#emergent computation in physics

[in-sightjournal]

Ask A Genius 1284: The Conservation of Information in Quantum Mechanics and Cosmology

 Rick Rosner: In physics, there are many conservation laws or principles that are generally supported by experimental evidence. For example, energy is conserved, and momentum is conserved. The conservation of information is a more complex and debated topic, particularly in quantum mechanics and cosmology. While there are arguments that information is conserved in quantum mechanical systems—such…

[atomic-bobo]

Katie & Trip | Touch

[mariska]

listen. when fortnite does a fan-favorites style mortal kombat character collab and the majority of ur fortnite friends list buddies are around the same age as u and tend to enjoy a lot of the same media/character collabs that u do but this specific collab sadly did not include ur all-time fav MK character and actual MK game main (mileena. my love)

.... u work. with whatever remotely similar skins and accessories and emotes that you've got .

[dayofphylosophyorideology]

Universality

Universality is a profound and foundational concept in science and mathematics that describes the property by which systems with vastly different microscopic details exhibit the same macroscopic behavior. It is most prominently observed in the study of critical phenomena in statistical mechanics, but it also emerges across a wide range of disciplines, including condensed matter physics, dynamical systems, chaos theory, mathematics, computer science, and even certain branches of economics and biology. The notion of universality provides a framework for understanding how complex behavior can emerge from simpler rules and how such behavior can be characterized independently of specific details, relying instead on symmetries, dimensions, and collective properties.

The concept of universality originated in the mid-20th century, particularly in the context of phase transitions in statistical physics. Physicists observed that vastly different physical systems—such as magnets near the Curie point and fluids near the liquid-gas critical point—exhibited strikingly similar behavior near their respective critical points. This was paradoxical because the underlying microscopic interactions in these systems were entirely different.

The resolution of this paradox came with the development of the renormalization group (RG) theory, primarily by Kenneth Wilson in the 1970s. RG provided a rigorous framework to explain how systems at different scales could be related through scale transformations, and how certain large-scale behaviors are invariant under these transformations. Universality emerged naturally from this framework: systems that flow toward the same fixed point in the space of physical theories under RG transformations exhibit the same critical exponents and scaling laws, regardless of their microscopic details. This laid the foundation for a deep understanding of universality and marked a turning point in theoretical physics.

A central feature of universality is the classification of systems into universality classes. These are groups of systems that, despite differences in their microscopic structures or interactions, share the same set of critical exponents, scaling functions, and general behavior near criticality.

The primary determinants of universality classes are:

Dimensionality of the system – The number of spatial dimensions significantly affects the critical behavior of a system. For example, the Ising model in two dimensions has different critical exponents than in three dimensions.

Symmetry of the order parameter – The nature of the symmetry breaking involved in the phase transition plays a key role. The Ising model, with a discrete Z2 symmetry, belongs to a different universality class than models with continuous symmetries like O(N) (e.g., the XY and Heisenberg models).

Range of interactions – Systems with short-range interactions often belong to different universality classes than those with long-range interactions.

Conservation laws and dynamics – In dynamical systems, the conservation or non-conservation of order parameters (such as energy or magnetization) can define dynamic universality classes distinct from their static counterparts.

Examples of well-known universality classes include the Ising universality class (scalar order parameter with Z2 symmetry), the XY universality class (vector order parameter with U(1) symmetry), and the Heisenberg universality class (vector order parameter with SO(3) symmetry).

The renormalization group (RG) formalism is essential to the modern understanding of universality. It describes how physical systems behave under changes in scale, allowing for the systematic "coarse-graining" of microscopic details while retaining the large-scale features that determine macroscopic behavior.

The key idea in RG is that as one examines a system at increasingly larger scales, the effective parameters governing the system’s behavior flow under RG transformations. At critical points, these flows approach fixed points, which correspond to scale-invariant behavior. Systems that flow toward the same fixed point share universal properties—hence the emergence of universality.

In this context, critical exponents describe how physical quantities diverge near the critical point (e.g., specific heat, susceptibility, correlation length), and these exponents are determined by the properties of the RG fixed point, not the microscopic details of the system. For instance, the critical exponent β, which describes how the order parameter vanishes near the critical temperature, is the same for all systems in the same universality class.

While the concept of universality originated in statistical mechanics, its implications extend far beyond that domain.

1. Dynamical Systems and Chaos

In the study of deterministic chaos, universality appears in the context of bifurcation theory and the transition to chaos. One of the most striking examples is the Feigenbaum constants, which describe the rate of period-doubling bifurcations in one-dimensional maps such as the logistic map. Regardless of the specific form of the map, the ratio of intervals between bifurcations converges to the same universal constant (~4.669), and the scaling behavior near the onset of chaos follows universal laws. This indicates that the transition to chaos in wide classes of dynamical systems exhibits universal features.

2. Quantum Field Theory and High-Energy Physics

Universality is also a key idea in quantum field theory (QFT), where it helps explain why effective field theories at low energies can be described using a limited set of relevant operators, despite the potential complexity of high-energy (UV) theories. RG methods show that low-energy phenomena are governed by universality classes characterized by the relevant operators at an IR (infrared) fixed point.

In lattice gauge theories and studies of quantum critical points, universality informs the scaling behavior of observables near quantum phase transitions, which occur at absolute zero and are driven by quantum fluctuations rather than thermal ones.

3. Computer Science and Algorithmic Universality

In theoretical computer science, a different kind of universality appears in the concept of computational universality, particularly in Turing completeness. A computational system (e.g., a Turing machine or lambda calculus) is said to be universal if it can simulate any other computational system. This form of universality is foundational to the theory of computation and underlies the universality of general-purpose computers.

Cellular automata also exhibit universality. For example, Conway’s Game of Life is computationally universal, meaning that it can simulate a Turing machine despite its simple local rules.

4. Percolation, Fractals, and Geometry

Percolation theory provides another domain where universality emerges. Near the percolation threshold, properties like the size of connected clusters exhibit power-law distributions characterized by universal critical exponents. These exponents depend only on the dimensionality of the system and not on the microscopic details of the lattice or geometry.

Fractals, which exhibit self-similarity and non-integer dimensions, are also associated with universality. The fractal dimensions of certain critical clusters (e.g., in percolation or the Ising model) are universal and can be related to the scaling laws governing the system.

Although more speculative and less rigorously defined, analogs of universality have been proposed in biological and economic systems. For example, scaling laws in biological systems—such as the relation between metabolic rate and body mass (e.g., Kleiber’s law)—exhibit regular patterns across a vast range of organisms. Similarly, certain macroeconomic behaviors, such as power-law distributions in wealth and income or the scaling of urban infrastructure with population size, have been argued to reflect universal principles.

However, unlike in physics, the presence of complex, adaptive agents and feedback loops in these systems complicates the identification of precise universality classes or fixed points. Nonetheless, attempts to apply statistical physics and RG-like methods in these fields continue to be active areas of interdisciplinary research.

Universality in a formal mathematical sense often involves invariance under group actions, limit theorems, or fixed-point theory. For example:

Central Limit Theorem: One of the simplest manifestations of universality in probability theory. It states that the distribution of the sum of many independent random variables tends toward a Gaussian distribution, regardless of the underlying distribution, provided the variance is finite.

Random Matrix Theory: In the study of eigenvalues of large random matrices, universality appears in the distribution of spacing between eigenvalues, such as the Wigner-Dyson distribution. These distributions are universal across broad classes of ensembles, including those modeling nuclei, disordered systems, and even zeros of the Riemann zeta function.

Scaling Limits and Universality in Stochastic Processes: Brownian motion, the scaling limit of many discrete random walks, provides a classical example. Similarly, the Kardar-Parisi-Zhang (KPZ) universality class encompasses a wide range of stochastic growth models that, despite different dynamics, share the same large-scale statistical properties.

Universality challenges reductionist viewpoints by emphasizing that many macroscopic behaviors are insensitive to microscopic details. This has profound implications for how scientists model and understand complex systems. Rather than focusing on the exact microscopic state of a system, one can study representative models that capture the relevant symmetries and conservation laws to extract universal predictions.

It also exemplifies the power of abstraction and the importance of symmetry and scaling in nature. The idea that fundamentally different systems can exhibit identical critical behavior suggests that there are deep organizing principles underlying complex phenomena.

Furthermore, the concept has epistemological significance, influencing how knowledge is structured and how laws of nature are interpreted. It bridges the gap between the particular and the general, providing a unifying framework for diverse phenomena.

Universality is a cornerstone of modern science, offering a window into the fundamental structure of complex systems. From phase transitions and critical phenomena to dynamical chaos, quantum fields, algorithmic computation, and beyond, universality reveals the deep and often surprising regularities that transcend specific details. Its discovery and formalization represent one of the most profound insights in 20th-century physics, with ongoing implications for a broad range of disciplines in the 21st century. As science progresses, the principle of universality continues to guide our understanding of emergent behavior, scale invariance, and the interconnectedness of nature.

[karmatetra]

Consciousness Discussion: Hopfield's 2024 Nobel Prize in Physics

John Hopfield’s Nobel Prize in Physics was awarded in 2024 for his foundational contributions to machine learning and AI. This is the first time a Nobel Prize has been awarded to AI and machine learning. Hopfield’s work is closely related to his following statement on the mind-brain relationship, “How mind emerges from brain is to me the deepest question posed by our humanity.” ~John J.…

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[jcmarchi]

Team Improves Performance of Quantum Computers - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/team-improves-performance-of-quantum-computers-technology-org/

Team Improves Performance of Quantum Computers - Technology Org

By looking to create quieter environments, a team that includes Nebraska Engineering researcher Abdelghani Laraoui hopes to take a bit of the “noise” out of quantum computing and help make the emerging technology more efficient, accessible and feasible.

Ben Hammons, a freshman in electrical engineering, and Abdelghani Laraoui, assistant professor in mechanical and materials engineering, work on laser equipment. Image credit: UNL

The goal is to find materials that show potential for improving the performance of quantum computers and that can be utilized to control the disruptions — also known as decoherence (or noise) — that keep these superfast computers from performing at their best.

“Quantum computers can do calculations in two minutes that would take 10,000 years if you used a classical system, but right now, they are difficult to scale up (for wider use) because they have to exist in very low-temperature environments, and that is very expensive to create,” said Laraoui, assistant professor of mechanical and materials engineering.

Laraoui is collaborating with Wichita State University researchers — physicist Kapildep Ambal and chemist Jian Wang — on a three-year, $800,000 Track 1 award from the National Science Foundation’s Expand Capacity in Quantum Information Science and Engineering (ExpandQISE) program.

This track pairs researchers, such as Laraoui, who have extensive QISE experience with individual researchers, such as Ambal and Wang, from institutions that have less expertise in advanced nanofabrication of quantum materials and cryogenic quantum sensing.

Unlike classic computing systems, quantum computers have no memory or processors, but instead use superconductive subatomic qubits, which store and process information and are ideal for higher-level tasks — such as running simulations and analyzing data — with superfast speed and precision.

But, Laraoui said, quantum computers often need an extremely cold environment around 10 mK (equivalent to -459 Fahrenheit) to perform well with lower error rates.

“The technology for cooling is difficult to find and is very expensive,” Laraoui said. “There’s only a few places that can do it.”

To overcome the need for a super cold environment, Laraoui said the research team is looking for new quantum materials where the quantum coherence is preserved even at higher temperatures (above 2 degrees Kelvin, roughly -456 Fahrenheit).

The Nebraska Center for Materials and Nanoscience, with funding help from another NSF grant on which Laraoui was a co-investigator, will soon receive a cryogenic scanning probe microscope with quantum sensing capabilities that can operate at temperature down to 1.8 K (roughly -456.4 Fahrenheit).

In Laraoui’s Quantum Sensing and Defect Discovery and Spectroscopy Lab, mechanical engineering graduate student Rupak Timalsina and first-year electrical engineering student Ben Hammons built another cryogenic optical microscope through which researchers can witness how the qubits in diamond substrates perform under the presence of other materials in contact.

Funding for this, in part, included support from NSF Emergent Quantum Materials and Technologies Center the university has received, where Laraoui serves as a thrust 2 leader on quantum technologies.

Adding qubits would increase the capacity of a quantum computer, Laraoui said, much like how classic computers can perform more complex tasks when more bits added.

However, Laraoui said, the challenge in creating a larger network of qubits is that quantum systems are fragile and “the slightest amount of decoherence can keep them from performing well.” It’s similar to how a soap bubble pops when it touches another object, loses its unique characteristics and returns to a drop of liquid.

Laraoui’s team is seeking more robust materials such as ultrathin magnetic films and two-dimensional magnetic materials and will try to use them to control spin qubits in diamond at longer distances that can work at higher temperatures.

“The idea is that we can use them to make a hybrid system that contains these spin qubits with elements of a classical system,” Laraoui said. “With hybrid architectures, like a diamond substrate, you couple them with spin waves (magnons) that have certain excitations specific to certain materials.

“The longer coherence time will lead to operating quantum computers in less challenging environments, and that could be a breakthrough that can make them less expensive and more available for wider uses.”

Source: University of Nebraska-Lincoln

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[goorgeousz]

hotchelle | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader summary: you have a furry emergency, and it’s up to your knight in shining armor — a vest and a government gun — of a husband to save you. content/tw: this is so unserious, dog being abandoned, aaron being completely whipped for his wife, just fluff! word count: 1.8ka/n: don’t mind me, i’m just (once again) spreading the “yes ma’am” Aaron agenda. reqs are open! hope you like it 💗🪽

masterlist <3

drabbles masterlist <3

more of "yes ma’am” Aaron

Even though he spent most of his life dealing with tragedies and loss, Aaron was never ready for it. No amount of experience seemed to prepare him for the feeling of fear.

So, although he was most used to receiving bad news when his phone rang, his heart immediately gave out when he answered your call.

“Hey, hon…”

“Aaron,” your rasped voice cried, sobs cutting through you and interrupting whatever you wanted to say.

“Honey, where are you?” he urged, immediately pushing his chair back and sprinting out of his office, not even bothering to button up his suit.

You cried louder, sniffing hard and trying to get the words out.

“I– I was hi-hiking.” he tried not to rush you, instead just sprinting into Garcia’s office.

“Yeah? On your usual track?”

He opened her door without knocking, startling the blonde woman and Reid, who sat beside her probably analysing some case he had been consulting.

Sensing the urge on their boss’ face, they didn’t waste a second before turning to him and getting ready to help in any way possible.

“Y-yeah. Signal is really bad,” you managed, and the way you hiccuped trying to steady your breathing made his heart physically ache.

“I’m coming. Do we need an ambulance? Or…”

“No! No, it’s not me… Aaron, please hurry, I’m…” before you could get any word out the phone went mute, and a few seconds later trying to reconnect the call, it ended.

“Garcia, can you trace her phone?” he asked, trying to seem less desperate than he actually felt. It didn’t work.

“Of course, sir.” she answered, already midway into finding his wife’s location. In a matter of seconds, the map on the screen’s computer glowed with a red pin, and a banner with her exact coordinates popped up. “Here, just sent it to your phone.”

He thanked her before turning around, Reid barely catching up with his pace. “I’ll come with you, sir.” to which he just nodded. He didn’t actually agree to it, neither seemed particularly happy about it, but he didn’t say no and the look on his face showed there wasn’t much on his mind except for the urge to find you.

Luckily it wasn’t rush hour, so they didn’t end up getting any speed tickets – the fact that he turned on the sirens at points where the traffic was a little heavier had nothing to do with it, trust –, and as soon as they got near the point Garcia instructed, they spotted her.

Sat on the ground on the side of the road, slightly off the tracking path, his wife’s baby pink clothes stood out on the grass as if she was a waking highlight. Hotch didn’t waste any time on parallel parking, throwing the car on park as soon all four tires stepped off the highway, and stepping out of it in a second, reaching for his gun, with Spencer mimicking his moves.

“Honey, we’re here.” he said loudly, trying to ease her shaking figure before he even got to her. She wiped her head back, and even though her face was red, puffy and drenched in tears, her eyes sparkled with recognition and relief, like she felt that everything was going to be okay: Aaron was there! The feeling almost made him combust.

“Aaron,” your voice whined, and then you started crying again, louder this time, relieved to not be alone anymore. Quickly scanning the area and guaranteeing there weren't any threats nearby, the two – guns still in hand – agents stepped close to her, still sitting on the floor.

As soon as they reach her, standing on each of her sides, they stop for a second. Aaron physically had to restrain himself from sighing loudly because you were about to have a stroke due to how hard you were crying, while Spencer had to bite the inside of his cheeks until blood was drawn out to stop himself from laughing.

Just in front of you, laid on the dirty floor was a puppy, it’s furr so dirty you could barely see it’s color. The dog showed no signs of being awake, and Aaron felt a little sting with the realization. The dog was dead. He just wished you’d told him sooner.

“I don’t know if she’s dead.” you managed between sobs, catching your husband’s glance “I saw a box on the hike with a note saying the family’s dog birthed her, they were moving across the country and couldn’t bring the puppy with them. She’s the only puppy who made it alive. I think she escaped of the box, trying to find someone. That’s how she got here.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “Reid, tell Garcia we’re fine.” he demanded, sending his agent a pointed look at his amused expression. Spencer nodded, stepping back for a second to text his friend, taking the opportunity to silently laugh.

Then, he put away the gun, kneeling down beside you, placing his hand on your shoulder and looking at the animal. You took it as a sign, and buried your face into your husband’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. His heart nearly gave out at how heartbroken you were, and all annoyance disappeared on his body just like that.

“Oh, Aaron, I’m sorry. I know you were busy. But… I just needed you, and I…”

“Shh, it’s okay. There’s no problem, at all.” he coached you, fully sitting down beside you and taking you fully in his arms. He meant it: emergency or not, there’s nowhere he would rather be than by your side to stroke your hair and kiss your forehead until you stopped crying.

“Can I see her?” Reid asked politely, crouching down beside you and curiously staring at the puppy. He, surprisingly, touched the dog without any gloves on, not waiting for an answer to actually start checking. Only a couple minutes had passed when he stood up “She’s alive, but barely. We should get her to a vet now.”

You nodd, sniffing and quickly coming to a standing position, the urge to help temporarily occupying your mind enough for you to stop crying, taking off your defined jacket and turning into a makeshift blanket, and wrapping around the puppy carefully.

The ride for the vet was quick, with Reid sharing his thoughts – even though his knowledge concerning puppies was rather short – and Hotch, once again, barely missing speed tickets.

“Reid, take the car back.” he sighed, handing the agent his keys. Spencer, for what felt like the hundredth time in the last minutes, stifled a laugh “I’ll stay here with her”.

When Hotch caught up with you, you were already at the reception of the vet ER – yes, they had those –, bawling your eyes out. One of the vets took the dog off your arms, handing your jacket back. You strode beside the team, giving them all the information you had so far.

“I think she spent the night. Her box was still wet, and it rained last night. Is she going to be okay?” you urged, eyes widening at the vet’s expression.

“Miss, you’ll have to wait outside okay? Thank you for your help.” he said, and they closed themselves into a consulting room, leaving you stuck on your feet.

Hotch touched your back, the feeling of his finger on your skin waking you from your trance. You turned abruptly to face him, and a kick on his gut would’ve hurt less – which he knew for a fact – than the sigh of your lower lip trembling, your eyes widened and red, filled with tears “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” he managed, and he hated how powerless he felt. So he just tugged you closer, hugging you closely and letting you cry.

“How can someone do that?” you said, angrily. Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his suit.

“I know, right? But she’s strong. Did you see how she lasted the whole night out there and still made it? She will be just fine.”

That made you step back, your eyes a little more hopeful as you looked at him. He loved that you believed him so much, and even though he had no way of knowing how this would turn out, he knew there was only one thing he could do.

“You think so?” 

“Absolutely.” he said, and that made a little smile tug at your lips. “Come on, let’s sit while we wait, huh?”

A couple hours had passed, with you pressed close to Hotch’s side, occasionally moving to play with a dog and hear other people’s stories. When you finally stopped crying, he stood and left a kiss on your forehead, leaving to get some food. Because you expected to be home way sooner, you haven’t eaten, and he was sure that if you didn’t get anything on your system, his next stop would be the actual ER, since you’ve probably cried out all 70% of the water on your system.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When he came back, two bags of lunch from the diner across the street, water and orange juice enough for the whole vet crew, he was surprised to see you surrounded with people. The other dog owners sat around you in the waiting room, listening closely to the story about how you found the puppy. You could be telling a fairy tale, the way their eyes shone with interest, gasping and cooing as on command. 

But what caught Hotch’s attention the most was the way the guy next to you – who definitely wasn’t there before he left – touched your bare knee with sympathetic – and honestly hungry – eyes. “You’re so brave and kind,...” the bastard said.

“And married.” he stepped closely, eyeing the man down with his stare reserved solely to the unsubs and particularly unpleasant officers he used to deal with.

“Oh, Aaron, you’re back!” you turned to face him, face glowing with that adorable smile of yours, looking at him with so much love that his scowl instantly melted. He barely noticed the guy standing up awkwardly and finding another sit all the way across the waiting room.

You ate together, with your husband making sure you drank enough fluids for a week, his attentive gaze not leaving your figure until there was nothing left on the paper bags but crumbs. As you were negotiating a sweet treat, a woman with a clipboard and a paw-patterned scrub emerged from the back of the ER seccion “Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner?”

Any thoughts about cookies or brownies being indispensable to raise your sugar levels vanished immediately as you rose to your feet in a speed that left Aaron’s spine jealous, and the two of you followed her closely, your husband’s hand rested on your lower back, now covered with the fabric of his suit – since you decided that the jacket you used to wrap the dirty dog in was now your own personal blankie – tracing patterns as you walked to the room.

When you finally got there, the little puppy was finally awake. Still completely dirty and somehow smaller than she looked when you found her, but fully alert “Hey, you pretty little girl. Oh, look, Aaron. Her eyes are just like yours.” you cooed, and this time he couldn’t control the roll of his eyes. He knew what you were doing. Trying to cute-guilt him into taking the damn dog. So what if the color of the puppy’s eyes was the exact shade of brown of his own? If Reid was there – and he made a mental note to call him later to check the information – he would agree that probably over 70% of the people on earth have brown eyes. Following that logic, the dog has the same eyes as 70% of the world’s population. Somehow that thought didn’t sit right with him, though.

“Is the dog okay?” he asked the vet, just wanting to get this over with. The woman nodded, her knowing smile too suspicious for his liking.

“She’s perfectly fine. She was a bit dehydrated, but I guess her previous owners left her with a little bit of food. We just took a few tests, but everything is normal. Her blood test results will take a few days, though.”

“But do you think she will be fine? Like, on the tests?” you asked, stroking the back of the dog’s ears with your fingers.

“Absolutely. But that’s all thanks to you. If you hadn't found her, I don’t think she would’ve made it.” 

You turn to Hotch with a little pout and tears in your eyes – of happiness this time, thankfully – and just like that you won another piece of his heart. But he keept it to himself, just raising his eyebrows at you, unbothered.

“We’ll just examine her now. Routine things. When the blood test comes out we’ll see for sure what vaccines she already has, but she’s 10 weeks old, so probably a few.” the vet explains while reaching the puppies belly with a stethoscope to check her heartbeat. “All good. She’s strong as a rock.” the woman keeps explaining each step of the examination, and at every new information you turn to look at Hotch, your eyes glowing with affection. The puppy, as if it senses your little show and wants to back you up, just behaves, her tail wagging everytime you or the vet talk to her with that high pitch voice, her big brown eyes staring at both of you as if you are her whole world. And he so stubbornly pretends he’s not melting as much as you.

“Now, we’ll take her temperature. This is the worst part of the exam, but just because it’s a bit uncomfortable.”

“She’s shaking, do you think she has a fever?” you ask, the worry on your tone not going unnoticed.

“Probably just fear. I don’t think she has a fever, but we’ll only know for sure by taking the temperature. Do any of you want to hold her or do you want me to call someone?” she asks, eyeing the two of you expectantly. Obviously, you dismiss the later option, moving your hands closer to the puppy. As the vet leans forward with the thermometer in hand, the dog does the unthinkable.

Awkwardly and clumsy running away from your and the vet’s reach, she goes into Hotch’s direction, and he has to step forward and grab her to prevent her from falling out of the table “Are you crazy?” he asks, not even realizing he was talking to the dog, staring annoyed at her. When he tries to place her back on the table, she whines, pressing her little paws higher on his arms, and he has to juggle her back safely to keep her from falling again “Jesus Christ, okay. I’ve got you.”

Aaron misses the way you and the vet eye each other in conspiracy, too busy making sure she’s comfortably nested on his arms “Oh, look. She stopped shaking. Hold her tight so I can check her temperature, will you?” the vet says, stepping closer and – as he will later describe – shoving the thermometer up on the puppy’s ass – which was actually very gentle and professional, but scared him anyway. “Oh, look at that. Not a fever. Your baby is perfectly healthy. Oh, wait.” the vet stops on her tracks, glancing back and forth between you and Hotch and asks the oh, so feared question “You are going to keep her?”

In an oscar-worth performance, you wiped your head to face him, pressing your hands, half-covered by the sleeves of his suit, on his bicep – carefully not to disturb the baby resting on his arms –, batting your eyelashes at him and staring with your eyes slightly opened, in those lost puppy eyes you mastered so well.

“Can we keep her? Please!” he sighed, not even daring to avert his eyes down to the dog he held, knowing damn well it would be a lost battle for him.

“Listen, I…” you interrupted, pointing at the small figure on his arms, forcing him to look at it.

“She’s already attached, baby. We can even name her after you!” you offered, your face deep in thought as you stared at the puppy’s eyes, as if trying to read its mind “Hotchelle!”

Aaron scrunched his nose, averting his torso to the side, as if putting some distance between you and the puppy would protect her from the name you’ve chosen.

“We’re not naming her Hotchelle.”

You crossed your arms, arching your brows “What are we naming her, then?” he then looked at the dog, still too dirty for either of you to see her real color.

“Maybe after we get her cleaned we can…”

Realization washed over him.

You stood there, the image of innocence, your eyes mischievous and expectant. If it weren’t the slight twitch at the corner of your lips, one could think you didn’t already know you had him wrapped around your finger.

So, he just sighed, looking briefly at the – his – puppy, and he could swear she had the same smug expression as yours.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After a well deserved shower gifted by the clinic – and many dollars spent at the pet shop wing at the clinic while you waited – the two – three – of you walked out together. You, holding some of the purchase’s bag, still wearing his suit jacket. Aaron, holding a freshly showered Hotchelle, wrapped around her brand new fluffy pink blanket, wearing two matching bows like a doll – while shopping you asked him if he thought Hotchelle was ‘more of a bow or pompom kinda girl’, to which he huffed an annoyed ‘bow, obviously’ – and the scowl he usually had on was much less prominent.

As soon as you stepped out of the clinic, the sun having already set, a flashlight temporarily blinded you. Blinking in surprise, your sight started to clear. It was a picture. And you couldn’t stop your laughter when you saw all the members of the BAU standing in the parking lot, matching amused smiles watching Aaron.

“We came to drop your car off.” Emily explained, her own laughter barely stiffed. Hotch sighed loudly.

“Thanks.” he muttered between gritted teeth “You can all go now.”

“Hm, I don’t think so, Hotch.” Rossi managed “We all want to meet the new addition to the family. We were kept in suspense since Reid told us what happened” Spencer had the decency to seem embarrassed, scratching the back of his head and blushing under Aaron’s disapproval stare.

Having restrained herself for long enough for the sake of the joke, Penelope threw herself in front of her boss, asking for you the whole rescue story. While at it, you catched the way Hotch stiffened his arms whenever Garcia tried to pry the baby to her own arms. Mercesly, you kept it to yourself.

“She’s still very young. 10 weeks.” he stated, glancing at Reid.

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer started, stepping closer with the other members, all cooing at how cute she looked. Specially contrasted with Aaron's broad figure – that earned Morgan another pack of photos, which you eagerly asked, for…. scientific purposes. “I did some research, and it turned out this specific breed is extremely affectionate due to….”

“Wait. Before we start the lecture” JJ pried, looking at Spencer apologetically “What’s her name?”

The tip of Hotch’s ears turned bright red, and the team glanced at each other. Sensing that your husband wasn’t going to answer, you stepped in, a bright smile in response “We named her after Aaron. Since she’s a daddy’s girl. Just like her mommy.” you winked at him, making him cringe. If both of his arms weren’t already busy, you were sure he would’ve been pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Don’t… say this…” he pleaded weakly.

“It can’t be that bad.” Morgan tried, his grin suggesting he thought otherwise.

“Hotchelle.” your husband said under his breath, earning many loud reactions in return. He just turned on his heel, getting the car keys from Emily’s hand and looking back at you “We're leaving.”

You were almost skipping on your way to his car, nestling the dog in your arms and showing her to the team like a trophy, who stood back laughing. Before getting into the driver’s seat, Aaron glanced back at them.

“Reid.” he commanded, his voice strong and stern like a thunder. Even from the distance, you could see Spencer gulping, bracing himself for the scold he was about to get. In a much lighter tone and with a smirk — he always had fun scaring his teammates — he said “I want to hear about your research tomorrow.”

taglist: all hotch @winyourheartemma all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream

[nougatbit]

students can be so great. last week i showed the class i was teaching a map that was drawn before satelites etc. existed and they wanted to know how people could have known the shape of the continents without seeing them "from the outside" and i had to explain to some 18 year olds that in the past people were able to make sketches and measurements of the coastlines they saw from their boats and later use instruments like sextants (and clocks) to measure their position on the globe very precisely

[twinterrors29]

what if Owen Lars wasn't lying about Obi-Wan Kenobi having died a long time ago during A New Hope

the 'Old Ben Kenobi' that Luke finds out in the desert is a strange man, with dark skin and a faded scar curled around his left eye

the man protests that he's not Obi-Wan Kenobi, although he is Kenobi, but Artoo seems to recognize him nonetheless and shows them the full message from the Princess

Kenobi, of course, accepts her mission, and explains to Luke that he is holding his father's lightsaber for him and offers to teach him about the ways of the Jedi

he readily agrees to drop Luke back off with the Larses on his insistence though

after the tragedy of the Lars homestead is revealed and they make their way through the drama of hiring Captain Solo, Kenobi gets to work on Luke's Jedi training, which mostly seems to consist of Luke trying to dodge or block random stunners throughout the trip and intense physical training (Luke didn't realize he had some of those muscles in his legs)

eventually, they exit hyperspace in the remains of Alderaan, where the Death Star remains hovering in the now-empty black

they hide from the scanners and sneak off the ship and into the control room, where Kenobi decides to sneak off to disable the tractor beam while Luke waits with the ship (and eventually manages to convince Han and Chewie to help him rescue Leia)

while Kenobi is sneaking around the station, Darth Vader unfortunately notices a familiar presence...one he hasn't felt in some time...he thinks it might be Obi-Wan Kenobi, but it's faint...

Vader, of course, immediately sets out to track Kenobi down, and finding an old man wearing a brown cloak with a deep hood pulled over his face, wielding a familiar lightsaber, makes a few assumptions

Cody Kenobi, widow of the deceased Obi-Wan Kenobi, lets him make those assumptions for long enough to see Luke, Han, Chewbacca, and the rescued Leia sneak back onto the Falcon out of the corner of his eye

then, after a dramatic pause, he burst into motion with a jetpack-assisted round house kick to Vader's face, allowing him to make his escape to the ship

they make their daring escape back to the rebel base on Yavin, and Luke prepares to join the pilots targeting the Death Star's weakness; when he hears a faint but somehow familiar voice urging him to trust in the Force rather than the targeting computer, he decides to trust it, and his choice is immediately supported by Kenobi back at the base

once the celebrations have died down, Luke tracks Kenobi down again, and they get ready to continue his training

once Cody is satisfied with Luke's level of physical fitness and willingness to trust the Force (and after a quiet conversation with Leia about what she wanted to do), he flies himself and Luke out to Dagobah, where his husband told him to bring the boy for Jedi training with Master Yoda

Yoda is grudgingly impressed with Luke's ability to hold handstands, but is more focused on his sidequest to catch Cody off guard and smack him in the shins (he does not succeed)

they leave every so often to go on missions for the Rebellion, frequently teaming up with Leia and Han, but always sneaking back to Dagobah after a short period of socialization

several years into this pattern, Luke has a vision of his friends in danger on Bespin, and insists on going to rescue them despite both Cody and Yoda urging him to stay

Cody, however, grudgingly decides to go back into the field with Luke to help Leia and Chewie (and Han. he guesses.)

Luke runs off to confront Vader, despite being advised not to, and opens their fight with a Force-enhanced round house kick to Vader's face

(Vader is experiencing war-like flashbacks, but manages to rally enough to finish that confrontation)

Cody, meanwhile, got wind that Boba was here and snuck into his ship

the moment Boba reenters the ship and starts preparing for takeoff, Cody emerges and hijacks the ship by way of an ori'vod'ika headlock, regrettably rescuing Luke and Leia's bad influence friend/crush

once Luke is out of surgery on Home-1, he finds Cody and demands answers about his parentage

Cody tells a brief version of what happened with his parents, and with Obi-Wan, and how that led to the present set of conditions

when Luke demands to know why Cody didn't tell him that from the start, Cody asks him why he thinks that Cody didn't teach him the Force-enhanced round house kick during their first training session

Luke admits that he wasn't ready to learn that, or to learn about Vader, but then insists that he needed to know before facing Vader again

Cody reasonably responds that there was no way he, Cody, could have known that Vader was going to be on Bespin, and that if Luke knew and didn't share that intel that was certainly not Cody's fault

and did Cody mention that he also tried to convince Luke not to go in the first place?

Cody ends the conversation by telling Luke that he can do whatever he wants with this new information about his relationship with Vader, but that it's his responsibility as a Jedi to weigh the consequences carefully

Luke sometimes wishes that his mentor wasn't so implacably rational

months later, after the second Death Star is destroyed during the Battle of Endor, Luke watches Cody sit down on a bench some distance from the celebration, only to be joined by a transparent blue figure, who laces their fingers together

the Force ghost meets Luke's eyes and smiles sadly, gesturing for him to return to the celebration

when Luke goes to find Cody in the morning, he finds the man still in the exact same position on that bench, eyes closed and with a soft smile on his face

[higherhell]

Lads...I have done it again... (unintended hiatus)

[foone]

There exist another dimension called The Empty World. It's very much like ours, in fact it seems to have been identical up until a few weeks ago, but it always seems that way. If you go there today, it was identical in late february, and if you go there this october, it'll have been identical until september.

It's empty, as you might guess. There's no humans, and no animals bigger than a cockroach. The sky is grey, and it slowly rains ash. It's colder than our world by a bit, enough to require a jacket even in summer. The streets are empty, the cars parked neatly in their garages or in lots, but they're all empty and abandoned, their doors locked like they expect their owners to return any minute now.

The newspapers left on stands don't mention any oncoming disaster. We have no idea what the TV or internet would have said: the power is out. The power is very, very out. Not just the grid, but batteries are drained. The cars won't start, the emergency lights are out, and anything with solar panels seems to be getting less energy than you'd expect, even with the perpetually overcast sky.

It's a very silent world, like the calm after a snowstorm. Sounds don't seem to echo as much as they should, nor does sound seem to travel as far. The radio spectrum is empty except for static, there's no one transmitting on any frequency.

There's fewer fires than you'd expect. Even places you'd expect to soon catch fire without human intervention are still standing, undamaged. Campfires can be lit but with difficulty: something is keeping them from burning as they should. Even if you pour kerosene on a campfire it'll barely grow, it's like something sucked the energy out of everything.

All the locked buildings are still locked. Alarms don't sound if you break in (understandable, given the power situation), and of course no one comes to investigate. So The Empty World is your oyster: you can break in wherever you want (provided you can physically do it: some doors are pretty hard to pry open even with tools), take whatever you want, and bring it back here.

Everything resets when you leave. You always enter The Empty World like it's your first time there, like this just happened and you're late to the party... but the party keeps getting rescheduled. You can even take something multiple times if you want.

When you enter The Empty World you get there at the same relative position as you are on this world. If you're in New York, you show up in the empty New York. If you're in Topeka, you show up in empty Topeka. So you have to travel around this world to get to where you want, and you can't just appear in the middle of a bank vault... unless you break into the vault from this world. (So it's great if you work at a bank and want to steal from your employer without repercussions, but not so useful otherwise).

You don't just have to take things, you know. You can take computers and files and books and diaries. You will have to deal with recharging laptops and breaking through any security when you get back, but it's doable.

So, imagine you've just gotten access to The Empty World. What are you going to do with it? What will you take, and where will you go?

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

He comes in droves, hoards of himself, brokenhearted and wanting, wrecking cities for a chance to get one last glance at you. You're different, more than all of them expected. It's saddening for some, boner inducing for others. [Invincible Variants x reader]

 Tw: Suicide, drug use

[Part one] [3] [Ao3] [View Full Piece Here - It's mine!]

2 * RX Only [6.7k]

"While my queendom crumbles around me,

I'm fucking stuck here sucking this cock,

I'll kill myself right here on stage,

And it's gonna fucking rock!"

I Win - Go Hang Music

      Blood, guts, and sulfur, but no demons rising from the ground. Just a man in the night, backlit by the burning Sydney Opera House. Watching the blinking dot on his wrist cuff disappear. He holds his breath. Horrified. She was an illusion. A trick of a grief addled brain.

        The screen automatically zooms out, showing a pixelated view of the northern hemisphere of the planet. The dot reappears in North America. Numbers flash in the left corner of his blue tinted vision. When he first saw his alternates, he thought they'd have the same upgrades. Super computers laced into the fabric of their suits. Considering how stupid they were acting and how one of them asked where Mount Rushmore was- they likely didn't.

        He rises, scanning the numbers one last time, burning them to memory before minimizing them. Your coordinates and vitals, both monitored by the cuff. Perfectly healthy, alarmed, scared shitless probably, but healthy. Alive. 

        The breath he held lets go.

        Eyes scan over Sydney one last time. Before he left, he had to ensure his end of the deal was complete. Be absolutely sure Angstrom wouldn't be displeased and send him back to where he'd came from. Sure, he hadn't expected to see (Y/n) here, so soon, he wasn't really done with Sydney. He could level the place if he wanted. Angstrom would approve, but Angstrom's approval didn't matter. All that mattered was bringing you home.          Still, he searches for loose threads. Just in case.         The machinery in his suit quietly whirs. He sees no survivors. Not with the rubble and fire. But his goggles lock onto the outline of forms in neon green, hiding behind a slab of rubble where he couldn't see.          He's there in a blink. Stood at the one and only entrance of the little hovel the family had decided to hide in. Only one of them lives long enough to scream.          There, done. Now he could-         His lenses lock onto another hidden form. Then another and another. He sighs. Head turning to the floating ball beside him. Angstrom's drone making sure he was doing what he was supposed to. Five minutes, he told himself, five minutes to kill all these fucking people and be done with this place. It wasn't like he was going to lose track of (Y/n).         He rose, up, up, up. More and more forms catching in the lens. He pushed a hidden button on the side of his lenses. A tiny segmented timer started in the left corner of his view. Five minutes, on the clock.         ***         "You're fucking kidding me." First the apartment, now CVS Pharmacy.          You stood in the parking lot, breathing in acrid smoke. Looking at the building that was your personal emergency room for the last five years. That mohawked shapeshifting asshole must have rammed right through the place at some point. Bringing the red roof down on most of the building. 

        Physically, you were fine but there was something you desperately needed from under that crumbled roof. Especially since you were now suddenly living through the end of the world.         The automatic glass doors were crushed under concrete but a massive hole, probably where he flew through, was a perfectly fine entrance into the rubble. You stepped carefully over rebar and the body of a cashier. There was no more inside, just parts where the roof didn't cave in all the way, and you were standing in the biggest one. Shelves tipped, chip bags popped open on the carpet floor.          You find yourself meandering into the two upright fractions of aisles in front of you, the store so unrecognizable you felt lost. Caligula laid across your shoulders, over the crook of your neck like a scarf. Gray nose gently twitching at the smell of corpses. There were more in the aisle that was for foot cream. One man bisected by a chunk of roof. One lady who lay stiff, hands still clutching her chest where she'd likely had a heart attack.         You exit the remains of the aisle. Not sure why you’d gone down them in the first place, pharmacy wasn't down there. You were still reeling from the last half hour. Was that all it had been- had everything fallen apart in thirty minutes?           A clatter breaks your reverie, your head shooting towards it.          Crawling out from under a piece of roof was a white coated pharmacy tech. The old-timer full-timer, Wes, you used your powers on almost every time you came in. You didn’t wait for him to stand to use your powers on him.         “I need my usual.”         When he stands, he leans dramatically to one side. The muscles in his side are split, piggy pink insides poking out of his coat. He turns for the wreck that used to be behind the counter, where he’d pass hours by counting pills. Gait short, steps dragging and too slow.         “Ignore the pain.”         With that, he goes upright. Walking confidently over to a fallen shelf, bending, ignoring the slippage of his guts. He goes from paper bag to paper bag, prescription to prescription. None of them have your name on it. Going official would’ve meant asking Machine Head to pull strings and you weren’t in a hurry for more debt. Controlling the pharmacy techs was the only way.         Wes straightens. Walking on uneven ground. Stopping two feet away and holding out a paper bag to you. Prescription for Sandra O'Connell. Probably dead now.

        You frown at the bag. Contents soaked into the brown bottom. Dripping out in clear, thick rivulets. You hadn’t been specific enough. Again with semantics, the pain in your ass. “Find me some that’s intact. As many bottles as you can.”         ***        "No." He's going to vomit. "No." He's going to cry. "No!" He's going to split this planet down the fucking middle, again.         His grip on Isotope's throat tightened. "You're lying." Spit flies off his teeth, onto Isotope's cheeks.          Together, him, Isotope, and Machine Head, hover over the rubble of what was supposed to be your apartment. A dead woman lying on its very top, head like a maraschino cherry.          Machine Head kicked at the air, gargling, "Get us the fuck out of here Isotope!"         One look from Dregs pissed off ex-boyfriend and Isotope knew. If he so much as tried to leave, they'd both be dead. "I'm not." Isotope can barely speak, throat the only thing keeping him upright. Hovering twenty feet above the busted building. "She should be on the third floor."        "What third floor!?"         "The one you fucking knocked down!" Machine Head grappled his arm. Twisting his sleeve, trying to hurt him- him with his weak human hands.         His hand tightened on Machine Head’s neck. Something inside his fleshy human body cracked. The man groaned and shuddered but still fought. “That bitch is dead!”          His head pounded, like a hammer slamming behind his eyes. His fingers are a flex away from breaking both their necks when Isotope says, “I know where else she could be.” He involuntarily shuddered when his assailant's eyes fell on him. Wild as his wind whipped mohawk.         “Spill.” The freak’s grip lightened. Isotope slipped down an inch, latching to the man’s wrist for support like he wanted to be choked.          “She’s some sorta dope fiend. Boys see ‘er at the CVS all the time, picking up the same shit.” Isotope’s words came out in heaves as he caught as much breath as he could. “If she’s alive.” At that word, if, his grip tightens, “Hurk— she’s probably at the pharmacy.” His arm came up, red suit creasing at the shoulder, “Right down the corner. Can’t miss it.”         His grip clenches tight, shutting Isotope up. “If she’s not there, I’m gonna see how high your body bounces when I drop you  ten-thousand feet.” He flew, slower than he’d like, searching for the right building. He knew what a pharmacy was, of course, but this wasn’t his New York. His New York was worse off than this one. Last time he saw it plants were taking over the concrete remains of the city. So he’s slow, only speeding when Isotope coughs and points out another chunk of destruction that looked like everything else in a thirty-mile radius. 

        ***

        T-minus eleven minutes until he arrived. He only had to hold onto Mach twelve for that much longer. Think of (Y/n). Think of holding you. Bringing you home.          The sound barrier cracked, then there was someone beside him. “What the fuck are you doing in my sky?”         Ah. That one. The one that called dibs on the king’s land because at home he was more than a king, better. Clad in his— their— old super suit. Viltrum’s sigil on his shoulders. Shoulder pads thick.         "Answer me.”         How the hell were they the same person? This version of him was so whiny. More insolent than a child. Apparently, his style was gaudy too. Minutes after they first met he went on and on about his outfit. How he was only wearing ‘this old piece of shit’ because he didn’t want to get his emperors clothes filthy. And still— he’d come wearing shoulder pads and metals of valor that were jittering in the wind, just barely holding on. He’d scoffed at the idea of human blood on his fuzzy emperor's cape.          Much as he wanted to, taking on the other version of himself was ill-advised. Sure, they were different but also the same in many ways. He’d know something was up.          His lips peeled apart. Glued by stagnant spit and silence. It felt like reopening a wound. “I’m done. Returning to the rendezvous.” His voice came out robotic. A modulator attached on the inside of his suit's throat.          The people of his world knew of Invincible but it was better no one saw any part of his face, recognized any inflection of his voice. Whatever was left of it anyways.          The other him, Shoulder Pads (there was no way he was calling him Mark), rolled his eyes. “That place better be dirt cuz if I gotta go to that shithole and finish what you couldn’t I’ll—“         “I assure you, the job is done.” Just leave. Go back to torturing people and making weird comments about slaves. Leave me be.         Shoulder Pad’s eyes narrowed to slits behind his goggles. “Don’t lie to me.”         “I don’t lie.” And that was the truth. Partially.         Shoulder Pad’s lips twisted. “Then you won’t mind if I come with you? Be nice to get to know my next commander better.”         Under his mask, his eye twitches. He'd heard this before, one too many times. Shoulder Pads saw him and the others as lesser. Good assets for his empire, sure, but lesser. He didn't plan on joining anyone's empire anytime soon.

        Putting up a fight would be suspicious. Though his throat was already raw with how much he’d spoke, more than he had in months, he said, “You’re finished?”         Shoulder Pads scoffed. “Hours ago. Whole country's ash.” He laughed, though he wasn’t lying. Looking down didn’t provide much of a view. Too much smoke in the way, billowing up from the entire United Kingdom like the thousands of acres were nothing but an overused ashtray. “I’ve been getting bored destroying those things they call islands.”         He nodded. A ‘so be it’ kind of gesture. They flew on. Shoulder Pads filling the not-quite silence— ripping through the air at mock twelve was awfully loud— while he thought over ways to get rid of his companion. Too many what-ifs. 

        What if Shoulder Pads saw you as some human to be killed on the spot, squashed like some kind of bug? What if Shoulder Pads toyed with you, if he tore you limb from limb? Made him relive the same memory in a different universe. Shoulder Pads taking the role of daddy-not-so-dearest.          Worse— what if Shoulder Pads was here for the same thing? A second chance.         ***     One bottle, two bottle, three bottle, four— there was a cute rhyme to tack to the end of that but you didn’t have the energy. Neither did the pharmacy tech, falling stone cold dead soon as he passed you the last bag.      You tear open the first bag, medicine for a Nancy Giovanni. You pull out the dark bottle, rolling it in your hand, making absolute sure the dying tech didn’t fuck up.              Prescription for: PROMETHAZINE VC/CODEINE [SYRUP] - 4 fl oz.              EACH 5ml (TEASPOON) CONTAINS:             CODEINE PHOSHPASE USP ... 10 mg             PROMETHAZINE HYDROCHLORIDE USP … 6.25 mg             PHENYLEPHRINE HYDROCHLORIDE USP … 5 mg             ALCOHOL … 7%             [RX ONLY]         Oh yeah baby, that’s the ticket. Cough syrup. The actually medicated stuff. Totally illegal to buy over the counter. You didn’t know what in it did the trick. The pain killer, the throat soother, cough suppressant, or the drinking so much you got a buzz part— either way, Codeine and Promethazine were a match made in heaven specifically to fix your powers right the fuck up. 

    ��  You twist the cap and end up dropping the rest of the bags. Sighing, you settle to sit, organize before getting down the business. Though the only place was wasn’t covered in debris was…         “Sorry Wes.” You say as you sit on the dead man's back. Something hard pushes into your ass. Shit, right, gun safety. You pull the six-shooter from the back of your sweats and set it by your feet. Not the top of the market stuff Machine Head's guards get, but a solid piece. Got enough of the latest tech to pop a supe's brains out their ass. Small but mighty. ID numbers sanded off, bought off the black market, given to you by your shithead boss. Sometimes things went south. Your mouth covered or earplugs put in. So you took the gun everywhere, just in case.

        You finish popping off the cap, take a breath of the rank air, and throw your head back, brown rim to your lips. There's a joke to be had there, but again, too tired for that shit.

        Caligula hops off your shoulders, annoyed. Tail twitching as he pads away to explore under rubble. Looking for mice like he always had in your apartment. You let him go. The cat was loyal as a dog, he'd be back.

        The syrup comes rolling down your tongue. Bitter, mucus-thick, gag worthy. Nothing you weren't used to. There've been too many times you were run dry and had to chug the slop mid-shootout to keep your head on your shoulders. So you don't breathe and drink, drink, drink until the bottle is a quarter empty.

        You lean forward, elbows on knees. Holding your head as things right themselves. Your throat numbed, blood drying in your nose, head not throbbing, only a light pulse. 

        It was a funny thing really, finding your personal anti-kryptonite. Three years back you were sick as a dog. Of course, you were on duty. When weren't you? You talked a backstabbing rat up to the roof of his apartment building, holding onto him up all the stairs, weak in your sickness. Right before you told him to jump, a coughing fit cut you short. He escaped your hold, pulled a gun on you, almost blasted your brains on the door to the stairwell. Lucky thing Isotope was there, zapping you out of the way. Pushing the dick off himself, and zapping you to this very building. Suggested you fix the problem, whatever it took, because he wouldn't bail you out again.

        He sucked balls but at least wasn't a whole dick. 

        You got a prescription. Drank the allotted amount. The cold cleared. Powers coming back like a tsunami. So strong they demanded to be used. So you drank more than the prescribed amount. Killed the rest of the rats nest of police informants on your own. Almost got killed again. Machine Head was angry you'd gone alone, when not assigned. But you didn't care. You'd found a power-up. Except, because there's always an exception- the boost only lasted as long as you could stay conscious. You’d overdosed more than a few times. 

       You recap the bottle. Consolidating the bottles in the front pocket of your hoodie. Tempted to down the whole thing, scared shitless from earlier, but it was a stupid idea while not being in immediate danger. Unless Wes decided to get up and chew you out for sitting on his dead body- you were safe.

        But not stupid. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts, trying to call contingency one through twenty-seven. Most didn't answer. Dead or unable to come to phone right now, so please leave a message! Some did, orders were given. Help, in case it was needed, was coming. Things like this had a strange way of being nowhere near over once things get quiet.

        Boots come down. Your head lolls over your shoulder. Danger is standing twenty feet back. Holding Machine Head and Isotope by the throats. Isotope pale and passed out. Machine Head weakly clawing at the ground, held down, forced to stay on his knees.

        He stares at you, the not-Mark with the dark, deep-set eyes, sat on your human throne. "That's... hm. Did you do that?"

        There goes saving the syrup. Out comes the partly drunk bottle, off goes the cap, to your lips the bottle goes.

        ***

        What the hell are they doing?

        Two dots on his wrist cuff, side by side. Darting through the projected 3D model of Earth. Heading west fast, over the Northern Atlantic. Making a b-line for another dot. The only one of the three who is where he's supposed to be. 

        "Got'chu now!" A shadow overcasts behind him.

        He presses a button, zooming into the map, not bothering to turn. Had he missed a message from Angstrom? No, not possible. He was the most reliable of all of them, no way Angstrom would cut him out. Certainly, he wasn't stupid enough to think he could.

        A mace whistled through the air, coming to split his skull. His arm slices out in an arc behind him. Barley trying. The sound of his would-be assailant so keening and pathetic he couldn't even take satisfaction in the kill. He pulls his arm free, the body falls. 

        He watches the remains splat onto the last intact chunk of sidewalk left in Seattle. The city was destroyed. The last of the gnats swatted down. He might as well investigate. Double check that he wasn't being double crossed.

        ***

        "Wow, oh wow, you like that." He laughed as the last of the syrup disappeared behind your lips. The bottle is thrown to the debris, to be forgotten. His voice is cloying and saccharine, and way too familiar, "Was that good?"

        Bitterness coats your tongue. Chemical smell stinging in your nose. Head swimming but feather light. "No." You say. The syrup leaden in your stomach. Throat numb but soon to burn with vomit. You didn't have much time to dispose of this freak. "But-"

        "Dregs! Jesus Christ, Dregs get him the fuck off me!" Machine Head kicked at the ground. Mohawk, you'd dubbed him, because no fucking way were you calling a shapeshifter the name it wanted you to call it. Name aside, he wasn’t about to let Machine Head go, or even let him touch the ground. His dignity just a few short inches away as he gagged and kicked. 

        "You seriously work for this guy?" Mohawk says. "So weak." His thumb barely flexes and all the air is cut from your boss's throat, the kicks becoming frantic. 

        You know the shapeshifter is trying to get to you but it gets deep, deep under your skin. You're on your feet, swaying. "Tell me who you really are."

        He laughs but the words are pulled out of him anyway. "Mark Grayson."

        Your teeth grind. He's not lying. Maybe not a shapeshifter. Maybe a hidden supe. Someone projecting hallucinations onto you, to make you go batshit and somehow kill yourself.

        "Tell me if you're real."

        "As you are, baby."

        "Dregs!" Machine Head screeches the second his thumb relaxes. "Dregs, if you don't get him off me, I'm docking your pay!"

        Mohawk's lip twitches, hand flexing. Shit. "Don't kill him." His hand relaxes. Though his eyes aren't as glazed as you'd like. He's still resistant but you've got the upper hand as long as your stomach holds. 

        "Yes! Yes, now get him to let go!"

        The command makes your stomach roil. Probably just the excessive drugs but still, you don't like the motherfucker. He can wait. "Why are you doing this?"

        "Made a deal. Break enough shit and I get a prize." Under control, people are emotionless, no use of unnecessary words or turn of phrase. But there he was, talking like a seventh grader.

        "Which is?"

        "You," you roll out of the way before they touch down. Feet first and much harder than necessary, sending dangerous bullets of rock spraying every which way. You're fine. Clothes dusty whereas Wes's corpse is more cut up than before. Sorry, guy.

        If one had been too much, enough to think he was a hallucination, then three was enough to make you consider committing yourself to a ward.         

        You'd seen one of the newcomers back in Sydney. The other beside him, eyeing you up and down like an antique at auction, was new. You'd forgotten about the cuff on your ankle. You were no techie, but logic and superheroes meant it was a tracker, hell, maybe hand (ankle?) cuffs if activated by something.

        "Oh what the fuck!" The mohawked one spoke for you, "I called New York. Find somewhere else to flatten."

        "Is this what you were in a such a hurry to finish for?" The newcomer with his stupid shoulder pads kicked a wall to pieces, looking to his companion. 

        The full-masked one stood still as a statue, quiet as a phantom. 

        "Course not," Shoulder Pads answered himself, "You came for that," his finger pointed accusingly toward the mohawked one, "isn't that right? He bruised your ego when you first met pretty bad, huh?"

        An insult from a version of himself who thought mohawks were peak fashion meant nothing. Sure, he'd called his mask creepy, but he didn't hold enough of a grudge to want to kill the guy over it. He did, however, not like how close he was to (Y/n). Twenty feet was nothing when one moved as fast as they did.

        "Who are you?"

        "Mark Grayson." The two newcomers answered together. One similar to the voice you knew, if a little nasaler. The other like that Guardian's dickhead, Robot.

       You dip down, swiping your gun off the ground. Careful not to move too quickly and let the bottles fall out of your pocket. "Why are there three of you?"

        "There's actually eighteen," Mohawk answers. "Dickheads all of 'em."

        "To expand my empire." Shoulder Pads says, more responsive to your control.

        "To destroy so much, it ruins the life of this dimension's Mark Grayson." The Phantom answers, voice and actually helpful honesty, sending a shiver down your back. 

        "Dregs-!"

        "Shut the fuck up." Your attention on Machine Head is nothing but murderous. As the situation unfolds, you find yourself realizing, for one, Machine Head is most definitely going to die. Villains of the week are stupid, sure, but they also take no prisoners. You’d say Machine Head had less than five minutes' life left on him. 

        For two, the world was pretty much fucked. Which means- weakness, instability and power up for grabs for Mister Liu to reclaim as his. You could be by his side, his left hand as he already had a right. No more debt, no more humiliation at Machine Head's hands. Because there was no way you were going straight, not after everything. But, you could climb the ladder in the dust of the world and climb it high- as you were right now.

        High enough to push Mister Liu off the ledge. High enough to never have to take orders from anyone ever again. Be your own boss. Maybe Machine Head had less than five minutes. 

        Even better, you could relocate out of the city (which you'd have to do anyway, I mean, look at this place). Somewhere you'd see Mark so little the lingering pain in your heart would maybe start to heal. The thought of killing him had crossed your mind. You placed heavy piles of blame on him for how your life turned out. Still, you ached and yearned for a teenage romance that'd never rekindle. You couldn't kill him, yet, not without crawling into Mister Liu's skin and wearing his shoes awhile. Surely you'd grow into them, give the order for someone to kill your ex without batting an eye- one day. 

        Your Mark wasn't on the official kill list yet, but these cheap imitations? These dimensional clones or whatever the fuck? Oh yeah baby, they've gotta die.

        ***

      He didn't bother telling his tails to leave. They were all lesser, but still, him. They were good at what they did, destroying things. 

        "Can you believe that guy tried to trap me in the- what was it- the shadow realm?" The blue and yellow clad gnat yammered beside him. The variant, slightly different from the others without his lenses, blasted up from the Guardian's HQ when he'd flown by. Asking all sorts of questions that were left unanswered and more importantly, unacknowledged. Maybe if he was ignored long enough, he'd go away. "Do'ya wanna know how I got out after I killed 'im?"

        No response.

        He went on anyway. "So like, after I ripped his heart out his chest the whole shadow realm started falling apart. I was like 'oh shit, I'm gonna die' so I gabbed the guys body and was like 'lemme out'. Shakin' him n' stuff. I dunno what happened, if there was a lil life left in him or what but I think I kickstarted something in him, cuz after eight or nine shakes I was back! Man, I almost forgot how crazy I killed those Guardian guys!"

        The other gnat, blue and black and imperceptibly different from this dimension's Mark Grayson, flew up to his other side. "You gonna show me that map or what?"

        He did not answer, for they had arrived. Three dots now five, six counting himself. All around the unimportant gray mass of some Earth dwellers' hovel. He stayed above because he was literally above touching down on Earth’s soil. His mother had been from this mud ball but she'd been elevated above the rest of this dirt-loving species by his father when he brought her back to Viltrum, swollen with pregnancy. 

        The others truly were lesser than he, for they shot down. Too impatient, too stupid to know what it is to observe from afar. They did all have enhanced hearing, did they not?

        ***

        Shoulder Pads shook his head, throwing the control off his brain like a wet dog. "The hell was that?" His head stopped, hair swept across his masked forehead. "How dare you- you-" His head kicked back a degree like he'd been sucker punched. It took him a minute, with the dirt and the outfit and the daring to wave around a gun. He recognised you now. Felt the pain searing hot in his chest. "Leave," he commanded, "All of you but," he turned back to, "you, stay."

        Nobody moved to obey. 

        "I said-"

        They came down from the sky like falling angels. 

         "The hell's this?" You watched him land. Watched him roll his shoulders. Mark, your Mark. Exactly the same. But what the fuck was he doing with this lot? "Where's Angstrom?" 

        "Not here, duh." The other newcomer says, bouncing on his heels. "Are we gonna turn on each other and fight to the death now? I really hope we turn on each other and fight to the death now." His eyes, lighter brown than you remember, slide from Mark to Mark to Wes to you. "A prize fight! Even better."

        You didn't like that word- prize. How he looked at you. Not as a person but as a street dog to collar. 

        Machine Head's toes displaced rubble. His captor's mohawk stood on end, as if electrified, "Get the fuck out of here." He says, "New York's mine. 'S not the meeting place for when we're done anyway."

        The stuck-up one, Shoulder Pads, moved toward you. Ankles breaking rubble as he went, too graceful to do something awkward like stepping over an obstacle. Why do that when you could just break it? 

        "Leave us now." He doesn't seem bothered by the fact that you raised the six-shooter, aimed straight for his throat. "And I'll consider letting the rest of you serve under me."

        He was there in a flash. Arm outstretched in front of his boy king other self, stopping him in his tracks- the phantom. Shoulder Pads stopped, ten feet shy from your person. You don't know what to say because as soon as you really get going, a fight is going to break. You won't survive. You've seen what Mark can do on the news. You don't doubt they can punch holes in you before you say stop. They're not far away like Mohawk had been. They're instant murder close. You have to be careful.

        "Don't get in my way." Shoulder Pads sneered to no reply.

        The lensless newbie jutted his thumb toward you, "Gonna go out on a limb 'n guess she's also your guy's dead girlfriend?"

        The word girlfriend hits you like a sack of rocks. When hit, hit back. You breathe in.

        "Dregs!" His voice is nails on a chalkboard, screeching, loud, and desperate. "God damn it! Help me!" Your hold on Machine Head had waned. He was back to whining. 

        Your hold on his captor had waned as well, telling by his eyes. But he didn't break Machine Head's neck. Instead, he watched, curious, a smile tugged the edge of his lip. 

        Tension rolled off Phantom and Emperor Shoulder Pads in waves. Lenseless’s knuckles popped, expecting violence with glee. The white clad warrior watched on from above. And your stupid ex-boyfriend just watched you, sneer on his lip like you were the problem. Like he wasn't covered in blood the fucking hypocrite. "I don't kill," my ass. He acted like he was better than you. 

        "I'll promote you! Right above Isotope." Who was passed out and couldn't be bothered by the betrayal. "We can run this city together. I can get you as much lean as you want! Fuck- I'll put you through rehab if you want!" 

        A bubble rolled up your throat. Not much longer now before you puke out power. You swallow down the burp. Anger a beat in your throat. "I'm not an addict."

        "Sure!" Machine Head laughed, "Sure! Whatever you say, just help me!" Isotope's eyes peeled open. He groaned, barely there.  Machine Head noticed, reaching out to shake the man's knee. "Get me out of here!"

        Your Mark clicked his tongue. "I can't say I'm surprised you haven't changed."

        "Isotope! Hey! Wake up!"

        "I used to think you'd be better than," Mark gestures to your boss, to your clothes, to the dilation of your eyes, embarrassingly aware of your high, "this." He sighed, "But I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same or however that shitty song goes. So much potential wasted. (Y/n), Seriously, this is pathetic."

        "Dregs, get Isotope up! Get us all out of here!"

        Mark smirked, "Name suits you."

        Your earlier machinations crumbled. Fuck waiting, maturing. People were going to die here, in this destroyed pharmacy, so why not start with him? 

        "Hey Mark?" 

        "Yeah?" It's a shame the others don't reply to the name. Too smart, too aware that if they were locked in conversation and attention, they'd be dead. 

        "Kill yourself."

        One hand to the chin, the other to the shoulder for support, like the first time you tried this trick on his doppelganger. The snap is quick. So powerful it twists his whole body backward, spine ripping out his back. He drops, blood dribbling out his mouth. 

        A weight lifts off your shoulders. You thought this would be harder. It's sad, sure, first love dead, very Romeo and Juliet, but you're still alive. You wish you could've made him see more, get a more torturous revenge. Or in a perfect world, one you didn't admit but dreamed of anyway, got him to see your side of things. 

        But you're so happy to see nothing behind his eyes. Dead while you're alive. The laugh forces out of you in a bark. It brings tears to your eyes, doubles you over. 

        The mood shifts. Tension sizzles away between the Marks. There were expectations, different for each, but this? Certainly was not one. 

        "Did you just-?" Lensless was at the corpse's side in a blink, poking at his twisted neck. "Oh, he's super mega dead." 

        "If he was weak willed enough to listen to the whims of a human he should've already been." Emperor Shoulder Pads says. "Better we weed out the weak before going back to my empire."

        "Shit, I was gonna kill Seventeen," Mohawk said. "Beat me to it, babe."

      "Seventeen?" You question between laughs.

        "Uh, yeah? Mark Seventeen. Demsion three-four-five, like neighbors with this one."

        "So he's not mine?"        

        "Yours? Baby, I'm yours- but that guy? Not from here."

        Oh? OH! He wasn't yours. Another variant, just awfully close in appearance. Something like relief pools in your stomach, or it's just the promethazine-codeine solution getting ready to come spewing out. 

        The Phantom keeps his hands at his sides, though they want to go to his head, press into his temples until the pain stopped. You weren’t like this. You weren’t supposed to be like this. Nothing like him. Maybe Shoulder Pads was right. Maybe Seventeen was weak willed, loved you so much he'd do anything you said. You couldn't be a killer. It just wasn't possible- wasn't right.

        "Isotope," he was starting to really regain consciousness, head lolling in Mohawk's hand, "Isotope, let's go!"

        He was going to leave you. Words of promise meant nothing obviously, you weren't born yesterday but the insult of it was the last fucking straw. 

        Right as power started to glow weakly from his palms, you say, "Look at me, Isotope."

        He does, slackjawed, droll rolling down his lip. Hands still glowing.

        Here's the thing about word and meaning induced mind control. Sometimes actions, gestures, are good as words, and as long as you've got your claws in their brain, as long as they're looking at you and understand- a gesture is enough to control.

        You lower the gun. As if it'd do anything against Shoulder Pads. One hand slipping off its metal grip, coming to the side of your head right above your ear. Rule number one of gun safety: Never put a gun to your head. So your bare hand comes up to do the job. Pinky and ring curling into your palm. Pointer and middle pressed to your scalp, thumb hanging down like the trigger. 

        Isotope's hand goes to the holster on his belt. Freeing the pistol, pressing it to the green side of his head, clicking off the safety. Waiting for the last order.

        "Dregs! Don't you fucking dare!" Machine Head trashes but his kicks do nothing to Mohawk's balance.

        The Mark’s watch, hypnotized like snakes to a charmer. 

        Your thumb twitches, miming the pull of a trigger.

        The bullet goes from one side of Isotope's skull to the other. Stopped by the side of Mohawk's knee, who doesn't even flinch at the lead cracking uselessly against his suit. Pale pink brains splatter his boots and shin guards. Chunks stick to Machine Head's dented metal face. Gravity slowly rolled them down, leaving trails of blood and cerebral spinal fluid in their wake.

        The dead weight is so unexpected in his hand, Mohawk is slow to drop the body. Killing another version of him was fair game. They were threatening your planet after all. But an ally? Very un-hero like.

        "You murderous yuppie cunt!" Machine Head's hand flies to his own holster. 

        "Don't talk to me like that, boss." He goes still, gun in hand. Your hand goes to the center of your forehead and so does his. Another twitch of the thumb sends a bullet and shrapnel backward. 

        Machine Head slumps, gun dropping, body twitching. Not dead yet.

        "Access the control panel." You say.

        His hand shakes violently as it comes to the side of his head. Pressing a button that makes the front half of his busted forehead come forward. Revealing the computer gore inside his head. 

        "Remove the leftmost microchip." You'd seen him getting maintenance too many times not to know that the chip contained his very consciousness. He'd yelled at so many paid-off Best Buy employees not to touch it. Threatened their families over it, but here he was, pressing its back so it'd come popping out. Soon as it does, his whole body goes slack.

        Killing what you thought was Mark yielded mixed feelings. But Machine Head and his lackey? That was pure cocaine right there baby. You felt like you could climb Everest. Like you really could overtake Mister Liu. 

        "Holy shit." Lensless let his jaw hang. "Powers, babe!? 'S awesome! Do it again!" His fingerless glove pointed to Shoulder Pads, "That guy! That guy next! Oh, wait, try it on me!" He doubted it'd work. He was way stronger than that pussy bitch Seventeen.

        Mohawk pulled Machine Head's slack body high above his head, inspecting. He was dead alright. So dead his bladder released and stained his gray slacks dark. He let the body drop. "You're pret-tee different here, huh babe?"

        Another bubble rises up your throat. 

        "What-" Shoulder Pads started, "What the fuck is wrong with this one?" He was expecting something else. Docile. Sitting at his feet like a good pup. At his beck and call. Especially not powered or alien or experimented or whatever the fuck you were. Clearly, you weren't normal.

        Phantom had nothing to say, as usual. Too busy fighting back the tears burning the back of his eyes. What has this world done to you? What had made you so callous? What had made you a killer? Whatever it was needed to burn. This monster in you, it could be culled; he could have the you he knew back. He could have it later, but for now, he fought grief.

        In the sky, the white clad warrior lets contentment simmer in his chest. Different, sure, but good different. Nothing like that human he brought to Viltrum to breed. A kicking, screaming crybaby who had no idea how lucky she was. Part of the shreds of resistance left, left alive by him of all people. Nothing like the doting creature his mother was to his father. Relationships like the ones on Earth weren't a thing on Viltrum. His parents were considered strange, but a strange he liked- though he wouldn’t admit it to a living soul.  

        So disappointing and ungrateful, a waste of time, of resources, he was sour about when he had to kill you. But not here, not this you.       

        Shadows whipped through the sky hundreds of feet below him. Some came hopping and bounding through the broken street. The few defenders left, not dead due to their own cowardice. 

        Contingency Six, Twelve, Nineteen, Twenty-two, and Twenty-eight surrounded you in a defensive circle, showing up at just the right time. Machine Head promised security but he wasn't omnipotent, despite his upgrades. You didn't trust him far as you could throw him either. So you had heroes, fellow crooks, and dregs of society on speed dail. Hypnotized at some point in the past with the same little speech.

        "See this number right here? Remember it. When you see me calling, you answer, no matter what. I don't care if you're mid-fuck, you'll do as I say. After I snap my fingers, you'll forget we ever had this conversation but a part of you will. And you will never have your phone on silent."

        You'd have to reset them anytime you called them in to save your ass from one thing or another. It was always worth the time if it meant you got to live and the other guy died.

        Thank God for hindsight. Wait, no, not hindsight, was it foresight? Ah, whatever, you'll remember the right word later when you're not high on power and codeine. 

        Flesh drones wait for orders. The Mark's wait for someone to make a move. You don't speak, not yet, letting your eyes scan over them all. Thinking of killing them too, how good it'd feel to kill your (kind of) ex-boyfriend over and over. Thinking of the ones not here, the ones you'd seen, the ones you hadn't. You could find them, kill them after. Maybe then you'd be ready for the real thing. No more mixed feelings. 

        Blood slowly rolls down your nostril. Darkly covering the dried streak from minutes ago. Your stomach rages. Throat constricting as it readies to puke. It hurts so bad, but you can't help but grin. Thinking aloud, "This is going to be the best day of my fucking life."

        Orders shoot out your lip. He should prepare for battle, but he couldn't help but be still, staring at you and the malice radiating off you. Lensless tugs on the hem of his mask, swallowing thickly, "Can you hold up a sec with the battle plans? I've got a crazy boner."

[izzyizumi]

{The more ProfessionalTM version #2}

{D I G I M O N} A d v e n t u r e {x T{e}xt P o s t(s) M e m e} ~ {A D O P T E E!}K O U S H I R O

{DO NOT R E-P O S T} {Do Not C o p y} (Please A s k to Use!) {DO NOT RE-P O S T TO OTHER S I T E S WITHOUT MY P E R M I S S I O N Under ANY Circumstances!!}

{Sharing p r i v a t e'ly is O.K, BUT P L E A S E DO NOT RE P O S T} *L I K E S O. K.

[deluboo]

SO WHAT? YOU'RE NOT MY BOYFRIEND.

genre: smut — 18+ㅤ contains: unprotected sex masturbation (m+f) oral sex

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it was another late night at the office, the clock nearing midnight as the soft hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of papers filled the air. you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head and stifling a yawn. across the room, seungcheol was doing the same, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar glint. this had become your routine – working late into the night, side by side, before heading back to your shared apartment.

"are you ready to call it a night?" seungcheol asked, his voice breaking the silence.

you nodded, shutting down your computer. "definitely. i think i’ve stared at this screen long enough to see the code in my sleep."

he chuckled, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "i know the feeling. let's get out of here."

the walk back to your apartment was quiet, the streets deserted and the air crisp. it was a short distance, just a few blocks, and the familiarity of the path made the silence comfortable. when you reached the apartment, seungcheol unlocked the door and held it open for you, a small gesture that always made you smile.

once inside, the routine continued. you dropped your bags by the door, kicked off your shoes, and headed to the kitchen. "want something to drink?" you called over your shoulder.

"sure, just water for me," he replied, disappearing into his room to change out of his work clothes.

you poured two glasses of water and settled onto the couch, waiting for him to return. moments later, he emerged in his usual post-work attire – gray sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, looking effortlessly handsome. he joined you on the couch, taking his glass with a grateful nod.

"long day," he said, taking a sip.

"tell me about it," you replied, leaning back against the cushions. "i don't know how much longer i can keep up with these late nights."

he turned to you, a playful smirk on his lips. "you say that every night, and yet here we are."

you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "yeah, yeah. don't remind me."

this was your life – a blend of work and personal time that blurred the lines between professional and intimate. seungcheol was more than just a co-worker; he was your confidant, your roommate, and the one constant in your hectic life. the nights often ended like this, with the two of you sitting close, sharing quiet moments that hinted at something more.

it had started innocently enough, a mutual attraction that neither of you had acknowledged at first. but late nights at the office had a way of breaking down barriers, and before long, your relationship had shifted into something physical. there was an unspoken agreement between you – no strings attached, no complications, just a way to unwind after the stress of the day. and it worked, for the most part.

the routine was simple and comforting. after sharing a drink and some light conversation, the atmosphere would naturally shift. seungcheol would give you that look, the one that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver down your spine. it was a look that promised escape from the day's stress and a dive into something much more exhilarating.

"ready for bed?" he would ask, though the question always held a double meaning.

"yeah," you’d reply, though the answer was never just about sleep.

you both moved with a practiced ease, the kind that comes from familiarity and mutual understanding. there were no awkward hesitations or second guesses – just a smooth transition from the living room to the bedroom. seungcheol would wrap his arms around you from behind as you brushed your teeth, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a thrill through you. these moments of quiet intimacy were as much a part of your routine as the more passionate encounters that followed.

in the bedroom, the air would be thick with anticipation. seungcheol had a way of looking at you that made you feel like the most important person in the world. he was attentive, always knowing exactly what you needed without you having to say a word. it was this unspoken connection that made your arrangement work so well. he understood you, and you understood him.

he would start slowly, his touch gentle yet firm, his kisses soft but growing more urgent as the moments passed. there was a rhythm to it, a dance that you both knew the steps to by heart. the way his hands roamed your body, the way he whispered your name – it was a routine that brought both of you immense comfort and satisfaction.

"you're so beautiful," he'd murmur against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

"and you're insufferable," you'd tease back, your breath hitching as his hands found their way to your most sensitive spots.

but beneath the teasing and the passion, there was a deeper connection. the routine was more than just physical release; it was a way for both of you to unwind and find solace in each other. the world outside could be chaotic and demanding, but in those moments, everything else faded away.

afterwards, you would lie together in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, the post-coital glow making everything feel warm and safe. seungcheol would hold you close, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. it was in these quiet moments that you felt the most at peace.

"you should try to get some sleep," he'd whisper, his breath warm against your ear.

"i will," you'd reply, though you often found yourself staying awake a little longer, savoring the feeling of his body next to yours.

one morning, as you and seungcheol were enjoying a lazy breakfast together, you decided to share some news that had been on your mind. it was your day off, and the apartment was filled with the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of the radio playing in the background. you had been chatting casually about work and plans for the day when you took a deep breath and decided to bring it up.

"hey, seungcheol," you started, trying to keep your tone light and casual, "i wanted to let you know that i’m bringing a friend over tonight. his name is haru."

seungcheol's reaction was subtle, but you noticed it immediately. his grip on his coffee mug tightened slightly, and there was a brief flash of something in his eyes – jealousy, perhaps? – before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

"oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "a friend, huh? what's the occasion?"

you shrugged, trying to hide your own nervousness. "just thought it would be nice to hang out. haru and i have been talking for a while, and i thought it would be good to introduce him to you."

there was a beat of silence as seungcheol processed this information. he took a sip of his coffee, his eyes studying you over the rim of his mug. "i see. well, it’s your place too. you can invite whoever you want."

you nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. you had expected some sort of reaction from seungcheol, but his indifference felt almost worse than outright disapproval. you couldn’t quite place it, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air now, a silent understanding that things might be changing.

the rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity as you prepared for haru’s visit. you spent hours cleaning the apartment, making sure everything was perfect. the kitchen was spotless, the living room was tidy, and you even put fresh sheets on the guest bed just in case. all the while, seungcheol watched you with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"you're really going all out for this guy, huh?" he remarked, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen as you bustled around.

"well, i want to make a good impression," you replied, trying to sound casual. "it's important to me."

seungcheol just nodded, his expression unreadable. "if you say so."

as the day wore on, your excitement grew, but so did your anxiety. you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to seungcheol's reaction than he was letting on. you had always valued your relationship with him, but you also knew that things couldn't stay the same forever. introducing someone new into your life felt like a step forward, but it also felt like a step away from the comfortable routine you had built with seungcheol.

the afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the apartment. you found yourself glancing at the clock more often than usual, your heart beating a little faster with each passing minute. you had spent so much time with seungcheol, sharing laughs, secrets, and intimate moments, that the thought of changing that dynamic was both thrilling and terrifying.

seungcheol, meanwhile, tried to focus on his own tasks. he moved around the apartment with an air of forced nonchalance, his usual confidence replaced with a slight edge of unease. he couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him, but he also didn't want to overstep any boundaries. you were free to see whoever you wanted, and he had no right to interfere. still, the thought of you being with someone else made his chest tighten.

"need any help with dinner?" seungcheol offered, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between you.

you looked up from the vegetables you were chopping and smiled. "sure, you can set the table."

as he busied himself with plates and cutlery, seungcheol couldn't help but steal glances at you. there was a lightness in your step, a brightness in your eyes that he hadn't seen before. it was clear that you were genuinely excited about haru's visit, and that realization made his heart ache just a little bit more.

"what's he like?" seungcheol asked, trying to sound casual.

"haru?" you paused, thinking about how to describe him. "he's sweet, funny, and really kind. we've been talking a lot, and i think there's something special between us."

seungcheol nodded, forcing a smile. "that's great. i'm glad you're happy."

you sensed the underlying tension in his words but chose not to push it. instead, you focused on the task at hand, preparing a meal that you hoped would impress haru. as the aroma of cooking filled the apartment, you allowed yourself to relax, reminding yourself that this was a positive step forward.

by the time evening rolled around, everything was ready. the table was set, the food was prepared, and you had even taken the time to freshen up and change into something nice. as you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the evening ahead.

just as you were about to head back to the living room, there was a knock at the door. your heart leaped in your chest, and you quickly moved to answer it. opening the door, you were greeted by haru's warm smile.

"hey," he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "you look amazing."

"thanks," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "come in."

haru stepped inside, and you took a moment to admire him. he was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell slightly over his eyes and a charming, easygoing demeanor. he wore a casual outfit – jeans and a fitted shirt that showed off his athletic build. there was an air of confidence about him that put you at ease and made you feel excited about the evening ahead.

as you led haru into the apartment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. you had worked hard to make everything perfect, and now it was time to see how the evening would unfold. you guided him to the living room, where the table was set, and the aroma of the dinner you had prepared filled the air.

"this looks fantastic," haru said, glancing around appreciatively. "you really went all out."

you smiled, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction. "i just wanted to make sure you felt welcome."

just as you were about to introduce him to seungcheol, you heard the sound of a door opening behind you. seungcheol stepped out of his room, wearing his usual post-work attire of gray sweatpants and no shirt. his appearance was casual, yet it held an undeniable magnetism.

his well-defined muscles, honed from hours at the gym, moved with an effortless grace. his broad shoulders and chiseled chest caught the light just right, casting shadows that emphasized his sculpted physique. but it was his face that truly captivated – a strong, chiseled jawline framed a mouth that could shift from a teasing smile to a serious line in an instant. his dark hair was tousled, giving him an endearingly roguish look, while his eyes, a piercing shade of deep brown, held an intensity that made it hard to look away.

there was a certain scent about him, a mix of clean soap and something distinctly his, that lingered in the air and made your heart race. as he moved, there was an air of confidence and quiet strength about him, yet a hint of vulnerability in the way his eyes flickered over to you, just for a moment, before settling on haru.

seungcheol stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking onto haru and then drifting down to where your hands were still connected. the room seemed to freeze in that moment, an awkward silence enveloping you all.

"hey," seungcheol finally said, his voice low and rich, like a warm breeze. "i didn't realize we had company."

you quickly dropped haru's hand, feeling a bit flustered. "seungcheol, this is haru. haru, this is my roommate, seungcheol."

haru extended a hand, smiling politely. "nice to meet you."

seungcheol glanced at the outstretched hand, his eyes narrowing slightly. he made no move to take it, instead crossing his arms over his chest, his expression remaining cool and unreadable. "likewise," he said, his gaze never leaving haru's face.

there was a palpable tension in the air, and you couldn't quite understand why. seungcheol's usual easygoing demeanor seemed to have been replaced by something more guarded and intense. you brushed it off, attributing it to the sudden change in routine.

"why don't you join us for dinner?" you suggested, trying to ease the awkwardness.

seungcheol glanced at the table, then back at you. "i was just going to grab a snack," he said, his tone casual. "but thanks for the offer."

ignoring the lingering tension, you led haru to the dining table and gestured for him to sit. as you brought out the food, seungcheol moved to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with an air of nonchalance that seemed almost too forced. he emerged with a bottle of water and a snack, then leaned against the counter, watching you and haru with a look that you couldn't quite decipher.

"so, how did you two meet?" seungcheol asked, his voice cutting through the quiet conversation you were having with haru.

"we met through a mutual friend," haru explained, smiling at you. "it’s been really nice getting to know y/n."

"that's great," seungcheol replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "y/n is pretty amazing."

the compliment, though genuine, felt loaded with unspoken words. you glanced at seungcheol, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression was unreadable. you turned your attention back to haru, determined to make the evening enjoyable despite the strange undercurrent of tension.

as the evening progressed, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly strained. you and haru settled into a comfortable rhythm, your conversation flowing easily despite the occasional pointed look from seungcheol. haru seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. the food was delicious, and the atmosphere should have been perfect, but you couldn't shake the feeling that seungcheol was watching your every move with a scrutinizing gaze.

"so, haru," seungcheol interjected suddenly, his voice slicing through the lighthearted chatter with the precision of a well-aimed dagger. "what line of work keeps you occupied?"

haru looked up, momentarily startled by the abrupt inquiry. "i'm a graphic designer," he replied, offering a polite smile. "i work at a small agency downtown."

"fascinating," seungcheol drawled, leaning back in his chair with a languid grace that belied the intensity of his gaze. "it must be quite rewarding to indulge in such creative endeavors. y/n and i, alas, are consigned to the monotonous world of numbers and figures."

you shot seungcheol a pointed look, silently beseeching him to temper his remarks. however, he merely quirked an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as if he were savoring the undercurrent of tension he had created.

"it has its moments," haru conceded, his smile faltering ever so slightly under the weight of seungcheol's scrutiny. "i do enjoy the creative challenges."

"good for you," seungcheol replied, his tone laced with a veneer of civility that did little to mask the sarcasm lurking beneath. "it's always heartening to hear of someone finding fulfillment in their work."

sensing the rising tension, you endeavored to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "haru, you were telling me about that fascinating project with the interactive website. do go on."

haru's face brightened at the change of topic, and he launched into an enthusiastic description of his latest project. you listened with genuine interest, but you couldn't ignore the way seungcheol's eyes kept flickering back to you, his expression a perplexing blend of amusement and something darker.

as the evening wore on, seungcheol's interruptions grew more frequent and increasingly pointed. he made snarky comments about the food, pointed out trivial inconsistencies in haru's stories, and even "accidentally" bumped into you as he moved about the apartment. each incident seemed designed to unnerve haru, whose initial charm was gradually giving way to visible discomfort.

"excuse me," seungcheol said at one point, reaching across the table with a deliberate nonchalance that belied his true intent. he managed to knock over haru's glass of water, sending a cascade of liquid across the table. "oops. my apologies."

you quickly grabbed a towel to mop up the spill, your frustration simmering just below the surface. "it's fine," you said through clenched teeth, attempting to maintain your composure. "no harm done."

haru forced a smile, but the strain was evident in his eyes. "it's okay," he murmured, though his voice lacked its earlier warmth.

seungcheol's behavior was wearing on your nerves, and you couldn't fathom why he was acting this way. he had never been so openly antagonistic before, and it was starting to fray your patience. all you wanted was to enjoy your evening with haru, but seungcheol seemed hell-bent on making that impossible.

the final straw came when seungcheol "accidentally" brushed against haru's arm as he walked past, causing haru to drop his fork with a loud clatter. the sound reverberated through the tense silence, amplifying the growing discord.

"seriously?" you snapped, your eyes flashing with indignation as you glared at seungcheol. "can you please give us a moment's peace?"

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his expression one of feigned innocence. "i was merely getting a drink," he said, holding up his glass as if to underscore his point.

"well, can you manage it without causing a scene?" you retorted, your frustration boiling over.

haru placed a soothing hand on your arm, his touch gentle and calming. "it's okay, y/n," he said softly, his eyes beseeching you to let it go. "really, it's fine."

but it wasn't fine. you could see the hurt and confusion in haru's eyes, and it only fueled your anger further. seungcheol was ruining what should have been a pleasant evening, and you were at a loss to understand why.

the tension in the room had reached a palpable peak, a silent battle of wills between seungcheol and haru with you caught in the crossfire. the evening that you had hoped would be a pleasant introduction of new possibilities had turned into a minefield of unspoken emotions and escalating conflict.

seungcheol's final act of sabotage came as the three of you attempted to settle down in the living room. you had just suggested watching a movie, hoping it might diffuse the tension, when seungcheol abruptly stood up, his eyes glinting with barely concealed irritation.

"i don't think this is working out," he announced, his voice ringing with a finality that froze you in place. he turned to haru, his expression hardening. "i think it's time for you to leave."

haru's eyes widened in shock, his calm demeanor slipping as he struggled to process seungcheol's blunt dismissal. "excuse me?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"you heard me," seungcheol replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "this isn't your place, and i think it's best if you leave now."

you felt a rush of anger and embarrassment flood your cheeks. "seungcheol, what the hell are you doing?" you demanded, stepping between him and haru. "you can't just kick him out like this!"

seungcheol's eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "i'm doing what needs to be done," he said, his tone unyielding.

haru stood up, his expression a mixture of hurt and frustration. "it's okay, y/n," he said, his voice resigned. "i'll go. this isn't worth the trouble."

you turned to haru, your heart sinking. "i'm so sorry, haru. this is not how i wanted tonight to go."

haru managed a small, sad smile. "it's not your fault," he said softly. "i'll call you later."

as haru gathered his things and headed for the door, you felt a pang of guilt and regret. this was supposed to be a simple, pleasant evening, and now it was ending in disaster. once the door closed behind haru, the silence in the apartment was deafening.

you turned to seungcheol, your anger boiling over. "what the hell was that for?" you shouted, your voice shaking with fury. "you just ruined my date! why would you do that?"

seungcheol's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and something else you couldn't quite place. "he wasn't right for you," he said flatly.

"that's not for you to decide!" you shot back, your frustration reaching a breaking point. "you had no right to interfere like that. haru is a good guy, and you just humiliated him for no reason!"

seungcheol took a step closer, his presence towering over you. "i couldn't just stand by and watch you pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn't," he said, his voice low and intense. "you deserve better than some guy who doesn't even know you."

"better?" you echoed, incredulous. "and who are you to say what i deserve? you've made it very clear that our…whatever this is…doesn't mean anything beyond a few nights of fun. you don't get to dictate who i see or don't see."

seungcheol's eyes darkened, his frustration matching your own. "is that what you think?" he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. "that this doesn't mean anything to me?"

you crossed your arms, trying to shield yourself from the vulnerability his words evoked. "what else am i supposed to think? you keep things casual, no strings attached. that's what we agreed on."

"and maybe i was wrong," seungcheol said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "maybe i want more than that. maybe i want you."

the words hung in the air between you, a raw and unfiltered confession that left you reeling. you searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he was playing with you, but all you saw was sincerity and a depth of emotion that took your breath away.

the silence following seungcheol's confession was thick with tension, each second stretching like an eternity. you stood there, heart pounding, grappling with the raw honesty of his words. the anger that had fueled your argument moments ago was now mingled with confusion and a flicker of something unnamed and unsettling.

"y/n," seungcheol began, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "i mean it. i want you."

you opened your mouth to respond, to argue, but before you could utter a single word, seungcheol closed the distance between you. his hands cupped your face with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his emotions, and then his lips were on yours, silencing your protests in an instant.

the kiss was both unexpected and overwhelming. seungcheol's lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a fervor that took your breath away. for a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the world narrowing to the points where your bodies connected. his kiss was demanding yet tender, a blend of passion and desperation that made your heart race.

but just as quickly, the reality of the situation crashed back over you. you pulled away, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "no," you said, shaking your head as if to clear it. "you don't get to do that."

seungcheol's eyes searched yours, a mix of confusion and hurt flashing across his face. "y/n, i—"

"no," you interrupted, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration. "you can't just kiss me and expect everything to be okay. you don't get to treat me like some casual hookup and then suddenly decide you want more. it doesn't work like that."

seungcheol took a step back, his hands dropping to his sides. "that's not what i'm doing," he said, his voice low but steady. "it's not like that."

"then what is it?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive gesture. "because all you've ever wanted from me is something casual. and now, after ruining my date, you think you can just change the rules?"

"y/n, please," seungcheol pleaded, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. "just listen to me."

you hesitated, the sincerity in his voice giving you pause. "fine," you said, your tone still guarded. "i'm listening."

seungcheol took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. "i know i've been an idiot," he began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. "i've been hiding how i really feel because i was scared. scared of messing things up between us, scared of losing you if it didn't work out."

you frowned, your anger slowly giving way to confusion. "what are you talking about?"

"i'm talking about how much you mean to me," seungcheol said, taking a step closer. "i'm talking about how i can't stand the thought of you being with someone else because it makes me realize just how much i care about you. this isn't just some fling for me, y/n. it never was."

his words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. you could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his expression. it was a side of seungcheol you hadn't seen before, and it left you reeling.

"but you never said anything," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "you never gave me any indication that you felt this way."

"i know," seungcheol admitted, his voice thick with regret. "and i'm sorry for that. i thought i could keep things casual, that it would be easier that way. but seeing you with haru… it made me realize that i can't do this anymore. i can't pretend that what we have doesn't mean everything to me."

you stared at him, your mind racing as you tried to process everything he was saying. the anger that had fueled your argument was slowly giving way to a deeper, more complex mix of emotions. part of you wanted to believe him, to take the leap and see where it could lead. but another part of you was still hurt, still wary of getting your heart broken.

the silence hung heavy between you, laden with the weight of unspoken words and the raw, intense emotions that seungcheol’s confession had unearthed. you could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw vulnerability that he rarely showed. and in that moment, your resolve began to waver.

“seungcheol,” you began, your voice trembling, “i don’t know what to say.”

“then don’t say anything,” he replied, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. “just let me show you how i feel.”

before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fervent and tender. his hands moved to your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt your body respond to his touch, the anger and confusion melting away, replaced by a burning desire.

his kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against yours with a sensuality that made your knees weak. you clung to him, your hands tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment. seungcheol’s hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire in your veins.

he broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “i need you, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. “i need you to know how much you mean to me.”

you nodded, unable to find your voice. he took your hand, leading you to the bedroom, each step filled with anticipation and unspoken promises. once inside, he turned to you, his gaze smoldering.

“undress for me,” he commanded softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

with trembling hands, you complied, shedding your clothes until you stood bare before him. seungcheol’s eyes roamed over your body, his expression one of awe and desire. he stepped closer, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “i want to make you feel good. will you let me?”

you nodded again, your breath hitching as his hands trailed down your body, leaving a path of fire in their wake. he knelt before you, his eyes locking onto yours as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

the sensation was electric, and you felt a surge of arousal as his mouth moved closer to your core. he parted your folds with his fingers, his tongue flicking over your clit with a skill that made you gasp. seungcheol’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue and lips working in tandem to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

“oh, god, seungcheol,” you moaned, your hands fisting in his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth. “don’t stop.”

he hummed in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. his tongue circled your clit, teasing and tormenting you until you were trembling with need. he slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that sweet spot, and you cried out, your body arching towards him.

seungcheol didn’t relent, his mouth and fingers working together to drive you closer and closer to the edge. you could feel the tension building, a coil tightening in your belly, and then it snapped, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as you came, your cries echoing in the room.

he didn’t stop, his movements gentle as he coaxed you through the aftershocks, his eyes never leaving your face. when you finally came down, he stood, his fingers trailing your slick arousal up to your lips.

“open,” he instructed, and you obeyed, taking his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. the look of pure desire in his eyes made your pulse quicken, and you sucked his fingers clean, reveling in the way he watched you.

“good girl,” he praised, his voice a low rumble. he kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. you could taste yourself on his lips, the mingling of flavors heightening your arousal once more.

seungcheol broke the kiss, his hands moving to undo his pants. “lie down,” he instructed, and you did, stretching out on the bed, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm.

he shed his clothes quickly, his erection standing proud as he joined you on the bed. he knelt between your legs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you spread out before him. “i’m going to make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice thick with need.

he took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly as he watched you. “touch yourself,” he ordered, and you complied, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles as you watched him.

seungcheol groaned, his hand moving faster on his cock as he watched you pleasure yourself. “that’s it, baby,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “make yourself come for me.”

you bit your lip, your fingers moving faster, the combination of his gaze and the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. “seungcheol,” you moaned, your body tensing as you felt your orgasm building once more.

“come for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “come for me, y/n.”

his words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a cry, your body trembling with the force of your release. seungcheol watched you, his hand moving faster on his cock as he brought himself to the brink.

he leaned over you, his eyes burning with need. “i need to be inside you,” he said, his voice a raw whisper. “i need to feel you.”

you nodded, spreading your legs wider in invitation. seungcheol positioned himself at your entrance, his cock slick with your arousal. he pushed in slowly, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp.

he set a slow, steady pace, each thrust deep and deliberate. the pleasure built with each movement, the intensity of the connection between you making your head spin. seungcheol’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“look at me,” he murmured, his voice a soft command. “i want to see you.”

you locked eyes with him, the depth of emotion in his gaze taking your breath away. the rhythm of his thrusts increased, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. he reached down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

the combination was too much, and you felt yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, the intensity overwhelming. “seungcheol,” you gasped, your body arching towards him.

“come for me,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “i want to feel you come around me.”

his words sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. seungcheol followed you, his release spilling into you as he groaned your name, the sensation of him filling you only heightening your pleasure.

he collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. you turned to him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your release. he pulled you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead.

“are you okay?” he asked softly, his hand smoothing over your hair.

you nodded, your heart full. “i’m more than okay,” you replied, your voice a whisper. “i’m perfect.”

seungcheol smiled, his eyes warm with affection. “good,” he said, pulling you even closer. “because i’m not letting you go.”

the promise in his words wrapped around you, a comforting reassurance of the depth of his feelings. in that moment, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. and that was all you needed.

the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. you stirred, nestled in the warmth of seungcheol’s embrace, his arm draped protectively around your waist. for a moment, you lay still, savoring the tranquility of the morning, the quiet intimacy that enveloped you both.

seungcheol shifted beside you, his eyes fluttering open. a slow smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you in his arms. "good morning," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

"good morning," you replied, your own smile matching his.

he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "how did you sleep?" he asked, his lips trailing soft kisses down your temple and along your cheek.

"better than i have in a long time," you admitted, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gestures.

seungcheol’s kisses continued, each one a tender promise of his feelings. he moved to your other cheek, then your nose, then your chin, covering your face with a constellation of soft, loving kisses. you couldn’t help but giggle at the sensation, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you.

"seungcheol," you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as he nuzzled against your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"hmm?" he hummed, his lips moving to your jawline.

"this is nice," you said, your voice soft. "i could get used to waking up like this."

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. "so could i," he replied, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips.

just as you were losing yourself in the sweetness of the moment, a familiar sound interrupted the tranquility. the door creaked open, and you felt a rush of fur and energy as kkuma, seungcheol’s dog, bounded into the room.

"kkuma!" seungcheol exclaimed with a laugh, sitting up as the dog jumped onto the bed, tail wagging furiously.

kkuma wasted no time, planting herself between the two of you and showering seungcheol with enthusiastic licks. you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the dog’s antics bringing a lightness to the room.

"kkuma, stop," seungcheol said, though his laughter belied any real annoyance. he scratched behind the dog’s ears, giving her the attention she so eagerly sought. "you’re interrupting a very important moment, you know."

you smiled, reaching out to pet kkuma as well. "i think she’s just making sure we’re both awake," you said, your heart full as you watched the playful interaction between seungcheol and his beloved pet.

kkuma’s presence had an undeniable way of lightening the mood, her joyful energy infectious. she turned her attention to you, her eyes bright with curiosity. you scratched her behind the ears, earning a contented sigh as she settled down between you and seungcheol.

the three of you lay there for a while, enjoying the peaceful morning. 

"y/n," seungcheol said softly, his hand finding yours under the covers. "about last night…"

you turned to him, your heart skipping a beat at the seriousness in his tone. "yes?"

"i meant everything i said," he continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "i want to be with you. for real. no more pretending, no more keeping things casual."

you felt a lump form in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes nearly overwhelming. "i want that too, seungcheol," you whispered, squeezing his hand. "i want to be with you."

he smiled, a look of pure relief and happiness washing over his face. "then let’s do it," he said, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with a gentle, lingering sweetness that left no doubt about his feelings.

kkuma, not to be left out, nudged her way between you once more, her tail thumping against the bed as she demanded attention. you both laughed, the moment made all the more perfect by her playful interruption.

as the morning sun continued to rise, you and seungcheol talked about your future, about the possibilities that lay ahead. there was a sense of hope and excitement, a feeling that together, you could face whatever came your way.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ — © DELUBOO 2024.

[ningvory]

yaaaayyy congrats on hitting 2k this is big!!! <3 <3

I was thinking maybe we could get a massage parlor AU with pervy mausseuse!julie being obsessed with her new client's ass to the point where she can't keep her fingers to herself and decided to give reader's ass a "deep tissue massage". So some dubcon and anal but feel free to add other things too! <3

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 1,383 words • 2k event

a/n: anon this has gagged me..and i was lowkey feeling like reader with the major back problems..might need to go to a massage parlor myself..

CW: dubcon, g!p julie, ass play, anal, degrading, readers first time with anal, julie takes advantage of how oblivious reader is, belle is readers cowokers and recommends it to her, not proofread!

your back has been killing you for what seemed like forever, and being hunched over looking at a computer screen for over five hours doesn’t help you one bit. it’s probably the reason why your back is in the state it it.

normally you don’t have such an awful posture but it’s almost physically impossible to keep a straight posture the whole day. then you only have a thirty minute lunch break and a fifteen minute break.

“y/n~ fix your posture!” the voice of your coworker, anabelle pulled you away from the screen on your computer. when her words finally registered into your head, you slowly fixed your posture.

“it’s just so hard to keep a good posture, my lower back is killing me..” you mumbled, trying to ignore the pain from your back.

“luckily for you, i know someone who works at that new massage parlor down the street from our apartment area!” anabelle quietly squealed, almost like she’s been dying to tell you this information.

before you could even ask her anything she answered your questions almost immediately, “her names julie, she’s a few years older than us. i’ll book your appointment and text her that you know me!” she smiled before dragging a guest chair to the side of your chair.

she pulled the booking website up, doing all the work for you like shes worked at a massage parlor before, only letting you pick your favorite oils and candles for you. “done! your deep tissue massage is booked for 6:30 pm today, i got you the deluxe package so don’t forget to remove every single clothing, including your panties~” anabelle smiled your way, it was currently 6:00 pm, exactly an hour away from the time so you and anabelle began to pack up your things.

“you must be y/n, right? you’re our last client of the day!” the woman asked, you confirmed her assumption with a meek ‘yes’.’ “i can tell this is your first time at a massage parlor so i’ll guide you where you need to go.” the receptionist came from behind the counter to lead you the way.

“you must be y/n, right? you’re our last client of the day!” the woman asked, you confirmed her assumption with a meek ‘yes’.’ “i can tell this is your first time at a massage parlor so i’ll guide you where you need to go.” the receptionist came from behind the counter to lead you the way.

“you must be y/n, right? you’re our last client of the day!” the woman asked, you confirmed her assumption with a meek ‘yes’.’ “i can tell this is your first time at a massage parlor so i’ll guide you where you need to go.” the receptionist came from behind the counter to lead you the way.

she stopped in front of the changing rooms, “here’s your white and gold robe that come with the deluxe package, along with matching slippers.” she handed you it, allowing you to change in it.

once you got in the changing room, you stripped all your clothes, placing it in the bag your brought. you silently thank yourself for carrying extra clothes in your trunk in case of an emergency. you were slightly nervous, you’ve seen the videos of their hands going all over the client’s body and the noises that unexpectedly come out.

you opened the door, handing her the bag with your clothes and letting her lead the way to the room which was right around the corner, “ms. julie is already waiting for you in there. enjoy!” she lady said walking off, giving you a small smile.

you opened the door, to see julie sitting in her chair scrolling on her phone until she heard the door close, eyes falling on you and smiling. “ahh you must be y/n~ i’m julie.” she smiled at you, extending her hand for you to take. her personality relaxing you quickly.

“hey nice to meet you!“ you smiled, shaking her hand, “first time here?” she asked, noticing your nervousness, removing your robe for you and sitting you down on the table. “yeah” you said breathily, your nipples began to harden from being exposed to the atmosphere. you didn’t noticed her smirk when she took a look at your ass, “don’t worry~ and just relax..” she dragged the work out.

she began to set up the oils and candles, the ones you preferred. she grabbed the remote to the flatscreen tv in the room and played her shuffle of music to make thing less awkward for you. she instructed for you to lay down on your tummy and place your head in the hole before adjusting it to fit your body height just right.

she started warming your body up, placing the oils on your body, gently loosening you up, pulling a small moan from your mouth. “breathe, baby” she reminded you, guiding your breaths with her own. she quickly finds the tense spots, getting rid of them almost instantly, dragging out whimpers that just go straight to her cock! it didn’t help that your ass was just on full display for her and your whines makes it worse :(

when she gets to your lower back, just above your ass, she get a little rougher, massaging the most tense spot of your back, pulling out small moans. her hands slowly cups your ass cheeks, softly squeezing them in her hands and spreading them wide, revealing your cunt and asshole to her. “julie? is..is this apart of the massage?” you gasp, fighting the urge to moan. “of course, why wouldn’t it be? i’m a professional ‘ya know.” she bites her lip, responding to you.

“ah~ sorry” you replied, deadpanning yourself for asking something stupid, why would it not be apart of the massage? “no worries, sweetheart, now..tell me how this feels..” she interns her oil covered finger into your ass, earning a loud whine from you before swiftly slapping a hand to your mouth. “f-feels good..” you whine, the new sensation flooding your system.

you heard her pants unzip and her boxers fall to the ground, and that’s when you figured this probably wasn’t apart of the message, but your body felt so relaxed after she worked her magic and she was attractive. “don’t scream.” she warns your before pushing her thick cock into your ass, rendering you speechless, your eyes were closed tight trying to adapt to the stretch.

“so oblivious..it’s cute..” she grunts, pulling her cock all the way out just to plunge right back into your tight ass, you couldn’t find it in you to form a sentence, strangled moans just spilled out of your mouth.

“answer, slut.” she smacks your ass, making a loud moan come out of your mouth. the rooms were actually soundproof but she thinks it’s cute how hard you try to keep quiet. “y-yea..sorry” you reply, not really sure of what she even said.

she finds a steady pace, making you slide up and down on her table from the force of her thrust. “m-more please..” you beg and she smiles behind you before her hand found your hips and began ponding into you with her other hand toying with your clit, making you squirm under her touch.

after a few more thrusts and her degration, you felt something unfamiliar bubbling in your tummy, “julie.. i think i have to pee?” you questioned, not even sure yourself what this feeling was.

she giggled at your words, “silly baby, you’re about to squirt.” she explained, rubbing your clit quicker, as you thrash around on the table, back arching deeper into the table as you squirt all over her, legs shaking under her.

“fuck!” julie whines, shooting her thick spurts of cum into your used ass. “your appointment is all done!” she chuckles, pulling her spent cock out of you and zipping her pants up, and helping you get situated.

“should we schedule your next appointment? from now on my services will be free!” she winks, washing her hands off at the sink in the room. “uh huh..” you breathe out, still trying to collect yourself after that orgasm. “see you soon then!” she slips a paper with her phone number on it in your bag, and bids you goodbye for now.

you looked down and read the paper,

‘need to fill your other holes up too.. call me! <3’