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seeingivy · 5 months

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death by a thousand cuts

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: a wild taylor as gojo has appeared. enjoy. satoru as taylor swift anon who is always in the asks, this is for you. i see you and i hear you.

“holy shit. there’s no way you’re on his fucking linked in during class?” megumi whispers.

you feel your eyes widen as you look to your left to find a very, deeply distraught megumi staring at you. and it’s almost like clockwork, the way he abandons his accounting spreadsheet – and quickly slides into the messages app on his laptop.

the three consecutive buzzes of your phone thrum under your thigh come before you see nobara and yuuji turn their heads back, two rows ahead of you in the lecture hall, and looking awfully more distraught than megumi.

“you’re kidding.” nobara mouths.

“freak!” yuuji whispers, earning you a set of weird glances from the group at your right.

you glare at the two of them, before turning to megumi and bringing your foot down on top of his. megumi winces, giving you a very characteristic and unbothered eye roll, before he returns to finishing up his spreadsheet.

you pull your hood up over your ears, cheeks warm and pink from embarrassment, before you focus back on the screen.

you know that he’s right. that there is really no point at looking at his account – not when you have all of the details memorized.

Satoru Gojo Senior Data Science Student @ Tokyo Technical Institute

three work experiences. data analytics intern for the justice project. hackathon project lead. meadow investments development engineer.

two degrees under his education. because he’s dual enrolled and set to get a bachelor’s in computer science and a masters in engineering by the end of his term next year.

and one organization. alpha kappa psi, the business fraternity.

the only reason you were at the scene of the crime.

it was all miwa’s fault. and partially yours, for being so willing to come to her aid – at all times. when she asked you to accompany her to the bid party – just because she wanted to support mechamaru fresh in their new relationship and didn’t do too well in social situations – you had all but obliged. at the most, you would get a cheap shot and brownie points to get miwa to run the errands for the entire month.

except when it came to it, miwa wasn’t nervous at all, only because mechamaru had spent the past few weeks hyping her up to his pledge class. which left you alone, stuck to roam around until she was ready to leave at the end of the night.

the floor was sticky with beer, there was an almost rancid, putrid smell lingering in the air that you couldn’t pinpoint, and you were stuck with sixty of your peers – shitfaced to a point you didn’t even know was humanly possible.

and with miwa long gone, doing god knows what with mechamaru and you were stuck leaning against the fridge, bored out of your mind. that’s when he found you – pawing your way through the food.

his smell was the first thing that caught your attention, second to the fact that he was hovering over your shoulder, cheeks brushing against each other. it was almost minty and stark – almost eradicating the lingering smell of weed that was burning your nose.

the skin on his cheek was soft, featherlike when it brushed against yours.

“whatcha doing, dollface?”

you immediately curl your nose, turned off by the unnecessary sweetness. you had your fill of dirty frat boys during orientation week, three years ago, and knew damn well that you had to steer clear of whatever was happening here.

“playing where’s waldo, genius. i’m obviously looking for food.” you state.

you reach for the closest box, a perfectly cut slice of cake, encased in a wrap. the plastic is covered in messy scribbles on the top – spelling out satoru in loopy letters.

“you’re just going to eat someone else’s cake?” he asks.

“how do you know it’s not mine?”

“intuition.”

it’s only then that you stop yourself to look up at this stranger whispering in your ear, only to find glimmering blue eyes, peering over the top of a set of sunglasses. the sunglasses are god awful – even worse with the combination of the tanktop and the snapback he’s wearing backwards.

you swear there’s a faded, glittery pink lipstick mark indented at the top of his cheek.

“you-you’d be shocked.” you stutter, as you pull the box out of the fridge and place it on the counter.

he momentarily walks away – which is when you take the second to ogle him in full. a toned back, a tattoo on the top of his shoulder that you can’t entirely make out. white hair, veiny arms, and a silver necklace hanging against his collarbone.

he returns back, two forks in hand, before making a dramatic display of handing you one.

“for you, my sweet lady.”

“i’m not sure why you brought two forks. who said i was going to share with you?”

he grins, leaning his head back to laugh like a little kid, before he scoots closer to you – the sweet scent coming back.

“c’mon.”

he reaches for your hand, before lifting it to place it against his chest. you can feel his heart beating under the feeling of your fingertips, his eyes wide and expectant as he waits for and answer.

“do me a favor, yeah? let me share my cake with a pretty girl at a party. there’s only a limited amount of joys in this life.”

you scoff, before pulling your hand back.

“you’re corny.”

he shrugs.

“you’ll get used to it.”

you groan, as you slam your computer shut – the image of his shiny headshot staring back at you getting burned into your eyes.

stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid.

one stupid joke, a slice of cake, and somehow you woke up in his bed the next day being spooned by him. and one thing led to the next because he was somehow taking you to brunch, then settling his head in between your legs before dinner, and then back at your house the next day.

it was an arrangement at that point. the dinners, what happened in between, and the morning after.

you’re not sure what the terms and conditions are in a predicament like yours – with a guy like satoru. you know for a fact that he still flirts with other girls, because you’d see him walking with a different one every time you stopped at the coffee shop. but then he’d invite you to dinner, honey sweet words falling from his lips before he tucked you in for bed each night.

friends with benefits. but he buys you gifts and takes you to dinner. and calls you beautiful. comes to your house after frat parties, with the faintest scent of a flowery perfume on his neck that you swear you’re imagining.

letting him walk out of your apartment was your own personal tourture, of death by a thousand cuts, because every step farther away from you was closer to someone else.

and that sinking, deep rooted dread, only got worse as time went on.

you feel a hard smack against your head.

“do your fucking homework.”

satoru gojo has distinct features that you always find yourself staring at. a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his pointer finger, and the rings he wore. sometimes, you find yourself asking them about him.

you reach forward, locking your fingers in on the chain around his neck, and using it to pull him closer. it's of a little postage stamp, though the silver looks rusted – like he’s worn it to death. he’s quick to oblige, a warm kiss on your cheek, before you yank again.

“what, baby?” he whines.

“where’d you get your necklace?”

he leans back, looking down at the chain, before his eyes meet yours again. there’s a dim fluorescent glow coming in from the blinds of the window, sun far gone in the horizon, and it’s the only thing that makes this bearable.

that his piercing blue eyes somewhat subdued from the lack of light.

“you want it, princess?”

“what? no. i just like it. i wasn’t –”

it’s a boyish giggle that comes out of satoru’s mouth as he quickly unfastens the clasp from his neck before tangling it in his fist.

you’re not an idiot – because it’s his freezing cold fingers pulling your shirt over your head – before he pulls you into his lap.

this was one of satoru’s favorite things to do. pull you close, till you’re straddling him in his lap, and you can feel his breath tickling against his collarbone as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

you wonder if he can see your blush in the dim light. if that’s part of why he likes it – seeing the effect he has on you.

he reaches forward, pulling your hair to the side and pressing a kiss to your collarbone, before he fastens his silver necklace around your neck.

“you know. when i said i liked your necklace, i said i liked it on you. i wasn’t asking for it.”

“but i like seeing you wear it more.”

satoru’s eyes are focused as he fixes the tangles in the chain, letting the little charm hang right in the little divot where your collarbone ends. and then he brings his hands in around your face, nearly squishing the softness of your cheeks together, before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“will you wear my hoodie?” he jokes.

you scoff.

“are we in sixth grade? also, it quite literally says ‘yuuta’s big’ on the sleeve. that’s not obvious at all.”

satoru rolls his eyes.

“you would love yuuta, though. he’s your pseudo little brother, because you’re with me, you know?”

you shake your head, as you crawl out of his lap, and reach for the water bottle on the side table. you try to ground yourself, head spinning as you try to decipher what that means – and tap your feet on the floor.

you can feel him at your side, his observant blue eyes burning holes into your skin, as you note the steady, almost cautious tone in his voice.

“you okay? something i said?”

you shake him off.

“yeah, yeah. sorry. got out of the mood there for a second, just have a lot to do this week.”

satoru hums, before bringing his hands around your torso, leaning his entire weight against you as he settles his chin into the crook of your neck.

“you ever think you work too hard, pretty girl?”

“working hard or hardly working?” you joke. even his corny jokes were rubbing off on you.

you hear satoru scoff, before he starts rubbing circles into the bare skin of your stomach, as the goosebumps start to trickle over your skin.

“oh, don’t be like that. you’re the smartest person i know.”

“is this a clever way to get into my pants?”

“no. it’s me telling you that i think you’re very intelligent, you’re very driven, and you don’t have to worry about if you’re working hard enough. i know the only breaks you take are to go to that dumb movie theater downtown with your grumpy friend or when you scream my name every –”

“satoru.” you whine.

“don’t say my name like that. it turns me on.”

you grin.

“satoru.” you hum, teasing him.

“fuck off.”

he pauses, before pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

“but really. you’re a clever, you’re pretty, and irritatingly very accomplished. slow down so i can catch up, okay?”

“that’s rich coming from you. mister three internships, two degrees in four years.”

it’s quiet.

“how’d you know that?” satoru asks.

you can hear the smile in his voice. and the dread pooling in your stomach.

“what?”

“how’d you know it was two degrees?”

“you-you told me.”

“no, i didn’t. i just got accepted a few weeks ago, i haven’t even told some of my friends yet.”

you groan, before bringing your hands up to your face. you bury your eyes into the sockets of your eyes, getting caught embarrassedly red handed.

“where?”

you sigh.

“i stalked you on linked in.”

satoru grins wide, before pulling you back onto the bed and into his embrace. you can hear his giggling in your ear as you try to pull away.

“oh, baby you didn’t.”

“i had to make sure i didn’t apply where you worked!”

“no, you didn’t. we don’t even work in the same field.”

“you don’t know! i could change my mind!”

satoru laughs, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“you have a crush on me! angel, you should have just said so!”

you give him a hard push, before crossing your arms over your chest.

“quit teasing. so i’m a stalker! so what? i just want to make sure i’m not putting out for a loser. you could be coding some AI for the government for all i know and i don’t want to be –”

“okay, okay. relax. i’m just teasing, i just think it’s cute you keep tabs on me.”

you glare.

“i don’t like you.” you state.

he rolls his eyes, before flopping his head down on your pillow and tapping the space next to him. you crawl into the space, before nestling yourself into his arms. you can feel your brain spiraling – instant regret for saying too much, being too weird, too harsh, and not saying what you felt – as you focus on the feeling of his hands running through your hair.

“i can tell that the hamster in your brain is working overtime. just go to bed, okay?”

“okay, lock the door when you leave?”

“i don’t have plans tomorrow morning. if you could humble yourself to eat breakfast with me, i’d actually like that.”

you frown, stomach jolting in your guts.

he had never stayed for an arbitrary reason – like spending the night just to sleep next to you. you shut your eyes, burying your face deeper into the sweet smell of his skin, and throw the thought away.

“mimosas?”

“you want to drink that early in the morning?”

“it’s saturday. gives me a good kick to start my day.”

“aren’t mimosas made with champagne? i hate champagne. and it makes you really handsy.”

you smile.

“you like when i’m handsy.”

“i mean, yes. but we can just do pancakes and go to the library together so we can do work. i’ll keep you accountable and find you snacks when you get inevitably cranky. then when you come home all tired, we can be as handsy as we want. it’s more satisfying when you have to work for it.”

you groan, burying the complications of spending yet another day with him in the back of your head as you try to flutter your eyes shut – in futile attempts to quiet the thoughts racketing around in your mind.

“okay, okay whatever. we’ll see tomorrow, i just – i’m really tired right now and –”

“shut up, dollface. just sleep.”

you get invited to the alpha kappa psi formal. miwa – who found out from mechamaru, whose pledge class brother is very close with satoru’s little yuuta – said that satoru wanted you there.

then why didn’t he ask you?

you bite the bullet anyways, borrowing one of kugisaki’s pale blue slip dresses – and attend as mechamaru’s pledge brother – todo’s date – to get in.

he’s a strange guy, who doesn’t pay you too much attention. it’s one polite wave and a cardstock ticket he hands you before you don’t see him again for the rest of the night. and you’re stuck with miwa and mechamaru, who are bigger fans of pda than you are.

“how’s satoru, y/n?” mechamaru asks.

“ah. he’s good. you know as much as i do, right?”

you can feel yourself sweating.

would satoru leave if you said too much? if you embarrassed him in front of one of his brothers? did they know you guys had an…arrangement? was it an arrangement? were you seeing each other? why did they think he invited you?

“dunno. aren’t you guys really good friends?” mechamaru asks.

“um, yeah.”

“yeah, he was telling us you studied together at the library the other day. figured he’d want you to meet suguru and ieiri.”

suguru and ieiri.

“yeah. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you guys want anything?”

“i’m good, love. we’ll be here.” miwa states, giving a reassuring squeeze to your bicep before you drag your heels to the makeshift bar.

you walk over to the bar, straight to the open bottle of rosé that has your name on it, as you lean against the wall. you pour way too much into your flute, nearly spilling it over the back of your hand, as you curse.

“do you want help?”

you look up to find a boy looking at you, wide eyes, with his bangs sweeping down the side of his face. he has tired eyes, but it’s a seemingly bright smile he offers you.

“sorry, yeah. i’ll clean it up, i swear.”

“no, no. no problem.”

he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket, before he pulls your hand in his and wipes the excess pink stain on it. you cringe at the stain on the cloth before he tucks it back into his pocket.

“i’m sorry about that. that’s really kind of you, i just –”

“no problem! you seemed…kind of frustrated there. happy to help.”

you shoot him a polite smile, before nervously sipping – maybe a little too fast for comfort. but the warm feeling is enough to temporarily curb the nerves, which is perfect for your sake.

“are you a brother?” you ask.

“yeah! is this your first formal?”

“yeah. i’m seeing someone in your frat and he asked me to come. well, he didn’t ask me to come, he told someone else he wanted me to come so i came as one of the other brother’s date. but not really his date, because i haven't seen him since then. or the guy i’m talking to.”

he leans back, eyes wide.

“right. do you like him? if…if you mind me asking.”

“my date? i can’t even remember his name. he’s like a tall, muscular guy. man bun?”

“no, yeah. his name is todo, i figured that’s who you were talking about. i mean the other guy.”

“oh. well, yeah. but he’s so…i don’t know. he’s a frat guy. and a chronic flirt. the first time i met him he had a lipstick stain on his cheek. and he smells like girly perfume every time he comes to see me, so –”

he sucks his teeth in.

“idiot.” he murmurs.

“what?”

“no! oh my god, not you! i meant…me! just thought of something. gotta run for a second, i’ll be back.”

“wait, you didn’t even tell me your –”

you watch as he rushes off, in a speed walking fervor, as mechamaru and miwa join you at your side. they give you a polite smile, which you return, as you swirl the glass in your hand.

“mechamaru. do you know that guy who just walked away? tired looking, the long hair?”

“oh, yuuta. yeah, what about him?”

“yuuta?”

“yeah, you’ve never met him? he’s like gojo’s pride and joy.”

you sink against the wall, embarrassment coursing through you, as you down the rest of your glass. and then three more, which is accompanied by weary looks from miwa. and after finishing off the entire bottle – an hour and a half into the party without seeing satoru – you’re set on leaving.

and it’s only on your rageful stomp out the door, well past tipsy, that you find the godawful man of the hour, leaning against the wall.

it’s enough to fill you with a rage. because he’s leaning against the wall, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and smiling brightly at whichever girl he’s talking to. you’re almost positive that it’s probably her flowery perfume that you’re smelling on his neck at the time, that she’s who he sees when he’s not with you, and it’s like pins and needles in your stomach.

and you almost make your escape, before he catches you on your way out.

“y/n? wait, y/n!”

you’re one step out the door, before he grabs your bicep, and pulls back, giving you a bright grin.

“i didn’t know you were here yet. i’ve been waiting, come here, c’mhere.” satoru mumbles, quickly rushing you over to the group of three people standing by the door, who all turn their heads for you.

you groan as you turn to the group of them. it’s the same tired eyes as before – that you now know belong to yuuta – and two strangers you’ve never seen before. a guy almost as tall as satoru, with swooping bangs and a manbun, and the girl – who you can’t stand to look at, with perfect beach waves swooping past her shoulders.

and what you can’t help but notice is a sparkling, silver postage stamp necklace around her neck. the same one around yours, that you had been fidgeting with since satoru gave it to you weeks ago.

“here’s your drink, satoru.” the girl states, handing him a glass of white wine that he takes.

it’s enough to make your rage bubble to the surface.

“the lady of the hour, guys! this is y/n, she’s my –”

you scoff.

“are you kidding?”

“hm?”

“lady of the hour? for what, your jokes?”

you watch as satoru’s face drops, before he sets the glass of wine down on the closest table.

“huh? what do you mean? i wanted to introduce you to ieiri, i know you’re going to love her.”

you can feel the tears accumulating in your eyes, that you’re almost positive that satoru notices, because his face visibly droops even more, this time replaced with genuine concern that sends a pang in your chest that has you wrestling your wrist out of his hold.

“you…you’re so mean, satoru.”

“baby, what?”

“don’t…why are you calling me that? every morning you wake up next to me and you’re still not my baby. that’s not exactly fair. you smell like a different girl and you still…you still flirt with other people.” you whisper.

his eyes go wide.

“no, i –”

“every time you walk away i’m half convinced you’re just going to someone else you’re stringing along like me. i’m sitting there thinking about how you’ve walked hundreds of steps away from me hundreds of times and it feels like a thousand little cuts every time you do and it kills me that you don’t even care.”

you can feel that whatever is coming out is word vomit, like it’s started and now it won’t ever stop.

“i see you everywhere, because you literally come everywhere with me just to leave. any song you’ve sang is now our song, any movie, literally anything you’ve even touched. i can’t even wear certain clothes without thinking about how you complimented me in them and i’m stuck thinking about how you probably say that to everyone. you don’t even drink wine and you’re over here drinking some with this random girl at this party, when that’s my thing that we drink wine together. you gave her the same necklace as me, and you apparently asked me to come to but didn’t even tell me about to my face? then you sick your little frat brother to ask me if i like you just so you can….i don’t know, i don’t know what you’d do with that information!”

you watch as satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, only to turn to the three of them at his side, who are all shaking their heads dismissively.

“suguru. i fucking told you he had to be leaving something out.”

“well, i didn’t realize it was going to be like this, shoko. no wonder she won’t date him.”

you swallow hard, as you seem to sink deeper in the pits of your own embarrassment, which seems to be a record low.

“fuck. you…you said her name is shoko?”

geto offers you a smile.

“that’s right.”

“like satoru’s hometown friend? the…the lesbian?”

“that would be me.” she confirms.

you cringe.

“oh my god. i’m really sorry, i’m really drunk. i drank an entire bottle of wine after i accidentally talked to yuuta and i just –”

“well, i’d get drunk if i were you too. he smells like other girls? and flirts with them?” shoko asks.

“i do not! i don’t even know what you’re talking about. i didn’t even know she even liked me back till twenty minutes ago.”

“the necklace is a nice gesture. satoru, geto, and i all have these matching postage stamp necklaces from this shitty place in our hometown. we got them together when we graduated so we wouldn’t forget about what was important when we all go to college.”

you turn to satoru.

“and you just gave that to me?”

“well, i knew you’d take care of it.”

“that’s like…that’s like sentimental, satoru. you literally gave me your childhood best friends memento and that’s so-”

“well, obviously that seems like a little much if you think we’re just friends with benefits!”

you scoff.

“you’re the one who wanted to be friends with benefits.” you clarify.

“what are you talking about? you literally cringe away from any affection i give you!” satoru retorts.

“because you flirt with other girls!”

“not since you! why would i flirt with other people?”

“you tell me. i smell the perfume.”

satoru groans.

“that’s your perfume, dipshit. you left your hoodie at my house and it smells like you so sometimes i sleep next to it and then i smell like it. how do you not recognize your own smell?”

you pause.

“you do what?”

“not in a fucking weird way. i just miss you when you’re busy. you smell nice, it’s –”

“hopeless.” yuuta states, earning him a nod from suguru.

“you didn’t even ask me to come here with you.” you state.

“shoko had to be my date so she could come. i had to make yuuta drag maki in through a window because geto was his plus one. i just wanted you here so you could meet my childhood friends, who i care about. they’ve heard about you for so long that i just thought –”

“you talk to your friends about me?”

“an insufferable amount. though most of his agony seems self inflicted now, because he’s a fucking idiot.” shoko confirms.

“okay, let’s get y/n some water, yeah?” yuuta suggests, before shuffling the two of them off, to which satoru sends a grateful smile before turning back to you.

he crouches down a little, just so your eyes are level, as you frown at him.

“is this what that hamster in your brain is doing up there? overthinking literally everything?”

“you –”

“if you asked, i would have clarified for you. we’ve always been exclusive and if you talked to someone else while we were talking, i’m going to have to kill him.”

“don’t be stupid.”

“i’ll just send a threat! sign his emails up for scientology. he was talking to my girl!”

you glare at him.

“you…you’re so stupid, satoru. you confuse me so much and i just…you take up too much space. you’re everywhere – literally no part of me that you haven’t taken up and i just…”

satoru frowns, before pulling his hands around your face, and angling up by your chin to look at him.

“don’t give up now. it just got good.” he whispers.

“satoru.”

“cmon. let me lick all thousand of your cuts clean.”

“ew. you’re…you’re so gross, satoru.”

“okay, that was just a dirty joke. but let me make it up to you, really. i didn’t realize you…you were thinking all that. i thought you just liked me because i was sexy and because i eat your –”

“satoru!”

“please. let me into that hamster ball in your brain. i deserve some space.”

“it’s all boarded up. the hamster ball house burned down.” you groan.

he leans back, like he’s inspecting your face, before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“dunno. i’m seeing some flickering lights in there. i can tell your hamster in there really wants me.”

“quit….quit calling me a hamster! you’re so…ugh. i have a headache and i’m drunk and i’m really confused and i just –”

satoru mimics a little salute, before he loops his hand around your waist and walks you towards the little bar.

“okay, test run. i’m on boyfriend duty. if this goes well enough, you give me a chance tomorrow.”

you squint your eyes at him.

“okay, water first. then i have two baby aspirin for you in my pocket. three kisses on the cheek if you won’t insult me after and a compliment if you won’t kill me.”

“really?”

“yuuta told me you downed a whole bottle. since you’re too mad to be handsy, you have a headache. but don’t worry, i came prepared. meaning i forced yuuta to find some baby aspirin or else. and also, kisses because you smell good and you’re wearing this pretty blue dress that’s the same color as my eyes and you’re about to meet my favorite people ever and you’re my favorite person ever, so this is a big deal.” satoru responds.

he’s rambling so hard that you feel like you can see the hamster in his mind working overtime.

“what’s the verdict?”

satoru’s voice is like a thousand bullets in your head as you smack him in the face, trying to silence the chattering coming out of his mouth.

“satoru. what…what time is it?”

“six in the morning. but it’s the next day and i need to know how my test run went.”

“your….what?”

satoru whines.

“no, no don’t tell me you’re too drunk to remember? my test run! to be your boyfriend?”

you groan, flickering your eyes open to the alarm clock on your bed, spelling out the time. 6:07 am.

“no, i remember. you need the answer at six in the morning when i’m hungover?”

“this is agony! i really get this whole thousand cuts thing now, this hurts. tell me.”

you push his face into the pillow, before mumbling it as quietly as you can.

“you pass.”

“huh?”

“you heard me. you passed. just…shut up, please.”

it’s his giggles you hear before sleeping and a warm kiss on your forehead, before you pass out again.

satoru as taylor swift songs masterlist

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 months

Note

With the latest Science Experiment!Reader - how would Jason react after her nightmare? Would Jason try to stay with her after the nightmare so she doesn’t wake up alone and drugged? Or would he leave, then sneak back up there? Or would she react badly to him being there?

Ari, I can’t thank you enough for sharing these stories - I simply adore them, and am so grateful that you share the gifts of your Muse with us. Be safe, well, and as happy as possible.

I'm just doing my best. One dummy with a laptop and a dream

For two days, you were like a ghost.

The only evidence you'd been anywhere was a shadow. A sense of unease they hadn't felt themselves. A whiff of body spray lingering. The rattle of ice in a metal water bottle.

You hardly ate. You didn't sleep. But you worked. Usually, while the rest of them slept. Buried under piles of data, evidence, and reports. Watching out for new leads.

And Jason could hardly stand it by day three. He looked at your empty chair at breakfast. Everyone else had long since left. Leaving he and Bruce the only ones still nursing coffee. "Don't," Bruce cautioned.

"You tell the rest of us to get over it," Jason snorted.

"The rest of you can't make people kill themselves with your mind," Bruce sighed.

"I can make it look like they did," Jason said.

"Not the same thing."

"But-"

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, "Listen. She feels guilty. She feels ashamed. And she's trying to maintain control. I spoke to her and she was... less than stable. It's uncomfortable for her to be this close to people. And it's... well frankly not comfortable for people to be around her unless they're prepared to deal-"

"I watched her scream like a cat in a blender and twist herself into a pretzel while she made Alfred damn near piss his pants," Jason huffed. "I think I can handle some self-hatred and guilt."

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #science #science experiment!reverse

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 6 months

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 13

I hope you all enjoy! please comment and reblog and tell me what u enjoyed <3

MASTAPOST

The reality hit Maddie like a truck, once they’d ferried the kids home, and returned to Fentonworks. Bruce Wayne had excused himself, and went back to his hotel after bidding farewell to them.

That left her and Jack alone on the couch. Jazz was upstairs, probably studying psychology and sciences, on her way to be a genius just like her family.

Just like Danny.

Tears wracked Madeline. Jack was openly sobbing at the couch. Not the silly way he would sometimes cry at small things that he would get over quickly. Maddie could feel the bone-deep anger and grief seeping through her and her husband.

She needed to tell Jazz. Tell her what had happened. But she dreaded the thought of talking to her daughter in this state. It wouldn’t do to give her the news and then break down underneath Jazz’s feet.

That thought didn’t do much to stem the tide. Maddie idly reached for the tea, cold from where they’d left it in the afternoon. The realization that this was happening again, again in the family, rocked her to her bones. Maddie’s mind conjured up images of blood over wooden floors, and red hair spilling out and covering still, dead eyes. Claw marks over a bruised throat.

She had trusted Danny. Loved him more than anything. What mother couldn’t trust their child? That sweet boy whose eyes sparkled with kindness and who jumped up and down on dreams of seeing the stars. His kindness meant he gave anything a chance. She had thought she’d lost him. She had raged and tore through everything and everyone and suddenly, through no result of her actions, he came.

And now he was gone again. Taken, just like her great-great-grandpappy. Just like so many others across the world. Just like Alicia’s son. Never to be seen again.

There had to be a way, an answer. There had to be some kind of inconsistency in the data. Something that could show the path forward, a path where her baby boy could still be out there and able to returned home safe.

Maddie descended the stairs into the labs, ready to look over dusty notebooks, and old journals. Jack followed her soon after, not a word exchanged between them.

To say Bruce Wayne was shaken was an understatement. That girl, Samantha, had no idea what she was talking about. All Bruce was interested in was the safety of his son and Daniel Fenton, and the pursuit of justice.

That didn’t mean she would’ve had a point, once upon a time. How Jason came back, but it wasn’t a joyous celebration, but the beginning of more pain, more misunderstanding and accusation. How Damian first came to them. He had a son who had finally returned home, but there was no celebration then either.

They had just started to get along again. They were this close to being happy.

Bruce held his head in his hands. He needed to review the facts again. The facts, the players, the unknowns and mysteries. Damian just had to be out there, he just had to.

Sirens, the GiW, the Fentons… Where to begin?

A message pinged on his comm. It was from Tim. Had he finished sifting through the files?

Bruce opened his laptop, seeing an email with attached analysis and files. Good work, Tim. He knows how hard it must be for him, to dedicate this effort into saving a brother with whom he had a very rocky start.

The email confirmed many of his suspicions. Tim was able to recover the majority of the files that Tucker Foley had attempted to destroy. Damning evidence showed Samantha and Tucker engaging directly against various sirens, using magic and technology respectively. Daniel Fenton was nowhere near such attacks, but his role as supplier to Phantom was clear. At several points over the last few months, the boy could be seen sneaking into secluded areas with experimental weapons and gadgets stuffed into his pockets, that would later be seen in the webbed hands of Phantom.

Daniel was hardly ever seen in the same vicinity as Phantom, or any other siren. That was not surprising. The kid wasn’t athletic in any way like Samantha, nor did he have her talent for the mystical arts. He didn’t have Tucker’s affinity for technology, either. That, combined with the obvious discomfort around his parents’ grudge against sirens meant that it was reasonable he’d avoid being seen around sirens at all costs, while silently supporting them from the background.

The kid had his convictions, was for sure. But what kind of motive would cause the boy to do such a thing? Going against his parents was normal, almost ubiquitous at that age range. Did this trio harbour desires of becoming a hero, like Dick and Jason and all others that followed?

Tucker Foley kept Tim and the Batcomputer out for half an hour with nothing but a laptop. Sam Manson had an incredible drive to do right, and a less impressive sense of restraint (it pained him how much of his children that reminded him).

It was clear they had the hearts of heroes, and the potential too. But those desires landed his children in immense pain over the years, failures Bruce would regret for the rest of his days, and now those same failures repeated once more.

He needed to do this, for them.

The GiW were suspect. He would need to direct the Batcave into cracking their secrets open. Those men could not be trusted one bit. Not their DNA test, not their documents, not their badges. And certainly not for their CSI skills. They didn’t even report whether there were signs of a struggle on the island where Damian’s blood was found!

And for what motives did the sirens even abduct people in the first place? The more he considered, the more the GiW’s explanation of Damian being devoured seemed like utter bullshit. He hoped that was not denial speaking.

Bruce began to plan.

His phone rang. He ignored it. He formed a list of contacts to call upon for advice and consultation.

His phone rang again. He made a web of connections to the Fentons.

His phong rang, rang, rang again. A collage of every unsolved missing persons’ case ‘from the last twenty years.

The phone answered itself on speaker. It jolted Bruce from his work. Alfred’s stern voice sounded out. “Master Bruce, you are spiraling again, sir.”

Bruce hummed. “I’m working, Alfred.”

“Yes, I know. However, in your pursuit to discover Master Damian’s whereabouts, I must remind you that your other children still need their father. Master Timothy is on his eighth cup of coffee, and Master Richard has sent twelve common crooks to the emergency room. Master Jason had to calm him down, sir. They need you, sir.” Alfred stressed.

Bruce stood up, his back cricking from the strain of hunching over documents and files. He stared at the growing pile of papers on his desk and tabs on his laptop, before sweeping them all to the side.

“You’re right, Alfred. Thank you for reminding me.”

Why? Why? Why, why, why, why why? That was the question running through the Fenton parents’ heads as they combed over observations, data, charts, and historical records. The documents and files sprawled out over the floor of the lab. They had to find the connection, if there was one out there.

Why did the sirens abduct humans?

Despite what the goons in white thought, the biologist in Maddie found herself doubting it was all for food. Considering their latest population estimates, the amount of humans required to sustain siren numbers was completely impractical.

Ok, maybe they don’t have to eat humans, but do it as a luxury?

Such a hypothesis would have seemed more plausible, had there not been a plethora of new data counteracting that point. The Amity Island sirens pursued a number of different goals, very few of which overlapped, very few of which involved eating humans in any way. If there was an incentive to eat humans or even just abduct, then far, far more people would’ve been grabbed off the piers and beaches, even if Phantom could stop them all.

That lead to another question. Why would the sirens of Amity not even bother with abductions for the most part, when the majority of sightings and suspected siren incidents were brought to light because of the missing people?

Maddie kicked the wall. The impact resounded and echoed through the room.

Jack wrapped his arms around her waist tenderly, a calm presence. Maddie’s heart relaxed a little, the scent of chocolate bringing her back to warm nights with the kids. “You know this reminds me of a story grandpa Fenton told me about when he was a kid back during the war.” Jack said quietly. “His grandpa used to be a surveyor or analyst or some kind of smart guy at some big factory, makin’ planes to fight the Japanese. One morning he was banging his head on the desk.”

Maddie wasn’t sure where Jack was going with this, but she nodded for him to continue.

“And so Grandpa Fenton asked him, ‘Gramps, what’s the big deal?’ and great great grandpa showed him these pictures. They showed where bullet holes would appear, said it was to design better armour for ‘em. But the strangest thing was that none of the bullet holes were in the engines or near the tail. Gramps was seriously worked up about it! Spent all day pacin’ back and forth.”

Maddie gasped. Jack continued, although trailing off. “Anyway when Grandpa Fenton told me about it, all I could think of was how nice that they had planes comin’ back anyway. Have you seen the casualty rates for those things? Gave me the stuff of nightmares!”

Information whirled through Maddie’s head.

“And that’s how I gave up my dreams of being a fighter pilot!”

“Jack, you’re a genius!” She shouted. Jack blinked.

“Huh? What for?”

Maddie jumped up and kissed her amazing husband. This was a breakthrough.

It was survivorship bias. The reason none of the planes returning had bullet holes in the engines and lower fuselage was because the planes that had taken hits there were too damaged to return in the first place!

They were too busy looking at what they could see and not spending enough time looking for what they couldn’t. Jack’s great, great grandpa needed to look at the situation holistically, and from there it would all make sense.

What did that mean?

Sirens were crafty. And as they learnt from the attacks on Amity, they were petty, ambitious, power-hungry, lustful, and vengeful, among many other insidious attributes.

She and Jack had been fixating on the missing people cases, but what if those cases were only a small number of the illicit criminal dealings these monsters had been unknowably perpetrating in the human world? And if sirens can commit many, many other crimes than mindlessly violence and murder, then that means there could be any number of other reasons they could abduct a human.

If they wanted revenge or to satisfy their bloodlust, would they not have left a body somewhere? But no such body of either Damian Wayne or Danny was found. If they ate the boys, then the blood would’ve attracted sharks, but no sharks were to be found either.

Terrifying scenarios passed through Maddie’s mind. Slavery, trafficking, arena fighting. Any number of horrendous crimes that would not require any spilt blood. Horrors unimaginable for a woman to see her child suffer through. But a tiny, faint light shone through all of them: hope.

Because she had reason now to believe Danny and Damian Wayne were alive, out there somewhere, praying for their parents to come save them from the nightmare.

Jack blinked, expression blank. “You know I don’t mind staring at your beautiful face for hours, but I feel like there’s something you’ve figured out.”

Maddie’s eyes turned steely and determined. “Jack, get the SAV ready. We’re going on a hunt.”

The only one who knew where the boys were was Phantom, and Maddie would extract every secret that menace kept, even if it meant tearing him apart. Molecule. By. Molecule.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #maddie fenton #jack fenton #good parents jack and maddie #bruce wayne #good parent bruce wayne

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allthecanadianpolitics · 11 months

Text

When you need to drop off your tech devices for a repair, how confident are you that they won't be snooped on? CBC's Marketplace took smartphones and laptops to repair stores across Ontario — including large chains Best Buy and Mobile Klinik — and found that in more than half of the documented cases, technicians accessed intimate photos and private information not relevant to the repair. Marketplace dropped off devices at 20 stores, ranging from small independent shops to medium-sized chains to larger national chains, after installing monitoring software on the devices. In total, 16 stores were recorded. (At four stores, the tracking software didn't log anything, or the stores didn't appear to turn the devices on.) Technicians at nine stores accessed private data, including one technician who not only viewed photos but copied them onto a USB key. "These results are frightening," said Hassan Khan, associate professor in the school of computer science at the University of Guelph. "It's looking through information, searching for data on users' devices, copying data off the device.... it's as bad as it gets."

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#Tech support #Privacy #Computer repair #cdnpoli #canada #canadian politics #canadian news

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uniquexusposts · 5 months

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Her || Charles Leclerc

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fan fiction, fluff Story type: novel Part: 3/? Word count: 1510 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 1. A New Role, A Nervous Start

Matilde entered the meeting room with an apologetic look on her face. She was holding her laptop and notebook under her arm, having a cup of tea in her other hand. "I'm sorry, I walked to the wrong truck," she said and sat down.

"No worries."

As the team principal settled behind her laptop, the other people in her team got ready for the pre-race debrief. They all were eager to discuss the strategy for the upcoming race, the first race, but also talk about track limits, and other information. Yesterday, after qualifying, they talked about the outcomes and the possible strategy for today. Today, it was time to finalise it.

It was the first time Matilde was about to witness the pre-race briefing at her new team. She had been at the briefing yesterday and the day before, but this was different. She still had to figure out how the briefings at Ferrari worked. Matilde was nervous; what could she expect later today? She decided to let the team lead the briefing, since it was them who had to lead their drivers through the race.

"Just like last year, we are considering a two-stop strategy with a soft-hard-hard combination for plan A," Carlos Galbally, Head of Tyre Science, announced after discussing other key points.

Everyone nodded in agreement; they agreed on this yesterday, and it seemed like the right tyre strategy. However, Matilde looked doubtful, keeping her opinion to herself. She listened to the other plans, but none of them felt right to her.

"Do we have other options we are looking at?" Matilde then asked out of curiosity.

The room fell into a brief silence as everyone pondered the options. Matilde could sense the tension, it was like she had said something out of place or that was too personal.

"Just asking," she added, attempting to ease the atmosphere with a soft smile.

"At the moment, not really. Why?" Xavi, the engineer of Charles Leclerc, asked.

"The data shows that the C3 has shown a strong pace," Matilde said. "I suggest we do soft-soft-hard. Gain a safe advantage, perhaps even perform an under or overcut and gain a few spots."

Ravin Jain, Strategy Director, looked at the only woman in the room. "Sounds reasonable," he admitted, but before he could continue, he got interrupted.

"The softs may have shown a strong pace, but they won't last long in these higher temperatures," Charles said, leaning forward. He was confident in understanding how the car felt with different tyres.

Matilde nodded, acknowledging his point. "They won't last long indeed, but they are great to push and gain some positions," she responded. "We expect everyone to start on softs, except Magnussen, and we have seen everyone fly away. If you get the softs in the second stint and push even more, the second stop may be free. And it brings you to the front of the field."

"The hards allow us to postpone the pit stops."

"But you have to stop eventually whether you have softs or hards under your car," Matilde brought in.

Charles sighed and looked at his laptop screen, visibly frustrated by the discussion. "The softs won't last long. It's great to start with them, but the hards give us more time," he said. You should know that, he thought. Charles looked up, gazing into her eyes.

Eyes shot from Charles to Matilde. She felt a hint of dislike in his gaze. "I suggest to pit around lap 15 for softs and then pit around lap 35 for hards to finish it. You both have shown that you can extend your stints on softs to twenty-five laps. I believe we can build a gap early on and keep it growing after the first pit stop."

It became silent. Both the Strategy Director and Head of Tyre Science were considering both approaches, weighing the risks and benefits of each strategy.

Charles didn't hesitate to reply to the suggestion. "I will stick to plan A. I know this track better than anyone, and I'll make the call if I sense an opportunity."

Matilde wished she could protest his decision, but she knew she couldn't change his mind because the entire team stood behind the plans. Carlos agreed with Charles, admitting he preferred the first strategy better.

"Then we will go for those plans. Thank you for your input," Matilde then said. "But if we see an opportunity to make a change, we will go for it. Whether you sit in the car or not, we will go for the opportunity," she said, determined to start with a podium this season.

With the strategy decided, the briefing continued, discussing various other aspects of the race. Matilde made sure to hear everyone's input and ensured that they felt valued and motivated.

The briefing ended, and all the staff left, heading to their respective duties. Matilde made some quick notes for herself and looked in front of her, taking a moment to gather her thoughts and emotions. It felt so unnatural to her to lead a team instead of being part of the plan. She had to think of so many other things now. It felt unnatural, but also cool.

Matilde got up and left the room, ready to attend media meetings. All eyes were on her, her first race as principal. During the interviews, she was asked about her thoughts on the race and the results she expected. Everyone remembered the disappointing results of last year like it was yesterday. Matilde refused to promise anything, but she would try and do her best to get the best possible results. She told the media that she was excited to see the race and that she was looking forward to seeing what her team could do with her as principal for a week.

After some time, every car lined up on the grid. Matilde finished up the last interview and made her way to the grid. At first, she walked to one of the red cars in the third position. Charles was standing with his engineers, going over some last-minute details. As she approached them, she wondered what she had to do here. What was Christian always doing on the grid? When she was a strategist, she sat behind in the garage, observing the footage. Now she was facing cameras and a lot of people. Matilde put on a professional smile.

"Good luck, Charles," Matilde said and smiled warmly.

She guessed she could wish her drivers all the best.

"Thank you," Charles replied, his eyes avoiding hers.

Mathile looked at the engineers and gave them a nod before walking over to the other side of the track: P4 and one of the other red cars. "Good luck, Carlos," she said.

Carlos looked gratefully at her. "Thanks, Matilde," he said.

When she wanted to walk back towards the garages, she got stopped by Martin Brundle. A polite smile came on her face.

"How are you holding up, Matilde?"

"I'm pretty nervous," she replied. "It is the first time in over a year since I am back on the grid, and of course, the new role at Ferrari."

"How do you think it will go?"

"Realistically, it won't be a winning race. Of course, we all have hope, but Red Bull is just immensely strong. We have a new team, we have to see if it all works out and how we react to it. But I think we will get a decent race, we are well prepared, and we have the pace," she replied.

Brundle smiled and nodded. "How does it feel to see your old mates work in a different team?"

"Weird," was her first response. "I must admit, I walked to the wrong garage this morning when I was in my own mind," she laughed. "And seeing them work, I almost want to go over and stir into the conversation. But those are habits that need to wear out. I am excited to start this new chapter and fight against them."

He nodded again. "Thank you. And good luck."

"Thank you," Matilde replied and briefly looked at her assistant next to her. Galileo looked satisfied.

As the drivers got ready to step into their cars, Matilde walked back towards the Ferrari garage. She still observed the mechanics performing their final checks on the screens in the garage. It was a tough first week. She got along with Carlos pretty well, but she knew she had to earn Charles' respect, and it wouldn't be an easy task. The team reacted well to her, but it had only been a week. The media and some fans weren't sure about this decision. Matilde had encountered similar challenges before in a male-dominated sport, but this felt different.

Matilde sat down at the pit wall, taking the middle seat. This was new to her, but a dream came true. The formation lap came to an end, and the cars lined up. She took a deep breath and felt her heart race in her chest as the lights popped up one by one. The lights went out, and the race began.

Next chapter

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alexistudies · 3 days

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september 22nd, 2024

the first month of the semester has consisted of a lotttt of reading, iced coffee, and ordering stuff for lab. some highlights: im narrowing down what i want to do for my dissertation, i'm getting a really nice work laptop, and i got a raise!

i had my first clinical neuro exam on thursday and i actually think it went okay, but we'll see what my grade is lol. i have my data science class final in a couple weeks (its an accelerated course) and then right after, my biostats and informatics class starts for the last half of the semester.

i hope everyone's semester is off to a great start!

pictured above:

some papers i printed and read for my dissertation

a new lab notebook

iced coffee on campus

a thick ass neurology textbook and my data science book

#alexistudies #alexi's phd year 2 #studyblr #studying #study blog #study hard #studyblr community #study motivation #genspen #heygen #morningkou

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simping-overload · 1 year

Note

Hello! Would you feel comfortable writing pre op/t ftm reader and tfp ratchet, maybe ratchet just feeling super in love with his human bf?

If anyone wants to help me get my new laptop, please consider donating to my kofi!

characters: ratchet

tags: fluff, nerd stuff, autistic/neurodivergent! reader, nerd reader, ftm! reader, human/cybertronian relationship, 2 nerds being in love 🫶🫶🫶

If you happen to express any interest at all from pre-war cybertronian culture, he would totally talk your ear off if you allowed him.

His pride for his home and culture really shines through during these moments.

It's obvious how much he misses Cybertron. Any comfort you can offer is recommended to make him feel better.

Gets you cybertronian & human conjunx gifts often.

If you wanna learn about cybertronian tech and science, he will happily teach you.

His expertise is obviously in cyberbiolgy, but if you want to venture into other subjects, he can dig up some old data pads so you both can learn something new.

Along the way, he will show you how to pronounce certain phrases and terms in cybertronian. You'll have to learn the swears from Wheeljack though.

He would be interested to learn about humans too, he knows, just like Cybertron, diffrent regions have their own little thing going on.

So whatever culture you're a part of, please talk his ear off like he does when he's talking about his.

Though, of course their will be times when he's a bit confused and needs some more explaining, but other than that, he's taking in all the information your giving him.

He would be interested in learning in human biology, just in case the kids or you get hurt and they are unable to take you to the hospital.

Due to the human history lessons you give him, he's well aware of the prejudice you face. He will always be a shoulder you can cry on if needed.

He supports and loves you fully. He will not allow any harm or disrespect come your way without consequences.

He sometimes gets caught off guard by your stimming, urges you to be careful if you're rocking back and forth while being on his shoulder

He doesn't like it when you stim in his atenae, will keep a collection of other stimming things you like that you could use instead.

If you ever get overstimulated, he's quick to act, taking you back to your safe place, and doesn't let anyone at all bother you unless absolutely necessary.

#ftm reader #x male reader #male reader #transformers prime #tfp x reader #tfp ratchet #tfp ratchet x reader #ratchet x reader #transformers x reader #transformers prime x reader

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inkwellphotograph · 10 months

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some science dark academia things

Because all academics can be dark academics.

(remember dark academia is only a subculture, so don’t change fundamental aspects of yourself to fit into it!)

•─•°•❀•°•─•

✎ instead of globes and paintings, a study space decorated with annotated data tables, coffee-stained formula sheets, and diagrams with weathered edges

✎ endless rows of spreadsheets, being able to input data at a frightening pace. the glow of a laptop screen despite the night outside the library window.

✎ short, neatly-trimmed nails. all the same, there's dirt under them from fieldwork

✎ walking quickly through the corridors, your labcoat giving you an air of confidence as you exchange nods with likeminded students, all working towards the same goal

✎ booking a group room with your labmates, suggesting explanations with one another as you compare results from the week's work. theories and explanations shared around coffee cups and a quiet evening

✎ annotating the papers you research, re-explaining their findings to yourself over and over until it finally dawns. carrying these papers with you and discussing them with professors

✎ the math and science students in my university always set up 'take a textbook, leave a textbook' in the hallways between the chem and math departments. there are carts full of battered, old chemistry, biology, and calculus textbooks at the start of every semester

#words cannot convey how much i love studying science #this is my life calling #stemblr #stem academia #stem student #dark academia #classic academia #romanticise everything #romanticse school #academic things #dark academia aesthetic #grey academia #science studyblr

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biblioklept-writes · 2 years

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Stargirl (Modern!Aemond)

A/N: There is no mention of the reader's appearance but there’s heavy engineering - it is the only thing that I know besides fandoms. Also, this is purely self indulgent. (fem!reader)

Summary: The King's Landing University students celebrate the end of the term, and you find yourself with a beautiful, not-much-of-a-stranger.

Word Count: 1.7 k

HOTD Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You were not happy.

Of course, you were in one of the most sought after universities in the world, and you had worked through your blood, sweat and tears to make it here, studying Computer Science in King’s Landing University. You were happy then.

And now you worked yourself to tears and blood (literally, the stress messed with the period cycle) to end this semester. You weren’t sure how good the exams went, but at least they were over. You could scroll through instagram and tumblr stress free now, finding a new hyperfixation.

You knew you hated the loud party scene, but you were an introvert-leaning-ambivert who loved to socialise with new people, but you loved a night-in alone with your phone and laptop just the same, if not more.

Your lovely friend had been invited to a uni party hosted by the frat boys, to celebrate the end of the term exams for all the majors. Your room was not exactly the space you wanted to spend your time in, after being holed up in there for almost a month - finishing papers, assignments and practical files then studying for your theory exams. Data Structures have been particularly hard on you.

So you put on your best satin black dress, put on a bold black eyeliner, red lipstick and highlighted your face and lids with shimmery eyeshadow that popped your beautiful eyes. You finally wore those heels you had thrifted, feeling confident now that you had dressed up.

“You look like the hottest bitch in town!” Your friend complimented, blowing you a kiss. You blew a kiss right at her, feeling yourself.

“I really do, don’t I?” You smirked, raising your brows.

Now you were out of campus, having fetched a ride with one of the guys from your class. Being one of the few girls in the engineering building really helped with that. Aegon Targaryen was the host of the party, even though he was a Business major in his seventh semester, you knew him. Everyone knew him - he had a bit of a reputation of being passed around in the university campus.

The Targaryens were practically Westerosi Royalty, the wealthiest of them all, and known for their controversial family workings. They were known for having peculiar purple eyes. You had heard a lot about them, the most talked about thing being how Viserys Targaryen had married his daughter’s best friend, then proceeded to have four kids with her. You’d heard that his daughter, Rhaenyra, married one of her father’s cousins, after her husband had died.

You knew only two of the Targaryens personally, Haelena Targaryen, her mother’s only daughter, with the orchid eyes - who was a biomedical engineering major and you had one class in common with her, back in your first semester - communication skills. Apparently, the university thought that none of the engineers knew how to talk and had introduced the subject even though Haelena was in her third semester.

She was a little strange, but sweet. You loved her though, and even hung out together after you had passed the first semester. She had been your presentation partner for the class and you absolutely adored her. Even now when you were in third semester and she was in her fifth.

The other Targaryen you knew was Jacaerys Targaryen, who happened to be Haelena’s nephew from her half sister. He was your junior in engineering, majoring in Mechanical and Automation. You met him while working on a project of robotics under a professor, where he worked on the mechanical team and you worked on the AI bit with your team.

And of course, there was Aemond Targaryen, Haelena’s favourite brother, everything you knew about him was because of her. You had never had the chance to see him though, he was a history major, in his third semester. Haelena had mentioned that he had lost sight in one eye after an accident with their nephews - something involving a broken bike and them struggling to fix it and then getting hit in the eye by a ricocheting piece of rusted iron. She had said that instead of a marble eye, he had insisted on getting a sapphire. Rich people and their problems.

The party mode had begun in the car itself, you got to choose the music and played some of your favourite upbeat songs screaming with the music.

Haelena had not backed down on her promise of being there, and you were so happy to see her that you could hug her. But you settled for shaking her hand, knowing that she was sensitive to touch. She looked lovely dressed in a golden halterneck, looking every bit like the princess she was.

You, your roommate, and Haelena took multiple pictures together before even entering the Targaryen’s spare house. They seemed to have multiple of those across the city, even the country.

Your engineering buddies feigned hurt as you abandoned them to be with your girlfriends, winking at them before leaving. You danced around with your friends, and occasionally Haelena stood from her place and joined you too. Then you went back to check on the guys who you’d come over with, hoping that they were not being bullied by the other kids for being engineering majors.

When you returned, you didn’t find your girlfriends where you’d left them. Taking your phone out to text the group chat, you went away from the room, dancing to yourself at the Weeknd’s song. Haelena quickly responded that they were upstairs, and you swayed while climbing the stairs, head lowered to look at your phone. You saw a funny meme, and sent it to the group chat again. Roomie <3: Bitch stop memeing and get your pretty ass up. You: OMW

“Ow,” you said as you bumped into someone at the first floor landing, and would have nearly fallen on your ass if not for the strong grip on your forearm. You looked up to meet two mismatched eyes, one lilac and the other a sapphire stone. “You’re Aemond Targaryen,” you exhaled, seemingly forgetting how to breathe.

To say that he was handsome would be an understatement. He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on, a fallen angel if you would ever see one. His face was sharply cut with defined cheekbones, jaw looking like it could cut through you. You were stunned by his magnificence, the way his silky silver hair fell to his shoulders, his pale skin and silver chain with the dragon emblem(or platinum, you couldn’t be sure) in stark contrast to the black turtleneck he was wearing. Oh, and he’s so tall.

You snapped out of your trance at the sound of your name in his voice, which was smooth like honey, sweetened to perfection. You felt like you were turning to a puddle right there.

“How do you know my name?” You asked.

“Haelena always talks about you,” Aemond said, raising his brow. “You’re one of her closest friends, I assume.”

“Yes, of course,” You said. He still hadn’t let you go, and you didn’t complain. He was warmer to touch than he looked. “Haelena talks a lot about you too. She’s told me that you are a history major.” This is why they teached communication, ass.

“That is correct.” He said, still scanning you. “And you are a computer science major.”

“Yup,” You said, even though his words were a statement. The two of you fell silent for a long moment, as Stargirl Interlude started playing in the background, and Lana Del Rey’s heavenly voice filled your ears.

I had a vision, A vision of my nails in the kitchen, Scratching counter tops, I was screaming My back arched like a cat, My position couldn't stop, You were hitting it

All you could think was Aemond Targaryen was far prettier in the flesh and the pictures didn’t do him much justice. Your phone buzzed with texts, but you ignored it, unable to look away from this fine specimen of man.

“There’s a lot of rooms here, Aemond.” Aegon’s drunk, boisterous voice called behind you, snapping the two of you out of the trance. “Stop eye-fucking.”

The older Targaryen scanned you up and down with his bloodshot glassy eyes, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face. Aemond’s face hardened and he gently shoved you behind himself, and you glanced from over his shoulder as the staredown between the two brothers went. “Don’t even think about it,” Aemond said, his voice low and dangerously void. “You have enough women waiting for you as it is,”

A shiver travelled down your spine at the disgusting thought, but you suppressed it. Aegon’s drunk voice called your name, and you raised an eyebrow at him, still standing behind Aemond.

“You’re pretty famous among the guys, you know.” He said, laughing. “I can see why. Though, I don’t understand why you hang around my sweet sister? You could use some better company. Good company,”

“I was in good company until you came along.” You said, innocently blinking even as your smile was anything but innocent.

Aemond coughed, his free hand raised to his pretty, kissable mouth. You suspected it was to cover a laugh. “Well?” you questioned, giving him your best glare. Aegon rolled his eyes at you and went back downstairs, leaving you alone with your pleasant company. It’s just because he’s pretty.

“We should be friends,” Aemond said, now smiling at you. You forgot how to breathe for a moment. His smile made him hotter, cuter and prettier all at the same time. And he had dimples.

“Well-” you went to ask something, but your ringing phone stopped you.

It was Haelena. You answered her, turning away from Aemond so you could answer in privacy. “Yeah, I’m on my way. I’ll be right there. Bye.”

“Here’s my number,” He said, handing you a white napkin. His handwriting was clean, just as you’d expect of a history major. He twirled an elegant gold pen between his long, thin fingers. A titanium ring band gleamed on his middle finger.

Without thinking, you reached for his pen, and tore the napkin from the blank side and wrote down your phone number, and kissed the napkin, leaving a bold red lipstick stain on the white paper. You reached forward and folded the napkin neatly with the pen and put it in his black trouser pocket, giving him your best sultry eyes. His lilac eye mirrored your expression, pupil dilated.

“Call me whenever you’re free,” you whispered. Before disappearing up the stairs.

Later, you will blame the one drink you had had earlier for this confidence, but you’d forever thank the gods for making this happen.

#aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #modern!aemond x reader #hightower kids x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond x reader #sri writes

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spidereggs888 · 7 months

Text

MIGUEL IMPREGNATES EVERYONE IN A 69 FT RADIUS!

🤰🫄🫃🕷

/j 💀

Miguel and You

Miguel O’Hara & y/n, any gender or non gender. Very casual writing style. TW Dark humor, dangerous situations, 18+. Y/n are sorta attracted to Miguel (why else would you be here?) but he doesn’t know you lol

ACT 2 | BLACK MARKET DEMONS

This has a drawing

If you haven’t read ACT 1, click this

•°《🕷》°•

You can’t remember how much time has passed or what you were doing. Those freaky eyes fade from your vision, and now you can barely see your own legs and shoes. It’s dark. Horror movie dark. You hear a scuffling sound from nearby. This so feels like a b-horror where the main character keeps surviving somehow. You hope this is the case.

“Dis shit’s useless!”

As your vision returns, you squint to the side and see someone’s back to you, crouching on the ground with a laptop. You assume it’s the guy who led you down here, but who the hell is he? And how does he know you?

You check your surroundings without moving your head too much in the hopes you’ll find a clue. You appear to be under the maintenance level of Nueva York, since there’s pipes all around the walls, all filled with the deafening roar of ocean water. This is far below your home level, down in the bottom where Nueva York was called New York. The place stinks of rot that would have made you gag if you weren’t already used to the dumpster near your apartment cube.

Through all the steam hissing you hear the familiar clinking sound of your data sticks.

“Fiddy grand here…. Four dere… not enough…”

This fucker is probing through your savings! It’s not much to him but you need it for your bills!

“Oh shock it!” He grumbles. You see his head turn, so you immediately return to your hypnotized pose. You can hear him clamber over and lean in close. His breath stinks of rationed mineral chips, food people buy when they are facing starvation. Alchemax wanted to save face in the public eye years ago, so they made those nasty mineral bars to fight starvation. You made it a point to never eat them since Speshall told you what’s in them. You feel bad for this black market demon. He’s probably also down on his luck despite his skill set.

You don’t feel sorry for him for long. He briefly presses something metal against your ear, and with a click sound he administers a sharp jab. You flinch but try to remain in a fake stupor. He rubs something against the wound, and you feel warm blood trickle down your lobe. He Sméagol-crawls away to his laptop light and you carefully squint his way again. You can’t see what he’s doing but you hear the clinking of glass.

You finally recall his voice again. He was following you after you parked your car before going in for the O’Hara interview. He must have been trying to snatch you up in broad daylight, because that’s how fast the black market demons are.

“No illnesses… a lil’ iron deficiency but dat can be overlooked…”

Oh fuckin hell, he intends to sell your organs.

You move your hands and see they are taped together. Your pants are stapled together (who the hell even does that?!) and you are stuck on your bum. You raise your gaze ahead of you and see a man in the same pose as you, except he doesn’t look well at all. In fact, there’s a dark pool at his stomach and his pants are drenched.

Holy shit!

You nope the fuck out of there and the demon hears you. He slams down his little science project and chases after you. Your pants are ripped from resisting the staples. You dash down the dark alley of tubes and pipes. He almost grabs you but he is hit with steam.

“Augh my fuckin eyes!”

You keep running. You can feel a cool breeze coming from somewhere. You have to get to the street. You have to get away. You left your data sticks behind but so what?! He’s AFTER you!

“DON’T LET ‘EM GET AWAY!” he screams.

Multiple freaky masks and eyes appear in the darkness! More demons! They are clambering out of their dwellings. You run past one of them flaying a body under a red light. You don’t stop to investigate, you keep running. The air smells even more rotten this way, a blend of ocean water and dead bodies. You keep running, your legs burning. Damn the sedimentary lifestyle of your office job. You are out of shape and trying to run for your life.

More creepypasta masks appear from the dark. You stare straight ahead. You can’t look at them. They mean to stop you. They mean to tear you apart. One grabs your scarf and you spin out of it. One grabs your jacket and you slip from the silk sleeves. Your lungs are on fire. You escape between stacks of broken monitors, shoving them behind you to slow down your assailants, but you are getting slower, too. Your path is getting wider, but also darker. There’s very little light here.

You stop at a completely dead and dark end. You can’t see anything in front of your face. You try to quiet your ragged breaths. You can hear the demons getting closer, but if you run more, you risk crashing into something you can't see.

“Turn around!” the demon demands.

You do nothing except stare bug-eyed into the darkness.

“Turn AROUND! Are ya deaf?!”

The vast darkness is barely illuminated by all the masks that strobe behind you. You can see a ledge before you, with nothing visible down below. What a drop off!

“LOOK AT ME!”

He grabs your shoulder and turns you to face him. He’s even closer now, his weird eyes pulsating black and white.

“Das right… look into my eyes…”

You feel your senses numb again. Your mind goes foggy. Maybe it was better to jump than face the horrors of the demons who will tear you apart. Then you hear someone else moving in the dark.

“Found you.”

Your demon is grabbed by the neck. Near him a whole illuminated bodysuit of a man materializes from the darkness. Bright red designs light up his massive chest and shoulders, and his mask has abstract eye marks that emote into a scowl as he tightens his grip on the demon’s neck. You feel as if you are trapped in the deep ocean where no light reaches the floor and you are witnessing one of its denizens about to be devoured by an even bigger one.

A giant red palm pushes you away onto the ground. You crumple down and watch the demon being raised off his feet like a rag. He is gasping for air and thrashing his pathetic legs around.

“You guys wanna see something?”

The mask of the larger man vanishes, but you can’t see many features with the strobe light of the demon’s copypasta mask. What you can make out are a set of terrifying fangs, a gaping maw opening unnaturally wide at the demon who makes a strangled shriek. You hear a nasty chomp sound, like someone taking a bite into a roll of hamburger meat! The demon kicks his legs helplessly, which looks even more horrible in the strobe light. The other demons bolt, and you instinctively lay down as they dash around you for their own escape. You try to ignore the icky gasping sounds. You hear a low, deep chested hum of satisfaction from the bigger predator. You try not to look, but you hear no more sputtering and kicking.

It’s over. The attack is over and the demon is not moving. Even his mask’s light dims in defeat. You close your eyes, unsure of what to expect next. All you know is that you do not want to be the center of attention. Your eyes snap open when you hear the demon's body fall to the ground.

“Lyla, scan the body.”

“He’s alive. The venom is doing its work.”

“And the other one?”

“Also alive. Probably still under the effects of the hypnosis.”

“That should wear off soon. We need to get back to the surface.”

“Affirmative! I’ll map out the quickest route!”

No fucking way. Accent and everything, even down to having an AI helper named LYLA. If WTF was a sensation, you would be feeling it now.

The black market demon is dragged away. You raise your head and see the large fellow wrapping the demon up in a bright red web. No fucking way is this happening! He’s rolling this guy around and around like a dead fly. There is no other person this could also be!

This man, Miguel O’Hara, has been moonlighting as the illusive vigilante Spider-Man!

You should really be more discreet with your spying but you can’t help it! Spider-Man stands upright, his whole suit fully illuminated with tech not yet known to the public. Dark blue and bright red, the patterns akin to the original Spider-Man who lived a hundred decades or so ago, except more minimalist to match the 22nd century aesthetic with a touch of ancient Mexican design. His mask re-materializes but you didn’t need to see his face to know who he was, there’s too much personal evidence to be mistaken. He stands proudly at 6’9” feet, like a beacon in the darkness. Then you hear a weird gurgle coming from him and he doubles over.

“Eugh!”

“I told you they added cream again. Why did you drink it anyway?”

“I was in a hurry.”

“Haste makes waste! You ended up spending an hour in the bathroom, which canceled your SM society meeting.”

“Not everyone was there anyway- Dios Mio I think I’m dehydrated…”

He groans then comes over to you and grabs your bound hands. With surgical precision he scratches off the tape with claw-like protrusions from his fingertips. You don’t move. The last thing you need is for him to know that you know him. You don’t know what to do with this information right now, it’s too much!

You are lifted off the floor with ease. You keep your eyes closed but wish you could see what’s going on. He cradles you in his giant arms and you assume he must be checking you over. It’s like being hugged by a couch.

“A scratch on the ear… no severe damage.”

You hear a small sound of indifference in his throat before you are rolled around in webbing, round and round like a burrito.

He slings you and the demon onto his shoulder like a couple of grocery bags, and you come cheek to cheek with your attacker. You scowl at his stupid face. His creepy eyes are all crossed and his jaw is slacked with his tongue poking out, so you turn your head away discreetly. Your savior walks a bit, jostling his luggage around to get comfortable before lunging straight up.

You can hear screaming from below. The demons didn’t run away out of fear; they fell back for reinforcements. You peek down and see their hypnotic faces flashing up like angry ghosts from outer space. As you and your company ascend higher, projectiles fly up, nearly hitting you in the head.

“Over twenty black market demons are on your tail,” Lyla announces.

“Got it.”

Spider-Man throws you and the demon straight up and you let out a yelp. The world is spinning out of control and you try not to feel sick. This must be what it’s like to be a shirt shot out of a t-shirt cannon. You are at the mercy of the bright red web pinning your arms to your sides as you fall back down to earth like a corn. You catch a glimpse of what’s going on below and see red streaks of lights. Demons are being flung all over the place, their projectiles not fast or strong enough to stop this even bigger monster from tearing through them.

Gravity is merciless, but before you can land anywhere more red webs fly at you from the dark, snagging you and your company on a light pole. You look down and see some of the demons below trying to reach you, scaling the light pole with crackhead energy. There is a loud ringing sound and the pole vibrates for a split second, making your teeth rattle.

The light pole shifts, cut in half like paper by something red moving lighting fast. The demons screech to each other (something about getting the hell out of there), and you are too stunned to scream for help as the whole metal pole is now falling. [Do you know how freakin big metal light poles are? Just walk up to one, they are actually ginormous. Blew my goddamn mind.]

The pole crashes down and gets stuck across two large machines, the top end jammed into the massive machinery. The webbing took all the shock of the fall, so you and the demon are dangling like a pair of converses on a telephone wire. You jerk your head around as the demons come crawling like ants, their pursuit hindered by the violent shaking of the metal pole. One flings herself close and grabs you by the head, and you lock eyes with her freaky face. She got mouths where her eyes should be!

The she-demon is knocked away with a nasty slap sound, ragdolling away into the vast darkness.

“-- Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—------”

Your hero is slapping the demons around, just pimp-slapping them all over the place.

“¡ESTUPIDO!”

*THWACK*

“¡PENDEJO!”

*SLAP*

“¡VETA A CASA CON MAMA!”

*POW*

“BYE BITCH!”

*SLAP*

(that last one had their whole mask slapped off. Contacts went flying, too.)

The demons get the hint and refuse to be humiliated further. They scatter off in the dark, and you can hear cursing and swearing as they go back to their deep dark dwellings.

“THAT’S RIGHT! ¡LARGATE, FUCKERS!”

He crouches on the metal light pole with great balance and listens as the demon squalling grows distant. He huffs with satisfaction.

“Shocking idiots…”

Spider-Man crawls his way across the shaky pole and retrieves his spider sacks with people in them. He leaps off as the machine finally rips through the pole, sending it falling all the way down into the darkness. Spider-Man listens to it hit the bottom.

“Okay, we leavin’ this ass-crack of the city for real this time.”

“A few of those people are critically injured,” Lyla reports, “I saw someone’s eye pop out.”

“Well I guess someone’s gotta keep an eye out, right?”

You always heard OG Spider-Man was a notorious wise-cracker, but this guy goes a little darker with his brand of humor. He was right about one thing.

Fuck those guys.

•°《🕷》°•

You and the demon are plopped down on the ledge of a building.

"Alright, time to put you back where you came from. And I'll just leave ugly here-," he says, hanging the black market demon upright on some wrought iron decor, "Even if he wakes up and frees himself, he'll still be stuck on this roof... unless he decides to jump off... then Godspeed, heh heh."

He takes you into a one arm embrace and scales down the side of your apartment using his web as a cord. Your face is being mushed into one of those monster pecs of his, and you try not to protest the fact that you can't breathe well. You hear a crash of glass.

“Yeah, your foot just went through a window,” Lyla announces.

"Ah shock... I'll pay for that sometime. This must be the bedroom."

He kicks in the rest of the window and deftly slides indoors, holding you against his waist. You barely open your eyes and see, by the arrangement of LED lights, you are home in your one-room studio apartment. He plops you down on your bed and rips off the red webbing.

“Yeah, you are in for a throbbing headache tomorrow,” Spider-Man says, keeping his voice low.

You are still pretending to be asleep as you hear him poke around at your stuff. You can hear your apartment hub terminal activate. You wonder what he’s doing messing with that.

“I’ve ordered nausea and pain relief to be delivered to this address,” Lyla confirms.

“Good. Those visual-hypnotic masks do some nasty damage. They need to get booted from the black market somehow. You got any ID on cara de moco?”

“Jeff Landers. Lost his apartment in Queens. Pretty much plinko’ed all the way down.”

“Ah, uh huh.”

“His last known location was in the Thor Memorial Housing,” Lyla continues, “his caseworker was the last person to see him.”

“Little did they know he’d go from praising Thor to harvesting organs,” he says, a little amusedly.

“He had a bad history of abuse from his father and lived in poverty. Can you really blame him?”

You hear Spider-Man walk near the foot of your bed. There’s a pause.

“I do blame him,” he finally concludes, “you can have the worst upbringing but still try to be a decent person. His shitty life doesn’t warrant torturing other people. He coulda been more like this one here, doing everything within reason to get by while still being a good person…”

He means you.

“Whelp, time to go torture that dummy. Gotta find out where he got that stupid mask.”

You can hear him stepping over your things and slipping out of the broken window. As soon as he leaves, you spring up and run to the window. You watch this giant man scale up from below. You didn’t mean to or expect it but get a direct buckshot of his backside for a moment [Why the heck is his suit so TIGHT? WHY?! You never seen a crotch so sculpted like that, what the fuck. Do he know this?! Is he aware he looks practically naked?! It’s like his suit is painted on- ]

He jumps from your apartment to the adjacent building where he left the black market demon. There’s no mistake of who he is, especially with that body, but now he’s gone and you are left to pick up the pieces both literally and figuratively. Now what the hell are you gonna do?! Your phone and your lanyard of data sticks (basically your wallet) are still down in hell with the other demons!

There’s no time to lose. You must cancel all your credit cards and change the passwords on every account you own, because it’s not like those demons are gonna pay your bills for you!

Turning on your computer interface in the wall, you video-call your landlord. The only thing you can really explain to him is that you busted the window when you were moving furniture around. He’d never believe Spider-Man kicked it in. You find that Spider-Man is cool in more ways than just looks, your landlord thanks you for a forwarded payment with the attached note sorry about the window.

After allowing him 10 minutes to lecture you with no interruptions other than a nod or sound of agreement, you close the video with him, then begin the long hunt down of all your credit and banking connections. You use your email to recall every important account. You even find some that are out of service and close them down. It’s a humbling experience, but not in the same way as being kidnapped by that black market demon. You feel like you are dissecting your life choices, reviewing things you hadn’t thought of in a long time. You unsubscribe from the health newsletters you don’t even read anymore. You delete the emails you swore you were gonna read later. All of it, fuck it, throw it in the trash. Guilt chain letters be damned, they will have to get their money from someone else, because you won’t ever be rich enough to become a philanthropist.

You are satisfied to some degree. You look out the window Spider-Man left through. Even though he met you as Miguel O’Hara, how did he find you? How did he know you were in trouble? You’ll have plenty of time to think of that in the shower, since you smell like sea water and dead skin particles.

.°˖✧🖫✧˖°.

The next morning, you reactivate your old phone after your mother sent you some money. She’s always offered, and every time you refused, but this time you didn’t need to be spending all of what you have left. You send her a text thanking her and promising to pay her back. Afterwards, you open a video chat with Speshall.

“Hey!”

“Sup, poser?!” She sings back. You were always caught off guard by her humor, but you needed that shit today.

“I had the most fucked up day, yesterday!”

You spend the next thirty minutes telling her what happened. She laughs, she screeches, she squawks, and she groans. Then you get to the horrible parts with the black market demon, then the larger-than-life rescue from Spider-Man.

“He musta been spying on their asses or something”, she says, “how else could he know you were in danger?!”

That is a pretty good question. It must have everything to do with his identity as O’Hara. You both exchanged information, after all. Maybe he was tracing your phone? But no, you decide not to tell her about this, about the possible correlation between Spider-Man and O’Hara.

“No idea but I’m glad he showed up.”

“Yeah, maybe you were in the right place at the right time or whatever. Hey, what do you have planned for dinner? My boyfriend flaked, maybe you can come over later. Hang on, I gotta make sure he’s really not coming tonight-“

Her voice drowns out as your mind shifts to thoughts of O’Hara. Did he remember who you were? He must have, right? Maybe he will also take pity and hire you, now that he’s seen your pitiful house. And what’s more, what if you become some kind of keeper for him?! Maybe knowing who he really is might be a kind of bargaining chip for getting hired? No, that’s something Brody would do, the goon. No, Miguel O’Hara’s secret identity is good as safe. Besides, he thinks you are a good person! You need to keep being that. You feel glad to have covered for him.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“I sent you some money! Check your email!”

“Oh!”

You open your inbox and see a few new notifications. Money from Speshall, a newsletter from Maglev Motors that you kept the subscription to, and an email from Alchemax Business Bureau. You click on that first, it might be important.

Employee 2232

By request of the CEO of our parent company, you are no longer scheduled for the meeting in the major temp office of Alchemax Business Bureau. We apologize for any inconveniences this may cause and wish for the best in your future endeavors in your department. This is by no means a termination to your current occupation. Thank you for your time.

— Management

“Oh no no NO!”

“What is it? Did the money not go through?!”

You sit back and put your hands on your head.

“O’Hara just canceled the meeting!”

__________________________________________

Next: ACT 3 | INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv #pencil drawing #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel & you

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dr-futbol-blog · 3 months

Text

Sanctuary, Pt. 16

The next morning we find Weir being lead to the command room by McKay. He seems high-strung, almost manic. Weir can tell that despite acquiescing to let the matter be for the moment last night, he has done anything but.

Weir: Did you sleep last night? McKay: No.

Apparently he has been working to prove that Chaya is not who she claims to be all night. He told Sheppard that it would only be a matter of time until he does. He tries to do this by using the data from the new biometric sensors. But despite trying to prove it using science, it's still his intuition that's telling him things are not what they seem. He has a feeling.

It's also curious that Weir, who is a woman and hence supposed to be more in touch with intuition especially compared with rational-to-the-extreme science guy (she actually told him that he's not allowed to have intuition previously), senses nothing about her. As far as she's concerned, out of all the people involved it's McKay who is acting strangely and out of character.

McKay: Elizabeth, she's not what she seems to be. Weir: I sense nothing but a very honest and spiritual person. McKay: All right. There may be a way to find out. You're opening negotiations with her this morning, right? Okay, well, let me sit in. I'll pretend to be taking notes on the laptop when really I'll be scanning her for anomalies. Radiation, E.M. scans, energy signatures… That way if I am crazy, you and I are the only ones who need to know. Now, what's the harm? Weir: All right… but be discreet. McKay: I'm Mr. Discreet.

Notable is that McKay manages to talk her into something she hadn't originally intended to do. Both Sheppard and McKay are able to convince her to make calls against her better judgement.

McKay calls himself Mr. Discreet here, and called himself (not normally) Mr. Sensitive to Sheppard earlier. The fact that he did it twice might mean something. In The Shrine (S05E06), an episode that seems to purposefully call back to this one, he tells Keller "I'm not smart any more. Doctors are smart, so I'm… Mister now." He is a Doctor. He is not Mister. Of course Dr. Discreet and Dr. Sensitive wouldn't work in the context, as the designation would indicate superiority rather than being used in the sense of being the personification of of a quality like he does here. He's not normally Mr. Sensitive, he's Dr. Tactless--which is also the opposite of Mr. Discreet. He realizes himself that he is acting out of character here.

But at the same time, he is demoting himself. All throughout the episode we've seen McKay try to connect with Sheppard with little success and increasing desperation. Because McKay's intelligence likely isolated him from his peers from an early age, consciously or subconsciously he may have come to the conclusion that his intelligence (and education) is one of the things separating them, one of the insurmountable obstacles between them. In fact, his intelligence has likely kept him from forming connections with other people all his life (like he said to Grodin earlier, "Where did all of those Saturday nights go?").

In Brotherhood (S01E16) McKay gets real excited about the fact that Sheppard has taken the Mensa test and has apparently done well in it. It seems to mean a lot to him. Not because it's a formal acknowledgement of the Major's intelligence but because it means that they are on more of a level field. Yes, he will always be more intelligent, more educated, but because Sheppard has other qualities he does not possess, maybe they can meet each other as equals after all. Here, it's still one of the things between them. And he is doing his part in meeting Sheppard in the middle.

Even though Weir seems to be getting more concerned for McKay than their guest, she still trusts his judgement enough to let him sit in on the meeting. The meeting is on-going as we join them so we don't get to see what happened when McKay and Sheppard first met following their altercation, presumably at the meeting room. We don't know if he came in together with Chaya or they came separately. There are all kinds of tension brewing underneath that we never got to see. But perhaps symbolically, the scene starts with a view underneath the table, McKay's fiddling with his sensors. This shot is pretty suggestive, erotic even. There is something erotic hidden underneath the surface.

In the beginning, he told Sheppard that he's picking up everything but nothing was worth mentioning. Conversely to that, it seems like here he is picking up nothing and it's very, very significant. But what he is doing is feeling her out.

First, we only hear her voice and get a close-up shot of McKay. He's pretending to be taking notes, his attention entirely on this laptop. This is also significant in that in the beginning of the episode, we saw Sheppard very obviously try to not pay attention to McKay, to make it seem like he wasn't giving him any attention even when he was.

Chaya is once more talking about religion and spiritual beliefs. She's seated opposite to McKay with Weir and Sheppard seated at her sides. Both Chaya and Sheppard have crossed their hands on the table which means that one of them is mirroring the other. And It is Chaya that is mirroring Sheppard, not the other way around. You can see this in the fact that he fiddles with his thumbs, possibly seeking release for his nerves, and Chaya immediately does the exact same thing.

Chaya Sar is attracted to John Sheppard. Sheppard, however?

Was trying not to look at McKay here. While she's talking about their desire to grasp the divine, he's doing the same thing he was doing at the beginning of the episode. Almost turning his head to look at McKay and then stopping himself. He wants to look. His natural inclination is to look. He has to exert actual effort not to look.

Yes, he might be feeling uncomfortable. There are a lot of things unspoken hanging in the air between them. But he's not turned away from McKay. In fact, he's facing McKay more than he is facing her.

Chaya tells them that she finds war disturbing where Sheppard, the man she called a warrior previously, admits that they do do that a lot. The first time that we see him look at McKay is when he, once more, defends McKay to her:

Chaya: Every soul in Proculus is free from the hatred and the anger the people from Earth seem to feel for each other. Sheppard: Come on. We're not all that bad. You know that.

This seems to directly reference what she had seen the previous night. Yes, they had been arguing but here they were, sitting together in peace and harmony--of a kind. Sheppard himself is certainly pretending like it was no big deal. But it's still notable that it's him and McKay that are the 'we' for him. He's not saying "you and I, Chaya, are not all that bad", he's saying "[despite what you saw last night] McKay and I are not all that bad," underlined by the glance he throws McKay's way as he says it. While she smiles at him and touches him (and note that he does not react to this touch in any way) as she concedes the point, she is starting to show her irritation at McKay. It seems as though their antagonism is mutual.

It's especially as Weir mentions the word "friends" that she expresses her annoyance, drawing in a long-suffering breath.

Weir: I'm talking about the friends we've met since coming here, like Teyla's people. Chaya: There are some among you—yourself included, Dr. Weir—that I know Athar would welcome with open arms… But there are others. Weir: I hand-picked every member of this expedition, and I know Teyla feels as confident about her own people. Chaya: I'm sure. Weir: At the end of the day, this is a matter of trust. Chaya: Yes. It is, Dr. Weir. Have your scans found anything yet, Dr. McKay?

When she says "welcome with open arms", Sheppard merely blinks at her. He does not smile, he does not nod, his expression is inscrutable. The thing is, Sheppard was never interested in finding sanctuary for himself. He is looking to save untold thousands, possibly millions of people in this galaxy. She seems to be saying that he would be among the chosen few, and that's just not at all what he has been looking for.

Seemingly caught red-handed, McKay is at a loss of words at first. This is also the first time we see Sheppard really look at McKay since the previous night. He is not happy. He feels betrayed.

But what's interesting is that he doesn't take this out on McKay, at all. And to his credit, McKay doesn't even attempt to conceal it. He admits openly that he was looking and has found nothing. And even so, it's Weir that Sheppard chooses to chew up about it:

Sheppard: What the hell is this? Weir: I'm sorry, Major. There was cause for legitimate concern as to— Chaya: Whether I was or not who I claimed to be. Weir: I'm sorry, Chaya. I honestly felt it would do no harm.

He's not taking it out on McKay, does not seem to think it's his fault. He seems to put all the blame on Weir. Like she's the one who has gone behind his back to have McKay do this. Yes, ultimately she is the one who makes the decisions. But both his behaviour the previous night and well before that when he wasn't treating McKay very fairly must be why he's redirecting his indignation to an easier target. In fact, he's again avoiding looking at McKay and gives both Weir and Chaya a betrayed look. The look he gave McKay earlier? That was a hurt.

McKay has had enough. He springs up and continues to boldly go where no man has gone before, at the truth of the matter:

McKay: Stop apologizing, Elizabeth! How did she know? Sheppard: McKay! McKay: She's an Ancient, Major. Sheppard: She's what? McKay: I'm right, aren't I? The perfect health, the energy weapon the fact that she has the gene… It's the only logical explanation.

A few notes: like he has done so many times previously even in this very same episode, Sheppard only says "McKay!" to communicate something more complex than the other man's name, and McKay once more seems to understand his meaning perfectly. And the way Sheppard says it is not not angry, not annoyed, not irritated, not betrayed; it sounds kind of like... scolding one's spouse at a dinner party for saying something slightly off-colour. It's so... familiar. Like he knows McKay is gonna McKay but he says it as a Pavlovian response anyway.

And also, how easily Sheppard just accepts McKay's assessment of the situation. He says, "She's an Ancient" and his response isn't "What are you talking about?". His response is "She is what?" Like, he doesn't quite understand what McKay is saying about her but he completely accepted the fact that what ever McKay is saying must be the truth. I mean, the man is even saying that it's a logical explanation, the only logical explanation, so of course he trusts McKay perfectly--he does not know how irrational McKay has been about the whole thing all along. He has been looking for something, anything, that he could pin on her. And even he seems surprised that he's stumbled on the truth.

Continued in Pt. 17

#stargate atlantis #sga #sga meta #john sheppard #sheppard is bi #rodney mckay #rodney is gay #ep. sanctuary #ep. brotherhood

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