of course.

Yuma is terrified of being used as bait, but Zilch promises he'll intervene before the Nail Man can actually kill him, it'll be fine. So Yuma the pushover gets tied to a tree...

Halara unmasks the cloaked figure to reveal the priest of the Metal Fox Church, as they suspected. The priest begs for mercy - he was only trying to protect the people of Kanai Ward by purging it of corruption (and letting an innocent man take the fall for it)...!

Yuma thinks he might not have to rely on Shinigami's powers this time, but then...

Bosch leads them back to the church where Seth and his Peacekeepers are threatening Yakou.

And with that… it’s Mystery Labyrinth time!

Zilch’s voice is back to normal inside the Labyrinth. He seems oddly relaxed around Shinigami - because he insists this is not real and actually a dream. #atheist4lyfe

Yuma deduces that Zilch's name was written in the woods by the nun. She witnessed Zilch’s mistreatment of his animal companions and tactless assholery - but the thing that pushed it into murder territory was actually her recognizing the crest of the Alexander family on his fur coat. The full truth comes to light - the Alexanders have been known for generations as prolific trophy hunters. They “live alongside nature,” sure, but it’s a heavily controlled and subdued “nature.” This is antithetical to everything the Metal Fox Church stands for, so the nun, devout to her faith, believed Zilch to be an invasive threat to their way of life, and the peace of Kanai Ward.

And, since this revelation is taking place in the Mystery Labyrinth, of COURSE she gets a cool Mystery Phantom.

The gang also, like, solves the actual mystery.

Then once they find all the evidence they unmask the true culprit and his copycat, and the Priest's and Worshipper's souls are reaped.

Zilch is horrified. Somehow he didn't expect this was actually going to affect reality. Shinigami assures him that he won't remember any of the Mystery Labyrinth anyway, so...

Aaaaand eventually they do leave the Labyrinth. Halara is back to their usual steely exterior.

The masked priest in front of them drops to the floor dead. A scream from the church can be heard, presumably because the worshipper has just done the same. They go to check it out.

Then… Yomi shows up. He intimidates the group and doesn’t seem to deem any of the detectives worth his attention… until he notices Zilch.

Shinigami wonders if he recognized the Alexander family crest... but Yuma makes the connection and realizes Yomi might have had some sort of connection to the impostor on the train. That's pretty scary to think about. Was this the guy who tried to kill off all the Master Detectives coming into Kanai Ward? He seems dangerous...

Good thing Yomi has a devoted right hand to play around with. In front of everyone.

But anyway, regarding the Nail Man situation, Yomi decides to throw Seth under the bus, and punish him accordingly.

Bye Seth! Or should I say... Steve. :noes:

After his near-death experience, Zilch has a change of heart and decides he doesn't need a fur coat after all (seeing as it almost got him killed). Halara accepts it as payment for their services solving the case.... at least Zilch's half of it - Yuma still owes them a small fortune.

And with that the day is saved. Yuma plays a bit of baseball. Halara has a comfy new bed for their beloved strays. And Zilch... has a lot to think about.

-----

HELLO BOBA FANS!!! Thanks for your patience waiting for this update! I hope you can tell I've been working on this very hard (in between assignments for cartoon college)! The post didn't even fit all the images I made for this chapter - I'll be sure to post the other ones separately. At some point.

This chapter was an interesting challenge to write, trying to hammer down Zilch's character - how to make him distinct from his impersonator, but similar enough to lend credit to the impersonator. It took a while but I think I've finally landed on a solid backstory. I'll be posting more about him in the next installment of Boba AU - Zilch's Gumshoe Gabs. Then after that will be Chapter 2! Super excited to rub my gay little hands all over that one.

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, then please... I beg of you... draw me some Zilara ;_;

BOBA AU MASTERPOST: [link]

[jbk405]

So many people are misinterpreting one of the opening scenes of Prey, and they’re misinterpreting it the same way in complete opposite directions.

One of the first scenes shows Naru practicing with throwing her hatchet, and then attempting to use it to hunt a deer.  The deer is startled by a loud noise (What we know to be the Predator’s ship) and starts running, and despite a vigorous pursuit by Naru it manages to evade her and escape.

Many people, particularly the “she’s a Mary Sue” crowd but also some others who have criticized other aspects of the film, have lambasted the idea of showing her hunting with a throwing axe and being able to run as fast as a deer.  Axes are not hunting weapons, and no human can run fast enough to catch a deer on foot.  They say this is an example of either “woke” character shilling, or of ignorant/racist portrayals of Native Americans using ridiculous weaponry and bizarre feats of strength instead of the real-life technologies and skills of hunting.

Other people, generally those who are fans of the movie, love that this is an early establishment of her badass-ness and skill.  They say that it shows that she is a predator herself, and sets up her later confrontation with the Predator.

Except what both sides of this reaction don’t seem to get is that, as I said, the deer escapes.  Naru misses both of her throws with her axe, and even with her dog Sarii helping to corral the deer it still outpaces her and runs away.  Later, her mother explicitly points out that her hatchet is meant for harvesting and toolwork, not hunting.  And that no matter how close she got, you can’t eat “almost”.

Both sides of the response take this scene as some sort of victory for Naru, apparently missing the fact that despite all of her exertions she doesn’t bring home any food for her people.  Despite all of her training and skill with the axe the movie shows that it will never replace the bow-and-arrow as a means of distance striking (And even after multiple training montages, the only animal she actually manages to successfully hunt with her axe in the entire film are a couple of small rabbits).

I feel that that is the point of this scene: To show that you need to use the right tool for the job, and Naru has to learn that she can’t just brute-force your way to victory.  She keeps trying to find ways to improve her axe use (it was from her father, I understand why she tries to use it for everything she can), but when preparing for the final confrontation with the Predator she knows that she cannot rely on it as her killing weapon.  So despite continuing to use it as her fighting weapon (And she does very well with it) she arranges several other traps and ultimately plans on using the Predator’s own weapons to finish it off.  She gets in several good hits with the axe, but plans to strike the killing blow with a bow-and-arrow after all (Using the Predator’s advanced arrow-shooting device).

It’s a very clear arc for her and her hunting skills/style from the beginning to the end.  She learned from her failure at the start of the film and changed for the finale.

[enmasae]

Desire of the fittest - Part 2

Self Aware Genshin Alternate Universe - Guide AU (my own take on sagau)

Previous - Next

Warnings :

Adult content (such as violence, bullying, toxic relationships, cursing, angst, nsfw, and others) and yandere behavior (such as obsessive and possessive display)

Theories and lore informations

Since this is my take on an alternate version of Genshin Impact, I've taken the liberty to include elements that may not align with the game's lore but will make sense in this particular story.

Content : And they were roommates, Totally not illegal business meeting, Casual conversation between a pigeon and a dog, How to deal with your partner's ex

"-and that concludes our coverage of the catastrophic disasters currently happening around the globe. On a brighter note, it was recently announced that the renowned game Genshin Impact will explore new horizons to celebrate its 20th anniversary. Today, we have the co-creator and current CEO of Hoyoverse, Mr. Wei, to discuss this highly anticipated event."

The small crowd attending the live show applauds as the CEO makes his entrance. Despite being in his fifties, the man retains a well-preserved appearance under the studio lights, his bright and confident smile illuminating the room. He nods in acknowledgment to the camera and extends a handshake to the TV host, who accepts it. Gesturing for his guest to do the same, they both proceed to take a seat on comfortable sofas.

"Thank you for having me."

The host eagerly clasps her hands together and leans forward, keen to gather more information about the plans for one of the most popular games in its genre. Even with the passage of time, Genshin Impact continues to serve as a source of inspiration for many and boasts a substantial player base worldwide.

"Mr. Wei, we're delighted to have you here with us."

The company's CEO offers a gentle smile, his composed demeanor standing in stark contrast to the energetic TV presenter.

"The feeling is mutual."

Immediately delving into the topic, the host follows the interview script he was given, narrating the current situation for his viewers and initiating a conversation with his guest.

"Several years have passed since Genshin Impact's main storyline came to a close, leaving fans eager to uncover the reasons behind the event announced on social media. While virtual reality has been, indeed, quite the talk in the gaming community since the release of the new AETHERAL&LUMINUS technology, we're curious to know why Hoyoverse decided to enter the world of cyber technology. What led to such decision ?"

Aligning with the host's expectations, the man in his fifties softened his features, conveying a sense of sadness to emphazise his point.

"You may call it nostalgia but the team and I wanted to provide players with the opportunity to immerse themselves in the world of Teyvat one last time before the server's shutdown-"

"Boring..."

As the television screen dims, the ceo's voice fades into silence. Setting aside the remote, you find yourself drawn back into the embrace of your current companion, reveling in the affection he showers upon you. His lips delicately trace a path from your collarbone towards your throat, eventually meeting your own. As your eyes lock with his, you feel him whisper against your breath, anger kindled by your earlier statement.

"I allowed you to have fun with that descender, isn't that enough ?"

Maintaining eye contact, you seize his shoulder and skillfully shift positions, placing yourself atop him. Taking control, you lift his hands from your waist and secure them above his head. Aroused by the demeanor you display, he decides to let you to enjoy yourself and refrains from attempting to escape your hold. Savoring the moment, you slowly bring your face closer to his, allowing your lips to meet once more in a gentle union. As his lips moves forward to taste yours again, you assertively seize his jaw and unhinge it.

"Since when do I need your approval ?"

He escapes your grasp, emitting a painful cry. Clutching his jaw, he quickly realigns it with an audible crack and assesses its movement. Surprisingly, he doesn't appear overly shocked by your swift anger. He has to admit that he provoked it when he brought up your vessel. Well, former vessel, much to his satisfaction. He never held much fondness for the boy, believing he consumed too much of your time. He sighs while reclining on the couch, bringing you into a tight embrace. His gentle hand runs through your hair as he relish in the scent of your cosmetic products. While he remains unfazed by your unpredictable behavior, he doesn't hesitate to flatter you for forgiveness.

"You don't, but I appreciate when you consider it."

You dismiss his sweet words, recognizing them as mere attempts to please you, yet you accept them despite knowing him. He's an adept at manipulating others, appearing to have their best interests at heart while exploiting them. He creates an illusion of comfort and understanding, yet beneath it all, he harbors disdain for emotional displays. Even while knowing that, you prefer to believe in the distinctiveness of your relationship. You hope that he genuinely cares, even though your own feelings are uncertain. While you're not exactly friends, there's a sense of comfort in being your authentic self with him. Though not lovers, you find solace in holding each other during chilly nights, making the mutual loneliness less impactful.

Neither of you can define what you are in each other's eyes. That's why treating him the way you do comes more naturally, it spares you from overthinking.

"I'll play along, but only if you give me a little favor."

He notices the quiet sadness in your eyes but decides not to mention it. Smiling against your lips, he offers a gentle peck, silently seeking permission to go further. Forehead touching yours, he inhales your essence as you part your lips. Confident yet respectful, he explores your mouth at a measured pace, allowing brief breaks between the playful twirls of your tongues.

"Name it, and it'll be yours."

As you gradually pull back, you notice the man pouting, clearly yearning for the warmth you bestowed upon him. Although his clinginess strokes your ego and you enjoy feeling desired, it occasionally becomes irksome. The aftermath of the previous night speaks volume of how long it has been since both of you engaged in such passionate activities. Given your shared affinity for dominance games, perhaps it would have been wise to dial it down a notch.

"I want to be part of your project."

Instantly, the dark-haired man rejects the idea with disdain, his pout transforming into a disapproving snarl, and his nose scrunching in distaste at the mere thought.

"Out of the question."

Even if you saw coming this outcome, it doesn't prevent the surge of anger rising in your chest when he dismisses your request. In a swift motion, he seizes your forearm right before you could reach for the nearest empty alcohol bottle. While his hold lacks strenght, it effectively hinders you from shattering the glass against his head. Closing his eyes, he delicately brings your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on it.

"Losing you would drive me mad."

He might have intertwined his own existence with yours, yet, sometimes, it doesn't seem enough to keep you by his side. The intensity of your fascination for his domain unnerves him. While he had hoped for you to hold a similar affection for the present world you both inhabit, he acknowledges that these dying lands can never exude the radiance of Teyvat. Perhaps it was his error to entrust you with its care in his absence. He should have foreseen it. Even if you claim otherwise, he can only witness how your need for excitement is akin to theirs.

However, the issue resides within him, as he cannot bear witnessing the disappointment reflected on your face. With a sigh, the one who calls himself primordial release your arm and speak in a subdued tone, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Hypothetically speaking, if I were to allow you to blend in among them, what's in it for you ?"

In response to your silence, the man peeks in your direction, observing your bewildered, crunched-up face. Baffled, he lacks the time to react as you seize the hem of his partially unbuttoned shirt, propelling both of you upward. Guiding him to the rolling chair behind his desk, you swiftly pull him into it. Vaulting over the desk, you perch on its surface, placing your feet on either side of the chair's armrests, leaving him nowhere to run.

"You're joking right ?"

Seizing a knife lodged in the table, you extract it with a resounding crunch of the desk's wood. Positioning it beneath your partner's chin, his shaved face provides no shield against the blade. The man chuckles dryly, raising his hand leisurely to grasp the weapon's tip, casually creating some distance between it and his neck.

"Sadly, i don't do jokes."

Releasing the knife, you allow him to toss it aside, observing its slide on the floor and joining your collection of 'toys'. He rises from the chair and gently guides your back against the desk. His hands trace the contours of your body, scarcely concealed by the remaining clothes he didn't ripped apart. His touch eventually lands on your hands, leading them to his face. His colorless eyes delve into yours, restraining unspoken feelings in the air, akin to words on the verge of being uttered. Relinquishing your gaze, his lips caress your ears, whispering his anguish.

"Tell me why you're so eager to go there when you can stay here with me."

Running your fingers through his lengthy ebony hair, lazily gathered in a disheveled bun, you pull his head in front of yours. Removing the hairpin securing his hair, you let it cascade down, framing both of your faces.

"Freedom, Attention, Love, Entertainment... All guides are driven by their desires."

Your thumb glides down his lips, parting them and revealing the piercing on his tongue.

"I'm no exception, Phanes."

The ancient being chuckles softly, his laughter resonating deeply. He allows you to lead him towards your lips, his own already parted and eager to savor the taste of yours once again.

"We both know you're more than that."

While it's true that at times you remind him of those bastards, he can't fault you for it as it's in your nature to act this way. He just needs to make sure you never consider returning to your roots. Despite being the divine one of both, he'll gladly worship your entirety to ensure you remain by his side.

"My sweet partner in crime~, why won't you let me take care of you ?"

You know that if he was given the chance, Phanes would drive you to the brink of insanity day and night, ensuring you forget everything else but him. Unfortunately for the man, you're not interested in such fate. He won't be the one to stop you from pursuing what you want.

"If you truly cared for me, you'll let me go."

At your words, the primordial one rolls his eyes and deliberately collapses on top of you, relying on you to carry his weight. Despite his slender build, you struggle to pry him off from yourself as his arms hugs you close. Unfortunately, all you manage to achieve is getting his hair out of your face. As he rests his head in the crook of your neck, he examines the hickeys he bestowed upon you as gifts from the previous night. Relishing in the fact he has matching ones on his own neck, he yelps in surprise when you tug on his hair and push him to your right. He grunts and sighs, his palm massaging his scalp, irritated with your behavior.

"Oh, yes. Why didn't I think of that earlier ? Allowing you to dive headfirst into an unfair game specifically designed to trap and torture your kind will truly show how much I value you."

You chuckle at his sarcasm, then hop off the desk to head towards your belongings.

"And here I thought you couldn't be funny."

The gentle sound of your laughter coaxes a shift in his grumpy demeanor, replaced with a heartfelt smile. He takes pleasure in the melodic tones and reciprocates with a contented hum. If he were to pick a favorite sound, it would undoubtedly be your laughter, closely followed by the lovely way you scream his name in ecstasy. Yet, his grin quickly vanishes when he realizes what you're holding. Closing the distance in the blink of an eye, he tries to snatch the small device from your grip. You skillfully dodge his attempts, refusing to let him have his way. Seizing his hand, you twist it with a resounding crack, forcing him to drop to his knees.

"Isn't this fascinating ? That such itty-bitty trinket supposedly holds all the rights you wield over Teyvat. Must be so tiny because, you know, there's not much to brag about."

Having an idea of how you got it, he mentally scolds his shades for being too lenient with you. While you marvel at the tear-sized pearl, you remain oblivious to Phanes breaking into a nervous sweat. You might not grasp its usage yet, but he harbors no doubt that if he doesn't reclaim it soon, you'll figure it out eventually.

"I am the sole reason for Teyvat's current state. It's only thanks to me that those fools can enjoy their meaningless life."

He frees himself from your grasp, swiftly snatching back in place his wrist. Glancing up at you, he watches as you casually toy with the device, spinning it around with the chain and frame-like ornement keeping it secure.

"Says the one who prefers to live in isolation while 'his' world steadily erodes itself after each little 'cycles' you make it goes through."

Before Phanes can respond, a loud whistle pierces the air, catching both your attention and his.

"Man, they got you there."

As the primordial one sees one of his shades making himself comfortable on the couch, munching on some junk food he found somewhere, he groans in annoyance.

"Ugh, Istaroth, don't you have better things to do ?"

The man appears to ponder for a moment as he reaches the bottom of his snack bag. Upon realizing the absence of treats, he deftly snaps his fingers, causing the bag to replenish itself as if it had never been touched. Propping his cheek on his fist, he grabs a handful of snacks, shoving them into his mouth and chewing audibly. Observing the snack bag mysteriously being propelled toward the trash can, he hastily gulps down the remaining food, sighing in disappointment. Nonchalantly inspecting his nails, he brushes off the snack's crumbs, seemingly unfazed by the threatening glare from his boss.

"Apart from watching the two of you acting like animals in heat ? Not really."

While you prefer to remain clueless about how long he's been lurking unnoticed, you see that Phanes doesn't share your point of view. Gesturing angrily at his subordinate, his eyes betray a poorly concealed anger as his lips curls in disdain.

"First off, how dare you disrespect our privacy. Secondly, get your mind out of the gutter, we're not fucking, it's just-"

Phanes comes to a sudden stop, taking in the situation before him. With him on his knees, perfectly positioned to reach your pelvis, one could easily think he's about to give you a head job. You chuckle at the sight of him swiftly rising to his feet and hastily adjusting his partially undone shirt. The shade appears unfazed by his boss's embarrassment, having witnessed and heard far worse.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm not paid enough to deal with your abandonment issues."

The dark-skinned man reaches for a bottle on the floor but decides against taking a sip of whatever's left after some consideration. While Phanes busies himself searching for the remainder of his clothes, you saunter over to the shade in a seductive manner. As the divine being catches sight of your approach, he curses under his breath and feigns interest in the bottle in his hand. He flinches when you place your hand on his shoulder, while the other begins to caress his cheek.

"Hands off, sweetheart. I've got a keen sense of hygiene, and I know you didn't wash those hands of yours."

He swats your hand away from his cheek and pinches the other as if discarding trash, tossing it aside. You hum and flop onto the couch beside him, eliciting a grunt from the shade.

"Such perfect timing, Istaroth."

"With all due respect, which is none, screw you."

Glancing at the jewel in your hands, a mischievous impulse seizes you. Tossing the pearl towards Phanes, you watch as he dives to the floor to catch it, exhaling with relief upon success. With his head conveniently positioned at the perfect height for you to lift it with your bare foot under his chin, you compel him to look at you.

"Would you mind persuading your boss to let me do as I please ?"

Taking advantage of your momentary distraction, the primordial one signals to his shade to refuse, mimicking a throat-slitting gesture. Despite being molded from Phanes' flesh, he lacks the soft spot his creator seems to have for you, preferring to keep a safe distance from your antics. Even if his boss were to order him to indulge your whims, he would most likely flat-out refuse.

"Hard pass, sweetheart."

You glance at the divine being sprawled at your feet, examining his little trinket for any cracks. You rise to your feet, causing him to lose his head support and bonk his chin on the unforgiving floor. As the pearl slips from his fingers and starts its daring escape, he's on it like a squirrel chasing a nut, scrambling to catch up. Unfortunately for him, you reclaim it before he has the chance.

"And here I was expecting you'll be the first to want me out of here~."

Istaroth tumbles on his fist and then reluctantly straightens up, a smile spreading across his face's features. Rising from the ground, Phanes approaches you. While his arms gently embrace you, his gaze remains fixed on the jewel you're holding.

"Wait a minute... You want to leave ?"

As his gold-like eyes sparkled with excitement, he might sound a tad too pleased to your liking but you'll gladly take whatever enthusiasm you can get. You firmly press your palm against the primordial one's face, preventing him from reclaiming the symbol of his authority. The sound of his nose yielding under your palm reaches your ears, evoking a high-pitched grunt from him, not that you cared. With determined strikes, you approach the shade, affectionately pinching his cheek as one might do with a child.

"Exactly ! How clever of you ! Good job on figuring it out !"

You grab his hand and swap positions, flopping onto the couch and sending him stumbling towards the god, who's still inspecting his crooked nose in a mirror after you intentionally crushed it. As Phanes shoots a disapproving glance at his subordinate without even turning his head, the shade doesn't get a chance to speak, only receiving a grunt of warning from his boss.

"Not. A. Chance."

With no further resistance, Istaroth raises his arms in surrender and turns around. Displeased with how quickly he gave in, you shoot him a disappointed stare as he flops back onto the couch next to you. Feeling uneasy under your accusing gaze, his eyes avoid yours, darting away.

"Listen, sweetheart. If he didn't listen to you, he certainly won't give a shit about what I say."

Every gaze converges on the desk when Phanes' phone, emitting a distinctive ringtone, disrupts the room, prompting a weary sigh from you. Despite your expectations that he would have gotten rid of it by now, it becomes evident that the voicemail you recorded for him long ago still remains. A cringe washes over you as you hear your own voice trashtalking Phanes to answer the call. Istaroth appears equally displeased, emitting a grunt and burying his face in one of the couch's pillows.

"-fucking bitch ! You better pick up your goddamn phone if you don't want me to shove it down your throat and making you gag like the slut you are-"

A breath of relief escapes you as the deity declines the call upon checking the caller's identity. Unfortunately, the relief is short-lived as the persistent dialler triggers the ringtone once more, demonstrating a fervent desire to speak with Phanes. Having no intention of talking with this particular individual, he forcefully crushes his own phone, ending the incessant ringing. Tossing the damaged device into a nearby bin, he gestures towards his personal notebook to remind him he will need a replacement. Istaroth grumbles into the pillow, clearly irritated but reluctantly acknowledge the directive.

"Noted."

With a tilt of your head, you silently inquire for more information from the god. Phanes, in response, takes your hand and gently guides you to stand, initiating a comforting embrace. Creating a bit of space between the two of you, he delicately retrieves the jewel from the tips of your fingers, all the while maintaining an unwavering gaze with you.

"Don't you fret about such a thing, [Name]. As for your heart's desire, let me take a little while to think it over, and I promise to return with a delightful response just for you. In the meantime, I must have a talk with Istaroth. Would you be a darling and wait for me outside? It won't be long, I assure you."

Skeptical, you emit a doubtful hum, not entirely swayed by his sickly sweet display. Contrary to his anticipations, you don't put up a fight and merely leave the room with an nonchalant wave of your hand. As the appartment's door closes, Istaroth rolls onto his back, casually inspecting his nails as he typically resorts to when boredom sets in.

"Perhaps, it's time for you to let them go."

Regret floods Istaroth swiftly as his blood begins to congeal within his veins, causing him to gasp for breath and emit painful grunts. Collapsing from the couch, he struggles to lift his gaze towards his creator, his vision blurring with the intensity of his suffering.

"And I think it's about time you remember your place. Don't delude yourself into thinking that I've forgotten how you used to help them sneaking around with their ex vessel while I was looking the other way."

The shade gasps for air, sensing his body liberated from the torturous grip Phanes had on it. Coughing, his fist clenches as he swallows down any words that might further sour the mood of his creator. Over time, he has grown indifferent to such torment, losing the will to care or worry about his condemned immortal existence. While there is no hope left for him, there's still a chance for you to embrace the freedom he yearns for. Unknown to the primordial one, he is determined to help you achieve that.

"On the subject of discussion, I better mention this before it slips my mind."

Kneeling down, Istaroth keeps his head bowed, concealing the faint smile playing on his lips. Don't waste the opportunity he's granting you, because even he recognizes that time is running thin.

"Asmoday got killed."

Upon learning the demise of one of his shades, Phanes seizes his subordinate by the neck, pulling him up to his own eye level. Hindered by the contrast in height, Istaroth struggles to breathe, his feet flailing in the air as his creator seems to blame him for the distressing news.

"And by who ?"

Baring his teeth in response to the pain he endures, Istaroth chuckles drily as he struggles to breath.

"I believe- that the fourth descender- actively searching his lost guide within our quarters- is enough of an answer-."

A heavy silence falls upon the room, the air thick with tension. Istaroth's feeble attempt at breathing gradually fade as his creator's grip tightens around his neck. Shortly after, the only audible sound for the shade becomes the echoing reverberation of his own heartbeat in his ears. With adrenaline coursing through him, he looks in horror at the wide and contemplative eyes of his master, engulfed in anger prompted by memories from a distant era. An abrupt gasp resonates as the shade is released, collapsing at Phanes's feet. His heart pounds wildly, eyes wide with fear as his body trembles under the lingering tension.

"You're fired."

As the apartment door slams shut, Istaroth gradually allows his nerves to settle.

"Hourray... vacations."

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"Well, look who it is ! The one and only [Name]. Still on a leash, I presume ? I guess some things never change."

Glancing at the dame lounging on your left, flaunting her arms on the rail, she grins with a wickedness that could make gods blush. You emit a dismissive grunt and slump against the fence, both hands shielding your eyes briefly before giving your face a vigorous wipe, as if hoping to erase her existence. Unfortunately for you, she has no intention of leaving you be. Even though you wish you hadn't, you've mastered recognizing her bewitching crimson gaze, no matter the vessel she assumes. Before you stands Valefor, one of your fellow guides fueled by an insatiable thirst for power. It's not that you despise her more than the others, she's simply an unnecessary pain in the ass right now. Given her impatience, you opt to ignore her until she decides to leave on her own. No need to make a fuss over someone undeserving of such attention.

"Come on, lighten up ! That's not how you should treat your best friend~."

After a nudge from her elbow, you grab your drink and navigate the mezzanine alongside the fortunate few selected players. The sight of their camaraderie before the competition sickens you. Guides, by their very nature, don't blend seamlessly. They never have, possessing too much pride for such alliances. True friendships among them are scarce. Typically, collaborations are brief, driven by mutual benefits before one inevitably betrays the other.

As you weave through the crowd, you notice flickers of recognition in the eyes of some attendees, coupled with hushed comments. Despite the revival of unpleasant memories under their scrutinizing gazes, you maintain your pride, holding your head high. You don't hesitate to reciprocate their side glances, forcing them to avert their eyes. As you head toward a more secluded area of the reception room, you notice Valefor trailing after you, engaging in a few greetings with others along the way.

"Wait- Listen, I really need to talk to you, alright ?"

You sigh at her persistence and come to an abrupt stop, causing her to bump into you. Seizing her wrist, you pull her into one of the VIP rooms and throw her inside, making her stumble before finding her balance. Unfolding a small piece of paper, you ignite it, strange symbols manifesting in the air with a golden hue. Running your fingers together, you cast a brief glance back at the frozen crowd before shutting the curtains of the room. Valefor watches in amazement as the curtains defy the laws of physics, their movement ceasing once you release them.

"Time stopping, uh ? Neat. Is it a little trick from one of your newfound friends ?"

Settling onto one of the cushions, you take a sip of your drink and dismissively ignore her comment.

"I was told by Istaroth that you were advised to maintain a low profile. Guess it was too complicated for a meathead like you."

Taking residence on a couch opposite you, she flops onto it like a toddler and begins playing with the electrical device that allows the couch to transition from a sitting position to a reclining one. Despite of the unsettling noise, you only angrily sip on your drink, at least for now. You're confident that someday you'll get the chance to annoy her in return.

"I'm a guide, I do things my way. Anyway, the little birdie didn't say much about what all the fuss is about."

After finishing your drink, you spit out a small gem resembling a pearl but shaped like a tear, retrieving it from your tongue. At this sight, Valefor mutters a quiet "gross" under her breath before recognizing what you're holding. As you place it on the table, the guide shifts position, perching at the edge of the couch with a broad smile on her face.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit. You're fucking nuts, you know that ?"

You're not crazy enough to snatch the real deal from one of the most powerful gods and keep it for yourself. The little act you staged earlier was merely a ruse to make him believe you'd attempted to steal it and coax him into doing what you wanted. Unfortunately for him, you knew he'd never give in to your demands. That's why you had Istaroth retrieve it for you, but from a far away future. And this is the one you're showcasing now, although she doesn't need to be privy to that detail.

"Phanes expects me to follow his rules, but I couldn't care less about what he wants. So, here's the deal. I'll hand over the little trinket, and in return, you use it to send me to Teyvat."

Doubtful as she should be, or you might have lost all hopes for her, she squints before bringing her face closer to it for a better look. When she glances back up at you, she raises an eyebrow, sensing that something is amiss.

"Why not just use it yourself to get there directly?"

You scornfully scoff and regard the jewel with disdain.

"You think I haven't tried ? It recognizes the one trying to use it, and unfortunately, it only listens to that slut. Even Istaroth couldn't get it to submit to him."

From what she knows, you're more of a whore than he'll ever be, but she refrains from mentioning it.

"And what makes you think I can when not even a shade could ?"

Well, you didn't have much of a choice to begin with. Even though seeking help from one of your kind implies you've hit a low point, you won't allow her to mock you.

"It's a bit of a gamble, but I figured someone with your abilities could tame this little thing. Or is your desire for power nothing more than a joke ?"

As her eyes twitch, you know you've won. There's nothing more effective than challenging a guide to get them to do what you want.

"Deal. But I'd like to ask a question before."

Intrigued about what she might ask, you tilt your head slightly as a silent approval for her to proceed.

"At the very least, was he good in bed ?"

A smirk plays across your face. You hate to admit it, but he's got some skills when it comes to giving pleasure. Not that you'll vocalize it, though.

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In one of the storage rooms within the same complex building, an elderly woman joyfully dances to classic hit that was popular in her time. Unfortunately, her little dance session is abruptly interrupted when a star-shaped portal unexpectedly materializes, tearing through the fabric of reality and remaining open long enough for its creator to tumble into the small room, dislodging multiple boxes in the process. Having served as a janitor for the company that owns the building for quite some time, she has grown accustomed to the unusual events that tend to unfold, allowing her to remain unfazed by the recent occurrence. With a frown directed at the spilled cleaning supplies, she removes her large music headset and exhales in mild irritation.

"Really ? This is the end of my shift."

The woman with platinum hair grunts in pain as she slowly rises, her eyes fixed on the prominent wound in her belly, her hand barely covering it. Growing irritated by the raspy voice of the janitor, she flicks her hand, silencing the elderly woman's chatter. The janitor's eyes lose their spark, becoming dull and lifeless, even though she's still breathing.

Limping her way out of the storage room, the injured woman curses under her breath. She loathes the fact that this puny descender caught her off guard, and she vows to ensure it never happens again. But for now, her priority is to get to Phanes. She needs to warn him that a greater threat is looming.

"Asmoday, don't you look terrible."

Disregarding her fellow shade, she attempts to walk past him, only to be halted by a hand on her shoulder. She hisses in pain and bats away Istaroth's hand, her golden eyes cautioning him not to mess with her, even in her weakened state. With an expression of utter disgust, he wipes the blood from his skin, staining his handkerchief, then meticulously inspects his nails for any lingering traces.

"Not that I give a shit, but you might want to consider changing styles. Let's be real here honey, red just ain't your thing."

Not in the mood to get caught up in her colleague's petty quarrel, she limps down the corridor, leaning on the wall for support and leaving gory and bloody marks in her wake. Hearing a snap of fingers, she grunts as she finds herself back next to Istaroth. Noticing the choke marks on his neck and the burnt skin causing his veins to protrude, Asmoday returns the animosity with a venomous retort.

"Have you seen yourself, asshole ? You look like shit that has been stepped on."

The shade dismisses her comment with a shrug as he gazes upward, the corridor lights flickering as if on the verge of fading completely.

"Well, that's what happens when you piss off our big guy upstairs."

Feeling a bit unsettled upon learning their master's sour mood, Asmoday glances at her fellow shade, puzzled about why he's acting like it's the best day of his life. It's been a while since she's seen him so genuinely joyful and carefree, almost seeming out of character. As he looks down at her while she coughs up a little blood, she can feel shivers going down her spine. A cheerful Istaroth is an unpredictable one.

But beyond fear, it unnerves her to see the typically grumpy god sporting such a crappy grin.

"Oh, please. You really thought he'd cut you some slack because you decided to wake up with a dick between your legs ?"

"And yet, you believe that playing the obedient lapdog will save your ass. I wonder who's the delusional one here."

As he peeks at one of the watches on his wrist, his smile tightens slightly. Confused about what he might be expecting, Asmoday's senses sharpen as the building begins to rumble. Glancing at her fellow shade, she realizes it's not just any ordinary earthquake.

"You didn't, you fucking pigeon."

Assuming a fighting stance, Asmoday grits her teeth to push through the pain as more blood seeps from her wound. It's solely due to her powers that she can still draw breath after losing so much fluids. Despite knowing she's not capable of defeating him in her current condition, even with his own bruises, she refuses to meet her end at the hands of a treacherous traitor like him.

"Oh, but I did. Though you're giving me too much credit. I simply distracted the infatuated fool with a threat he couldn't overlook."

The wounded shade struggles to comprehend why he would betray them after all this time. While she understands his disdain for Phanes and anything associated with him, and acknowledges that time holds no significance for him, she still wonders why he would sacrifice everything for you.

"Why go such lenght for them ? They're just a guide."

Istaroth's smile dims slightly as the lights in the corridor begin flickering once more. Glaring down at Asmoday, the shade shows no hesitation as he has already made his decision.

"You see, as for now, Phanes believes you're six feet under. Wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would we?"

With a snap of his fingers, Asmoday collapses to her knees, gradually turning to ashes with a betrayed look in her eyes. Brushing off the remaining dust from his pants, Istaroth hopes that she'll appreciate the scene reminiscent of Hiroshima back in 1945. He hadn't anticipated her survival after what that descender did to her, she's definitely tougher than she appears. Snapping out of his thoughts, he stumbles as the entire building trembles once more. Chuckling, he rejoices in your success.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　A little earlier　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Inspecting his bloodied weapon, Aether pays no heed to the bodies of the guards who attempted to halt him. Displeased with the fact that the weapon you blessed him with is dirtied by the blood of nobodies, he proceeds to meticulously clean it. Though not entirely satisfied with the results, he glances at the neon loosing their brightness. In the darkness, he assumes a fighting stance, prepared to slay anything in his path.

As the lights flicker back to life, none of the guards' bodies remain to the eye, only the slender figure of the man, seemingly waiting. The cold neons accentuate his thin face and well-nourished black hair flowing along his body. His silver eyes, almost devoid of color, scrutinize him up and down in a judgmental manner.

"You should not be here."

With chills coursing down his spine, Aether takes a step back and tightens his grip on his sword. With just one sentence, Aether realizes that he's facing something far greater than the shade he fought to reach this point. Even if Aether can feel he's at a disadvantage, he's not one to back down. Unfortunately for him, he fails to grasp that this man isn't merely annoyed by his presence in his domain. For he had become the target of all the primordial one's frustrations and anger, he should consider himself lucky he's still able to breathe.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

In the midst of preparing to strike, Aether is stunned by the sudden disappearance of his sword. Startled, he lifts his head to find the man's face mere inches from his own. With a defiant tilt of his head, Aether faces the towering man head-on. Swiftly reaching for a spare knife at his belt, he lunges forward with his weapon. Yet, he staggers forward as the blade slices through empty air, the man vanishing in a blink. Surveying his surroundings, Aether notices that all exits have vanished, leaving the room illuminated solely by a solitary neon light above. Alert, Aether startles as a cold whisper brushes against his ear, sending a shiver down the blond boy's spine.

"You could hurt yourself."

Glancing back, Aether takes a close look at the necklace adorned with a small jewel around his neck. Unable to shake the familiar feeling he gets from the man, he scrutinizes his features while searching for any apparent weakness.

"You remind me of someone."

The man scoffs, straightens his back, and puts some distance between him and Aether. While he kows that the descender is simply dragging out the conversation to buy time, Phanes decides to indulge him. Being quite picky about his conversational partners, he isn't normaly the type to engage in small talk with his enemies. However, he supposes he can make an exception for this one.

"Humph, do I ?"

Left with no more weapons to spare, Aether clenches his fists and attempts to think of a way to breach his opponent's defense. Sometimes, nothing works better than a little provocation.

"I know they're here. And I need to talk with them."

"Oh, you won't, not on my watch."

Aether charges towards the man, poised to strike him down. Just as he's about to land a blow, the man dissipates into black sand upon impact, causing the descender to tumble and fall to the floor. Confused as to why the tiles has transformed into the same sand the man turned into, the blond traveler is left in shock as the scenery completely changes. Emerging in a boundless black desert bathed in the light of three moons against a starless sky, he fights to regain his footing.

"How did it feel ?"

As the man's voice echoes through the air, Aether begins to panic, finding himself getting pulled into quicksand. Unfortunately, the more he struggles to escape, the further he sinks. The moons high in the sky appear to mock him, as if he's to blame for his predicament. Taking a final breath before being completely submerged, the descender has no time to react as he suddenly falls into what seems like an endless void. However, it isn't truly limitless as he swiftly touches the bottom, landing on his back.

"To be unwanted."

Gritting his teeth together at the pain, Aether refuses to give up and strengthens himself once again. Observing the new scenery, his eyes widen upon seeing you in the distance. With his first step, a crack forms at his foot and extends towards you. As he starts to run in your direction, shattering the stone-like floor like thin ice, you only move farther away, leaving him alone in this hellish environement.

"Not good, does it ?"

With the temperature rising, the floor finally gives up under his weight, causing him to fall once again. Using his broken wings to somewhat cushion his fall, he manages to land on his feet.

"I get it, you know. Out of all, I might be the one closest to understanding what you're going through."

Observing the fire ravage the lands around him, a strange itch stirs within him as he starts to recognize the scenery. It's an itch he cannot scratch, only indicating that something is wrong. As screams resonate, he remains paralyzed, unable to break down at the sight before him.

"Nowhere to call home."

He witnesses his sister weeping over thousands of corpses, her gut-wrenching screams breaking his heart. Before he can take a step in her direction and call out to her, her head unnaturally snaps 180 degrees. Under Lumine's hateful glare, he begins to notice the clammy sensation on his hands, his horror growing as he realizes they are smeared with blood. He shuts his eyes tightly and pounds his head repeatedly, desperately trying to convince himself that the man is merely toying with his mind.

"You know, it took me a while to discover what was going on."

Upon opening his eyes, Aether discovers that he is now bound to a chair, the furniture itself constricting his hands behind his back. Before him, Phanes lounges in a comfortable seat, casually playing with the shattered intertwining of fate that symbolized the connection between you and the renowned traveler. Upon realizing this, the descender struggles against his restraints. Yet, as he attempts to vocalize his desire to reclaim it, no sound escapes his mouth.

"They hid you well. However, once the secret was out, all they could do was to plead on your behalf, begging me to spare your life."

Seeing that his captive had much to express, Phanes impulsively snaps his fingers, only to regret it instantly as Aether unleashes a furious scream that pierces his ears.

"You're the reason they abandoned me- !!"

The primordial being hastily snaps his fingers once more, brushing his forehead to alleviate the headache induced by just one sentence. Truly, this descender possesses the ability to irritate him like no one ever has, and he considers himself a patient man. Disregarding the claims of the blonde traveler, he dismissively waves his hand, prompting the furnitures to move out of his way as he approaches Aether.

"No, no, no, no, I didn't do anything. You see, I merely allowed them to toy with you. Ultimately, it was solely their choice to discard you."

Watching Aether squinting his eyes, revealing his lack of faith in the god's words, Phanes laughs mockingly at the sight. It's pitiful to see the descender place so much trust in you, as if you could truly be concerned with his well-being. Despite the man's assertions, Aether believes there must be a valid reason why you had to leave him, which is why he is determined to find you. You wouldn't have casted him aside simply out of boredom, would you?

"There's much about guides that you seem unaware of... Quite surprising, considering where you come from."

Feeling the release of his restraints, Aether is abruptly pulled to his feet as the room is swept away by an unknown force. Upon opening his eyes after the wind dies down, he finds himself up in the sky, with floating pillars adorning the scenery. As the setting evokes memories of the place where he first engaged in combat with the sustainer of the heavenly principles, a bad chilling sensation runs down his spine as something seizes his shoulders.

"You're free to believe me or not, but I understand how difficult it is to live in someone's shadow. First, your sister, then, [Name]. Perhaps it's time for you to learn how to be yourself."

As the god takes a melancholic tone towards the end of his words, he snaps out of whatever memory he was recalling. Aether, still unable to move on his own, observes a door materializing out of nowhere before swinging open, emitting a bright flashing light.

"Whatever, who am I kidding ? You never learn from your mistakes."

Stepping aside, Phanes waves with a slight fake smile on his lips.

"Oh and, you might want to start running."

Glancing behind him, Aether witnesses the stone slabs breaking and tumbling down. Rising to his feet, he makes a run for it. With his wings shattered from his previous journey that was intended to be the final one, he can only rely on his legs to reach the door. Leaping through it, his consciousness fades away.

'Resetting complete'

...

{Words : 7387}

Heya, finally i managed to post part 2 ! Sorry to keep you all waiting. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did while writing this.

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@lilisette24

[wishluc]

can i request for something with yandere alhaitham x reader? feel free to go ham with everything else!

✧ CW: yandere character, blackmail, manipulation

✧ PAIRING: Alhaitham x GN! reader

✧ quick context; reader met alhaitham when they came some time ago to 'fix' Katheryne after complaints were made (about when Nahida had control over her)

Alhaitham had been expecting your return.

However, you probably hadn't thought he would be waiting, seeing that you had yet to seek him out yourself. Why were you still so reserved about reaching out to him? He remembers how your enthusiastic conversation had faltered when he mentioned his official position during your initial meeting...did that have anything to do with your timidity?

There was no point in waiting around his office any longer. After all, if you weren't coming, then he'd have to seek you out himself. Fortunately, he knew exactly where you'd be, busy at work.

He calls your name with an ease that came from hours of saying it to himself, "back already?"

You pause, putting down your torch to turn and look at him, your warm smile greeting him so familiari, "I hope my quick return doesn't make you think any less of Snezhnayan technology, Alhaitham."

"On the contrary," the corners of his lips twitch as he looks down at your crouched form, "I find their quick service quite remarkable. So, is this just a routine check-up?"

You sigh, before telling him all about the new barrage of anonymous complaints that's been flooding the headquarters; all about how Katheryne, again, had started to leave her post unattended for hours and spoke oddly. Unfortunately, you had been reprimanded for not doing a thorough job when you were here merely a month ago.

Alhaitham almost felt a tinge of guilt, knowing that he was to blame for that. But it dissipates almost immediately when you address him again.

"Did you notice her acting strange at all?"

He shrugs off your question, instead opting to flip through the book you brought along with you. It just happened to be the one he recommended to you during your last trip to Sumeru, and a smile almost did break through his neutral expression. He thumbed the little colored tabs sticking out of the top, making a mental note to thoroughly examine your annotations sometime. He'd prefer if you come to show him yourself, though. For a moment, he looks up from the pages, his eyes flitting between you and the Katheryne you were examining.

"So? Is there anything wrong?"

"Everything's right where it's supposed to be, and it doesn't look like anything's wrong," as you speak, you let yourself get busy with the familiar process of inspecting the inner workings of the bionic lifeform. Alhaitham watches over you with the same, unreadable expression as before, "I'll still have to stay for about a week to observe her and ensure that she's really in good working condition, just like the last time."

A week, you said? Alhaitham runs through his own schedule mentally, before deciding that it just wouldn't do. He had to put his plan into motion, at once.

Alhaitham watches from a distance, coffee in hand, as you approach the pieced-apart Katheryne. Under the morning sun rays, you're quite the mesmerizing sight, despite your frazzled state. You shift through the scattered remains before slowly standing up, clearly puzzled. A small crowd had begun to look over at where you stood, amongst the inner parts of the bionic puppet, and Alhaitham contemplated joining them. At the very least, he'd be able to talk to you.

That's when he notices you making your way out of the crowd and towards the winding pathway that lead up to the Akademiya. With a small smile, he tosses a few coins on the table and briskly makes his way to your destination, delighted at the prospect of seeing you again. Exhilarated that you were finally coming to him first.

One week would have been far too short a stay, anyways. After your first trip here, he realized he had to take things into his own hands if he wanted things to go anywhere. Cute as you were, you didn't seem to take to him as well as he'd hoped. With Katheryne in this state, you'd have to remain here for much longer than you initially planned, with all the work it'd take to wait for your supplies, put her back together, write up a report...and all of this so far was merely to extend your stay and buy him some time. He has other plans to completely ensnare you in his trap, involving manipulated footage and a concerned letter to your cooperation. Lucky him, too, that he had a house spacious enough for you to stay in when you inevitably would come asking him for help.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)