#it was a completely new situation and i got there perfectly and made conversation and didnt have a panic

[steampoweredskeleton]

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Ignore

[genshin-obsessed]

Hey pocky! Could you do polyamorous hcs with reader, Cyno and Tighnari? I just love those two, and you haven’t wrote poly in a minute, so sorry if this is out of the blue.

(Remember to stay hydrated ✨)

Hiya anon! You’re right, it’s been a while! I hope you like it!

8/1/24: umm idk how long this has just been sitting here completed. Cuz it was down in my drafts.. im really, really sorry anon ;w;

Cyno x Reader x Tighnari

There was definitely a spark between Cyno and Tighnari. They’ve known each other for a while and so they’re a bit closer.

But there was no relationship, as it was just a close friendship. That is, until they met you. You squeezed in perfectly within their dynamic.

As the two of them got closer with you, that’s when they really started to realize they had feelings for you.

It was the little things, you know? For example, Cyno would feel his heart beat faster and faster every time you laughed at one of his jokes. Or he’d have a greater need to keep you safe.

Tighnari started noticing that no matter how many questions you asked about his work, he would never tire answering them. He never felt irritated or annoyed, instead, he was more than happy to help you out.

There weren’t many jealousy issues. Meaning, you were laughing with someone else and they got angry. They did feel a tad left out, but not jealous, per se. Cyno does find himself wanting to make sure your friends all have true intentions.

It took, maybe a year or so, for both of them to come to terms with their feelings for you. Being as close as they were, the two chose to confide in other another. Which created an awkward situation to say the least.

Both were insistent the other take their chance and that you liked them more anyway. Tighnari figured you’d like someone like Cyno, someone who was extremely serious with his work, but could relax with his friends afterward- almost like a new person. While most people didn't enjoy his jokes, you did and Cyno loved to make you laugh.

Conversely, Cyno thought maybe Tighnari was more your type. Intelligent, a good leader, knowledgeable in the forest and his work and you always seemed more comfortable around him. You would often seek out Tighnari if you were bored or just needed a friend to hang out with since Cyno's work took him further away.

Neither came to a meaningful conclusion that day and so they decided to "help" each other out. Unfortunately, this led to both of them distancing themselves from you inadvertently. Cyno wanted you to get with Tighnari and felt the best way was to remove himself. So, he took on more work that took him out into the desert.

Tighnari believed that you should be with Cyno and would often cancel on plans in hopes you’d maybe make some with Cyno instead. He would often ask both you and Cyno to meet him somewhere and just wouldn't show up. While it made his heart hurt for longer than he'd imagine, the idea of you two being happy together brought him some solace.

That went about as swimmingly as you could imagine. Both were unavailable all the time and it just felt so odd. It felt intentional. You gave them the benefit of the doubt in the beginning and just assumed it really was work which was their go-to excuse. Until the day you thought Tighnari was “busy with work” and found him at the bar with Kaveh!

Oh, that was so uncomfortable and he tried to wiggle away a little, admittedly. It didn't wokr and... that’s when Tighnari explained that he wanted to give you a chance with Cyno- and unfortunately, had to confess on Cyno’s behalf which he felt so terrible for. It wasn’t his place to tell you how Cyno felt, but it was why he was avoiding you.

You asked about him- what he felt and he bashfully admitted he, too, felt something for you. He tried to make it seem like it was just a little playground crush, but you could tell it was full blown love. You decided all three of you needed to talk together. You hunted down Cyno and basically demanded he meet with you and Tighnari and he did without hesitation.

You confessed that you had feelings for both of them and didn’t really want to choose. They were both stunned and stumbled on their words, unsure of what to say.

It took a bit of talking but at the end of it, both Cyno and Tighnari were ok with you either picking one of them… or being with both of them. You, of course, went with the latter.

This relationship was mainly with you and not as much Cyno and Tighnari. So, for the most part Cyno and Tighnari were just “sharing” you. A term they’re not the biggest fan of. It took some time before the two realized their feelings for one another.

According to them, they originally felt something but assumed it was just their friendship. Like yanno… they were super closer.

But after being with you though- knowing they were romantically attracted to you- they started realizing their feelings for one another were extremely similar. For example, Cyno wanted to kiss you all the time and he wanted to kiss Tighnari all the time. But he wouldn't kiss Kaveh and that let him know it wasn't just a normal friendship.

So, this led to them talking about trying out a relationship with one another as well. That went extremely well, actually. Though, they still find themselves doting on you the most.

[bodyhopper-files]

Impersonating Ashton

When I found out I could possess other people's bodies, my first target was an obvious one. Ashton Keller—the blonde-haired jock with an athlete's physique who always seemed to enjoy tormenting me in school. So, I thought what better way to get even than to take over his body?

But as soon as I entered and felt the power of his bulging biceps and oozing charisma, I realized my plans had shifted. Being Ashton Keller was intoxicating; his confidence was thorough and his sexuality was primal. I wanted this sensation for myself, not just temporarily, but forever.

With Ashton's killer smile and imposing physique, I had an indescribable sense of power that only added to my determination: I was going to steal his body and life permanently.

I began to use my powers to manipulate those around me so they would think I was Ashton, and it was even easier than I expected. People believed what I said and trusted me when I used Ashton's face and borrowed freely from his sterling reputation in town.

I made sure to research Ashton's life as much as possible as I fully assumed his identity; I had to know everything about him if I wanted people to think I was really him. From his favorite team sports, hobbies, attitude and behavior—I needed to be able to mimic them all flawlessly.

For hours upon hours each day, I practiced in front of a mirror perfecting my impersonation of the cocky jock.

I practiced his mannerisms, his innate gestures and movements. I practiced the way he walked, always strutting along with a swagger that turned heads. I imagined my feet were springs and let the athletic energy of each step flow through my body while I looked straight ahead, not at the ground like I usually did when walking.

Then it was time to practice talking. Ashton had a certain smoothness when he talked—it was as if every word was carefully chosen—and I wanted to make sure I could imitate it perfectly. So, whenever someone tried to start up a conversation with me, instead of nervously stumbling over my words as usual, I answered with a confident, effortless flow that left people mesmerized and attracted.

As I continued to practice Ashton's smirk, grin, laugh and even his signature move—the quick flick of his head to the side and a playful bounce of the pecs, sure to catch anyone's attention—I was starting to feel more and more like him. I had become so comfortable in his body that I could no longer tell the difference between us.

Soon enough, I began following Ashton's daily routine as if it were my own. I started wearing clothes just like he did, lifting weights in the gym to build up muscle mass, and even began eating the same food he ate. I also made sure to go to all the same parties and social events that Ashton attended, so I could become a master of adaptation in any situation.

Every night before bed, I would read from Ashton’s journal, browse through his phone, and dig through the files on his computer to learn everything that I could about him which he might have otherwise held private.

Every detail of my new identity had been meticulously examined until I felt comfortable enough to test it in the open—at first with small things such as ordering food at a café while using Ashton's distinct voice and practiced grin, or chatting with his friends in passing about the recent game like I was a lifelong fan.

The more I got into the swing of things, the more I embraced my new self. It felt like second nature to me now and I knew by committing myself so completely to this new life, no one could ever know that it hadn't always been mine.

One year later, I had fully assumed a new life for myself being Ashton Keller, the sexy, confident jock. I had come a long way from my original, awkward self and no trace remained of my former identity as I had completely taken over Ashton's body and life.

People around me never questioned me or suspected that the real Ashton was someone else entirely; nobody knew but me.

And I never looked back.

THE END

[heartfullofleeches]

Oooh, could we get some headcanons for Alien and reader if they've been friends since childhood??

"Hello... My name is Y/n. I live over there, and I always see you by yourself when I come home from school. Wanna hang out?"

".....Hssssss"

Alien was an absolutely feral, yet timid kid. They were about five when they were adopted, but they don't recall anything before they were rescued from the abandoned building they were found in. To hide their features, their parent spun a tale of them being disfigured in an accident and made them wear a prosthetic mask which they hated. Because they were impossible to handle with it on, they were homeschooled majority of their adolescent years.... then they met you.

The start of your relationship would be a bit rough. Alien couldn't speak more than a few words during the adjustment period of their new life, and the limited speech they did learn was thrown out the window in favor of perfecting ways to copy the sounds of all the creatures around them. They could perfectly mimic the yapping dog from down the street, and the strange clicks made by creatures like the yautja from predator. They studied you from afar because they always knew they weren't "normal" and wanted to be like the kids on tv and in public.

The day your paths first cross, and a full week after, Alien turns tail and hides under their porch. It was due to their timidity, and following the rules their parents gave them by hiding whenever someone comes near. Their stomach felt weird when you smiled at them and they hated that too. They finally cross the bridge to friendship when you eventually give up or no longer look their way. The feeling in their gut when that happens is worse than all the others - it hurts. They pluck a fresh head of lettuce from their mother's garden and head on over - taking a large bite and offering the unbitten side to you.

For a while, Alien does what they did best at the time and copies you. It help tremendously with their development. Walking on two feet instead of their hands, holding a fork the same way you did instead of shoving everything in their mouth with their fingers. Their speech gets better when they copy your hellos and look over your shoulder while you're doing school work. They initially hate school because it takes away your time together... But if they went with you then you'd never be apart.

"Human School! Y/n! I want to go to School with Y/n! Human school for a human boy!"

"But darling, you hate wearing your-"

"SCHOOOOL!"

Before everything is finalized, their parents sit you down to explain their situation. As a kid, some parts are probably easier than others, but you promise to look out for them like they ask. They run laps when they find out you have the same class, and bullies your seatmate into giving up their spot. Later on as they become more outgoing, bullying isn't a problem with their charm - not that it was a huge thing without it as one headbutt from them gave a kid a concussion. Throughout the years they acted as your guard dog which lessen in severity as they grew, but never completely died out.

Outside of school, your main hangout spots are in their bedroom or yours. Once they got used to you and had the ability to ramble on, they wouldn't shut up about all the space memorabilia they had. You have steak outs for aliens by their window and sleep overs in the giant, star covered tent in their room.

Alien realizes he's in love with you in middle. While you remained their top priority, they started to branch out and meet new people. One of these people asked them for advice on asking you out. It took three teachers and your arrival to get them off the poor kid. They don't know what happened. They started off by giving them a few pointers, but as the conversation went on all they could picture was you doing everything you did with them with this stranger. Ditching him for them and holding their hand in the halls. Graduating and starting a life together. That first kiss.

And everything went dark.

Since all they had really done was shout at the kid and thrown a few punches at the ground instead of their head he got easy. Few inches east and they'd be facing a murder charge. Alien didn't care. They had these possibly decade long feelings clawing their way to the surface and it was tearing them up inside. From them writing your combined initials as writing practice as a kid, it's safe to say they've always seen to in a different light. It wasn't until picturing you moving on with someone else that they realized that buzz from the romance between the blood and gore of the horror flicks you watched was from wanting to kiss you like it was the end of the world too. They now know why they've kept every gum wrapper you've ever held in a shoebox under their bed. These feelings they have for you are the most human thing they've ever experienced, but it still felt beyond the human concept of love.

Closer to present day, Alien confess on the last day of highschool. They've been pushing it off for so long, and likely hurting you in the process for getting rid of potential love interests behind the scenes. They want that picture perfect highschool sweetheart dream. Getting jobs at the theater together and fooling around on breaks. Moving in into some apartment and planning out the layout of your future home. Hunting for solid evidence of aliens and laying together beneath the blanket of the stars.

If you reject them, they'll understand. They continue to be your friend and mend their broken heart - by making sure you never have the chance of giving yours to alone living being again. Maybe after they console you on the fifth rejection you'll finally come around

[calypsopoet2003]

Donna Casts Her Spell...

I am, & have been a Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave for over 40 years... When I was 14 years old, my best friend's Mom (& my own Mom's best friend) had caught me ogling her, & without my realizing it, had used my fascination with her beautiful pantyhosed legs & feet to drop me into a deep hypnotic trance...

Her name was Donna... She was a nurse in a nursing home, & unbeknownst to me she was also a Board Certified Master Hypnotist. Donna was in the habit of hypnotizing everyone she came into contact with without them being aware of it. She did this in order to stay adept in her craft, & to maintain a modicum of control over situations or scenarios where she may benefit if she were to exhert her influence.

That fateful day, my life had completely changed. I had no idea that I had been hypnotized, nor did I remember gazing helplessly at Donna's pantyhosed legs & feet... I didn't notice that I was missing about an hour & a half from that day either. However, out of nowhere I had new "thoughts" & "ideas" regarding Donna...

These "thoughts" & "ideas" were such as I had never before even considered, but somehow they seemed like I had always had them even though they were brand new. Such as how fascinating I found Donna's pantyhosed legs & feet to be, & how I thought her face & eyes were very pretty, even beautiful.

I came to realize that I was very attracted to Donna, & had come to realize she was absolutely beautiful. She was also kind, caring, honest, highly intelligent, very wise, & trusting to a fault. I could & should tell her anything & everything, & must always believe everything she ever said to me.

Month after month, these "thoughts" & "ideas" grew & matured into what I initially thought of as simply having a crush on my best friend's Mom... I figured I would get over it, & pretend like it never happened when I did. However, I just couldn't take my eyes off of her whenever I saw her, & found myself hanging on every word she said to me... More often than not I wouldn't even remember our conversations, but found myself craving more, always wanting only to be in her presence, listening to her, & finding ways to please her.

Encounter after encounter, I just grew more & more helplessly attracted to, & fell more & more deeply in love with her. I couldn't resist the urges to be in her presence, to obey her, or to worship her, which were constant, & ever present... Flashes of my memories had seemed more like dreams, or fantasies, & were deemed as such.

Donna never ceased giving to me what she had so effectively taught me, & hypnotically trained me to crave & desire... Over & over again, whenever I gazed upon her beautiful face, or even more so her perfect Pantyhosed legs & feet, filled with love & longing, she would luxuriate as I touched, caressed, nuzzled, kissed, tasted, & took in her scent as I worshipped them.

I never had any conscious memories of any of these events. Only in my dreams & fantasies was I availed with such notions. It got to the point that I was in a constant state of deep hypnotic trance whenever I was in her presence, & when I wasn't in any sort of trance when she was nowhere around, Donna was still my Mistress... I would forever hear & obey... She was the Light, white & pure, & she was perfect in every way...

I believed that it was perfectly normal for me to be crushing so hard in Donna... I believed that everyone else, male & female alike should as well... It simply made perfect sense for everyone to love & worship her, since she was the smartest, & most beautiful woman in the world. She was kind, compassionate, & honest to a fault. She was the most important person in my life, & should be the most important person in everyone else's lives too.

It took about a year, to a year & a half of Donna's repeated hypnotic ministrations before I had fully accepted & embraced Donna as my Mistress. From then on, asleep, in trance, or awake I was entirely hers mind, body, & soul. That is when she took the next step to ensure my permanent rapturous silken servitude to her for the rest of my life.

A couple of weeks before Christmas a little more than a year into Donna's hypnotic tutelage, I had stopped over their house one Saturday afternoon to drop off a small Christmas present I had picked up for her son. She happened to be the only one home, but she had invited me in. I seemed to have caught her when she had just gotten home from work, as she was wearing her nurse's whites, her bare white pantyhosed feet sticking out of her white slacks...

When I told Donna that I had a Christmas present for her son, her reaction was as intense as it was glorious & sublime! First she stepped in & kissed me deeply. I was simply an extension of her will, under her thrall, my mind blank of everything except for pleasure & obedience... I then followed her down the hall, & into the bathroom.

When the door closed behind us, she undressed me from the waist down. She then pulled a soft, silky, pair of her white pantyhose off of the hook on the back of the door, & she touched & caressed my face with them... The feel & the scent of them drove me wild with longing for only her.

The next thing I knew we were both standing there wearing only our white pantyhose from the waist down... Holding each other, kissing deeply, as she rubbed her pantyhosed self against mine. Nylon against nylon, she caressed every pantyhosed part of me with every pantyhose covered part of her.

I was a pantyhosed extension of her will & labido, & she was the reason I existed. I understood that I would always wear her pantyhose for her, & I was now, & always would be her Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave. I loved Donna with all my heart, & I belonged to her completely. All must obey, worship, & belong to my Mistress... All must wear her white pantyhose for her, love & adore her as I do, & obey.

Donna's power & influence seemed absolute. There wasn't anyone she couldn't or didn't control, though she had become considerably more selective in whom she hypnotically enslaved in her pantyhose after me. I was her very first hypnotized pantyhose slave, & the only male she had ever enslaved. She enslaved females a little differently than how she had enslaved me. She made me fall in love with her, desiring only her, & made me want only to please, obey, & worship my Mistress.

Donna's female hypnotized pantyhose slaves, one & all wanted to be one with her, & were made to be extensions of their Goddess. Though, we were all members of her hypnotized pantyhose harem. We all wore her pantyhose at all times, only taking them off when soiled, & to put new ones on.

I continued to live my life, only I now wore Donna's white pantyhose under whatever I was wearing at all times. The only exceptions were when I was bathing, wearing shorts, or had to be barefoot in public. This was why all of Donna's other slaves were female, so they wouldn't have restrictions like I did. However, my shoes, socks, & sometimes even my pants & underwear flew off of me when I was in her presence...

She often pushed this to the limits, & beyond... By doing so, her influence & control over me became stronger, more complete, & unbreakable. One such encounter was a Friday afternoon when I had come home from school, & I was greeted by Donna & my Mom... Well, mostly Donna, resplendent in her skirted nurse's whites, shoeless in he shiny white pantyhose...

My Mom never even looked at me, as she was gazing helplessly at Donna... Donna had jumped up from her seat as I had entered, & said...

"Welcome Home, my Love! How was your day?! I bet you are so very glad to be home with your Mum & me..."

I just barely had enough wherewithal to glance toward my "Mum" sitting across the table from, & gazing rapturously at Donna... I also noticed her bare, white Pantyhosed feet sticking out of her slacks... Donna continued as my gaze swung back to, & locked on to her...

"I see you noticed that your Mum belongs to me now, in a more similar way as you do... Unlike my other slaves who are more like drones, extensions of me. You are both mine out of your undying love for me."

Suddenly, "Mum" & I were wearing only white pantyhose from the waist down, kneeling before Donna, kissing, nuzzling, & worshiping her beautiful pantyhosed feet as she continued...

"Your Mum & I were just visiting, as I stopped over on my way home from work... We thought you would benefit from coming home with me to help me take care of a few things... You desperately want to come home with me, don't you sweet heart?"

Donna pulled he feet back, &: reinserted them each between our legs, caressing us to climax for her... We both responded simultaneously...

"Yes, Mistress!"

I never even redressed, as I simply picked up my clothes & carried them with me as I followed her to her car... We arrived at the house, & went in through her garage... I followed her up the stairs, & into her living room, where we worshipped each other's pantyhose covered bodies, bringing each other to orgasm, after orgasm, after orgasm for the rest of the day...

There were always many family parties, functions, & holiday celebrations where Donna would have every man, & woman wearing her shiny white pantyhose under or with whatever they were wearing. No one would be wearing their shoes either! Also, no one would notice except for those of us who already belonged to Donna, mind, panyhosed body, & soul.

Going back to the Christmas Eve where Donna had taught me how to truly kiss a woman, to properly kiss her, was the most glorious event in my life... I was in my bedroom playing guitar, keeping out of my folks way as they got ready, & waiting for guests to arrive. Suddenly, my door opened & shut immediately behind Donna as she snuck into my room. She must have came directly from work, as she was wearing her skirted nurse's whites, & was shoeless in her shiny white pantyhosed feet...

She rushed in & came around the bed to sit right next to me... As she did so, I quickly stood, took off my pants to expose my shiny white pantyhose for her, as she managed to lose her skirt as well... Donna had kissed me deeply before, but I really had no idea what I was doing. She kissed me deeply again as she rubbed & caressed our pantyhosed lower bodies against each other. Amidst our kissing & frolicking, she said...

"Merry Christmas, my Love... Now I want you to listen carefully, & obey... I want you to Kiss me with all the love in your heart for me... Kiss me. Slowly, take your time, there's no place you'd rather be. Kiss me, but not like you're waiting for something else, like your hands beneath my shirt or my skirt or tangled up in my bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss me like you've forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss me with a curious childish delight. Laugh into my mouth, inhale my sighs. Kiss me until I moan. Kiss me with my face in your hands. Or your hands in my hair. Or pulling me closer at the waist. Kiss me like you want to take me dancing. Like you want to spin me into an open arena and watch me look at you like you're the brightest thing I've ever seen. Kiss me like I'm the brightest thing you've ever seen. Take your time. Kiss me like the first and only piece of chocolate you're ever going to taste. Kiss me until I forget how to count. Kiss me stupid. Kiss me silent. Come away, ask me what 2+2 is and listen to me say your name in answer."

I had no other choice or desire but to obey... I had never been so aroused & never more completely under her spell... It was so intense that I climaxed several times throughout or kissing alone, as she did... The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor at Donna's feet, kissing & worshipping them while surrounded by all of the other women at the party, including my "Mum", aunts, cousins, & girlfriends of my friends in attendance elsewhere in the house. Every single one of us were shoeless wearing shiny white pantyhose, completely under Donna's spell.

So many times I was suddenly compelled to stop by her house... I would simply go inside & down the stairs to join several white pantyhosed women in worshiping our Goddess until she climaxed... We would then bring each other to orgasm for Donna... Never once would we remove our pantyhose, as they intensified all physical sensations a hundred fold!

My "Mum's" 40th Surprise Birthday Party was the one "family" event that Donna hostessed for our family. She was practically a family member herself, as all of us were under her hypnotic away, only my "Mum" & I were her's completely though. My Dad & each of my brothers had no idea that they owned pairs of my Mistress's white pantyhose for when she decided to temporarily take complete control of them.

None of my aunts or cousins did either, but they all would definitely show up to Donna's house wearing them, believing that it was simply appropriate & even expected to do so. White pantyhosed feet were exposed for everyone in attendance, male & female alike. When Donna arrived with my "Mum", & "SURPRISE!" was shouted by all, the party truly got underway!

At one point, I was cornered by Donna on the landing while I was in my way upstairs... she smiled at me & asked me if I liked what she was wearing... She had on a beautiful light blue silk dress & the shiniest, silkiest most beautiful white pantyhose I had ever seen her wear... I redponded...

"Yes, Mistress... You are beyond perfect, & are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen..."

She had me follow her into the bathroom, closed the door behind us, & hanging on the back of the door was a pair of the same shiny white pantyhose as she was wearing... She had me strip completely from the waist down, & helped me into the new pair of pantyhose.

The new pantyhose were different from anything I had ever worn... They had a pouch & a sheath that wrapped my sex perfectly, & seemed to keep all of it perfectly erect & functional, just encased in the softest, silkiest, most perfect fitting pantyhose... Donna explained that these pantyhose, when worn by a woman, had the sheath & pouch tucked inside filling the woman, & instantly enslaving anyone & everyone she was with for her Mistress...

Right then, for the very first time ever, I entered my Goddess... As she rode me, I had kissed her as she had taught me long ago. It seemed to last forever, & at the same time for only just a fleeting moment. It all culminated in the greatest orgasmic climax of my life, before or since... It was so powerful, that we both passed out right there in the bathroom.

When we came too, we managed to pull ourselves together without coming into contact, where we would end up passing out again. When we opened the door to egress, my beautiful aunt was standing there, eyes wide, staring at us... Donna immediately dropped her ever deeper into her trance, & brought Pattie into the bathroom with us.

Pattie was so deeply hypnotized that she instantly switched out of her pantyhose for the new special pair Donna had given her, right in front of us. Watching her smooth them on, & her rapturous reaction as she tucked in the pantyhose's center into her was extremely arousing to the both of us. It was as if Donna's spell on Pattie spilled over taking all of us over. We couldn't resist worshiping her, being worshipped by her, & taking her as we had been taking each other. Donna couldn't resist making my beautiful aunt a permanent Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave...

Donna had left us alone in the bathroom for a few minutes, & we couldn't help but ravage each other while she was gone. Wearing these pantyhose, we were meant to be joined together in our Mistress's pantyhose sexual bliss... I belonged inside of her, & inside of our Mistress... We chanted our Goddess's name as we made love in worship of her... "Donna... Donna... Donna..." Over, & over again... "Donna! Donna! Donna!" We couldn't stop, & kept going at it until we climaxed together in massive orgasms that made use pass out together as well...

We came to, both on the bathroom floor, & both blindly ravaging our Mistress as we had just done to each other. Almost as soon as I entered Donna, with my mouth on Patty where I had previously entered her, a massive light blinded us as the most sublime pleasure I had ever felt in my life made the world blink out & go both silent & dark.

The next morning, I was standing in Donna's kitchen making coffee as, Donna was buttering toast, & my aunt was at the stove making eggs for all of us. We were all still in our pantyhose, & wearing matching short nighties... I was still, & perhaps permanently fully erect, & it was extremely difficult for me not to enter either, or both of the perfect women I was with. Donna had told us that it took her over an hour to "adjust" everyone's memories so that no one would see my aunt & I last night, or miss us today, & maybe tomorrow.

We spent the rest of the day, & all of the next night bringing each other to orgasmic pantyhose ecstasy. Passing out in a tangle of each other's pantyhose clad bodies, & waking up only to start ravaging each other over again, & again.

I had witnessed Donna manage to covertly entrance & hypnotize every guest, wedding party included, at my brother's wedding. An hour into the reception, every single guest, male & female alike was wearing Donna's special shiny white pantyhose, & remained shoeless for the duration of the wedding.

Donna had used me to help convert several of the most attractive female guests into the newest of her Hypnotized Pantyhose Slaves. No one could resist Donna's charms, & everyone had no choice but to believe everything she said, & obey anything she asked of them. Several of us were kneeling at her feet at all times, fawning over our Goddess...

She wore a yellow dress with a front slit that went nearly to her waist... She sat regally, shiny white pantyhose covered legs alluringly crossed, & was so beautiful that it was impossible for anyone who so much as glanced at her not to fall under her spell...

At first I had suspected, but eventually found out for certain that Donna had enslaved a handful of the women at the company I worked for... More, & more I began to notice my female coworkers wearing pantyhose, as I was now hard wired to notice such things. Then, it became more, & more common of a practice to go shoeless in their stocking feet around the office...

Eventually, several of them took to wearing shiny white pantyhose exclusively, under or with anything they wore to the office... These women were all very close work friends, & had been as of late starting to seem a little more than friendly without any of them overtly crossing any lines...

Many of them had first taken to going shoeless when wearing pantyhose in the office areas, but that seemed to be more a sign of the times. I was friends outside of work with all of them, & had noticed that all of them were now in the habit of wearing pantyhose with almost anything they were wearing whenever even remotely appropriate...

Patricia from Customer Service seemed to be the first to embrace this new pantyhose culture, & also began to act more, & more seductively dominant. She was very flirty at a company Christmas Party, one time... She had playfully cornered me at one point, as she sidled up to me wearing a stunning black dress, & Wes barefoot in her shiny black semi-opaque pantyhose...

She looked into my eyes, smiled, & then playfully dragged her nails up my arm as I felt her soft silky foot slide up my pant leg... She said...

"That's right... Just relax... You can, you know... I have permission, & you really can't resist..." Then she gave me a small, sensual, yet discrete kiss on the lips, & then breathed into my ear... "...forget."

Standing at the bar, I realized I had zoned out. I couldn't remember what I was doing, or why I was so aroused suddenly. When I went home, I had some vivid dreams about Donna & Patricia kissing, their pantyhosed legs caressing each other, black against white.

I didn't understand the dream, but I definitely liked it very much. Business as usual at work, & as I was as keen on women in pantyhose as always, I couldn't help but notice how more & more of the most attractive women at work were now always taking to wearing them at work, & without shoes whenever possible.

I was in almost a constant state of arousal all day long, every day at work. Patricia was acting more, & more flirty, but was acting as if it was just innocent playful banter between friends. Then I was over her house one day, as she had offered to cut my hair.

She actually had a barber's chair, as she used to be a barber at one time in her past. She was still wearing what she wore to work, white silk blouse, black slitted pencil skirt, & she was again barefoot in shiny black opaque pantyhose...

I was massively turned on, but was a bit confused as she wasn't Donna. As she was cutting my hair, she kept brushing against me with her arms,her breasts, & her beautiful pantyhosed legs. At one point, when I was barely breathing, & ready to explode due to the exquisite torture she was teasing me with. She whispered into my ear...

"Donna is our Mistress..." ...to which I had no choice, but to chant with her... "We wear her pantyhose, we hear, & we obey... Donna is the Light, white & pure, perfect in every way..."

I fell into a deep hypnotic trance for Patricia, as I had for Donna for many years... Patricia continued...

"That's right... You can't fight it... You can't resist... You have no choice but to obey me in the name of Donna... Disrobe for me from the waist down..."

She was right, I couldn't resist, suddenly we were both clad in only our shiny pantyhose from the waist down. Her pantyhose were a black version of mine. She looked into my eyes with a desperate look of need on her lovely face, pulled me to her, & before I knew it I was somehow inside of her.

Neither of us could fight what was happening, & we didn't want to. Somehow we knew that this was Donna's will, & we had no choice, no desire than to obey. The pleasure in each of us seemed to increase exponentially as we rode each other chanting our Mistress's name over, & over again: "Donna! Donna! Donna!" We ravaged each other, & as we did the pleasure built until nothing else existed other than the white pantyhose perfection of Donna...

I came to, & I was wearing only my panyltyhose, as I was worshiping the perfect pantyhosed foot of my Goddess, Donna... Next to me, Patricia was doing exactly the same as I was, only her pantyhose were now white like Donna's & mine. Donna said to us...

"Patricia, now that you are mine completely in every way, you will use my loving enslaved adopted son to bring certain others to me... You both love only me & mine, & live only to serve me & mine, just as you are both mine & part of me... I am your world, & your universe. I am all that matters & exists."

The last thing I remember was sliding inside of my Goddess with Patricia sliding against me in pure pantyhosed bliss... The world exploded into a billion shards of light & went black.

Weeks later, I walked into Customer Service & I was greeted by Patricia... She was barefoot in her white pantyhose, & looked like she was in a very deep trance... She said my name, & sighed, & then she continued in a sexy monotone voice with...

"You must take off your shoes & come with me... We must obey, serve, & attend to our Mistress..."

I felt myself drop into a deep hypnotic trance. I then removed my shoes & socks, & dutifully padded after Patricia into the back Sales Manager's office. Inside, Donna was sitting next to Michelle, the beautiful daughter of the owner of the company... They were both wearing shiny black pantyhose, & Michelle had looked to be in a very deep hypnotic trance, & was slowly unzipping & removing her boots.

Patricia & I removed everything we were wearing from our waist down except for our pantyhose, & stood witness at deeply hypnotized attention... Donna & Michelle removed their skirts, & faced each other, each with one Pantyhosed foot caressing between the other's legs, while worshipping the other...

After a while, Donna held a hand out to me & both Patricia & I approached... I took Donna's hand, & as she swung herself up & on to me, Patricia took her place with Michelle... Once I slid inside of Donna, it was like returning home after being away for many years, yet at the same time I felt levels of pleasure & desire beyond anything I had ever felt before, even for my Goddess...

I was suddenly deeper in her thrall than I had ever been, & I continued to slide in & out of her until the world ended, & the universe blinked out. When I came to, I was buried deep inside of Michelle, & we were both screaming Donna's name as we climaxed together, & again the universe blinked out.

I woke again thrusting in & out of my Goddess, as Patricia & Michelle were worshipping her feet. I was once again more enthralled, aroused, & devoted than I have ever been in my life. Only Donna & her hypnotized pantyhose slaves existed... I lived, & continue to live to serve my Mistresses & my Goddess...

*FLASH!*

Standing before my Goddess, wearing only her beautiful soft, shiny, silky, white pantyhose... I was fully erect, standing at attention, & in the deepest of hypnotic trances. Despite the fact that Donna no longer needed to hypnotize me, as I now belonged completely to her in every way... Donna often placed me into deeper, & deeper hypnotic trances, pushing all limits as to how deeply hypnotized a subject can be. Thus far, it seemed as if she had succeeded in hypnotizing me deeper than anyone in recorded history.

I was surrounded by several fellow very deeply hypnotized Pantyhosed slave sisters. My purpose was literally to be Donna's "Key" to unlocking the next level of pantyhosed bliss & servitude to several of our Goddess's earlier Hypnotized Pantyhose Slaves that hadn't yet been gifted her new special permanent that will elevate their love for Donna from Mistress to Goddess.

Two of her son's prior girlfriends, Michelle & Tina... Stephanie, a friend's girlfriend... ...& Patricia from work we're all there... Patricia had helped the others change into the new pantyhose, led Stephanie to me. I slid my pantyhosed key into her pantyhosed lock, & we both climaxed together shortly after we started. Stephanie passed out, & was brought back awake, & then brought to orgasm again by Patricia & Donna...

Then it was Michelle's turn, & after Michelle was welcomed into Donna's inner harem, it was Tina's turn to become perfect. Donna is my Goddess, I hear & I obey... She is the Light, white & pure, perfect in every way...

*FLASH!*

At my brother's wedding, Donna approaches me from across the room, resplendent in her long yellow dress with a high upper thigh slit in the front showing off her beautiful perfect shiny, silky white pantyhosed legs & feet. She sat right next to me at my table, & immediately began rubbing & caressing my legs & groin with her soft silky pantyhosed foot under the tablecloth.

She made me climax over & over again, & had other conquests, new & old, come over & keep me thus occupied for over an hour at the reception. I spent the last hour of the reception buried deep inside of her until we climaxed in the pantyhosed bliss of my eternal love & devotion to my Goddess...

*FLASH!*

My face was buried in the pantyhosed ecstasy that is between my Goddess's thighs, while my own engorged pantyhosed excitement is sliding in & out of someone else's pantyhosed ecstasy... No cares, no thoughts, only pure intense exquisite pleasure, & blissful obedience...

*FLASH!*

Christmas Eve with my girlfriend & her beautiful 18 year old daughter, Chiara was spent at my buddy's house... Donna was holding court, & Chiara appeared to be fascinated by the attention being lavished on her by my Goddess... After making a couple of circuits around the party, I noticed Chiara looking even more enthralled by Donna's attention.

Donna was wearing her shiny black pantyhose that night, & Chiara's suntan pantyhose seemed to have been replaced for a pair that matched Donna's. Once I watched Chiara slide off of the couch to the floor, kneeling at Donna's feet, I decided to head in that direction.

As I approached, Donna looked up at me & into my eyes... I froze before her, & sat on the floor next to where Chiara was kneeling... Chiara & I turned & faced each other,

[hanasnx]

that's exactly what tf i'm talking about, BIG DICK ENERGY. and not toji fixing shit around the house during the party, imagine his cocky ass interrupting you mid-conversation, calling your mother by her first name and asking her which one of the outlets she needs him to fix? or asking your dad where he left the toolbox? and you're seething the entire fucking time, because you know he's showboating just to make your new fling uncomfortable, but just seeing how easy it is for him to do so and how much your family loves him makes you all the more agitated.

it absolutely would end in angry sex, you'd be ready to burst by the time you're finally able to get him alone to chew him out. it would most definitely have to be outside because you'd wake your parents up, and i doubt either of you would be able to wait long enough to drive back to your place either- so he's got you bent over the hood of his car at first, showing you how much he missed you, but quickly pulls you into his backseat when he hears the neighbors garage door open. yes, the old neighbor lady knows him too and loves him. but it gives you the chance to take control and release your frustrations, riding him as you curse at him, only for him to coo at you and tell you how cute you are when you're mad, not taking you seriously at all.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE

once the two of you finally finish making his car shake, you look around you and notice all the crap littering his back seat. when you ask him why there's baskets of clothes, he says

"What? You expect me to find my own place every time you dump me?"

his cocky ass didn't even bother finding somewhere to live, he's been couch surfing and living in hotels. of course he could afford his own place, but why go through all the trouble when he knew you'd take him back soon enough?

his confidence and the fact that he was right makes you pissed again, muttering and shaking your head at him as he helps you fasten your bra and find your shirt among the mess.

"So when am I moving back in, princess?

since i read this when you sent it in, i have been nonstop thinking about “what? you expect me to find my own place every time you dump me?” truly a banger of a fucking line bcos it was perfectly worded and executed.

calling your mother by her first name. the old lady neighbor knows him and loves him too. he tells you you’re cute when you’re mad. “making the car shake.”

my fucking god these are all great lines. i love this scenario so much.

the friends he couch surfs with are familiar with his situation bcos it’s like “you in the doghouse or something again, toj’?”

“yea, you know how it is. she’s just bein’ bitchy she’ll get over it.” meanwhile you fucking dumped his ass bcos he’s so frustratingly masculine. toxic masculinity like not taking you seriously, always thinking he knows what’s best, effortlessly manipulative etc etc. completely dismissing you acting like you’re gonna come running back one day—and in a way you do when you fuck him in his car. you certainly can’t go back to your skeevy bf after that, toji made sure to leave his mark.

[shittalkcornstalk]

“Take One For The Team”

Part 5

A/n: Ahhhhhhhhh sad! Maybe I wasn’t in the best mood while writing this, but what’s a good Buggy narrative without a little angst? I really thought with the themes manipulation I have set up it’d be so much more interesting for the reader to be the one to get hurt by it first! Next chapter is juicy! I will keep writing. As always feel free to let me know if I missed a warning or if I didn’t do the taglist correctly :)

Synopsis: Your self respect and public perception make you question all your feelings for your Captain. Were you ever in control of the situation?

Warnings- xfemreader! 18+ minors dni, angst ,manipulation, slut shaming, harassment, kissing without consent, internalized self hatred, alcohol, eventual smut, power dynamics

Word Count ~3.8k

Taglist- @fluffybunnyu @fanshavegottensotoxic

Chapter 5 “An Audience”

The next week in the small town was a rabid mix of fluttering emotions. It was kind of crazy how quick seeing Captain Buggy in this new light made you change. You used to be so cynical and sarcastic, mocking and berating your friends and the Captain. You remember the sick feeling you got when you first learned about his desires but now, it has been replaced with butterflies. It felt like you’d become a different person, like a sappy teenage girl again, and you loathed it. You protested to Alvida as you walked to the ship after a small girl’s outing.

“It’s fine… I’m fine…I’m completely normal about him, it’s just a bit of attraction is all, a little crush.” You said lying through your teeth. You desperately wanted to underplay how bad you’d fallen. You’d been so impersonal around your fellow crew before, you didn’t need to be seen as weak.

Alvida smirked and snickered. “Yes, you are the utmost of grace and composure, you would be perfectly unfazed by the clown if you saw him right now…”

Feigning a classy confidence you turn your nose up “That’s right-”

“Then it really wouldn’t matter if I pointed out that-” Alvida nods over to Buggy.

He was on the deck in combat with Cabaji, training his knife skills. His overcoat and hat we tossed aside. He lunged towards Cabaji with great force. You saw how his muscular arms contracted and tightened with each movement. His eyes were determined and his teeth bared in aggression.You hadn’t seen him with his hair down often, but his long ponytail felt like something out of a romance novel protagonist.This burning attraction welled up in you. It left you stammering. He was far too caught up in the moment to notice you were across the deck gawking at him.

“Aren’t you the poster child of composure, get your jaw up before you embarrass yourself even more…” Alvida nudges you and laughs at your expense.

“What? No! I barely even looked at his…rippling arms..or his firm chest..or his-” You feel yourself lose focus again at the sight of Buggy.

“Gross, for both our’s sake I’ll stop you right there.” Alvida cuts you off. “So you’ve developed some feelings for the Captain, that is well evident, why don’t you do something about it, save me from having to hear this conversation again... You are well aware of the Captain’s opinion of you, so what’s stopping you? What happened to that flirtatious little minx I schemed with a few weeks ago?” Alvida was exhausted hearing the both of you ramble on like kids about silly crushes. Her impatience with Buggy had well hit it’s breaking point and with you it was getting pretty damn close.

“It’s different now that I actually like him” You half-whine. “I’m worried about looking stupid in front of him”

“Have you met the man?” She spoke flatly. “Honey there’s very little you can do to lose that guy’s image of you, look at him-” She points over to show Buggy has managed to accidentally hoist himself up the mast, tied in a rope, dangling around screaming for someone to cut him down. You would’ve mocked him endlessly in the past for this error but right now all you can do is giggle. He looked so goofy up there.

“You might be a bit right- I’m going to go cut him down…” You walk away from Alvida and approach the dangling Captain. He is flailing around trying to dissect his body in a way that would set him free but with little luck. You call out to him as he makes another attempt. “Hey Buggy do you need some help up there?” You chuckle at the sight.

“Gah y/n! I thought you were out for the afternoon…” He sounds so exposed. You weren’t supposed to see this. The rope contracted one more time before his head popped off at the shock of your sudden appearance. It falls down and you manage to catch him before hitting the ground. His head in your hands he looks up at you with a bright red face.

“Are you alright Captain?’ You look down at him, your fingered just slightly nestled in the back of his head, his hair really is soft.

“Yes, very fine y/n, I actually was just doing a safety demonstration for these idiots about tying down any ropes to avoid this very situation-” He puffed, you didn’t buy it for a second, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

‘How very conscientious of you Captain Buggy” You say with a smile. “Don’t worry I’ll cut you down-” You take his head into one arm tightly and climb up the mast to the rest of Buggy’s body. Buggy is held tightly as you use your free arm to slash through the ropes. If it were up to him he wouldn’t leave this close encounter. His face buried in your chest taking in all your scents, his forehead pressing very conveniently on your soft exposed skin. It was worth making himself look like a fool for just this. You saw his body reconnect as the ropes dropped, his head lingering for just a moment before popping back in at the neck. You hadn’t clocked just how pressed his face was to you until you noticed a bit of smeared paint on your chest. Buggy saw it almost immediately taking a deep breath.

“Sorry Captain, I didn't realize how tightly I was holding on to your head! I hope your makeup didn’t get ruined…”

“Don’t worry about it…” His voice sounded distant, he was lost in his train of impure thoughts.

“Are you feeling okay Captain, it looks like the blood is rushing to your head…” Some concerned crew members called out.

He walks away a bit dazed. “It's definitely rushing somewhere…” He mumbles to himself as he leaves for his private quarters to save himself from further embarrassment.

You stay behind and help clean up some of the loose rope on the ground walking them to a scrap pile. You feel a pat on your back as two crew men laugh openly.

“Thank god you were here to help the Captain yet again- what would we do without you y/n” He speaks jokingly.

“Yeah could you imagine how much pissier he’d be without you around-” The other remarks.

“Mhm, well I try to be a good crewmate when I can be…” You try to wave off some of the mocking energy in the room. You didn’t love what they were implying about you, even if it was a half truth.

“Well keep it up girly, for all our sake…” The two snicker, one pats you a little too low on your back for your liking.

You’d been accustomed to a pirate’s sense of humor at this point. Well aware of how to joke at another's expense. You’ve had Buggy’s men call you all sorts of demeaning names. You’ve been called a bitch, you’ve had shots taken at your appearance, your intelligence, but this felt different. Maybe because it was a little true. You did keep Buggy entertained and he hired you with that in mind. You were eye candy to the man even if you proved to be a good pirate. You had to learn that, but those two men who barely knew you, already were well aware of your role with the captain. They didn't need to hear your private conversations, they didn't need to be one of his trusted right hand men to know. Buggy had marked you as his from the very beginning to everyone else on the crew while you were none the wiser.

The rest of the week made you hyper aware of how the other men looked at your interactions with Buggy. Mumbled whispers and knowing glances were passed around at meals when you sat next to the Captain. You’d never noticed how front and center you were next to Buggy at dinner, until all those knowing eyes sat on you waiting for you to do your job. You didn’t sit next to him after that. You’d planned to confess to the man at the end of the week and you refused to have an audience.

Buggy's crew celebrated the last night on this island before the dreaded expanse of sea with drinking and partying. Many were trying to get their last chance at some action with any woman they ran into. You’d seen this act before and it was always so pitiful. Usually it was an act of desperation, these men wanted a woman's company so bad, but it never seemed to affect you. Sure you had your private room which avoided any awkward scenarios, but Buggy's men never even really fully acknowledged you beyond being a fellow crewmate for reasons you were now well aware of. You plopped down at the Captain’s booth along with a couple familiar faces and some others who you were less acquainted with. Cabaji and Moji were talking together ignoring whatever tirade the captain was going on about. As he saw you get closer he pulled you in a bit.

"You should’ve seen it y/n monsters the size of ships, twice the size even, and your fearless captain was taking them all down with a butter knife no less!” He obviously added some embellishments, but you still laughed along. He continued with these tales of him as a young pirate, no crew with a rinky dink ship. “ I had to go through it all alone, but it was the only way to do it!” He laughs out and slams his empty beer mug on the table. You’d also finished what you'd been drinking in the time it took for him to finish his stories.

"Why don't I freshen us up?” You smile and grab both glasses.

“Sounds great sweetheart!” He pats you on the back roughly taking the wind out your sails. His eyes follow you to the bar. The men around him start mumbling something but you are too far to hear anything. Buggy looks over to you, cups his hand over his mouth leaning into his audience. Whatever he said got a raucous applause from the crewmates and Buggy leaned back to take it all in.

You headed back over with the drinks and sat yourself back down to the captain’s side. He grabs the beer and sloshes it down. He looks at you, face flushed from what you presumed to be the alcohol running through his system, only proving to be more true when he leaned into and you could smell it on him.

“Beers great but it can’t beat the shit I’ve got back on the ship, you’d love it, remind me to let you try it when we get back- hic -” He leans into you more with his arms moving dangerously low on your back.

“Buggy I think you’ve had plenty” You laugh it off. He's been drunker before, but he’s not usually this handsy. You were hoping this would be a sign to slow down.

“Cmon baby- I know my limits! I was just telling the boys here about the deal I scored in that deal at the weapons and ammunition dealer thanks to my lovely girlfriend~” His arm returns to the small of your back holding you tightly to him. You don’t say anything, that joke was supposed to be just for you two, and he’s shared it to the table with hoots and hollers. “I even got you that pretty little pistol…which I don’t think I’ve been properly thanked for..” He slurs his words and looks at you teasingly.

“Thank you Buggy again, it was a very nice gift.” You feel yourself shrinking.

“Aw what was that! I think I’ve earned a little more than a thank you…” His eyes are indirect, they switch from looking at you and the rest of the people surrounding you. He’s waiting for you. “I know exactly how you can show your appreciation” His gaze darkens as his hand tugs at your chin and your lips meet his. It only lasts for a second, but you can taste the beer and face paint on your lips lingering. He looks back at you and smiles wide. “There, that wasn’t too bad right?” The table bursts into laughter except for a couple people. Cabaji and Moji stare silently realizing the plan has gone too far, and Alvida walks from the scene immediately. You sit there motionless.

In front of people this moment was taken from you, something that was supposed to be special and fulfilling was ripped from your control. It was quick and impersonal, maybe that was for the better, playing it up as a joke.It was your first kiss with the captain and it was to serve what? To let everyone know you were there to give him attention. Maybe you were overthinking it , but seeing a crew's worth of men applaud at your little performance did not sit so right with you. Buggy hired you for this. He hired you to eventually have you and you never really took the time to think about those implications. You took advantage of it and now you even started liking it, but it was a role that was laid out for you from the very beginning. Everyone seemed to know that and Buggy soaked it all up. Gripping your waist tight he looked at you with that stupid big smile. You smile back, but you don't want to. You didn't want to cause a scene so you waited in the moment. Taking it all in the eyes of you you feel your breath quicken. Everything you were doing for him was exposed from the start. You played it up, but the captain wasn't the only one who saw your little outfits and heard your flirty voice. All his men saw that and they had well made up their minds about you. You were there to keep Captain happy, and you did. You did your job. Was this it? You hear the crowd die down and rush for the bathroom.

Looking at yourself it felt different, you felt used and cheap. A toy, a tool, a little dog at his beck and call. Were you ever in control of this? Buggy was your captain and he always got what he wanted, it was only a matter of time before he locked you in too. You hear the door open and rush to a stall to hide, a couple of low ranking men walked into laughing about something..laughing at you.

“Buggy better keep that bitch on a tight leash, gold digging skank is probably gonna jump ship if she finds some deeper pockets-”

“I'm just happy she's actually putting out for him. Tramp was teasing the captain for so long it was giving me blue balls!”

“I'm sure she’s keeping captain plenty taken care of, see they were out all day last week, probably held up in some inn.”

“You're probably right she’s been quiet all night, the poor things throat must be sore!”

The men all toss around these accusations and spit out profanities like it was just all agreed upon knowledge. You were a whore, a gold digger, Buggy’s property. You wanted to be somewhere else, you wanted to be anyone else in this moment, Anyone but his… You hear them leave and make your way to the ship after rushing through the crowds of the bar. Buggy and the others celebrated as if nothing happened. You duck your head down to go unnoticed and leave out the door. Nobody seemed to notice, but Buggy did. Buggy could always spot you in a crowded room.

You stumble through the streets a little dazed and drunk. You looked around at the warmth of light in the passing houses, but bypassed them all to the dark and empty ship. Making your way up to your room you slam the door behind you and see the small constraint space. You see your outfit for the next day lined up, it feels all too much like a costume to you, short and tight with Buggy’s colors. You toss it to the floor and look at yourself. Makeup rushes down the sides of your face and you rip off the outfit you were wearing to throw on a nightgown. Folding yourself into your bed you clung to your pillow and cried.About an hour in you hear a knock at your door. You try to calm yourself and clear your throat.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Buggy…why'd you leave so soon doll, the fun was just getting started?” He chuckled a bit, but his sobering voice still held some concern. “Listen if it was that bad of a kiss, just forget it, it was just a silly joke…”

“It wasn’t a joke to me-” You swung the door open to meet his gaze. He sees your face all puffy and stained. This was new for him, seeing you break like this. It made his stomach churn.

Buggy didn’t know how to respond, he could clearly hear some bite behind your words. Were you that disgusted by him? It had to be that. He walked deeper into your room and kept his eye contact. You gulp his closeness, you hate how he makes you feel.

“Look, I get it, I’m an old, ugly, clown. I won’t make any more moves on you, it was stupid to even think I had a chance-” He turns to leave and you grab his wrist.

He gives up on you so easily. What is he playing at? Is this a way to make you pity him? Is this just another way for him to manipulate the situation?

“Stop that shit right now, you can’t play these little games with my head-” You yell out at him panicked.

“Y/n what do you mean by that…” He looks at you.

“Ugh! You should know! You’re the one who hired me to be your little toy. You are the one who got me all those presents to woo me over, you are the one who’s spent all this time making it so I’d fall for you so I could fulfill every little freaky fantasy you have. I really like you Buggy, but it's hard to know if that's how I feel, or how I'm supposed to feel-”

Buggy takes a step back, he wanted you to like him back for so long, but now you do and he's being confronted for it. He’s not good in these types of situations.

“I don’t want to be relegated to just the Captain’s slut, when you kissed me in front of everyone… who was that for? Me or just another way to flaunt your power-”

“Slut…No it wasn’t meant to be like that, I just got caught up in the moment, giving the crew a little performance, but I have wanted to kiss you for so long, it just seemed like the only time I had the balls to do it, you couldn't reject me that way”

“Buggy I wouldn’t have rejected you if you tried any other time, I just wanted it to be special…I wanted it to be private.” You get a bit quieter and lower your head in embarrassment.

Buggy’s eyes widen and he takes a stepforward seeing your apprehension. He sees your eyes are misty when he lifts your head up in your hands. He wants this argument to end, he wants to forgive him like nothing. Maybe he’s blinded by the fact you just admitted you liked him back he asks you quietly.

“Would you say no if I asked you to kiss me again?”

You did want to kiss him again, you wanted this from the moment you had realized your feelings. Your cheek nuzzled into his warm and calloused hand. It was just the two of you; quiet and personal. He was looking at you, not with impatience or hurt, just longing. His face stood still and didn't get any closer to you. You leaned in and your lips hovered over his, feeling his breath against yours. He closed his eyes, but nothing else moved. His lip slightly trembled with desire, he was waiting for you. You sigh and place your lips upon his. It was gentle, your mouth parted slightly as you deepened it for just a moment. You turned your head and locked in.Buggy melted onto you, still letting you take the lead. Your hands traced along his neck and hair. You’d always imagined a kiss with a swashbuckling pirate captain would be this intense clashing of teeth and yet this was different. It was a warmth that enveloped tightly and made you feel safer. You took a step back to see Buggy’s lashes fluttering open, his paint smeared. Your head clears feeling yourself come down from the volatile state you were in. You catch your breath and speak directly.

“Buggy I want you, but I can’t be with you if you only see me as a toy-”

“I've been obsessed with you since the day I met ya, you are so much more than that. I don’t know who let you believe all that shit you were spitting off. Y/n I want you to want me more than anything, but I can’t force you to do anything. When I first met you, you were so bold, you didn’t let me get to you. And all these months you never waivered, you never let anything phase you, why is this happening all of a sudden?”

“It was nobody just a couple of guys-”

“What the fuck where they saying about you to get you like this? Do you know their names? I’ll rip out their tongues talking about you like that.” Buggy is quick to break the comfortable silence in the room with blame that isn't placed on him.

You laugh a little at his reaction, putting your hand on his face. “I didn’t get a look at their faces, I’m sure they were nobodies..” You knew they were on Buggy’s crew and you didn't need that blood on your hands.

Buggy turns again to look at you, he barely even noticed you were only in your nightgown until now. Coincidentally he left the rest of the crew at the bar, the ship was still and silent as you looked into his wandering eyes. You see his breath quicken and hands shake as one rests itself on your waist.

“I’d hate to push my luck for a thir-“

[apparitionism]

Bonus 2

Here’s the second part of a holiday story, begun in part 1, about how Myka and Helena, in a vaguely season 4 world in which nobody’s going to go to Boone but through which they have thus far been separated, are reunited for a day-before-Christmas-eve retrieval in Cleveland. Helena has been summoned by Claudia to serve as Myka’s backup, for Pete is spending some holiday time with his family... but as it turns out, the retrieval is necessary because—plot-semi-twist!—Pete Christmas-gifted his cousin, who is a bigwig at an accounting firm, with an artifact, a pen that apparently has something to do with Santa’s naughty/nice list. Which said cousin used to confer end-of-year bonuses—and penalties. As this part opens, Myka is just beginning to process the fact that the whole situation is Pete’s fault...

(And no, I didn’t manage to bring this thing in for a landing in this part. Nobody faint from the surprise.)

Bonus 2

“Okay,” Myka acknowledges, because what else can she do? The fact is that in any Warehouse-related context, “coincidence” is a non sequitur, and she begins formulating a plan to Christmas-gift Claudia with a T-shirt featuring that sentiment. How fast can she get a custom T-shirt made?

The irony is that Claudia would know.

“Yeah,” says Pete’s cousin—Pete’s cousin! She might be affirming the Claudia-irony in Myka’s head, or the situational irony Myka is now stuck in, or any of the vast array of ironies that make up the Warehousian unfolding of time itself. Myka would not have expected Pete’s cousin’s words to contain multitudes. And yet.

“He told me it was the kind of thing he thought I’d like,” that cousin continues, “and he was right. Effects aside, it’s a gorgeous implement. Perfectly balanced... which I guess works on an existential level too, doesn’t it? Naughty, nice.” She shifts the pen to rest a delicate crosswise on an extended index finger, testing its equilibrium as a chef might a knife.

The pen—or is it merely a different species of knife?—basks in Nancy Sullivan’s regard. “Resonant little instrument,” she says, with clear affection. “Anyway, we were talking about Pete.” A different sort of affection now colors her voice. “He went into this big production-number apology about it being sort of secondhand.”

“Oh?” Myka says, distracted by pens, knives, resonances... but, right, secondhand. Of course it’s secondhand. No new item could be an artifact. Or could it? This seems like a Steve-conversation topic.... and it certainly beats “H.G. is god knows where” for philosophy.

“Not because it’s not new,” Pete’s cousin says, apparently reading Myka’s mind, “but because he initially was thinking he’d give it to somebody else.”

Myka repeats her interrogative “oh?”, but she’s getting a feeling again.

“Yeah,” says Nancy Sullivan, and Myka really has to applaud her talent for broadly applicable affirmation. “He said he wanted to give it to his partner because, and I quote, ‘she likes the old-fashioned stuff,’ but then he realized he shouldn’t because, and I also quote, ‘she’s got this whole family feathery-pen dealy-thingy and I don’t want to upset her.’” She waves the pen again, this time directly at Myka, like a conductor imploring the oboes to pick up the pace. “And he told me his partner’s name,” she concludes.

“I’m sure there are lots of Myka Berings in the world?” Myka tries, weakly, raising her hands as if to offer Nancy Sullivan all those other Myka Berings. The last vestige of defensibility... then her hands drop, because really. She looks at Helena in apology, with only an indistinct, tangled sense of what she’s apologizing for. I’m sorry I occasioned this is part of it, yet there’s a deeper fault she feels but can’t quite ideate, one more consequential than an anodyne “oops.”

“Listen, he’s a really good guy,” Nancy Sullivan says.

“I agree completely,” Myka assures her. But in the interest of full disclosure, she adds, “Mostly completely. I mean, I’m going to kill him for this.”

Helena says, “Are you.” Her tone brings Myka up short: it’s impossibly knowing, suggesting insight into everything Myka has been thinking, about someday and talking and things.

Again with the reading so right.

Myka would love to have the panache to do more than glance furtively at Helena, to pull off a playful, similarly knowing response, like “that depends on my backup” (or something actually clever that will doubtless occur to her during some post-holiday post-mortem). Instead she goes with a not at all interrogative “Oh.”

Nancy Sullivan looks from Myka to Helena. Then she says, “Okay, revision: A really good guy who might be hanging onto some unreasonable hope.”

Myka wishes she could keep from glancing yet again, now, at Helena—now as she grasps the fullness of her underlying error, now as she formulates a hopeful plan regarding someday saying out loud “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that he had any such hope and that I didn’t make completely clear that any such hope would never have been anything but unreasonable”—but the wish doesn’t work. She glances... thus proving Nancy Sullivan’s point.

“He didn’t mention you,” Pete’s cousin tells Helena. “I think I see why.”

“I’m both offended and pleased,” Helena says, with her customary little thank-you head-bow.

Rather than luxuriating in the familiarity of that head-bow, Myka tries to head off a more detailed discussion of Helena’s role in it all (and what a nondescriptively limp phrase that is) by observing, “The sixth-sense thing is quite the family trait.”

“Ah. Sure. You’ve had experience,” Nancy Sullivan says, a little droop in her voice.

Has she taken Myka’s words as criticism? Myka hurries to reassure, “Sometimes it’s very helpful.”

“But. Other times.” This is heavier, and now she must be referencing her own vibe-related experiences.

“Your family get-togethers must be really... charged?” Myka tries.

Nancy Sullivan offers another all-encompassing “Yeah.” Then she laughs. “But at least we don’t have a feathery-pen dealy-thingy like your family does.”

Helena clears her throat, an attention-garnering ah-ha-hem, as if it’s in the stage directions preceding her next line in some farce. She inclines her head: more stage-direction drama. Finally, “You do now,” she says in benediction.

Nancy Sullivan’s jaw drops. “Wow,” she says, and “wow,” she repeats. Then she laughs again and says, “He really should’ve mentioned you.”

Myka might laugh too, but she is preoccupied by the way in which Helena’s well-chosen articulation has persuaded her body to remind her that it and she have reached no mutually satisfactory agreement about appropriate reactions.

And that in turn sparks Myka to a realization: once the retrieval is accomplished, there may be a nonzero chance that she and Helena could enjoy a bit more of that liminal together-presence...

Myka’s body makes its best effort to crash through the gauzy ideating her brain would prefer to do about what such time could entail, and after no small amount of nethers-vs.-cerebrum struggle, she manages to propose, truce-wise, a simple Let’s just hope it exists.

Surprisingly, body and mind are willing to shake on that, giving Myka leave to slip on a glove and pronounce, “Just give us the pen. Then it’s over. Mostly. The money will probably revert... so you’ll most likely have to redo the bonuses the old-fashioned way.” Hearing herself, she amends, “Well. The regular way.”

“I don’t mind redoing. But reverting...” Pete’s cousin tightens her fingers around the artifact, pulling it near to her body as if she might be considering, for one last “maybe,” the idea of punching her way out.

Myka tenses, and she doesn’t need to cast a glance to know that Helena is doing the same.

She glances anyway... and indeed, Helena alive with wiry readiness is a sight worth the seeing. So worth it, in fact, that Myka is genuinely, if improperly, disappointed that said sight doesn’t cause the truce to collapse.

After a moment, however, color returns to Nancy Sullivan’s knuckles, and Myka removes the pen from her slackened grip.

But then Nancy Sullivan cocks her head. “Is it really over though? I feel like something else might be happening.”

No. No. Absolutely not. “Something else is always happening,” Myka says, affecting nonchalance as she slides the feathery foolishness into a static bag, ignoring its yipping sparks of protest. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nancy Sullivan casts a skeptical look at the barky little bag. “If you say so. Anyway seeing Pete’s face when I tell him you and I –and he and I!—are fellows in family feathery-pen dealy-thingies now? Might end up being the second-best end-of-year bonus of all, given everything.” There’s a little mockery in her voice, echoing the cousin Myka knows so well.

“And the best such bonus?” Helena inquires.

“Docking Bob’s pay,” Nancy Sullivan says instantly.

Myka snorts, and Nancy Sullivan turns back to her and says, “Are you okay with me being glad we met?” Like she’s mostly but not entirely sure of the response she’ll get, and that’s another echo.

“Only if you’re okay with me being glad too,” Myka says, her own voice sounding a familiar note—one she’s pretty sure Pete would recognize.

After a nod, Nancy Sullivan turns to Helena. “I’d say it to you, but I feel like there’s something extra going on with you, like—”

Myka steps in: “Honestly, always,” and then she’s hustling Helena out of the office even as Helena chirps, “I’m both offended and pleased by that as well!”

Back in the elevator, Helena speaks first. “I did not expect that,” she says, sounding entertained by—practically bubbly about—the entire scenario.

“I should have,” Myka grumbles.

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Oh god no,” Myka says, involuntarily. “Too easy if anything.”

Helena’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes accuse. “I’ve known you for no small amount of time,” she says.

Myka’s previous review fights that statement, but she doesn’t speak of it.

Her lack of response prompts a heavy I-am-no-longer-entertained sigh. “Must I return to the phrase ‘your truth’?”

“Please don’t,” Myka says. That’s also nearly involuntary, but it sounds too harsh, like she’s dismissing as unimportant that bookstore interaction, as well as the entirety of those in-extremis manifestations of herself and Helena. Rather than apologizing for that, for surely it would prove far too entangling, she tries to draw Helena’s attention back to the entertainment. “I like Nancy Sullivan. She reminds me of Pete and his mom.”

“Pete’s mother? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

That’s a bit more jousty, backed by curiosity. Good. “She’s a Regent,” Myka says, for it’s the most salient piece of information she has about Jane Lattimer.

Helena stills. Her jaw hardens. “Then perhaps I have indeed had the... pleasure.” Cold. Cold. Cold.

You idiot, Myka scourges herself. Why couldn’t she have done the normal thing and left Pete’s mom as “Pete’s mom”? But now, but now: now she’s seen this wound, down there under the ice, and she wants to test that ice, but she can’t, regardless of her wish and want to know know know, to know everything Helena has been put through, so as to know whom to hate (and she hopes that doesn’t include Pete’s mom) and whom to someday thank (and she double-hopes that does include Pete’s mom). “Anyway I think the cousin had the right idea,” she says, pushing back to the now, to what just happened. “Using an artifact to do what are really decent things, even if they were judgmental.”

“Rather Old Testament,” Helena says. “Strangely inappropriate for this holiday, no?” She asks that like she’s really thinking—wondering—about it.

Myka congratulates herself on having provided a distraction, however minimal, from whatever Regent-pain her unthinking reveal caused to surface. “I hadn’t thought about Santa being more Yahweh than Jesus,” she says, to enhance it, “and I’m not sure what it says about my position on salvation that I genuinely wish we could have let her keep that pen. Or even better, if we could maybe ferry it around to deserving arbiters... wouldn’t that contribute to the greater good, even if it’s in a judgy Old-Testament way?”

Helena’s face moves as if she’s about to answer, but before she can, a rupturing screech of metal-on-metal complication resounds decisively through the space, and their ear-popping descent slows, slows, slows...

...and stops.

After an appropriately irony-bearing pause, Helena says, “This elevator seems to disapprove of your suggestion. Or perhaps it’s your theological indecision that displeases?”

All Myka can manage is an extremely resigned “I am not surprised.”

Efforts to summon help strengthen the “disapproval” interpretation: they’re fruitless. No one answers the emergency line, and this mirrored box is, according to both their phones, the place where cell service goes to die. Or where that service is interfered with by a theologically offended pulley-based mechanism.

“I genuinely cannot believe we’re stuck in an elevator,” Myka says. It may be the most true statement to which she’s ever given voice.

After a beat, however, she concedes, “But of course I can.”

Helena casts her gaze around. Once again, exaggeratedly stage-direction-y. “At least it’s reasonably well-appointed. For an elevator in which to be... stuck.” She seems to relish articulating “stuck,” so she’s back to being entertained. Not quite bubbly, but definitely entertained.

Myka can’t get past her annoyance with the elevator’s disapproval, so she says a peevish, “I don’t like mirrors.” She’s painfully aware now that they cover not only the walls, but also the ceiling. She can’t even look heavenward in supplication, sarcastic or otherwise, without regarding herself. It really is too much.

Given that no other communication technology is working, she resorts to the Farnsworth. She gives thanks for Warehouse mojo, or whatever enables it to elude the elevator’s wrath, when Claudia answers with, “No info on ‘lists, making them’ yet.”

“We dealt with that,” Myka tells her. “New problem.”

“Another artifact?”

“Who knows? Maybe Pete’s in an elevator somewhere else in this town making bad decisions, and they’re redounding to our detriment.” She’s vamping. Stuck in an elevator with Helena, she’s vamping. Instead of simply basking in such fantasy-made-fact, she’s vamping.

She doesn’t bother wondering whether Helena knows she’s doing that; if this little adventure has done nothing else, it’s reminded Myka that Helena always knows. It’s both wonderful and terrible to be so legible, particularly to someone Myka so often finds frustratingly illegible.

“I’m not following,” Claudia says.

Speaking of illegible: Myka, heal thyself. “We’re stuck. In an elevator,” she clarifies.

Claudia makes a noise that, impressively, marries a gasp and a snicker. “Are you really? Or did you push the stop button, like people do?”

“Like people... what?”

“When they want to have a little uninterrupted chat,” Claudia says, pedantic, as if now she’s the one who’s “clarifying.”

“Nobody does that in real life,” Steve says from offscreen. Myka is pleased to know he’s around.

“Myka just did,” Claudia insists in his direction. “Didn’t you,” she insists at Myka.

“If I did,” Myka says, “why would I be calling you to get us out of here?”

“Yeah, why would she?” Steve asks, but from farther away.

Don’t leave! Myka wants to exhort. She would never admit to needing backup in a counter-Claudia sense... but she does appreciate when Steve provides it.

“Oooh, because maybe the chat didn’t go so well,” Claudia says with great, and to Myka’s thinking entirely inappropriate, relish.

Trying for calm pragmatism, she says, “Wouldn’t I just... unpush the stop button then?”

“Myka,” Claudia says. It’s the most chiding, disappointment-laden use of her name Myka has ever heard, even when measured against all the times her father has uttered those two designating syllables. “Believe me when I tell you I’m a fan,” Claudia goes on, turning mollifying, “but you really need to lean in when it comes to tropes.” Myka can’t imagine how to respond to that, so she doesn’t. Claudia sighs—seemingly everyone’s preferred go-to when Myka fails to produce words—and says, “Did you try calling maintenance? Pushing the emergency button? Using your cell?”

“Yes, yes, and no service. Do you genuinely think I don’t understand modern communication technology?”

“I think you pretend you don’t understand newfangledness all the time. Particularly when you’re trying to show off how sympatico you are with H.G., who incidentally doesn’t seem to be piping up like I’d expect. Did you knock her unconscious after your terrible chat? Or maybe during it?”

Helena has indeed been very—very surprisingly—quiet while Myka has explained the situation to Claudia. And she doesn’t step in to help Myka out now. So much for any counter-Claudia backup.

“There was not a chat,” Myka says.

Helena is regarding herself in the mirrored ceiling.

“But there could be one now?” Claudia nudges. “Let me see if I can see what’s up. I’ve got cell service.” She disconnects.

Helena abruptly abandons her ceiling self-contemplation, focusing her gaze upon Myka. It’s disconcerting. “Are you attempting to avoid an uninterrupted chat?” she asks.

Myka can’t suss the question’s sincerity. And notwithstanding all her ideas about talking, she suffers a cringing internal “yes.” Externally, however, she says, in what she hopes offers at least a veneer of sincerity of her own, “No.”

She doesn’t follow up by asking “why would I be doing that,” because Helena would probably have a guess. And because that guess would probably be accurate: “You are a coward,” Helena might say, and Myka would regrettably have to either tell the truth and agree, or lie and disclaim any emotional investment in whatever the outcome of such a chat might be.

Silence. Longer than it should be... or is it as long as Myka deserves?

You wanted time together. Don’t bellyache about the form it takes.

“Your objection to mirrors,” Helena eventually says.

“What about it?” Myka asks. Her very soul flinches.

“What is it?”

Myka has never before stated her dislike of mirrors aloud, and she regrets having done so now. To play it off, she says a dismissive, “An artifact.” And yet the truth is that despite the unnerving nature of her interaction with Alice’s mirror and how it continues to prey on her mind, it isn’t really that—or rather, that only intensified her dislike.

But when Helena proposes, “Yet another ‘dealy-thingy’?”, clearly (and preciously) trying the phrase out in her mouth, Myka misleadingly (intentionally misleadingly) nods and says, “They’re all dealy-thingies.”

To that, Helena says, “Interesting.”

Myka would probe that word, but to do so might destabilize the ground, here in an elevator. Instead, for the moment, she tilts her head in the direction of the Christmas muzak, the literal elevator music, being piped in. “Oh, sure, that still works.” She gestures at the speaker, a thin dark stripe between two mirror-panels, from which the sound is emerging. The elevator is nothing if not insistent.

In truth, she doesn’t mind Christmas carols. She does mind the bowdlerization thereof, and isn’t that an attitude the dogmatic elevator really ought to share? O holy night, the stars are brightly... synthesizing? It’s wrong.

Now even her mind is vamping. Great.

Helena tilts her head toward the speaker, however, and Myka appreciates her willingness to be redirected. At least for a moment.

In fact, for all her vamping, mental and otherwise, Myka finds herself absurdly content to simply stand against a mirrored elevator wall and regard Helena... who in that instant of Myka’s acknowledged contentment seems to accept their predicament as unlikely to be resolved in a timely fashion: she sits down, of course elegantly, resting her back against her side of the box and stretching her legs (her legs, Myka’s body notes, just to let her know it’s still paying close attention) out in front of her.

The looking-down perspective is a bit disorienting—although at least this time it has nothing to do with being stuck to a ceiling—but Myka has no time to process it, for Helena’s next salvo, looking up, is, “You’ve been expecting me to remark further on naughtiness, haven’t you.”

Reading, yet again. “I kind of have,” Myka admits. It seems an overly judgmental statement, particularly given that Myka has to deliver it as if from an elevated bench. And yet... she kind of has.

“I’d rather not fulfill that expectation,” Helena says. “If we could speak of other things.”

Myka is a little thrown, but thankful. “That is entirely fine by me. What do you want to talk about?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Myka says, meaning it as an answer to either interpretation of Helena’s interrogative: Are you asking what I want to talk honestly about? or Are you asking, with honest intent, what I want to talk about? She hopes Helena will respond similarly.

“Something that interests you,” Helena says.

That’s not in any way what she was expecting. “Really?”

“Really.”

It’s a word similar to, yet very different from, “honestly.” What, in a real sense, interests Myka? In this moment, all she can think to say is “you.” And perhaps because her normal inhibitions are disordered, here in this stopped elevator, that’s what she blurts out.

And that seems, incongruously, to take Helena aback. “What about me?” she asks.

Myka can’t say “everything.” It’s the real answer (really), but it’s far too... big. For an unexpected reunion, an unexpected uninterrupted chat—although Claudia or rescuers could at any point interrupt it, which Myka should hope happens (should)—it’s far too big.

So: smaller. What occurs first to Myka is “where have you been”—but that would most likely seem accusatory. She needs something else. Something something something...

In the aftermath of the Warehouse not being destroyed, she’d felt herself full of hard-earned wisdom and bravery: enough, surely, to stop hesitating. Enough, surely, to act. Or enough, at the very least, to articulate.

“Wisdom” and “bravery” now seem nothing more than labels on empty containers, and so “faintheartedness” is the fullness with which Myka here initially accuses her today self. But as Helena breathes and waits for an answer, Myka revises that, gentling it to “caution.” And she adds “care.” Because she is trying to attend to, to appreciate, that breathing. And that waiting.

These might be nothing more than self-indulgently comforting shifts in vocabulary... but then again they might be akin to the shift from “Christmas” to “end-of-year.” Gentle. Inclusionary.

The something something something that occurs to her—because in attempting to avoid her own reflection, she is confronted instead with multiple Helenas—concerns a topic she probably should censor but doesn’t: “When you were a hologram... or a projection, or whatever we should call it... did you have a reflection?” She then reflexively backtracks, “It shouldn’t matter? But I don’t know.” That last, she means both ways. She doesn’t know: whether the reflection existed, or whether it matters. But maybe it’s a sneak-up on things, because she shouldn’t ignore things, and because a seemingly inconsequential tangent might tiptoe toward importance.

“I don’t know either,” Helena says. “I suppose I would have?” Her face contracts. “Or perhaps not, as I don’t know how that holographic projection of myself was... projected. But I do intend to look into it.” She says this last as if Myka has caught her in some inattention, a recklessly uncompleted assignment.

“I never even started majoring in physics,” Myka laments, which is true but also, she hopes, reassuring in an I didn’t do the homework either sense, “so I don’t know the optics of it. Projections. Light and mirrors. “ She doesn’t mention that in the wake of Pittsburgh, she had indeed tried researching such things... she’d got as far as some advanced volumetric displays, ones using dust particles as screens onto which lasers projected light, but at a certain point, a tipping point, the idea of Helena existing as—being relegated to—nothing more than light and dust seemed to scream a surpassing insult, a degradation conjuring death, and it was more than she could bear.

For now she puts that away. She shakes her head, shakes it free, and changes tack. “Anyway, that’s probably the wrong approach. This is Warehousey, so thinking outside physics, the laws... okay, all I know about reflections, unphysically, is that vampires don’t have them. So if you didn’t have one, then maybe all holograms are vampires?” Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. She would have done better to speak of dust, that and light and despair. Going with vampires instead? Talk about vamping...

“Presumably not vice versa,” Helena observes, seemingly taking Myka’s words far too seriously. “Certainly fictionally. Also not overly flattering, in the syllogistic sense of ‘Helena was a hologram, therefore.’”

“They’re very popular though,” Myka temporizes.

“Stoker’s novel was all the rage,” Helena allows.

The chat stalls out. Interrupting itself?

Myka nevertheless feels pressure to fill the silence: it’s her fault. Will a simple truth suffice? “I didn’t expect to be spending the day before Christmas Eve with you,” she says. “Or any day with you. In Cleveland.”

A small smile from Helena marks this as a more welcome fill than a question about reflection. As do her next words: “Nor I with you. In Cleveland, or any place. Equally, I didn’t expect to be sent on a mission with you.”

“That part of it went well.” Myka gestures at her bag that contains the artifact.

“We did—and now do once again—make a good team.”

“I’m glad we got the chance to do it again. Glad, but also... relieved.”

“Relieved,” Helena echoes.

That wasn’t a question, but Myka answers anyway. “Well, obviously, first,” she says, feeling herself launching into an explanatory babble that she fears she’ll be powerless to stop, “because you didn’t have to talk anybody out of using Joshua’s trumpet, so that really makes a difference in terms of how we—”

“‘First’,” Helena quotes, interrupting (stopping), conveying her full knowledge that that too is a vamp. “And second?”

“That we still are.” This, Myka says simple and frank.

“A good team?”

That is a question. Myka knows “yes” is the only sensical answer, so she tries to say it. But the depth and weight of the ways in which she and Helena “still are” choke her: they “still are” in the basic sense of existing, which was never a certainty; and even better, higher, these hours they’ve spent together today have made clear, to Myka at least, that they “still are”... well. She’d like to finish that with something like “in love,” but instead she tries to leave it, even in her head, at “still are,” with their time-crossed, maybe-destined predicate undefined.

“A good team” should be good enough—true enough—for now.

So after a stretch of time during which Myka knows she’s been focusing her gaze far too intently on Helena, she manages that “yes.”

Helena waits to speak.... are her eyes glistening more brightly than usual, or is Myka hallucinating? “I’m relieved as well,” she says, and Myka chooses to simply delight in whatever prompted such a saturated sparkle.

It draws her closer.

She crosses the small-yet-large elevator-width that separates them. “I need to either sit down beside you or help you up,” she says. “Do you have a preference?”

“For?” Helena’s eyes continue to glow.

That shine... Myka has hopes. They may not be realized, but she has them: the product of relief, “still are,” and an unknown predicate. “Whatever’s next,” she says.

A bit of time passes, with Helena now being the one focused most intently. “I’ll stand,” is her verdict.

Myka reaches down with both—both—hands, offering, and Helena reaches up, accepting. Their fingers meet and clasp, and too cold, Myka thinks, for both of them have a chill in those extremities... but first impressions of temperature promptly fall away as the new reality of the clasp roars into precedence.

Myka has never been so certain of, so certain of and enchanted by, what must and will happen next in her life. Never in her life so certain, as the clasp tightens, as their torsos lean, as Myka’s body begins an at-last congratulation, one that will become a celebration—

A voice from somewhere overhead barks, “Everybody okay in there?”

TBC

[tinyinvadr]

New chapter yay!!!

Psychoborrower

Chapter 3

I almost had a heart attack when I made the jump into Raz’s pocket before he left. I got a bit too used to Sasha’s complete obliviousness to my existence that I forgot that most people tend to notice when something small jumps on them.

“Huh? What was that?”

I held my breath as he shook his jacket off. I wasn’t too worried about falling out, but I was definitely concerned this motion would make me throw up. That would easily give me away. And it’s gross.

He gave up pretty quickly once he realized there wasn’t a bug or animal on him, and went off like nothing happened.

Either way, this was probably the stupidest thing I’d ever done. Really. Thanks for guilt tripping me into making up with this kid, Sasha.

On the way there, I overheard his conversations with the other campers, and he came to the conclusion that one of the kids’ brains had been stolen.

Personally, I thought he was just paranoid. The kid in question was Dogen. He’s just like that.

When we got to Milla’s class, he asked Lili about it. It turns out, Raz had a vision in the tumbler about a creepy doctor that perfectly matched up with a nightmare she had been having.

That… was a lot more than paranoia.

Lili ended up leaving class early, but told Raz to meet her later by the lake so they could talk about the situation further.

I tried not to let myself get too worked up about it. After all, none of this concerned me. But at the same time… if Dogen’s brain really was missing, that could mean trouble.

The kid was extremely powerful. Too powerful. To the point where he couldn’t control his own abilities. Head-exploding abilities. And the only thing keeping them at bay was a crumby tinfoil hat. If that brain fell into the wrong hands…

No. Everything was fine. Raz and Lili were just having shared nightmares. That’s… probably normal.

Milla was hesitant to let Raz into her mind, and wasn’t thrilled when she learned Sasha was training him. She has the tendency to be very protective. It took me forever to convince her to train me. Which is kind of strange, because between her, Sasha, and the Coach, her mind is the safest. There are a few Censors here and there, but there aren’t any platforms that you can really fall off of. The course is designed for levitation training, and it accommodates for that very purpose perfectly.

After some convincing, she let us in. Raz wasn’t as shocked by my presence, but he did seem annoyed. As for Milla, she was overjoyed.

“Flint! It’s so good to see you again, darling! And it’s so nice to see you’ve made a friend!”

Raz and I kind of just avoided eye contact for a minute, and Milla stopped dancing on the TV monitor when she took note of the uncomfortable silence.

“Oh, I see… Well, not to worry! A party is the best place to work out your problems, so I’m sure whatever’s going on between you two will sort itself out! Now then, Razputin, I’ve given you your Levitation learner’s permit. Finish the course, and you’ll get your merit badge! Start whenever you’re ready!”

I’d already done the course before, so I just hopped on my Thought Bubble and rolled on ahead.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Raz called after me.

“Sasha said I had to attend class with you. He didn’t say we had to stick together the entire time.”

“But he also said we have to try and get along. If we’re gonna become Psychonauts together-”

“Whoa, together? Where’d you get that from? It would take a miracle for them to let either one of us in, but there’s no way they’d accept both of us. And frankly, I’d question their judgement if they picked you over me, newbie.”

It didn’t take long for him to catch up to me. It was infuriating how quickly he took to every single thing he learned. He was a natural, and I hated it.

“What makes you so sure they won’t take us both? I mean, even if it’s not at the same time, eventually-”

I bumped my Thought Bubble into his, sending him rolling backwards. I was so sick of him. Natural talent. Misguided optimism. He really thought we could be teammates. Maybe in a perfect world that wasn’t pitted against me and actively sought out people like him. Maybe in a world where the game wasn’t rigged in his favor. But no. He was gonna get everything he wanted, and I’d be left with nothing, stuck at this stupid baby camp that I was only a year away from aging out of.

He rebounded from the bump and caught up to me again as I desperately kept trying to lose him.

“I just don’t get what your problem with me is. What did I ever do?”

I kept going, trying to ignore him. Then, he surprised me once again, bouncing right in front of me and bumping me back. It was with a lot less force, but enough to stop me.

“Hey, look. I can tell you’re going through something right now. And… I am too. To tell you the truth, I’m starting to doubt I’ll get there in time. My Dad’s gonna be here tomorrow. He’ll take me back to the circus where I’ll never be allowed to use my powers again. But even if it seems hard, that doesn’t mean we can’t still try, right?”

I sighed, rolling ahead and motioning for him to follow me. We made our way to the first dance platform, where the other campers and several mental dancers were enjoying the party. I sat myself down in one of the lounge seats and pointed to the space next to me until Raz got the hint.

Neither of us spoke for a minute. We just sat there, observing the party. At one point, a mental waitress brought us drinks. I started drinking mine right away while Raz looked at me like I had just committed a crime.

“Um… are these-?”

“Nonalcoholic. Milla would never think of giving a kid the real stuff.”

Even after I told him, he still looked at the glass in his hand like it was full of poison, until he eventually decided it was fine and took a sip.

“It’s good.”

We continued to sit and take in the atmosphere of the party. I knew I had to say something, but I didn’t know where to begin, or how much to reveal. So, I started the simplest way I could.

“I ran away from home too, you know.”

Raz seemed surprised.

“But… you’ve been coming here for years. Didn’t the counselors try to contact your parents?”

I chuckled. “My folks aren’t exactly easy to get in contact with, so they’ve been begrudgingly letting me live here ever since. It’s not like they can do much about it, since no one ever sees me.”

“Why do you do that? The invisibility thing, I mean. And how are you able to hold it for that long? Milka’s invisible pretty much all the time but I still see her between recharges.”

Right. There was another kid at camp that did the whole invisibility thing. Well, she was actually invisible. I just lied about it so no one would realize the real reason they haven’t seen me in the physical world. Ironically, it’s my weakest psychic power.

“I value my privacy. And just because I agreed to talk to you doesn’t mean I have to reveal all my secrets. But it looks like things are pretty hopeless for us right now, so I don’t see much of a point picking a fight with you anymore.”

“It’s not hopeless! There’s something weird going on around camp. Have you seen Dogen lately?”

I nodded. “Yeah. But are you sure his brain is missing?”

“There’s nothing between his ears! I could see right through his head!”

Oh wow, that’s… horrifying, actually.

“I saw a vision in the Brain Tumbler of Dogen with this creepy dentist who said he was gonna take his brain out. I couldn’t get all the way up to the tower without levitation, so that’s why I’m taking this course.”

At that, I got up from my seat and got back on my Thought Bubble.

“In that case, we should get moving. No time to sit around and chat. If this is as serious as you say it is, you need that merit badge ASAP. Follow me, I’ll show you the fastest way through.”

I could see the way his eyes lit up when he realized I was finally gonna help him with training. I hated to admit it, but it did feel nice knowing that this kid looked up to me, even after I was such a jerk to him. It felt like maybe all my training meant something after all.

We made our way up to the next part of the course, where you use your Thought Bubble to roll over dangerous elements. It was really the only major hazard in Mills’s mind, and as long as you levitated like you were supposed to, no harm would come to you.

At least, nothing happened to me. Raz, it turns out, was a special case. He could easily roll over fire, electricity, even radioactive waste. But when he tried to roll over the pool of water, something strange happened. His bubble suddenly popped, and he started flailing around as if something was trying to pull him down.

I grabbed onto him right away and pulled him up so he could get back on his bubble.

“What was that? Water is like, the least lethal obstacle. Why did that one throw you off?”

He looked back at the pool warily as if he could see something in it.

“My family has this problem with water. Psychics cursed all of us to die if we go into any deep body of water. I guess not even my own powers are enough to combat that.”

Wow… With every new thing I learned about psychics, I kept falling into the same trap of thinking I knew everything.

“I didn’t know psychics could curse people.”

“I don’t think it’s common. But… just once was enough to make my Dad hate all psychics. That’s why I ran away. It’s just so frustrating… I never asked for these powers. They’re not going away, and I don’t want them to, either. They’re a part of who I am, but that doesn’t make me evil! And I’m pretty sure he’s also a psychic, so why is he being so hard on me? I just… I’m sorry for dumping all this on you.”

I’d heard this all before in my own mind. Being forced to suppress a major part of yourself in order to please everyone around you… I could understand that from more than one perspective. Against my better judgement, I felt genuinely sorry for the kid.

My parents always told me not to think of humans as being like us. They didn’t deserve our pity because they could never understand how easy they have it compared to us. There was no point in thinking of them as complex people because they would never see us that way. Instead, they were nothing but living obstacles to be avoided.

But Raz knew what it was like to be treated like an outcast, even by his own family. Maybe it wasn’t the same. Maybe he still had it better than I did. Maybe this was all a side effect of me astral projecting as a human for too long. But I didn’t see him as a threat anymore. I saw him for what he was: a lost, scared kid just trying to find himself.

I saw… me.

“Hey, Raz… it’s okay. I get it. And if you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

He nodded, giving a slight smile.

“Thanks, Flint.”

We rolled on ahead to the racetrack, where we won the race, and more importantly, kicked Bobby Zilch’s ass. From there we floated up towards the end of the course, blew up a few Censors, and finally made it to the end, where we were greeted by Milla.

“So glad you could make it! Now the party can really start! Let’s get you that merit badge, darling!”

We didn’t have much time to stick around and party, so Milla let us take our leave after Raz got his badge.

When we were back in our bodies and Raz started to head back to Sasha’s lab, I was lost in thought. For once, it wasn’t in a paranoid way. I was content. Even though I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the full truth, it felt like we were still supporting each other in the physical world. Sure, he had no idea I was in his pocket, but that didn’t matter. I was there as a hidden source of moral support, and he was unknowingly carrying me and sheltering me from danger.

It was sort of like the dynamic I’d come to have with Sasha and Milla, but it was nice to have someone around who was closer to my age. This was the closest I could have to a real friend.

In short, Raz was far from the worst thing to happen at camp. No, that was yet to come…

[itjazzbicch]

New Bloodline

Pairing:  Madara Uchiha x Senju!Fem Reader 

First time writing for Madara so I hope I did well! I know he can be a little tricky to write for and this is kinda a softer side of him so, I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: After becoming pregnant and lying about who the father is, the reader goes through an emotional pregnancy. When her brother, Hashirama, takes a guess about her situation, it stirs deep emotion in the reader who's not ready for what she sees when she returns home alone...

Warnings:  SMUT! (It's in a flashback, BUT STILL!) (18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED) (Pregnancy, flashbacks, childbirth)

Word Count: 2.2k 

"Y/N, my dear sister," Hashirama sighed, sitting by my side, eyes on my large belly as I was nine months pregnant, asking me, "You can tell me the truth. Madara is the father of your child, isn't he?"

My pregnancy was a mystery to everyone.

-----

One day, I woke up and headed for my brother's office and what I didn't realize was my appearance. Walking in to see Hashirama fixing his Hokage robe, noticing quickly:

"Are you okay, sister? Your face is rather pale today."

"Is it?" I began, noticing how my stomach was upset, starting to gag on my words, "I feel jus-"

He immediately knew that I was sick and sure enough, when I ran to the restroom to vomit, I knew I was pregnant.

-------

"You know that you can tell me," Hashirama's guess was correct, making his claim stronger, "I know that the two of you felt a certain way about one another."

"I already told you," Thinking of Madara always brought tears to my eyes since he left the village, fighting my brother every chance he got, and still, I lied to my brother, "I was immature and had a fling when I was in another village."

Being ready to pop at any second and dealing with hormones that made me super emotional throughout my entire pregnancy, that was the last conversation that I wanted to have, standing up and mumbling:

"But it's okay. I'm perfectly capable of being a mother on my own."

"I do not doubt that sister," He agreed, standing at my side, "And your son or daughter has two amazing uncles waiting for them."

His smile eased up some of the emotions as I knew for sure that he and Tobi would be good uncles, but him bringing up Madara made me want to be alone, holding my stomach as I headed for the door:

"That they do. I'll see you tomorrow, Hashi. I miss my bed."

With the baby coming along any day now, Hashi suggested that I stay with him and his wife, so I wouldn't be alone and go into labor, so he immediately disagreed with my thought process:

"You shouldn't be alone. You know that you're due any day now! And you've been having contractions!"

"Yes, I know, but I'm not an idiot," I groaned, suggesting so I could leave, "I'll take my pupil with me. She lives right next to my home. If anything were to happen, she'd take care of me."

"Okay. Fine," He sighed, going along with me, "I'll stick with you till she takes you home."

I only sighed, walking alongside him to go meet my pupil, and the entire time, I was completely zoned out, couldn't even hear a word they said, just nodding and following along this long walk home, reliving my past in my head.

-------

"Madara, you can't do this!"

I was a wreck. The moment I heard him say that he was leaving the village, it felt like a kunai going through my heart.

"What about the dream we all shared? I know that we all have different ways of thinking, but we can still make that dream come true!"

It got to the point where no words could change his mind, my last effort being my hands clinging to his robe, crying into his back as I begged:

"Please, don't go, Madara. We can fix all this. Please, just don't leave. I-I love you."

I thought I'd won as he turned to face me, showing emotion that I'd only ever seen once in my entire life, his lips against mine, every move and touch of my lips trying to suade him with passion.

---------

"You go ahead now, Sensei. I'm going to grab some of your favorite tea from the market really quick!" My pupil was a bright one, I loved her like a child and did appreciate all the things she's done, and accomplished, and her loyalty.

"That's okay, dear," I assured, opening my door and looking to the sky, "It's already dark out. Just go ahead home and if I need you-"

"Just yell for me," She smiled, "Don't worry. I'll have no issue hearing you and I'll be right over."

"Exactly," I smiled softly for her, going inside, "Goodnight."

Just standing in my living room, it was like a vision was before me, beautiful children running around, a smile on my face, and Madara by my side. That's what my heart wanted. Holding my stomach and realizing that my vision was now only a dream, tears swelling up as I remembered that night again.

-----

"Madara!"

On my back, all I could do was moan his name, feeling all his weight on top of me while his deep, powerful thrusts made sure his cock was as deep as possible, the pressure and heat a beautiful thing.

"Look at me," Holding my chin to make sure I was lost in those deep, dark eyes, all I could think of was how long I wanted that night to last, arms wrapping around his neck and kissing him, even while my chest ached from not breathing.

My head collapsed as I wasn't able to hang on anymore, arms falling along, but able to lock my knuckles when I felt his hands interlocked with mine, groaning at another one of my overflowing orgasms, forehead to forehead so his ears were filled to the brim with my moans, overwhelmed by his seed flooding me.

As we caught our breath and he even laid back, holding me in his arms, I thought that everything would be okay. That he and my brother could figure out their issues, that we could accomplish our dreams together, never sleeping so peacefully as I did then, but when I woke up in the morning?

Madara was gone.

-------

Waddling to my kitchen, I thought maybe some tea would help, after all, there was still enough for a cup left, but the tears that were swelled up couldn't stop falling. I was shaking even while trying to open a cabinet.

Trying to tell myself to suck it up only made it worse, growing angry along with the hurt, the glass cup I went for crashed to the ground, letting out a growl with my tears:

"Damn it! Can't even make a cup of tea!"

There was no avoiding it. So, I just let all the cries come out, but my heart about stopped when I heard a footstep, a voice I hadn't heard in nearly a year sighing in disappointment:

"Of course, Hashirama would let you go off alone. That pupil of yours is just as clueless too."

"M-Ma," I was in such disbelief that all I could do was stand there and stumble on my words, "Ma-Mada-"

"It's me," Coming to the kitchen and stepping into the light, live in the flesh.

I didn't know what to say, only hearing my heart beating against my chest like a drum, standing still as his hand rested carefully on my stomach.

There was this weird calmness that washed over me. I'd never felt the baby react to someone like this, immediately kicking where his hand was, staying in that one place.

"My, they're a lively one," He was smiling, but that smile turned into a look of concern when I held my stomach with both hands, stumbling on my words again as I huffed:

"Madara, my s-stomach."

Looking down, we both saw the small puddle of water at my feet, my knees growing weak when a contraction hit me out of nowhere.

This wasn't good. First all my crying, Madara was here and I had no clue how he even got into the village, let alone my home, now I was going into labor?

"Come here," Helping me stay on my feet, the only thing I could think to do was call for my pupil, which I did, Madara stopping when she came speeding through the door:

"Y/N Sensei! You oka-"

She wasn't paying attention at first, much like me, freezing in her tracks when she saw Madara at my side, shaking and intimidated by his presence.

"You listen to me," I huffed, commanding and meaning, "This is more important than anything. You go get my doctor and don't either of you say a word to Hashi or Tobi. Got that?"

"Y-Yes," She couldn't keep her eyes off Madara, but answered me with determination as she swallowed her breath, "Yes, Sensei!"

"Well, what are you still standing there for?" Madara shot as she was still frozen, his words making her shake it off and take off to do as I said.

"Madara, I need to sit," Hopefully she'd be quick, because the last contraction I had was the worst of them all, moving away from him to try and sit, but growing weak as another one came.

"You need to let me help you," He sighed, laying me on my back on the floor, looking towards the door as he heard footsteps again, "That pupil of yours is quick."

"Well yeah, I'm her Sensei after all," I tried to take deep breaths, looking up towards the door as my pupil shoved the doctor in and made sure to lock the door and shut the blinds, "Thank you dea-"

Midsentence, I ended up yelling out in pain, Madara snapping at the doctor who was already struck with fear, "Can't you see she's in labor?!"

No words, the doctor rushed over to me, trying to ignore Madara, patting my hand softly as she said calmly, "I have to get down there and take a look. I know it's a lot, but I need to see if the baby is ready to come, okay my lady?"

"Yes," I closed my eyes tight, gripping my fists till I felt Madara take my hand.

"Sensei," My pupil was still standing at the door, going to take a step, but stopping as Madara looked at her and said strictly:

"She and our child will be just fine. You stay put."

"Don't either of you two sta-" I was ready to snap at them both, till I screamed and felt what was like a sharp tear, the doctor having a towel in hand, guiding me:

"It's gonna be okay, Lady Y/N. I just need about three good pushes, okay?"

"O-Okay," I panted, closing my eyes and yelling out while pushing as much as I could, about squeezing Madara's hand off as the second came. It took my everything, never felt so drained before, feeling brittle while the doctor instructed:

"Just one more."

Biting my lip, all the air in my chest rammed out of me, heartbeats thumping in my head with a ring of my ears, but one last push was enough, a baby's cry bringing my hearing back.

It took a bit of strength to pick my head up, crying happily this time as I saw my baby in the doctor's arms, cleaning and wrapping them gently.

Things may have been complicated with Madara, but there was no denying how much I loved my baby. Crying more as the doctor brought them over:

"She's a beautiful baby girl, my lady."

Madara, propping me up, looked along as I held her in my arms, her cries dying down to soft whines as I cooed to her:

"It's okay, my dear baby girl. Mommy's here."

"Father too," I'd never heard Madara's voice so soft, reaching for her as she was moving her hands, taking his finger and holding as she stopped crying altogether, blinking and eyes finding us.

I couldn't help but cry more as she smiled at us. She had such a beautiful smile, a lot of Madara's features, but having a beauty of her own.

I didn't want to think about what was to come. There was no way Hashi or Tobi wouldn't learn of this, could even be on their way now. I just wanted to enjoy the moment that I'd been waiting so long for, even if it wasn't exactly as I'd imagined.

"She's so beautiful, Madara," For a moment, it felt like I was dreaming, holding my precious baby girl while Madara held us both, showing more of his own emotion as he noticed:

"I can't tell if she looks more like me or you. She has your smile."

I noticed that too as I looked to see she was already falling asleep, a small smile on her face. A moment that I'd remember forever.

"S-She's adorable, Sensei," My pupil whispered. She already felt like a big sister as she was like my kid and with me every step of my pregnancy, asking with pure curiosity, "Have you thought of a name for her yet? I know you weren't too sure if it was a girl."

I wasn't sure why, but I couldn't find a name that felt perfect, finding one as Madara said:

"Yume."

Looking over at him, I knew why he thought of that. She was a dream, and who would've thought that an Uchiha and a Senju would have a child together? This was a new beginning of a new bloodline with lots to come.

"Yume Uchiha," He finished and I couldn't keep my eyes off Yume, asleep and still holding his finger as I nodded:

"Yume is the perfect name for her." 

[roserefrain]

[1537 words]

The rose garden finally has need for a knight.

(TWs for monster/animal death [monstrous animal] and blood.)

“Perfectly on time as always,” That angel chirps, glancing up at the sun. “You’ve got this stuff down to a science, huh?”

They were already getting up from their seat, walking alongside Florian, clasping their hands together behind their back and leaning forward.

That angel, Aster, they insisted on walking with him to his post, on chatting endlessly the entire way, on knowing his name… Didn’t they have anything better to do with their time? It wasn’t as if he was an engaging conversational partner.

“So, anything interesting on your patrol route?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary to report, no,” He answers, as if it them who he is supposed to be reporting to in the first place. As if he ever had anything to report.

“Well, I saw some interesting things today!” And, as usual, Aster begins talking endlessly about entirely mundane things. New blooms in the garden, how the weather was, what new books they were reading…

Florian attempts to not be invested in the conversation, to not listen at all, to be as cold as he can be. They will tire of this eventually, of this routine they have made. It’s better to not get too attached to it.

He fails at this task that he sets out for himself, completely and entirely. When they talk about the latest book they were reading through, the way their face lights up with emotion, and how they gesture their hands wildly… They are passionate, if nothing else. It would be impossible not to listen.

"You could talk for hours, hm?"

Oh. Why did that make them stop talking? Did he say something wrong? Aster tilts their head, examining Florian's expression with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you mean that in an 'Aster please shut up' way?" They sound amused, but he feels immediately mortified.

"If I wanted you to stop talking I would have said that." He regrets the words the instant they're out of his mouth. In his mind, it sounded like a reasonable explanation, but in his voice it sounded more like scolding. Surely he can fix this situation. "...And I didn't. Say that, that is. So feel free to continue."

Aster laughs, so, he must've saved it to some extent. "I need to get better at just taking you at your word. It's just hard when you sound so..." They wave their hand absentmindedly as they search for the words. "Hmph, serious knight mode." They attempt a mimic of his monotone speech style, obviously glancing over at his face to see if it makes him crack a smile.

"Hmph. I don't sound like that." He did that on purpose, the small noise. He's playing along, but he won't admit that.

"Ha! You hmph-ed!" Aster points and grins ear to ear. He restrains himself, forces his mouth into a straight line. He won't smile, won't treat this as enjoyable. It's temporary, it's temporary...

"This is my post. It is the most dangerous area of the garden, so you should head back," he says his usual speech. He's sure Aster could recite that line from memory now.

"Just a bit longer? I never get to see the cliff here!" They lean forward, looking down the cliff, unable to see the bottom. "It's supposed to lead all the way out of Heaven, right?"

"Which is precisely why it is so dangerous." He grabs their sleeve, gently pulling them back a step. Sure, there hasn't been any dangerous activity in the rose garden in years, but that doesn't mean he's going to be any less serious about this. It's the principle of the thing.

"Weeeeell...." They extend the word, bouncing on their heels. Ah, that's not a good sign, is it? That's a clear sign that they've decided exactly what they're going to do, and all chances of him saying otherwise have gone out the window. "It's a good thing I've got such a skilled knight keeping an eye on me, then!"

He wanted to at least try to continue his argument, even if it would be futile, but... He's too thrown off balance by being called a skilled knight. He can feel his ears heating up, and he quickly moves his hair in an attempt to hide the red tint they're gaining. "...Just stay close."

"Of course, of course!" Aster approaches the cliff again, examining the area. Well, at least they weren't leaning over the edge anymore. "Do you hear that?" They turn back to Florian, tilting their head.

Time begins to move in slow motion. First, he hears the sound of wings flapping, the sound comes from below them... From below the cliff.

Then, he sees the black wings, spread wide, framing either side of Aster's head. He can't see the actual creature, Aster is standing in exactly the wrong spot, covering it completely. Or rather...

It's going right for them.

No hesitation can be tolerated, this is his duty. He bolts forward, grabbing their wrists and throwing them back, away from the cliff, to safety. They fall to the grass, letting out a surprised little yelp.

"Run-!" The forcefulness of his own voice surprises him, but it's quickly cut off as he is knocked down to the grass as well. Whatever that creature was, it slammed into him, he's dazed, but it doesn't matter.

He reaches out his hands, gripping the beast by the throat. It's a snake, just about as long as he is tall, with wings on its back that flap wildly as he holds it back. It opens and closes its mouth, clearly aiming directly for his throat. Well, they're thinking alike, at the very least. If only this monster was smaller, he could likely just squeeze the throat harder, and it would all be over.

Florian is still in slow motion, his mind going faster than it ever has. His life is in danger, Aster's life is in danger. But, this is what he trained for! This is why he's here! This is his purpose-

His sword isn't attached to his belt. He can feel its absence even without reaching down for it. It may as well be an extra limb with how aware of it he is, and with how suddenly lost he is with its absence. Time crashes back into him, and all at once everything is too fast, too frightening, too dangerous...

Florian allows himself two glances away from the threat.

One, there's his sword, in the grass, just out of reach. Too dangerous to go for, the snake is too strong to hold back with one arm. If he tries for it, he will get bitten, it is not a question.

Two, there's Aster- damn it all, there's Aster! Why didn't they run?! They haven't even gotten up from the grass, they're just staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. They're in danger, he needs to do something.

"My sword!" His voice comes out as a desperate cry. "Aster! My sword!"

He can hear them get to their feet, pick up his sword... He hasn't yet figured out how he'll actually grab it from them without getting hurt, but-

The snake's head falls on to his chest, blood spraying on to his armor, staining everything bright red. He stares up, Aster is holding his sword, blood dripping down from the blade, breathing so heavily... It takes several seconds to pry his hands open, to drop the rest of the carcass down.

Florian doesn't know what to say. He's somewhere between thanking them and asking them to never tell anyone that they killed the snake instead of him. Of course, the one monster in the rose garden in years, and he wasn't the one to slay it.

"Are you okay?!" Aster throws the sword aside, like it's a worthless stick, and pulls Florian's hand, so that he's sitting up. "Please tell me you're not hurt!"

"...My sword is quite important, do not throw it." That's somehow the response he lands on. But it earns a laugh from Aster, tears pouring down their cheeks so openly as they pull him close. They realize their mistake a second too late and pull away, blood staining their bright yellow shirt now. They glance down at it with a mixture of sadness and disgust.

"...Thanks for throwing me out of the way."

"We are even. We both saved each other." Florian pushes himself to his feet, brushing the snake to the ground and collecting his sword. He's prepared to kick the two pieces of the beast down the cliff, when Aster suddenly grabs his sleeve. Great, now that's stained as well.

"Can we bury it?" Their voice is choked. It's foolish, it's pointless, it's overly sentimental. It's just a beast, one that would have killed them both if things went only slightly differently.

And yet, he remembers the first monster he killed. He remembers how it felt. And he signed up for that, willingly, where Aster did no such thing. Aster, who seemingly cared endlessly for everything, regardless of how deserving. Perhaps it was foolish, to have any sympathy for a monster, but he couldn't bring himself to criticize it.

So, he nods his head. "I know where we keep the shovels."

[aollosjustlurking]

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply. There will be adult language, smut, cheating (kinda, not really, it's complicated), manipulation, and other things to be added. This chapter has arguing and adult language.  

This chapter’s Taylor Swift song is “Exile (feat. Bon Iver)”

Here it is:

You Didn't Even Hear Me Out

Virgil had so much to overthink about. He had begun to comb through the past few months and analyze every interaction he had ever had with Roman. He couldn’t tell if the heat in his face that the memory of Princy calling him “hot topic” brought was there originally or whether it was added in hindsight as he sat in his room losing his mind. This all could not have risen so suddenly, surely. But then again, if this cacophony of feelings was a long time coming, was that any better? The more he looked back, the more he realized how he had planted these seeds a while ago.

He decided to break from driving himself mad and instead brave the common area in search of his headphones. He had left them somewhere in there while pacing around the previous night. He was very much hoping that he could find them before Remus did. The Dark Sides’ living room was, you guessed it, characteristically dark. Very few lamps littered the area, giving quite the “evil lair” ambiance. A few chairs were scattered around, all fairly worn from a combination of years of use and daily Remus activities. As Virgil entered the room, he was very disappointed to see that both Remus and Janus were also there. However, he was able to spot his headphones (seemingly fine, though he would have to inspect them before putting them on for sure) on “his” section of the couch. He should just be able to grab them and quietly leave. 

As he walked over to retrieve his lost belongings, Janus spoke. “Remus, humor me, what sort of antics/experiments did you get up to yesterday? I do hope you didn’t break anything, especially not in our kitchen.” He looked directly into Virgil’s eyes despite asking Remus the question. Virgil could feel his body get warmer and his throat dryer. 

“Oh! I mainly did stuff in my room yesterday. It was this really funny thing, so I set up this dungeon right, oh Virgy you will love this-” Virgil was certain that he would not. Luckily for him, and also very unluckily for him, Janus cut off the Duke’s sentence.

“So you didn’t mess about in the kitchen yesterday?”

“Not yesterday…Why? Do you want me to?” A new level of excitement glimmered in Remus’ eyes. 

Janus and Virgil both replied a stern “No.”, the first thing they had agreed upon in weeks. 

“Though, I do find it interesting, if you weren’t messing about in there, then why did Virgil here feel the need to go over and use the others’ kitchen when ours is perfectly fine?” Once again, this quip was worded as if he was expecting Remus to respond, but his unwavering eye contact with Virgil said otherwise. “Furthermore, why accuse Remus of being the reason you were there in a justification to Roman?”

“Aw, Virgil! You told my brother I was wreaking havoc so bad that you had to leave? You’re so kind!” Remus was either completely unaware of the seriousness of this conversation or just didn’t care. Most likely the latter. 

Janus continued, no doubt completely aware of how Virgil hadn’t been able to get a word out in his own defense yet, “Yes, but is making the rest of us look bad so that he can hang out with them is sustainable I wonder?”

“Ok I was not ‘hanging out’ with any of them!” Virgil finally got to argue back, but truth be told he didn’t want to. He wanted to be as far away from this situation as possible. 

“I mean~ if I’m not wrong, Roman was there,” Remus felt the need to contribute, as always. 

“Sure but we were not ‘hanging out’! We were in the same room for like five minutes,” he was sure that Janus would be able to take offense to the situation how it was truthfully, the embellishments were not needed. 

“Well it seems like,” Janus drew this part of the sentence out,”that you’re making us look bad for your own gain.”

“God forbid I take some fucking oreos from the light sides. You told me to get closer to them! You wanted this!” After weeks of not speaking to each other, this argument was a long time coming. Now Janus had stood up and angled himself towards Virgil. Remus seemed quite entertained.

“When I told you to ‘get closer to the light sides to improve our standings’, I did not mean stand in their kitchen and check Roman out!��� Virgil froze at this. He had already felt mix emotions on the whole affair, and now somehow Janus knew? Well, Anxiety could figure out that his lie about Remus had alerted him, and the master of disguise himself must have been hiding from that point forward, but when did he leave?

“You checked out my brother?” Remus didn’t seem particularly angry, more amused. “You know I’m the hotter sibling Virgil, I mean come on.”

“I looked at him. You make it sound like I grabbed him by the sash or some shit!” Virgil’s face was flushed with both anger and embarrassment now. He wanted to downplay the whole thing further, but Janus would see through that.

“You might as well have,” Janus retorted.

“Oh fuck you,” Virgil had never wanted to be in a room with Janus less than in this very moment. 

“Kinda sounds like you don’t want to fuck him, Roman however…” Remus chimed in. Both other sides glared at him for a second before returning to glaring at each other. 

“You might as well, if you are going to throw away everything you have with us you might as well maximize it,” Janus almost seemed hurt. He was mostly maintaining a snarky, “gotcha” tone, but Virgil could see through it ever so slightly. That was not helping Virgil in the slightest. 

“I’m not going to fuck the Prince! God you exaggerate everything, having a conversation with you is fucking horrific! Just once I’d like to not feel like a fucking pawn on a chess board!” For years, Virgil had done Janus’ bidding. Sometimes they agreed on it, most times they didn’t, but this was the first time Virgil had explicitly yelled about it. 

“If you could take one for the team that would be great actually! What else are we going to do? Send Remus in?” He had a point. 

“I’ll do it!” Remus did not have a point.

“No, that wouldn’t work. But Virgil is able to communicate with the others without disturbing them too much, I guess he just doesn’t care enough for us to do it, “ Janus pointedly looked back towards Virgil who scoffed at this notion. “You might as well go and join them, see if they’ll let you. Maybe if you get on your knees and cry about how terrible we are they’ll pity you. Maybe if while you’re on your knees you suck off Roman, then you can cross over!”

“God I hate you! I fucking hate you!” Virgil didn’t think he had ever been more enraged in his entire life. He was on his way to storm out of the room, convinced nothing else would come from this conversation when he made one final look at Deceit. “I’m done with this. And if I ever, ever get a chance to leave you in any other capacity than how I’m doing right now, I will jump on it.” 

“Yeah good luck with that. They hate you, remember?” Janus screamed into the hallway. Virgil didn’t respond. He sunk back into the seat he had been resting in and rubbed his temples.

“Well that was bad,” Remus had broken the silence with a bit too cheery of a tone.

“Really? I thought it went rather well.” Janus did not in fact think it went well. 

[gion-division]

With the COVID numbers slowly rising again (unfortunately), that's got me thinking of a question I wanted to ask...

If COVID took place in the HypMic universe, how would your OC's handle it? Would they slowly go insane from being trapped indoors? Would they develop an unhealthy drinking/smoking habit? Or would they be perfectly fine?

Koyumi herself is fine. She considers herself someone who can adapt to things pretty well, even if she is rather shaky at first. She’ll follow the regulations done to a T, will watch over Moriko and Honoka as usual, etc. She’ll be the one to go shopping for whatever the team needs to too. As expected of the Division leader, she’s got it all held together!

But what she is worried about is her profession. Her entire job centers around people; engaging in conversations, pouring tea and performing for them, etc. If she can’t do any of that, then what happens to her? Geishas are already becoming pretty scarce in the modern day because of a lack of interest, this is just making it worse…Sure she can take on some other jobs in the meantime to make income, but she definitely won’t enjoy it as much…

Honoka wouldn’t care that much to be honest. In fact, she’s the most unaffected about the pandemic. Yes, concepts such as ‘wear a mask when going outside’ and ‘social distancing’ are new and confusing to her when Koyumi first tells her about it, but considering the fact that she never went outside that much anyway, does she really need to worry?? All of Honoka’s hobbies are indoors too, so she’ll just be chilling honestly. Hana No Joō all live in the same home as well, so all of the important people in her life is right next to her. It’s not that bad!

Knowing this terminally ill child though, she’s probably gonna get COVID anyway despite all of this. Someone help her. When will she be free of this curse?

Moriko would’ve definitely had a harder time adjusting to the pandemic if she was still an actress, but now? Considering how many hours she needs to spend on drawing panels, she can’t really complain! At least she might be able to actually complete things before the deadline now since she can’t go outside much anymore; she keeps finishing her manga at the last minute because of how much she spends her time doing things outdoors. Besides, it’s not like she’ll be completely bored and only working! She can do some video game streams too whenever she’s on break, and her teammates can join in!

I guess the only thing she’s gonna miss is the in-person interactions between her and her fans…Seriously, those are so fun! She’s quite an affectionate person too, so the ‘social distancing’ thing is dreadful for her.

Yudai is DYING. Seriously, this is the most terrible situation he could imagine! He understands why these rules are established but he will continue to complain endlessly about it until his teammates distract him with something else—like gaming. He’s unintentionally the worst one out of everyone here due to his natural extroverted-ness; he gets all touchy/affectionate when greeting aka he doesn’t do social distancing, sometimes he pulls the mask below the nose, he sneaks outside anyway, etc. Get Fumio to whack him.

And you know what’s worse? You know what he hates the most? He can’t go to the fucking beaches. That’s literally what made him famous, his love for water and being a swimmer—And you’re telling me he can’t do it anymore?! Yeah his house in Enoshima has a pool that he can swim in but it’s not enough! Not enough at all!! Even the backyard lake he has back in Hokkaido is not enough for him and that’s significantly bigger! Fuck you Coronavirus! …….Maybe he should actually go into that pool to cool his head for now. Time to get mopey again.

…Well shit. Asuka is slightly distraught at the fact that he needs to stay inside. Being outside is literally his job, the whole point of archaeology is to discover ancient things, so this…sucks. It really does. He’s fine with the whole ‘online’ thing, he can definitely still teach people who are training to become archaeologists or just wants to learn history/culture in general, and he can still do part-time jobs online too but…He just doesn’t get the same energy.

…I mean, he was never a complete stickler for the rules anyway. As long as you stay away from people and wear your mask then you can be outside, right? Sooooo he can definitely go explore as long as he’s not near anybody, yeah? Yeeaahhh? :)

Fumio is hands-down the only sane person in the entire Solar Siren team when it comes this pandemic, he’s perfectly fine just being inside the household with his plants. Peace and quiet, his beloved. However, he’s looking at his teammates with the most scared look because of their feral ‘I-need-to-be-out-in-the-world’ aura. Unfortunately for his ass, he is still gonna get dragged around by Yudai whenever the olympic swimmer wants to leave anyway so someone pray for him please—Fumio doesn’t get as easily sick as Honoka does but he’s still the physically weakest out of the team so!

[staring-at-my-keyboard]

Rambling about my OCs!

Disclaimer: I may update/change a few things here on occasion

Brief rundown

Thomas and Atlas are romantic partners living in Fallen London, which is basically Victorian London: cosmic horror edition and also underground (from the browser game of the same name. You should give it a try)!

For those familiar, Atlas is based off my player character and Thomas is a combination of the Exquisite Beauty and the Master Jewel Thief with my own ideas thrown in.

They live in a shared apartment and pay rent through Atlas' artistic commissions and Thomas' only somewhat modest family wealth, along with his more illicit hobby of theft.

The setting, Fallen London

Like I said before, it's a slightly more horrific Victorian London, taking place specifically in 1899. It was stolen underground by bats over 30 years beforehand, and has since adapted to its new surroundings and rulers. The city and what surrounds it- the Unterzee, the scattered islands therein, the Elder Continent...- are in the Neath, which operates by different rules than the Surface when it comes to more abstract concepts like death and sanity. That is to say, they have a rather more transient nature.

Also, the Empress decreed London shall never pass into the 20th century, so it is always 1899.

I only comprehend about 1/5 of the lore and have only had this game for a year so please don't expect complete accuracy to the Neathverse in my writing.

Atlas

Pronouns: he/they

Gender:

Age: definitely somewhere North of 25, most likely somewhere South of 30 (he lost track)

Story: Not native to the Neath, he originally made his way downwards seeking to avenge the death of his brother, whose murderer he pursued to Fallen London. As he got swept up into chaotic city life, while hunting his brother’s killer he discovered his love for archaeology and investigation, along with a keen interest in the Correspondence. His studies and interests and occasional PI work, not to mention his entire reason for entering the Neath, lets little time for social conventions. His odd demeanor and questionable ability to properly dress for formal occasions leaves him with few friends and little tolerance from the wealthy. Nevertheless, he wound up firmly entrenched within the throngs of the upper echelons of the population rather on accident-- his self-published writings caught the attention of the right people, and his commissioned works kept it. Seen as a genius (and sometimes even believing it), writing novels and plays or composing orchestras for the Empress' Court becomes a large source of his income. However, he still never finds himself attaining the complete respect of high society— when independent, he is as likely to publish a remarkable philosophical contemplation as he is to write a collection of sensational penny-dreadfuls, and his ability to navigate the labyrinthine tribulations known as polite conversation tends to randomly swing from breathtakingly charming to staggeringly uncouth, and everywhere in-between. He misses wind and Sunlight and flowers and rain, but refuses to regret his decision- he has already died and came back in the Neath, he cannot return to the Surface now.

Miscellaneous: he has incredibly frequent nightmares coupled by occasional lapses in reality. some call them "the burden of genius," he calls them "a bloody irritating ordeal of little meaning".

He has been stabbed 3 separate times for 3 separate reasons: once by an academic rival, once in a mugging gone wrong, and once by a serial killer.

Due to his studies of the Correspondence, a forbidden language that literally and figuratively burns, his hands are covered in scars.

Thomas

Pronouns: he/him

Gender: cis male

Age: 31

Story: Born in London less than a decade after the Fall, his family was perfectly content with the city's new situation and he, therefore, never experienced much interest in the Surface he had never experienced. A beloved socialite and heir to a fortune, he has been surrounded by the privileged and proper his entire life. As a result of this he is incredibly charismatic, often hiding his true opinions and feelings beneath a toothy smile and flattering remark. In reality he is quite fickle, and it is rare for him to come across someone whose company he genuinely enjoys. He garners frequent attention from the Empress' Court, his looks and comportment earning him the title of 'Alluring Scion' (formerly 'Acclaimed Beauty'). Growing bored of trivial Court politics, sick of constant scrutiny, and having read one too many crime thrillers, he found himself becoming an occasional jewel thief. Said pastime is also a method to exercise his intelligence in a manner more thrilling than inconsequential academic debate against those attempting to seem smarter than they are. He has little need for extra wealth, and only commits his acts of larceny for the sake of testing himself or pettiness-- whether that be by knocking jewelers he dislikes down a peg or assessing his capabilities against museums' security. He has little knowledge of the world beyond consuming art and innumerable banquets, fêtes, and soirées, having never had any need to emerge from his sheltered life.

Miscellaneous: he has insomnia, and an insatiable love of penny-dreadfuls, much to the scorn of his peers. So, most nights he finds himself up until the wee hours of the morning reading something with a questionably designed cover and even more questionable plot, and stacks of them are a lasting presence on his nightstand. Every street vendor knows him by name.

His parents having made him learn fisticuffs throughout his entire childhood combined with his current life means he is deceptively dangerous, and that despite his mien he can be impulsive to a physical degree when it comes to matters he cares about.

His parents also sold their souls before he was born for the sake of wealth and good standing with the powerful faction of Hell.

[toonietoon36]

The Copycat

Written by Toonie, a gift for @sweettoothstomp

Disclaimer: this is an oc based story including The Copycat, created by my dear friend, and my own toontown self insert Toonie. This is written in the point of view of Toonie, recounting events.

----------------------------------------------------------

Things never were quite the same after the disappearance of Copycat, they were always such a pleasant cog to converse with. Their abilities were unmatched compared to other advance cogs, the ability to disguise themselves as anything and anyone- cog or toon -was quite the feat! However ever since they disappeared into seemingly thin air any discussion about them has been unpleasant to say the least.

Brian keeps bringing up how the task if they were to be found is to hard reset the copycat to restore them to their designated purposes. I think that to be cruel and unjust, however the words of lawfulness fall flat as a boardbot. Everyone seems to agree that resetting them is the best course of action to keep our guards high and our eyes on the toons in case they were to attack again without warning. Having a cog that can take the form of a toon is quite useful when keeping tabs on the toon population, however being able to do so without Copycat is near impossible since none of us could ever perfectly replicate a disguise of such magnitude.

I wish I knew where they had gotten to, I miss seeing my dear friend and college. Our shared interactions were never stale and sometimes the mirror trick was quite fun. I still remember the first time they had shifted into me and gave me quite the fright, back when my hair was still long.

Through the pondering and remembering of the boardbot the door creaked slightly at the entry of the managers lounge. A small, grey and whiskered face peered in cautiously as it surveyed the area only jumping with surprise when its eyes locked with the greyish-blue ones of the cog staring directly back at them.

Toonie stood up quick and stared down at the toon with shock before grabbing them roughly by the scruff of the neck to drag them into the empty lounge, slamming the door shut behind them. With the speed of a whip the imposing cog turned to face the toon.

"YOU!" their voice a stern thrum "What the heck are you doing here?! I knew I recognized those eyes the moment we made eye contact!"

The dazed feline shook their head to steady themselves before rubbing their arm anxiously. Quietly their form stretched abnormally before taking a completely new shape, one of originality. Not long Copycat stood opposed to the slightly taller cog.

"I... I came to see you-! I missed you. I-"

"ARE YOU NUTS?!" The abrupt interruption caused them to jump. "Do you have any idea how risky this is?! Ever since you went walkabouts everyones been making plans for your return!"

Toonie's fingers tangled themselves in their hair as they tried to get a grip on their anxieties. Their feet beginning to pace back and forth.

"What plans? A return party?" The oblivious feline cog tried to lighten the situation much to the dismay of their coworker

Toonie's eyes relocked with Copycats as panic and almost anger flooded them.

"No! They want to reset you! Hard reset."

Just the mere utterment of hard resetting brought fear to anyone, the feline was no exception to this. The synthetic hairs on the back of their neck stood on edge as their tail wrapped around their leg nervously.

"Good cogs... If anyone here finds you you'll be in so much shit.."

"This was a bad idea."

"No doyee! You could of left a note under my door or something! But... I'm glad I got to see you again at least. I've missed talking to you." Toonie let out a solemn sigh as they lowered their hands from their hair. "But you really need to go before someone else comes in here."

A strangled and shaky breath left Copycat as they nodded, understanding what needed to be done. Their form returned to that of a grey cat toon before looking up to their friend. The cog got on a knee and held out their arms which were soon filled by the toon. Their embrace short and saddening.

"I'll lead you outside. But we have to be quick before someone shows up, last time I saw Mary around was when she was leaving for patrol, she could be back anytime now."

Thankfully the escape route was easy and swift, when outside of the boardbot headquarters Toonie ruffled the cats fuzzy head as a goodbye.

"Now get out of here before you're reset, or worse, scrapped"

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[forrestfanfics]

So This is Love || Age of Ultron 10: “Dear Sister”

“So This is Love” Masterlist

Previous Chapter  ||   Next Chapter  

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I kept my eyes down, examining the white and black suit that wrapped around my body perfectly. The outline of the clothes I wore underneath was practically invisible. But I could still feel how uncomfortable the loose pyjamas were. My dad was right about avoiding baggy clothes.

My first real mission and I felt completely uncomfortable.

There wasn't enough time to make a new suit, so my dad tossed me the prototype and prayed nothing could pierce my gravity bubbles. If they were gravity bubbles.

"No way, we all get through this." I turned my attention away from my suit and to my dad. "If even one tin soldier is left standing, we've lost. There's gonna be blood on the floor."

"I got no plans tomorrow night," Steve commented.

"I got first crack at the big guy. Iron Man's the one he's waiting for."

Just then, the vision guy walked past behind my dad. "That's true. He hates you the most."

I snicker at that.

Both Banner and Steve shift their heads towards me and then to my dad, who sighed.

"As much as I hate to do it, we need all the help we can get. If she ends up either getting hurt or getting in the way, I want the nearest Avenger plucking her off the battlefield."

"Don't worry. We won't let anything happen to Y/N," Steve stood up and held his fist out to me, waiting with a small smile.

I bumped my gloved fist against his. He chuckled and brought his hand up to ruffle my hair before he walked away.

"Good luck out there, kid. We don't want to lose you." Banner patted my shoulder twice as he followed after Steve.

"Y/N, I want you to listen very carefully," my dad spoke once the two were out of range.

"Whatever happens out there, I'm asking... No, I'm telling you to be careful. And put those powers to good use. Bubble yourself when necessary. No speaking around civilians, as we haven't quite figured out your voice masking. And lastly. For the love of all good things, do not make me worry by doing something stupid, you understand?"

I frowned but nodded anyway. "Dad. If anything happens to me, it's not your fault. It's mine for being so pushy. I don't know why I was suddenly so stubborn and... Antsy... Angsty? Anst...sy...? Whatever. I think it's because I was given an opportunity to break free from my endless routine. And I did everything in my power to push through... So y'know..." I give an awkward shrug. "I'm sorry."

The heavy sigh from my dad amped up my anxiety as I stood so small before him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, ready for whatever was coming.

But instead of the usual reprimanding, I was met with a hug.

"I hope this marks the end of our fights. I don't want a venom-laced argument every time we disagree on something."

I nodded in agreement. "Truce?"

"Truce."

●    ◉    ◎    ◈    ◎    ◉    ●

"Hey, Dad. Guess who I am," I said, standing on the edge of the building I was situated on, allowing the wind to blow against my hair.

I spotted the Iron Man suit flying in the distance, glancing my way for a brief moment.

I heard my earpiece beep once before a heavy sigh came up through my earpiece.

"Batman," I clarified, making my voice deeper.

"I'm confiscating your comic books when we get back."

I laughed. "Why? What's wrong with Batman?"

"He's not even a real superhero. He's just a billionaire in a suit," my dad argued.

"WOAHOHO! Sounds very familiar," I countered.

"This is different. This is real life. We'll come back to this conversation when they finally make a consistent franchise."

I huffed. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I think you're jealous that Batman sounds way cooler than Iron Man," I said smugly.

"Y/N, weren't you given a task? Get back to work. And remember: no talking."

Another beep sounded off, and I could no longer hear my dad.

I shook my head and brought up the pair of binoculars Steve gave me to scan the crowd for any obvious men made of metal.

"I dunno. Seems clear to me." Realising I had been given the red herring of all tasks to keep me off their asses.

I clicked my tongue as I lowered the binoculars, kicking a loose piece of rubble off the roof.

Where it landed was a mystery, but just as it disappeared, I noticed movement by the river.

Lifting my binoculars back up, a mini Ultron could be seen climbing up a rock.

Then more came, bursting out of the ground, jumping in from above, coming from all directions.

"Shit, shit! Guys? Incoming from literary everywhere!" I spoke into my earpiece before ditching the binoculars and jumping off the roof and into the crowd.

Panic arose from the civilians, causing them to scramble, breaking away from their path.

"Roger."

"Don't say shit."

"Rogers..."

"This is it, Y/N. The first of many battles." I said giddily, bubbling a bot and shooting it into space. I quickly remembered what my dad said about keeping my mouth shut and held back a squeal, continuing my strategy of bubbling and launching the bots away.

My excitement was very clear with each bot that I disposed of. Not par for the course given the circumstances.

The screams coming from the bridge gave me the impression that our evacuation plan had been compromised.

A loud crash came from the street ahead of me, and I watched in awe as Pietro took out several bots all in one go.

"Whoa," I mumbled to myself.

The distraction served as an opportunity for one of the bots to tackle me from behind, trapping me in a chokehold and lifting me from the ground.

"As much as I enjoy this little sibling rivalry of ours, I'm afraid... There can be only one." I saw the bot's hand in the corner of my eye, ready to blast me out of existence.

"F-Fuck!" I gasped, clawing the metal hand around my neck.

"Hello, dear sister." Ultron's voice came from the robot, sending a chill up my spine. "You were adopted, you over-grown tin can!" I spat through chokes.

I quickly outstretched my hand towards it. But instead of a bubble, the fabric around my forearm ripped into shreds as a purple claw-like blade came slicing through the bot's arm.

I was dropped, and the bot looked down at its elbow where the blade went through.

I took the chance to bubble it with my right —non-blade— hand and launched it into the sky with the rest.

I looked down at my arm, heavily panting at the sight of the purple mass starting from my elbow.

"What The FUUUUUUUCK!" I screamed in horror as it slowly morphed into the shape of my arm, purple hue fading into my normal skin colour.

"Neoma? Y/N, what's wrong?"

I couldn't even focus on the voice coming from my earpiece as I examined my arm from all angles, still feeling a bit of the blade's shape around it, much like a phantom blade.

I have officially come to the conclusion that I was definitely not an ordinary kid.

"Y/N, speak to me. Is everything alright?"

Before I could even respond, the ground shook vigorously beneath me.

I held my arms out to regain my balance as buildings in the distance began to sink.

I hurriedly rushed towards them, only to come to a full stop by a cliff.

That's when I realised. The buildings weren't sinking.

Part of Sokovia was rising.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───