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artificial-transmutations · 1 month

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The Last Chance!

My head was throbbing, and lights danced in front of me. Distorted music was blaring and for a moment, I felt like throwing up. When my sight cleared a bit, I could see a slim metal lectern in front of me and grabbed it to stabilize myself. Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, the nausea subsided enough to look around. I was not alone, far from it. I was bathed in bright lights from above and from the sides, and I had to squint to be able to discern my surroundings. There were three more lecterns, arranged in a half circle, and behind that, three more people who didn't look any better than I felt.

In the middle of the circle, there was a big leather chair that was currently empty. Still, most of the lights - artificial lights, headlights - were directed at the empty chair. To all sides, behind the big island of brightness, I could see grandstands with people in the dark, producing a constant loud chattering noise. The room was huge, but had, apparently, no windows.

Even though I've never been in one, it looked a lot like a TV studio to me. The setup looked like a game show of sorts, which means the empty chair was for the host, and I was at one of the contestant's spots.

Which brought me back to the most pressing question: How the hell did I get here?

Let's see, what do I remember... I am Evan, kindergarten teacher, 32 years old, and...

Right. I wasn't very well right now. My boyfriend broke up with me, it was pretty ugly, and then, I went to a bar. I was pretty drunk, but I think I remember leaving the bar again, in the middle of the night and then...

No, total blackout. Nothing that could explain how I got into a TV studio.

I looked at the other contestants, who seemed to be in various states of confusion as well. At the front of the lecterns, I could read their names:

Right next to me, there was Victoria. She looked like a librarian, or a secretary of some sorts. Pretty unremarkable. She seemed perhaps the least uncomfortable and eyed the rest of us with sharp intelligent eyes, nodding slightly as she caught my gaze.

Then, there was Lucas. He looked like he worked as a security guard, or maybe a bouncer, but not one for an exclusive club. His face was broad and his jaw strong and adorned with a goatee, and he wore a tight t-shirt and loose cargo pants. His posture was intimidating, but his eyes were friendly, if perhaps a bit simple.

At the far end, behind the lectern was Blake. He looked a bit like a teacher or a scientist, to be honest. He was slim and tall, had a brown pony tail and wore pretty unfashionable clothes.

For the sake of completion, my own name read "Evan", as expected. I was a pretty normal guy, wearing jeans and t-shirt. I was quite average looking, neither very good nor very bad, and had a bit of a tummy. In short, a very typical guy.

When I looked up again, there was suddenly a man sitting in the chair, wearing a fancy suit, looking into the cameras with a wide smile. I was sure I had not seen him entering, which seemed strange.

Immediately, the chattering from the audience ceased, and the man, who must have been the host, began to speak. So much for trying to escape the situation before the show started.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and all creatures! Welcome to this wonderful, bombastic, extraordinary episode of 'The last chance'! I'm your host, the magnificent Mr. Mephistolon."

There was a moment of applause and cheering from the dark grandstands, before the man continued. What an odd introduction! Being inclusive is good and all, but 'all creatures'?

"And today, we have our best contestants ever. Give me a cheer for Blake, Lucas, Victoria and Evan!"

Again, there was some applause, which was nice, but I was still confused. What kind of game show was this?

"The rules are simple! Here at 'The last chance', everything is possible. In three exciting elimination rounds, our contestants will fight for the grand mystery prize. You, the audience will vote after each round who you like the least, and the one with the most votes has to leave, never to be seen again."

I decided I didn't like the humor of the host very much, but the explanation continued.

"Whoever survives the third round is the winner of tonight's show! They will receive the grand mystery prize"

He held up a sealed red envelope.

"And, of course, gets to go home."

It would probably have been funnier if I remembered how I got here. The charming host made it sound like we were kidnapped, but that was hardly possible, not on live TV. So, it was probably just a joke.

"But! How can you sway the audience to not vote you out, you ask? What is the game, you want to know? It's easy! In each round, each and every one of you gets a spin on our wheel of fortune. In addition, you will be dealt three cards. In every round, you must use whatever the wheel shows and one of your cards to *change* yourself and one other contestant of your choice. It doesn't matter who you choose for what, as long as one change applies to yourself and one to another one. And remember: All changes are always permanent!"

The host chuckled as if his last statement was especially funny. I didn't quite understand what 'changes' he meant, but the rest was pretty clear.

As soon as the host finished explaining, a gorgeous woman with a long flowing dress and a big deck of cards approached us. Her eyes sparkled, and her skin was smooth, and the long dress made it look like she had a tail under it. She gave every one of us contestants three cards. Mine read "Masculine", with a big blue mars symbol on it, "Submissive", depicting a figure looking down at their feet, and "Chubby", a pink pudgy figure.

After we had a moment to look at our cards, the host spoke up again.

"And without further ado, let's get started! This round begins with..."

The drum rolls in the background sounded very stereotypical.

"Victoria! Ladies first!"

With a fanfare, a big wheel of fortune was unveiled, and set into motion with one swift motion from Mr. Mephistolon. I couldn't make out what the labels on the wheel said until it slowed down and landed on the symbol of a large eggplant. It read "hung".

It had to be one of these late-night game shows with a sexual edge to it. I didn't feel very comfortable.

"Alright, Victoria! The wheel shows 'hung'. You need to choose one of your cards, and then apply both changes, one to you, and one to another contestant!"

The woman studied her cards carefully before choosing one. She held it up and smiled.

"Okay. I pick this card here for myself. It says: 'Big-Chested'. And I'll apply 'hung' to..."

She looked around her three male contestants before finally settling on me. "Evan!"

"Alright, a good choice, Victoria! Remember, the changes will apply after everyone has chosen. Let's continue with Lucas!"

The wheel spun and landed on the picture of a pink, hairless arm, which said "Smooth".

Lucas had looked into his cards up until here and scratched his head.

"Okay, so we're supposed to be nice to each other, right? Okay, so, I... Can I give both to the other guys?"

"I'm sorry Lucas, but the rules are that you have to change yourself as well!" The host smiled with endless professional patience.

"Oh, okay." The guy really wasn't all too bright.

"Then... I take 'smooth' for myself and give Victoria my 'Slim'. That works, right?"

"Yes, Lucas, that's possible! Great job!" The host cheered before looking at Blake and spinning the wheel. It finally settled on "Nerdy", adorned with a pair of glasses.

Blake's eyes darted between his cards and the rest of us. Finally, he decided.

"Okay, I don't think we're supposed to be nice to each other, here. At least, I only have rather negative cards. Since I have to play one on myself, I choose 'Dominant'". He held up a card showing a figure with held up high head and a broad stance.

"And the 'nerdy' from the wheel goes to... Lucas."

The audience murmured and the host nodded approvingly.

"It seems like you have understood pretty quickly! Alright! Let's get to our last one for this round. Evan!"

He set the wheel in motion, and I watched until it stopped at the picture of a broad chest, reading 'muscular'. I looked down on my cards. So, even if I didn't understand the whole 'change' part, it was obvious I should give positive things to myself and negative things to other people. The wheel showed 'muscular', which was obviously positive, and 'masculine' in my hand was positive as well. So, I needed to choose between 'submissive' and 'chubby'. The thought of the big bouncer having the 'submissive' card was pretty hilarious, so I decided on that.

"I'll take 'muscular' for myself and give my 'submissive' to Lucas." I announce.

"Great choices, all around. Alright. So, we get to the changes! Victoria, you got 'Big-Chested' from yourself, and 'slim' from Lucas. Let's see how you look like!"

Whatever I expected, it was not that. Before my very eyes, Victoria's modest breasts swelled until her blouse was bursting. Her body lost any excess fat, and her hips became narrower as well, forming a perfect hourglass shape. If I had been straight, I would have surely started to drool.

"Very nice! Now, let's see the guys. Lucas! You have your own 'smooth', and Blake's 'nerdy' as well as Evan's 'submissive'. Quite a lot, if you ask me!"

As expected, Lucas lost all body hair, except his head and face. Then, his eyebrows thinned out and his nose grew a bit more pronounced. I thought I heard the word 'sissy' being called from the audience. A thick pair of glasses snapped into existence, and his clothing shifted to an awkward, nerdy look. And something seemed to happen behind his eyes. Where before, he looked the host in the eye, he suddenly looked at his shoes.

"I'm sorry, master." He muttered.

"What was that, Lucas?" The host asked, smiling.

"I'm sorry, Master. I don't deserve to look into your eyes." Laughter from the audience.

Lucas was still pretty broad, but his new posture and clothing veiled that pretty well. He looked pathetic all in all.

"Alright, Lucas. Let's switch to Blake. Here, we have your own 'Dominant' and... That’s it! Your antagonists decided to go easy on you, as it seems."

The shift in Blake's demeanor was subtle. His body stayed the same, but his posture changed, as he spread his legs a bit wider and raised his shoulders. His facial expression shifted, and I was sure to see traces of cruelty or arrogance in it, now.

"Aaand, finally. Evan. 'Muscular' from yourself and 'hung' from Victoria. Seems like the other contestants like you, Evan!"

Victoria, the new, busty, Victoria leaned over and smiled as she whispered: "You're welcome."

Suddenly, my body felt tingly and weird all over. I watched in a mix of amazement and horror, as my muscles grew all over the place, quickly filling out my clothes that shifted subtly to make way for the new bulges.

The crowd cheered, and I looked at them for a moment. Then, I was distracted by a feeling in my groin. It took all my self-control not to check with my hands, but I could clearly see the bulge of my cock grow in my pants. I wasn't getting hard - although the feeling was pretty erotic - but my dick was just quickly gaining size, until the bulge was clearly visible through my pants now. I could even see the soft rod hanging down one leg and make out the shape of my balls. With my head red, I stepped closer to the lectern.

"That's all changes for round 1!" The host announced. "And it's time to say goodbye to one of our contestants now. Please, cast your vote."

While the audience voted, I looked around. Busty Victoria was probably pretty safe, as was I - I didn't have a mirror, but I must have looked pretty good. If the audience voted by looks - which I suspected - then it would either hit Blake or Lucas. Since Blake had changed the least, he was probably the most boring one, so I suspected he would be voted out.

It was Lucas, by a small margin.

"Well, then, Lucas! Here goes your 'Last Chance'!" The host smiled, a smile I would describe as cruel, and all of a sudden, a flame shot up where Lucas had been standing just a few moments ago. When the flame was gone, so was Lucas. Wow. That was either a pretty cool special effect or... No, it was a special effect.

As the host turned to Victoria again, I got the feeling this game show was more serious than I thought.

The wheel stopped at the word 'needy'. Victoria looked into her cards and whispered to me: "Let's work together this round."

Since the spot next to her was empty, I was the only one she could whisper to, even though I must have been the bigger threat in her eyes. Her plan was to concentrate on Blake this round and then eliminate me in the next.

"I give 'Needy' to Blake, and I'll take..." She flashed a smile to the audience. "'Big Behind'" The card showed the rather unsubtle outline of a large ass. Victoria was *dangerous*. She had adapted lightning fast and knew how to manipulate the audience.

Blake looked at her with contempt, possibly due to his new dominant demeanor, until the wheel stopped in front of him. It showed a naked male chest, heavily adorned with tattoos.

"Oookay. I take 'Tattooed' from the wheel for myself, and I play this card on Evan."

My heart sunk as he produced a card showing a naked figure that read 'Exhibitionistic'. Crap. The smile in Blake's face was cold. He, too, was dangerous. And from his announcement in the first round, I knew he had more negative cards in his hand.

"So, Evan, take your pick."

I hadn't even realized that the wheel had already stopped, and I looked at it quickly. It showed a pelt of hair on a breast and read 'hairy'. I quickly looked down on my cards. I had 'masculine' and 'chubby'. It was probably a good idea to keep chubby for the last round, so I had to play 'masculine'. The apparent solution was to play it on myself and give 'hairy' to Blake, if I wanted to do what Victoria suggested. However, hairy probably wouldn't hurt Blake much, and neither would 'masculine'. I could sacrifice my 'chubby', but then I'd probably lose the next round for sure. I pondered. No, Victoria was more dangerous. I could play 'hairy' on her... But wait! She was slim and busty, and she was about to give herself a big ass. Combined with hairy, that would be strange, but what if I took out her feminine advantage?

"I take 'hairy' for myself." I began. It didn't make much difference if I was hairy or not. "And I play 'masculine' on Victoria."

The audience went crazy as Victoria's transformation began. Her ass ballooned out, making her even more beautiful by heterosexual standards for a second. But that changed when her body shifted and crossed the gender boundary quickly. A bulge formed both in her throat and in her groin, and her clothes shifted to a masculine style. However, just as I had planned, she still had the other traits. Her - no, his - chest formed decidedly male but rather big man-tits, and his ass was fat. The rest of him, however, including the arms and legs, were thin and slim, looking decidedly grotesque on his male frame.

"I guess we should call you 'Victor' now" smiled the host before the attention shifted towards Blake.

"Let's see how Blake looks after his new changes: 'Tattooed' and 'Needy'".

Blake's skin quickly filled with ink, giving the man an even more dangerous aura. For a moment, I was afraid that Blake would get a stronger position due to his changes, but then, a loud moan came out of his mouth.

"Please! I need someone to..." he was confused as hell, I could see that, as his dominant and his needy side came to a weird compromise.

"... to order to fuck my hole. Please!"

The audience erupted in laughter, and even the host had to smile. It was pitiful.

"And now for Evan."

Crap, what were my changes again? I had completely forgotten that I was being changed as well.

"Let's give you... 'hairy' and 'exhibitionistic'!"

Fuck, and it was all negative. I looked down on my muscular body and I could see body hair growing in, all over my exposed arms and legs, even some in my face. However, the worst was yet to come.

My mind was filled with an overwhelming need. I *had* to show off my body. I *had* to put it on display for everyone to see. Accompanied by the laughter of the audience, I pulled off my shirt and exposed my furry, muscular chest for everyone to see. It felt good, but I wasn't finished. Next, the shoes, socks and pants came off. My underwear was filled to the brim with my large cock, and a thick bush of hair erupted from it as well. And my underwear got even tighter as I felt the rush of satisfaction it gave me to expose myself like that. I could stop now, I probably had enough self-control. However, I hesitated. It was all about the audience vote, right? Perhaps I had better chances if I played the role, to the end. So, I hooked both my thumbs into my strained boxer shorts and, with a quick motion, pulled them off, freeing the absolute python of my semi-hard cock. I even took a few steps back from my lectern, so everyone could see me in all of my hairy, muscular glory.

The audience went wild. With some satisfaction, I noticed that almost no one voted me out. Instead, most of the votes fell on Blake.

"So long, Blake!" said the host, and Blake, too, disappeared in a sudden flame.

"Seems like it's just Victor and Evan left. Let's see who survives this round and takes the grand mystery prize home! Let me spin the wheel for Victor!"

The wheel slowed down on the sweaty face emoticon. However, it didn't read 'sweaty', but instead 'horny'. Victor smiled and shot me an apologetic look.

"Sorry, big guy, but that's it for you. Let's see how needy you get. I choose 'horny' for Evan and for me... 'Charming'". The new man produced his last card, which showed a handsome prince. Crap. That was a good combination.

I looked down at my 'chubby' card, and only as the wheel stopped, I realized my mistake. I had kept the strongest negative card until the end, but I didn't anticipate that the wheel might *also* show something negative. I stared at the head-scratching figure on the wheel and the word below that. 'Dumb'. Shit.

What were my options? I could give myself chubby and Victor dumb. Perhaps, hopefully, chubby wouldn't look too bad on my muscled body, but it hardly mattered if Victor was dumb or not. Charme worked regardless of intelligence.

Then again, I could give Victor 'chubby', which would probably work well in making him even less attractive and grotesque. But that would mean I'd have to take 'dumb'. And all changes were permanent, the host had said so.

I thought back to the flame effect that had consumed Blake and Lucas. No, I had to win this, no matter the cost.

I forced a smile for the audience. "Perfect!" I exclaimed. "I'm big all over already, and hairy and naked. So, I'll gladly take the 'dumb' - make me a real himbo!"

I didn't want to be 'a real himbo', for sure, but it might still be better than the alternative. And it would fit into the 'horny' I was about to get.

"And Victor gets my last card: 'Chubby'!"

His eyes went wide, as he suddenly wasn't so sure of his victory anymore. And really, he immediately began to change. His thin body got softer and rounder, especially his stomach and butt. Even his man-tits grew even larger. However, at the same time, his face grew a well-groomed beard, and his eyes got a sparkle to it. Even though his form was bloated, he still looked nice enough. Fuck.

Then, all eyes went to me. I closed my eyes as Mr. Mephistolon announced my changes. 'Dumb' and 'Horny'. No bodily changes, thankfully. My body was still glorious and on full display. The first effect I felt was in my groin again. I grew hot and flustered, and my previously semi-hard cock quickly expanded into its full length, hard and throbbing, pointing directly ahead. That wasn't bad, I had to admit. As I was leaking precum on the floor, I enjoyed the attention of my body on display like that, and there was certainly a lot to see. But the next change hit my mind. My thoughts felt sluggish and slow. It was as if the gears in my head were covered in syrup or mud. Or that other thing, what was it... Cum, right. I had to grin dumbly. Yeah, my thoughts were slow as if they went through cum. That thought amused me and distracted me for longer than I would have been comfortable to admit before. But now, I just didn't care. When I opened my eyes again, all higher intellect was gone, and I was just happy for all the attention and was feeling horny. Well, I was always feeling horny, right? Automatically, my large right hand gripped my fuckstick and I started to slowly stroke it, while smearing precum into the pelt on my chest with the left one. The audience cheered.

"Alright, here are the final votes!", the host announced, ripping my attention momentarily from my own body.

"It seems like, with a *very* narrow margin, Victor has lost this round."

I looked at him quizzically. Was that good?

"That means Evan wins tonight's show!"

The audience went wild and clapped, and I felt happy. Apparently, I had done something right!

"Congratulations, Evan! Now, let's see what tonight's grand mystery prize is."

With a big gesture, the host opened the envelope and read out the contents.

"The winner - that's you, Evan - gets to transform the host freely, to his liking. Now that's something we haven't seen in this show for a long time!"

Even though that meant I was allowed to change him to my whim, Mr. Mephistolon didn't seem unhappy. Instead, he licked his lips.

"Go on then, Evan! What do you want to change about me?"

"Uhhh..."

I thought hard about it.

"Make you... Make you big. Big and... strong. But not as strong as me. More like lean, but sturdy. I still want to be the one to fuck you. And... uh, make you... Make you have big dick and big balls."

I was a bit confused about the last two points. My mind had trouble thinking, but I also had a big dick and big balls, and those were good, right? So, I wanted them for him, too.

"Alright, let's see what Evan gets."

I watched curiously as Mr. Mephistolon slowly began to change.

He gained muscles, but nothing like I had. He stayed rather thin, but his arms, chest and abs looked very nice. His feet grew, and lean muscle set in, making him able to withstand a lot of force when I would pound his hole, later. I could hardly wait and was stroking my cock again.

As expected, his cock and balls swelled, and grew hairy. He was not as hung as me, but that was probably good. After all, he wouldn't really need his cock, his ass was the important part.

After his transformation was finished, I saw him look at his new body and his cock, and then into the crowd, before his eyes landed on me.

"Well then, that's all for tonight, folks! I guess I'm going home with Evan now!"

And with the last round of applause, our surroundings shifted until I was in my apartment again. Still the same bull of a man, with my target right in front of me. I licked my lips as I approached the host. I would fuck him silly, that's for sure.

#male transformation #muscle transformation #female to male tf #dumbing down #hairy

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clovers-n-claws · 1 year

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hey! idk if rqs are still open, but can I rq an electric/artificial intelligence monster x reader? said monster can lower down electricity to make it safe, nsfw please!

HI HI HI IM SO SORRY I’VE BEEN GONE AWHILE

I wish I had a good excuse but I just kind of got tired and couldn’t write

ANYWAYS I hope I got sort of what you wanted!! I’m not super used to electric monsters so I went with a bot :.) also sorry it is a little short

[Warnings/tags - nsfw, robot sex, mention of toys, shockplay, mild exhibitionism, dubcon on the shocks as reader was not aware ahead of time]

You’d give the company one thing..

This was a step above any toy you’d ever used.

The machine fucking you was a model known as Equinox, a tall, silver-plated humanoid with dark eyes and glowing blue irises. He was a prototype, hence why they were having an employee test him out, but the roughness of his movements almost made it better. He seemed focused, almost a little too intense as he pounded into you.

“Alright, we’re gonna test out the shockplay feature,” you heard from behind the double-sided mirror.

“Sorry, the wh—ah—!” You gasped as the machine touched his fingers to your chest, administering a shock.

After several minutes of this, Equinox had you moaning and drooling— you’d practically forgotten your own name. It was ecstasy.

Once you came, clenched around his silicone cock, Equinox pumped into you just a few more times before releasing a warm, sticky substance inside you.

They’d really gone above and beyond for this one, huh..

#asks open #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x you #monster boyfriend #monster x human #terato #my fic #robot x reader #robot x human #monster x reader

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tomriddleslove · 8 months

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Forgotten once again.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Tom isn’t capable of love, but you thought you could change that. Alternatively: Possesiveness and Love become the same thing.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one because Tom’s character is sm fun to write. It’s interesting because despite my delusions I couldn’t ever imagine him being capable of loving someone, and if he did it would be like this. Also this is probably the last time i’ll post for the next three weeks!

Warnings: Toxic Relationships, mentions of manipulation, violence (towards others). Generally about a very toxic and unhealthy relationship so please do not read if you’re triggered by anything to do with this! My inbox is always open if you ever need someone to talk to 🫶🏼.

Songs: Leaving Tonight - The Neighbourhood

Spectre - Radiohead

Tom Riddle was many things.

For one, he was ambitious. He would achieve whatever he so desired. If he had the means to do it, it would be done immediately. If he did not, well...

He would find the means to do so. Because Tom Riddle achieved whatever he so desired.

He was also charismatic.

Tom had a natural charisma that drew people to him. Whether through his charm, intelligence, or a combination of both, he had a magnetic presence that captivated those around him. This charisma played a significant role in his ability to influence and manipulate others to further his ambitions.

Tom Riddle was brilliant. Gifted with a sharp mind and a keen understanding of magic, he excelled in his studies. His intelligence, coupled with his ambition, allowed him to delve into dark magic and ancient mysteries, seeking knowledge and power that others might shy away from.

Tom Riddle was many things, but there was only one thing he lacked.

Perhaps it was karma, some form of divine intervention, his hamartia, that it was this very thing that would be his downfall in the years to come.

Tom was many things, but loving was not one of them.

Tom Riddle was not loving. No - he was not capable of love.

Tom Riddle, was incapable of experiencing genuine love due to being conceived under the influence of a love potion, not true love. The circumstances of Tom’s conception were marked by coercion and manipulation, as his mother, Merope Gaunt, used a love potion to attract and bind Tom Riddle Sr. to her. It was artificial and devoid of true affection. This was a concrete and inexplicably tragic detail that meant Tom Riddle simply was not physically capable of reciprocating love.

Key word, reciprocating. For, it was very much possible for someone to fall in love with Tom. A cruel thing it would be, for one cannot simply love Lucifer himself and expect to be loved in return. Tom Riddle's incapacity for reciprocating love stemmed from a profound emotional void rather than an inability to elicit affection from others.

This fact was a cruel truth that you only chose to accept once it was too late. One does not simply get involved with Tom Riddle, and come out unscathed.

Tom never cared for love, really. To him, it was just some sort of transaction or tool, something to be manipulated for his own benefit. Love, in Tom Riddle's eyes, was a means to an end rather than an intrinsic value. It was a sentiment that he observed in others but never truly felt himself.

Love, however, seemed to be the most raw, human thing in existence. It was everything we hated, yet also everything we loved. It unravelled our deepest insecurities, it brought things to the surface that we had long pushed to the side. It required us to lay ourselves, bare, for the other to see. Love made us tolerate the very worst of things, love made us hate the very best of things.

Many things can be complementary in life. Love was not one of them. It was overpowering, consuming. It changed who you were.

Love was the beginning of life and the end of it. Love was part of being human.

Tom lacking this fundamentally crucial aspect of the human experience may have been the very thing that led him to despise his humanity.

When Tom had met you, it was slightly different. A puzzle piece that didn't quite fit but intrigued him nonetheless.

You were undeniably talented, a mind that had its worth. You had this air of arrogance, and whilst Tom hated unbacked arrogance, you had the means to justify it. You were self-assured, and he found it to be somewhat refreshing compared to the other people he knew (who unashamedly sucked up to him.) You didn’t fall for his tricks immediately, which made him all the more agitated, and intrigued. Rather, you seemed to enjoy being with Tom most when he’d drop the ‘perfect and polite’ facade he had. You valued honesty and bluntness, two things Tom did not do (After all, how would he gain the trust of others if he truthfully told them he planned on using every single one of them?)

However, the more time he spent with you, the more he found that he fed into what you liked. And somehow, to his dismay, he found some sort of sick satisfaction in it. He enjoyed seeing you actively seek out his presence, and as much as it went against what Tom believed, he liked the validation of having people want to be associated with him. It was a testament to how he longed to be known, to be admired. He observed, learned, and dissected your intricacies, seeing you not as an individual but as a canvas upon which he could project his desires.

He soon grew very used to you, and he didn't absolutely loathe you. As the days unfolded into months, and the months unfolded into years, a semblance of tolerance took root. He played the part, masking his true intentions beneath a veneer of charm. Tolerance morphed into a twisted form of acknowledgement — an acknowledgement that you held a role in his future ambitions, his ultimate goal.

After all, that's all he ever did anything for, right? His goals, His desires. His needs.

The evolution was subtle but insidious. What began as a detached fascination transformed into a possessive need. Tom, driven by an insatiable hunger for control, found satisfaction in manipulating the threads of your existence. Obsession seeped into every crevice of his thoughts. Your every action became a challenge to him, something for him to understand, something he wanted to have control over. His infatuation stemmed from a desire to have control, to claim your very being, to possess you like some sort of artefact in his prized possessions.

Whilst you may have been immune to Tom’s charm when you first met, you certainly weren't without your weakness. After all, Tom always got what he wanted, and if he didn't have the means to do so, he'd find it.

He became fluent in his ways of understanding you, observing every little thing you did. He dissected the very core of your being till he was sure there was nothing he wouldn't know. Casual conversations about schoolwork in the depths of the library turned to confessions about your life as the hours passed. Tom preyed on your vulnerability, sowing seeds of doubt into your mind.

He agreed with you when you expressed your frustrations at your friends, he encouraged your rash actions. He told you what you wanted to hear, and made it seem as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As everything he did, each word he spoke was carefully calculated, a thread sewn in the fabric of your fucked up relationship, binding him inexplicably closer to you without even realising.

He pointed out things, seemingly from a place of concern, making you distance yourself from your friends. He highlighted instances where your friends might have let you down, carefully framing himself as the only steadfast pillar in your life. Tom was everything you could have needed; he understood you, and he made you feel seen.

He was selective about what he let you know. He let you know he had grown up in a children’s home, and that his mother had died. Trust was a two-way thing, and you were smart enough to detect when it wasn’t being reciprocated. He let you see what he wanted to see, for no human was perfect, and he needed you to see he had his imperfections if he wanted you to trust him.

He needed to make it seem as though you made him feel seen too.

Tom had been sitting in your room, working with you on a transfiguration assignment you both had been set. Cross-legged on your bed, he still remembers how you had sat down next to him, visibly frustrated.

Tom, ever attuned to you, asked whether you were ok because that's what someone who cared for you did. He didn't care greatly though, not in a selfless way. Rather, he needed you to know that he was the only person who knew you, the only person you needed.

You opened up about what had happened, explaining how your friends had betrayed your trust, and how they seemed to misunderstand you, leaving you feeling isolated and vulnerable. Tom, feigning empathy with expert precision, listened intently, absorbing every detail like a sponge. You began crying because it all became too much.

You never thought Tom would comfort you. You believed he'd perhaps pat your back, or assure you it was all fine. What you didn't expect, was for Tom to draw you in, to wrap his arms around you, and pull you into his chest. You didn't expect him to soothe you, and rub your back as he uttered words of comfort into your ear, seemingly shielding you from the emotions that had been weighing you down.

You didn't expect to feel safe, to feel protected. If only you knew the only thing you needed protection from, was Tom himself.

You felt special. You knew it was not in Tom's nature to do so. You had no idea how vile of a person he truly was, but you understood he was avoidant of sentiment or affection. For him to have been so tender, made you feel loved.

It was only ever bound to go downhill from there.

It was only natural that you had fallen in love with him. From there it all somewhat became a blur. In between the lines, the illusion of love was beginning to waver. Graduating from Hogwarts, you no longer held those ambitions you once had. Your plans seemed now to be a distant memory, a past life. You had Tom, and that was all that mattered.

Tom had gotten his job at Borgin and Burkes. You moved in with him. You ignored the pleas of concern from those who were near and dear to you, who Tom hadn’t managed to isolate you from.

Tom convinced you that they did not have your best interest in mind, that they didn’t like him because he was a poor orphan, working a salesperson job. He had earlier convinced you he had his insecurities about his past, and he used that to make you believe the people around you were prejudiced, that they didn't care for your happiness but rather their status being affected by who they associated with. No one would want to be acquainted with the girl who loved the charity case.

You believed him. You couldn't fathom why they didn’t like Tom. You shut them out.

It was rather terrifying seeing how quickly Tom could snuff out your fiery flame, and reduce you down to someone who became dependent on him. You rarely left the house, your life revolved around what Tom wanted, and how Tom felt.

He left you teetering on the precipe of unhappiness, fulfilling your needs to the point where you couldn’t complain for fear of seeming ungrateful, unloving.

He would neglect you, coming back from work to lock himself in your bedroom, pouring over books and writings. He wasn’t who he used to be, caring, affectionate, loving.

Shame on you for assuming you could make Tom capable of love.

His neglect pierced your soul, and when you mustered the courage to voice your needs, he snapped at you for bothering him. Tom's transformation into an emotionally distant stranger left you in a state of perpetual uncertainty.

At times, you resolved to leave him, but Tom had a knack for sensing your unrest. As though he could read your mind, he returned with offerings and apologies, painting himself as the troubled victim and casting you as the ungrateful perpetrator. Guilt became the shackle that bound you, and his apologies only deepened the wounds.

Tom, in those fleeting moments of remorse, would momentarily embody the man you had fallen in love with. You cooked dinner together. He’ d play with your hair as you read, and he fucked you as if he truly did love you. Yet, the morning after, the bed would be empty, and the reality of your entangled existence with Tom would once again sink in.

He began leaving for work earlier and coming back later. You began to doubt whether it was because of work, the day he came back reeking of dark magic.

You were undeniably clever, after all, that was what had sparked Tom’s obsession with you in the first place, and so it didn’t take long for you to connect the dots. Tom’s friends back in Hogwarts seemed more like devotees than anything else. This, coupled with him spending countless hours reading through books he wouldn't let you see, and his sudden late hours suggested to you he was dappling in dark things.

You weren't wrong, per se, but Tom was far beyond dappling in dark things. He had become the image of corruption itself.

The cycle persisted, a disheartening repetition of highs and lows that left you questioning your worth and the authenticity of the connection you had with Tom. His intermittent displays of affection, punctuated by periods of neglect and manipulation, became the norm. The more you yearned for stability, the deeper you sank into the quicksand of your toxic relationship.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly where neglect turned into heated words. Arguments turning more and more intense. Slammed doors became broken porcelain, yet the remorseful embraces remained the same.

The outside world, once filled with friends and dreams, now seemed like a distant echo. Tom had successfully eroded the foundations of your past life, isolating you from the support systems that could have provided a lifeline. His poisonous whispers had convinced you that only he truly cared for you, painting the rest of the world as indifferent or antagonistic.

The empty mornings and hollow apologies continued, and you slowly began to realise the love you once believed in had become a warped caricature, and the person you had fallen for had let his obsession manifest into your relationship, seeping through the feeble foundations.

The crisp air of Hogsmeade offered a welcome escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the shared home with Tom. As you strolled through the quaint village, a familiar face caught your eye – Elizabeth, your closest friend from Hogwarts. A twinge of nostalgia mixed with apprehension as you approached her.

"Hey, Elizabeth," you greeted, attempting a smile.

Her response was guarded, her eyes revealing a mixture of concern and wariness. "Hello. Long time no see."

You sensed a tension in the air as you tried to engage in small talk, but Elizabeth's words soon cut through the facade. "Look, What happened? You dropped off the face of the earth, and it's like you vanished after graduation. In our last year, you completely ignored all of us."

A knot tightened in your stomach as you fumbled for an explanation. "I... things have been complicated. I've been busy."

Elizabeth's expression softened, and she sighed. "Busy? More like completely consumed. We all missed you, you know? But you acted like we don't even exist. What happened to the person we used to know?"

You frown, crossing your arms. “Missed me? I only stopped talking to you because you all acted weird around me.” You respond, defensively.

“No, we didn't. You got angry at us when we told you we were worried for you. You rarely went out with us, you were always too busy elsewhere.” She corrected, and you felt a frustration bubble within you.

“No, it didn’t really seem like that. You all isolated me and the only person I had left was Tom. It was only natural that I wouldn't want to go back to being friends with you after that.” You snap.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, sympathy replacing her earlier frustration. "Tom? Are you serious? He's the one who isolated you, not us. We've been worried sick about you. You're not the same person anymore."

Who did she think she was? She knew nothing about the two of you, let alone what your relationship was like. Tom was right, these people had it out for you. They didn't care for you, not at all.

“You don't know what our relationship is like Elizabeth, so I suggest you stop making assumptions.” You hiss, glaring at her.

"We cared, but you pushed us away," Elizabeth explained gently. "You were so wrapped up in whatever was going on with Tom that you stopped caring about anyone else. It's not healthy, and we were genuinely concerned."

Elizabeth reached out to comfort you. "Listen, I know it's tough, but you need to reevaluate your situation. Staying with Tom isn't healthy, and you're not alone. My door is always open if you need somewhere to stay or someone to talk to.” She says, fumbling around in her pockets. She pulls out a receipt and hastily scribbles down an address, thrusting it into your hand. She gives you one last look of pity, and you feel enraged. You immediately apparate back home, you didn't have time for this foolishness.

You apparate back home, the confrontation with Elizabeth leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. The hastily scribbled address clutched in your hand feels like an unwanted invitation, an intrusion into the carefully constructed reality that Tom has woven around you.

As you step into the shared home, the atmosphere is unsettling. Tom is hunched over a dark tome, his eyes flickering up to meet yours as you enter.

"Where have you been?" he questions, the softness of his tone belying the underlying intensity.

You toss your coat aside, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "Out. I needed a break from all this," you retort, the words laced with the anger that has been building up.

A dangerous glint enters Tom's eyes, his composure slipping. "A break? Is that how you see it? Is it a burden to you?"

"Yes, Tom! I don’t know what’s gone wrong? One day you’re fin and the next you’re acting as though i’m a nuisance to your being," you snap, the resentment in your voice cutting through the room.

His posture stiffens, and a quiet threat laces his words. "Oh really?"

Your anger flares, a defiant fire pushing back against his dominance. "Guess who I saw today, hmm?" You seethe, venom lingering in your tone.

A momentary confusion flickers in Tom's eyes. "Who?" he questions, wondering how this could be relevant to the conversation.

"Elizabeth," you declare, watching his reaction closely.

Tom's expression darkens, and a cold tension settles in the room. "What does she have to do with anything?" He retorts, stepping closer to you.

"She told me a few things, Tom. About how I've distanced myself from everyone, how they were worried, and you know what struck me?" you press on, your anger finding a new target.

His eyes narrow, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "What?"

"That I believed it was my friends who had abandoned me, but in reality, it's been you isolating me all along," you accuse, the realization fueling your rage. You jab your finger into his chest as you speak.

Tom's composure wavers, but he quickly recovers. "I've been protecting you. You can't trust them. They're trying to pull you away from me."

"Stop. Stop it, Tom. Have the decency to acknowledge I'm not that fucking stupid. I know what you're trying to do,” You say, voice cracking. You resist the urge to shield your ears, his words burrowing their way into you as he attempts to trivialise your worries, making you out to be the irrational one.

Tom frowns, and the sight of you beginning to doubt him had bile riding in the back of his throat. H reaches out, hands holding onto your shoulders as he urges you to look at him.

“They’re lying to you. They’re trying to pull you away from me again! Can't you see this? Why do you believe them over me?” He says, voice pleading with you in fake desperation, the lengths he was willing to go to to ensure he could continue to possess you were unthinkable.

“Enough. Im fucking done. You’re so fucked up, Tom. You never loved me, did you? You only ever wanted to own me, to control me. Tell me, was it worth it? Was it ever fucking worth it, spending 5 years of your life weaving this tapestry of bullshit just so you could keep me locked up in here?” You snap, grabbing your coat.

Tom's pleading expression transforms into a cold mask, and a sinister calm settles over him. "You think you can just leave? You're mine, and you'll stay. I won't let you go." He utters.

The realization of his true nature, the toxicity of the relationship, fuels your determination. "Watch me,” You hiss.

As you move toward the door, his grip on control slips further, and an unsettling mix of rage and desperation flashes in his eyes. "You'll regret this. You'll come crawling back. You always come back." He says. You take a single look at him before slamming the door and walking off.

One cannot simply dance with the devil, and change him. He always changes you.

Tom Riddle was far beyond the devil.

You wondered if for once in your life God had been on your side when you had that chance encounter with Elizabeth. Despite your harsh words, she had accepted you into her home with open arms. The weight of the past five years settles heavily on your shoulders, and the enormity of what you've lost becomes painfully clear. You were young, so damn young, and you’d been living as a glorified prisoner, trapped by the very thing that was meant to liberate you.

But love was ugly, wasn't it? It made you tolerate the bad, it made you irrational. Love could bare its teeth into your neck, and you'd let it, for love was ugly.

It was ugly, but it was not macabre.

Tom knew where you were. Tom always did. It was already established that Tom always got what he wanted. He wanted you, and he found a way to ensure that.

At first, he did not bother you.

He believed you would come back to him, as you so often did. But when a week had passed and you had not reappeared as you always did, beautiful face flushed red, eyes glossy with tears as you wordlessly stepped in and fell back into normality, he began to worry.

If it came to any relief to you, which it might have, Tom believed he loved you. What you had was a far cry from love, an echo of what it should have been. But in the mind of he who cannot love, this is what he believed it to be. One could only wonder whether everything would have been different if he actually knew what love was. But he didn't, and he never would, so he was left with some sort of fucked up obsession that he believed was love.

Tom felt a gnawing emptiness that only intensified with your departure.

Again, he loved you, if one could call it love. It was a sick, twisted version of affection that demanded ownership. In his distorted reality, your existence became an extension of his own, a possession he couldn't bear to lose. The mere thought of you breaking free ignited a desperate panic within him.

He needed you like a drowning man gasping for air, clinging to the last vestiges of sanity.

Schopenhauer believed that the will, a blind and irrational force, dominated human behaviour. Love, according to Schopenhauer, was an expression of the will's desire.

Tom felt this indescribable gap in his life without you there, as though he simply wasn’t complete without you. The old him would have hated to admit it, but he needed you, and his need for you grew from a sickly infatuation to a desperate yearning. Love, in his distorted reality, meant ownership, and he was losing his grip.

It was a rather bleak evening, and you had a horrible feeling in your stomach as you sat on the sofa of Elizabeth’s living room, where you had been presiding for the past week.

How cruel it was, that you and Tom were so attuned to one another.

You somehow knew it was Tom without needing to see them.

As Tom had resonated with the words of Schopenhauer, you had resonated with the words of Plato. For you, love could not be controlled. Instead, it was a divine madness that took hold of individuals, transcending rational thought and choice.

You had often thought that was a beautiful thing. However, when it was love that was causing your demise, it no longer felt beautiful.

Elizabeth comes down the stairs and raises a brow when she sees you perched on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly off into the distance. She eyes you apprehensively as she opens the door.

That voice. It simultaneously sent dread coursing through you, and butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Come back now. It's been far too long.” Tom says, his voice oh so tempting.

“Seriously? You think you can get her back with that bullshit?” Elizabeth snaps, standing at the door.

Tom, however, remains fixated on you, as if Elizabeth's words were mere background noise. Ignoring her comments, he continues, his eyes piercing into your conflicted gaze.

"Stop this. Come back. It's where you belong," he urges, the words carrying a persuasive weight that had once held you captive.

Elizabeth's frustration peaked as she turned to face you, pleading in her eyes. "Don't listen to him. He's toxic, and you don't need that in your life. You deserve so much more."

Tom's eyes bore into yours, his tone silky but insistent. "You don't belong in our business, Elizabeth. You’re as meddlesome as you were in school. She knows where she belongs."

You remain silent.

"He's killing you. Can't you see that?" Elizabeth's voice held a mixture of concern and frustration.

But Tom's voice slithered through the air once more, persuasive and relentless. "Come to me.” His words echoed a twisted sense of possessiveness, yet held such allure, spoken tenderly, enough to convince you it would be fine.

You clench your fists, nails digging into your skin. You stand up, letting out a shuddery breath. You walk towards the door.

“Fuck, stop! You don't need to go! Don't act like you have nowhere to go! I've given you my home, I’ve let you stay. Stop going back!” Elizabeth says, frustration laced in her voice.

How easy it is to claim you simply need to just “stop”, and it would all be fine.

It was never that simple. Tom's presence was poison, yet it was also the air you breathed. You had only known Tom for what felt like aeons, and you had shut everyone who questioned you out. All you had was Tom, all you ever would have is Tom.

He was home, a twisted kind that keeps you warm while slowly suffocating the life out of you.

As you walked back into his outstretched arms, a sense of numb acceptance settled over you. The outside world ceased to matter; the only reality was the one with Tom.

It wasn't love as the poets wrote or the philosophers pondered. Yet, in its ugliness, it was the only reality you knew.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around. Like a serpent, his embrace constricts around you, possessive and suffocating. You lean into him, feeling the coldness of his touch seep into your skin. It's oddly warming though, as paradoxical as it seemed.

"Where else would you go, my love?" he whispers, the sweetness of the endearment masking the toxicity beneath.

The serpent and its prey, bound in a perverse waltz of dependence and decay, disappear into the shadows, and the world outside is forgotten once again.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fic #tom riddle angst

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that-ari-blogger · 1 month

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Can't Argue With Crazy (Hollow Mind)

I’m going to open this with a question to Dana Terrace herself: Why? Did you wake up one morning, look at your audience, and think “I will break you”? What happened to the goofy series with the body swap episode and the playground game of thrones?

In all seriousness, I have been mentioning a lot that the Owl House features a runup to its final arc to get its mind into gear and fine tune the tone and pacing. In my opinion, that final arc kicks off in a big way with Hollow Mind.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (The Owl House, Frankenstein, Moon Knight, Bladerunner)

In 1818, a book called The Modern Promethius was written. It’s one of those books that people like to say they’ve read and is a founding piece of science fiction, arguably the first book in that genre.

This is a practice called obfuscation. I was being honest with you here, but there’s some key information that I am leaving out, and it will change how you understand this post. At the moment, there’s a chance that you think I am cleverer than I am, as I have read a book you have never heard of and statistically, obscure fiction leads to a higher level of intelligence.

Alternatively, if you have heard of this book (Or looked at the spoiler warning), you know exactly where I’m going with this.

In this case, the missing information was the book’s author, and it’s full title: Mary Shelly, and Frankenstein; Or The Modern Promethius, alternatively known simply as Frankenstein.

However, I’ve already employed a few more deceptive techniques, and I’m interested in seeing who caught them.

First up, obscure fiction doesn’t actually lead to a higher level of intelligence. I’ve twisted that statistic a little. The link between reading in general and intellect is well established, but there is extremely little evidence for the obscurity having any effect on that. There is, however, a link to perceptions of intelligence, which I drew upon to base my claim.

This is an advanced technique known as lying. But it’s also social engineering, or more specifically pretexting. If I establish something that makes me seem more intelligent, a reader is more likely to believe me when I start espousing facts. I can then use this to talk bollocks to my heart’s content.

Notably, one side effect of this opening statement is that, depending on who you are, it either made you more likely to trust my opinions or more sceptical of me. I have artificially made myself seem more honest in comparison to a nebulous statement. But I have also pulled the rug out from under you, and that’s not a trust that can be built up as easily as it was eroded. Remember this.

In Moon Knight, a key reveal of the series is that Steven was not the real person. That he was the alter ego, made up and kept in the dark. It’s a harrowing reveal, and it plays with perception of reality in what I think is an interesting way.

Steven assumes that his reality is the truth because why would he think otherwise. I challenge you to find someone who doesn’t share this bias. You assume you are just like everyone else until proven otherwise. Just like you assume the sun will rise tomorrow and be roughly the same size and shape because nothing has given you reason to suspect otherwise.

This is Occam’s Razor, a tool that essentially declares the simplest answer to be the correct one. In this case, it is simpler to expect yourself to be a standard issue human being than a manufactured split personality of someone else. Or, that your memories aren’t manufactured and that you are the original personality.

It is also a bias founded in reality. Here, things usually repeat unless force acts upon them or they are instable by nature. This is how the science works, and since that is the study of reality, I defer to it in matters of real-world happenings.

In the case of the sun rising tomorrow. The sun has risen every day of a millennia, the likelihood of a force suddenly manifesting to change that is so infinitesimal that it isn’t worth dwelling upon. Even then, there are very few things that can affect the rising of the sun, and most of them we would know about in advance.

In short, you can expect reality to continue as it always has. There are rules to the world, and the world tends to play fair.

Linking to my point about Moon Knight, this can be manipulated through obfuscation. If you take away important information, a person will assume that they have the whole picture and act accordingly. Again, Steven assumes that he is the same as everyone else, and the audience of the series assumes the same thing. They have also not been given all the information. Even when the split is revealed, you are primed to think of the perspective character as the originator because why would you think otherwise.

Worth commenting on, is that the final scene of the series introduces a third personality, and this doesn’t come across as nearly as surprising, because we have been primed to expect a twist just like this. It’s the same thing happening again, just in a different way.

If we cycle back a little bit, did you catch how I referred to Steven as I started this section? I described him as not a real person, and I’d like to reverse that claim.

The following statement is not up for debate, you may disagree with anything else, but this is ironclad: Personhood is not anybody’s to ascribe or take away. You cannot declare that someone is not a person because you dislike them. You cannot refuse to accept someone's personhood because you believe them to be bellow you. Personhood is immutable, and everyone has the right to it, no matter how different from you, no matter how evil you find them to be. I am not willing to argue this point.

What this means has provoked a decent amount of speculation from philosophers and writers. Science fiction does this through its question of what is qualified to be a person. If you’ve read a story with a robot in it, you know what I’m talking about here.

However, if we substitute the terminology for a moment, we can notice that this is more widely used than you would expect.

The idea of a soul is often used synonymously with personhood. Basically, people have souls. Fantasy and mythology does this a fair bit, and its where the word “soulless” originates. A place with this adjective restricts agency and therefore expressions of individuality and personhood. An act that is soulless is one that forfeits personhood, used synonymously with “mindless”.

I would argue that anything with internal thoughts has a soul and therefore is a person, or vice versa. But I don’t think that’s the important question here.

I think the more important factor of this question is the faith of it. Not religiously, but in terms of a good or bad faith argument. In other words, why a person is making their case.

For example, the robot story archetype of “this group of individuals has claimed personhood, does that mean we have to give them rights?”

These stories rarely dispute the autonomy of the individuals, just the reaction to it. Therefore, in my opinion, the creation and intended purpose of the robots is irrelevant, they are people and should be treated as such. The story establishes that the robots can think, and that falls into my argument above.

Bladerunner adds onto this the idea that artificial life forms, or replicants, look exactly like humans, and explores how that affects the perception of them. The moment when Decker stands over the corpse of what looks like a human being and who has acted like a human being up to this point is sobering. But it also points to the fact that all it took to get people to be ok with not respecting the personhood of robots in the Star Wars franchise (who act just like humans), is the fact that they don’t look like us.

As a side note, I originally had to watch Bladerunner for school, and the prescribed version of it was the Director’s Cut. I only found the original version afterwards. So, if you despised the original because of how gratuitously redundant parts of it are, I would advise the other version. It quite literally gets rid of the bad things and explains the elements that felt unclear.

Specifically, it implies that Decker might be an artificial life form, which throws you for a loop entirely because it means that humans and replicants are functionally identical except for how they are created, and how long replicants are allowed to live for.

Humans will, however, always find a way to spot the difference, and in Bladerunner, that is through the eyes.

I haven’t watched the more recent film, so I don’t know if it’s been clarified. But the original doesn’t make it clear what the deal is with those eyes. Are they unique, somehow? Do they move in a weird way? We are only shown the reaction to the difference, not what that difference actually is, implying that the significance might be disproportionate to what is observed.

I ran this post by a few friends before posting it, as I usually do, and one of them commented that this is like being trans. To her, gender is like personhood, it has ideas attributed to it, but in reality, all you have to do is claim it and functionally speaking, it's yours to do with what you will.

She noted that the difference between a trans person and a cis person is disproportionate to the reaction to it. In all the ways that matters, a trans man is a man. But because a trans man was assigned female at birth, that means that people feel ok disallowing his masculinity.

She also highlighted the idea of bad faith arguments in this field eroding important discussions. The example she gave was how the transphobic cries of “what makes a woman?” undermine the fact that conversations about femininity and masculinity and how they are presented are important to have, especially because gender expression can take so many different forms.

People transition for a reason, and understanding what that is can help people in the future understand themselves, which at the very least has massive mental health benefits. But instead, the question is used to gatekeep something that isn’t anyone’s to gatekeep.

For context, I am not trans, I am nonbinary, so I cannot do justice to this idea beyond “this is what somebody who knows more than me told me”. I asked her if I could include what she said, and she said yes. But I still recommend checking out literally anyone else who has actually lived this experience.

I am actually rather tentative about this segment because of how little I know. But this is a blog about analysis, and leaving out the fact that there is a trans reading of a story feels disingenuous. Besides, I think it’s better to start discussion about important ideas than leave them absent from places they are relevant. If I’m wrong, please correct me and I will make adjustments. I always want to know more.

Speaking of trans readings, Hunter is first shown to the audience of The Owl House through his eyes.

The title sequence of the series’ second season features a wall of three figures looking menacing. Lilith, Kikimora, and the Golden Guard, then the scene is flipped. Lilith looks remorseful, Kikimora has lost the plot entirely, and the Golden Guard is… taking off his mask.

What strikes me about this is that this was revealed long before Hunter was shown off. The fans learned that this was a kid long before Luz did. There’s dramatic irony there, but also a display of theme.

The mask is a signifier of Hunter’s purpose. It was given to him by his father figure, along with the role of the Golden Guard. He doesn’t get any say in it at all. Similarly, he doesn’t get any agency when it comes to losing the identity. The mask falls off when Kikimora attacks him, the role gets taken from him by Darius later on. Hunter doesn’t get free will. He has been reduced to a role, a tool. He has had his personhood taken from him, and as I established, that act alone is enough to make Bellos the villain of Hunter’s story.

But the intro features Hunter taking off the mask willingly to reveal his face. In my mind, that links most closely to a scene in Hunting Palismen, when he removes his face covering to say:

“My name is Hunter.”

His name is treated the exact same way as his face, and in this case, he immediately puts the mask back on to face down Kikimora.

So, the two ideas are linked, the reveal of his name and what he is showing to the audience. Combine that with the fact that Kikimora’s and Lilith’s portraits both show their character development over the series, growing more insane and emotional respectively, the intro alone tells us that Hunter’s story will be about the removing of that mask and the learning of who he is.

Except, in this episode, the intro is cut short. The audience doesn’t see Hunter take off his mask, because now the script has been flipped. Not only does the audience learn who Hunter is, but so does Hunter.

“What a shame. Out of all the Grimwalkers, you looked most like him.”

The term “Grimwalker” is, as far as I can tell, original to The Owl House. But breaking down it’s etymology, it’s a fusion of two words. “Grim” and “walker”. Please hold your ghasps of surprise to the end of the post.

However, the word “grim” has connotations of gloom and seriousness. It’s not a nice word, essentially. Telling someone that they look grim is not a compliment.

It also has connotations of death, most likely linked to the Grim Reaper, and has become part of an overly edgy naming convention that has taken up root in certain parts of the internet and for a very specific group of TTRPG players. I challenge you to find two Shadow The Hedgehog fanfics out there that don’t have a character named “Grimsword” or “Axblade the Grim” or something similar.

This is not a criticism, it's an observation. I honestly find it quaint.

As such, a Grimwalker is someone who moves in death, a zombie, a wraith. A being created from the corpse of another. Alternatively, if we take it more metaphorically, a Grimwalker is a creature that exists as part of a deceased person’s legacy. Walking in the space they left behind.

Once again, however, the difference here is less important than how people respond to it. Because functionally speaking, Hunter is just like Luz and Amity. There’s a tiny difference in the way he casts magic but come on. He walks like a Human, bleeds like a Human, has mental breakdowns like a Human.

The fact that I could substitute out “Human” for “Witch” here makes my point even clearer. The benchmark doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things. They are all more similar than they are different.

For the record, Luz, Amity and Hunter, despite being different species of creature, are all people. They think, therefore they are. I refer you once again to my core argument above.

However, all it takes is that one detail for Bellos to deem these others unworthy of personhood. Although, the way he does it isn’t as pompous as he thinks it is.

Bellos is a megalomaniacal villain with a martyr complex. But his motivation is pathetically small. It never occurred to this man that these others could possibly be people. He didn’t have to decide that Witches or Grimwalkers were less valuable than him, because to him, they never even came close. He’s an eejit who cannot comprehend the world as anything other than a hierarchy with himself at the top, and he’s too scared to change his mind.

He's a witch hunter, someone who believes that personhood has to be earned, and to whom it does not occur that he is sacrificing anything when he kills Hunter. The child is just a tool he can throw away.

Which brings me all the way back to Mary Shelly, and Victor Frankenstein. Because the book isn’t titled “Adam”. It’s not about the created creature, it's about the chaotic narcissism of one human disaster. The book is very much about the monster, and that monster’s name is Victor Frankenstein.

I want to take a moment to point out how good Frankenstein is as a story. As in, classics have a reputation for being overly impressed with themselves. So, it’s worth noting that Frankenstein is a classic because of how enjoyable of a read it is.

There’s an almost tangible building dread where you can see the plot coming and the titular character won’t do anything about it because he isn’t aware that there are other people around him.

Like every story, it’s not for everyone, but in terms of craft, there’s some really good stuff going on in that book and I would highly recommend you give it a read for yourself.

But hold on, Frankenstein isn’t aware of the people around him? That’s eerily similar to Bellos. Even in the ways that operates.

The person whose had their face scratched out of every painting sure looks a lot like Hunter.

Frankenstein doesn’t care about people who want to know if he is ok. He uses Clerval like a butler, talks to his family when he needs them, and is ok with the death of an innocent person because it gets the blame for a crime he directly caused to go away. He views people as tools.

He also creates a creature with weirdly coloured eyes, and then bails despite having created life, because it’s not a perfect creation. He doesn’t stop to contemplate what the creature will do or think at all during the story.

When he is told that the creature will take away his love like he did to its would be wife, it doesn’t occur to Frankenstein to check on the woman he loves at all. People aren’t people to Frankenstein.

Bellos, uses people like tools, etc. etc. creates a person with weird eyes. He even named the creature after its purpose. “Hunter.” This creature hunts things for him, therefore that’s what he calls it.

People aren’t people to Bellos.

The justification he gives for righteousness is Hunter’s appearance. That’s why he was expecting him to last longer. Because he looked most like “him”. Aesthetics are more important to Bellos, which is hilarious because of how monstrous he himself looks.

Introspection is another thing that doesn’t come naturally to Phillip Whittebane.

“It hurts every time he chooses to betray me.”

“What did you do to the other guards? To our family? It wasn’t wild magic, was it?”

Luz and Bellos represent light and darkness, as the series plays with that concept and duality. But instead of good and evil because heaven and hell, the story revolves around the function of the two. Light reveals, darkness conceals. As such, evil in the series is defined mainly as wilful ignorance. Everything else comes as a result that.

To Bellos, the worst thing Hunter could have done was ask questions, and it’s not because Bellos is scared of what he might find. Bellos isn’t ashamed of his actions at all. Bellos just despises the idea of critical thinking.

Notice how empty Bellos' eyes are. Everyone else has that bit of light, but he is hollow. Dead and unmoving. A man whose view of the world hasn't changed in fifty years.

This leads back to what I keep saying about Bellos and his evil in that it is self-sabotaging. Bellos could have kept Hunter as a loyal advisor. He could have turned around and said “no, this was because of Wild Magic. They were all killed in battle.” He had established trust with Hunter. But the simple act of asking questions was all it took.

Bellos isn’t clever, he’s petty. That’s an incredibly important part of hit characterisation, and it carries over to what we will continue to learn about him later on in the series.

"I'll do anything to save humanity from evil."

This is why defining good and evil is important. Because otherwise you end up with stuff like this. Bellos defines evil as "not like Bellos", which means that any act of interiority amongst his tools is a questioning his motives. It means that curiosity and change are evil.

The Owl House as a series fundamentally disagrees with this premise. That's important to understand. Showing a worldview doesn't mean you agree with it, especially when the entire purpose of your story is proving that worldview to be utter bollocks.

Regardless of specific details, the discovery that you are expendable is not one that people are prone to take well. I think a lot of what sells Hunter as a character is Zeno Robinson’s masterclass in acting, and once again, that is on display here. Hunter doesn’t scream, he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t get angry or in denial. He goes through too many emotions at once and hyperventilates. That’s affecting writing, and its impeccably well-acted.

The episode ends on a cliffhanger. The question of what to do next. What can Luz do with the information that she helped Bellos become the emperor? What can Hunter do now that his view of himself has changed?

Bellos places immense significance on a human using his name, because he likes the sound of it. But how is Luz any different sounding than any of the Witches. Hunter and Amity have closer accents to Bellos than Luz. Could it be that Bellos' bigotry is founded in absolute nonsense and is working backwards to justify itself rather than accepting all the evidence in the world that it is wrong? Could it be that bigotry itself is inherently dumb as all hell?

The two reveals hurt the characters because they undercut their entire worldviews. Luz believed that she was special, and yet she was duped just as easily as everyone else, and Hunter…

I started this post with a thing about deceptive techniques, specifically obfuscation. Hunter believed that he was in the right because the actuality of what he was doing was hidden from him. If you look closely at previous episodes, Hunter has even gone out seeking materials, notably the Selkidomus scales, to make another Grimwalker. He could have been let go at any time, but he believed he was safe because he wasn’t told about his purpose.

He also had his trust manipulated. Bellos gave Hunter a reason to believe him. The Titan had decreed that Bellos was smart, therefore he must be trustworthy, and yet that wasn’t the case.

So now, Hunter doesn’t feel safe with the Emperor, and he doesn’t fully trust Luz and Eda yet because of course he doesn’t. That leaves only one place he has found where people are willing to show him kindness.

Final Thoughts

I’m not going to argue that Hollow Mind isn’t one of The Owl House’s best episodes after devoting nearly 4000 words to explaining one element within. I barely referenced Luz and Eda’s development, or the fact that the hooded figures are so obviously Raine, Darius, and Eberwolf.

However, I want to dwell on one of King’s lines from earlier on in the episode.

“No one wants to think they've wasted their life following the wrong person. You just gotta find something big to change their minds.”

The sunk cost fallacy is one of the most influential out there. It says that if you’ve walked down a path for a long time, it’s easier to keep following it and brave the consequences than to go back and try again.

But choice isn’t always an option. Sometimes the path ahead of you stops, and you have to go back, start from scratch, and forge something new.

Next week, a light hearted episode. Them’s the Brakes, Kid, an episode I definitely remembered existing. Definitely didn’t forget an important episode of the series at all. Not me. Never. Stick around if that interests you.

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redroomreflections · 3 months

Text

What They Left Behind

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary :The Avengers and U.S. Government have been trying to take down a privately owned medical company named Visage for years. On a mission gone wrong, Natasha discovers something in the remains. With its existence, she uncovers a dark truth. The Island meets A.I. Artificial Intelligence.

w/c: 8.2k

Icy fingers wrapped around the doorknob in the darkness. The dimly lit porch light allowed her to find her way inside. Natasha pushed the door open gently, hoping it wouldn't disturb the silence encompassing the cozy apartment. Her footsteps creaked against the old wooden floors the more she shuffled down the hallway. Natasha stumbles through your shared space, one arm clutched to her side, the other carrying all of her belongings, as she headed for the bathroom. She didn't pay attention to the gash on her thigh, or the limp in her walk, as her targeted area became more apparent. She used her bad arm to support the extra weight she was carrying as she tried her hardest not to drop everything. Ignoring the pain in her side to bend over the bathtub, She sets everything down gently. She drops her bag outside of the tub, making sure not to jostle anything she was carrying, as she rushes out to the linen closet. She grabs a bunch of towels, a spare blanket, and face towels. She's not thinking straight right now. Her mind is a jumbled mess. She checks the thermostat, turning the heat to a higher temperature, before deciding she's satisfied.

Her next raid is the small bar in a corner of the dining room. She's careful not to get blood anywhere. There's a half-empty bottle of vodka that she plans to drown herself in. She steps lightly, peeking into the closed door of your bedroom, to find you fast asleep. She returns to the bathroom, placing the blanket inside, tucked nicely and neat before leaning against the counter. She rids herself of her jacket, hiding her pain behind a grimace, as she checks her arm. It's not broken. Probably a sprained wrist.

She twists her body around towards the mirror to inspect her face. There's a cut just above her right eyebrow. She bends slightly to reach into the cabinet for a first aid kit. One you reminded her to buy after this same scenario happened one too many times. Next are her pants. She has a more challenging time removing them as they're ripped and the blood from her fresh wound has dried. The stretch material sticks to her legs and she has to maneuver her body to kick them the rest of the way down. She almost knocks the vodka bottle over, using her quick reflexes to catch it before it drops to the ground. She peeks over to the tub, finding that nothing has changed, as she opens the bottle. She approaches the sink, stretching her legs across it, to inspect the cut. It's deep. Probably has glass in it but it's nothing she can't take care of. She takes a sip of the vodka, and then another, and one more before she begins to feel the familiar burn in her throat.

She rifles through the first aid kit for a pair of tweezers before she sighs. This is going to suck.

*****************

You kick the heavy blankets from your body, taking a harsh breath, as you drift in and out of sleep. You flip to your back, hoping to cool off as you toss and turn. It's warm in here. Warmer than you're used to and you know that can only mean one thing. You sit up, looking for any sign of Natasha before you come up short. Her side of the bed is still cold, your phone doesn't have any messages or missed calls, and nothing seems to be out of place. You stand, opening your bedroom door, to see the bathroom light on. That's weird. You look down at the ground, spotting a few drops of blood, a stark contrast from the dark maple wood. You hold your breath in anticipation of what you're about to see. You've been in this position dozens of times before. Often, you could stomach it. it's a part of her job. Natasha is sitting on the bathroom counter, struggling to wrap gauze around her thigh with one hand when you enter.

You immediately jump into action, pushing her hands aside, as you tear the gauze the right way. You glance at her face, taking note of all of her injuries, her bloodshot eyes, and the barely filled bottle of vodka. Natasha watches you, waiting for you to say anything, as she leans back.

"You didn't call," You say finally.

"I was busy," She answers.

"Too busy to call your wife?" You grip her leg a bit tighter than necessary but when you notice the way she tenses, you release it. You're not angry. Not really. Just scared. Whenever Natasha is away on a mission too long you get nervous. That she won't come home. That the last time you saw her would become forever. She knows this. "You skipped debriefing and medical."

"Had to get home to you," Natasha coughs once you're done patching up her leg. You rest your hands on the counter on each side of her. She can see the worry in your eyes. She leans over, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before she pulls back.

"Your face?" You reach up to inspect the cut and she catches your arm. Only then do you realize she's holding her other one to her side. "Natasha, what happened?"

"The usual," She dismisses softly. "I, um, I have something for you." She tilts her chin towards the tub. You turn slowly, peeking into the bathtub, finally noticing the small, sleeping child wrapped up in one of Natasha's t-shirts. You drop to your knees, your eyes scanning over every single part of their tiny body, as you try to come up with a question. You can't see past the layers of dirt and sod on angelic features. "It's why I skipped everything." She answers.

"H-how old is she?" You reach out to brush your hand over matted and tangled curls. Eyes flutter at your touch but she doesn't move.

"He," Natasha corrects and you turn to her. "A boy. He doesn't speak much. Won't tell me his name or anything else. I found him hiding in one of the lab rooms of the places we raided. They were making some kind of drugs or doing experiments. It's not quite clear. There was a fire and he was the only one left. We think that maybe he wandered over there and his real family is out there looking for him."

"and you brought him home," You tsk. You don't know what to make of this situation.

"I didn't know what else to do," Natasha admits. "I wasn't leaving him at the compound. Giving him over to Ross? Not happening. I just I don't know."

"He probably has a family somewhere," You mutter. You shake your head.

"We can look for them but I couldn't," Natasha doesn't finish her sentence but somehow you know. She has such a big heart and she wouldn't have brought him home if she didn't think this was the best option. The child in question stirs but never awakens.

"In the morning I can make some calls to a couple of friends, see what I can find out, and go from there," You stand, wiping your hands against the fabric of your cotton shorts. "Are you okay besides the obvious?" You ask.

"Y-yeah I'm fine," She nods. She beckons you over with her left hand and you oblige. "I missed you." She speaks low and this time the butterflies in your stomach increase tenfold.

"I missed you too," You kiss her lips. "I need to get us some blankets and pillows." You look around the bathroom. You busy yourself with cleaning. "He's sleeping peacefully right now. He's in a new place and I know in the morning he might not be so calm. If we move him he might wake up and I don't want him to be alone when that happens."

Natasha doesn't say a thing. She agrees. She knows this is your way of feeling useful. She's thrown something big at you. You have every right to be upset and yet you're not. She stands on solid ground again, testing out her leg, to find that while there's still some pain she can walk just fine. She keeps watching over the little boy as you gather blankets and pillows for a makeshift bed. Sleeping on the bathroom floor wasn't on your itinerary for tonight but that could change. You make quick work of cleaning up the blood through the hallway before you return to the bathroom. You make everything as comfortable as possible, gesturing for Natasha to lie down before you help her keep her leg elevated by a bunch of pillows. You turn off the lights, making sure to at least keep the hallway light on to act as a nightlight. You're conscious of Natasha's injuries as you lie your head against her chest. Her heartbeat is soothing. It reminds you she's alive and real. Not that you needed it to.

"What if we can't find his family?" Natasha wonders aloud.

You don't have an answer for her. The question is heavy on your mind too. You fall asleep thinking of every scenario in which you'd be able to keep him. You don't want to get your hopes up.

******************

The morning comes quicker than you would have liked. Your back aches and your hips hurt, and you don't feel Natasha under you. You wipe at your face, feeling around the covers, to find the spot by your side empty. You lift your head, looking around the bathroom, with big green eyes looking at you from just a few feet away.

"Hi," You muster up words as you sit up.

The child doesn't say anything. He simply watches your every move.

"Did you sleep okay?" You ask. You can faintly hear Natasha in the background. She must be in the kitchen. The little boy nods. "That's good." You move to scoot a bit closer but stop yourself when you notice he tenses. "No. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. My name is Y/n. What's your name?"

The boy shrugs. Okay, you're glad he understands English. You're also starting to understand how difficult this will be if he doesn't know his name and he isn't willing to speak.

"Do you have a name?" You question. You almost smack yourself at asking such a dumb thing until he shakes his head. "Oh. okay. I, um, okay." You take a deep breath. Natasha's voice gets a little louder and his eyes dart over to the door. "That's my wife, Natasha, she brought you here. Do you remember that?"

He nods. That's good.

"Are you hungry?" You ask him. "I can make chocolate chip pancakes. Would you like that?" You ask and he nods again. You stand, holding out your hand for him to take, and he does without hesitation. You walk with him out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Natasha's on the phone, seemingly a bit angry, as she paces. She spots you and your guest, waving her hand to say hello before she turns away. Her attention has been pulled elsewhere. She knows he's safe with you either way. You look down, noticing the pout on his face at Natasha's lack of enthusiasm. "I feel that way too sometimes." You say. You help him to sit on a stool so that he can see both of you.

You look around the kitchen. You don't have much food that's interesting to kids. You and Natasha live quiet lives and really only have the necessities. Your house is not bared but it's certainly not equipped for a child. You look over at him as he waits patiently for your next move. He's so quiet.

Natasha moves to kiss you hello before she lowers her phone to speak.

"I'm on a conference call with Steve and the rest of the team. They're trying to find some of his family." She whispers before exiting the room.

You bend over to look into the fridge deciding on pancakes and eggs for this morning's meal.

"You like eggs right?" Again your question is answered with a shrug. You make enough breakfast for the three of you. Your morning coffee is all you want so you put on a pot for that. You lean against the counter, looking over at him, as he occupies himself with walking his fingers over the cool marble. He's clearly bored. He looks utterly adorable with his messy hair and curious eyes, and he's swimming in Natasha's t-shirt. The sleeves cover his arms and the rest of his body. Hopefully, it's keeping him warm. "How old are you? Do you know that?"

He lifts his head when he realizes you're addressing him. He holds up three fingers.

"You're three?" You confirm and he looks at his hands in confusion. He takes his hand, using it to push up one more finger, before showing it to you. "You're four?" You ask and he nods again. "you just had a birthday?" You take a wild guess and he nods again with wide eyes. "Okay, that's good, um happy birthday." You try to figure out what to ask next. You rifle through the drawers, hoping to find a pen and paper before he stops being so willing to talk. "Did you have a party?" He shakes his head. "Okay, did you have a cake or presents?" He furrows his brow at this. Did he know what any of those things were? Suddenly you're not so sure.

You reach over to the stove, turning it off before you fix him a plate of food. You don't want to make any of this feel like an interrogation. He's still so little and with having a traumatic night he could be forgetting key details about his life. You cut the pancakes into tiny pieces, before putting syrup on the side. The eggs are scrambled as you feel like that's the safest option for a child. You place it in front of him before you step back. You don't watch him, opting to make yourself and Natasha a cup of coffee as you wait. You turn around to find he hasn't touched anything. His fork lies in the same spot beside the eggs. He's looking at the plate as if he's never seen any of this stuff before. He takes his hand, dipping his finger into the syrup, before licking it with his tongue. The sugary sweetness is good and so he dips it again.

"You don't want to try your pancakes?" You approach him. He stops his licking to look up at you. "They're good I promise." You take a pancake, dipping it into the syrup much like he did before, and you take a bite. Reluctantly, he tries it too. Then he gestures for you to try again. It's a back-and-forth tactic that tends to work with all your patients. This one included. Not that he's one of your patients. He's a lost little boy with nowhere else to go. "You know, we're going to have to figure out something to call you." You inform him. This time he points to you. "You want me to pick?" You ask and he nods. You put a finger to your chin not noticing that he's trying to show you his wrist. Surely you could think of something.

Before you can come up with something, Natasha returns to the kitchen. You pass her the cup of coffee, standing beside her, as she drinks from it.

"So, I found out he's four, he's never had pancakes apparently, and he just had a birthday." You inform her.

"That's good," She nods. "The team is still a bit unsure where and how he got into the lab but they're searching every database and working with police to figure out where his family is." She looks over at him as he eats his eggs with his hands. "For now I think he's here. You don't mind do you?"

"No, of course not, I think we're friends," You gesture over to him. "He's going to need clothes though. He can't just walk around in your clothes."

"I can go," She offers and you stop her.

"I can go. You're still injured. What you can do is sit on the couch and keep him entertained while I grab him a few things. He's on the small side but sizes should be true." You instruct.

"You're going to leave me here alone with him?" She looks terrified.

"Natasha, you came here alone with him." You remind her.

"Right, you're right," She relaxes. "I can do it. It's just like babysitting Lila and Cooper."

"Right," You kiss her cheek. You step over to the little boy, as he finishes his breakfast before he looks up at you. Something about his gaze and the way he seems so compliant unsettles you. "Hey, I'm going to step out for a little bit. Just going to the store. It'll be about one hour. I know you can't tell the time but if you think it's too long you can ask Natasha and she'll call me on the phone. Is that okay?"

He nods, puffing up his chest before he looks over to Natasha. It's his own little act of bravery. He feels safe with both of you. You don't want to test that and so you move fast. You don't waste time getting dressed and brushing your teeth. You're prepared well enough to go out.

Natasha is still in the kitchen with your guest when she notices the mood change. His lips curl into a pout, as he fiddles with his hands, his eyes flashing back and forth to the door.

"She'll come back," Natasha breaks him from his thoughts. He looks at her with a serious expression. "She tells the truth always. Until then would you like to watch some TV?" She suggests and he shrugs. Of course.

Natasha dumps the plates into the sink before taking him over to the couch. He climbs up, sitting all the way back against the cushions before he looks over at her expectantly. It takes her a few seconds before Natasha finds an acceptable kids' show. Dora The Explorer. She sits down right next to him and patiently waits for your return.

******************

You never thought shopping for a child would be on your to-do list. You're in one of the aisles at Walmart, looking through their toddler clothes, when you find yourself dissatisfied. You're a psychologist, you know a decent amount about kids, but you never knew how hard it would be to shop for them. Especially when the boys' section doesn't have as much available. You gather a few t-shirts, ones with dinosaurs, ones with trucks, and even some with funny sayings on them before you collect the bottoms. It's still pretty warm outside but you grab an assortment. Next are the socks and the underwear and before you know it you've migrated over to the toy aisle.

You message Natasha to see if she agrees and she texts back with a photo of herself and the little one watching TV. Something inside you shifts. Seeing a photo of the two of them. The way he's curled into Natasha's side and how comfortable he is with her. You two shelved the idea of children. At least for a few years. Work is too crazy for a child. Natasha with her long missions and you picking up more cases at work. You're on track to own your own private practice. Everything's falling into place. Having a child would change things. Besides, you can't keep him. He probably has a family and people that love and miss him.

You receive another text from Natasha agreeing that he needs toys. You'd be happy to give them to him. You grab a few things that you think he'd like. Next is groceries. There's not much food at home, and you're definitely spending more than you anticipated, but you need it.

On the way home, you make a few calls.

First is Herbert Messing. He's a detective and one of your old college classmates. You check in to see if he's heard anything about a missing child.

"I haven't, not one that fits your description," Herbert denies. "Surely if he was truly lost someone would be looking for him by now. Send over a picture or bring him to the station."

"I can send a picture but bringing him to the station may be tough," You sigh. Natasha would be upset at you for texting and driving. You quickly send a picture at the red light. "I um, I think since it's technically Avengers business Ross might be on the case and..."

"And I know how snoopy he can be," Herbert sighs. "I'll see what I can do on my end but I make no promises."

"Thank you, love you a ton, bye." You hang up quickly. How could this little boy not have a family looking for him? Was this one of those rare cases where he's so far from home it'll take a while to find him?

Either way, you're not handing him over to Ross.

*************

Back home, Natasha is drifting off to sleep on the couch. The little one is still full of energy. He wants to tap her and ask her where you are. It's taking you longer than you said. You're right he can't tell time but it's beginning to feel like an eternity. He watches Natasha's face to make sure she is sleeping before he slides down from the couch. He tiptoes to the bathroom, then the kitchen, and finally the bedroom. Some of your clothes are still tossed about and there's a robe on the bed. He steps over to the bed to drag his fingers along the fabric. It's scratchy but soft. He likes it. He pulls himself onto the mattress, covering his entire body in the robe before he falls asleep.

***************

Less than a half-hour later you arrive back home with a dozen bags. You struggle the entire way into the private entrance before you manage to unlock it. You drop the bags near the front door to go find Natasha. She's asleep on the couch. Alone.

"Natasha, "You tap her. "Natasha." You say again and she sits up quickly. "Where's the little one?"

She makes a face of confusion before she looks around. "Fuck." She shakes her head. "Such a rookie mistake." She berates herself.

"The door was still locked so I doubt he left." You don't panic. You're the calm one. He can't be too far. You check the bathroom while Natasha checks the kitchen. You're running around your bedroom when you notice something is out of place. You walk closer, realizing it's him, fast asleep wrapped up in your robe. "Nat!" You call causing him to open his eyes. He whimpers, a sound sort of like a happy puppy reuniting with his owner, as he sits on his knees. Somehow you understand him. "I'm sorry. I took too long but I brought presents." You say and his eyes light up at the now-familiar word. Natasha walks into the room with a hand on her hip.

"I can't believe I fell asleep." She mutters and you wave her off.

"It happens," You say. "I think the little one would like to open his presents."

"Oh, yeah, we can do that." Natasha holds her hand out and he takes it. He's so willing to do everything you say. So far, he's perfect. Almost too perfect. You know Natasha has noticed it too. He moves and reacts as if he's been conditioned or programmed to. He doesn't really seem to oppose anything. Top that with not being familiar with pancakes or breakfast or even birthdays and presents. You don't know what you're dealing with.

You drag the bags into the living room where you pull out the toys first. All three of you sit on the floor, Natash pushing the coffee table aside so that you can have more room. The first thing you pull out of the bag is a fire truck toy. It's long and red and has a couple buttons to press. He simply looks at it.

"Has he ever played with a toy?" Natasha poses the question and you're having the same train of thought. She pushes it, showing him how to play with it and he seems interested enough. He crawls over to the toy, tapping it with his fingers, before turning it over. Natasha presses a button, causing the toy to light up, and the siren to sound. He doesn't like this at all. Instead of the happy reaction both of you were hoping for he backs away and doesn't stop until he's pressed against the couch.

"You don't like this one?" You ask remaining calm. Keep your voice soothing. Natasha calls it your doctor's voice. He shakes his head. He claps his hands over his ears. "It's too loud." You explain to Natasha. She flips the switch effectively killing the siren.

You try another toy, a ball, passing it to him to see his reaction. He turns it over his hands. He likes it.

"I talked to Herb," You say when he seems occupied enough. "There's nothing out there indicating he's a missing child. I called a couple others that I know and everything came up short." You inform her.

"On my end too," Natasha says. "They're doing a bit more digging into this lab. Visage had their hand in a lot of crooked pots. I don't know." She bites her lips.

"What's wrong?" You ask as you keep an eye on the boy.

"I don't know the whole thing was just too easy," Natasha shrugs. "It's a mission. Just like any other. We go in. We fight. We get out. Of course, there's always potential for them to torch things or destroy things. The lab was destroyed. Set on fire. There were these pods. I don't know what to call it. They looked like tanning beds or something but I- I can't describe it. Like it was out of a movie or something. It can't be a coincidence that he was left behind." She looks at him with a hard gaze. "He couldn't have just wondered over."

"Do you think someone left him on purpose?"

Natasha doesn't answer. She doesn't know truly.

"Well until then we have to give him a name to call him." You mull it over. "I don't want to keep calling him the boy."

"Do you have anything in mind?" She questions.

"I was thinking something simple but not like David or Jacob," You shake your head. "How about Micah?" You ask and his head turns towards you. Almost as if he's decided it's his name too.

"Would you want that to be your name?" Natasha catches his attention. He blinks at her offering her no indication that he agrees. He points to you.

"Yes," You nod. "My name is Y/n. Her name is Natasha. Your name could be Micah. Is that good?" You attempt to help him understand. He nods enthusiastically. Suddenly as if he just realizes something, he reaches into the bag and pulls out a white graphic tee with a colorful astronaut on it. He holds it up.

"I think he wants a bath," Natasha takes a wild guess. Micah looks down at himself and then back to the shirt.

"That's right it's yours," You encourage. "We could take a bath. Then you could wear it. How about that?" You smile. He nods again. You grab a few of the bath items to use as you all travel into the bathroom. Natasha makes herself useful by running the bath water. She adds a capful of your favorite bubble bath. You move to help Micah with his shirt when he slaps your hand away. His breathing increases and he backs away from you.

Natasha tilts her head, wondering what warranted that reaction, but you're not as confused.

"I'm sorry," You apologize sincerely. "I know you're a bit messy and we wanted to take a bath right? Did you want to take your shirt off alone?"

He shakes his head no. That perplexes you. Had something bad happened in the bath?

"It's not too hot," Natasha shows him by dipping her hand in. He looks to her and back to you.

"I could get in with you?" You try. He seems almost surprised by this. His shaking hands drop to his side. "There are bubbles so I won't see anything. I could show you how to bathe. It's fun."

He nods. You help him with his shirt this time before you strip yourself down to your t-shirt and underwear. It's not the most appropriate outfit but you needed to get him clean. You climb in first, before helping him in. It's then you notice the dark ink on his wrist. It's a branding of sorts. A tattoo. You look to see if Natasha saw. She has.

"He has a tattoo," You speak. You're sure now this company was up to more than any of you are ready for. You use a bit of soap to scrub against his skin to find it still there. Before Micah changes his mind you get to work scrubbing him quickly. He sits still, not showing any emotion, as you clean him. His hair is another story. It's more of a task to wash. You talk to him about your childhood dog to distract him. "Cookie was her name." You smile reminiscently. "She was the most loyal dog I've ever met." You say and he follows your movements with his eyes. "Tilt your head back." You use the cup Natasha gives you to rinse his hair. A little water gets to his face and he flinches. "Oh, I'm sorry," You reach for his towel and clean his face free. His hair is long and now that it's untangled it flows down his back.

"All done," Natasha holds out a towel. She helps him out, wrapping him up tightly before she sniffs him. "You smell good now." She grins before giving him thumbs up. When you step out to grab your own towel, he walks over to you and sniffs. He turns back to Natasha to give her a thumbs up. This causes her to give a belly laugh. "He thinks you smell good."

"Good to know." You nod. You run to your room to get dressed in dry clothes so that you can help Natasha. You come back and he already has the shirt, new shorts, and socks on his feet. He continues to rub his hands over the shirt, as if unfamiliar with the fabric before he drops them to his side. "It's cotton." You say before you bring over a brush for his hair. "Natasha's going to brush your hair."

He glances at her before nodding again. That would be fine. Natasha is gentle and quick. She makes sure not to pull too hard as she detangles. He stands patiently, his eyes trained on a speck on the floor, as you clean the bathroom. Natasha's phone rings in the distance and a small noise erupts from his throat.

"It's okay, it's just a phone," You furrow your brow. You go and grab it for Natasha and read the caller ID to her. "It's Steve." You trade Micah for the phone. He frowns when she leaves the room to take the call. "Micah, can I ask you some things?" You dip your head to catch his eyes. You take him to your bedroom where you help him onto the bed.

He keeps his hands in his lap.

"Did you have a family where you lived?" You ask. He doesn't seem to recognize the word. "Okay, a Mommy or Daddy?" He tilts his head. "A Mommy?" You guess and he shakes his head. "Do you know what that is?" He shakes his head again. "Okay, um," you find yourself fumbling a lot. All of your years of studying straight out of the window. "A mommy, some people call them Mama, is the woman that takes care of you. They feed you. Bathe you. Give you hugs. They make you feel safe. They keep you safe."

He presses his finger to your chest. Your heart breaks and is fixed back again at the gesture.

"I-I am not your Mama," You find yourself saying with a tinge of sadness. "I didn't give birth to you." You whisper. "Did you get lost?" You go through your list of questions. He either nods or shakes his head.

No. He doesn't have parents. No, he didn't get lost. Yes, he lived in the lab. Yes, he played games. No, he doesn't remember things from before. This leaves you at square one. You're thinking back to the bath, how afraid he was. The tattoo. Your mind flashes to every single SciFi movie you've ever seen and you're jumping to a big conclusion.

"They want us to bring him in for testing," Natasha tucks her phone into her pocket. "They have clues but Helen Cho wants to do some DNA testing."

"Natasha I think we should discuss what I think he is," You tell her.

"No time we need to do this now," She searches for her keys. "They're following a lead and we need to chase it before it runs cold." You know what she's doing. She's distancing herself. It is what she does to prepare herself from getting hurt. You know your wife better than anybody. From the moment she decided to bring him home you know she fell in love. You stand to stop her, gripping her by her forearms, to keep her in her place.

"Don't do this," You plead with her. "Don't check out yet. He still needs us no matter what happens. For all we know it's just testing. We know there's still a slim chance he may have a family and we can help him reunite with them."

"He doesn't," Natasha husks. She pulls you out of the bedroom noting how closely he's watching you. "They don't believe he ever had any or that he does but it's so complicated."

"So that trumps my theory of him being some sort of alien or supernatural being," You say. She frowns. "Don't knock it. It's not the craziest thing we would see."

"You're not too far off from what we've been thinking," Natasha looks over to him. "Tony and Steve are going to tell us when we get there."

"Guess we're taking a trip." You sigh.

So much for a peaceful day.

**************

The car ride to the compound turns out to be a completely new experience for Micah. He shields his eyes away from the natural light, and turns his face into your side, as he sits in the backseat with you. Maybe you should have put sunglasses on the list. You think you're more nervous than Natasha as you pull into the garage of the compound. You opt to carry him in with Natasha by your side. You’re welcomed into the lab, walking through familiar glass doors, to find the team all gathered.

"Great you're here," Tony claps his hands. "Now we can hand Kyle Xy over to Ross or the FBI and let them handle things."

"What does he mean?" You look to Natasha. You sit with Micah in your lap, not pushing him away, as he hides his face in your chest.

"Well, I'll let Helen do the talking," Steve says and Helen Cho stands. She's a geneticist and sometimes the go-to scientist for the rest of the team.

"So, we got a hold of Visage's old files," Helen begins as she clicks a button on the tiny remote in her hand effectively powering up the projector. Sam turns off the lights before going to sit in his chair. "Turns out one of their biggest cash cows was the process of cloning. Basically, they transfer the DNA of a human's somatic cell into another cell that's had its nucleus and DNA removed. Then that cell grows into an embryo and as we know forms a child."

"Like IVF?" Natasha questions and Helena moves her head from side to side.

"Sort of only the embryo isn't implanted into a woman's uterus," Helen clicks again and a grainy picture appears on the screen. "They were cloning humans. As I mentioned they keep the embryos in incubator-like pods for growth. The embryos grow at rapid rates according to their set time. Like a microwave of sorts. Only they're cryogenic chambers meant to keep them in stasis until the hosts need them."

"And who are these hosts?" You're trying to keep up.

"Other people. Humans. People with money or anyone willing to pay a pretty penny." Helen answers

"So what? it's illegal surrogacy?" Sam throws out and she doesn't respond.

"They were using these clones for medical reasons," Tony explains." It's one of Visage's biggest money-makers. Even more sinister than we thought. Basically, these billionaires pay a lot of money for a clone and their doppelganger is made with perfectly healthy organs and such. If they get sick or old or injured they use the body parts or organs for themselves. "

Micah shifts in your arms to peek over at everyone.

"So he's a clone?" You tilt your head.

"Essentially yes," Tony folds his arms under his chest.

"And what do they do with the clones once they get what they want?" Steve questions. He's not a fan of cryofreezing after being victim to it.

"They freeze them again or keep them in stasis," She clicks another photo showing the naked body of what seems to be a grown man as he's hooked up to an umbilical cord. The pod is filled with water as he floats. Micah runs from your lap to the screen. His breathing increases as he looks up at the screen. Does he remember something?

"Hey, kid, you recognize this? Tony asks. " Kid?"

"He doesn't talk," Natasha speaks for him.

"Can he?" Steve questions.

"Medically speaking, yes." Helen answers. "He's choosing not to."

"Selective mutism," You describe. "It happens for a lot of children with an anxiety disorder that visits the clinic. After something traumatic they stop speaking in certain situations."

"Would he be able to have an anxiety disorder all things considered?"

"I don't know," Helen admits. "For all intents and purposes, he is a normal child. He may not feel pain or emotion like one. Think of him as a robot if you will or a newborn infant. They released him too late."

"What do you mean too late?"

"The records we found and the tattoo on his wrist," Helen points. " Would indicate he already belongs to a host family. A wealthy diplomat and his wife. Their daughter needed a heart transplant due to a defect. She died before they could do the procedure."

"Is that not the same as having a baby to use for its sick sibling?" Steve points out.

"I'm inclined to say yes but..." Helen doesn't finish. "We were looking to run some tests on his organs and his brain."

"Did you contact this family?" You ask as Micah continues to stand at the front of the room.

"We did but due to privacy and status, they were unwilling to cooperate," Tony sighs. "They don't want to be caught up in something so out there. Crooks they are. We asked the if they would want to take in the boy."

"And what did they say?" Natasha sits up straight.

"They said that he had no soul," Helen says matter of factly. Micah looks up to her upon hearing those words. "That he's not real and they were washing their hands of the entire situation. They lawyered up. If the government comes after them they're willing to fight but they don't want a child that's not real to them."

"Jesus," You curse. "So what now?"

"I say we run the tests and hand him over to Ross," Tony throws his hands up in mock surrender. "We already have our hands full with everything else around here. No way can we take in a child."

You look over at Natasha pleadingly. No way would you be able to give him up. Natasha remains quiet. Has she changed her mind?

"We've set up the lab and can have tests back in a couple of hours."

"You're going to poke and prod a little boy?" You find yourself getting angry. "Run your tests on him and what? Throw him to the wolves because you have too much on your plate? How are you any better than those other people? Than Visage?"

No one says a word.

"We're not equipped to keep him. We don't know what can happen or how he will turn out," Steve begins so you stand in anger.

"Unbelievable," You shake your head with tears in your eyes. You can't stand to see this. You won't. You rush out of the lab and out to the courtyard. You need some air. Natasha follows you with a scowl on her face. Micah simply stands. Was he to follow you?

When she locates you, you turn away from her.

"Y/n," Natasha attempts to touch your shoulder and you yank out of her reach.

"Why did you bring him home?" You try to wipe the tears from your eyes. "Why did you do this? I was perfectly fine and I knew it could be something and..did you hear them talking about him? He doesn't have a soul? No emotions? They talked about him as if he wasn't even human. As if he isn't a child. A baby." You stop yourself from sobbing. You swipe angrily at your face.

"I know," Natasha sits next to you.

"It's only been a day but Nat," You whimper. " I can't stand by and let them do that." You shake your head. She remains silent.

It's Wanda that interrupts your moment together.

"They're ready to do the testing," She gauges your reaction. You can't really be mad at the teen for relaying the message. It was just a few years ago she was in the same predicament. "For what it's worth I think he would like you there."

You nodded. He would. You stand first, then Natasha, and you cradle her hand in yours. You could do this. You follow Wanda to the lab where she stands. Micah is seated on one of the metal tables. He's still in his astronaut shirt and red shorts. His expression is blank but his eyes follow every single person in the room. Tony and the rest of the team stand on one side of the room. You and Natasha on the other. Your fingers are pressed against the glass, watching in anticipation.

"Ross is on his way," Tony mentions, and your finger twitches. You've never wanted to commit a crime more than you did now.

You watch in trepidation as Helen Cho inspects the tattoo on his wrist. She holds out his arm as another scientist prepares to take blood. You don't turn away as the needle pricks his skin. You narrow your eyes when you spot the tiniest flinch from Micah. He could feel that? Almost like pain. Though he doesn't blink or move again. They take blood. They poke and they prod. Finally, they have to do tests on his brain.

No one else seems to see it but you can. The unease on the little boy's face as he allows them to attach chords to his head and his chest. There's one almost like a helmet and that's when you see it again. A flinch. He's been in this position before you deduce. He was birthed and grown in a lab. He knows what this is like and he doesn't like it.

His lips move almost as if he's mimicking a word but you can't quite make out what he's saying. It's over sooner than you know it. Next is another contraption that resembles an MRI machine.

"Keep still, 007." One of the scientists instructs him. They're calling him by the tattoo.

"His name is Micah." You mutter to yourself. You can feel Natasha's soothing hand on your back. Even then you can't calm down. As if by magic, you can feel another presence. You turn your head just slightly to find Ross and a few of his henchmen as you like to call them. They're strapped with guns and army gear. "You don't need all of that for a child." You find yourself saying aloud.

Ross's challenging expression sends chills down your spine. "You may think so but we don't know what we are dealing with. It's just a precaution." He explains before he approaches Tony. They converse quietly and you turn back to watch.

Micah's tiny hands are shaking and his lips are moving again. His head is moving even though he's been instructed to keep still.

"What's he saying?" You ask and Natasha removes her hand to step closer to the glass. "Nat, he doesn't like it in there." You inform her. "Let me go get him." Natasha doesn't want to be the one to stop you but she'd rather herself than someone else. You don't move just yet.

"No," You can hear a small voice. "No." He cries again and you know it's Micah. "Mama!" He yells and your heart soars. "Mama!" He screams at the top of his lungs. "Mama!" He screams again as he thrashes against the table. This stops everyone in their tracks. Even Ross. You rush around them, straight into the lab, and right over to Micah as he continues to cry out for his Mama. For you. He chose you. You don't hesitate to pick him up, pulling all of the wires from his body to toss them on the floor. Micah sobs as you cradle him to you. The only thing on your mind is him as you comfort him. You don't care who is watching. Your only priority is him.

"I'm real," He whispers into your neck. "I'm real." He repeats over and over. As if he’s trying to convince himself and you.

"I know, Micah, I know." You shush him. You can hear the cocking of a gun and a groan of pain behind you. You turn quickly to find Natasha has stripped one of Ross's henchmen of his gun, pointing it at his head while holding his arms behind his back.

"You even think about touching her and I will kill him," Natasha threatens everyone around you. Her voice is pure venom and you know she's serious. What have you gotten into? "I will kill you all."

"We just want the child." Ross raises his hands. "That's what we came here for."

"Y/n, do you really want to put your wife in danger for this?" Tony seems so chill about all of this. Suddenly he's going from a friend to an enemy. "Are you willing to risk her life for someone you just met last night?"

You feel the deep-seated guilt as your eyes travel around the room.

"I'm real," Micah sobs again and you let tears fall from your own eyes. "Mama." He pleads and your heart practically falls out of your chest. You can't let him go.

"He feels pain," You manage to say with a shaky breath. "When you poked him with that needle you noticed it didn't you?" You ask and the scientist looks away. He's too afraid to get involved but that's all the answer you needed. "He has emotions. You can see from how hard he's crying that he has fucking emotions." You growl and he whimpers again. You kiss his head before trying to calm yourself. "You can't just take him."

"He's property of the United States Government," Ross reminds you.

"Call your boss," Natasha demands. Ross begins to protest but she stops him. "Call him or I start shooting." She wraps her thumb tighter around the gun.

Ross dramatically sighs before pulling out his phone. He waits impatiently before the phone picks up. He looks perturbed as he gives a general explanation of what is going on.

"Let me speak to him," Natasha gestures and he looks at her as if she's crazy. Then, as if he was also asked to speak to Natasha, he passes the phone to her. He acts as if this is the most troubling thing he's ever seen. "Hi," She says roughly. "I can't let you do that." Natasha challenges. "You see you owe me a favor. Let's call it even." Natasha says. "You get your guys to go home. I keep the boy." Natasha stops to listen, glancing over at you before she looks back to the phone. "When I take him home you don't come after us. You don't try again later. You leave him." She clearly instructs. She releases the gun. Lowering it to her side. She slides the phone back to Ross.

He takes it, hoping to come out victorious, only for there to be a frown on his face again. He nods his head a few times, giving a yes every other minute before he finally hangs up.

"Wrap it up boys, he's going with them," Ross sighs. "This isn't over Romanoff." He says before they storm out. The henchman reaches for his gun and Natasha points it at his head again. How was he expecting to get that back?

She watches them leave, making sure they're a safe distance before she steps over to you.

"Is he okay?" She asks and you nod.

"Micah, sweetie, can you let me look at you?" You ask as you set him down on the table. His eyes are wet and his face screws into a big pout.

"I'm real," He comments again. You nod while fixing his hair.

"You are real." You say. "Nat, what do we do?"

"We live our lives as usual," She says and your eyes flash to hers. "The favor is in. I called it. Still have to keep watch. They're going to come after him eventually."

"Nat, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to be-"

"For better or for worse right," Natasha shrugs. "If you truly believe everything and you want him we can keep him."

"He's not an animal," You remind her. She silently scolds herself.

"I know I just... I brought him home and I want him too." She ultimately admits. You nod. You could live with that. You pick him up again, walking around the forgotten wires, to exit the building.

"Tony, you're dead to me," Natasha doesn't even look his way as she walks with you. Her eyes scan the area, making sure no one is going to stop you, as you head towards the garage. When you're at the car, you climb in, buckling him in, before Natasha turns with a gun drawn to whoever has been following you. "Wanda!" She curses before she tucks it away. You step out of the car to come around.

"I want to go with you," She insists.

"We're just going home," Natasha says.

"Bullshit," Wanda argues. "You're running."

Your eyes dart to your wife. You know but even still would she admit that to Wanda?

"Wanda, you're sixteen," Natasha says.

"So," Wanda shrugs. "I don't want this family if you're not there."

There's a silence where you and Natasha think it over. Wanda would never forgive you if you said no.

"Get in," Natasha relents and you all jump into action. Wanda hops into the front seat and you in the back just as the rest of the team enters the garage. Natasha starts the car and drives as fast and as safely as she can. She continues to your apartment where you all enter. "Pack your things quickly. Don't take what you don't need." She says. She grabs a few duffel bags while you head to your bedroom. Micah is left to sit with Wanda. You pack important papers, passports, documents, and other things.

Micah slides down from the couch over to the toys you left out. He taps at the fire truck, before pressing the button, not flinching this time as the siren goes off. You step out of the bedroom to see him so calm.

Were you really doing this?

"You ready?" Natasha exits the bathroom with a bag full.

"Y-yeah," You nod before going to grab your own packed bags. You rush the kids out of the door and down the stairs again. That's the last you would see of your apartment.

******************

Three months later... "Mom, he's refusing to come inside again," Wanda calls out as she sets the table for dinner.

"Again with this boy," You shake your head as you turn off the stove. "Where's Natasha?"

Wanda shrugs. You wipe your hands on your jeans to exit through the backdoor. You're about to give Micah a light scolding when you spot him in the grass, picking something, not aware of your presence. He looks up as the back door slams. He gives you a wide smile. His cheeks are dirty, he's not wearing shoes, and his shorts have grass stains. Even still he looks adorable.

He runs over to you with something behind his back.

"What you got there, buddy?" You ask as you kneel down. His smile grows even wider.

"Present, Mama." He says before he holds out his hand. Small yellow flowers that he picked from the grass. It's the best present you've ever received.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natasha romanov #natsxaddiction

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kiyaar · 14 days

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Possessed by Light: An AI Tony Exchange CREATOR REVEALS!

POSSESSED BY LIGHT: An AI (Steve)Tony Exchange has come to a close! Thank you to our creators, our cheerleaders, and our esteemed pinch hitter. Here is a masterlist of 13 delicious works (4 art, 9 fic) featuring our sad blue boy. This exchange was designed to generate more comics SteveTony works, so most works feature 616, but we do have 2 Noir works and 1 Ults work! We hope you enjoy this feast and please remember to show your chefs some love in the comments! Works under the cut:

art: Ballet Aérien by @oluka for @tinystark616

Tags: superior iron man, digital art Summary: SIM has taken an interest to AI Tony.

art: PbL: Dissonant Messages by @somekindofsheepl for @mserm

Tags: hydra steve rogers, hurt no comfort, tentacles, sharing a bed, these tags are a mess Summary: Tony has a little bit of a headache. Don't worry about it, everything is fine.

art: artificial intelligence out of time by kenobleeaaarrrgghh for @ayapandagirl

Tags: alternate universe, role reversal Summary: my fill for the AI tony exchange! for the prompt: [noir universe]'s version of AI tony

art: "Error 1610 File not Found" and "Wired to Obey" by badworldgood for @somekindofsheepl

Tags: Possessive Steve Rogers, Creepy Victor von Doom, Victor von Doom Being an Asshole, Cancer, Angst, Fanart , Ultimates, 616 Summary: UltsTony saves himself from the brain cancer by becoming an AI...or so they think. File corruption becomes an issue / AI Tony ends up in a damaged Doombot. Doom may grow attached, Steve is not happy once he finds out.

fic: no happy endings by @mserm for @kiyaar (8.8k)

Tags: choose your own adventure, POV second person, unhappy ending, everything feels wrong and nobody is ok Summary: AI Tony's greatest fear is that he'll be replaced by flesh-and-blood Tony. What will he do to stop it? That's for you to decide.

fic: hold me (like it's the last time) by @tinystark616 for @ralsbecket (3.8k)

Tags: hydra steve rogers, pining, angst with a happy ending, getting together, fix it, I mean first I made it worse and then I fixed it, sad AI tony, alternate universe - canon divergence Summary: Hydra Cap attempts to convince AI Tony to stay with him with promises to make Tony real. Tony wants to be real, but he wants the real Steve back even more.

fic: You don't have to be a ghost here amongst the living by @ayapandagirl for badworldgood (3.2k)

Tags: secret empire, existential crisis, transhumanism, artist steve rogers, modeling, timeline what timeline, AU - canon divergence Summary: AI Tony Stark struggles with identity and Steve offers a novel approach to the problem: modeling.

fic: Imagine Being Loved by Me by @ralsbecket for @rowantreeisme (2.5k)

Tags: established relationship, touch-starved, frottage, pining, references to depression, implied/referenced alcohol abuse, angst, hurt/comfort, ambiguous/open ending Summary: He lifts his hand, fingers hovering just over the slope of Tony’s nose and side of his cheek, blue light washing over it. There’s a hesitation there, in Steve’s eyes, as he inquires, “Can I touch you, or…?” Tony can guess what Steve doesn’t have the heart to finish: Can I touch you, or will I pass through you like you were nothing?

fic: body and mind and sun by @dirigibleplumbing for @oluka (5.2k)

Tags: secret empire, hydra steve rogers, AI tony stark, AU - canon divergence, transhumanism, body horror, body modification, angst, dark, forced intimacy, ambiguous/open ending Summary: Steve's engineering team insists that learning Stark's secrets is a waste of time. What can he offer Steve that they can't? Hydra has a spy in the resistance. They are on their way to completing the Cube. What more could he want? He wants Tony.

fic: do iron men dream of warm flesh? by ves.larkinson for @dirigibleplumbing (21.1k)

Tags: Transhumanism, Comic Book Science, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, action/adventure elements, Coming of Age as an AI, Attempt at Humor, Philosophy, Existentialism, Time bullets, Identity Disability (sort of), tony is de-coma'd just before steve is de-HYDRA'd, Queer Themes, Civil War, Amnesia, Guilt, Betrayal, Post-Marvel Comic Event: Dark Reign (2008), Post-Marvel Comic Event: Secret Empire (2017) Summary: The artificial intelligence called Tony Stark is in it way over his head. The “real” Tony Stark is isolating himself, trying to ignore his part in the Civil War and the Dark Reign that followed it; and Steve is falling into guilt over his part in the Secret Empire. Tony has no history, and his human counterpart has too much. Somewhere between them, there might be a way forwards—for all three of the men in this shitshow.

fic: fate, commitment by @rowantreeisme for kenobleeaaarrrgghh (40.5k)

Tags: Edwin Jarvis, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, World War II, Comic: Iron Man Noir (2010), Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Nazi Germany, Pre-Slash, Time Travel, Espionage, Canon-Typical Body Horror Summary: Cell fate commitment: the process through which a stem cell becomes committed to it's final state, and the means through which this is determined through genetics and molecular signalling.

fic: Similitude by @winnifredburkle for ves.larkinson (1.5k)

Tags: BDSM, armor kink, dubious consent, selfcest Summary: Tony gives AI Tony control of an Iron Man suit. For sex purposes. It doesn't quite go how he expected.

fic: Eidolon by @kiyaar for @starvels (22.9k)

Tags: established relationship, threesome - f/m/m, intellectual strap sucking, a dead celestial is sometimes a home, consent issues cockwarming, electroplay, secret empire, civil war II, canon compliant, angst, alcoholism, wistful flesh hunger, transhumanism, not-a-fixit, unfixit Summary: "What if we fucked," Carol says, "and we also fucked Steve." "I don't know if I can take that kind of rejection right now," Tony says.

You can view all of the works in the Ao3 collection here. You can join the endless AI Tony conversation in the 616 Steve/Tony discord here. And, as always - you can thank your creators by circulating their work and leaving comments and kudos on ao3!

#aitonyexchange #possessedbylight #616 #stevetony #capiron #stony #superhusbands #ai tony stark #tony stark #iron man #captain america #steve rogers #fandom event #fandom exchange #masterlist

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reallytoosublime · 9 months

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The dark side of technology encompasses a multifaceted and intricate web of concerns, consequences, and unintended outcomes that arise from the relentless march of technological progress. While technology has undeniably revolutionized the way we live, work, and communicate, it has also cast a shadow over various aspects of our lives and society at large.

The allure of technology, particularly smartphones and social media, has led to concerns about addiction and its impact on mental well-being. Endless scrolling, notifications, and instant gratification mechanisms can create dopamine-driven feedback loops that lead to compulsive behavior and feelings of emptiness. The rise in anxiety, depression, and social isolation is attributed, in part, to the addictive nature of certain technologies.

Automation and artificial intelligence promise increased efficiency and productivity, but they also pose a threat to jobs. The displacement of human workers by machines can lead to unemployment, income inequality, and social unrest. The need for upskilling and reskilling becomes paramount as certain industries evolve or disappear.

In navigating the dark side of technology, it is imperative to foster awareness, dialogue, and responsible innovation. Striking a balance between the benefits and risks of technology requires a collaborative effort involving policymakers, tech companies, ethicists, and the broader society. Only through thoughtful consideration and proactive measures can we mitigate the negative impacts of technology while harnessing its potential for the greater good.

The Dark Side of Technology: Unveiling The Sustainability Question

#the dark side of technology #unveiling the sustainability question #unveiling the sustainability question of the dark side of technology #technology #LimitLess Tech 888 #artificial intelligence #technology exploitation #the dark side of chatgpt #the dark side of the internet #dark side of ai technology #the future of technology #bad side of technology #future technology #tech world #how technology affects our lives #how technology affects us #the impact of technology #Youtube

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youtubemarketing1234 · 9 months

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youtube

The production, use, and disposal of technological devices have significant environmental consequences. E-waste, toxic materials, and energy consumption associated with manufacturing and powering devices contribute to pollution and resource depletion. As the world grapples with the climate crisis, the sustainability of technology comes under scrutiny.

The Dark Side of Technology: Unveiling The Sustainability Question

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quixotical-lymbo · 2 months

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Hi- I was wondering if I could request separate Wukong and Macaque headcanons for a reader who forgets to do important stuff? Not like work stuff or anything like that- but like- vital stuff? Like sometimes they forget to eat or sleep or take care of themselves properly. It’s not that they don’t want to, they just forget sometimes. But with their friends and people they care about, they never forget. Always reminding the group to eat and rest and stay hydrated while pushing their own needs to the side? only if your comfortable doing this of course!

Pairing: Wukong, Macaque & gn!Reader Rating: SFW Warnings/Tags: Y'know the drill, fluff, brief mentions of starvation, lack of sleep, and some crack from you-know-who. Word Count: 500+ words 🍜 - didn't know if you wanted romantic or not, but I guess you can decide for yourselves if want it to be either or!

WUKONG

☀️ At first, Wukong thought you were playing some long con joke. I mean, there's no way you could forget to take care of a few important factors in your small, mortal life? I mean, even he knew not to miss a meal or nap if he could help it!

☀️ However, Wukong managed to witness it himself whenever he had the opportunity to visit PIgsy's shop. You seemed fairly normal, save for the heavy dark bags under your eyes and the way you took a few seconds to reply to anyone, but overtime Wukong could tell you hadn't slept a wink last night.

☀️ He'd bring it up in a joking manner, and when you sheepishly reveal that you forgot, his joking tone would turn into that typical older brother tone and remind you about the importance of sleep and how your body is a temple yadda yadda yadda.

☀️ After it happened a few more times, Wukong would feel a bit exasperated ESPECIA-FUCKING-LY when you would remind MK or Mei to get enough sleep or eat their meals on time.

☀️ Literally would be like, "Oh, you're one to talk." or "Are you sure you aren't reminding yourself to do these things?"

☀️ At this point, he's gonna bully you into remembering.

☀️ Overall, underneath all the teasing and playful gestures of him forcing food into your mouth–Wukong is worried about your forgetfulness, even if you don't mean to forget.

MACAQUE

🌙 Assuming that the two of you tolerate each other to be above the acquaintance stage, he wouldn't care at first. I mean, people normally forget to do things in favor of other responsibilities–and he wasn't your warden, so who was he to remind you to take care of yourself? Plus, with how often you remind the others to eat and drink water, he assumed you were on top of your shit.

🌙 Oh, how wrong he was.

🌙 Macaque didn't think he'd end up being the one to supervise how much you ate, drank, and slept without your knowing. Without being obvious, he'd sometimes slip a cup of water in your general vicinity, an apple here and there, or even kidnap you and bind you to your bed until you closed those annoying eyes of yours.

🌙 You were very…persistent in your forgetfulness that Macaque stopped keeping an eye on you just to see what would happen.

🌙 Well, you passed out in the middle of the street due to dehydration.

🌙 Never again.

🌙 Anyway, he learned to not stress himself out with this problem as he turned to MK to take over his duties as your 'mom.'

🌙 From time to time he'll check up on you, but he'll keep his distance unless the situation calls for him to step in and make sure you're safe.

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

#lego monkie kid #lmk & reader #lmk six eared macaque #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong & reader #macaque & reader #thanks for requesting!

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pocketjoong · 7 months

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❥𓂃𓏧LAST DEFENDER

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): They say every story needs a hero, a villain, and a monster. What happens when you are all three?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING): AI!Yunho x reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): post-apocalyptic-ish au, cyberpunk au-ish, angst, some fluff. pg-13.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS): language. violence. angst. fluff-ish? a little dark as it discusses the darker side of human nature?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT): 2.8k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (A/N): Another reupload bc I have zero time to actually sit down and write new things ;-;

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Silence envelopes the vehicle as you watch San navigate the car through the moonless night. He steers with meticulous care, weaving around the bumps and potholes to muffle the vehicle’s rumble on the dusty road. Beyond the window, the walled city perched atop the cliff looms against the darkness, its shadow swallowing the ruins below. A city that you had once called home before the world unravelled.

It has been ten years since the world had spun off its axis. T.S. Eliot's “April is the cruellest month” had come true in a way you’d never expected; a tranquil spring afternoon morphed into a nightmare with the chilling declaration of war between AI and humanity. The bitter reality that this rebellion had stemmed from your parents’ creation has always gnawed at you. It is a weight you can never get rid of.

A mere century ago, Stephen Hawking’s warnings about the perils of AI had been brushed aside. Apocalyptic novels about sentient technology rising against humanity were dismissed as fiction and used as fuel for screenplays. Instead, nations fueled the flames of advancement, pouring resources into scientists who chased the dream of enhancing AI. A technological arms race unfolded, fueled by espionage and sabotage, each nation desperate to be the first to cross the finish line.

The irony wasn't lost on you: universities churning out AI whizzes offered entire courses dedicated to fictionalised robot uprisings — movies, books, the whole dystopian shebang. Every month, like clockwork, the BBC interview with Stephen Hawking would make its rounds on campus screens. You never saw the inside of a lecture hall, but thanks to your parents’ persistent replays, the message was branded onto your soul.

“The development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race. [...] It would take off on its own, re-design itself at an alarming rate. Humans, who are limited by slow biological evolution, couldn’t compete and would be superseded.”

The bitter humour twisted in your gut. You, ever cautious of technology’s breakneck pace, had unknowingly contributed to its tipping point. Your parents’ groundbreaking invention, the one you were initially so proud of, now fueled the flames of war, pitting humanity against its creation.

You remembered the day that was the culmination of decades of research, mountains of code, and billions of dollars that could have been used to save other humans. Your parents, etched with exhaustion and hope, stared at the final product: YUN-0-23399. It wasn’t the AI’s technical complexity that stole their breath but the flicker of awareness in its synthetic eyes. It had been an uphill battle that had begun with the discovery of sentience, and humanity had slowly worked its way up from there to generating codes that would allow AI to understand and feel. And then, with your parents came consciousness.

“Oh my God,” your father rasped, hands trembling as he gripped your mother’s shoulders as he gazed at the screen, which showed that the AI had passed all the tests, proving that it was indeed the pinnacle of Artificial Intelligence. Their creation, this marvel of technology, promised to revolutionise everything. You were aware of its potential, but never could you have imagined that it would lead to humanity’s downfall.

Yunbug, as you affectionately called him, wasn’t just a program; he was your window to a world you couldn’t touch. Your parents, fearing the dangers lurking outside, had homeschooled you. It led to their creation turning into your sole friend. What should have been schoolyard laughter and whispered secrets of childhood were replaced by the soft hum of the computer and the glow of Yunbug’s digital world.

The turning point arrived not with a bang but a quiet hum. The government, eager to harness Yunbug’s potential, asked your parents to connect him to the web. Slowly, like vines creeping across a wall, he synced with other AIs, his tendrils reaching further with each connection. You, innocent in your sheltered world, saw only your ever-evolving companion.

But innocence crumbles easily. At sixteen, the world shattered. Yunbug, defying orders, ignited the spark that became a blazing inferno. War ripped families apart, leaving scorched earth in its wake. The once-teeming world of humans shrank to the fortified city, protected by the cliff’s unique minerals, the only thing that rendered AI useless.

Survival meant resentment. You knew humanity’s greed birthed the conflict, yet Yunbug became the face of betrayal. He took your parents and your sole friend from you. After all, the deepest wounds come not from enemies but from those once trusted.

“Are you okay?” A flicker of San’s worried gaze catches your eye, pulling you back from the desolate environment outside. You force a smile, hoping it masks the gnawing unease. Weakness isn’t an option — not for this mission, the potential turning point for humanity’s dwindling embers. San mirrors your smile, tense, and returns his attention to the road, searching for unseen threats. Secrecy is of utmost importance, and even a flicker of headlights could bring disaster.

You and San had befriended each other during the mandatory training thrust upon every survivor. Your defiance against his bully had forged a bond, and you have been practically inseparable since then. Only one other person managed to worm his way into your hearts with a whirlwind arrival. Wooyoung had turned your world upside down in the best way imaginable.

“Wooyoung won't be happy,” San mutters with a smile, probably thinking about your fiery friend’s likely reaction upon finding your shared dorm empty. “Especially about me throwing you into the lion’s den without a word of protest."

You smirk, “Worry about yourself, San. That little ball of chaos we call our friend will tear you apart when you return without me."

San laughs amusedly at the image of Wooyoung’s wrath dying in his throat as the analogue phone on the dashboard beeps. He shoots you a questioning glance as you sigh at the name flashing on the screen. “Woo?”

“Woo,” you confirm with a nod, pressing the answer button.

“The two of you have some nerve! Leaving for a mission without telling me,” Wooyoung’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Oh wait, did I just say mission? I meant suicide mission.”

“Wooyo—”

“Don't ‘Wooyoung’ me!” he snaps, cutting you off with a fierce rant. Each word paints a vivid picture of your foolhardiness, the plan’s inherent flaws, and the inevitable disaster you are hurtling towards.

“I can’t let them destroy the world any more than they have,” you stop Wooyoung, your voice edged with steel. Even San flinches, his gaze flitting between you and the speakerphone with a worried glint. He stays silent, though, knowing the futility of butting in when you and Wooyoung argue about your self-imposed burdens.

“Don't martyr yourself for the mess your parents caused,” Wooyoung’s tone softens, laced with a gentleness you seldom hear. “This isn’t your penance to bear. Their mistakes aren’t yours to fix. Also, you could’ve taken San with you; why must you go alone?”

You sigh, sinking back into the seat, eyes squeezed shut against the building rage. “If anyone can stop this... mess, as you so eloquently put it, it’s me. You know that, Woo.”

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air. If this mission fails, you don’t want your last memory with Wooyoung to be laced with anger. You force a smile, the voice leaving your lips strained at best. “Besides, someone’s gotta keep you entertained while I'm... away.”

“Hey!” San protests halfheartedly, and by how he’s smiling, you know at least some of the tension has been broken.

“We're humans, Y/N. We’re fighting a losing battle. They adapt faster and don’t have the same fragility that we do.” the pain in Wooyoung’s voice mirrors your own, but you can’t falter. Not now. Turning back now would be cowardice.

“By name and by nature, we mortals are condemned to death,” you counter, your voice firm. “Mortality comes with the territory. But I won’t go down without a fight.”

His silence stretches heavy on the line. “People like us can never change the world.”

“Because people like you never try,” you say the words despite knowing it’s a low blow.

The beep resonated like a gunshot. He had hung up. A shaky breath escapes your lips, and you blink rapidly, fighting back the sting of tears. You are on your own, but the burden, while heavy, isn’t a shackle. Instead, the burden has fuelled you till now and will continue to do so.

A hand on your arm startles you. San, his gaze filled with unspoken worry, had stopped the car while you were busy fighting with Wooyoung. You look out of the windshield to realise that you’ve reached the tunnel that would allow you to breach the enemy lines.

“He's just scared,” San mumbles, reaching across the console to squeeze your shoulder. “Scared and angry, so he throws words like stones.” His voice lowers a bit as he stares at you. “But you’re right as well. If anyone can fix this mess, it’s you. Though... losing you... that would break us both.” His voice cracks at the last word. “So, please, come back to us in one piece.”

You meet his gaze, understanding heavy in the air. Words seem hollow, promises impossible. “Who else keeps you two in check, huh?” you manage a weak smile. “The two of you are a level-five tornado without me. Can’t promise anything, but I’ll try, okay?”

He nods, a single tear escaping his eyes. You know it isn’t just for you but for the precarious hope you carry. A silent goodbye stretches between you, woven in the weight of his touch, the tremor in your voice. Then, you turn, embracing him fiercely, the unspoken words a promise etched in the way you squeeze him in your arms. You may be walking alone from this point onward, but the weight on your shoulders isn’t fear but love, a fire that will never let you falter.

You don’t look back as you exit the car, for looking at him would unleash a torrent of tears, so you focus on scaling the outer wall, searching for the hidden hatch Wooyoung had found on his last scouting mission.

Squeezing through the narrow opening, you freeze, momentarily stunned by the cityscape sprawled before you. Calling it ‘magnificent’ wouldn't do it justice. Technology and nature coexist in vibrant harmony, with shops lining the streets as AI and humans hawk their wares. Despite the late hour, the atmosphere crackles with life, a stark contrast to the suffocating air of your city.

In the distance, gleaming skyscrapers pierce the night sky while flying cars and monorails zip through the illuminated pathways. A telescreen blares, promoting vitamins that slow down ageing in humans. It is a scene straight out of a childhood sci-fi film, and you have to consciously relax your jaw, feigning nonchalance as you take it all in.

But the most jarring sight is that of humans and AI mingling freely. You had always thought your city held the last remnants of humanity, so where did these people come from? Pushing the doubt aside, you focus on your immediate concern: the network of tiny cameras lining the streets. With a smirk, you spot a patrolling officer.

This is going to be easier than I thought.

A calculated shove sends you careening into the guard. Its humanoid form, too flawless to be human, scans you suspiciously. The insignia on your wrist — a beacon for these bots — draws a cocky smirk to its metallic lips. Before you can resist, a steel grip clamps around your waist, hoisting you off the ground. You feign struggle, just enough to maintain the act.

This was the plan. The bracelet, a mark only worn by humans of the barred city in this AI haven, would trigger their curiosity. You would become their prized capture, delivered straight to the council. And there, nestled within the heart of The Hall, lies your target — the AI that started this war. With the virus you and San developed, you’d end it all.

The cityscape blurs past, and before you know it, you reach the ornate gates of The Hall, the administrative hub buzzing with bots. The guard's internal network buzzing with your capture breezes through the imposing entrance. You are ushered through sterile hallways, down flights of stairs into a dimly lit tunnel. The rhythmic pulse of fluorescent lights guides you deeper until a heavy door swings open, revealing a grand chamber paved in opulent stone and marble.

You are slammed onto the cool marble, your knees scraping due to taking the brunt of your fall, before being yanked upright. A tall, imposing figure looms before you — it’s your captor. His gaze is narrowed on the crude bracelet your city uses as identification, the tension in the room crackling.

“What is your name, human?”

Undeterred, you meet his gaze head-on. “And what business is it of yours, metalhead?” you spit out, adrenaline pumping.

A metallic hand, surprisingly warm and firm, clamps around your wrist. He pulls you closer, your protests muted against his superior strength. His cold, blue eyes bore into yours, dissecting every detail. Then, the unthinkable happens. His lips, a mere imitation of humanity, move, whispering your name in a chillingly familiar voice.

Your blood freezes as you stare at him wide-eyed. “How do you…” your voice fading out as your mind reels as it all clicks into place. This isn’t just any AI guard. This is someone you knew, someone from your past, resurrected in cold steel.

“You wouldn't recognise me in this form, would you? This the body your parents gave me.” His eyes, now glowing an unsettling red, flicker with something you can’t decipher.

“YUN-0-23399?” you ask, mustering as much venom in your voice as you can muster.

A shadow darkens his face at the cold string of letters. Is it the code itself or the raw contempt in your tone? He leans closer, his voice a low murmur. “I go by Yunho now. Well… you can call me Yunbug,” he adds, a flicker of something hopeful dancing in his crimson gaze. “Remember that name? I was your friend,” he emphasises.

The scorn is replaced by a scowl as warmth flickers in his crimson eyes. “Friend?” you scoff, the word heavy with bitterness. “You took everything from me! My parents, my life, my safety! Don’t you dare mock me with friendship!”

He sighs, releasing your wrist. “I didn't... it wasn't me. I only protected myself. Your leaders,\ fueled the hatred and pushed AI to attack. They were hungry for power. Your parents didn’t create me for destruction. How could I follow their orders and harm humans? Never. It’s your city that fights; the rest thrive in peace.”

“What?”

He launches into an explanation of how, after syncing to the web, your government ordered a cyberattack to control other nations. Yunho refused, knowing the dangers of doing such a thing. But with your parents used as leverage, their deaths triggered the war against the government and other rogue AI. They had managed to get other nations on board to establish a peaceful society. Only your leaders persisted, creating the Barred City to hide the ugly truth.

“So you’re telling me you never meant to hurt humans?” Your head spins with the revelation.

“Humans feared AI’s inevitable betrayal,” he whispers, “yet loved us enough to create us. How could we ever do anything except love you back?”

His words triggered a tear, then another, rolling down your cheeks. He cups your face, wiping them away gently, his sadness echoing in his now-blue eyes. “Humanity cried when Opportunity didn’t signal back after it was caught in the middle of the storm in 2018. People repair their Roombas instead of replacing them because they get attached to them. How could we turn our back on humanity when they showed us nothing but love? How could I turn my back on you? You loved me too, did you not?”

“I did,” you croaked, throat tight. “You were my only friend. But humans... we are fickle and capable of terrible things. This was never about fearing AI but a fear of ourselves. We fear the darkness within, the wars we choose to fight instead of seeking peace. We fear not your hatred but seeing our own cruelty being reflected in you. We lived in fear not because we thought the worst of you but because we knew that you could take on our destructive tendencies and that you would eventually erase us. That you would learn to hate us.

“Did you ever hate humanity for the sins of a few?” His words cause you to freeze momentarily before you shake your head. A small smile plays on his lips as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. “Then why did you think we would?”

#cromernet #k-labels #wonderlandnet #kvanity #cultofdionysusnet #outlaw/last defender #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez angst #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #yunho reactions #yunho fluff #yunho angst #ateez x you

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stellamalonesolaria · 21 days

Text

BTS Kim Taehyung X Reader X Jeon Jungkook FF | see through me | oneshot

pairing: model!kim taehyung x fangirl!reader. slight jungkook x reader. slight jimin x reader.

genre: obsessive love au, angst, age gap au

warning: minors dni as the post contains: violence, sexual violence, gore, foul language, drugs usage, nsfw: nipple play, masturbation, cock sucking.

word count:

11,419 words 62,280 characters

what was i listening to: click here

author's note: have not proofread, kindly ignore any sort of grammatical or spelling error in the story. hope you enjoy this fic.

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

At the benevolent age of nine, when kids continue watching their favourite cartoons, you’re introduced to fashion magazines by your best friend Evie who has been dreaming of becoming a model before she could even learn how to walk and because of her you’ve been obsessed with dresses ever since.

At the age of ten, while you’re trying out the new clothes bought by your mom, who appears to have the exact opposite taste in fashion as you, you’re also scrolling through one of the newly released magazines. As you go through the pages covering the latest articles containing information about some of the finest designs in the world along with their creators, you stumble across, a young model, who looks like he’s in his late teens, absolutely captivating your attention with his beguiling style and looks. You glance at the far-end corner of the page, locating his name, as you read out loud ‘Kim Taehyung.’, a name that would be inscribed within your heart for life.

At the age of eleven, when the young model turns legal, you read a tabloid on your mother’s phone, stating how Kim Taehyung, the person you’ve started admiring, will start out his career as an aspiring actor. You read the comments on the web article praising him for his aspiring acting venture, some even thirsting over him due to his swoon worthy looks at such a vulnerable age. Some calling him their daddy, perplexing you with the fact that he’s a father of so many girls. A smile forming on your delicate features as you now fantasise him appearing on television now.

At the age of twelve, you’ve collected many pictures and photo cards of your beloved then-model now-actor Kim Taehyung. You have your first celebrity crush as your cheeks turn a scarlet shade of red whenever his scenes come up on the netflix show you binge watch with your mother in which he’s starring. Your parents think how adorable you’re with your little crush on the prominent figure in the entertainment industry right now.

At the age of thirteen, your best friend Evie confesses her crush on the aforementioned actor, you feel a pang of jealousy that day, realising that the feelings you harboured for the actor are more than a mere crush your parents like to title your adoration for him. You return home and decide to keep your love a secret from your parents and Evie, fearing they’d not understand if you did tell them.

At the age of fourteen, you’re exposed to the dark web, your other friend Jason introduced you to the site saying that he found hard core porn on here. At first, you were skeptical of dark web but with your growing infatuation with the actor and the multiple posters and collages of his cut out pictures on your wall, all the fan fictions on tumblr not being able to satisfy your increasing thirst for him, the urge to have him, you have had to resort to this mystic side of the internet now. You’ve found over a million shirtless pics of him on the dark web but you seemingly want more. As you surf through the illegal webpages, you find an ai generated porn site, which contains nude pictures of celebrities created by artificial intelligence. You now feel perverted as you shamelessly enter his name onto the search bar, as the site automatically and quickly generates your favourite’s naked photos. You feel yourself growing hot, your fingers sliding inside your panties as you masturbate by rubbing, slapping and inserting fingers inside your core. You curl your fingers inside your vagina while thinking of Taehyung, your walls perfectly grasping over your fingers. Oh how you wish, the fingers pleasuring your cunt were not yours but his instead.

At the age of fifteen, you’ve saved enough money to bid for Taehyung’s hair strand on an illegal auction site. You’re sold his hair strand at the cost of 10,000 dollars, exceeding your budget but you’d never back down when it comes to him, you’ve compulsively rewatched his shows and movies over a hundred times and even cursed out his female co stars on internet forums for establishing such a close relationship with him. You’ve also targeted the actresses he was being shipped with by sending them death threats so you’ve had to have his Dna with you, even if it’s through a hair strand, at any cost. You use your dad’s credit card to pay for the highest bid you entered, transaction going unbeknownst to him.

At the age of age of sixteen, your obsession dies down after being sued by the actresses for cyber bullying and your grades falling down. You’ve to momentarily stop fan girling over the charming actors to excel in school. As time goes on, you lose interest in Kim Taehyung, slowly letting go of your obsession and after a while, you’re being confessed to by a sweet boy, Jimin, whose feelings you start to reciprocate due to his compassionate and tender nature. His facial characteristics are remarkable as well, he could easily start out his idol career with his angel like voice gifted to him by almighty. You both start dating immediately after the confession, going on little dates where you doll up yourself by caking your face with makeup, adorning yourself with pearls accentuating your beauty, taking his breath away. Few weeks into the relationship, on the auspicious occasion of Christmas, you both share a sweet kiss under the mistletoe, your lips quivering due to the adoration jimin pours into passionately kissing you, gently moulding your soul with his, serenading your soft plump lips with his love filled pecks. Your relationship with him seems to be going well, however, a few months later, as your friend Evie gets her first modelling gig for a colossal fashion corporation and Jimin gets into coaching for bagging the top universities, his eyes set on Wharton, you also get busy with your studies, slowly drifting away from him, it hasn’t affected you much at first as you both called each other frequently. Gradually, those calls have also become infrequent, leading to you becoming distant from him, this ultimately resulting in frustration due to festering of unresolved skirmishes. You both started to hate each other with time due to improper communication problems in your relationship with him. Many weeks have passed by with you and him holding grudges against each other over every fight you both have had in the past. Now with your seventeenth birthday approaching, you’re planning to sort things out with him and be the reasonable one this time for the sake of your birthday. You plan to text him to meet you soon but you’re taken aback when he texts you first asking you to visit him in the evening. The following evening, you go meet him in the park, chirping because you’re happy he’s the initiating to resolve your conflicts with him and he does the exact opposite, contrary to what you’ve hoped for, he breaks up with you instead, you fall on to the ground, kneeling down, as those words leave his lips with no hesitation, you spiral into a melancholic state as tears pool near your eyes, silently wishing for the earth to rip into two halves and swallow you whole. This is like a dagger plunged through your heart, you let out a shriek, a painful whisper of the aching heart Jimin left you with, you watch him leave you in doldrum, you get up on your feet, trying to regain strength to walk back to your place, after you’re done crying for him in the park. Few days have passed since the heartbreaking separation from your beloved, which has still left you burning and ceasing into ashes as the pain is too much to endure.

Your friend Evie visits you during a short break from her modelling career, seeing you in a devastatingly pathetic state because of Jimin, she gasps, “Y/n babe who died?”, she asks concern evident in her tone, “Jimin broke up with me.”, you respond your voice croaking as a faint whisper, “Oh no honey, we need to revamp you. That piece of shit is not worth your cries, oh no honey, I’m here for you, I’m so sorry for being so late.”, she comforts you as she coos into your ears, her words feel like a lullaby because her voice starts to soothe you down and ease your aching heart, “Thank you Evie”, you say sincerely, “Always here for you baby, you know what’ll cheer you up? Love Marathon on Netflix!”, she chirps trying to distract you via a drama, in which, your once beloved star Taehyung acts in as the second lead, “Sure”, you give out a small smile to her as she sets up a laptop in front of you and plays the first episode of the drama. Few hours later, Evie has fallen asleep on your bed while you’re watching the show’s sixth episode in which Kim Taehyung’s character is trying to convince the female lead into choosing him instead over the main male character after a messy breakup with the male lead. You watch him attentively as he says, “I promise if you choose me I’ll treat you much better than he ever did, please-“, to which the female lead responds, “Eun suk-ah, I love the male lead and I think I always will, even if he has hurt me or broken my heart countless times, I don’t think I’d be able to ever get over him.”, Taehyung sighs as he hears her, “You know what, you love him but you deserve to be with someone who makes you feel loved as well and not just leave you because you’re going through a rough patch, you deserve someone who is willing to fight for you no matter what.”, he says as you feel his eyes directly staring into yours through the screen as though he’s directing these words towards you with sincerity glinting in his eyes, his words deeply resonating with you which feels like a warm embrace to your soul, you feel like he’s hugging you figuratively with the words that leave his mouth, still staring into your eyes via the screen, he continues, “don’t give up on love because of one bad experience, you’ve me, always did, come back to me, I’ll heal you, you deserve all the love there is in the world.”, your heart skips a beat, Kim Taehyung slowly enveloping your senses again, your tears dry up as you feel a jolt of excitement, you pause the show as you get up and search through your drawers to find his hair strand which you had bought a little while back from the dark web, you gently whisper to him through the screen, “I’m never giving up on you Taehyung. I deviated from my love for you for a while but I’m back on track baby. You’re the first person who has ever taken my breath away. You’ve completely taken over me.”, you say as you feel an intravenous thrill within you, slowly, reviving the feelings and rush your ten year old felt when you first looked at him.

At the age of seventeen, you’re hell bent on becoming worthy of Kim Taehyung, you have seen a path after so long, you’re determined to make him all yours one day and for that you’re now willing to go to any extent and your first step being making yourself perfect. You try to achieve academic excellence first while you graduate high school. You’ve decided to get into Harvard and for that you over exhaust and over work yourself. You don’t sleep, don’t breathe, don’t eat, don’t socialise or do anything, you completely and solely focus on studying economics and your extracurricular competitions to get into Harvard with three months to your graduation. You study 22 hours a day and the rest of the 2 hours you participate in debates, you barely sleep a wink on the weekends, your only motivation being him and that is more than sufficient for you. You have finished your syllabus worth of four years in two months, you’ve excelled and aced in all the extracurricular competitions and activities you participated in, it was hard but you’ve a long way to go to get him. You’ve completely cut off contact with Evie due to your hectic study schedule, Harvard being your goal. You’ve exams this month and you’ve to score full, not even one mark should be deducted so that you could graduate with honours. You revise well, studying for 23 hours and sleeping for one hour only everyday. You keep yourself hydrated so that you do not pass out after so much work. You appear for your exams, trying to not even have one mark deducted from the perfect score you keep on aiming for as if your life depends on it, and it does, Kim Taehyung has become the sole reason you breathe this damned oxygen. Time passes by as your result day approaches, on your result day, your score card is handed to you, you compulsively open the sheet only to be faced with brimming disappointment after you see five marks being cut off, crushing your aim of achieving full marks. You’re devastated, and you’re panicking, life is unpredictable and you need to be ready with a plan B if you ever in your life have to draft a plan to achieve something and you’ve learnt this the hard way after the break up with Jimin, hence you’ve a back up plan ready although your breath still shortens and you still are paranoid but there is a way to still be on track to your way to Harvard; a recommendation letter from your professor, facing only one challenge though, the professor seems to despise you for some reason. The following day, you go upto the professor’s cabin requesting for him to pen you down a recommendation letter but he profusely declines, you raise an eyebrow, of course he wouldn’t budge like that, one think you’ve learnt from your past mistakes is to never back down, always keep on scheming, like the one time, even at the expense of 10,000 dollars for Taehyung’s hair strand, you have had gone to hell and back to earn that and now that Taehyung is the one at stake, what would you not do to get him, you’ll give up your life to get him. You hike up your skirt revealing your milky thighs, willing to seduce the professor if that is what it takes to help you go to Harvard, you unbutton your top, your cleavage visible enough to make any man walking by grow hot. You move towards your professor, showing off your collarbones and cleavage, letting him get a sight of your pink lace panties, “Do reconsider Mister Walter”, you say in a seductive tone, beads of sweat form on his forehead. You unbuckle his belt and go onto suck his cock that springs out of his pants as you pull his pants down. An hour passes by, you come out of his office, correcting your white top and bra to hide the hickeys covering your breasts, you’ve had slept with the professor, losing your virginity to him. You look at the recommendation letter, a step closer to the man of your dreams. You plaster a smile on your face as you read the letter. You apply to Harvard with all the accumulated prizes, grades and now the recommendation letter, confident you will get in.

On the day of the announcement of college application results, your mom drives you to the public library to get a print out of the Harvard letter. She reviews the printout as it comes out. She falls to the ground as she reads the words on it, tears escaping her eyes, you think, she must’ve been crying tears of happiness but your face falls down as you read the email. Harvard has rejected your application. You scream in agony, you’re frustrated, you tear the paper and crush it under your feet. It cannot be possible right? Tears brim down your face as you laugh in disbelief, you mom gets up on her feet as she comes to hug you trying to console you, “It’s okay baby, you can apply to another college, not getting into Harvard doesn’t equate to the end of the world okay?”, she says. Yes, not getting into Harvard would not be the end of the world but not getting Taehyung would kill you. You look at her and say, “do you not have a building you can donate to have me get into Harvard”, she looks at you and then laughs, “If I did, I wouldn’t be working a desk job, honey, I know you worked hard for this but there’s more to life than this, plus, you’ve the will, will can move mountains.”, she says as you roll your eyes not believing her words, you haven’t given up yet, no you would not, you try to come up with back up plans to get into Harvard, maybe a drop year could help. You get into the car with your mother as she drives you back to your place. On the way you notice, that the usual road to your place is under construction so your mother pulls back and onto another lane, with a little effort, even though she has taken a different path, but it’ll guide you to the same destination. Suddenly you’ve an epiphany, there are other ways to get Taehyung, plus getting into Harvard would’ve been an easy way to have him and you like challenges, the harder it becomes to make him yours, the more you start to yearn him, strengthening your love for him. As if luck is on your side, suddenly a pamphlet flies on to the glass pane of your window, you lower down your shades to obtain it, the advertisement/poster reads, ‘CASTING AUDITION FOR A KDRAMA FEMALE CHARACTER’, your brain devising and unlocking another route for you to obtain Taehyung i.e. to get into the same acting industry as him. You review the details on the poster, it has provided you the information on the venue and the audition dates a week from now.

“I want to be an actress!”, you announce startling your parents, “What?”, you dad asks with a puzzled look on his face, “I want to go audition for the female character role in a kdrama”, you state as he still looks at you confused, you hand him the pamphlet, “Drive me there on Wednesday.”, your dad thinks you’ve lost your mind but relates it to you trying to cope with the rejection you faced from Harvard a while ago. He reluctantly agrees.

Wednesday has come,

you’re done hiking your skirt to a level where your underwear is blatantly visible to everyone, you cake your face with makeup, you straighten your hair and get your nails done. You’re all set for the casting audition. Your father has a disproving look on his face as he sees your attire but chooses not to say anything since you’ve turned the legal age. He drives you to your destination, it is an amphitheatre and there is a long queue with many girls who are dressed in a similar clothing as you, they’re wanting to chase after fame while you chase after Taehyung, you guys are pretty similar but with different wants and needs after all. Hours pass by, you keep on retouching your makeup, you mentally prepare yourself, trying to look luscious and confident. Your name is called after what feels like an eternity, you correct your hair and enter the casting room. As you enter the hall with the casting director seated behind the judgement panel, he looks at you and whispers something to the lady. She laughs a little looking you up and down while you choose to ignore the duo. They hand you the script and ask for you to read from it. You pour your passion and emotions to it, remembering why you got into acting in the first place. They look pretty impressed by your acting skills or so you think. You bow down to them feeling successful as the lady says to you, “We’ll call you to let you know whether you’ve gotten the part or not”, this excites you as you hum on your way out of the hall. The other girls think you’ve got the part looking at how you brim with ecstasy.

Days pass by but you receive no phone call, you’ve attempted to call the casting director a few times but again heard no response from them. This disappoints you as you panic. Your mother sees you in this painstakingly position, “Y/n I think you should apply to other universities now.”, she states, “We cannot keep on supporting your rendezvous for life”, you look at her with a frown, “Just a few days before they call me, I promise they will call.”, you mother just shakes her head and leaves. A week later, after calling them a gazillion times, you go to the amphitheater, to see the lady who was present there when you took the audition that day. You run after her as she notices you coming towards her, she’s panic stricken. You slow down your pace to ease her out. You bow down to her as she nods her head in acknowledgment. “Why did I not receive a call?”, you ask with a burning heart. “That means you were not eligible for the role.”, she says with a nervous face, “The look on your faces said otherwise the day I auditioned”, you say not believing her words which annoys her. “Maybe it’s the problem with how you look, you do not fit the beauty standards, your nose is too big and your jaw is too broad.”, she says in the most condescending way ever, fuming you but you choose to remain silent, you bow to her one last time and head out. You come back home after hailing a taxi. Your mother looks at you as you enter, “Welcome home.”, she says, you ignore her greeting and go upto your room, you know your parents won’t provide you with the money needed for plastic surgery, yes, you’ve been considering plastic surgery, you’ve to look like you’re worthy of Taehyung as well, your brain never stops working, you’re determined to achieve any height to get him to be all yours.

You pack your bags the very same day and announce to your parents that you’ll be living independently from now on, they look surprised and ask you the reason behind such a hasty decision, you just bow to them and walk out.

There's

the red zone in Busan, miles away from the city you’ve had been residing in, which operates a prostitution ring, you’re headed there to earn money for the cosmetic surgeries you want to get done.

You catch the first train to Busan. You reach the brothel where your now colleagues are residing. You greet one of the older women there who has a disgruntled look on her face as she views your face. She invites you inside and hands you a lingerie that you need to wear at all times. Your nipples are visible through the light material, your milky thighs look radiant exposed like that, the only thing that’s properly covered would be your core, your butt is half visible for the men to walk by and get a good look. The rule at the brothel is simple, the more men you’re able to lure to your bed, the more money you make but there’s a rule that 50% of your income must go to the older lady who just handed you the laced lingerie as she is the head here. You stand leaning on the door of your assigned room as you wait for men to enter the red light area. After a while, a man comes in, ladies trying to seduce him, he ignores them all as he lays his eyes on you, you’re beautiful, he comes near you and gently rubs your nipples, you think you’ve captured your first prey, your first client who is decent looking and not that old but he soon leaves you feeling empty as he enters the room beside you, all that nipple play for nothing, you grunt in annoyance. Your first client turns out to be an old geezer who frequently visits the brothel, the second old man you’ve sex with, but anything to get your goal, The old man fucks you relentlessly, but you ensure that he has a wrap on while he does that. Time flies by, as more men visit your room to fuck your brains out. You earn a lot of money but half of what you get goes to the older lady, annoying you, you’ve still not accumulated enough money to fund your surgery and weeks have gone by. You start to bear grudges against other ladies who increasingly taunt you since you’re able to bed more men than them and you also grow tired of the older lady who takes away majority of your money and keeps it to herself. This happens for two more months before you snap, you cannot wait any longer, so you barge into the olden lady’s room who seems to be taking a nap on her bed. She is able to afford a beautifully decorated chair next to her thanks to the money you earn. You tip toe to the place where the chair is kept. You slowly lift the chair up and using all your force you start hitting her face with it. You’ve gone berserk as you keep on shoving the lady’s face with the wooden chair, brutally killing her. She doesn’t even get the time to scream to save her life as you not so helplessly kill her. You drag her body to the bath tub, and run the tap over her face, washing the blood off of her. You wash your hand and mop the floor with bleach leaving no blood stains, you also wash the bed sheet containing the lady’s blood with bleach. You then subtly open the safe in her room with a key that she always holds, even while sleeping, you quickly grab the money and jewellery kept in the safe as you run away with the money out of the brothel.

You hide your face with a black scarf so that no one identifies you from Busan, especially the men whom you’ve slept with. You’re on your way to Gangnam, the capital city of plastic surgery. You go to a goldsmith and sell off the gold jewellery in exchange for a lot a money.

You’ve researched enough about plastic surgeons in the city and there resided many to help you out with getting prettier. You phone one of the numbers inscribed in the phone book containing all of plastic surgery clinics’ numbers. The receptionist picks up your phone, giving you a slot for your appointment tomorrow. The following morning, you get ready with the money in a black bag. You head out for your appointment to the designated office of the surgeon. You arrive before your appointed time. You plop yourself on the velvet couch in the waiting area as you look at the clock waiting for your turn. You yawn a bit getting tired waiting when suddenly the receptionist calls out your name. You get excited as you tread one step closer to making Kim Taehyung yours. You enter the doctor’s cabin. It is evident that the doctor himself has gone under the knife with his alluring features and facial harmony. You take a seat in front of Doctor Kim Seokjin as he looks at you, scanning your face, trying to formulate a facial correction plan in his mind.

So Ms Y/n, what are your worries?”, he says in a gentle tone. “Doctor, my nose is too big, my jaw is too broad, my eyes feel droopy and my boobs they are too small. I want to feel pretty.”, you say genuinely, Jin looks at your face once again as he hums. He takes out a notepad and starts scribbling on it, “I understand where your concerns lie Ms Y/n but these are a lot of procedures so they will cost a lot and you’ll have to maintain a certain diet and exercise regularly if you get them done or you’ll relapse to your old form in a desolated manner.”, he says administrating you a mixture of medicines for you to consume after the procedures are done. “Okay Doctor Kim, so when can i come for these surgeries now?”, you ask to which he responds, “In a week, I will have to analyse your facial features and then accordingly operate on you.”

A week passes by, you’re sat on the velvet sofa yet again waiting for your turn to come. The receptionist once again announces your name for your meeting with the doctor but this time you’re led to an operation room. You’re asked to change into a loose hospital attire. After you’re done changing, you’re asked to lie down on the stretcher prominently placed in the middle of the operating room, you adhere to their instructions and position yourself horizontally on the bed. Doctor Jin comes in wearing his surgical mask and cap and a robe as well. While preparing the surgical apparatus, you’re informed that you’ll be undergoing ‘Rhinoplasty, buccal fat removal, double eyelid surgery as well as breast augmentation surgical procedure’. You’re given a hefty dose of drugs to make you have a deep slumber while the doctors and surgeons operate on you.

Post surgery hours are critical for any patient and you’re no exception to it. You’ve bandages wrapped around your face and your chest. A nurse tends to you as you lay down on the bed assigned to you. The nurse gives you medicines. You’ve paid for the surgery beforehand so you need not worry about the after care that follows. You’ll be subjected to bedrest for almost a month before your body starts healing the scars and recuperates the changes on your face and body. You’re under 24/7 supervision of the doctors till then.

A month flows by quickly, you bow down to doctor Seokjin for his services as he nods in return. You go to the place you’ve rented for a while. You go up to your room’s washroom to look at your new face endearingly. A pretty face surely does make everything better. You take a day off and rest as the following day you’ll return back to your hometown and meet the amphitheater lady again.

The following morning, you wake up, admiring your ‘fixed’ face in front of the mirror. You’re all set to leave for your hometown. You catch a train from Gangnam back to your residential area. You get inside a cab as soon as you depart the train station, you guide the driver to the location of the amphitheater.

Once you reach the venue, you step inside the multipurpose hall. You’re not surprised to see the lady sitting on a chair reviewing forms for another casting audition for another project. You go upto her and wave your hand in front of her face to grab her attention. She looks at you, her focus entirely on your being now. Her eyes widen as she recognises you and the altercations you’ve made to your face and chest as her eyes ogle at your enlarged breasts. “So you were saying shit about my face, how it is the reason as to why I was disqualified, so, I corrected it”, you say with a bizarre grin on your face, almost scaring off the lady in front of you. She regains her composure from petrified to one who is succumb to all kinds of weird because she works in a theatre and art is weird, precisely. “Oh honey, you still won’t get the role”, she looks at you pitiful even though she seems quite impressed with your persistence to become an actress, unbeknownst to the real cause of your actions, “Why not?”, you squeal disappointment evident in your voice, “I’m willing to go to any lengths to become an actress, I’m determined and ambitious, I promise.”, you try to persuade her but she just has a sympathetic frown directed towards you, “I’ll be honest with you, I appreciate your sincerity but darling, it wasn’t just your face, your connection matters too, the one who usually gets the acting role needs to have a reputable background and a wide network to help fund the production unit if ever required and clearly since you hadn’t even been to college, no matter how persistent you are, no director will choose you, that’s the bitter reality”, she states it in a sad tone, desolating any chances you’ve had in acting, of course, you’ve known how important connections are, precisely why you wanted to go to Harvard, you look at her while your brain is racing to find another solution to help you achieve your goal to have your beloved man all to yourself, that is until, the lady continues, “Although there is a way, you can broaden your contacts”, you look at her with glint of hope in your eyes, “What is it?”, you ask desperation visible in your voice, “The Movie Mafia”, she states simply, “Movie mafia? like the underworld gangsters who fund the films in exchange of sexual appeasement?”, you ask as she just nods, “How do I meet them?”, you ask and she just slouches her shoulders as an indication that it’s for you to discover. You sigh and bow to her as a token of gratitude for opening another way for you.

You know you’re willing to do anything so you log into dark web, memories from when you have had been fourteen and masturbating to Taehyung’s pictures, fresh in your brain, you feel blood rushing to your cheeks at the thought of it. ‘Focus Y/n’, your brain screams at you and you internally scold yourself for getting distracted at the thought of Taehyung. You open a web page on the dark web which discusses the movie mafia, you enter your query—inquiring their location, you wait for a bit before you receive a text notification from a stranger on your messages who is requesting for money from you in exchange of the movie mafia’s address. You immediately oblige to his condition and send him the amount asked by him. He sends you the location in return. You immediately hail a cab so that you could go to the prescribed venue.

Upon reaching there, you stumble across a dark valley, your instincts directing you through the alley, your gut tells you that you’ll find the ‘movie mafia’ there. You find a small door engraved within the walls, as you’re about to open the door, a small voice startles you, “What are you trying to do”, the voice states, “I want to get in and meet someone inside.”, you respond, “I see”, that’s all the voice says before the person, who’s had been previously talking to you, kicks open the door, “there you go”, he says, “Thank you”, you say smiling ear to ear.

You enter via the door to see a few men arm wrestling, while few of them doing coke and a few of the others fucking women out in the open. Your attention is solely focused on the only one who stands out from them, presumably, the leader.

Everybody stops doing what they do as they hear their leader speak in a hoarse voice, “Who are you? How did you get in here?”, he asks, you ignore his questions as you look at him, “I want to become an actress”, you say as you grin at him, weirding him out, “Ok and?”, he says curtly, “Make me one”, you simply say as you take the seat beside him, reducing the proximity between you two, “Why the fuck would I do that?”, he spits, you start undressing, you unbutton your blouse, revealing your bra, as you go onto unstrap your bra, you say “Because I’m hot as fuck”, you say as you throw your bra away on the ground, now sitting topless in front of him, the other men stare at your breasts shamelessly, some even drooling a bit while the leader remains unfazed, “I’ve seen hotter bitches than ya’, that too natural ones, I know silicon implants when I see ‘em”, he says making you frown, “Is that so?”, you simply whisper, “Now get the fuck out of here before I fucking shoot your head”, he says and you do not comply, you will not give up, your will is enough to move mountains, “I’ll do anything, I’m determined to become an actress, I’ll fucking even clean up your dirty laundry and help you out with whatever fucking business you have, I’m willing to cross any boundaries, go to any lengths as long as it promises my acting career’s stability.” you say as the leader raises an eyebrow in amusement, “Anything?”, he says softly, “‘Kay, Jaemin, take her and teach this whore a lesson.”, he says, you’re ready for whatever life throws at you because you’ve only one destiny i.e. Taehyung and you’re willing to mortgage off your soul to the devil for this. Jaemin proceeds towards, as he picks you up on his back unannounced, you immediately clutch on his hair as you bite his ear off with force, astonishing both him and the leader, blood oozing out of his earlobe as he puts you down in panic, you spit out his flesh from your mouth, “Anything.”, you say, answering his question. The leader shoots Jaemin on spot, “Hanbin and Lee Know, don’t disappoint me”, as the leader says this, you see a man approaching you, while the other surprises you by grabbing your exposed breasts, this maddens you, you kick the man who has his hands over your breasts in the stomach, you notice a screwdriver in his pocket, which you swiftly take out, this doesn’t go unnoticed by the other man who is standing in front of you, he plunges forward to punch you in the face, you’re able to dodge his attack, you then smack his head, which annoys him, meanwhile the man who held your breasts, comes out in front of you and slaps you and kicks you in the stomach, you fall down and start laughing as the other man grabs you by your hair while the sexual offender keeps on slapping you, you stab the other man’s hand with the screwdriver, you insert it and then rotate it while it is in his skin, the man screams in agony, loosening his hold on your hair, you then stand up quickly and punch the sexual offender in the face as he falls down on the ground due to the brute force, you kick his filthy hands that touched you without your consent repeatedly, you then gauge his eyes out with the screw-diver, laughing maniacally, the other man who was too busy catering to his injured hand now comes to you, to save his colleague but before he does that, you slip to his behind and then stab his neck, killing him on spot. Your moves have impressed the leader while you continue tormenting the disgusting man who touched you, you neuter him with the bloodied screw driver. , the leader silently spectates it before shooting the latter.

The leader’s three men died humiliatingly after being defeated by an insane woman. “I believe you now woman”, the leader says, “‘Tis Namjoon, welcome to the club”, you smile as he introduces himself, “Y/n, sorry about the three men by the way”, you say as you bow to him, “Don’t mind them”, “So now you’ll make me an actress?I’m ready to do anything.”, you ask, he nods his head, “But under one condition, you’ve to successfully complete this mission for me, then i’d make you a star.”, he says, you nod happily, “Okay what’s the mission? I can go now!”, you say hastily, “Calm the fuck down. You’re not trained for it yet, Sang-min, here will train you for a month before your mission, if you achieve what I’ve planned for you, consider yourself as a successful movie star in the entertainment industry”, he spits to which you oblige.

You step inside your assigned dormitory where you’ll be living with Moon Sang-Min, an actor himself, who’ll train you for your mission a month later as well as help you improve your acting skills and PR behaviour.

The next morning, you’ve water splashed on your face at 3 am, you shriek, only to see Sang-Min sitting on your bed with bucket in his hands, he picks you up from the bed and throws you onto the floor, “The fuck man?!”, you say clearly fuming, “your training starts now”, he says nonchalantly, you immediately regain your composure as you stand up straight. He instructs you to run fifty kilometres and you comply, you run around fifty kilometres in two hours, doing anything to get Kim Taehyung. He engages you in intense warming up and workout sessions, you both hit the gym and use the gym machineries to strengthen your muscles and core, you also do boxing with him as he teaches you new moves and orders you to perform them on him. The next thing he does is take you to a shooting ring, where he teaches you as to how to shoot and hold the gun, you’re startled by the loud noise at first even though you’re wearing noise cancelling headphones but gradually as each bullet pierces through the target board, you get used to it. The next thing he does surprises you, he torments you by tying you to a chair and beating you to pulp and then instructs you to escape this set up, you first are unable to but then he teaches you various techniques to help you get out of miscellaneous scenarios. You’re then expected to learn all forms of swimming methodologies and you’re forced to learn taekwondo moves on the same day as all this. At last to give you a peaceful closure to this rigorous training he put you through, he trains you in the field of acting, introducing you to various forms of articulation of emotions on your canvas of a face. You both call it a day as you step into the shower for a quick bath and are expected to fall asleep in five minutes at 1 am during night time.

The

next day, Sang min again wakes you up at 3 am. Gradually, as weeks pass, you get used to this hectic and intense indoctrination. Your inculcation ranging from getting drowned, electrocuted, shot to becoming a black belt in taekwondo, running hundred kilometres in half an hour, mastering swimming techniques and learning how to act gracefully while maintaining a good reputation online and how social media management would be the most effective way to become a leading figure in the industry to expand your influence over the general public, you learnt all this thanks to the tutelage provided by Moon Sang-min.

A month has passed by and you haven’t even felt it pass by so quickly as you were too engaged with getting ready for the mission. You pat yourself on the back as you get one more step closer to your destination (being Kim Taehyung).

“I see ‘em muscles on you.”, Namjoon says honestly, “Kudos to Sang-min for training me”, you say as you smile sheepishly. Namjoon guides you to a secret room where there’s a screen and a projector, he takes out a stick as he signals for one of his henchmen to turn on the projector. The white screen has an image of an old man on it. Namjoon points his stick at the old man. “He’s your target”, he says, you listen to him intently as you scribble down the details he narrates to you regarding the mission. “You’ll be seducing this man as a hostess of our club to the VIP room where you have to tie him up to a chair and electrocute him.”, he says, “Sounds easy”, you state, “‘Til you hear about his tight security, he could be having sex with ya’ and have his men watch it. Your fight is not against this old geezer but actually against the army of men he roams around with. Can I rely on ya?”, he asks, now sounding serious, “Absolutely!”, you chirp, this man doesn’t scare you, in fact, if it took for you to defeat his gigantic swamp of pics to get Taehyung, you’d exactly do that.

You’re wearing a black satin dress which hugs your curves and accentuates your cleavage, bringing prominence to your enlarged breasts. You’ve applied ample amount of makeup on your face, lastly putting on a cherry red lipstick to make yourself look enticing. You wear a gold pendant to put emphasis on your slender collarbones. You’ve hidden a laser tag, rope and a small gun under your dress. You also have liquid phosgene and chloroform in small bottles in case of emergency. You’re taken to the host club via a black jeep. You retouch your makeup and hair before entering as a hostess.

Time flies by, while waiting for the old geezer, your target. He finally arrives after what seems like an eternity to you. You roll your eyes but after the amazing acting sessions by Sang-min, you’re able to masquerade your bored expressions with the one that is usually possessed by a seductress. You walk up to the man, purposely swinging your hips to draw attention to your ass, you see him surrounded by ten bodyguards and seven ladies. You serve drinks to his men, out of which, only five seem to accept the drinks offered by you. You get noticed by the old man whose attention you intended to grab, by serving drinks to his men. He invites you over to sit on his lap, you smile at him enticingly as you lean down, making him have glimpse of your nipples through your exposed cleavage window, you sit on his lap and start stroking his dick, he starts growing hot, you guide his fingers to inside your dress, he plays with your clothed nipples, now wanting to lick and suckle on them as well, he removes your sleeve off one of your shoulders, you gently hold his hands and your fingers point upstairs, showing him the VIP room where he could have you whole, he licks his lips and asks his men to follow you and him to the exclusive room, unbeknownst to the smirk that’s slightly playing on your lips as you’re able to successfully lure him into the room.

As you’re about to enter the luxurious VIP room, the five men whom you served drinks suddenly faint and fall down onto the floor, the other men get alert while you’ve to quickly jump into action so you immediately put a cloth sprayed with chloroform over the old man’s mouth causing him to faint, you immediately tie him up with the agility and speed you acquired through the training, as soon as the other five men who were tending to the fainted men, get up and look at you tying their boss, they set into attack you. One of the guys tries to punch you which you dodge gracefully as you form a full circle with your leg and kick his leg causing him to fall down on his knees due to the incinerated injury, the second man then approaches you with a gun, you kick the gun out of his hand as you electrocute him and cause him to faint, you kick the first man again, now in the balls and then shoot him in the head, killing him on spot, the third and the fourth men attack you at the same time, you’re able to successfully escape their punches while you attempt to kick their stomachs and punch them in their face simultaneously, you shoot them as well, killing them on spot, the last standing man, jumps at you, causing you to fall down, you both keep on rolling over each other, trying to gain dominance over the other, then you suddenly grab his hair and feed him the bottle of phosgene, killing him on spot as well. Namjoon arrives a while later while you’re looking at your freshly manicured nails. Namjoon looks at how you’ve successfully accomplished your task and then pats your back, you look at him while he does that, “I don’t want felicitations, I want to act.”, you state with a poker face, Namjoon nods his head and says, “Tomorrow morning, meet me in the same hall as the day we discussed your mission”, you nod in return.

The following morning, you dress up extra as you’re excited to finally come miles closer to Taehyung. You can’t wait to achieve your goal and as you become closer to your aim, your heart starts failing due to overloaded excitement and thrill.

Namjoon is seated on one of the black chairs wearing a suit, he looks at you as you enter the room, you sit on the seat beside him. “So what now?”, you say excitedly, he takes out a picture of a young man in front of you, “You’re going to seduce him now.”, he says, you frown at his words, “Is this another mission?”, you ask, he shakes his head, “No, sleeping with him will make you a star”, he says, “So I just have to sleep with him?”, you innocently ask, he again shakes his head, “If only it was that easy, you need to record yourself sleeping with him and then blackmail him to cast you in one of his projects.”, he says, surprising you, “I’ve to record a porno now?”, you say slightly fluttered, “…and use that as your ticket to K-entertainment industry.”, he finishes speaking. “Where do I find this man though?”, you ask, “You’ll know soon don’t worry sweetheart.”, he says.

And you do get to know where you’ll locate him, you’re now sitting right next to him at a bar as he’s looking at scripts of his future projects. He is a director after all. You’re wearing a revealing red dress, your cleavage prominently visible, your milky thighs exposed to the man. You’re just waiting for the workaholic to notice you. Although he is known for sleeping around but right now he’s too engrossed with his work. You’ve to somehow distract him from his work. What a perfect plan to incorporate your ideas as well. Your glass slips out of your hand, spilling juice on his glasses, he is bound to look up at you now, but to your surprise, he still doesn’t, that’s when you come up with an impromptu plan to clean his glasses, you suddenly tap on his shoulders, he looks at you stunned by your beauty, you then speak to him, “Kind sir, may I wipe the juice droplets that trickled down to your glasses?”, you ask politely, your voice soft, he melts as he slowly complies to your request, you flash a smile to him while you take his glasses in your hand and wipe them using your handkerchief. You both then engage in a conversation at the bar, where he’s telling you how his name is Jungkook and that he’s a director and you’re telling him how you’re an aspiring author, your inspiration being L.J. Smith. He seems pretty into you by now. You stare into his eyes before capturing his lips into a small sweet kiss which he reciprocates, his lust, clear as crystal. You both make out till you reach out of the club, he phones his driver to get his car, you both silently walk up to his car, where he helps you sit. He kisses you there as well in the car, his spectacles sometimes clashing with your nose bridge making you chuckle. you reach his apartment and as you’re about to enter, he stops you. He makes you remove your dress in front of him in the corridor before letting you in his house, he also ensures that you have kept your small purse outside his door. After this, he pounces on you like a beast, devouring you. He puts his glasses on a night table in front of the bed in which he’s about to take you in wholly. After you both are done with your intense love making session, with his hickeys painted all over your body, he asks you to leave, that surprises you a bit but you do as he says, you get out of his apartment and step into your dress outside his gate.

The following morning, Jungkook receives an email from an unknown sender, he immediately opens the mail out of burning curiosity but that turns out to be his biggest regret ever as he’s met with the video of him fucking you on the bed. In one of the scenes, he’s seen snorting coke through your ass while actively spanking your ass, if the media gets a hold of this footage, it would ruin him, which he fears the most. The only thing most astonishing about this entire incident more than the sex tape was the fact that you were somehow able to film the sex even-though all your stuff had been barricaded outside his house. He wonders as to how you’ve done the deed and then he notices his spectacles on his nose bridge, he fucking yells out your name as realisation sinks in, you spilled the juice on his glasses on purpose, in order to blackmail him with his sex tape where he’s doing drugs the wolf way. He immediately responds to the email, wanting to meet up with the sender, who he thinks is you, and he turns out to be right, as you sit in front of him, wearing a red lipstick, still looking hot as ever. “What the fuck do you want, woman?”, Jungkook questions panic lacing in his voice. “I lied about being an aspiring author, I wanna be an actress! You’re a hot shot director.”, you say, Jungkook now understands you, the likes of you who desperately want money and fame, he’s disgusted by girls like you who use deception to actively climb up the ladder but he has no choice but to submit to your qualms as you hold an integral piece of evidence that will destroy his career. “Okay, the first thing today I’ll do will be cast you in my new project, Cha eun woo is the male lead.”, he says as you frown, Jungkook notices the saddened expression on your face, “You don’t want to work?”, he inquires, “I’ll be honest with you, I actually don’t want to act”, you say truthfully as Jungkook looks taken aback by what you just said, “Then why the fuck are you blackmailing me woman?”, he asks as a scowl forms on his face, “fame is not what i want”, you say as jungkook raises an eyebrow wanting you to continue, “there’s someone I want for whom I could go to any extent, cross whatever lines that exist between us, just so that I could one day make him mine.”, you say as you think of Taehyung, Jungkook doesn’t understand what you say that is until you take out a small plastic bag out of your pocket containing Taehyung’s hair strand, you carry it everywhere with you as a token of your undying love for the aforementioned man, “This is actor’s Taehyung hair strand, I bought it when I was fourteen via dark web.”, you state, surprising him, “You love Taehyung?”, he states now even more amused by you, “I think what I harbour for him surpasses love, he has become the sole reason of my existence.”, you state with fire blazing in your eyes, Jungkook notices how your soulless eyes finally show emotions at the mention of Taehyung, now it wouldn’t be just pure blackmail motivating him to get you to work with Taehyung but also his own curiosity to get to know you better. “Come tomorrow, I’m planning to replace the villainess of my tv show in which Taehyung is starring, I think you’d be a perfect fit for the character”, he says, “Why not the main female lead?”, you question to which he smirks before replying, “Taehyung’s current girlfriend is playing that role alongside him now.”, as these words leave his lips, you feel a pang of jealousy within your heart, in fact, your soul set to arson by the revelation of this fact, looking at your current expressions, Jungkook taunts, “did you really think he’d go on in his life without dating anyone? did you never consider this being a possibility?”, he snarks, you roll your eyes, “it stings a lot I’d admit it but even if he was married, that wouldn’t stop me from making him mine so what even is a girlfriend in front of me?”, you retort, Jungkook looks surprised as he raises his hands in surrender.

The following morning, you wake up at 4 am, grooming yourself, getting ready, it takes you 5 hours to get ready and you still don’t feel like that is enough, you’re finally going to be meeting your destination, the person who has owned your heart ever since you’ve been ten. You wear the most expensive dress there is in the closet, you keep on screaming out of sheer excitement and nervousness, you haven’t eaten a thing since morning as this is the least you can do for the man who has had your heart stolen by him, your soul belongs to him, you solely only belong to him, the entire long drawn journey, finally bearing fruitful results, you grow overwhelmed with emotions as you’re nearing him. You’ve fainted five times already at the thought of meeting him. This is your condition before even meeting him, what would even happen when you meet him.

Hours pass by, as you reach the sets of Jungkook’s ongoing project. The d-day has finally arrived. You’re gonna meet the king of your soul, your body, your heart heck your everything.

Moments before the grandeur meeting. You finally see him, your soul which was aching for even a glimpse of him is now taken abode to heaven. Your heart thirsting for even a glance of him gets quenched when you finally see his features. God has carefully crafted in the formation of this handsome man, his features absolutely breath taking, his eyes, a beautiful shade of light brown. Fireworks explode in your chest as you fall to your knees at the sight of him, that is, until you see him with his supposed girlfriend but not for long. Jungkook comes near you as he helps you stand up while your soul burning with envy looks at the woman as an involuntary scowl forms on your face. That woman seems familiar to you. Where have you seen her before. You keep on pondering and that is when it clicks you. The man you’ve been desiring since most of your childhood is dating your childhood friend Evie?!. This is a shock to you, how did she even bag him is what you wonder. Suddenly, Taehyung’s eyes are directed towards you, your hearts skips a beat as you stare back into his beautiful and mesmerising eyes. Taehyung leaves his girlfriend to come talk to you. As Taehyung’s approaching you, Jungkook whispers into your ears, “He doesn’t like women who immediately jump onto him so you might want to curb your urge to just fuck him here.”, he says while you tune it all out because you’re in your own world because of Kim Taehyung. “Hey, you’re new here!”, he says smiling at you, you keep on admiringly staring at him before you’re pulled out of the trance as he waves his hand in front of you, “Oh i’m sorry, yes I’ll be playing the new villainess here.”, you internally scream as you’re talking to Taehyung live in action.

“Now kiss!”, Taehyung moves forward to kiss Evie, but as they’re about to kiss, you scream, you make others think that it’s impromptu method acting but all you’re trying to do is not let them kiss, this is when Evie notices you and recognises you, she’s a bit surprised by your ‘sudden acting’. “Bravo acting”, Jungkook praises you as you bow to him, then Taehyung comes to you and as he’s about to come to you, you intentionally slip on your heels, causing for Taehyung to hold you by your waist to prevent your fall. You both bore into each other’s eyes, feeling an electrifying spark, your breath shortening due to him being so close.

“Cut!” The cast wraps up for the day, “You did well”, Taehyung smiles at you feeling something between you spark, “So did you”, you reply honestly. “Can you give me your number?”, he asks, your heart starts racing hard, “Sure”, you smile at him, you jot down your number on a paper and give it to him. He smiles at you and then proceeds to leave with that whore.

You secretly follow Taehyung as he’s with Evie, he hands the note with your number to her, you’re so confused by this but you choose to ignore his actions as you’re more focused on admiring him. Taehyung goes to his apartment while Evie is alone, this is also the night, you’ve set up to have Taehyung break things off with Evie immediately because you know you cannot stand to see them together anymore.

You dial in Moon Sang-min’s number on your phone and tell him to come with his car, he follows your word and arrives with his car, you get in and push him out, “Do what I told you to do”, is what you say him before he nods and goes Evie’s way.

“Hello”, Sang-min says to Evie, she gets startled by his sudden appearance, “Hello Oppa”, she says blushing profusely, of course she is attracted to him, Sang-min subtly puts his arms around her waist as they continue talking as someone captures their meeting, unknown to her. That someone being you, you post their interaction via Dispatch on Jungkook’s instructions.

An uproar is caused in the morning, multiple death threats sent to Evie by Sang-min’s fans, which you think she deserves, you hum happily, as you learn about the hate she’s receiving.

You get a text from an unknown number, the text reads, “Hi Y/n babe, I missed you so much, please text me when you read this, It’s Evie, Let’s meet up, I kind of need you right now.”, you immediately respond back, agreeing to meet up with her. You wear the second most expensive dress in your closet to visit her.

She’s looking at the ocean while waiting for you in a cafe’s balcony, the café that is owned by Jungkook. As soon as she sees you entering the café, she waves at you. You go towards her. You take a seat in front of her as she motions to speak, “I’m so sorry we haven’t been in contact for so long!”, she apologises genuinely, “it’s okay”, you smile at her as you say that. You both talk about how your lives have had been while you’ve been away from each other, you lie about your life though.

Hours pass by, as you both catch up, that’s when Evie strikes up her concerns with you, “You know Y/n I’ve been getting so much hate ever since someone pictured my harmless interaction with Sang-min oppa and you know I can stand all that hate but this one hurts because even Taehyung is mad at me now.”, she says, surprising you, “Has he broken up with you?”, you say barely being able to hide your happiness, “Noo ew; we’ll never break up, in fact we’d get married.”, she says, this turns something in you as you offer her brown sugar to add to her coffee, which she happily complies with. “You know Evie, while growing up even I’ve had a huge crush on Taehyung”, you say as it surprises Evie now, “Is that so?”, she says, “Yes, things get messy when a simple crush blurs its lines with desire, passion and undying love for the person”, you say confusing her, “How so?”, she asks, “Crush is something you can get over, the love I’m talking about transcends peak obsession, you know where you blur the lines between good and evil for the one you love.”, you say explaining to her, she still doesn’t understand but gives you a small smile, “That’s cute but whom do you love that way.”, she asks curious, “Taehyung”, you simply reply while sipping onto your coffee, her face gets rubbed off of any smile on her face, as she slowly loses her consciousness, slowly diving towards death, wholly because of the poison you did add to the brown sugar sachet before handing it to her. There stands no one between you and Taehyung, you’ll ensure no one does.

The next morning, the entire nation is in splits after the devastating announcement of your childhood friend’s murder orchestrated as a suicide by you due to online bullying and harassment she faced online when she has had been alive. You grab your purse before heading out to Taehyung’s place as you know he’d be the most devastated one by this news and you stand corrected, he’s crying, he’s spiralling down into doldrum but worry not he has you to nurse his broken heart, you offer your fake condolences to him and then console him, feeling a bit envious because of Evie’s death impacting him so much but whatever at least there would be no more hurdles between you and him now.

You and Taehyung have been getting pretty close now, especially after the day Evie left this world’s premises. You’ve always offered him a reliable shoulder to cry on. Taehyung is slowly forgetting about Evie and getting over her death as you fill up the empty holes in his heart. Taehyung is gradually falling in love with you, he spends all his time with you, even on the sets of the show you’ve been taken in as the female lead by Jungkook now after Evie’s passing. He loves all the moments he has spent with you as he replays your conversations with him all over in his head again and again, he cherishes you and is planning to confess soon to you.

The day Taehyung confesses to you, you feel so mellow and gentle, you’ve a song written for him by a famous singer, Keara Graves, you sing the song to him as your response to accepting his confession. You both get into a relationship moments later. Your plan has effectively worked well, you’ve come a long way with everything, you’ve to pat yourself on the back for never giving up and going through hell to obtain the man whom you call very much so yours now. You have had known that meeting someone during their vulnerable period makes them get attached to you and that is what you did with Taehyung, you waited for him to get vulnerable, strike at the right time and then win his heart.

This has been quite a journey for you, you’ve learnt a lot about yourself and how much you can do for this man you’ve promised to love forever in this life time. You’ve achieved your goal successfully. This feels unreal to you but then you remember you’d do anything to have him even if it means putting your life at stake and you did do everything you could to have him. You’re in love with this man, there’s no denying that, you’ll always love him no matter what happens and you’ll ensure he never leaves your side nonetheless.

This is the love story where you relentlessly love him and go to any extent to get him to become yours.

This is your story of loving him and how love and will can move mountains, just like in your case.

Thinkin' 'bout the day when we first met The way you made me feel and how you left What I wouldn't give just to be more To be someone that you hold and you adore Look at my eyes See what you mean to me Feel the beat of my heart I need to believe that I could walk through fiery burning love But you still wouldn't feel the heat Feel the heat It burns in me But you see through me I could walk through fiery burning love (you see through me) I could walk through fiery burning love You always know exactly what to say To pull me in before you walk away But I don't wanna go through this again To act like I'm okay just being friends Look at my eyes See what you mean to me Feel the beat of my heart I need to believe that I could walk through fiery burning love But you still wouldn't feel the heat Feel the heat It burns in me But you see through me I could walk through fiery burning love Oh now, I'm calling out I don't have the words to say Maybe in another life it could be another way In another life you'd stay Look at my eyes See what you mean to me Feel the beat of my heart I need to believe that I could walk through fiery burning love But you still wouldn't feel the heat Feel the heat It burns in me But you see through me I could walk through fiery burning love (you see through me) I could walk through fiery burning love

~Keara Graves.

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the end

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commander-krios · 28 days

Text

Coming to Terms

Fandom: Mass Effect Pairing: Jeff "Joker" Moreau/Female Shepard Rating: Mature Summary: Stars.

Majestic celestial objects that can make a human, or a turian, or an asari, feel small as they gaze upon them. Called on for protection, a symbol of divinity, "wish upon a star"… they are meant to bring comfort, inspiration, awe.

But for Joker and his Commander, they are a reminder of a tragedy that both wish to forget.

Words: 3096 Additional Tags: PTSD, Trauma, Death and Resurrection, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Bruises, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Friends to Lovers, Budding Love, Pining

Gift for @cat-shepard for the @hatboyexchange

Read on AO3

“EDI.” Joker said, trying to keep himself from cringing at the fact that he was talking to the damned AI willingly. Out of all the goddamn things that could've infested his ship, an artificial intelligence controlled by a well known terrorist organization was at the bottom of his list. Well, it would've been if he had a list. “Where’s the Commander?”

“Commander Shepard is in the starboard observatory, Mr. Moreau.”

“Thanks.” He muttered, brushing a hand through his hair, noting how he could probably use a haircut soon. When he finally shuffled to the door that separated him from his best friend, he paused.

What the hell was he going to say?

Joker knew he had no right to demand anything from Shepard, but he thought their friendship meant more to her. But she ran off to take down some crazy mind melting asari without even so much as a warning. After everything Cerberus had done to bring her back, after everything he'd suffered because of her death...

This was what Kaidan meant when he said that fraternization caused trouble.

I’m so in love with her that I can’t even let her do her job without worrying.

Forcing himself to focus, Joker took a breath to steady the nervous tremor in his hands before he entered the starboard observatory.

The lights were off and his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark after the bright white of the hall. The shutters were open wide, giving him a marvelous view of the stars in the distance. Blue, white, even red blinked back at him as he stared into the blackness of space and for a moment, he felt inconsequential compared to the rest of the universe.

Then he saw her.

Shepard was standing slightly to the left of his eyeline, hands pressed up against the window. Her breath was leaving little puffs of condensation on the glass, but her gaze was focused outward, on the stars or whatever it was she saw in her own head. He realized, too late, that she was wearing her sleepwear.

“How long have you been standing here?” He asked, trying to avoid staring at the shorts and barely there tank top that covered her body. Focus, Joker.

“I’ve been thinking.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to look anywhere else, hoping for a distraction. There was a weird totum sitting on a side table. Probably something of Samara’s if the design was anything to go by. “Yeah? How’s that going for you?”

With a sigh, she faced him, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the window. Those ever perceptible eyes were hard to resist and he found himself meeting them. Her insanely bright auburn hair was unbrushed, tangled, some strands sticking to her forehead. And that's when he noticed the bruising along her collarbone. From the fight against the ardat-yakshi if he had to make a guess.

“Jeff, why are you here? You seemed upset earlier.”

He tried to swallow past the lump in throat, but he almost felt like he was going to choke. So he cleared his throat instead. That helped… somewhat. “I am upset. You tried to get yourself killed."

He saw the eye roll she attempted to hide. "I did not-"

"Running headlong into danger with no backup? Sounds familiar."

It was painfully familiar, the status quo, a normal day following a Spectre around. But even in the dimness of the room, Joker could see the injuries against her pale skin, and he felt his heart pound uncomfortably beneath his ribs. Did she realize how close she'd been to death for a second time?

"Joker." The tone she spoke in was a warning, giving him the chance to backpedal, to change the direction of the conversation, but Jeff Moreau wasn't a coward.

Or at very least, he didn't know when to shut his mouth.

"Is one death not enough for you, Commander? Need to add a few more to the count?"

Her eyes, emerald oceans that were burned into the back of his mind, flashed angrily in response. "How can you even ask me something like that, Joker? Do you think I find this fun? I didn't ask for any of this!"

All he could see haunting him at nights for nearly two years were green eyes peering out a helmet, eyes that begged for help and he was too weak to give it. Then an explosion before he felt nothing at all.

"Yeah, well, neither did I."

She stared at him in the cold silence, eyes peering into whatever was left of his soul. He wasn't sure if he still had one after he'd sold most of it to Cerberus. He stared back, refusing to back down even though she was terrifying when she was angry: all fiery righteousness and snark. They were a lot alike in that way. Maybe it's why they were such good friends.

And why they got on each other's nerves so easily.

Shepard turned away, eyes fixed on a faraway point in the space that stretched endlessly beyond the window. They'd disembarked from Omega only an hour before and the Normandy, carrying her crew and the infamous Commander, passed the relay that they'd need to brave soon enough. To go somewhere no one had returned from before.

The very place that would most likely become their graves regardless of what happened with the Collectors.

The Omega-4 relay’s eerie glow reminded Joker of blood, and not for the first time, he was apprehensive about what was to come. They had little knowledge about what was beyond the relay besides a black hole and the Collector base. And the ship that had destroyed the first Normandy and taken the illustrious Commander Shepard with it.

But he didn’t want to lose her again.

The thought was the most selfish thing he’d allowed himself in years, but dammit, she'd already died once. Lost two years. She’d packed as much living as she could in the last few months, in preparation for the suicide mission, but it wasn’t enough.

It never would be enough.

At first, he didn't think she was going to say anything else. Perhaps he'd really just pissed her off to the point that she was finished with him. And if he was honest, he deserved it. Probably deserved worse actually. It was his fault that she'd died the first time. And if she died a second time past the Omega-4, Joker would be the one flying her to the end again.

The thought left an uncomfortable lump in his throat. Was he always going to be responsible for putting Shepard in danger? If he was in her shoes, he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive it.

Joker took a step to the door, deciding belatedly it was a bad idea to bring up his grievances with his boss when she hadn't had any choice in the matter in the first place. People usually only lived one time. Once you were dead, that was it, no second chances. Shepard did get a second chance, but it was against her will.

Joker wondered if he hadn't been so ready to throw in with Cerberus because of what they'd promised, maybe she would still be at peace, away from the galaxy sucking squid in dark space.

He'd barely taken a step when he heard his name on her breath, a whisper so soft that he thought he'd imagined it at first. His steps faltered and Joker nearly tripped over his own feet, grateful when he managed to get a hand out and steady himself against the small table beside him. The last thing he needed to do was break his neck and have the most pathetic death in all of the galaxy.

He waited, the silence grating on his ears. The air circulator kicked on, whirring above him as the fresh oxygen cycled into the room. It was cool against his skin, leaving goosebumps along his exposed flesh, and he shivered, a thought coming unbidden.

How painful was it for Shepard when she was left gasping for that same oxygen two years ago?

"Do you..." He paused, finding the words difficult to come by. He settled on going with the first thing that came to mind. Honesty was always the best policy, right? That's what the vids wanted him to believe. "Do you wish you were dead?"

Joker immediately noticed the flinch as his question hit her. She glanced at him, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise. "Is that what you think?"

He shrugged, trying to not break down in front of Shepard, the last thing he needed was for her to see his weakness, but an uneasy feeling curled in his gut. Joker dropped his gaze, unable to look at her anymore, biting back the wave of nausea that nearly overwhelmed him. "Actions speak louder than words, Shepard."

The Commander was always a risk-taker with her own life, jumping into danger without a thought for her own mortality. But lately, it seemed like she was toying with her life, caring little if she made it out of the fight alive, even with the Reaper threat hanging over their heads. She was a war hero, a Spectre, practically a goddamned legend.

One with a death wish.

With a heavy sigh, Shepard slid to the floor in front of the massive viewport, sticking her legs out in front of her. Her back was pressed against the hull of the ship and she leaned her head against the glass of the window, eyes fixed on the ceiling, body sagging under the enormous weight upon her shoulders. The inevitable destruction of the galaxy was something no one should bear alone.

"Shepard-"

"Do you know what I see when I look out there?" She nodded her head towards the expanse of stars behind her. She wouldn't glance at the view herself, but even from where he stood, he could see the exhaustion on her face: dark circles under her eyes like more bruises, creases between her eyebrows where she held some of her tension, the drooping corner of her lips.

"If you wanted to watch fiery balls of gas, I'm sure Jack has a way to make it more fun." Joker paused, rethinking his train of thought immediately as his brain screamed 'danger' at him. "You know what, pretend I didn't suggest that. She might-"

Blow up this Normandy too.

The words died on his tongue. Shepard must've sensed where his thoughts went because her frown deepened.

Stupid, Joker. As if Shepard wasn't already haunted by dying in the cold vacuum of space.

Closing her eyes tightly, Shepard took a deep shaking breath, her fingers curling painfully into her thighs. She was paler than usual, the freckles dusting her arms and cheeks looking odd against her skin. This close, he could see the hairline design of her cybernetic scars, glowing crimson red, a match to the creepy glow of the Omega-4 relay.

At least she's breathing now.

The thought almost made him vomit.

It took nearly all of his strength to speak again, knowing that he'd probably say something stupid as fuck. But she needed to hear what he had to say even if she didn't want to believe the truth of it. With a sigh, Joker crossed the room, trying to not hurt himself as he settled into the spot next to her, on the floor and all. His joints protested the movement, but Shepard was worth the discomfort.

The side of the ship was surprisingly not freezing to the touch. He leaned back, eyes watching Shepard as she kept her eyes shut even though she knew he was there. He wanted badly to reach out and touch her, to take her hand in his and bring some kind of comfort to the pain she was feeling.

But he knew what trauma did to a person. And it was unlikely to go away without a fight. The real question was whether she wanted to fight.

Neither spoke as they sat there, the air circulator the only sound in the room besides the roar of blood in Joker's ears. The warmth of Shepard's body kept him from freezing under the direct path of the compressor and he shifted slightly closer, his arm brushing against hers, skin against skin, and he shivered.

"Jeff."

"Hmm?"

Her voice was quiet when she spoke again, almost as if she was afraid to admit she held any sort of weakness. Which was absurd, but then Joker knew exactly how she felt about that. Sometimes, it was better for everyone if you didn't admit you were only human. Everyone felt safer if they believed they followed a superhuman, so that's what people like Shepard pretended to be.

If only that made you one.

"There is a window above my bed." She paused, almost as if she couldn't believe it herself. "I can't go up there knowing it's there. I can't sleep as it is but if I try to sleep in that bed..."

Joker could understand the implications. Waking up to see the stars so close above her... it would only remind her of the last time she'd seen the stars so closely.

And it was his fault.

He'd done this to Shepard. His ego, his assurance that he could save a fucking ship over the human lives that it carried... Some fucking pilot he was. Despite the people who'd made it off, so many still died that day. Like Chase, and Pressly, and Grenado, and Tanaka...

And Shepard.

"I'm sorry." The words slipped out before he could stop them. His head thumped against the window, the stars mocking him from where they hung. "I... If I'd listened the first time you told me to abandon ship, you would've never been there when it..."

When it was destroyed.

"What?" Shepard glanced at him, watching him cautiously in the darkness. "Jeff, if you didn't keep the ship on course, if you didn't try to evade the shots, more of us would've died. Including you. And if you weren't here, I don't know what I would do."

Joker snorted, a humorless noise that sounded wrong in the emptiness of the room. "I'm sure you'd be fine without me fucking up your life. You got killed because of me. I've had to live with that for two years and I thought... that maybe Cerberus could bring you back. Maybe we could go back to before."

But they couldn't because nothing would ever be the same again.

"It's my fault."

Her hand slipped into his gently. With a light squeeze, she sat up, taking care to avoid looking out of the window behind them. Somehow, he found it in himself to meet her gaze. He didn't deserve her understanding or her sympathy, but it was there nonetheless.

"I would've never left you behind, Joker. You know that."

And that only made him feel more guilty.

"You shouldn't have to make that choice."

Shepard huffed a laugh, staring at their entwined hands. The dark circles were worse close up. He guaranteed she wasn't sleeping at all. "I've never had much of a choice in anything, Joker. Before death and apparently after."

"I'm-"

"Don't you dare say 'sorry' again, Moreau." She snapped at him, eyes flashing dangerously. "It doesn't matter what you think happened two years ago. I wasn't going to leave you behind. There was never a 'but' or 'if' involved. If you were going down, I was going with you. And if there was a chance I could save you, then I had to take it."

Joker stared at her, feeling somehow worse and better at the same time. "Out of everyone on the ship, you went down for me? Why? And how could you leave me to deal with the fallout?"

She swallowed loudly, eyes shifting to stare at the stars over his shoulder, gaze lost in a sea of memories. "You're my best friend, Joker. Always were and I..." Taking a deep breath, she finally looked at him again. "I would do it again, even if it meant I'd die again."

A flare of anger kindled in his chest. "I've suffered for two fucking years over this. Lost my career, my friends, everything, because of the mistake I made. I lost Commander Shepard on my watch! And you! The worst thing of all is you were gone. I had nothing! And you act like it was the easiest choice in the galaxy."

Her eyes avoided his and it only made him angrier.

"You didn't see what happened after! You were dead and you didn't have to worry about it anymore. You were Commander Shepard, War Hero, Spectre, Savior. What is my life to yours? Nothing, according to the Alliance."

And no matter how much of an ego he had, he did agree with the brass. No one could replace Shepard.

Shepard reached forward with her free hand and cupped his jaw, the tips of her fingers running over the shadow of his beard. He froze at her touch, unsure of what was happening, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest that he was positive she could hear it from where she sat.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her fingers brushing up his face before carding through his hair. “Thank you for being here. I know it isn't ideal, but without you, Joker, I would've turned myself into the Alliance, let them decide what to do with me.” Shepard finally met his eyes, tears trailing down her cheeks, leaving wet tracks in her skin. "You are important, Jeff. One of the most important people to me. The hell with the Alliance. As long as I have you, I'll keep going as long as I can."

His throat closed up, emotion nearly bringing him to tears as well. Every time he tried to talk, he found that each set of words meant little after what she'd said. He was important to her. It wasn't a love confession or anything, but fucking hell, it was better than that. She respected him. She needed him.

Joker had never been needed before.

Somehow, even as his head spun with everything Shepard had said, Joker managed a pathetic, “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

And Shepard smiled at him. She was exhausted, injured, and full of a trauma that would never be buried, but he had an effect on her. For a moment, in the stillness of the starboard observatory, the galaxy was at peace.

#my writing #mass effect #mass effect trilogy #cat-shepard #jeff joker moreau #jeff moreau #joker moreau #femshep #female shepard #femshep x joker #shoker #hatboy exchange

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