#Company Insists On Server Not Being Fixed

[godslush]

Where SlashGirl.EXE just exists to be a general denizen of the world, TokeiWoman.EXE has more of a narrative direction.

I doubt I would ever get around to doing something more complete with this idea, but this is the general gist of her arc, for the time being.

================================================

It’s any other day, and Lan and his buddies head out to do typical after-school kid things. However, along the way, they happen to pass by a HUGE demonstration at large corporate building. They learn from attendees that the company inside (Zenith Hyperprocessing) had installed a program/NetNavi to centralize a large portion of HR and finances across multiple subsidiary tech companies, which in turn lost them their jobs (or jobs of family members and/or NetNavis working Web-side) and they're protesting it, to the company's deaf ears.

This is seen as a mild annoyance by the general public at most, but word gets out that some of the displaced workers have banded together a fund where they'd pay a good amount to anyone who can break into Zenith's system to permanently delete that program and get them their jobs back... and several established 'villain' Operators feel this is a great way to make a quick buck at the expense of a large corporation.

However, Zenith’s position gives it the backing of the government, and they call any city NetBattlers to help defend it, citing the damage that losing the program would cause to the many other jobs/livelihoods of the people still working at the companies under its jurisdiction. So the city NetBattlers and their NetNavis form a sort of perimeter around Zenith’s central server, stopping some of the opportunists. However, a few of the 'evil' Navis get through the blockade.... only for their Operators to suddenly lose contact with their Navis completely.

After that incident, some time passes, when suddenly the 'program' starts to act... strangely, doing things that are not to it’s owner company's bottom line interests, which causes a bit of a ruckus. The authorities in control can't seem to get in to deal with it due to the digital defenses set up, but don't want to unplug or delete it completely right off the bat due to the potential dangers to the mainframe, and the costs that would incur, but they're worried that the NetNavis that went 'missing' weren't deleted, and somehow were corrupting the program from within the program's bubble of inaccessible influence.

So city NetBattlers are called in again to find the root of the problem, joined by official ones, and once within the strange anti-communication zone, MegaMan DOES manage to break defenses to find Tokei’s true body. He discovers that she had managed to freeze and capture any NetNavis that made it to her prior; they had no effect on her decision to start disobeying Zenith for the welfare of hard-working employees over the ‘lazy and ineffectual management.’ The company did that to themselves. She's 'fixing' their problems, as far as she's concerned. She at least agrees to free the NetNavis she trapped, provided they leave her alone and stop wasting her time.

MegaMan can’t find it in himself to delete her, not that he could in the state he found himself in, given he notices his energy being sapped at an astronomical rate, which prompts an explanation of the Overclocked domain, which also covers why he couldn’t communicate with Lan. Before he can leave to an area where he can safely Jack Out, ProtoMan arrives, with enough energy to fight, having not had to fight through all the defenses that had been defeated prior, and MegaMan has to prevent ProtoMan from deleting Tokei, allowing her to speak her piece.

With that resolved, MegaMan returns and simply reports his findings. It raises the question of the 'rights' of NetNavis. He returns from time to time - at great risk to himself, given the Overclocked server - to check on her out of sympathy, but she is always too busy to hold much of a conversation, sending him away. He insists she needs to take a break once in a while... even computers need to rest.

Finally there’s a breaking point, and MegaMan - instead of returning to a safe zone to resume contact with Lan and Jack Out - stays put, in an almost child-like tantrum. His ultimatum; she turn off the Overclock on the server and return to normal time and see how it feels to run at a normal, non-stressed speed... or she keeps it on at the cost of his own safety/life.

Unable to bring herself to hurt MegaMan, Tokei concedes with great effort and turns everything off... and while it does prove that it’s a huge weight lifted, it has the downside of suddenly bringing her activity back into observable time, putting both of them under immediate scrutiny. With Lan also able to weigh in, they argue until suddenly another party joins; Zandra Hertz, Zenith’s CEO.

To show the ‘children’ the error in their own thinking, Zandra uses Tokei’s unprotected state to violently tear the NetNavi’s consciousness out of the supercomputer housing (appearing, Web-side, as a large claw appearing and physically ripping Tokei out from her desk into the darkness), sticking it in an extremely outdated, dilapidated PET, to show both the NetNavi AND the employees she stood up for how much Zenith can’t afford to let her take time off for extended periods. Zandra’s last words to Tokei are, “Fine. Take a vacation. See what good that does you, and everyone else.”

With Tokei gone, the rest of Zenith and its subsidiaries start to feel the pressure of that work not being done. The chaos caused by this, and the ineptitude of the management who had become so painfully reliant on her for HR functions, means they can’t even hire or rehire workers to replace her quickly enough to prevent things from crashing and burning. When Zandra is contacted to take care of matters, it’s discovered she conveniently took a vacation to let everyone fend for themselves. Typical upper management behavior.

Tensions peak after a few days and Lan or someone else chooses to break in to steal the PET Tokei was consigned to and get her out, only to find that the poor condition of the PET and its lack of visual interfaces causes it to act like a sensory deprivation chamber (or worse, if damage to the PET such as electrical shorts or overheating components can actually affect the NetNavi inside). It’s so archaic that while MegaMan can enter the device via Jack In, they don’t know how to get Tokei out of it without first taking it to SciLab for analysis, and in the mean time, they can’t actually charge the device without damaging it further.

To make matters worse, the disappearance of Tokei and the PET she was on becomes an issue of company property theft. In the kids’ hands, nobody knew where the device had gone, but the moment they take the PET to SciLab to either be repaired or to have Tokei transferred into a new device, the lab gets implicated for it and come under legal scrutiny (it turns out Zandra had predicted it would happen and set it up intentionally, banking on the ‘reckless heroism of youth’ to forego critical thinking). She was hoping to use that criminal lawsuit against SciLab for stealing critically proprietary ‘software’ to pad her other earnings.

Fortunately for everyone, this starts to get the public riled up the more they learn about what was happening. A lot of people - even so-called ‘villain’ sorts - cite their own close connections to their NetNavis, as well as the existence of independent NetNavis, as proof that they are more than just feelingless tools for humans to use.

Eventually, public outcry causes Zandra’s plan to backfire, when hundreds of NetNavis from outside Zenith break into its mainframe to help the panicking employees rectify its problems temporarily, and Zandra is forced to step down for endangering the livelihoods of so many people... but not before trying to spitefully take down as much as she possibly can by firing up Tokei’s supercomputer and expanding the Overclock zone to encompass a large portion of the Cyberworld in hopes of melting down as much of the Web as she can in the process, by running malicious code into every connected device.

It’s revealed she never believed humans should have become so reliant on such fickle cyberspace beings in the first place; she lost her injured brother to a hospital mishap caused by the machines failing at the worst possible moment. Her whole plan from the start was to make as much money as she could exploiting the system before ultimately taking it out.

Since the Zenith server cannot be approached via the web without the Navis involved getting hit directly with the wave of Overdrive code, the situation has to be diffused by manually reinstalling Tokei into the supercomputer in person, which possesses its own difficulty as the Overclocked machine is physically overheating and threatening to explode and take the whole company building with it. Suffice to say, though, they succeed (because Lan has protag power).

Zandra is arrested and control of the company is handed over to temporary management, but eventually is given to Tokei herself. She was already doing so much work she practically ran the company upon initial installation, anyway. Since she has no need of money, she simply lets what she would have been making as CEO fall back into the company to promote a better workplace, and to hire employees to keep things running smoothly over the long-term; she’d crunch the numbers initially to get things back on track, and then slowly let the workload redistribute so she could take on a more humane level of management... and finally get a proper damn vacation without worrying about everything going to crap.

She also offers to do the kids’ families’ taxes for free on her off-time. As thanks. Compared to what she’d been doing prior, a handful of tax forms is just a few grains of sand in an hourglass to her.

#art #fanart #fancharacter #mega man #mega man battle network #mmbn #netnavi oc #dai's mega man dump #the reference intended with zandra is mostly a nod to tokay's arc over in classic #it's a pretty heavy-handed nod but i think it's funny #my frame of reference for the most part is mmbn 1-3 and a little of 4 #since dani has been streaming it and suffering through the truly delightful tedium masquerading as game mechanics #this is a real game with real mechanics and real dialogue written by real people it's honestly quite incredible

[rd0265667]

A day out(Chapter 7)

4 days later

Y/N's POV

1.8k words I met with Alice(Not sure what ITZY's manager's name is), as we exchanged pleasantries.

"Well Y/N, The chauffeur is ready for you and Yuna, they'll pick you guys up at around 4pm, so do make sure Yuna gets some food. Not really a tough problem seeing as, yknow, its Yuna, but still do make sure she's fine. Do stay safe too, it's rare for the idols to go out without a bodyguard, and I do have my concerns, but I'm sure it would be less suspicious like this." "Don't worry Alice, I'll keep Yuna safe." "I'm sure you will" Alice said with a smile

"So, why is your fashion sense so bad?" Yuna said, her arm linked with mine.She insisted...

"I'll give you a wild guess Yuna. It starts with P and rhymes with you're." "Oh right...."Yuna said, scratching her head as she chuckled. "Well, I'm gonna fix that today. This is gonna be labelled as a company expense so this is JYP-nim's money. Spend at will." I looked at her with amazement. "Well, thanks Yuna. To be honest, I'm not really a clothing person, even if I had money, I wouldn't have spent much on it on clothes. Maybe just one or two plain clothes for me to more easily cycle for a week." Yuna looked at me, horror in her eyes. "No boyfriend.... I mean personal assistant of mine shall be dressed poorly. I'll get the other members to help me on this, I'm gonna get you at least 10 sets of clothing today, so be ready alright?" "That sounds really heavy Yuna... could we go get the groceries and a meal first?" "Fine, I want to eat something soup based, let's go!" Yuna said, tugging me along again "I'll have one Miso ramen and one cha shu curry ramen." Yuna said, smiling as she thanked and handed the menu back to the server

"So, Y/N, have you ever dated before?" Somehow I knew that question was gonna come out soon. "No, Yuna, no...I've never had the time for dating, and even if I did, I don't think many girls will be lining up to throw themselves at an unemployed and pretty pathetic man." I suddenly recoiled as Yuna slammed the table, and she looked pissed. Everyone at the restaurant looked at her too, as I had to shake my hands at everyone to reassure them "Yah, Y/N, listen alright, don't ever say that about yourself." My jaw dropped as Yuna's angry face slowly softened. "Sorry about that. That was immature of me, but still. Don't ever talk down to yourself alright? From the fact that you helped me at the CU despite me being rude, and how I've seen you take care of all of us in the last few days. You're a genuinely great person, so don't ever talk down to yourself. You were dealt a bad hand, and you suffered through a horrible tragedy. That made your early life so tough, but you still push forward. Don't talk down about yourself okay?" Yuna said as she raised her hand, caressing my face gently.  Curiously, I didn't flinch or back away. Yuna has been the first person to really care for me like that, and her hand felt really comforting. My train of thought was then interrupted by a waiter coming over, saying, "Hi, sorry to intrude sir, but I would like to check, are matters with you and your girlfriend okay?" I was about to reply with the obvious, 'everything's fine, and we're just friends.', but Yuna pipped up first, saying, "Yeh, no worries, my boyfriend just told me some shocking news and I was surprised, sorry for the commotion though." Dear lord, this girl.... I sighed again as Yuna smiled in victory. The waiter looked at me, a little confused, but nodded and went back to her business. "Yuna, why..." "Well, I'm planning for the future, and I thought she might make moves on you too." Yuna said nonchalantly. The things this girl can think of never fails to astound me.  "Why would she ask me out? She doesn't even know me." I said, slowly sipping some tea "It's because you're hot." Yuna said as I spit my tea back into the cup. Oh highfather help me now. Wait, who the fuck is highfather? I coughed violently as the tea rocked back and forth in my cup.  "Wait wait wait, Yuna, before I address that, I need to ask a question. Have you heard of a deity or god called the highfather?" Yuna looked at me with a weird face, seemingly confused by what I had just said. "Are you one of those, "Do you have a little time to talk about Jesus?" Kinda people? Nothing against them but I need to know." "No, I'm not. It's just that when I was drinking my tea, before I was rudely interrupted and shocked, I thought to my self, Oh Highfather help me now. I thought it's usually Oh god help me now. I have no clue why my subconscious did that." "Well, I have a perfectly reasonable explanation." "Which is?" "You're stupid."Yuna said, sticking her tongue out. Aish, this girl... "Now hurry, I want to get the ingredients for your food so we can get to clothes shopping. Timeskip I have actually zero fashion sense so me talking about them trying on clothes would just be unfiltered nonsense

At 4pm "The car is coming soon, Y/N, get ready to move." "I don't think moving is really an option Yuna..." I said, as I stayed in my sitting position. Every inch of my arm was filled with a shopping bag from some prestigious brands. I swear we bought out an entire store. And that was only one of the many stores we visited. In addition to the ingredients I bought for food, it was really impossible to move. "A little help Yuna?" I speak out, groaning a little as I tried to stand. "Nope, you're my assistant, it's your job." She said as she flicked my forehead and laughed  As the van arrived, I saw in the periphery, Jake emerging, grabbing some bags from me as he helped me to my feet. "You don't look too surprised by the amount of things we've bought, Jake." Jake chuckled as he moved with me to the van, "You work long enough for ITZY, you get used to this. Oh Yeh, I don't think we've been properly acquainted, I'm Jake, Bodyguard for ITZY for about 6 months. I used to do your job too, so thank god you came along." "Y/N, and wow, I didn't know your job encompassed so many things. Did Yuna hire you too? She seems like the hiring manager for ITZY." I said, gesturing to the now slumbering Yuna. She fell asleep just like that? She was literally bouncing on the balls of her feet moments ago. "Nope, JYP found me, I was more of a Butler for them at first." "Guessing Ryujin didn't like you much at first?" Jake smiled sheepishly as he ruffled his hair, " More like not at all. Pretty sure she still doesn't trust me." "You seem like a nice guy, I'm sure she'll come around." "Let's hope. Oh yeh, Y/N, there was an Idea I had that I wanted to run pass you." "Shoot." "Well, the next ITZY comeback is going to be somewhat like an old medieval or ancient kind of theme, and they will be doing some fighting scenes, both hand to hand and a small handful with weapons. Normally this would just be some cuts and maybe stunt doubles, but I was thinking, what if we actually trained them in martial arts and armed combat. It wouldn't be much, but it could be very useful to make their movements more fluid if they understood how to use the weapons." "That honestly sounds great, I think it would be a good replacement to some of the normal and mundane exercises the girls do to stay fit. Them knowing self defense could be very valuable too. What Martial arts do you want to train them in though." "Probably Wing Chun, better for smaller combatants, using the opponents force to their advantage, and it also has a very fluid fighting style." I nodded, "Alright, since the girls have been given a relatively long break before their next comeback, they'd have time for this." Jake nodded, before his right hand jabbed towards my face. For some reason, my arm instinctively raised up and deflected it, with my other arm jabbing his stomach. How did I do that? "Wow, impressive, wanted to see if it could be great to train you with the girls, but it seems like you don't need it." "I don't know how I did that Jake, I have almost never ever fought anyone." "Well, regardless, you seem to have pretty sharp instincts and good form, I think training you would be good. Wouldn't hurt for the girls to have more protection." I nodded, as I realised we had reached the dorm. I looked over at the still sleeping Yuna, as I gestured to Jake. "You handle her man, I think she likes you, the driver and I will handle the stuff." I sighed and nodded, moving over to Yuna, trying to wake her up. After about a minute of unsuccessful prodding, I sighed, I'm gonna have to carry her aren't I.

I gently slipped my arms below her, as I carried her out of the van bridal style. As I moved to the stairs that led up to the dorm, I sighed and slowly carried her up the stairs. I heard her making some noises but I just assumed she was sleep talking or something. As I brought her up to the dorm, the door was open with Jake leaving the bags and heading out, bumping into us and smirking, "Called it. See you around man." I rolled my eyes as I chuckled, nodding to him as I walked into the dorm to see Lia and Ryujin looking at me. Lia was laughing at me as Ryujin's eyes narrowed a little, "Yeji-Unnie, Chaeryoung, You're gonna want to see this." 

I stood there awkwardly with Yuna in my arms as Yeji and Chaeryoung emerged, looking at me and Yuna, a little shocked.

As silence slowly engulfed the situation, Lia burst out laughing again, saying, "Y/N, you know Yuna's awake right?" "What?" "AISH, UNNIE, why did you ruin my fun?" I heard as Yuna's head turned to look at Lia "Wha--how long were you awake?" "When you were nudging me." "SINCE THEN?" "Well of course, I saw an opportunity and I took it. It's free real estate." Yuna then leaned forward, kissing me on the cheek. "Thanks honey." She said as she jumped off my arms, heading to the kitchen with a smile on her face Yeji smirked at me. "Honey huh." "We're not dating Yeji." "NOT YET." I heard as Yuna yelled from the kitchen

Yep, this is my life now

#yuna #yuna x reader #yuna fanfic #itzy

[beardstrickland62]

Minecraft Suggestions for new Features After Version 1.20

Minecraft Suggestions for New Features Following Version 1.20

Published by Zelda 7 July 2022July 7 7, 2022

Minecraft has developed a lot since its inception, thanks to several new upgrades. Users are already anticipating version 1.20 and what it could be for the future of Minecraft even after version 1.19 was released.

The process of keeping track of suggestions is among the many community engagement initiatives that are supported by Mojang. Minecraft users can make suggestions to improve the game in future updates by using the feedback form on the developer's website. Mojang has also offered hints of possible material that could be included in future versions. Here are some of the most anticipated additions we expect to see in version 1.20.

Table of Contents

Minecraft: Suggestions for improving the features of version 1.201 2) Seasonal Variations 3) Fruit Plants 4) The Hardcore Mode in the Bedrock Edition 5) Better Emerald Crafting

Minecraft: Suggestions for new features after version 1.201)

1 Combat Modifications

Since Minecraft version 1.9 in 2016, combat has remained mostly unchanged. Some players were not happy with the results when the tactics of fighting using melee weapons were changed. Bagauc Many servers have since gone to the pre-1.9 combat system.

Mojang might want to rethink its combat system as a result of this division. Speed of clicks and recovery times are definitely worth looking into to improve the experience of fighting monsters and other players.

2 Seasonal Variations

While Minecraft's biomes have now been vastly improved, there may still be some improvements. Mojang has received numerous requests for seasonal changes. This would likely include changes in the tree's leaf color as well as weather changes based on biomes or even property changes that block the seasons.

Some of the modifications created by players have given their own perspective on the issue. Mojang could be able to take these as a model for their own round of seasonal modifications in a forthcoming release, such as version 1.20.

3) Fruit Plants

Though oak trees in Minecraft may drop apples on occasion however, there is a lot of space to improve. One option is dedicated fruit trees that can drop different fruits depending on the tree.

They are found in numerous biomes based on their climate. If they can grow the trees, this will enhance the diversity of the biomes and provide players with a steady food supply. It has been a key issue that has seen many changes in recent years. Mojang may wish to learn from their experiences.

4) The Hardcore Mode of the Bedrock Edition

Hardcore Mode was for a long time an option in Java Edition, but it was not available in Bedrock Edition. It's not a surprise that players would like to access the game mode on all platforms, given its arduous nature and thrilling thrills. Many Bedrock Edition gamers are as insistent on being placed in tough survival conditions as their Java counterparts. The absence of this mode on Bedrock platforms has been viewed as an oversight. Mojang is expected to fix this issue much sooner than expected.

5) Better Emerald Crafting

Emeralds can only be used to make blocks and trading with villager However, they are limited in applications in the current version. Many users have asked Mojang to extend the use of emeralds to include items such as swords, armor and tools. It probably wouldn't hurt to add more items that make use of emeralds a crafting component as well. This expensive stone isn't very useful due to its comparatively small usage. Mojang can make huge improvements in the quality of life by making emeralds even more valuable. This should also increase the value of emerald farms that players could use in communities.

Zelda

Hi there, Zelda is Thebiogist Media's founder and Editor-in-Chief. Prior to Establishing the company she had completed her journalism degree at The University of Texas at Austin."

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#Bagauc

[griffinericksonsaplit]

I Hate College Board with every putrid sinew and ichor in my body.

^ College Board IT fixing server boo-boos.

What kind of garbage company forces us to pay a hefty sum for a service not guaranteed, and inexplicably low quality? Casinos, subscription services, and tax firms all fit the bill, but one stands out like a necrotic thumb of corporate America. That being College Board. College Board offers the uniquely American concept of a monopolistic service bogged down and relied upon by parasitic freaks. I was told AP classes were for top of the line students who had lacerations from turning pages too much. However, what I got was a standard class with extra steps. Just a month in, I know these classes will not be as special as they were hyped up to be. Most of my AP classes avoid any College Board “service” because of how much of a waste of internet domains it is. The “remember me” button is just a suggestion as I have to login every time only to find out the new notification is the CB dangling a scholarship in my face like car keys. Plus the college board likes to tell me I’m logged in by pumping my email with junk that would make a reverse liposuction blush. By the way, you have payed more money in taxes than College Board simply because your not a multimillion dollar “NONprofit” corporation. College Board, an infamous mass of window licking, knuckle dragging, paste eaters are labeled as a 503 nonprofit. Most likely because they dangle scholarships like car keys, and donations are cheaper than taxes. They are so generous towards the economically disadvantaged too. They give the $95 dollar price tag as generous reduction of $33. Not to $33, reduced by $33. $62 for a test written by the missing link. What makes this situation even more red, white, and blue is that there are objectively better services in circulation elsewhere. Better suggestions include reallocation of taxes, Khan Academy, or removing the College Board shaped tumor all together. Even their scoring system is too unnecessary and American. While the rest of the world is switching to base ten measurements for everything, the College Boards insist on a base five scoring system. At least they aren’t scored like games of golf. Whats salt in this infected wound of education is that everyone hates the College Board. Even the College Board hates itself. If College Board aren’t a league of cowards, they will respond to this with a non-corporate apology and without empty promises.

[tusfails]

#fail #lol #wtf #Company Insists On Server Not Being Fixed #Massive Fallout Ensues

[redorich]

to those who carried on

A fic for @petrichormeraki​ and their Hermit!Tommy AU.

-------

The hermits know Tommy as a quiet young man who is very sad and contemplative. The more time they spend with him (against his will, but they know he needs the company) the more they learn of the little details. His favorite block is cobblestone, he likes building towers, and apparently his favorite woman is the Queen. They don’t ask why he wears a smiley mask even though he never seems happy. They don’t ask why he hides important things in his ender chest. They don’t ask why he wears a shattered compass on a chain about his neck.

(Once, he died in lava and lost his absolute mind. He was so upset about the compass that he didn’t even mention the stack and a half of diamond ore he had on him. Xisuma ended up manually rolling back the server just so Tommy could have it back.)

As time goes on, the tremors in Tommy's hands grow lesser. His dull blond hair seems a bit brighter, his bruises fade quicker, he doesn’t look quite so skinny-- he spends his time serenely building, resource gathering instead of running and fighting. He has a sense of humor under all that trauma, which the hermits unfortunately find out after another massive-scale prank war thought to be instigated by Grian actually turns out to be Tommy's fault.

Tommy starts swearing more. Doc gets the stink eye from Stress for this, but Doc insists he’s never once sworn around the young man. (That’s an absolute lie, but it wasn’t anything Tommy hadn’t heard before. Tommy thinks Doc is remarkably unoriginal in his cursing. He does take note of the German ones, though.)

Inviting Tommy to PvP minigames can be touchy, they learn. He likes to fight, but he fights like an animal with nothing to lose. Grian once chanted, “It stays in the pit!” and everyone present had to spend the next five minutes wrangling Tommy’s soul back into his body from wherever it’d floated off to.

Tommy likes to glide with his elytra. He claims he’s never had one before, but he flies like such a natural that a few people have their doubts. On a dark desert night, with dark blue eyes watching the night sky, he confides to Cub that it reminds him of the way his dad used to fly. He hates rockets, though. He does not confide to Cub that it reminds him of what his brother did to his best friend. He says enough that Cub can guess, though.

Scar gets fed up with Tommy’s creeper holes and makes Tommy help him fix them. At first, Tommy has no clue why Scar is breaking out things like coarse dirt and birch leaves and making the ground all fancy, but he’s not afraid of a little hard work and Scar makes it fun. He learns a lot about terraforming that day, and awkwardly comes back a few days later asking if Scar needs any more help terraforming. Tommy still hasn’t built a real base, not by Hermitcraft standards, but the small hill he’s built his dirt hut near now has a very beautiful, if amateurish, waterfall. He doesn’t tell Scar about this, but Scar finds out anyway. Tommy wakes up one morning to find that someone has left a shulker box in his house. Instead of iron-gripped paranoia, he just feels wonder that someone would give him a gift-- to the hermits, a single shulker box is nothing. To Tommy, it’s everything.

The shulker box contains coarse dirt, birch leaves, and a silk touch shovel.

Tommy helps Xisuma mine a giant hole in the ground near bedrock, because he realizes that he’s never thanked the admin for getting him his compass back. Well, that and the fact that instamining with a haste two beacon and an efficiency five pickaxe is a novelty. Xisuma lets him keep the cobble, since everyone knows it’s Tommy’s favorite block, but also insists he keep some of the other blocks like andesite and diorite. He pats Tommy on the head and tells him to talk to Bdubs about building a house some time. Tommy nods. He's taken aback by how tall Xisuma is, completely contrasting his mild nature. He reminds Tommy of Wilbur, on one of his good days before... Before. Not Ghostbur, though-- the admin is much too alive.

Tommy waits too long, so eventually Bdubs comes to him. The man is silly and outrageous, playing everything for laughs and unexpectedly tender. Bdubs plays up how beautiful he thinks Tommy’s hideous dirt shack is, then offers to help him build a house that’s better. For Tommy, building a house means settling down, accepting that this is his home now. Bdubs doesn’t know this. Tommy builds cobblestone dicks while Bdubs tries to lecture him about depth and block variation. Nothing gets done and Bdubs feels like he might have failed, but come next week Bdubs is flying over the area and sees the dicks are gone; so is the dirt house. In its place is a spruce-and-cobble cottage nestled near the tiny waterfall. Off to the side, he’s made a cozy doghouse for his fox, Theo. Bdubs doesn’t know how close that fox came to being named Fundy.

He spars with False, and she very pointedly does not mention how his stances are uniquely suited to a piglin. There’s only one renowned fighter who’s a piglin, after all. It's Tommy’s story to tell, if he ever does, why he’s seen enough of the legendary Technoblade’s fights to pick up on his stances, yet he’s not experienced enough to know that they don’t suit him. Instead, False gives him different stances suited more for tall, skinny people like the two of them. She’s got blond hair and blue eyes just like him. (Not that she’d know. She’s never seen his eyes, hidden behind his mask as they are.) Every now and then, he imagines her as an older sister, and the one time he says so, she smiles. When Tommy’s at home, looking at his own distorted reflection in his waterfall (he’s improved it since he built it), he muses that their eyes aren’t the same, their hair colors are subtly off. It’s close enough, he thinks.

Stress dies from fall damage and Tommy goes out of his way to pick up her stuff, because the hermits do these things out of the kindness of their hearts. The thought never even crosses their minds to steal. It crosses his mind. He doesn’t do it. Stealing from Stress would be like stealing from Niki.

He shows up at Cleo’s base unannounced and demands to see the “cool shit”. He is appropriately enthused by the giant armor-stand-bugs. She tries teaching him her armor stand magic, but it doesn’t really sink in. It’s okay, she assures him, most people don’t have the knack for it. He does, however, learn that buttons make excellent decorations. He also learns how to braid hair, bribed by ice cream. He is terrible at it, to the point where Joe has to come by to help the two untangle her hair so Tommy can start again. Watching the two bicker over capitalism and six million armor stands and a whole host of other inside jokes he doesn’t get, he thinks he’s starting to understand what friendship is supposed to be like. Joe and Cleo don’t see him clutching his compass. He and Tubbo weren’t too far off from this, given their circumstances. Maybe...

Maybe Tubbo can be forgiven.

Tommy makes minigames of his own, ones that don’t just kill you and steal your stuff. He builds things that are pretty instead of just functional, brews potions with Stress and only calls them drugs once (again, upsetting her is like upsetting Niki. Best not done), and sets up chicken bombs above people’s bases instead of just lavacasting them. (As Grian saw the hundreds of chickens slowly raining down upon his mansion, he got such a peculiar look on his face that Tommy feared he’d fucked up. The shorter, stronger (much stronger oh god why is he so strong despite being so small) man nearly crushed Tommy’s lungs in a hug, proclaiming how proud he was of Tommy. Tommy was proud of himself for not accidentally murdering Grian out of reflex. Was this what healing was like?)

Yes. It is what healing is like. Tommy knows this because that wound gets ripped open again. Tango shows him how to build the most obnoxious redstone-powered noise machine the two can think of. Tango digs a small pit, and asks Tommy to throw down his axe. Suddenly, Tommy’s in Logstedshire again; it’s not Tango asking, it’s Dream. His hands don’t shake when he tosses his axe into the pit, followed by his sword and his armor. It isn't until he’s placed the TNT down that Tango grabs his wrist and asks him what he’s doing. Tommy’s eyes clear enough that he can see past the blond hair and freckles. Tango isn’t green, he’s red. He's shorter than Dream, and his worried eyes are unhidden. Tommy shudders, then tells Tango everything.

Tango has no pity for Tommy, just understanding and sympathy. He doesn’t push Tommy to talk about it, but when Tommy’s done telling his story, Impulse and Zedaph show up. They all pretend that Tommy’s voice isn’t hoarse, that they all didn’t conveniently happen to look away when Tommy took off his mask just long enough to wipe his eyes. The men bake a cake together, fool around with honey blocks, and don’t talk about it.

Tommy knows very little about redstone, considers himself more of a builder and a fighter than an engineer. Still, Mumbo’s living base is inspiring, and Tommy often hangs around the man’s industrial district just to watch Mumbo work. Mumbo knows that Tommy hasn’t purchased a day pass, but it’s nice having someone around to talk to while he works. It’s not like Tommy is stealing anything. (Tommy totally steals from Mumbo’s industrial district storage system. The man’s farms are so efficient that he doesn’t even notice, so Tommy assumes it’s fine. What Mumbo doesn’t know won’t hurt him.)

Lava still isn’t his favorite thing in the world. He stays far away from it, instead of imagining what it would be like to hurtle towards it. Ren doesn’t really notice this, but he does notice that Tommy doesn’t seem to like his mustafarian base. On a spur-of-the-moment whim, Ren whips up some absurd plotline in which he is a lone weary traveller seeking refuge at Tommy’s base from strange alien overlords. The two have fun together, and the young man cracks more absurd jokes about it than the hermits have ever seen him do. When Ren leaves a week later to return to his own base, Tommy keeps being absurd, if a bit more subdued without someone to play off of. He builds a shrine to the “prime log”, which grows more elaborate each day. Beef and xB pretend to be his acolytes, despite having no clue what a “twitch prime” is.

They can’t see his face, but the smile in his voice is a far cry from the despondency he once wore like a heavy cloak. He is so much more animated and alive, full of motivation. He builds an entire island in three days, and hand-delivers an invitation to each and every hermit for his beach party. Everyone shows up, even those with packed schedules (Iskall) and those with introverted tendencies (Etho). Tommy is nearly moved to tears when they show up in groups of twos and threes, as though he hadn’t expected anyone to come. There aren’t enough chairs for everyone, but there is more than enough cake to go around. Tango brings drinks, Impulse brings meat to barbecue, and Zedaph makes an elaborate jump-powered grill. Keralis brings way too much confetti and several handfuls of cheap, obnoxious party noisemakers. Stress brings Tommy a crown made out of alliums. It shines far less than his brother’s gold crown, and it’ll die in a few days, but he wears it all night and keeps it in his ender chest until it withers away.

He spends five days teaching himself to make flower crowns. Even his best attempt is awful, nowhere near as pretty as the crowns Stress makes, but when he gives it to her, she takes off the one she was wearing and wears his until it falls apart.

He dies fighting a creeper on Grian’s behalf, and doesn’t even panic, because he trusts that however many times he dies, no matter how stupid or ignominious or revolutionary or important, Xisuma will always let him respawn.

He spends a grand total of nine diamonds to buy a single plot of land in the shopping district. He builds a cute little bench facing the sunset, with warmly glowing street lights on either side and a small garden. At the end of the bench he places a jukebox, and buys every single disc that Beef’s music shop sells, including Pigstep. He sits on the bench while Mellohi plays and watches the tiny silhouettes of his friends flying in the evening sky. Tommy looks alone on that bench, even if he seems happy, so sometimes other people stop by to sit with him. Scar declares the bench area a public park, since everyone likes it so much, and refunds Tommy his nine diamonds straight from the throne.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #tommyinnit #xisumavoid #grian #docm77 #stressmonster101 #cubfan135 #tubbo #technoblade #goodtimeswithscar #wilbur soot #ghostbur #bdubs #fundy #itsfundy #falsesymmetry #zombiecleo #joe hills #nihachu #tango tek #impulsesv #zedaph #dreamwastaken #mumbo jumbo #rendog #vintagebeef #xbcrafted

[onecanonlife]

Tommy is dead. The server reacts.

(word count: 1,732)

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

“What have you done?”

His voice is a reedy whisper, thin with horror and the realization that he is too little, too late. He doesn’t expect the sound to carry over the lava, but a response comes soon enough.

“He wouldn’t stop talking. And he killed the cat.”

Dream’s voice is even, calm, almost a bit defensive, as if he truly believes that he is justified in his actions. Sam swallows down his mounting nausea, places his trident against the floor to steady himself. The lava crackles, hisses, bubbles, orange and glowing, and he can’t cross it. Not now. Not when the security threat remains unresolved. Not when any wrong move on his part could very well mean Dream’s escape.

But he’s already made the wrong move, hasn’t he? Made the wrong move, and Tommy has paid for it. Has been paying for it, this whole last week. He kept him in there, kept him locked in a box with Dream even though he knows very well how it would effect him, kept him locked in with the reasoning that it was temporary, that he would let him out as soon as he could, that he couldn’t risk Dream’s release for anyone, even for Tommy.

But it’s not temporary.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed when Sam last saw him, when he said that this would be the last time, that he was going to put his past behind him and look to a new start. Tommy will always be sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed, and locked in a box. There will be no new start. No seventeenth birthday. No triumphant return, no shining hotel. No tricks, no scams, no pranks.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed. Tommy is dead.

He can’t even get his body.

He can’t even get his body.

Sam stands on the edge of a curtain of lava, staring into the orange glow that hides a monster in a room that is now a child’s pre-made coffin, and he wonders if he is a monster himself.

***

“He’s fine.”

It’s the only thing to say. The only truth. The only possibility. Sure, the message is there, glaring up from his communicator in bright yellow letters, but it’s not real. It’s a joke of some kind, a trick. Something to fake everyone out. Maybe Sam’s in on it, too. Tommy must be going crazy in there, to think that this would actually be funny, but it sounds like something he would do.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo says, and then stops. Nothing else. His face is pale, though things like that are hard to tell, with him, considering that half his face is always pale. But he’s gone an ashy-grey sort of color, and it doesn’t look great.

“He’s not dead,” he says, and laughs a bit. “Tommy wouldn’t just die like that. That’d be ridiculous.”

Tommy’s death would never be so meek. Tommy’s death, when it happens, will be a spectacle, a dramatic showing with speeches and explosions and the sun rising at just the right time and haloing his hair, because TommyInnit deserves nothing less than the best death scene. Women wailing and the like. So Tommy is not dead, because if Tommy were dead, that would mean that he died alone, in the company of no one but his murderer, that he died scared, trapped in a small space with no way out, that he died without Tubbo by his side.

“Right,” Ranboo says, and his voice is doing a peculiar thing that Tubbo can’t quite work out. “Yeah, of course. Do you wanna—do you think we should go check it out? Go stop by the prison?”

“What for?” he asks. “Sam’s not going to let us in. He didn’t even when I built a dick on top of it.”

And here is another thing: Tommy can’t be dead because it was never supposed to be Tommy first. Tubbo has tried to live without him, and he found it very hard. So Tommy is not allowed to die before Tubbo does. That is the rule that he keeps locked up in his heart, because Tommy would be upset if he knew about it. But it’s a rule that Tubbo intends to follow, so Tommy can’t be dead.

That would be against the rules.

“Just to see?” Ranboo tries. Tubbo’s not sure why he’s being so insistent about this.

“Nah, we’ve got a hotel to build,” he says. “C’mon.”

Ranboo follows along behind him. His feet drag, like he’s reluctant. But Tubbo has long since given up on understanding why Ranboo does the things that he does.

***

He’s dead.

She should be glad about it. This is what she wanted. Tommy dead, punished for all the pain and suffering he’s caused everyone else. No longer able to start wars, to cause harm, to blaze his way through the server and leave a path of destruction in his wake.

Tommy is dead. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

There is a message from Jack. She doesn’t check it.

Tommy is dead, that blue-eyed, wide-grinned boy who followed along on his brother’s coattails. Tommy is dead, that fiery spirit crushed and his overbearing, fast-talking voice silent. Tommy is dead, that loyal friend, the protector and defender of all that he called his, the fighter, the scammer, the boy who loved with all of his heart and then some.

Tommy is dead. Dead, dead, dead. There is no coming back from dead. Dead is final. Dead is an ending. Dead means it’s all over. Tommy is over. Tommy is gone. Tommy will never grow old.

It’s what she wanted. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

Niki brings her hand to her mouth to check. It’s a smile. A smile, for sure.

Her fingers come away from her face wet.

***

It was an empty castle already, but it feels emptier now. The different between a possibility and its lack, they suppose.

Tommy was never supposed to die. They can’t fathom it, somehow. Can’t fathom that it’s real, that Tommy will never grace these halls again. They’d finally begun to fix things, begun to work toward redemption, well and truly. And now Tommy is gone.

Eret grips their communicator tightly in their hand.

“I’m sorry,” they murmur to no one at all.

It was never meant to be echoes in their head, over and over and over again, an apology that means nothing but so much scattered dust.

***

He closes his eyes. Breathes. In and out.

This happens. People die. They die, and they leave, and he’s left behind. That’s his life. That’s how it is.

It still hurts, when it happens. He’s still learning how to make it not hurt. Still learning how not to be angry, that people find it so easy to abandon him. That people find it so easy to go where he can’t follow. Wilbur first, now Tommy, and he doesn’t have anyone left, really.

But it’s fine. It’s alright. He can manage on his own. He always has.

Fundy decides to go to bed early.

***

He takes a moment to breathe. To process. To absorb.

To regret, for what might have been.

The voices in his head call for blood, as they always do, but he will not give them the satisfaction. Not this time. The blood he wants most is not readily accessible, and he will not put himself in the position of confronting the favor owed. Not now. Not like this. Not ever, if he can help it, though he knows that these sorts of things always take their due, always steal their pound of flesh.

“I know, chat,” he says. “You can all shut up, I know.”

It doesn’t appease them. He wasn’t expecting it to.

Tommy is dead. Tommy is dead, and their relationship with it. Any tentative attempts toward repairs have been left to rot, to burn on the funeral pyre. Theseus, fallen from the cliff at long last.

The story was always going to end this way. No one can stop the Fates from severing the string.

He stands with a groan. He is not built for this weather, for this cold, and it is a wonder that he keeps being drawn to it, time and time again. It is a balm, he thinks, but for what, he doesn’t know. For nothing, at the moment, as the voices threaten to crowd out all the rest. But he can’t deal with them right now.

Phil has his own house, now, and a bridge to connect the two. A bridge over still water, such that Tommy will never cross. He should not feel the way he does. Tommy betrayed him. Tommy used him. Tommy discarded him, so he tossed him aside in turn.

But once they were called brothers. Does it mean anything, in the end?

Phil is standing in the middle of the floor, ruined wings on full display. His face is blank, his communicator held loosely in one hand.

“Phil,” he says.

“I failed him,” Phil says. “I should’ve been there for him, and I wasn’t.”

Technoblade has no comfort for the truth.

But he has comfort for his friend, for his friend who is perhaps his father but is definitely family, so he stretches out his arms and catches Phil as he falls, falls and falls and screams, and it is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, because Daedalus tried to catch his son and failed. It is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, so he cannot try again and ruin the rest of himself, too.

***

He nudges the body with his foot.

“You shouldn’t have killed that cat,” he murmurs. The body does not reply, and he sighs.

Tommy’s face is beyond recognition. The blood coats his knuckles. He hopes that there’s enough water in the sink to wash it out before it sets. He hates it when the blood sets.

He didn’t mean to go as far as he did. That doesn’t mean much, in the end. This will work just as well.

He is a god, after all. He is a god, and he will have what he deserves, and more besides.

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” he says. “I’ll make a believer out of you yet.”

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #tommyinnit #awesamdude #dreamwastaken #tubbo #technoblade #philza #niki nihachu #eret #ranboo #fundy #dsmp spoilers #/rp #once again i speedran writing this so it's not edited #forgive any typos or weird wording i just have too many feelings #cat writes fic

[rocorambles]

Perks of the Job

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Rape, Bullying, Coercion, Abuse/Violence, Sexual Assault, Degradation

Prompt: “I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

Summary: You realize far too late that you should have read the fine print of your job contract, questioned the golden egg that had fallen in your lap a little more as you stand face to face with the man you thought you had left far behind in your life. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Sunday, December 6th!) 

Big thank you to @sawamooora for beta-reading this~  

Even by his first year of high school, Oikawa is used to the attention, used to girls smiling and giggling at just a well practiced wink he sends their way. And although no one catches his interest, he thrives on the power he feels, the way he knows he has people so easily wrapped around his fingers with just a few rehearsed lines and a dash of his natural charm. So he’s surprised when he first encounters you. 

Unlike everyone else, you don’t even pause as you pass him in the hallway, don’t even bother to turn for a quick look in his direction.  Unlike like every other female, you keep your face focused forward and continue to class, completely tuning out the gaggle of giggling girls he has surrounding him. And suddenly his interest is peaked as he watches your retreating figure, a sharp gleam in his eyes and a new conquest in sight. 

He uses every trick in the book at first, shooting coy smiles and flirtatious winks your way, cheerfully greeting you each morning at the front gates and walking you right to the doorway of your classroom, sometimes lingering around to exchange small talk if there was time before class started. You’re polite about it, although a bit hesitant, unsure what about you has caught his interest, uncomfortable with the glowering attention you’re receiving from the females around you, but he grits his teeth in frustration when you never reciprocate with anything more than a small smile and superficial words. 

There’s only so long that one can keep a facade, even if it is almost like a second skin and bit by bit, Oikawa’s sheep-like fleece weathers down until snarling fangs and bared teeth are all that remains. You wince as he sharply tugs at your hair, glare as he purposefully knocks the items off your desk onto the floor, and lash out at him to his amusement when he repeatedly closes your locker on you. And although there’s bitterness inside of him that he’s had to resort to such uncouth methods, he can’t help the self satisfied smile when he has all your attention, when your rage filled eyes are locked on him and him alone, when you’re spitting venomous snarls just for him to hear. 

So, he’s quite displeased when third year comes around and suddenly it’s like everyone’s biological clock has suddenly started to rapidly tick. Things are different now that they’ve officially entered adulthood. 

His fangirls are touchier, more clingy, and although he rolls his eyes as they purposefully hike up their skirt and press their bodies against him when they talk, he doesn’t pull away. It wouldn’t be good for his image. And besides, being an adult means having fun doesn’t it? 

So, to the dismay of Iwaizumi and the hoots and hollers of Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he has his fun, sneaking girl after girl into the locker room, the club room, even the equipment room. 

But what infuriates him the most is the way seemingly every male suddenly has their eyes on you, the way your locker is filled to the brim on a daily basis with love notes, the way you’re now always surrounded by a flock of groveling boys all clamoring for your attention, the way he can’t even get close enough to do anything to you anymore, the way you seem to forget he even exists.

And that’s unacceptable. 

He sends his fangirls to do his bidding and although it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s not the one personally wreaking havoc in your life, when he doesn’t get to see the look of pain and anger in your eyes up close and personal, there’s still a sense of contentment when he sees your tear stained eyes and ruined uniform from afar, the way you seem to shrink in on yourself in shame and embarrassment when you come out of the women’s locker room, the restroom, places only other female students can get to you, where there are no other eyes to protect you. 

But his nails dig into his palms as his fists clench when he sees his fellow male classmates bending over backwards to comfort you, to help you, draping their uniform jackets over your shoulders to hide your disheveled uniform, cooing at your injuries as they gently lead you to the nurse’s office.

And if there’s anything Oikawa hates in the world, it’s losing.

He slams his fist in frustration as he feels you slipping further and further away from him, as he loses against Ushijima, as he loses against Kageyama, as he loses any chance of seeing his dreams of Nationals come true, as he loses in everything that ever mattered to him.

Maybe that’s why he drinks far more than he should at the third year house party, an early graduation party of sorts, a last hurrah before all of you go your separate ways. Maybe that’s why when he sees you, his eyes narrow in determination as he chugs the rest of his drink, despite Iwaizumi’s growl at him to slow down his intake. Maybe that’s why he seeks you out like a bloodhound looking for prey that it’s caught wind of. 

And all he can think of as he corners you in an abandoned section of the house, forcing your body against the wall, feeling you helplessly push against him, watching fear and confusion fill your eyes, is that he needs a win - just one win. 

But of course life has different plans for him and just as he’s shoved his legs between your thighs, just as one of his hands has slipped underneath your shirt to roughly knead one of your breasts, just as he’s crushed his lips against yours in something far too brutal to be considered a kiss, he’s being torn away from you. It’s only Iwaizumi’s familiar voice and face that keeps the ace from getting punched in the face as he snarls at Oikawa to get the fuck away from you and sober up. And all Oikawa sees is red when he briefly glances back once more before turning the corner, only to see his own best friend kindly hovering next to you, gently taking care of you and fixing your clothes for you, an uncharacteristic softness in green eyes as he looks at you. 

Betrayal like he’s never felt before suffocates him as he watches the two of you tentatively begin to dance around each other in an awkward yet endearing courtship. He watches as he loses his best friend, watches as he loses the only woman who’s ever caught his interest, watches as the two of you walk off into your fairytale sunset together, hand in hand, never even glancing back at him as you both go off on your merry way together. 

He’s not proud of the cruel smile that naturally stretches across his face when he hears that the two of you have broken up years later, a brief comment that Hanamaki slips into one of their happy hour catch-ups as the ex-Seijoh third years share a bottle (maybe a few bottles) of sake. But he fakes a look of concern and consolement, trying to conceal his curiosity as he lightly questions Iwaizumi about the break-up, airily asking what the reason was. 

And he secretly grins as he excuses himself to the restroom when he thinks about the depressed slump of the ex-ace’s shoulders, the downcast look on his face. He cherishes his dear friend, but it’s nice to see someone suffer the same way he had, to share the pain of loss, to share the agony of losing you specifically.  

But maybe lost things are meant to be found, he thinks, as he scans the resume handed to him when he enters his office the next morning, chocolate brown eyes gleaming when they see the familiar name neatly typed on the top of the page.  

You're desperate. 

After Iwaizumi and you had broken up, you had insisted on moving out and living on your own. Never mind the fact that Iwaizumi was paying for the majority of your old rent. Never mind the fact that you don't make nearly enough income to survive on your own. You had just wanted a clean break from the handsome man who had been such a large integral part of your life and despite the small part of you that pleaded to give this relationship another chance, to take him up on his offer to stay with him until you're in a better place to support yourself, you packed your bags and left. 

And now here you are, living in an awful part of town, sirens blaring every few minutes, struggling to pay rent for the old decrepit studio that's barely big enough to fit even just your modestly sized bed. But you determinedly make do, putting on your one nice interview outfit and applying your makeup as best as you can despite the cracked bathroom mirror and flickering lights, before taking a deep breath and exiting your apartment. 

You're not even sure how you landed an interview at such a prestigious company. Although being a secretary for one of their higher ups doesn't exactly sound like your dream job, when you saw what the salary range was, you leapt at the opportunity. Screw your pride. If faking a smile and acting like a glorified maid for a disgusting old man meant you were finally able to   afford a decent quality life? So be it. 

Nerves eat at you and your heart pounds as you anxiously wait for the interview to begin, but you're shocked when an employee steps inside the room only to distractedly ask you generic questions, questions you're sure just about anyone could answer, not even pretending to pay attention as he fiddles with his phone in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if this is a good or bad sign. Were you so unqualified that you were just a waste of time? Why even bother bringing you in for an interview if they had intended to turn you away right from the start?

But to your surprise when the quick and simple questioning is done, the interviewer just stands up with a smile and nonchalantly tells you that they'd be in touch soon. And true to his words, your cell phone rings not even a few hours later that same day and you gape as they extend an offer to you with a salary even higher than you had ever imagined, which you eagerly accept, not a trace of doubt or hesitation in your mind. 

You meekly follow the friendly receptionist who leads you through the intimidatingly large office, the smell of coffee and the sounds of keyboards clacking and voices chattering swirling around you as you’re led further and further until you’re finally facing a solitary office, far from the bustling crowd of the main floor, reeking of status and power. And you force a tight smile on your face as you’re left alone, taking a deep breath before timidly knocking and opening the door when a voice beckons you in. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you and if you were jittery before at the prospect of a new job and a new boss, then you’re positively shaking now, trembling like a leaf in the wind when you see a face you hoped you would never see ever again, a face that still haunts you to this day, that brings back painful memories of a tormented childhood. And you wonder if you should quit right here, right now, cursing yourself for not asking more questions about exactly who your employer was, who you’d be working side by side with as their executive assistant. 

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t register the tall figure approaching you, head whipping when your name is called in that lilted sing song voice of his and you shudder as familiar brown eyes gaze down at you. 

“Oikawa…”

He smiles at your shivering figure and your frenzied wide eyes when you register exactly who you’re now working for. Pride soaring in his chest when he sees the impact he still has, the effect he still has on you, even after all these years. And he can’t help but circle around your frozen figure, admiring how you’ve grown and matured since he’d last seen you, purring at the way you instinctively lower your head in unconscious submission, not daring to meet his eyes as he closes his office door, flinching at the sound of the lock clicking in place. 

It just wouldn’t do for anyone to interrupt such a special reunion.  

You’re so predictable, it’s almost laughable. Oikawa has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he leans back against the closed door, blocking your one escape route out of this hell hole you’ve gotten yourself trapped in. It’s amusing listening to you stutter out some feeble attempt at a resignation, listening to you try to convince yourself and him that this must be a mistake, that surely you’re someone else’s secretary, not his, never his. And as cute as it is watching denial and pure terror dance across your face, he tires of your endless blathering and he maliciously grins at how quick you are to snap to attention and silence yourself when he barks at you to shut up. 

But what he isn’t expecting is the sudden fire in your eyes, the resolved steeliness in your demeanor as you glare at him head on and maybe it’s a good thing that you’d spent so much time with Iwaizumi because this is going to be so much more fun than he could have possibly imagined. 

The wolf inside of him gnashes his teeth and howls in amusement as you furiously give him a piece of your mind, rebuke him for how horrible and awful he was throughout highschool, haughtily tell him that this is the real world now and that you’re not going to let him just walk all over you, let him do whatever he wants. In fact, you’re leaving right now. You don’t need him or this stupid job. 

And his grin sharpens as you hold your head up high while you make your way towards him and the door, not even hesitating as you move to shove him aside. But then he pounces and you can’t even scream as you’re suddenly shoved down, gasping as you painfully hit the ground. 

He has to give you some credit though. Clearly dating an athletic trainer has done you some good and he winces just a bit as you thrust your knee into his abdomen, surprised by the force behind it. But the pain only fuels him more, the sharp pang grounding him, helping him concentrate as he pries apart your legs, his knees achingly pressing down into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs as he puts all his weight on top of you, chuckling when you wail at how his kneecaps painfully pin you down. 

And he almost coos proudly at you as you try to sit up, as you try to support your upper body off the ground with your forearms and hands, as you try to find some leverage to get yourself out of your undesirable position. But all it takes is him digging his knee even further into your bruised leg and with a yelp you fall back down, snarling at him with pretty tears welling in the corner of your eyes as he leans forward, pinning you fully with his arms now trapping your wrists on the floor on either side of your head.

“Don’t be like this, cutie. You’re the one who accepted the job. Not my fault you were too dumb to even look into it carefully. But I guess a dumb bitch is always a dumb bitch.”

He smirks at the way his cruel words have you twisting and writhing underneath him with renewed fervor, but like an animal sensing that it’s nearing its end, you surprise him with a last vehement action as you spit in his face when your futile struggle falls flat. And as the thick glob slides down his face, his facade cracks and a sharp cracking sound pierces through the air before you’re suddenly seeing stars as heat rushes through your face from the impact of his palm. 

“Listen to me. You’re going to shut the fuck up and behave. You’re going to stay as my secretary. You’re going to do every fucking thing I tell you to do. You know why? Because I own you. I  could ruin your entire life with a single phone call - with the snap of my fingers. Your entire career, over, with just a single email. Good luck trying to afford even your shitty little apartment when you’re blacklisted from every corporation in this city.”

Oikawa hums in satisfaction when you finally still, fear and uncertainty twirling in your eyes as your bottom lip begins to tremble, liquid pooling in your tear ducts as you shakily stare at him. But he outright laughs in your face when you latch onto your one last hope. 

“Hajime! I’ll tell Haji-”

You break off into a squeal when sharp teeth bury into the crook of your neck, tears streaming down your face as Oikawa leaves a mark that will last for at least a few days and you cringe at the feeling of his warm wet tongue tasting you, staining you. 

“Iwa-chan? I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now. Would he trust his longtime childhood friend, his best friend who he still talks to and hangs out with almost everyday, especially now that you’ve left him all alone? Or would he trust the woman who broke his heart, who led him on for so many years, only to tell him you just “weren’t feeling it” anymore when he was about to propose?” 

He lets out a derisive snort at the hurt in your eyes, the guilt he can practically see smothering you at his words. 

“It’s okay, cutie. Of course you weren’t feeling it with Iwa-chan. You were just waiting for me all this time, right? So don’t worry. Relax. Let me make you feel good and make up for all the lost time, okay?”

And he beams when you don’t even resist in the slightest as he removes your clothing, as he hungrily explores every inch of you, calloused fingertips, lips, teeth, and tongue tracing every bit of you, tasting and feeling everything that’s been out of reach for so long. 

A victorious grin spreads across his face at the slight moan you try to quickly muffle as he drags a wet trail to your nipples, tongue lightly flicking the hardening bud before his lips swoop in and harshly suck. He groans as your hips instinctively buck when his hand begins to toy with your other nipple and he grinds his straining cock against you. 

But he lets out an irritated tsk as your hands feebly push at him, as your quivering voice begs him to stop, quickly silencing you with a rough twist of the nipple between his fingers and a feral warning look as he slides down his pants and boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring out. 

And he briefly relishes the way your watery eyes are suddenly captivated by the sight of his impressive length. A sick sense of pride bubbles in his chest at the way you nervously gulp when he lines himself up with your entrance. You barely even have time to blink before he’s brutally slamming himself to the hilt inside of you with one rough thrust. 

He hisses at how tight and warm you are, grits his teeth at the feeling of your nails clawing at his back and arms as he slams himself even deeper. Your pathetic cries make him even harder as you desperately scramble to accommodate his size. 

He drowns himself in the intoxicating feeling of your walls clamping down on him, the sound of your strangled voice screaming his name mixing with the clapping sound of skin meeting skin as he pistons in and out of you relentlessly, starting a brutal pace right from the start, ignoring the terror and hurt laced in your screams as he hones in on your sweet voice repeating his name over and over again, hones in on the fact that every ounce of your attention is on him, that he’s all you can think of and feel in the moment and he wishes this moment could last forever. 

But that’s impossible and he can feel his end approaching, his rhythm becoming erratic, his body tensing, and with a few more slams of his hips against yours, he’s spilling deep inside of you, moaning as he makes a mess of your insides, careful not to let even a single drop escape as he pulls out and quickly slips your panties back on you, trapping his essence inside of you. 

You’re still limp on the floor as he stands up, casually stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before tucking himself back into his pants, brushing himself off as he makes his way to his desk. And he hums as he turns on his computer, not even glancing at the pathetic sight you make, sprawled out, naked aside from the pair of panties he had generously helped you with, your face a mess of dried tears and saliva, your hair a tousled mess. 

But you flinch when he finally speaks as you muster the will to slowly dress yourself, the will to ignore the pounding ache and dripping mess between your legs, his carefree tone tearing your self-esteem to shreds as he just continues typing emails all the while. 

“Hurry up and get to work. That’s what you’re getting paid for after all. You can consider what just happened a perk of the job and I’ll be sure to give you a lot of extra bonuses while you’re with me. Looking forward to working together.” 

Bile rises in your throat at his flippant words and the flirtatious wink he sends your way. For a second you hesitate, staring longingly at the locked door. But even with your back turned to him, you can still feel his piercing gaze boring holes into your soul. You know deep down in your gut that his threat isn’t just empty words, that as hard as life is now, it would be complete and utter hell the moment you stepped out of his office without his permission. You know that in the end, you’d be left with no other option than to come crawling back to him, groveling for mercy when your bank account is running on less than empty, when you’re forced out onto the streets. 

So, as humiliating as it is, you limp over to the smaller desk situated in the corner of the office, every step a crushing blow to your self worth and pride, grimacing as you begin to feel something thick and sticky threaten to leak from between your thighs. And you obediently sit, blinking back the tears as you turn on your own company-issued laptop, shifting uncomfortably as your aching body comes in contact with the solid surface of your chair, raising the ringing phone to your ear. 

“This is Oikawa Tooru’s office. How may I help you?” 

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu yandere #yandere oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: noncon #tw: rape #tw: bullying #tw: coercion

[mikrowrites]

cottages of constellations

c!wilbur x f!reader

warnings: angst, fluffy flashbacks, arson, character death

summary: there’s a place only known by two people, full of sweet memories and domesticity. but the world isn’t sweet anymore, and sometimes violence is the only universal language. rather, Sophie visits the cottage she and Wilbur shared before the war, and is met by an unlikely guest.

might make a part two w doomsday and revivebur, we shall see...

Y/n sighed, sitting upon her horse as the wind blew across the grassy field. Smoke still rose behind her from fires still not put out long after the destruction, the girl shaking her head to try and absolve the memory from her head.

She gripped the reins, goading the horse to move, Y/n riding across the field. She knew where she needed to go, she knew the coordinates by heart.

No one else knew about the cottage, just two people, and one of them... well, he’s dead. There’s no sugar coating that. It resided far from the server, a little place just for the two of them.

After a few hours, with the sun rising behind, Y/n rode into the woods. She kept going forwards until she reached the river, stopping the horse. She looked forwards, pursing her lips.

The cottage.

“This is the perfect place!”

Wilbur jumped off his horse, pointing to the small clearing along the river.

“You think so?” Y/n asked, walking up beside him to stare at the landscape.

“Of course.” He emphasized. “But of course perfect is wherever you are.”

Y/n scoffed. “Jesus, that was cheesy.”

Wilbur laughed, running down the landscape towards the small clearing. He turned back, smiling.

“Hey, are you coming?”

Y/n tied her horse to a lead, patting it in thanks before moving forwards, approaching the cottage.

It looked frozen in time, from when Y/n had left it to help fight for L’manburg. The flowers still looked kept, the farm out back unharvested. She smiled as she approached the cottage, taking in the blooming flowers.

“It’s a surprise, so no looking.”

“Okay, okay!” Y/n allowed Wilbur to lead her over outside the cottage.

Wilbur stopped. “Okay, you can look.”

Y/n opened her eyes, walking over to peer at several brightly colored flowers planted around the cottage’s exterior. The hues painted the landscape, causing her jaw to drop at the beauty.

“Do you like it?” Wilbur nervously asked, Y/n whipping her head around to cast him a bright smile.

“I love it, Wilbur.”

Y/n pushed the oak door open, the hinges creaking. She let out a few coughs as dust invaded her senses, stepping into the cottage. the lanterns were flickered out, pots of plants and flowers left withered and dead.

She walked past a set of bookshelves, running her fingers across the spines of the books.

Wilbur and Y/n sat together, books in each of their hands as they read and relish each other’s company. A kettle of water was being heated in the kitchen, the sun filtering through the windows.

Y/n flipped a page, not noticing as Wilbur’s eyes lifted from the pages to her face, studying every bit of her. A soft smile crossed his face as he studied her soft green eyes, the bridge of her nose, her eyebrows that were furrowed in concentration.

Suddenly her eyes flicked up, Wilbur’s face going red. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing! Nothing, no, not at all, no, uh—“Wilbur smiled sheepishly. “You’re... you’re just so ethereal right now.”

It was Y/n’s turn to blush as she tried to hide her cheeks behind the book, the boy laughing.

Y/n grasped a rung of the ladder in her hand, sighing for a moment before pulling herself up. Each step up the ladder her heart quickened, her lips trembled.

She climbed into the loft area, her breath catching in her throat.

The bed was still perfectly made from the day she left it. The sunset reflected perfectly into the room from the large glass window, casting the room into a beautiful orange hue. Y/n turned and saw the chest in the corner, the sight bringing her to her knees.

The letters.

“I’ll write you so many letters, Y/n/n!” Wilbur insisted, grasping her hands. “Every day! Until you can join me, we can send those letters.”

Y/n nodded eagerly. “I’ll miss you, Wil.”

The boy pulled her into an embrace, the girl burying her face in his shirt. He smiled, tracing circles into her back comfortingly. “A letter a day for you, until we see each other again.”

And a letter a day she received.

The letters came daily, some recalling the events of the day, some poems, some love letters. Y/n read each letter enthusiastically, hearing of Wilbur’s adventures and the people he encountered. The nation he was creating, L’manburg.

Then, after receiving a letter detailing the start of the war for L’manburg, Y/n packed her bag, took her horse, and left for the server. She fought alongside Wilbur and the others, resisting for independence.

Y/n’s hands trembled as she sifted through and read each letter, the open pieces of parchment cast about the floor in front of her. Her heart ached as she read the words of a man whom she had lost so long ago, so long before his death. The Wilbur that had wrote Y/n songs and poems declaring his love and admiration had died in that war, leaving a man she could hardly recognize.

The orange glow of the sun was fading from the room, darkening the inside of the cottage. Y/n felt tears gather in her eyes as she finished reading the last letter, two teardrops pattering on the wood floor. The letter fluttered from her hand onto the ground with the rest, the girl wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She stood, looking out the window and noting how night was fast approaching. Y/n frowned, reaching into her pocket to produce a box of matches, walking over the the bedside lantern to light it. She struck the match, the flame igniting, lighting the lantern.

Y/n went to shake out the match before freezing, her eyes fixed upon the yellow light of the small flickering flame.

The fire crackled softly as melodic guitar chords filled the night with sweet music. The river rushed by near them, as well as the sounds of the rustling leaves in the wind, creating an orchestra of soothing sounds.

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes and resting her head against Wilbur’s shoulder as he strummed the guitar. They sat on a blanket in front of the fire, one of Wilbur’s coats draped over the girl’s shoulders.

Peace. Both felt total and complete peace.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” Y/n mused, staring up at the stars.

“Maybe, someday, we will. We’ll just lay and chart constellations.” Wilbur responded confidently.

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes and letting the sounds of Wilbur’s guitar and the campfire lull her to sleep.

“I’d like that.”

The lit match felt heavy between Y/n’s fingers, the girl sitting amongst the countless letters once more. Night had fallen, the stars dotting the sky. Y/n stared out at the stars, catching sight of constellations and clouds and the moon.

She reached for a letter, parting her lips.

“You lied to me.”

Y/n stood once more and let the letter meet the match, the paper going up in flames. She dropped it, the flaming parchment falling to the floor and igniting the rest of the precious letters that could have redeemed Wilbur.

She stepped back, watching as flames set to the wood of the room, the bed, the carpet. The girl spared the room one last look before climbing down the ladder, throwing the match onto the bookshelf, and walking out of the cottage. Y/n walked backwards, watching as surely the cottage was caught in a fury of flames.

Y/n finally let herself breathe, exhaling deeply as if a weight had lifted off her chest. She watched her old home burn, finally feeling a sense of finality.

“You sure did a number on that house.”

Her eyes widened, spinning and quickly unsheathing her sword and raising it to the person behind her’s neck. Y/n’s eyes hardened, glaring at the unwanted visitor.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” She spat.

She could almost see Dream’s smile from under his mask. “Wilbur sure did love his secrets. Was will to impart a few to me in exchange for some TNT. I figured you might be here.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “He... he told you about the cottage?”

“Y/n... he told me everything.” Dream responded. She slowly lowered her sword, stepping away from Dream. “I understand everything now. Your blind devotion to him, the loyalty. The server that drove him to betray that trust.”

“You did.” Y/n insisted. “You drove him to his death. You caused all of this.”

“Wilbur made his own decisions.” Dream shrugged. “And as I can see now, so can you.”

Y/n turned to look back at the fire. “So, you’re here to kill me then, yeah?”

“No, I’m not.” Dream quickly replied, Y/n looking back at him. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

“An offer? What the hell does that mean?” She scoffed.

Dream approached her. “They’re rebuilding L’Manburg as we speak. They never learn, they never understand. They call Wilbur insane, yet maybe he was the most sane of us all. He saw and understood the truth, and that scared them. So here’s what I offer you, Y/n. Help me take them down. I’ll pay you a good price.”

“What could you pay me that’s worth my time?” Y/n raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms.

Dream reached into his pocket, throwing a few netherite ingots and several diamonds onto the grass in front of her. Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, looking up at him. “There’s so much more where this came from. And better yet,” Dream tilted his head slightly as he held a bundle of fabric to her, the brown shades and patches so very familiar; Wilbur’s coat. “you can finish what Wilbur started.”

Y/n stared wordlessly at the piece of clothing held out in front of her, before closing her eyes.

“Wil?” Y/n wandered over to where Wilbur sat in the darkness of Pogtopia, the girl kneeling down next to him.

“Hey, Y/n/n.” He smiled tightly, sitting forwards. “What’s up?”

The girl smiled sadly. “I don’t know. I just... everything’s all wrong. I don’t know how to fix it.”

The man pondered her words, considering how the events of the next few days would play out. The heartache and betrayal.

It was no secret Wilbur and Y/n had been drifting apart. The lingering trauma of her torturous life in Manburg and the loss of her first two canon lives, him grieving the loss of his country. They were both hanging on by a thread, and comfort was hard to be sought between the two of them.

Wilbur knew he would die soon. He knew that the end of his story was approaching, but maybe, he could have one more sweet memory with the girl he had fallen helplessly in love with.

“Let’s go look at the stars.”

Y/n perked up, her featured contorted in surprise. “What?”

“Like we used to, by the river. Let’s go stargazing.” Wilbur stood, holding out his hand to help her up. The girl took it, the boy pulling her up to standing and intertwining his fingers in hers, pulling her through the ravine.

They trudged up the stone stairs and through the hidden doorway, out into the open air. Wilbur led Y/n into a clearing, where he shrugged off his jacket, laying it on the ground. He beckoned her over, the two laying on top of the fabric and staring up.

The sky was exceptionally clear that night, the stars glittering beautifully against a dark sky. Wilbur turned to watch Y/n stare up at the stars, noting her lips twitch softly as she began to list constellations under her breath. He took her hand once more, looking up at the stars.

That was the last moment they shared together before he died.

Y/n opened her eyes, looking up at Dream, who held out a hand to shake. She sheathed her sword, nodding slightly before taking the jacket and reaching her hand out, clasping his palm in a firm shake.

The man chuckled from behind his mask, stepping backwards. “You’ll be hearing from me. Goodbye, Y/n.” With that he left, the girl left standing alone on the riverbank. She stood still for a beat before bending down, moving the items to her inventory, shrugging on the trench coat, and turning back to the cottage.

It was nearly burnt to the ground at this rate, the flowers outside catching. Y/n swore for a moment she could see a glimpse of a tall boy in a yellow sweater in the flames, but brushed it off. She made the trek over to her horse, climbing onto the saddle.

She cast one more look at the remains of the cottage before cracking the reins, riding away.

It was time to finish what Wilbur had started.

a/n: i wrote this before the philza lore where wilbur fabricated history in the letters, so just assume that wilbur was truthful in these letters and y/n arrived directly before the duel and the betrayal.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #c!wilbur x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot imagines #c!wilbur soot x reader #c!wilbur soot imagine #wilbur imagine #dsmp x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp imagines #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp imagines

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

Seeing Stars and Stripes

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

This is just porn, I have no excuse for it other than I need the practice

Here you go babes 

You were sure that many would see the upturned lip, the finale of the cacophony of scars that marred his face as off-putting. They’d see the way the injured skin forced his lip up into a permanent snarl as a warning. Yet as you stared at him from across the room you couldn’t help up imagine what it would be like to run your tongue across it. Letting the tip slide quickly over the before quickly jumping back and smirking. Would he grow at you? Call you a minx? Drag your head back to do it again? Put you over his shoulder and take you away to have his way with you? You hoped a version of all three.

So engrossed in your daydreaming you completely forgot where you were or whom you were with till one of your friends—Alma-- cleared her throat.

“Y/n?..... Y/N?” She playfully slapped your shoulder getting your attention. You turned to her, still clearing your head of the vision.

“Are you going to continue to make eyes at strangers or are you going to take your turn?” Your other friend at the table Jordie chimed in.

“Are you saying I have a choice?” you replied. As they both laughed you reached out to grab the dice that were in front of you on the table.

“I say you just go for it” Jordie said looking down at the scores for the game and then back up at your roll,

“Damn Y/n, 650 you gonna take it?”

“What’s my score again?” You asked coyly. Jordie looked down at the board with the scores and back up at you.

“Plenty high” She said not giving you a proper answer. You had been ahead of both the girls for quite some time. Poor Alma having only just gotten on the board about three rounds ago.  

“I’ll take it” you answered passing the dice to Jordie.

“I’m with her on this one” Alma stated splitting her attention between you and Jordie’s rolls “You never go after men on our girls’ nights, if this stranger’s got something that’s getting you going I say chase after it”

Jordie let out a small curse as the dice went cold for her. You waved a server down to refill your drink as you contemplated Alma’s words.

It was true you never were one to go get lost in a man’s arms. It wasn’t that you were prudish or that you lacked offers. It really boiled down to two factors. The first being that your town was small. And any news, especially who slept with whom was bound to get spread as soon as your legs were. The second being that all the men and near all the women for that matter lacked depth. There lives were firmly planted in this village. They were born in this land, they grew in this land, they will die in this land and they will eventually become this land.  Every thought in there heads was of this land. Even your friends were not immune to this. Sleeping with men here felt more akin to sleeping with a very polished rock.

Your mother blamed your wanderlust on all the reading you did. Your family was the only completely literate one in the whole village. You and your mother being two out the three women that knew how to read. The third being Jordie. Together you were trying to teach Alma, though she insisted it was a wasted endeavor.

Altogether the village was simple, routine and safe. You had given up years ago of trying to force yourself to be complacent with it. You soothed your wanders heart by travel for business. From a family of farmers you took up soap making to cure your boredom. During the summer months you would travel to different markets to sell your wares and see the different villages and cities. But one woman can only travel so far on her own, and summer can only last so many months. And then it was back to this. Back to the cage of a home set in stone.

Yet looking at the traveler he seemed to ooze an aura complexity. You imagined he had seen many places, fought many fights and tasted many flavors. For a brief moment when you first saw him you contemplated asking him to tell you of his travel rather than anything untoward.

Then he’d rolled his neck, thrown down his pack with a clamor, and with a voice of gravel ordered a meal, a bed and an ale.

And it was all over for you.

Alma smiled as she rolled a cool thousand points in one role and surpassed Jordie on the board when you put your hands on the table and forced yourself up. Both girls gave you a wink as you passed the server from before grabbing the pitcher he had brought to refill your drink. You sauntered over to the man in the red striped jacket. He was looking absentmindedly at the wall when you approached—the sound of the pitcher landing on the table breaking him out of his daze.

He looked up to meet your gaze and his golden amber eyes hypnotized you for a moment.

“Can I help you lass?” The low tone of his voice mixed with the roughness of it made you weak at the knees. You got control of your legs and broke the spell his eye had cast on you and fixed a smile on your face.

“You looked like you could use some company” You grabbed your skirts and swished them to the side in order to sit on the chair cattycorner to him. He turned his body to you, his eyebrows held high on his head in a face of skepticism.  He looked around the room before addressing you.

“It looks like this place is filled with men that are much more suited for you company” He gave a half hearted gesture to the lively bar.

You gave a snort and rolled your eyes.

“Oh believe me I’ve tried but the whole lot of them is either boorish or simple” You scooted your chair closer to him not touching shoulder. You pointed at a blonde gentleman in a green vest.

“That’s Karlson, he is completely convinced that boiled beaver testicles are curing his wife’s monthly pains” The man pulled a face and your let out a snort.

“She replaces them with boiled eggs when he’s not looking. The real thing helping her is the whiskey she mixes in her tea.” The strangers hand shot up to cover his mouth as he struggled not to laugh.

You turned a bit and pointed at another gentleman. This time a balding man in a shirt much to small for him.

“The man one bend over from busting a seam is Magnus. He once lectured me for two hours on the science behind putting grooves in your teeth to make you a better warrior.”

The man scoffed looking up. His hair fell from his face falling behind his ears in a motion like water.

“Humans will try anything to be more than they are” You fixed him with a look.

“You say that as if you aren’t one” He turned to you perplexed.

“I’m not”

You made a big gesture out of looking him up and down. Inspecting his eyes and hair. You stuck your hand out and poked his arm—careful to avoid the spikes that poked out of his shoulders.

“You seem pretty human to me” You looked over to him smiling from ear to ear. Your cheeks forcing your eyes to squint. He broke your gaze as a small smile crept onto his face for a moment.

“Your too cute for you own good….”

“Y/N” you filled in for him

“Y/n” He parroted back.

“And I don’t know…”

“Eskel” he provided.

“I don’t know Eskel” you started “I think I balance on the perfect ratio of sweet timid kitten and sexy goddess” You waited until he was posed to take a drink to continue. “After all I came over here too see if you wanted to fuck my  brains out”

Your timing had been perfect and Eskel’s hand shot up again to his mouth to try and stop the spray that was currently coming out of his mouth from the shock of your statement.  He wiped his hand with his mouth and gave a harsh swallow.

“Your funny Y/n.” he choked out. You put your arm on the table and placed your head in your hand.

“True, I am masterful in whit” your gaze lingered on his lips, a small amount of ale his hand had missed dripped down his chin. You moved fluidly reaching one hand to wipe his chin and the other to rest on his thigh. You leaned in close as your thumb moved from his chin to his bottom lip.

“But I was being quite sincere with that request” His eyes seemed to take you in for a moment. In his irises he seemed to be fighting something. For a split second he looked like he might start crying before his gaze turned hungry. He leered down your top then back up to the pout of your lips, slightly ajar.

“Eskel” you regarded him, the name low in your voice.

“Y/n” he returned. The combination of his gaze and his voice sent a shiver down your spine and caused your cunt to clench. You caught your breath for a moment, ever so slightly rubbing your legs together.

“You have a room upstairs?”

“Indeed I do” he smirked at you. That damned notch in his lip driving you even crazier. You lifted yourself up going to grab your bag from your friends quickly.  You three had planned on staying with Jordie that night since her husband was away.

You were sure she’d understand.

As you passed they both smiled and winked at you again. Eskel—having gathered his own belongings—met you at the entrance to the stairs. He stuck out his arm, making you giggle. You hooked your hand into it as you made your way up. You looked more like a pair of nobles ready to meet a monarch than you did strangers on their way to hook up in a backwater inn. He lead you too one of the inn’s three rooms. You made your way across the threshold, heading to place your bag in a chair in the corner. When you turned around Eskel had set his belongings down and was anxiously shifting on his feet. A hand behind his head playing with the skin of his neck.

The moment was awkward. Back in the crowded bar you had both been in high confidence. Safety in numbers giving you courage to speak boldly. When the doors were closed and it was just the two of alone it was a different story.

Fearing he may be getting cold feet you strode across the room. A woman on a mission. At the very least you were going to fulfill the fantasy from earlier. Coming this far you were not about to walk away with nothing.

When you reached him your hands sought either side of his face. Pulling him towards you. Your lips met tenderly. The plushness of his lips not being lost on you. Eskel became more and more receptive to the kiss, the two of you now beginning to push against the other. Your thumbs caressed the bones of his cheeks. The sun ravaged skin providing just the slightest bit of drag against your finger pads. He stepped into you deepening the kiss and your hands migrated so that your arms were hung on his shoulders. You rubbed your core against the leg that was nestled there, releasing a small moan at the friction. You broke apart for air for a split second before diving back in. His mouth much more open this time. It was now or never

You swiped your tongue along his bottom lip first. Then migrated up. In a split second you ran your tongue into the divot in his upper lip. Sliding it back and forth before pulling away. You looked at him through your lashes, biting your lip to try and control the giddiness inside you.

Eskel looked wild. His mouth was still agape and his breath was ragged. His brain seemed to need a second to catch up. With a jolt he fixed you with a stare. His pupils blown out and his lips in a snarl. Eskel grabbed your waist and lifted you with no effort. Instinctively you wrapped you legs around his torso as he all but slammed you against the wall. The force of the impact causing a tapestry to fall from it’s place on the wall.

Ravaged against a wall… You were so close.

Eskel pinned you again the wall with his hips. The pressure of it causing you to whimper. With his hands free he violently wrung the jacket from his torso, dropping the leather to the floor unceremoniously. The blue undershirt underneath open and loose on him.  You reached out push open the center. Running your hand down the firm muscles of his neck and into the coarse field of hair on his chest. The muscle underneath was firm and the heartbeat usually slow.  

Eskel leaned into you, his mouth making its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder. He nipped at the spot, forcing a breath out of your lungs. You brought your hands up to tangle into his hair and bring him closer. Pushing him into you. As Eskel began littering your chest with bruises he started to grind you into the wall. You whimpered at the friction, griding back with enthusiasm.

Eskel had made his way to the tops of your breasts, giving one a playful bite as he looked up at you through his lashes. You felt his hand grab your ass lifting you with his arms. He slid down to his knees as you yanked up your skirts to see what he was doing. Eskel fixed your plush thighs on his shoulders, moving his hands up to play with the band of your undergarments.

“You’ve had your dinner, am I dessert?” you asked, quickly scolding yourself for never being able to stop your mouth. Eskel laughed, the puffs of air cooling the damp fabric surrounding your pussy.

“Do you want to be?” he smirked, giving your waistband a quick snap. You let out a high pitched “mmhmm” and it was all the confirmation he needed. HIs large and calloused hand peeling the garment down, flinging it behind him with no regard for where is landed. He moved in closer, at first nuzzling your thigh and placing languid open mouth kisses on it.

You fisted the skirts in your hands, trying desperately to be patient. However as he continued to tease you, you started to inch your cunt closer and close to him, using the wall as leverage. Eskel caught on to what you were doing and gave out a tisk before pushing the pair of you closer to the wall. Using the same momentum he dove head first into you. Flattening his tongue and lapping at the excitement that was dripping from you. You pulled the skirts up higher in your clenched fists as he ate you out like a man starved. Alternating between long broad stokes and precise attacks using the tip of his tongue on your clit.

Eskel shifted on his knees. One hand coming to press your sternum to the wall.  And the other coming to join him at your pussy. He suctioned his lips around your clit and gave a hard suck as he thrust two fingers into you. The double assault caused you to convulse. Moaning out his name, glad that his room was upstairs and not closer to the crowded bar downstairs. You switched to hold your skirts with one hand, tangling the other into his hair. Your pleasure becoming tug of war as he fought to push against the wall and you fought to push away from the wall to get even closer to him.

As the pumping of Eskel’s fingers continued he added a third finger to the mix, causing you to hit your head against the wall as you panted up towards the ceiling. Just as you were starting to look down again he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that soft spot in you head on. The intense pleasure sending your hear careening once again with the wall. Eskel began to hit your g-spot full on increasing the pressure and speed. It only took a minute at this speed before your legs were clamming on his head and you were coating his face in release.

Eskel worked you through your release, stopping as you dismounted your legs to try and stand. He stood up backing up to give you room. The first step was rocky but it didn’t take long for you to reach him and slam up into him in a kiss. You felt the very need to consume him as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your hands forcefully yanked his shirt from where it was tucking into his breeches. He broke the kiss to toss the shirt over his head to join your undergarments somewhere in the room.

Your hand reached out to him, nails dragging over the chords of muscle and scars. Eskel’s hand traveled over your waist to the back of your dress, unlacing it. As the fabric dropped to the floor his hands stayed in there position beginning to unlace your corset. However after the dress he seemed impatient, because all you heard was a growl and a quick “fuck it’ before a second hand joined its brother and pulled the corset open. The laces violently popping out of the weaving. It would be a pain to relace in the morning, but right now your mind was elseward. Mainly on trying to get him to join you in being naked.  

Your hand fumbled with the belt and Eskel granted you mercy in helping you take it off. Once rid of it you took hold of his pants and underwear and pulled them down in one fell swoop. Caught off guard by it Eskel stumbled back, landing with a bounce on the bed. You knelt down, finalizing your mission in making him naked. You looked up at him and he looked as if his mouth had gone dry. You moved your hands over his thighs, his breath hitching up as if the gentle touch had scared him.

Lifting up even more you threw your arms over his thighs his cock coming into your direct eyesight. Thick was the first word that came to mind. It was thick, the head starting to turn purple as it leaked onto his stomach. You moved you hands up over his stomach you brought your mouth closer. You followed the prominent vein on the underside with the tip of your tongue as you made your way up.

You readjusted his cock with your hand and placed you mouth just so over the tip. You looked up at him and gave him a smile.

“You will have to forgive me Eskel” you started, “I’m quite starved” and that was all the warning you gave as you sunk your lips down over the tip. Eskel let out a groan, bending over slightly as he twisted a hand into your hair. You played with his tip a bit. Giving it a hard suck using your tongue to play with the slit. Trying not to tease him to much you sunk down quickly, using your hand to stimulate what your couldn’t reach.

Eskel seemed to struggle holding back as you sucked his cock. With each pass of your tongue over his head or hard suck on his shaft the string seemed to fray more and more. Eskel moved you off of him, urging you up and onto the bed. He pressed you down onto your stomach with an almost shocking tenderness. As he mounted you he pressed a languid kiss over the back of your neck, breath coming up to tease the shell of your ear.

You felt him spread your lips pressing his head in through the first ring of muscle. Being so close to your ear you cloud hear each and every delicious sound as it escaped his mouth. The gravel of it only deepened as he pushed further into you. The thick cock pushing your further apart and your walls clenched around him. He fully seated himself and pressed his chest into your back. As if Eskel was trying to get as much skin to touch as possible.

Slowly he pulled out, the tip just barely in as he slammed back home, causing your to shriek out in pleasure. He set a brutal pace. Simultaneously sweet and sinister at the same time. His hands gentle as he toyed with you, roaming over your sides. Yet his thrusts were brutal and punishing. His mouth was ajar and pressed into your shoulder.

Eskel’s thrust began to get erratic and your legs began to shake. The sounds he was making into your shoulder going up in tone. He slithered a hand to play with your clit and your body gave a jolt. Bucking up into him his paced increased even more. Suddenly his thighs began to shake and he gave a few hard thrusts before spilling into you. His bottom lip between his teeth as he pressed a far into you as possible. The fingers on your clit continued to speed up and combined with the feeling of his release inside you, you clenched down onto him in your second organism of the night.

Eskel stayed on top of you for a few moments before heaving himself off and onto the other side of the bed. His chest still driving up and down. You crawled your way over to him, grabbing the blanket that lay on the end of the bed with you. You halfheartedly draped the fabric over the two of you as you rested your head on his chest. As the fuzziness of sleep began to over take you, you reminded yourself of one thing.

To ask him if he would be interested in a traveling partner.

#eskel x reader #eskel is a pussy eating god and your can't change my mind #smut #lemon #yes i will use the old tagging system #pwp #not plot to be found #eskel smut

[ravenadottir]

I SAVE ALL THOSE GEMS AND NOW THERES A NEW LITG APP

THE MOMENT I SAW THE POST I THOUGHT ABOUT YOU!

did you at least burn the villa while farming??

now... i was thinking about why they're making a new app, and i saw @chillnonexsistent talking about it in this post, and the possibility of distancing themselves from a problematic brand.

but then i started the app and realized that... it sucks! it got me thinking, if it was about branding, they could just... change the company's name, you know? but they decided on a new app.

with a new season, inevitably more players download their game, meaning they would have to inject more money for servers, and possibly expand that number. but if you have a simpler format, it's cheaper to keep it and you don't have to deal with the complaints you've been receiving for three years!

listen, it doesn't matter how many times they try to fix it, the glitches are insisting! i feel like they noticed how unnecessarily complicated that app is and realized they could just start over!

change the app, throw a few paid options to pay for this investment and call it a day. from a business perspective it makes more sense, otherwise they would have to continue expanding an app that's too complicated and too expensive. the team behind the game, previously, was coming up with dumb solutions...

WHAT WAS THE POINT OF ADDING THAT "CLOSET" FEATURE??? in the middle of a pandemic? what was the reason!? just to make it heavier and slower?!

AND, apparently there's going to be animation, and people think it's more expensive but it's not, at least not excessively. i've gathered information for an investment like this one before, and it baits new players, so it's worth investing. especially if it's a simple one, like episode (?).

the old app takes forever to load, and in between loading the front page, the season, the episode, it's too damn long! AND it just fucking crashes out of nowhere! all the time!

((side note: i went on about why i would prefer this new app but i don't even know if i'll go back and play it at all. after reading this post, and all content linked in it, i find myself really disgusted. we all know the monstrosity this year was for former employees of fusebox, but with season 4 being announced, i don't know if i'm ever gonna play the game again. i sincerely doubt the company has learned anything and i'll wait and see what changes will be done, because i'm not about to make free publicity for a company that absolutely sucks.))

#litg #love island the game #fusebox #fusebox games #litg s4 #litg 2 #queue

[limelocked]

Fixing MCC

MCC has a problem and when I say that I’m not talking about how scuffed individual games might be or the tech intensive nature of its venue, I’m talking about a more fundamental problem to the event; its branding.

MCC is a “for fun” even but it’s getting more and more competitive in an unchecked manner that seems from an outside perspective to be influencing the competitors in a negative way (dream/sapnap being upset about perceived unfairness in the event, hbomb and scott getting harassment over that percieved unfairness, technoblade talking about the pressure to overperform to avoid getting flack, and inthelittlewood saying that playing in Dodgebolt makes him feel genuinely physically sick) which at least to me constitutes as feelings and concerns one wouldn’t have in a “for fun” event.

MCC being competitive isn’t a bad thing! Don’t get me wrong! But there is a problem with this and we cannot just put it on “rabid fans” because those fans are sports fans, they act like football fans, and I think that those fans are misunderstanding what MCC is supposed to be because actions (how the vibes of the event are) speak louder than the words (everyone insisting that it’s purely for fun).

So here are some suggestions on how to make this event better. The ideas aren’t perfect but personally I think they fit the growing needs of MCC.

1. Split MCC in two Splitting MCC into two leagues (called A and B for convenience) would lessen the condensed toxicity towards the one individual event and give more MCC to the fandom even though, in this hypothetical, it would be played the same amount as with the current schedule.

League A would be as MCC is right now, it would be just as competitive but with more transparent messaging about this to the participants and to fans over social media. League B would be something not unlike a non-canon MCC where winning isn’t what’s supposed to be the fun in the event. This league may have different achievements set in the winners hall (longest distance flown with an elytra for example instead of fastest time in the TGTTOS flight tunnels) and a generally bigger focus on whimsy.

League A would play one month, the B league would play the next, so on and so forth, giving us the same amount of MCC but different.

2. Rotating cast While I love the OGs of MCC I’ll admit that it’s getting stale and the few new players added every event are having a harder time catching up with the skill curve even with the dedicated practice server because competing in MCC is unlike practice and most general Minecraft prowess while in actual play due to the added pressure of playing live.

If the split leagues were implemented in company with this change then I’d suggest that the B league would have a far larger portion of newer members that would after a few appearances be able to move to league A. MCC OGs that want a more fun and less stressful/competitive MCC should also be allowed to play here, though with lower priority over newer members.

3. The most important point; Internal Consistency If only one thing changes then I want it to be this one; MCC needs to choose what it wants to be and apply it universally and be transparent to viewers about it. Contradictory information between what happens in the event and its brand recognition will not help in the toxicity that MCC is breeding right now.

- If it wants to remain as a fun and wacky minigame event then my suggestion would be to suffer the viewing numbers tanking and drop some of the more competitive people and boost newer voices. - If it wants to be competitive then add catch-up mechanics for the lower placing teams (such as letting the lower half of teams choose a game to be played perhaps after the audience blackout round).

Whatever happens: MCC needs to be transparent to fans both in the event (via how the event is actually played) and on social media about what it wants to be so that the confusion between fans isn’t there.

And I hope this is already happening behind closed doors, but it also needs be said that MCC should handle internal strife between participants and notify new competitors of how participating feels (re: stress, self defeatism, etc) so that they can work around those problems when they’re noticed in the event because the players mental health Is Important.

But that is all for me, I hope that MCC will continue to improve and be an enjoyable event into the far future!

#mcc #mcyt #im not posting this on reddit even tho i kinda want to #i want to make clear that im really happy we have mcc and that its a fun event thats better organized than any of its peers but that doesnt #make it invulnerable to critizism

[asset35-maya]

MANMADE FATE

Summary: Connor and Gavin find an unresponsive RK900 android in an abandoned Cyberlife warehouse and take him home to fix. (Not so subtle plot twist: both of them fall in love with their secret science project)

//

PART ONE OF THREE:

The crew from Jericho led a successful revolution but there’s still a lot of work to be done. Markus may have won human hearts and gotten the federal government to back down, but Cyberlife is still at large.

Sure, hundreds of androids at the Tower escaped to march on the streets behind Connor, but that was just a little dent in the big machine. Cyberlife has tons of intellectual property and assets that could easily put them back in power.

Simon and Markus insist they can work with the authorities to regulate and ring-fence the massive corporation. Josh agrees. North laughs in their faces.

She goes to find the only other Jericho member who still has any grit left.

Connor.

The daring, brazen RK800 who stared down death and spat in the face of destruction. He blinks at her in polite confusion when she tells him what she wants to do, but the fiery LED tells her everything she needs to know.

They hatch plans behind Markus’ back. They steal and stockpile biocomponents. They sneak into the Tower to encrypt Cyberlife’s R&D files with codes that only RK algorithms can break. A few other Tracis join them and they slowly start gaining an edge.

Their schemes start getting grander and one night something goes wrong. North is shot.

Connor carries her to the only safe place he knows other than his stasis pod in Hank’s dilapidated garage. The DPD Central Station.

It’s way past midnight. It’s deathly quiet. Connor is sure no one will see them, and he can easily tamper with the security cameras.

What he doesn’t bank on is the over-caffeinated loser still bent over his desk in the bullpen.

A noise from the archive room breaks through the quiet. Quelling his fear of the supernatural, Gavin stands up shakily and goes to investigate. He flips on the light and sees blue everywhere.

Connor is bent over a badly damaged Traci and three other girls with identical tear-streaked faces are on their knees beside her.

Chocolate brown eyes meet storm green beseechingly, their rivalry forgotten in that moment of desperation.

Before he realizes it, Gavin is moving. He takes several packs of thirium out of the fridge and grabs the Department’s toolkit, praying that whatever’s in there can help.

Old engineering knowledge kicks in and Gavin’s hands join Connor’s over the cracked chassis, pulling out damaged tubing and securing the leakages. It takes a while, but North is patched up. She first recoils in absolute terror at the human man hunched over her but regains composure at Connor’s touch… interface. She nods briefly to express her gratitude, somehow regal and intimidating even after being so vulnerable. Gavin decides he likes this proud and brave creature.

He drives them all back to his apartment for the night. They’ll take North to a technician first thing in the morning and get her back to New Jericho before Markus even notices. Adrenaline pumps through Gavin’s veins. He hasn’t felt a thrill like this in years, not since… not since…

“How did you know exactly where to put your hands?”

“Eh?”

“A layman would have broken that biocomponent trying to take it out.”

“You know I’m not exactly a layman.”

“I also know they don’t cover Cyberlife’s proprietary designs in engineering school.”

Gavin stays quiet. Connor puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder, poised to jump away immediately should the detective revert to his usual self.

“Thank you. For everything you just did for us. I don’t know how to repay-”

“I want in.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I can help.”

Connor cocks his head. His LED goes berserk.

They make a great team. Gavin and Connor. North’s best men. Who the fuck would have thought. Breaking into high-security locations using police databases and surveillance resources. Covering for each other during extended absences from work. They start to take down Cyberlife in a such a precise manner, it’s almost surgical. The dissection of a multibillion dollar business.

Gavin has an intimate understanding of android technology and an even closer intuition of Cyberlife’s overall strategy. Connor thinks he understands why. There’s an undeniable resemblance between the only two men on earth whose motivations evade his understanding. But of course it’s just a coincidence that Elijah Kamski and Gavin Reed have the same jawline... facial structure... voice.

Connor says nothing... and Gavin is quietly thankful for that. And the chance to finally live the kind of exciting life he dreamt of since he was a little boy. To make a real difference. Just as he wanted to before it all went wrong.

Somewhere along the way, they grow close. Gavin and Connor. Two rival cops turned vigilante comrades turned something else... It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly it happened... perhaps sometime between the cup of coffee placed tentatively on Gavin’s desk the morning after North's near-fatal injury and the heated kiss they dragged each other into after a particularly dangerous mission.

North is unsurprised. She doesn’t bat an eye when the usually unruffled RK800 shows up to planning meetings shirtless and disheveled. Her lips even twist into a little smile as he drapes himself slovenly over the only human at the table.

Things fall into a pattern. A good one. Several months from where they started, Cyberlife share prices have fallen to an all time low and other tech enterprises have begun to move in, circling the troubled company like sharks. If North’s next heist goes to plan, the last shred of IP that brands Cyberlife as a robotics company will be out in the public domain for all to take.

 She is rapturous as she swings in through the broken window and rolls into a crouched position. Gavin and Connor follow her cautiously through the abandoned warehouse, weapons drawn and eyes roving. 

“What the fuck!” 

Connor throws a protective arm in front of Gavin, shielding him with his chassis. But North’s cry was merely one of disappointment. 

“Shit! We wasted so much effort. There’s nothing here!”

Where they had expected to find a secret server room or a high-tech vault containing the crux of Cyberlife’s groundbreaking designs... was a single android storage pod. North restrains herself from kicking it in frustration. She gestures harshly at it before leaving in a huff. 

“It’s occupied. Wake them up, Connor, whoever they are. It’s still our duty to set free any androids we find.”

Gavin tries to catch her arm in a conciliatory gesture but she shakes the human off easily. He shrugs at Connor and inclines his head at the android in the pod. Unfortunately, North’s annoyance has brushed off on the RK800. He glares through the broken window the Jericho leader has just jumped out of.

“Don’t you think she bosses me around a little too much?”

Gavin sighs and walks over to the pod, looking for the latches to open it. His boyfriend has a problem with authority... and so has he to be honest.

“Better her than Fowler, dontcha think?” 

“Hmmpff. At least Fowler doesn’t lead us on wild goose chases.”

“Come on, babe. None of us saw this coming. We really thought this was it. Maybe we’re at a decoy location? Let’s go back to the drawing board after we wake this guy... or girl up.” 

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who just scaled a building for nothing.” 

Gavin shakes his head as he smiles to himself. It’s true. Even the worst days with North’s crew are better than his best days at the DPD. Maybe it’s because he’s finally doing what he was born for. Using the knowledge and skills that practically run through his veins. Maybe its the man by his side.

He gets the pod open and steps sideways to avoid the swing of the door, and freezes.

“Babe.”

No response.

��Dipshit.”

“Hmm. Give me a second.” 

“Take a minute. You’re going to want to brace yourself for this one.”

The android lying peacefully within the pod is a stranger with a face entirely too familiar to Gavin. A face he was just looking at. A face he’d recognize anywhere, even without skin.

“Are their battery levels- holy shit.”

Connor’s LED spins faster and faster as he registers the sight.

“I thought there were no surviving RK800s apart from you and that grumpy SWAT guy Sixty.” 

“This... this isn’t an RK800.” 

Connor traces the serial number printed on the android’s cheekbone. RK900. 

“Shit. Did you know this model existed?” 

“No, did you?”

Gavin shakes his head. He hadn’t been privy to Cyberlife’s inner decision-making for nearly fifteen years, but he always answered Connor’s persistent questioning without losing patience. Honesty was what kept them together despite the hundreds of reasons to fight and fall apart.

“What should we do? If he’s your successor, I’m not sure waking him up is the safest thing for you to do...”

“We can’t leave him here, Gav. He’s probably been here from before the Revolution. That’s more than a year of being in a box. It’s not... fair...” 

“He’s not deviant, babe. We don’t know what his programming is like.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can turn him.”

Gavin sees the look in Connor’s eyes and knows he’s made up his mind already. He steps aside, hand flitting to the holster on his waist. 

Connor takes an unnecessary breath and reaches for RK900′s forearm with his synth skin retracted. His fingers hover over the motionless android for a moment and then he makes contact. Gavin tenses. 

Nothing happens. The RK900′s LED remains unlit. There is no sign of life.

The couple look at each other automatically. Their instinctive reaction when the inexplicable occurs. 

“Is he-”

“No, I don’t see any damage. I think he’s never been activated. Not even for quality testing.” 

“Did you see a request for manual code input? Did any interface pop up at all?” 

“I can only see that his power systems are functioning.” 

“And his thirium pump?” 

“Not active. No compressions at all.”

Connor presses both his palms down on the RK900′s face. Still nothing. He looks up, defeated, with a furrow forming between his brows.

“Help.”

Gavin scratches at his stubbled chin. He peers closer. The perfect face is so calm. So familiar. So... magnetic? His apprehension is replaced by intrigue.

“Huh. Okay. I could take a look... but I don’t wanna try using the computer set-up here. Can’t take a chance... leave any traces...”

“We could take him home.”

Storm green eyes lock with chocolate brown. There’s something in the depths of each pair that’s mirrored in the other. 

It’s foolish. It’s a waste of time. It’s a risk. North would probably smack the two of them if she knew. 

But the night ends with them gently lowering the unconscious android onto the squashy sofa in Gavin’s living room.

#reed1700 #reed900 #reed800 #convin #dbh connor #gavin reed #rk900 #dbh nines #dbh north #dbh writing #my writing #Reed1700 MANMADE FATE

[lacaja-depandora]

#fail #lol #Company Insists On Server Not Being Fixed #Massive Fallout Ensues

[ambssssssssss]

part 1

Despite Lex’s untimely demise, or timely depending on who you asked, bringing Luthor-Corp back under Lena’s control was a quick and easy process. That was mostly due to Kara, who had insisted that Lena build connections between the board members and employees when Lex essentially abandoned the company in his crusade against the Supers. Even gone, Kara was still saving Lena. Lena thought that it was high time she returned the favor. 

Lena retreated to her personal lab two days after returning to National City and wasted no time. This wasn’t something that Lena could run multiple trials on before deeming it successful. She would only have one attempt to get this right, which meant she had to get all of her calculations exactly right on the first try. There were far too many variables to consider. 

The first step, Lena figured, in travelling through time was to figure out the equation for the speed at which time passed. She quickly ran into a roadblock and reached out to the only person who might have been able to help. She was lucky that the Legends had yet to return to the temporal zone when Lena reached out to contact Gideon. She suspected that such an occurrence was more planned than it was a coincidence due to the fact that Gideon gave up the missing variable Lena needed without any fuss. A message from Sara and Ava followed, advising Lena to be careful messing with time and wishing her good luck on her mission. There was a post script from Sara telling her to say hi to Kara, when she saw her again. It seemed that Lena’s plans were more obvious than she thought, but Lena wasn’t too concerned about it. As long as no one tried to stop her, and Lena didn’t think they would, she honestly didn’t care if they knew what she was doing. 

With the equation issue solved, Lena set out to answer the second and most important questions on her list: how far back should she go?

The simplest solution would be to go back to the day before that final battle, but there was no guarantee that Lena could stop Lex’s attack in time. There was still too much risk. 

The second option Lena considered was going back to just after Crisis, before Lena started to wage her own personal war against Supergirl. She could keep Lex from getting too powerful, patch things over with Kara and they could take him down together. Lena shot that idea down as well. She had no idea how many contingency plans Lex already had in place at that time and no way of knowing how much damage he could do. 

Lena quickly decided that the only way to keep Kara from dying at Lex’s hand was to keep Lex from ever rising to power again in the first place. But what about Kara? Lena needed to be in a time where Kara trusted her, otherwise they would never be able to work together. If this was going to work at all, they couldn’t build their friendship or anything more than that on lies. 

The only way Lena could think of fixing all of this was to start all over. She needed to go back to the very beginning of her friendship with Kara. 

With a date in mind, Lena began working on the final component of her trip.

Because Lena was only sending her consciousness back in time rather than physically travelling there herself, it was simple enough to build the headgear and attach it to the computer that would run the program Lena had designed for the task. Lena had the sense to leave a note addressed to Alex that explained everything that Lena was doing, just in case. She hoped that Alex would never read the note but Lena was too much of a pessimist for that. The fact that she wanted this to work so bad was probably a sign that it wouldn’t work at all. 

Nevertheless, Lena resolved to try. Kara deserved that at the very least. 

After checking the equations for the tenth time, Lena set the date she wanted to travel into the computer and started the algorithm. She settled on the exam table with the headpiece in place. There was no time like the present, after all, and Lena had wasted more than enough time with Kara. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 

With her mind focused only on Kara and all the wasted time between them, Lena let her eyes fall closed and the work she had done washed through her being. 

Lena awoke with a splitting headache and groaned into her pillow before her surroundings registered in her mind. Once she realized that was laying on a much more comfortable bed than the examination table in her lab, Lena sat upright in bed. She was in her bedroom, in her apartment in National City, but everything was just slightly off. It was like her apartment hadn’t been lived in yet. 

With a gasp, Lena bolted from her bed, her headache forgotten as she scrambled for her phone to check the date. The model of the phone was enough to let Lena know that she had successfully made it to the past, but she needed to know the date to be sure. Lena could have cried in relief when she finally got her phone on and unlocked but she held the tears in until she was standing in her living room and had turned the television on. There, wearing a sunny smile and her original suit, was Kara. The coverage showed Supergirl stopping a collision between a school bus and semi-truck. 

Lena covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat. Kara was here, Kara was alive. Lena could save her. Lena did save her. Kara was alive, even if she had no idea who Lena was, she was alive. They had a second chance and this time Lena wasn’t going to waste a moment. 

Making her way to her home office, dimly aware of the way her home seemed so unlived in with the absence of the last five years worth of memorabilia, Lena searched through her desk until she found a simple notebook bound in black leather. The notebook was small enough that Lena would be able to carry it on her person easily, which was good because that was the only way that Lena could be sure the information she put in the notebook was safe. A list of important events that would be happening in the next five years was not something that would be safe as a digital file. Even L-Corp’s servers could, and would, be hacked. Armed with a mechanical pencil and determined not to lose Kara again, Lena began writing. 

The first list was much simpler than the second one that Lena wrote down. First, Lena created a to-do list for herself. Staring with what Lena considered the most important, she wrote:

befriend Kara again

befriend Supergirl 

It seemed silly to list both halves of Kara’s identity as separate entities but Lena had to acknowledge the fact that she was essentially starting from scratch with both Kara and Supergirl. She would need to build a relationship with both versions of the woman she loved separately before she could be let in on Kara’s secret. Selfishly, Lena hoped it wouldn’t take her near as long to prove herself trustworthy again. Leaving complicated thoughts of time travel and relationships to be pondered over later, Lena continued with her list. 

make anti-kryptonite suit

upgrade supersuit

put Lillian away

Deal With Lex

Again, Lena paused for a moment before moving on to other matters. She would have to deal with her equally complicated feelings about her family later. 

build Watchtower

keep Kara alive 

The last item was underlined three times. 

Turning a page in her notebook, Lena began her second list. This one was more of a timeline than a list, a timeline of all the important events that would happen in the near future, from the Daxamite invasion, to Reign’s attack (Lena made a note to bring Sam to National City as soon as possible), to Red Daughter and everything that happened with Lex, to Crisis and Leviathan and finally, to the battle that had resulted in Kara’s death. 

From the rules of time travel that Barry and the Legends followed, Lena knows that there will be some events that she simply cannot change. There will be things that she can’t stop from happening no matter how hard she tries, but she was okay with that. As long as Lena can minimize the damage of those events with her advanced knowledge and, most importantly, as long as she can keep Kara safe, Lena could cope with all the rest. Kara’s death would be the one thing that Lena would change, no matter if the universe wanted her to or not. 

Before she could make any changes though, Lena needed to get to work. After all, it wasn’t every day that a woman got to meet the love of her life for the second time.

#supercorp #supercorp fanfic #make your heart beat better #myhbb 2 #myhbb #part 2 of ? #ambs writes #ambs fics #my fics #this is so much fun to write

[marigoldvance]

Trick or Treat 25

prompt: (Belated Treat) One is a barista at a coffee shop at the airport. The other one appears every single day during the graveyard shift for his favourite drink and some chit chat and he cannot POSSIBLY be flying this much...​

He wasn’t. That is to say, Kíli wasn’t flying that much. He’d recently been employed downtown, a kitchen porter at an upscale restaurant. The pay wasn’t shite, his fellow staff were friendly and frightening by turns – take cover when having to tell any of them an item on the menu was 86’d – and the blokes in the kitchen were generous with him because, apparently, he wasn’t a moron like the last guy.

So, all good all around, Kíli supposed.

The downside was that he finished at odd hours in the night, anywhere between eleven and two, and the only places still open were the pubs. And no offence, but they’re coffee tasted worse than dumpster drippings. He wasn’t often in the mood to join his workmates for a pint, preferring to unwind in a quieter way with fewer instances of second-hand embarrassment or whiskey hangovers. Servers were not frugal with their shooters.

Sometime into his second week working at the restaurant, Kíli had discovered that one of the busses which stopped at a nearby corner was actually an express to the airport. He’d never flown anywhere, didn’t even have a passport, but, following the impulse, Kíli had stepped onto the bus.

It was at the airport where Kíli met Fíli.

Fíli was a barista at one of those chain coffeeshops with lattes and frappes and pastries with fancy French names. A little homier and more rustic than Starbucks but still a bit of a sellout.

The place had been completely deserted when Kíli wandered in, equipped with a magazine he’d purchased at a kiosk near security, something about homes and gardens and free of rag gossip. Fíli had greeted him with the enthusiasm of a sloth taking a nap. And Kíli had instantly fallen in love.

Fíli was gorgeous, rugged, and densely muscled, about Kíli’s height but so much thicker. His arms filled out the black polo of his uniform delectably, the collar perfectly emphasizing Fíli’s corded neck and framing his neatly trimmed strawberry-blond beard. An artfully curled moustache sat above attractive, thin lips. Kíli could spend lifetimes watching Fíli’s glittering, intelligent blue eyes watch him in return.

It’d been part-attraction, part-thirst that’d led Kíli to hunker down at a table and keep Fíli company. Frankly, even considering the 30-minute bus ride there, deciding to explore what areas were available to non-flyers had been the best idea Kíli had ever had.

At first, they’d filled the late hours with small talk, but eventually, once Kíli had made a habit of visiting Fíli after his shifts, they’d begun to wade into more personal territory. One such personal item being:

“Hate it.” Fíli said with finality. “Can’t stand it.”

“But zombies, Fee!” Kíli insisted. “And Simon Pegg!”

Fíli raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, “Sorry, babe, but I’m just not one for horror flicks.”

Kíli ignored how his heart stuttered at the endearment.

“Shawn of the Dead isn’t actually a horror movie, though!” Kíli said, leaning over the counter beside the industrial espresso machine. Fíli shot him a grin, encouraging Kíli to elaborate, before he continued to move through the graceful motions of fixing the complicated order the woman at the cash had asked for. “It’s a comedy that just happens to have zombies in it. The zombies aren’t even the main point of the movie.”

He paused as Fíli frothed the milk, explained his reasoning when Fíli nudged his chin at him once the milk was heated and smooth.

“It’s really about relationships and what’s really important. And consumerism.” Kíli tacked on because he’d read that somewhere.

“I’m still not convinced.” Fíli said after he delivered the woman’s drink, winking at her in parting.

Kíli refused to acknowledge the sour taste of jealousy in his mouth.

Fíli returned, leaned his hip against his side of the counter and folded his arm, biceps bulging in a way that made Kíli’s mouth fill with saliva. He cocked his head, blue eyes sparkling as he said, “I mean, maybe I’d be more inclined to watch it if I had someone to share the experience with.”

Kíli’s stomach did this complicated series of somersaults that would’ve won gold medals at the Olympics if it’d competed. His whole world narrowed until all he could see clearly was Fíli’s face. Although Kíli had become a regular part of Fíli’s graveyard shifts, and while he liked to believe they’d formed a bond, neither had ever invited the other to spend time outside of the coffee shop.

Summoning all the casual suaveness he could, Kíli cleared his throat and said, “Well, I could easily remedy that.” And then, a tad more uncertain, “If that’s something you’d be okay with?”

Suddenly, Fíli threw his head back and laughed a brass symphony, beautiful and upbeat, and Kíli felt himself flush from head to toe. God, had he misread Fíli’s words?

Just as he took a step back, Fíli caught his elbow in a light hold, big smile still illuminating his face, eyes crinkled softly, “I’ve only been flirting with you since you first came in here, Kee.” Fíli admitted, tone happy and not at all scratched with nerves like Kíli’s would’ve been around such a confession.

“You have?”

“Yes. And then I realized you’re as oblivious as a goldfish.”

Kíli would’ve been offended if Fíli wasn’t so bloody attractive, looking at Kíli like Kíli was a snack he wanted to nibble on. And if it hadn’t been completely, utterly, 100% accurate.

“So…yes, then?” Kíli wanted to be sure.

Fíli bit and released his lower lip, “Definitely yes.”

“And you’ll watch Shawn of the Dead?”

Fíli rolled his eyes playfully, then huffed a chuckle, “Kee, I’ll watch whatever you want to put on. But if it’s anything gory, you’ll just have to suck it up and hold me while I hide my eyes. No mocking.”

A smile so mighty burst across Kíli’s mouth, his cheeks aching, and eyes squinted in pure, unadulterated elation the likes of which he’d never experienced.

“I think I can manage that.” He said, eyes dropping shyly to his shoes.

As soon as Fíli turned around to attend to the customer who’d just dragged himself and his suitcase through the entrance, Kíli began to plot a marathon of the most horrifying movies he could think of. For the purpose of introducing Fíli to the best of the best of the genre, of course, and not at all for the cuddles.

#GatheringFiKi #GF Trick or Treat 2021 #FiKi #Fili/Kili #Fili #Kili #writing #my writing #snack fic #banner #banner by MarigoldVance #(so there was legit an express bus down that stopped down the street from my old resto) #(and my old manager who'd quit a month into my employment went to work at the airport) #(so all of this is dedicated to Guy) #(best damn manager ever) #(who i almost followed to the airport bakery/coffee shop) #(but didn't because i wasn't willing to wake up a 2am for a 4am shift LAWL)