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is-not-a-bell · 7 months

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Ghost blobs lead someone to Danny (Part 2)

When Tim entered the Batcave in the morning he didn't know what to expect. Alfred had mentioned that Bruce barely left the cave after coming home later than everyone else. But weirdly he didn't sound upset about it.

He wasn't expecting a loud chirp. Was this a weird new security measure? A prank? A flash of green above him flew away toward the batcomputer. He quickly ran over calling out. "Bruce?"

Tim stared at the bat computer. Bruce was working on... something but what the heck were the green blobs floating around him. Were they humming? "Hey Bruce? Are you aware of the blobs?" "Yes, they came with a victim I found last night." "Last night? They're here?" "Due to their appearance and the nature of their injuries. I assumed it would be safest to treat him here."

Tim looked at the monitor containing a report on the victim. Found in an abandoned warehouse with severe injuries along with 'blob ghosts' and the victim claiming to be a ghost. The victim or Danny didn't have any vital signs but was still conscious.

Danny's claim of being bad at being a ghost was explained when the boy transformed into a living breathing human with vital signs. Sewing the wounds were difficult because not five minutes later the stitches were dissolved. Not even the sutures meant for Superman lasted. That's when the blob ghosts did something to the sutures. They gave off a faint green glow, but they didn't dissolve like the rest of the stitches so they had to resolve to using them for the rest of the injuries.

Last part of the report was far more clinical then the rest. Which was cataloging the injuries. At first it was thought to be from an autoposy, but... There are clear signs of struggle, Danny was obviously strapped down with something that had burned his skin. He was vivisected.

Tim stopped reading it and looked away, some of the blobs turned their attention to him. The humming was louder now, it was rather soothing to hear. One floated closer to Him. He cautiously reached out to it and brushed it gently on its head.

The blob liked it apparently and leaned into his hand. The others seemed to take this as an invitation and swarmed Tim. "Uh Bruce!" "Oh that's normal. They'll calm down... eventually." The man spoke matter of factly and he could just barely see a smile creeping on to the man's face.

Traitor

A few of the blobs were grabbing his sleeve and tugging. They barely had any strength. If this was how much they bite, Tim could see why Bruce allowed the creatures into the cave. And it seemed they were leading him somewhere. Just like in Bruce's report, Tim glanced at the man once before following the ghost blobs.

They arrived in the medbay, where Danny was left in one of the more private rooms meant for long term recovery. Tim heard the same chirp from before. But this time there was a responding one. So it was a sort of alarm then, one to warn of an intruder and the responding one must be to say he wasn't a threat.

The new blobs greeted him like the ones before. But they did get out of his face to let him see Danny. The boy was incredibly pale and still. Tim thought he could be dead if it wasn't for the slow rise and fall of his chest.

His heart rate did not improve much and his body temp was still worryingly low. Tim hoped that it was normal for Danny. Tim was hoping to get some case work done before going to his office, but the blobs seemed content to have Tim there. Tim does have a laptop, so he could call Tam saying he's taking slow day. It would probably be for the best if someone was with Danny when he wakes up.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #Tim passed the vibe check #So he gets to meet their boy #Tim is wondering if Danny has blue eyes because if he does Bruce is never going to hear the end of it #Tim doesn't get much work done because the blobs are like cats that walk in front of you screen

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ralfmaximus · 3 months

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Shane Jones, the AI engineering lead at Microsoft who initially raised concerns about the AI, has spent months testing Copilot Designer, the AI image generator that Microsoft debuted in March 2023, powered by OpenAI’s technology. Like with OpenAI’s DALL-E, users enter text prompts to create pictures. Creativity is encouraged to run wild. But since Jones began actively testing the product for vulnerabilities in December, a practice known as red-teaming, he saw the tool generate images that ran far afoul of Microsoft’s oft-cited responsible AI principles.

Copilot was happily generating realistic images of children gunning each other down, and bloody car accidents. Also, copilot appears to insert naked women into scenes without being prompted.

Jones was so alarmed by his experience that he started internally reporting his findings in December. While the company acknowledged his concerns, it was unwilling to take the product off the market.

Lovely! Copilot is still up, but now rejects specific search terms and flags creepy prompts for repeated offenses, eventually suspending your account.

However, a persistent & dedicated user can still trick Copilot into generating violent (and potentially illegal) imagery.

Yiiiikes. Imagine you're a journalist investigating AI, testing out some of the prompts reported by your source. And you get arrested for accidentally generating child pornography, because Microsoft is monitoring everything you do with it?

Good thing Microsoft is putting a Copilot button on keyboards!

#ai #microsoft #copilot #bullshit

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cypherscript · 8 months

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Comet Homerun

Flash was panicking, all of the space flying heroes were off planet and he was stuck on monitor duty after slipping some laxative into the mug of an NATO inspector checking out the watch tower to report back to the other nations. Why? Because non-hero suits are just a problem waiting to happen and the sooner he was gone the better. Bats didn't think it was funny in the slightest though. The cause of the panic was the alarms blaring in the monitor room, Watchtower had detected a large celestial object hurdling towards the earth at incredible speeds and given the range of the Watchtower's detection it would impact the earth in forty-five minutes.

"Come on, come on there's gotta be someone in the damn register who can help with this." He spent the next thirty minutes trying to find someone to no avail when a separate alert came through but this time from the earth; a massive energy surge as an object the size of a beachball sped from the earth's atmosphere, its tail forming as it does so.

"What the heck," Flash shouts as he sees it zoom past the Watchtower and into space, moments later the first alarm ceases and the report shows it was destroyed by a comet collision of unknown origin. "Computer track that energy surge on earth and get me a visual." The computer hums and a window opens showing a boy in a black hazmat suit and white hair floating above a park with two other teens. The CCT camera barely picking up what he says. ______________________________________________________________

"Ah dang, kind of let that one get away from me, do you think anyone's going to notice? Atleast I got Overgrowth souped before he got a good root in." The girl scoffs, "Yeah, I'm sure people are just going to ignore a freaking giant ball of ice being flung into space." "Yeah," The other boy speaks up, "Like all the rockets hitting the moon recently. Don't worry about it dude."

"So wasteful," The girl mutters as they head out of frame of the camera. ______________________________________________________________

"What am I going to tell Bats?"

"Tell me what," A deep gravely voice asks, causing flash to totally not scream like little child.

#dp x dc

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kairiscorner · 9 months

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my sickness is brain rotting about him 🧋

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

let him take care of you. – miguel o'hara x sick!reader

"don't even think about it." his low, stern voice rumbled from the depths of his throat and was all that you could hear amidst your sniffling from your congested airways. your teary eyes from your cold was blurring your vision, and your weakly turned around to face his stoic expression–with his eyebrows furrowed up at you as he placed his hands on his hips in his usual commanding demeanor. you groaned as you tried to tell him you were fine, you could go on the mission you were originally assigned as usual–a little cold wouldn't bring you down; but your incessant coughing, sniffling, and dazed, fatigue expression caused him to think otherwise.

he sighed as he grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you to follow him into the infirmary, with you reluctantly joining him as you wobbled alongside his confident strides. he took you into the cold infirmary and sat you down by the patient's bed. you shivered and sneezed upon entering, causing miguel to murmur that he told you, you weren't as robust as you believed you were in this condition. he requested lyla to do a full-body scan on you, to check on your condition and what was wrong with your body right then and there. lyla had reported back to miguel that you had a common cold, and the only remedy being a nice warm meal and a lot of rests and liquids.

miguel nodded as he dismissed lyla and went over to the nearest cabinet and got you a fuzzy blanket. you insisted, with a nasally voice, to miguel that you were just alright–you just needed to shake this cold off by kicking some bad guys' asses... but miguel didn't buy it when he heard you sneezing and wheezing as you spoke. he unfolded the blanket wordlessly as you tried explaining to him that you were just setback a little–you could totally kick ass, just... maybe give yourself a few minutes. miguel shook his head as he lay the blanket on you, not bothering to lay you down before he placed the blanket on top of you.

"enough with your hardheadedness, c'mon, get your ass better soon or i'm kicking your ass for those anomalies." miguel scolded you as you huffed, pulling the blanket off your face and lying down grudgingly. miguel pulled out a cold smock and a mercury thermometer, inspecting it up close and asking himself in a mutter how this thing was supposed to work. you coughed out a guide for him, but he decided to make his job easier and just have lyla monitor you. you had expected him to leave you alone in the infirmary to rest so he could also get some of his own work done, but miguel merely sat on a chair by the end of your bed and worked on the monitors from his watch with a stoic face.

you raised an eyebrow at him as he merely kept working. "what... are you up to?" you asked him weakly as he peered at you from the corner of his eye. "monitoring you to ensure you don't do anything stupid." he said in a low mutter as he kept working. you smiled meekly and coughed a bit as your cold persisted. miguel had gotten up from the chair and went over to get you a paper cup and filled it with warm water and handed you a lozenge from the drawer. "lyla said you'd need them, so... here." he said awkwardly as he handed them to you. you thanked him, with miguel nodding his 'you're welcome' back at you as he sat himself down on the chair again and kept monitoring the multiverse as usual.

a few hours passed and you eventually fell asleep with miguel watching over the multiverse and you all the while. lyla popped in and asked miguel if he could take a small break to get you some food, with him telling lyla that if you weren't whining for food, you probably didn't need it. lyla sighed, "wow, you're a pretty bad caretaker, mig." she said as miguel side-eyed her and gave in. "fine, but keep an eye on them for me, sound an alarm if they do anything close to escaping this room." "you make them sound like a criminal." lyla joked as miguel rolled his eyes and exited the infirmary, on his way to cook you up some fresh food.

he came back with a bowl of some hot soup, which lyla recommended for a cold remedy, and as he was heading back into the room, miguel took note of how peaceful you appeared while sleeping. he set the food down on the table near your bed and heard your breathing get laborious, must've been your body's response to fighting off your illness. miguel would've usually asked lyla to give him a report on your current temperature, but right now, he wanted to know for himself how bad your fever was getting. call it out of character for him, but he did truly care for you deep down... he can only show this side of himself while you're not looking, though; so he leaned over and pressed the back of his palm to your forehead, feeling your warmth all over his hand.

"poor thing." he murmured as he gently placed a new cold smock back on to your forehead and noticing your eyelids gently fluttering open. he pulled away from you not long after and opened the lights. "about time you woke up, eat up now." he said with a softer voice than earlier, handing you the hot bowl of soup he cooked up for you. you wheezed out your thanks to him as he muttered a 'you're... welcome' this time instead of just nodding. watching you eat the soup he made, seeing you look more rejuvenated and healthy kind of made his heart feel... lighter somehow. miguel never told you he cooked that for you, instead, he took your compliments about his dish and told you he'd thank the chef for you; he'd be damned if anyone else in the spider society discovered he cooked for you while sick, that would be a secret he'd take to the grave.

"hey, miggy..." you whispered to him as you grinned as wide as you could, amidst your heated, sick expression. he leaned closer to you and raised an eyebrow. "what, do you need any water?" he asked you, but you shook your head. "thank you... for, everything, really." you said with a slightly embarrassed face that mimicked his own. miguel felt himself get feverish and heated, he had never received a compliment that sincere; well, actually, he had hardly received compliments nowadays. he didn't know what to say to really relay how he felt, he couldn't even tell what feelings he was experiencing right then and there, they were a flurry of feelings that he experienced hammering in his chest all at once. he nodded again and said in a much louder voice as he looked away from you, "right, right, um... you're welcome." he tried his hardest not to sound flustered nor taken aback by your sweet words of gratitude, but your slight giggling made his facade crumble bit by bit.

"anyway... get better soon, or i'm replacing you." he threatened you with no commitment whatsoever in it, with you chuckling now at it. "really? then who're you gonna take care of while they're sick...?" "i don't ask to be anyone's caretaker when they're sick." "because you don't ask, you wanna take care of me, isn't that right, miggy?" you asked him with a flustered grin as miguel went back to monitoring the multiverse again, facing away from you. "just... go back to sleep, you'll need all the rest you can get, go on now." he said as you smiled wider and nodded, falling your head back on the pillow and relaxing yourself to head to sleep. miguel, meanwhile was restless; hearing you thank him and get through to his tough exterior with your gratitude and astuteness... it did a number on him, it affected him in more ways than you could ever imagine.

he looked away from his monitors for a second and peered over at your sleeping self, turned on your side again—and for the first time in a long while... felt the corners of his lips stretch into a small grin and his heart lightening up just a tad bit. who knew he could be a better caretaker than he thought? certainly not him, but even though he wasn't the most well-versed at this whole care-taking thing—but you give him a whole new confidence to work with; it might not be the brightest confidence, but it's certainly something that compels him to keep doing this, to keep putting out effort to care for and help someone get nursed back to health, and it's exclusively for you.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @melovetitties @arachnoia @ophanimgold @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @simsrandomstuff @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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linghxr · 10 months

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50+ fundamental crime, suspense, & mystery Cdrama vocab words

I'm currently watching 《模仿犯》, so I was inspired to put together this list of essential vocab for 犯罪剧/悬疑剧/推理剧. I tend to gravitate towards dramas that fall into these genres.

I've sorted the words into categories. These were determined by vibes only. Definitions are adapted from MDBG, my loyal companion for nearly 10 years.

The Case

案子 ànzi - case / law case / legal case / judicial case

案件 ànjiàn - case / instance

办案 bàn'àn - to handle a case

破案 pò'àn - to solve a case

报案 bào'àn - to report a case to the authorities

命案 mìng'àn - homicide case / murder case

作案 zuò'àn - to commit a crime

现场 xiànchǎng - the scene (of a crime, accident etc) / (on) the spot / (at) the site

证据 zhèngjù - evidence / proof / testimony

真相 zhēnxiàng - the truth about sth / the actual facts

The Investigation

厘清 líqīng - to clarify (the facts) / clarification

线索 xiànsuǒ - trail / clues / thread (of a story)

细节 xìjié - details / particulars

痕迹 hénjì - vestige / mark / trace

追踪 zhuīzōng - to follow a trail / to trace / to pursue

追问 zhuīwèn - to question closely / to investigate in detail / to examine minutely / to get to the heart of the matter

排除 páichú - to eliminate / to remove / to exclude / to rule out

嫌疑 xiányí - suspicion / to have suspicions

怀疑 huáiyí - to doubt (sth) / to be skeptical of / to have one's doubts / to harbor suspicions / to suspect that

跟踪 gēnzōng - to follow sb's tracks / to tail / to shadow / tracking

不对劲 búduìjìn - fishy / wrong / not right

隐瞒 yǐnmán - to conceal / to hide (a taboo subject) / to cover up the truth

The Victim

被害者 bèihàizhě - victim (of a wounding or murder)

受害者 shòuhàizhě - casualty / victim / those injured and wounded

幸存者 xìngcúnzhě - survivor

失踪 shīzōng - to be missing / to disappear / unaccounted for

消失 xiāoshī - to disappear / to fade away

绑架 bǎngjià - to kidnap / to abduct / to hijack / a kidnapping abduction / staking

遗体 yítǐ - remains (of a dead person)

尸体 shītǐ - dead body / corpse / carcass

拯救 zhěngjiù - to save / to rescue

寻人启事 xúnrénqǐshì - missing persons notice

The Perpetrator

嫌疑犯 xiányífàn - a suspect

嫌疑人 xiányírén - a suspect

歹徒 dǎitú - evildoer / malefactor / gangster / hoodlum

凶手 xiōngshǒu - murderer / assassin

一伙儿的 yìhuǒrde - in on it together

开枪 kāiqiāng - to open fire / to shoot a gun

鬼鬼祟祟 guǐguǐsuìsuì - sneaky / secretive / furtive

可疑 kěyí - suspicious / dubious

认罪 rènzuì - to admit guilt / to plead guilty

自首 zìshǒu - to give oneself up / to surrender (to the authorities)

下落 xiàluò - whereabouts / to drop / to fall

动机 dòngjī - motive / motivation

犯罪 fànzuì - to commit a crime / crime / offense

The Police

报警 bàojǐng - to sound an alarm / to report sth to the police

警察 jǐngchá - police / police officer

警方 jǐngfāng - police

警官 jǐngguān - constable / police officer

刑警 xíngjǐng - criminal police (abbr. for 刑事警察)

被捕 bèibǔ - to be arrested / under arrest

包围 bāowéi - to surround / to encircle / to hem in

监控 jiānkòng - to monitor

检查 jiǎnchá - inspection / to examine / to inspect

调查 diàochá - investigation / inquiry / to investigate

排查 páichá - to inspect / to investigate one by one

质问 zhìwèn - to question / to ask questions / to inquire / to bring to account / to interrogate

前科 qiánkē - criminal record / previous convictions

Bonus: Here's a list of dramas I have seen/am watching in these categories:

《想见你》 Someday or One Day

《开端》 Reset

《消失的��子》 The Disappearing Child

《她和她的她》 Shards of Her

《镇魂》 Guardian

《模仿犯》 Copycat Killer

《不良执念清除师》 Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

Now go forth and enjoy some more dramas! I'm a slow watcher, so I add new shows to my watch list faster than I can finish them.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 months

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Pretty like the sun

Next chapter

a/n not what I originally wanted to put out but today this hit my head so a little something to smooth us in. AND This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨🤍

summary: an arrival of a new sibling get a bit too overwhelming for Azriel's youngest daughter.

warning: past trauma related to wing clipping.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Zofie's pov:

She was ecstatic. Mother knew she had told every soul that was willing to listen to her about how she was going to become a sister. An older sister. How happy she was to no longer be the youngest. To be able to pull the same proud older sibling card, the same one that Axel used when Zofie had achieved even the smallest of things. It was easy to love like that because all she had known ever since she had met you and ever since she had seen Azriel was love. She knew because that feeling was always fuzzy. Always somewhat pink with tints of purple. It grew different in the saturation of colors, but it was always so delicate.

She doted over the idea of another element unifying you all as a family. Yes, she was content when it was just you four. Always had been. Even back in the sanctuary. There was something that told her that this was the endgame. That you all were always meant to find one another. Then Granny took them in for almost a month. Zofie still remembered how confused she had been when you and Azriel hadn't shown up the next morning. "Your parents are mates; they accepted the bond and need a bit of time... till it... well... settles," Cordelia had told them over breakfast.

And Zofie had loved seeing the new shades of gold that now constantly swirled around her two parents. Even when she drowned it out, the sheen stayed. And oh, how she had adored her lavender dress at the mating ceremony. How she had loved the fact that even though this was supposed to be a day about you two, Azriel had pulled Axel and her aside and made a separate vow, as a dad, just for them. Azriel was her yellow. Had always been. She had found it strange. Alarming even at first. Because no one, not even you, possessed a color like that. But then she realized that it wasn't a sign of warning. It was a sign that, just like a flower, she had to lean towards the sun. Toward the light. Towards her yellow.

She also remembered the day you two had sat them down. To tell them about the babe. "Well", you had breathed out, sparkling eyes gazing up at Azriel, who had been smiling like a fool. Never had Zofie seen him smiling like that. "Are we finally getting that black cat?", she had asked like a real kid, eager to drag the stray home. You had chuckled, "Not yet, but I'm working on it", since truly it had been Azriel who hadn't been on board with the idea. She watched Azriel moving closer to you, clasping your shoulders lovingly. She remembered how she had gazed at Axel, meeting his confused gaze.

The her dad let out a content sigh, "You two are getting another sibling", such simple sentence and yet the room exploded in a rainbow of colors for Zofie as she let out a squeal, grabbing onto Axel's hand. "Another kid from the camps?", Axel had frowned however. Most of them had been taken down. Only tightly monitored ones were allowed to stay put. And only with weekly reports sent to Rhys and then approved by the three Illyrians and the high lady. "No", Azriel had said softly as your hands had shifted to tighten the material of your dress that now shaped a slight bump. Zofie was convinced that Axel and her looked like two dead fishes up on the shore. Mouths gapping. Eyes big. "Surprise", you whispered as a smile broke out on your face. "Fuck yeah", Axel chuckled forward, embracing you in a tight hug. "Language, boy", Azriel reminded Axel as they clasped hands both smiling so much their cheeks had to aching.

"Mom", Zofie had muttered out, eyes full of tears. "You will be a big sister", Azriel had cupped her cheek lovingly. "That's so amazing", and she was genuinely happy. So happy. "We will knit things and oh, papa, we need to carve that crib and...", she knew she was ranting but the emotions. So many emotions... Azriel had wrapped her up in his arms. Drowning out the sounds immediately, "We'll do it all. You and me. Will make it special, my little star".

But what frightened Zofie now that she had returned after fetching some stew that Cordelia had made for your post labor recovery was that something had shifted. She didn't see it at first. Too focused on not spilling the food in the bowl. Too eager to watch you eat something. To see the colors that surround you growing brighter. Because the labor had taken so much out of you. Too much even. But now... Now she was dang happy she wasn't holding anything in her arms as she brought her gaze up because it would have clattered to the floor. Zofie had barely sucked in a breath. Her whole body was seized. Her dad sat in a rocking chair, one they had both carved. The baby was cradled against his bare chest as Azriel rocked back and forth slowly, humming beneath his breath.

"Papa", her voice was barely a whisper, but it had always been enough. Azriel had always heard her. It was always enough for him to stop doing whatever he was doing, just... His eyes didn't shift upward to meet Zofie. He did hum beneath his breath in acknowledgment, but...

Zofie tightened her fist. That would have been fine. She could understand it. The baby had been born a house ago, but it was the color that had shifted... "Papa," Zofie called out once more, feeling that same overwhelming sensation building up in her chest. "Isn't she pretty, huh?", was what Azriel had said in return as he shifted the newborn in his arm, pulling the baby that fit in his palm away from his chest so he could admire her. A wave of love crashed into Zofie's shields. Such an insufferable amount of love. Love had nothing to do with her. Zofie let out a shaky breath. As the bits of yellow dusted away from Azriel's aura.

"I want to hold her too," Axel's voice sounded from behind her, making Zofie twist back to look at her brother, who had stepped into the room. She was supposed to feel as full of love as everyone else, but watching Azirel carefully lower Novie into Axel's arms made Zofie's guts twist. Novie. Why pick a name that sounded like a better version of her own name. "Support the head," Azriel said gently, teaching his son on how to properly hold the youngest addition of the family, "That's amazing, and be careful with the wings." Another wave of emotions plunged into Zofie. Wings. Mother, that girl was perfect. Perfect in ways Zofie would never be. She never particularly cared that she didn't have wings. She didn't remember what it felt like to have them. Thwy had been ripped out by her father the moment she was born. But no one wished any harm to Novie. No, she would have a loving family from her first breath. He first cry. A perfect girl for a perfect family. And she was Azriel's blood. She had bits of Azriels. Features that would no doubt always make him smile. Because he would stop and see you, see himself in her. Zofie could sense slithers of green twisting around her own aura. She was jealous. Jealous of a newborn that was an unflawed version of her. Same dark hair. Same perfect skin. Just she wasn't cracked or marked.

A warm hand reached out for her, and Zofie instantly pulled back. "Zo, babe, is everything okay?", your gentle eyes looked up at her. Zofie forced on a smile, reaching back to you because she knew if she pulled back fully, it would alarm you, and she couldn't. Couldn't bring herself to hurt you. "Granny wanted some help downstairs; I will come up shortly.", the lie came so easily that it was alarming. Your warm palm cupped her cheek. "Thank you for being here with me today," you muttered softly. Zofie bit the inside of her cheek. Fighting the tears as she nodded. She didn't even spare a glance at her father and brother as she walked out. She had stopped to linger by the door. Was hoping for someone to ask her to stay. To do anything, but all she was greeted with was gentle laughter that only clawed at her heart more.

Hurrying down the stairs, she nearly tripled over her own feet. Barely catching herself on the railing. "Careful, love," Cordelia called out, her hands holding the basket filled with bloody sheets. Zofie simply nodded. Her hand reached for the doorknob instantly. Yet her hand stilled for a heartbeat as she looked over the door frame. Looking for Azriel's shadows. Ones that always followed her around. Ones that were always just for her. But she found none. "Zofie," her grandma called after not getting a response to her warning. Zofie knew the decision had to be made right here and now. A heartbeat of thinking too long, and she would... Without allowing another thought to simmer, Zofie yanked the door open. The cold winter breeze hit her face. And then she ran. Her feet slipped through the snowed-on rocks. As she ran and ran and ran, as the ringing in her ears drummed.

Nyx's pow

He could have stayed back in the camp as his father came to fetch Axel when YN had gone into labor, but Nyx always wanted to come back home. There was always a pull. An ache that only eased enough when he was in Velaris. That disappeared when everyone was in the room. Sitting in one of the fancy armchairs, the princeling continued to scribble as his parents talked in the background. He used to be a noisy boy, trying to listen in but as of lately none of their conversations interested him.

Just like his mother, Nyx reached for the brushes as soon as he could hold one properly. After that, his sketchbook was always close by. Simply because at times the visions and ideas would get so overwhelming that he had to put them down on paper. And he was just casually doodling flowers and swirls when an urge to draw a river bank hit him. Nyx was almost sure that he could hear the water roaring. The snow crunching beneath the feet. It was messy the way his pen arched out trees and snow. But it was almost as if he couldn't scratch an itch. One that was followed by an urge to fly. It happened at times more often than not as of lately. But he never gave it much thought. Illyrians were born with the sound of wind blowing within their hearts. So the need to be up in a sky wasn't anything strange.

So Nyx was up and walking towards the stained glass door, the pen and sketchbook forgotten. His wings were already ready for takeoff. "Nyx, where are you going?", Feyre's soft voice had made him halt. "Just for a fly," he said bluntly. "It's snowing," Rhys chirped in. "That had never stopped you, dad." Nyx rolled his eyes, stepping closer to his mother. "I will be back in no time; don't worry, ma." Nyx pressed a kiss on his mother's temple before turning back.

Usually, he never had a specific place he flew to on his night cruise, but tonight, the south bank of the river was exactly where he knew he had to be. The wind was painfully sharp tonight. That icy, rain-like wind. That felt like thousands of needless digging against one's skin.

Nyx would have flown over with no care if he hadn't seen the same oak trees that he had been scratching just before he leaped out of the balcony. His breath hitched. His heart was drumming in his ear. Because a part of him... He dove down, running the last couple of meters as his feet hit the ground with an impact. "Zo," he breathed under his breath. Chest heavy, "Zofie," he said much louder. The girl turned back, holding herself up against the tree. His skin was pale blue, and her wild swept black hair frozen over at the tips. "Hey, hey," Nyx breathed out, hands up, as he approached the younger female as if trying not to spook her even more. "Nyx," Zofie's voice was raspy and frail. Too raspy. Too frail. Something primal rippled deep within the princeling's chest.

"Hey," he called out softly, his hands reaching out for her. "Fuck, look at me," Nyx softly moved to cup her face, her ink-black pupils stared right at him. Not Zofie. An ancient spirit stared up at him instead. "You're freezing..." Nyz moved his warm palms over Zofie's icy arms, trying to soothe the skin. "Zo, what..." he muttered, looking around. Trying to find anything. A threat. Danger. Attack. Wildlife. He wasn't sure, "Why are you here?" but his question was met with Zofie's icy fingers gripping his arms. "Nyx," she called out. "I'm here. I've got you. It's okay," he reassured her. "Come on," Nyx wrapped both his arms and wings around Zofie, shielding her from the cold. He let his warmth seep into her. She felt so good in his arms. His mother had always joked about how he had been enamored by Zofie from the moment they met. They laughed it off as a childish crush, but they didn't know that the feelings hadn't changed.

But then a harsh wave of reality hit Nyx, "Does Uncle know you're here?" He knew that Azriel wouldn't harm him. Not really, at least. But Zofie was his everything. Nyx had rather a hard time forming a relationship with his uncle because they had never reached common ground as far as Zofie was concerned. She sagged in his arms, and Nyx swiftly scooped her up. She was tiny compared to him. And weigh no more than a feather. "Zo, what the fuck?", he growled, feeling the worry growing with him. But she didn't answer him. Curling deeper into his embrace. Her palm rested against his chest, right over his heart. He didn't know what he was thinking, but as he pushed back from the ground, Nyx knew that they weren't going home.

•••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @justdreamstars

#nyx x oc #nyx x zofie #acotar imagine #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #nyx imagine #nyx x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader

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fras-redacted-shapes · 7 months

Text

Time is weird within the Oldest House

Spoilers for Alan Wake 2 and slight speculation for Control 2

Alright so. According to Estevez, HQ went dark and while she gives no hint as for how long it's been like that, it's safe to assume it's been four years due to how consistent the each Remedy game has been about the years they take place on.

Besides that, nothing is ever hinted at what's going on with the FBC's headquarters.

We know now time loops and spirals inside the Dark Place and that changes done there can bleed into reality (Jesse being told by a psychiatrist Zane is a filmmaker and not a poet, as she remembered him).

From the AWE DLC we know Jesse briefly witnessed Alan meeting Zane ("The Meeting" from now on), which came full circle in AW2.

From this event it's not unreasonable to assume two things:

1. The Meeting happened back in 2019.

The AWE DLC takes place before the ending of Control's and Foundation's story. This can be seen in the reports Emily writes about the new hiss enemies introduced in each dlc.

For the one introduced in AWE her title is still Research Specialist.

For the one in Foundation, her title is Head of Research. (also she got her Doctorate, you go girl!)

If this is holds up, Alan's timeline in AW2 has been bouncing back and forth way back from 2023.

Or, if you want a headache, even farther back given his role in Tom the Poet which came out before Zane disappeared. This is the poster in the Suomi Hall in Watery.

There's no hint yet if this change/addition of Alan writing a novel that inspired the film has made it past Watery and Bright Falls into the real world or was cleared at the end of the game.

This would also mean Ahti has been on vacations for four years.

2. The Meeting happened in 2023.

At the end of AWE dlc Langston says they're receiving an AWE alert from Cauldron Lake that is set a few years into the future. But is it?

What if it's actually the present, my dear beautiful Langston?

This would be consistent with the lack of any visual indication of the passage of time during the main story. There's none. And then, the Foundation DLC ends, and we see Dylan has grown hair and a beard.

Cute. But you know, Remedy has weaponized easter eggs. So no, I don't think Mr. comatose baldy growing a beard is a cute little detail they spent resources on.

We know by the time The Meeting takes place, Alan has not gotten out of the Dark Place yet, hence the alarm has not been activated (it goes off in the FBC monitoring station as soon as Alan/Scratch is transported back to the shore where Saga meets him for the first time).

If this holds up, then the timeline is more or less like this:

Ahti lets Jesse into the Oldest House in October 29th, 2019.

While Jesse is dealing with the Hiss, Alan unlocks Investigation Sector in the elevator.

Alan Meets Zane .

Jesse gets a glimpse of The Meeting.

Ahti gives Jesse his cassette players, goes on vacation.

Alan/Scratch gets out of the Dark Place (September 13th, 2023).

The AWE alarm sounds - and the signal made it into the Oldest House (September 13th, 2023).

Jesse takes down the Projector and deals with the Nail.

Dylan has grown hair.

Between point 4 and 5 more time could've passed, otherwise those are some short vacations for Ahti, it sounds like he's been in Watery for a while.

Therefore, during Control's main story, time was halted or passed very, very slowly when compared to the world outside.

How come?

With Remedy integrating their own alternate version of Quantum Break they might as well start using some of its harder science fiction approach. Alan has already mentioned the Dark Place as Dark Matter in one of his rambling videos. And well, this seems to have been the plan all along. From the chalkboard in Quantum Break:

There's been no text about black holes or matter density affecting space-time in any game as far as I remember. However, the imagery has been there with the Dark Presence vortex and certain images looking like event horizons.

So this is pure speculation:

The Oldest House is massive, it shifts, it expands and contracts. Could it be dense enough to affect space-time? could it do this on command?

It could be so dense that to those within its walls it'd seem like little to no time has passed, while outside at least four years have gone by.

The entire story is written in present tense in the missions menu, even after a mission has been completed (and the way the collectibles/mission menu was integrated as a world-building element with the Mind Place in Alan Wake 2, I don't think this was meant to be a cute weird little detail even back then).

Something happened during or after the events in the Foundation dlc, something shifted and now time is passing more or less normally. Or at least it is showing its effects on people.

Alice was seemingly cleansed from the effects the Dark Place had over her memory as soon she was brought inside the Oldest House. It's not unreasonable to assume this effect expands to protecting those within (those that are not too far gone, like Hartman). So the Oldest House would deal with time in its own terms, while the Dark Presence could make retroactive changes to certain details in the reality outside of it, like Zane going from poet to filmmaker.

Dylan's hair growth would indicate a month or two have passed at the very least by the end of Foundation. And from the one Control 2 concept art that has been shown so far, there are orange leaves in the pavement.

So Remedy could be planning to lift he lock-down during autumn. Autumn of what year? Heh, that's gonna be a fun one to find out.

As a counterpoint one could point at the game cinematic shots of the Oldest House from outside, they're always set at night across the story. It's just a detail that could've easily be a result of resource constraints. Yeah, not that it implies the story could've happened within one night.

Like with the clocks! You can point out at time being weird inside the Oldest House because none of the clocks are working! Time is literally frozen teehee, static textures on 3D assets, except for uh

Darling's Office in Central Research? Is that-

IS IT

IT'S WORKING

WHY DID YOU DO THIS REMEDY?

STOP-

(WE GET IT REMEDY, YOU'VE BEEN PLANNING IT ALL ALONG AND WHEN EVERYTHING IS LAID OUT IN CANON WE'LL FEEL SILLY BECAUSE THE HINTS WHERE THERE, IN OUR FACES, ALL THIS TIME)

Or you know, Control 2 will deal with the main cast enduring years of lock-down and the concept art is actually the end or middle of the game, and everyone exits the building on the year Control 2 releases.

Kind of lame in my opinion, but would make sense I guess.

Of course, there's another possibility I don't feel like following through:

The Dark Presence succeeded in changing the entire world and only The Oldest House and those inside remained intact. I mean, Dylan's easter egg in Foundation has some images

(that better not be a frozen ocean NO)

(NO, do not tell me this is the Huotari Well omg)

Hiss/Dark Presence became besties

And maybe, count Dylan's cut Hotline call. But that's cut content so strictly speaking, not canon (imagine it gets restored between Alan Wake 2 dlcs and the next Control game haha).

There are some things that should be brought full circle about the AWE dlc.

Alan is already aware of the FBC thanks to Estevez and Alice.

The sound fx aspect of the Hiss chant is basically lifted from the Cult of the Tree chanting (or you know, if you want another headache, it could be the other way around). And there are hints of verses from the Hiss incantation said out loud here and there. So pre-existing elements to give shape to a dadaist poem attributed to a hostile extra-dimensional resonance complete!

Has he yet come across the information from the FBC, that Hartman became a Taken?

He also kind of knows about the general plot of Control given he wrote a screenplay for an episode of Night Springs that was never produced.

It became clearer that Alan doesn't write whole new things or realities from scratch (shut up), that he writes from "visions" and vivid "nightmares" he's had. If that screenplay is a vision of the future of the events within the Oldest House, then that could be it.

However we haven't seen him become aware or gain knowledge of Polaris or Jesse herself beyond her extremely brief appearance during The Meeting.

This information has yet to make it outside the Oldest House (as far as we know) and only Dylan and Emily know about Polaris so far. Ahti too, maybe?

Sure, Alan could've somehow glimpsed something through the Oceanview Motel, he's got a door there anyways and he's gone through the Dark Place version of it (the Hotel), but this has not been made explicit like The Meeting.

Maybe The Lake House dlc will clear up that connection.

I mean yeah, that'd be fitting.

Don't forget one of the cut pieces from Control was The Oldest House opening a passage to Ahti's cabin in Finland, so The Oldest House being able to making an opening to Cauldon Lake is in Remedy's toolbox.

(I also think it'd be fair to see more of Jesse since Alan got a whole new 3D model in Control's AWE)

I'm missing a lot of things here I'm sure, I put this together more or less from things off the top of my head. I haven't gone through Control in a while so there are probably a more and clearer hints regarding time shenanigans within the Oldest House.

Also, AW2 timeline needs to be put on a wall to make sense of it. It'd look like a spiral, because of course.

#oops sorry I was supposed to be doing art #alan wake 2 #alan wake 2 spoilers #spoilers #control remedy #control game #control 2019 #remedyversetxt

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vaguely-concerned · 1 month

Text

Silly Garashir ficlet, Teen and Up-ish, mostly banter! CW: copious amounts of blood but like. Purely in a comedy capacity (don’t worry none of it is Garak’s)

“Good god,” Julian breathed, unable to do anything but stare for a moment.

“Oh, don’t worry, none of this is mine,” Garak said, dripping puddles of crimson onto the floor, calm blue eyes the only thing peeking out from the solid layer of blood covering his face and upper torso. “The gravest injury has been to my wardrobe, I assure you. As you might have gathered, I encountered our suspected evildoer as they sought to make their escape.”

“From the looks of things, I’d hazard it’s more accurate to say that they encountered you,” Julian said. He shook himself out of his momentary petrification and raised the medical tricorder to make sure Garak’s reports of being unharmed hadn’t been greatly exaggerated, as would sometimes be the case with him.

“However you would prefer to frame it,” Garak said, dipping his chin modestly and blinking globs of blood from his eyelashes. “I’m sorry to say I couldn’t ascertain many details about them, neither in terms of species or other identifying details. They were masked and coming at me with a knife at the time, which in the moment tends to blot out other considerations in one’s mind.”

Despite himself, Julian grinned at the performative airiness of Garak’s tone. He did seem to be basically fine. “I think that’s understandable under the circumstances, Garak. Odo’s probably going to track them down pretty quick, if they’re leaving a trail of blood across the station. Do you, er… want a handkerchief or something?”

“It’s very kind of you to offer, but I don’t think that’s going to do the job in this case.”

“No,” Julian had to admit, “no, you’re — probably right. I’ll let you go for a thorough sonic and peace and quiet once I’m done with this. I’m sure Odo will want a word with you later, though.”

Garak parted his lips to say something, and grimaced. “Ugh. Well, if it’s any help in figuring out the identity of our culprit, that’s definitely the taste of Napean blood. As you mentioned there will of course also likely be other clues, like them bleeding profusely as they sprint across the Promenade, but I always strive to be helpful wherever I can.”

“Garak!” Julian yelped, shooting him an alarmed look and continuing his inspection of the tricorder readings with renewed worry.

“Hm? Yes? You can run whatever tests you want on it to be sure, of course, but I am quite certain in my conclusion. There is a… distinctive tang to —”

“That’s so medically unsafe, you can’t go around ingesting —”

“Well, I hardly meant to ingest anything, Doctor, but it did end up all over my person in a way that makes it hard to entirely avoid,” Garak snapped, though he tolerated Julian going in for a second, even more thorough examination without complaint. “Maybe if this person hadn’t so rudely insisted on venting the contents of their arteries straight into my face during our tussle — ”

“Yes, yes, I understand, sorry, I wasn’t suggesting you did it on purpose or anything, but it does mean I really do need to monitor you for any allergic reactions or bloodborne… wait, wait, hang on, how do you even know what Napean blood — ”

Smiling in a way that aimed for beatific and missed it by way of too many bared teeth, in a manner that would probably be quite unsettling if Julian wasn’t so used to (so fond of, whispered a treacherous little voice in the back of his head) Garak’s face, Garak dabbed daintily at the worst of the blood dripping off his nose with his sleeve and said: “Do you really want to know, or is this your outsized curiosity running ahead of your better judgment again?”

“I’m going to be wondering about it all night, but no, I don’t think I want to know, actually. If I come back in a week and still can’t put it out of my mind, feel free to tell me, though. Or use that time to come up with a good story, I don’t mind.”

“Never any but the best for you, my friend,” Garak said fondly.

#garashir #star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #julian bashir #elim garak #I jumpscared myself today by checking the document wordcount and finding I have hit 10K of garashir fic wips from the last month or so #what. when. how did this happen. why is none of it like finished. why am I like this. etc.#most of it is nonsense like this b/c I love writing dialogue and they're like tailor made for that lol #my writing

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pedge-stuff · 1 year

Text

102 degrees (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked.” drop a line if you have a sug. (:

summary: maybe it's the fever talking, but Pedro might finally be ready to go public with your relationship.

————————————————————————

It’s not a whine, per se— more like a thin, whistle-y exhale as the press tents come into view. A noise of quiet resignation; Pedro is exhausted, and the night hasn’t even started.

There is little comfort you can offer. You’ve been careful not to touch his face or hair throughout the ride, per the explicit instructions of Mira. This has left you no option but the back of his neck, between the high collar of his overcoat and the lowest hang of his curls. You thumb rhythmically over the overly-warm, slightly damp skin. Small comforts.

Of course he’d wake up with the flu on the day of the biggest premiere of his career thus far. “Fucking shit-ass karma,” he’d groaned between dry heaves over the toilet that morning. Three negative covid tests and a house-call IV drip later (celebrity medical care is, you’ve come to realize, very fucking weird), he was semi-functional. But fucking miserable.

This once, you’ll give your grown ass boyfriend a pass for whining.

Though the windows are tinted, you are quick to remove your hand as the car pulls up. He is anxious enough about the evening, without having to worry about people seeing. You know the drill— low profile has basically become your middle name. The only thing worse than having the flu on premiere night, you muse, would probably be Pedro getting outed to the world.

“It’s going to be fine,” you insist softly, squeezing his knee. “Carpet, premiere, talkback, reception. Easy.”

He straightens out of his slump against you, taking a deep breath. “Easy,” Pedro repeated, unconvincingly. He sighs.

“Then a full cap of NyQuil and no alarm tomorrow morning.”

You dare to grip his hand, one last time, as the car slows to a stop. He brings yours to his lips, and presses a (noticeably fever-warm) kiss to the exposed skin of your wrist.

"Only thing getting me through this is the prospect of going back to bed with you tonight."

"Mr. Pascal, are you coming on to me?"

He offers a weak chuckle. "Ask me again when I'm not about to barf in the back of an Uber."

The car slows to a stop. Another deep breath, as Pedro slips an easy mask back into place. "Carpet, premiere, talkback, reception."

— — —

There are layers to the whole thing. You don’t begrudge his hesitancy, to publicly reveal your relationship. The few times a pap has caught you out together, the TMZ byline is something along the lines of “Pedro Pascal Seen Strolling Sunset with SNL Sidekick.” Perks of heteronormativity, you suppose.

It’s all him. You’ve been out for a long, long ass time— frankly, never thought you’d go back in, til suddenly you’re signing an NDA and attaching yourself at the hip to a man whose hand you can’t hold in public.

It’s not that he’s ashamed. (He reassures you of this often.) He’s just private, and unwilling to pop a bubble he’s lived comfortably in for the better part of five decades; sometimes, his perspective on (and fear of) public homophobia speaks volumes to the age gap between you.

So you stand back, under the cover of the press tents, watching Pedro walk the carpet. You’re in good company— Mira and Coco track him beside you with narrowed eyes, vigilantly monitoring him for accidental hair touches or makeup smudges.

He sways on his feet between interviews. Your heart clenches.

The carpet is short, much less elaborate than the ones at awards ceremonies. After a few interviews and a series of photographs, everyone starts slowly making their way into the theater.

You hang back in the lobby, a little unsure of how to proceed. There is guest seating in the mezzanine, mostly for the press reporters and various network reps in attendance. It's not a big venue. The main seating is reserved, obviously, for the people actually associated with the show. And their guests. Which is, technically, you, but... Well.

You maybe should have ironed this out prior to arrival. The whole flu thing kinda took priority.

"Yo!" There is a light shove on your shoulder. Bella, flush with excitement and fresh off the carpet, pulls you in for a quick hug. "Your man is so unwell."

They are laughing, though your heart clenches. Poor baby. "This would only happen to him," you agree. "He come in already?" You'd been scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Like a fan. (A fan that spent the better part of the morning pressing a cold washcloth to his neck, sitting on the bathroom floor.)

Bella cocked an eyebrow. "You guys are so fucking weird about this shit." They are privy to the details, courtesy of Pedro. Apparently it was a hot topic of conversation while killing time on set. You'd received many a FaceTime during long stop-downs between takes; calls you'd assume were your boyfriend, but had Bella cackling on the line after you picked up.

As if on cue, a mass of black fabric appears in your periphery.

"Are you conspiring to put me out of my misery?" Pedro is still wearing his 'everything is fine and I'm doing great' press smile.

"Duh." Bella smooths down the front of their blazer. "I think it's gonna start soon? I gotta find my mom."

They wade back into the dwindling crowd, leaving you and your germy boyfriend in the corner. Pedro's eyes are closed, as he takes measured breaths through his nose.

"Oh babe," you whisper quietly. "I'm sorry this is happening to you."

He softens. "It's okay. I'm okay. Gonna be honest, I'm relieved we're about to sit down for a couple hours."

"Just a few more hours left, that's all. I'll see you at the reception?" Your eyes drift to the door upstairs, behind the velvet rope separating press and attendees.

“Are we not—“ He clears his throat, voice breaking weakly. “Are we not sitting together?”

His eyes are glassy, but lack the same fever-bright quality he’d woken up with. The crease between his eyes deepens as he frowns. This feels like the start of a larger conversation that most definitely will not be happening in the lobby of the Regency Village Theater.

“We can,” you offer cautiously. “If that is what you want.”

A large, slightly trembly hand grasps your shoulder. “Of course that’s what I want, love. ‘M sorry. It’s dark, it’s safe, I just… I’m so tired.” The last part is admitted in a pained whisper. Your heart aches. It takes a concerted effort to not reach out and touch him. (It usually does, in public. He is a tactile aficionado– preens over little touches, forehead kisses, the brush of your hand over his hair. You offer these so frequently in private, that in public, your hand twitches regularly against the impulses.)

Pedro's manager waves from the other side of the room. He musters a small smile, releasing the grip on your shoulder. "Premiere, talkback, reception. Bed."

In the stiff theater seats, he leans so far over the armrest, you know his back will be sore later. But he tucks himself into your side the moment the lights dim, head on your shoulder. The frame of his glasses digs into your neck, and you couldn't care less. Your focus is on the lines he is tracing into your palm, large hand cupping yours in your lap.

The show is fantastic. Of course. The talkback is short, courtesy of Craig, and the reception is informal enough that you are in-and-out. Pedro makes the rounds while you make awkward small talk with Bella's mom (whose name you always forget, dammit, but she's lovely nonetheless). Take two sips of some cocktail called "Look for the Light" and wait for your cue to leave. Though you remain blissfully flu-free, you have been anticipating the conclusion of this evening as strongly as Pedro.

The Uber home has to make an emergency stop, so the star of the evening can puke water and crackers on the side of Mulholland Drive. You tip well.

And then, hours after he stepped onto the carpet, the prophecy is fulfilled. Pedro is tucked into bed, dogs at his feet, empty but blue-tinged medicine cap discarded on the nightstand beside a mug of water and his glasses.

His face is smushed into the pillow. Eyelids at half-mast, as he watches you change out of your simple suit and into a pair of well-loved flannel bottoms.

You don't need a shirt. On cue, your boyfriend octopus-latches as you slide under the covers, head resting on your bare collarbone.

"You did good tonight," you say, through a yawn. Reach up to tug the chain on the bedside lamp. Your other hand cards through Pedro's hair, detangling little clumps of hair spray he was too tired to brush out. "'M so proud of you."

"I mean it," he whispers back. "It's time. I'm sick of not being able to hold your hand."

Your lips brush his temple. 'We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Plenty of time for it," he mumbles, right on the cusp of sleep. "Since we're not leaving this bed."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal hurt/comfort #bella ramsey

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anoonimthepoorchad · 2 months

Text

There are many ways Ukrainians monitor the air raids led by russia in our country. There are social media channels, updating the info in real time as soon as they learn the changes in courses and other info from their closed sources or locals reporting the explosion sounds. The radio and the tv also announces which regions (oblasts) are in active danger. There are other official sources, among which are official air raid apps from the government, which not only announce the danger with loud noises, waking you up from the deepest of sleep, but also notify when the missiles, drones, or other weaponry is moving in the direction of your location, your town or city. Usually the loud sound it produces is the mimicry of the sirens, or the whooping alarm bell to indicate urgent danger.

This is very useful when you're alone or asleep, as these apps are usually quite loud. But when you're among other people, hiding in a shelter from the air raid, the moment new info about urgent danger is released, there's a wave of alarm bells from almost each phone in sight. I turned mine off some time ago because I can't stand noises from my phone and am a light sleeper. But lately we've been going to the subway to stay the night when an air raid is announced, and I sleepily "monitor" the situation based on these waves of notifications

#ukraine #war in ukraine #stand with ukraine #russia #russia is a terrorist state #important #proud to be ukrainian #fuck russia #russian war crimes #air raid #current events #civilian life during war

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latelyanobsession · 2 years

Text

Brusk Manners

summary you and billy are having a typical roll in the sheets when things take a sharp left turn. safe to say you weren’t expecting him to bring this into your routine. but are you mad about it?

warnings 18+ content and descriptions, smut, little to no plot, trying new things, overstim (?), so many tears, spanking, praise, unprotected intercourse, lots of goodies...

word count 2,491

note i have finally decided to write the content that i want need to see. now you cowards can join me down here in hell where its toasty or you can stay where it’s just vanilla and rainbow sprinkles. hope you babes enjoy the depravity! 😉

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

A soft breeze kissed your nose, brushing your cheek as you turned another page in your book.

Flipping to your stomach on your bed, you sighed staring out the window. It was a beautiful August afternoon. The summer was winding down.

Soon school would be back in session, and a report on this book would have to be turned in.

You hated this book. With its tiny print font, and its dry Victorian language which you could hardly comprehend. You swore the teacher picked it out just to torture you.

Who read Madame Bovary for fun anyways?

You pouted your lips, forcing your eyes back onto the page. Finding the passage you had abandoned, grumbling.

A low moan pulled your attention away from the sentence you were trying to decipher.

“Mmm.... do you always lay around like that?” A blonde peeping-tom was leering in your window.

Looking down at your bra and panties, you looked back at your visitor.

“Well it’s not like I’m going anywhere today....” you replied simply.

He disappeared a moment, scraping sounds could be heard under your window before he clambered up, and pulled himself over the windowsill into your room.

Your parents were going to eventually regret giving you a first floor bedroom, even if the window was eight feet off the ground.

Flopping out onto your carpet he smirked at you.

“Yer killin’ me!” he exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes, rising off the bed to kneel next to him.

“You know you could have just come to the door... Nobody’s home.” you prodded lightly.

Tracing a hand up your thigh, he eyed the matching set you had on. Not answering.

The two of you had been having a summer fling ever since he first spotted you in a sleek little black number at the Hawkins Community Pool back in early June.

When everything happened with the mall fire and Billy was hospitalized, things died out between you.

You visited him many times while he was recuperating. Mostly while he had been unconscious.

The day you came when he finally woke up, he yelled at you, setting off the alarm on his heart rate monitor.

Aside from his family, and that group of kids his sister hung out with... you were the only one who had come by to see him.

One time sneaking a pack of Marlboros under his pillow, for when he came around.

The second time you came back to see him after he awoke, he was still just as angry at you.

So you stopped coming. Tucking your tail and sulking off like a puppy shoved out of the house and into a raging storm.

A couple weeks after his release from the hospital, he showed up on your doorstep. You were shocked.

“Max said you came to see me every day?” His voice was laced with guilt.

Your cheeks flushed. “Should I not have? I’m sorry.”

His sister was in the passenger’s seat of his camaro, staring at you intently.

He winced, throwing up a hand to stop you.

“I was a dick....shouldn’ta been.”

He turned to walk off.

“Thanks for the smokes....”

You supposed that had been an apology.

From that time on he would swing by your work, pick you up and drive you out to secluded areas around Hawkins for quickies in the backseat of his car.

On any given day off, you would spend it more often than not in your bedroom, in multiple positions.

Tossed around and rutted against until your voice was hoarse and your insides were so sore that sitting the next day would be difficult.

There was no spoken label on what you two were to each other. But what you were unofficially was necessary.

“Billy...?” his oceanic eyes looked up at you.

“Did you just come to stare?... I know it wasn’t for the summer reading list.” you teased.

Slipping a finger under your waistband and snapping it against your skin, he chuckled.

“Y’know me too well.” he rose from the floor, pulling you along with him.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you flush against his chest, his hands wandering south and grabbing a handful of your ass. Squeezing roughly.

Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you gasped.

“How’s bout I take your mind off that book for a while?” he thrummed, nuzzling the soft skin of your neck. A sharp nip grabbing your attention.

“Yes! Puh-lease!” you agreed excitedly.

He gruffly shoved you, the back of your knees knocking against the bed, as he easily toppled you.

Kicking off his high-tops, he crawled on top of you. Hands ghosting up your sides.

“If I knew ya paraded around like this...” he wandered off, hooking his index finger under the center of your bra and lifting you up towards him.

Placing open mouthed kisses across the tops of your breasts, up your collarbone, and to your jaw, he slowly accentuated each one with a small wet pop.

“definitely woulda been fuckin’ ya sooner.” he concluded. Sliding a hand around your neck, gently squeezing as his lips found yours.

You whimpered eagerly, plucking at his bottom lip with your teeth as he slotted his mouth against yours hungrily.

He growled in response, tossing you back against the bed, tearing the white muscle tank over his head and discarding it.

Reclaiming your lips he crooked his thumbs around your waistband, inching them down off your frame, and whisking them from your ankles to the floor.

You were already glistening with arousal.

He smirked at the sight, tongue peeking between his teeth.

“Look how wet you are...” he breathed, jerking your hips into his lap, “haven’t even touched ya!”

You watched him with bated breath. Eyes wide and lust blown.

Pulling you up higher and draping your legs over his shoulders, he locked eyes with you.

He smirked, tongue barely contained. Winking at you devilishly before he dove straight in.

Pressing his tongue flat against your slit, he ran it teasingly from top to bottom. Probing your entrance, causing your head to fall back onto the mattress.

He pinched your ass, making your eyes snap back open and refocus on him.

You whined loudly, your hips rolling in tandem with each pass that his tongue made.

“Billy...” you whimpered, his ministrations becoming more focused. Every swipe becoming harsher, tantalizingly longer. Dragging his tongue out against your clit and suckling it between his teeth.

Your hips were beginning to stutter, grinding greedily against his mouth. That all familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach.

“So close” you heaved out in short panting breaths.

And like that he dropped you. Without ceremony.

Thumping into the mattress.

“S’not nice to tease Billy...” you sniveled, your chest rising and falling with just how close you truly were.

Shedding the rest of his clothes he climbed back onto the mattress.

A smug look on his face.

“You’re gonna cum...” he mocked your quivering lip, coaxing you to lift up as he pried off your bra and carelessly tossed it.

“Just when I want ya to.” he chided.

Grabbing your leg, he wrenched your body down the length of the bed to meet him.

Looming over you he smirked, the corners of his lips pricked in wicked delight.

“You’re a real sight like this....” he teased, eyes washing over you as he licked his lips.

“Ya gonna continue to tease me... or fuck me?” you huffed out in a shaky response.

He regarded you with a vulturous stare, grabbing up your wrists and pinning them above your head.

Darkly watching your expression, he rut himself several times against your sopping folds. Slicking himself.

Angling your hips, you chewed your lip in anticipation as you felt him press the head of his cock to your entrance.

“Billy!” you mewled loudly as he pushed deeper, sheathing himself fully inside you.

“Fuck baby!” he exhaled sharply, leaning in and capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Slinging your legs around his waist, you kissed him back feverishly as he started to move.

Breaking the kiss, he extended his back out. Leveraging his height to draw his hips back and drive into you with harsh deep strokes.

Each contact pulling deep breathy moans from your throat in rapid succession.

Arching your back, you pulled him closer. High-pitched whines falling from your lips.

Heat was rippling across your skin, your desire building. Coiling inside you.

The sound of skin on skin was echoing through the room, as Billy leaned close, biting your swollen lips.

“Hold on....” he warned.

“What?” you breathed.

He effortlessly flipped you to your stomach, raising you up on your knees.

You went scrambling, clutching at the sheets as he slammed his pelvis against you.

“Billy!” you keened shrilly.

A hand came down against your ass, and you choked. A broken moan shamefully leaving your body.

Another.

A deep growl leaving his chest. “Like when I fuck you this way, huh?”

“Yeh” you practically sobbed.

Digging your fingers into the mattress, you started pressing yourself back meeting him thrust for thrust.

A deep rumble of approval emitted from his throat as he smacked both your asscheeks.

“There she is... there’s my girl.” he praised.

“Close!” you warned, crashing yourself back against him.

You were wound tight. Starting to feel a bit lightheaded. Right on the very precipice.

Wrapping his hand around your neck, he pulled you to his chest, picking up his pace.

Running a hand down your front, he lazily fondled your clit. Making you cry out, and clutch at him.

“How close?” he taunted, thrusting deep.

You grimaced, wriggling in his hold. The stimulation making you clamp down on his wrist. Digging in your nails to stay grounded.

“Billy!” you begged brokenly, “-’m right there.... please!”

He toyed with you, his thrusts becoming unhurried and fingers dancing on your tense bundle of nerves.

“Hmmmm.” he contemplated.

You turned in his grasp as best you could, looking up at him. Head resting against his chest.

“Please.” you pled, watery doe eyes flashing up at him.

He grinned down at you wolfishly.

Resuming his pace he pumped back into you, targeting your clit with rough and constant pressure.

“Ok. Baby...” he cooed, “you can cum.”

Not releasing your grip, you held onto him as you felt the tidal wave hit. Washing over you in a sudden rush of warmth.

Your jaw falling slack, and eyes rolling back as your walls compressed around him.

You felt Billy slowing as your climax hit. Which was highly unusual, but collapsing into the mattress, you didn’t think to question it.

He pulled out making you whimper.

Panting you lay there, limply. Head swimming as you tried to gather yourself back up.

“Wanna try somethin’...” he drawled from behind you, stroking his knuckles up the length of your thigh.

“Ok...” you said dreamily.

Something wet and slippery hit your ass, his fingers massaging your skin.

You ignored him, feeling increasingly tired.

That was until he started trailing his fingers between your asscheeks.

You turned your head curiously.

You were exhausted. He should be exhausted.

Blinking with glossy eyes, you watched him. Feeling his fingers sliding and circling around that tight ring of muscle.

He cautiously pressed his index finger against it, gaging your reaction. You simpered weakly, not rebuffing him.

Gaining confidence, Billy pushed further, slipping a digit inside. You whined softly without lifting your head.

You had admittedly never held this conversation with Billy before. Granted you also hadn’t expected him to spring it on you when you were this tired.

So far, it didn’t seem so bad, compared to all the horror stories you had heard. It actually felt pretty good.

After a while of gliding his finger in and out he decided to add another. Your whimpers only encouraging him.

“It hurt?” he asked.

“No...” you replied airily, lolling your head to the side.

If anything, you may have believed that you were beginning to love the feeling. And whined out when he withdrew his fingers.

Laying your head to the bed you sighed in disappointment, tensing when something much much larger touched you.

Looking over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Billy.

The apprehension in the air was palpable.

“You liked it so far...” he reasoned.

“Fingers aren’t cock!” you squeaked.

He looked at you guiltily. “Please?”

You snorted sharply.

“You’ll stop if I say?” you asked warily.

“Yes. Course!” he replied, “I’ll go slow...”

You lay there and thought. ... And thought.

“Ok... but go like... real slow.” you instructed.

He nodded, “I will.”

“Yah gotta relax babe...” he soothed, stroking your back.

You took a deep breath, trying not to think about it, letting yourself slip back into your sleepy state.

“That’s it. Good.” he cooed, continuing to run his hands up your spine.

You closed your eyes, focusing on his touch.

Thoroughly coating himself in lube against your skin he gingerly guided himself in.

The first couple of seconds felt fine. The rest of it nowhere near.

The stretch felt unreal, you thought for certain he was ripping you apart.

He was groaning, biting his lip. “Fuck! So fuckin’ tight!...”

White hot pain with every intrusive inch making you moan. No. Scream.

Tears falling out of your eyes beyond your control as he pushed his way in.

Fully seated against you he waited.

“Are you ok?” he questioned in concern.

You blinked in shock, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. The sting, the throb, the sensitivity. It was all addling your mind.

“Y-yeh... think so.” you spluttered out.

He reassuringly kissed your shoulder, slowly pulling back setting a light pace.

A heady moan raked your frame, as he started in. Your body growing more accustomed to the sensations and his size.

The pain was subsiding being replaced with a sensation that made your stomach flip and insides quiver.

Your moans were growing louder. Bolder.

“P-pick it up...” you begged, propping your knees underneath your weakened frame.

“You sure?”

“Yes” you dragged out in a long broken plea.

He groaned, slapping your ass. “Oh what a good girl! Love all the ways I fuck you?”

Gaining speed, his thrusts slammed into you. Your cries reverberating off the walls. The bed shaking.

“I’m gonna make this ass mine”, he growled, his hands groping the globes of your ass. “Would you like that baby?”

You threw your head back mewling in reply. “B-billy!”

His thrusts were growing rougher, sloppier.

Bending over top of you he pressed himself flush against you as his orgasm hit.

Grinding into you, spurring a climax of your own. Making you clench down around him. Your vision hazing over.

He growled, filling you, as you keened at the top of your lungs.

You both collapsed. He carefully pulled out, rolling to his back. Breathless.

Weakly, you looked at him. A dumb grin plastered across his face.

“So...” he panted, “would you ever do that again?”

#stranger things smut #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n

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timetoletmyimaginationfly · 4 months

Text

One Gift From You

Nanami Kento x Reader

Happy Valentine’s Day my readers! I hope you enjoy!

(Song Inspiration: Like No One Does by Jake Scott)

Nanami: I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m being held up at work again.

You sighed deeply. It’s been about a month since he’s been stuck at work lately. But you know you couldn’t say much. You knew that having a boyfriend who is a sorcerer is going to be a lot. Even when Nanami warned you and gave you a few opportunities to back out, you chose to stay six years later.

You: I understand! Come home safe, honey. I have dinner left on the table for you. I love you❤️

And you were the non-sorcerer. You worked as a nurse and worked overnight shifts. And if Nanami returns home on time, you at least have ten minutes with him before you leave for work. You routinely clock in early, learn about your patients, and roughly plan your night before you get report.

And despite the short interaction you get with Nanami in the evening, you at least get to have a few hours with him before he leaves for work. Or at least until you fall asleep. You make his coffee and breakfast before you wash up for bed, even though he tells you not to.

“Sweetheart, you worked your third night,” Nanami said. You smiled and gave him a soft kiss.

“I know. But I love making you coffee,” you said. “And you said that you love the coffee I make.” Nanami would pull you in close to his arms.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said.

“You’re silly. You do so much for me.”

“Because you do everything for me.”

“It’s because I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You sat by the computer. You drank your coffee and typed away, mentally ready to run to your patient’s room if something were to happen. After a few sentences of typing, you looked up and stared at the room. You looked at the monitors. Everything was okay.

“She okay?” the primary attending asked as he walked by. You nodded.

“After earlier, yeah she’s good,” you answered. You let out a small yawn. A cup of hot coffee was placed by your computer. You smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Doppelgänger.” He lightly laughed.

“I don’t see the similarities between me and your boyfriend.” You unlocked your phone and compared the picture between the attending and Nanami.

“Nah, you’re the doctor version of him.” He chuckled and shook his head at your silliness as he took a sip of his coffee.

“You two planned a fun date for tomorrow?”

“No, why?”

“Valentine’s Day. I’m surprising my wife. No matter how many times I tell her, she keeps forgetting,” he said.

“What?!” you questioned, your voice slightly louder and looked at your phone. You frowned. “I forgot.”

“Your birthday was a few days ago.”

“I forgot too.” He ruffles your hair playfully. His cell phone suddenly ringing, already walking away once he answered the call. You sighed. Usually, you and Nanami would plan something small for Valentine’s Day. But the two of you have been busy lately, especially Nanami. You heard your name get called from your coworker.

“You don’t mind keeping an eye on my patient?”

“I don’t mind, but maybe ask another nurse too? Just in case I’m busy with mine.”

“Thank you!”

It was past midnight. Your phone brightened and you smiled.

Nanami: Goodnight sweetheart❤️ I miss you and I love you❤️

You: Sweet dreams! I miss you too honey! I love you too❤️

The sounds of Nanami’s alarm woke him up at 6AM. He rubbed his tired eyes and looked at his phone. He cracked a smile from the missed text messages from you. All of them about how your night is going. And from the looks of it, it seemed to go pretty well so far. But after all the stories you tell him, there’s a good possibility that something was bound to happen before you left.

Quickly, he headed to the bathroom and shower. He wore his usual uniform without the jacket and decided to let his hair relax for now.

Two hours passed. He heard the door open and he heard your keys jingle as you closed the door. He heard you call his name. You sounded chirpy and awake. More than usual after a third night of work. Nanami headed to the door and smiled softly.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply. You felt your heart race from his kiss. Six years together and he still gives you that effect. “How was work?”

“Way better than expected. My patient stayed stable. That’s all I needed for a good night,” you answered happily. “How was work? Did you get home too late?”

“Gojo-san kept pestering me to go out around 9. So we went out for drinks with Ieiri-san and I arrived home around 11:30,” he answered. “Work was good though.” You leaned up and kissed him again.

“Gonna keep your hair like this?” you asked curiously.

“Depends. How do you me to have it today?”

“Mmmm you can keep it like that for now.”

“I have something to show you.” Nanami held your hand and dragged you to the kitchen. Your eyes widened.

Nanami set up dinner. Two plates of pasta was placed on the table. A glass of red wine and a glass of water. A bouquet of red roses and sunflowers sat in between the meals and a small black velvet box sat in front of the flowers.

“Kento, what is this?” you asked with a large smile on your face. Nanami chuckled and lead you to the counter.

“Our Valentine’s Day dinner for breakfast,” he answered. “I knew you forgot. I took the opportunity to surprise you.”

“You got sunflowers?”

“They’re your favorite, sweetheart. I have another gift for you.” He left the kitchen and as quick as he left, he returned back. You gasped when a book bouquet appeared in his arms. You ran to him and looked at the books in the bouquet mixed with wildflowers. They were the ones you saved in your cart.

“How—When—Kento!” Nanami lightly laughed.

“I checked your cart list,” Nanami said with a playful smile. “You got a lot on the list. You should spoil yourself every now and then. Do you want me to pay for more?” You quickly shook your head.

“Thank you, though,” you said. You looked at Nanami. You gently brushed his hair away from his eyes. You felt yourself melt in his eyes and smile. “You truly are the best.”

“I want to be the man that you deserve.”

“And you are. I feel bad. I completely forgot about Valentine’s Day that I didn’t get anything for you.”

“I think I can change that.” You cocked your head slightly, looking at him with puzzled eyes. Nanami placed your book bouquet on the empty side of the counter and picked up the velvet box. Your eyes widened. You didn’t want to assume.

“Kento?” Softly, he called your name. Slowly, Nanami opened the box, revealing a diamond engagement ring that made you gasp. You felt tears from in your eyes.

“I bought this ring four years ago,” he confessed. He softly chuckled at your more surprised expression. “I waited for you to finish school. But then you were still busy so I waited and waited. And then I got busy. And…sweetheart. I love you. You’re so hardworking and do everything with no complaints. You still make sure I have food when I come home from work before you leave for work. You make me coffee when you come back. You make sure our home is tidy. It’s like I don’t deserve you because you go above and beyond for me.” You softly wiped your tears away before he got down on one knee. “And now that we finally have a romantic moment together, will you do me the honor and marry me?”

“Yes,” you said. Nanami slid the ring on your finger and picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You laughed and kissed him. “You’re not the only one who feels that way.” Nanami raised an eyebrow. “The way you massage my feet and legs after every shift, no matter how much sleep you got. The way you set up a hot bath when I text you how horrible my night was. When I’m too tired to cook, you order food from one of my favorite restaurants. Kento, you buy me something every week even when I don’t need it. You are a dream come true.”

“Am I?”

“Of course. You come home late from work, you hold me tightly because you know how worried I get. You let me cry in your arms without complaints. Nanami Kento, I can’t wait to become your wife and continue to do the things I love doing for you because I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed you one last time before you pulled your phone and took a picture of your ring.

“Now I can show your doppelgänger my ring!” Nanami laughed.

“I don’t see the resemblance, sweetheart.” You playfully rolled your eyes. Nanami pulled your chair out and the two of you clinked glasses to celebrate.

Fun fact: Last week in my clinical, I kid you not I found my bf’s doppelgänger! I literally rubbed my eyes, thinking I was going crazy😂 I’m a nursing student and if you guys read some of my stories, I usually have the reader as a nursing student, nurse, or a tech. It’s the most relatable for me.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami jjk #jjk fluff #jjk

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ikroah · 9 months

Text

I've given everything I have, didn't know I'd run up such a tab, Oh, Lord, ain't the reapin' ever done? —“Ain’t the Reapin’ Ever Done,” Eddie Noack (1972)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #25 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding IV

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

At long last! As I've mentioned a few times, this issue got...delayed because I spent 2023 getting divorced, falling in love again, going outside, touching grass, laughing, playing, et cetera. But even if you toss all that aside this issue would still have been a doozy because I've been wanting to try an issue in this artstyle, and with a much large page size, for...well, for over a year now, ha. The thumbnails for this issue are nearly a whole year old!

Usually I have a lot of fun commentary about how a script changes over the course of working on an issue, or how the production panned out, but the making of this issue has been stretched over such a long time that I can't even begin to really describe it. Lemme just show you the original pencils so we can get out of here and move onto the next one, which will hopefully take far less than the time it takes to carry a pregnancy to term.

Oh, actually, there is one thing! If you spotted this happy couple on the first page, then check out @memepipboy's comics too.

Also, here's Vulpes in the dead Yamcha pose.

Which is also about how I feel after going on a bender of productivity last week to get the whole issue colored before it slipped away again.

Original Pencils:

Transcript:

EXT. NEW VEGAS STRIP. A small plaza outside the casinos is flushed with lights and people, all coming and going, even at such a late hour. The crowd is monitored by the Strip's POLICE SECURITRONS. Two people are exiting a casino: ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, and

MESSENGER: AGNES SANDS!

AGNES: Oh God, I'm--

AGNES: --wait, are you NCR?

The MESSENGER that has called out AGNES' name is a surly and middle-aged man in uniform.

MESSENGER: Correct, ma'am. I'm a messenger.

AGNES: Courier, huh.

CASS: Hell do you want, boot boy? We're busy.

MESSENGER: Your presence is requested at the embassy on the south side of the Strip.

The exchange has caught the eye of a BYSTANDER READING A NEWSPAPER.

AGNES: You said requested, as opposed to, um, required?

MESSENGER: Yes. I'll be blunt with you, Sands: the incident near Gecko and your subsequent desertion have made you a fugitive of military police since 2269. I'm sure you know that--but this is not an arrest.

MESSENGER: This isn't even about your personal case, necessarily. It's only from chance reports at the Mojave Outpost and Boulder City that intelligence was made aware of your presence here at all. The NCR merely wants to let you know that you--as well as your companion--are persons of interest to us in two of our other open investigations: the Legion raid on Nipton, and recent terrorist attacks on merchants in the area such as Crimson Caravan.*

CAPTION: *Various events of IKROAH #7-16. -Lou.

MESSENGER: There's also some other matters, which are classified.

CASS, at AGNES' side, listens intently. Then she glares at AGNES, who is grimacing but avoiding her eye contact.

MESSENGER: Now, our intelligence officers only want to speak to you, not arrest you. So there should be no cause for alarm or any worry on your part. It's your choice to come to us willingly--and on your own time. But--

AGNES sweats nervously.

MESSENGER: My orders are to make this next part very clear. This is merely the current state of our interest in you and your companion. If your presence does become required, as opposed to merely requested, by the NCR--and it very well may--

MESSENGER: --consider this a nice, friendly notice. I'm here because the NCR knows where you are. And the NCR wanted you to know that, because it wants you to keep it in mind as you mull over whether--and when--you might be feeling co-operative. That is all. We'll be in touch, Miss Sands.

The MESSENGER departs. The BYSTANDER READING A NEWSPAPER observed the entire exchange. The moment that the MESSENGER is gone, he speaks:

BYSTANDER: Ahh...I must admit, it does make me glad when people discuss my work.

AGNES: W-what?

CASS: Pardon?

BYSTANDER: And it was fortunate, as it turns out, that you were spared that night in Nipton.

AGNES: Oh...oh no--

CASS: --YOU?

BYSTANDER: Very fortunate indeed--

The BYSTANDER grins.

BYSTANDER: --that you were spared from the burning tires, spared from the teeth of the dogs, spared even from the cross and stake--all of this, there, was the finest work yet of VULPES INCULTA--against the profligates of the west, and for the glory and the might of CAESAR'S LEGION.*

CAPTION:*IKROAH #9. -Lou.

AGNES and CASS are transfixed where they stand, taken aback by the reveal. CASS scowls while AGNES squirms with terror. She remembers:

The raging fires and the horror show of NIPTON. Crucified bodies and dogs to eat the corpses.

VULPES: During our talk in Nipton, I admittedly became quite curious about you, Agnes. You had intrigued me for some reason, and I wanted to know what it was. Only later did I finally place it.

Her hands up in front of her face, a futile barrier between herself and three men. Benny. His gun, pointed at her, shining in the light from the moon and the lantern.

VULPES: A tabloid story from the news on the radio. A courier shot in the head near Goodsprings Cemetery.

The SECURITRON with the cowboy face, VICTOR, carried her out of her grave. Or so she was told.

VULPES: --who miraculously returned from the grave. It was you.

There were three men. Two besides Benny. She found them later, one was dead and the other had two more with him.

VULPES: It was also you, as I would later discover...who slaughtered that pack of Great Khans in Boulder City. Clearly no ordinary courier.

VULPES: Why, even now, you assassinate the leader of the Chairmen in his own casino--in his own bedroom, no less. Very impressive.

AGNES: But how did you--

VULPES: Know? From one saboteur to another, I do have to commend you, Agnes. You're quite covert...for someone who had no reason to realize that she was already being watched, that is. Just as we have been watching Benny, the dearly departed.

VULPES grins wider.

VULPES: My network of frumentarii have detected something of a conspiracy in Vegas...something about a certain piece of platinum, I hear. Which reminds me--the mail has gotten so unreliable lately, don't you think?

AGNES is visibly panicked as VULPES continues.

VULPES: The NCR'S interest in you is not misplaced, Agnes Sands, given your recent exploits.

CASS is suddenly going down the casino steps--

VULPES: But I doubt that they are as quite aware of the bigger picture as--

--and raising her fist, and--

VULPES: the--

--punching VULPES in the face.

SFX: WHAM!

VULPES is flung to the ground, his nose bloodied. One of his teeth have been knocked clean from his mouth. He stares upward, in disbelief, up at the furious woman who's laid him out.

VULPES: Ah...yes. Rose of Sharon Cassidy. I've--

PTOOEY. A wad of spit splats against VULPES' cheek. CASS points a finger at him as he shuffles back onto his feet.

CASS: Get my name out of your mouth right now. I'm not afraid of you. You just piss me off. And unless you get lost I'll deck you so hard that you forget my name. Hopefully how to form complete sentences, too.

CASS: I think we've heard enough, you goddamn dogfucker, and whatever you're selling, we don't fucking want any.

VULPES: Ah...so no less impudent than last time, despite...well.

VULPES wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand, muttering from behind his palm in LATIN.

VULPES: Sī cognōscere nōn vīs canis senex tum nēquam praeter futuendum eris.

VULPES reaches his bloody hand toward his dislodged hat.

VULPES: Agnes--the Legion has a particular use for you, a use which comes with certain courtesies that are not extended to your companion.

VULPES: ...she would do well to keep this in mind.

VULPES returns his hat to his head. AGNES has rejoined CASS at the base of the steps.

AGNES: "Use?" What use? I don't have anything--I mean, I'm not--whatever you--whatever the Legion wants with me, I don't know anything. About this, or about Benny. If you want the chip, I--

VULPES: Agnes, Agnes--you're a terrible liar. Or else just terribly naive.

VULPES turns to leave.

VULPES: If the NCR is interested in you, and they are, then seizing you for ourselves is certainly useful enough on its own. But truthfully, this isn't about the NCR. The Legion is interested in you--I am interested in you--because Mr. House is interested in you. You and that chip.

AGNES: Mr. House!? But I...no, no, I just thought the chip--

VULPES: Vale, courier. And vale, Rose of Sharon Cassidy. And be safe in your travels, if you can help it--you never know when somebody might be watching.

As VULPES departs, a SECURITRON approaches behind AGNES and CASS, casting a shadow over the both of them.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #rose of sharon cassidy #vulpes inculta #agnes sands #caesar's legion #new california republic #ncr #ikroah archive #volume 02 #25

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year

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Can we see arranged!verse meeting batman for the first time?

There was one thing about being married you rather enjoyed. And that was being able to go where you wanted without a chaperone... presumably so long as you didn't abuse it.

Bruce didn't seem to care if you stayed at home at night or not. He really didn't even seem to notice you at all unless there was someone else in the room... You supposed it was better than being monitored constantly. But that didn't mean you weren't lonely.

At least at home. Being out was better. Even if the rain wouldn't stop and the constant drizzle played havoc with your hair. There was some comfort in the noise. In everyone knowing your name... wanting to talk to you. To know you. Girls- women now that had mocked you and been mean to you in school wanted to be your friend. Wanted to be invited to your parties. It was incredible- and overwhelming.

So for a moment, you escaped to the rooftop. Taking a moment to light a cigarette and just watch the city. Cars like ants trail over the streets, following each other to destinations unknown.

You exhale a cloud of smoke and sigh. You should go home. You have an interview to give and you need to write a few letters- but. God it's like rattling around in a tomb.

"Those things will kill you-"

The deep gravelly voice makes you jump and you wheel around, alarmed- and then relieved when it's the Batman instead of a reporter.

"Maybe," you acknowledge, putting it out anyway. "Gonna snitch me out?"

"Not if you tell me what I want to know," he said keeping his distance. You weren't a suspect. So far as he could tell you didn't do anything wrong. But- every crime boss in the city knew you. And had dealings with your father... For now, you might be the safest woman in Gotham. They had a vested interest in keeping you alive. Assuming that your father was working with Bruce Wayne.

"It depends on what you need to know," you tell him honestly. "My father is... old school. Wives and daughters are meant to be seen and not heard-"

"But you have eyes and ears," he snapped, stepping forward. You had to know something.

"I might," you sigh, taking a shaking breath. "But I doubt it. Father is good at keeping us in the dark."

"What do they want with Bruce Wayne?"

"I don't know. I only know they want- well. I'm disappointing them."

"Why?" he growled. Annoyed. Wondering why you weren't afraid of him.

"Because he doesn't- I mean. He doesn't really... want me."

Bruce stepped forward. Making sure he was towering over you, "Why do you think that is?" Bruce challenged, gratified when you rocked back to put some space between you. Weak. You'd been wrapped in cotton wool your whole life. It would be easy to get you to break.

"I don't know," you say softly, wrapping your arms around yourself. "All I know is that if I can't get him to... soon. Well. My father is going to take matters into his own hands and... I don't want to. I can't- I don't know how to- I." You stop, biting your lip and looking away. Feeling stupid. But when a gloved hand tilted your chin up to make you look at him, you shiver. And you don't know if you're afraid or something else.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #arranged!verse 2.0

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kairiscorner · 11 months

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(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

holy shock guys you need to restrain me rn

so imagine,

overworked salary man miguel o'hara x reader

day in, day out; from 8 in the morning to 5 in the evening, from monday to friday, miguel o'hara goes to work. not by choice, mind you, but to "serve his purpose in society and keep money and services flowing" for the insatiable society he is cursed to live in. he grumbles every morning when his alarm clock for 6:00 AM on the dot beeps and beeps until he decides to live that morning his mundane existence.

begrudgingly, he gets up and off the bed, dreaming to himself in his half-asleep stupor about how wonderful it'd be to get back under the covers and pretend he didn't have anything worthwhile to do. actually, he didn't need to pretend; his work was just that, anything but worthwhile. miguel has lost track of time on multiple occasions, only checking the calendar when he has nothing to work on, which is incredibly rare, mind you, and the look on his face when he realizes monday wasn't yesterday, for today is now friday.

miguel used to be a more sociable, confident, and sort of cocky guy. before he knew about the turmoils of the real world and lived every day like it was his last, miguel's now counting down his days--many of which has slipped from his mind entirely--until the day of his retirement, or his demise from all the workload he's been getting that seems endless. he wishes he could just have one day where he's not worrying about accounts or reports or having to face empty coffee cups by his table that aren't even his, or having a nosy co-worker look over at his monitor and chuckle about his work and point out his mistakes.

if only he could grab his keyboard and smash it against their heads without any repercussions, he'd do it in a heartbeat. and he'd do it again, and again, and again. he was tired and in need of solitude; though everyone else his age was doing the same thing without audible complaints and without much violent tendencies, he wanted an immediate exit from this hellish routine he was compelled to live out until he reaches his 60's.

he sighs as his virtual assistant, affectionately called lyla, greets miguel every morning--though he wishes he'd hear a voice other than hers the minute he awakes from his slumber, or lack of it. he mumbles back a good morning, not that the AI slept or anything. he makes himself coffee and reluctantly checks his phone for any updates at work. putting on his glasses and squinting, then pulling away from his phone as he adjusted his reading glasses, he deduced that it was the usual mail he received, with a lot of irritating nicknames from his boss. if he could punch him for every time he called him "mike", he'd've murdered him by now. but the man helps him pay his bills and put food on his table, he had to bear it. for a little longer.

miguel sighed as he put away his phone and readied the shower, thinking all the while if he should stop by a convenience store for breakfast or just make some toast. he had some time to kill, maybe he could make himself breakfast. as miguel stepped into the shower, he realized something was wrong. "mierda," he cursed as he grumbled and took off his reading glasses that he brought with him into the shower. all the kinds of things he does when he's out of it are phenomenally funny. yet miserable when you think about he's a man in his early 30's with a dead-end, nowhere job he finds no comfort or excitement in, barely has a social life, no friends that reach out to him for stuff other than high school reunions he has no interest in attending, and no one but a virtual assistant to greet him a good morning like she was coded to do.

miguel sighed as he finished his shower and turned the tap off and dried himself. as he wrapped the towel around his slim waist, he took a peek at the clock by his bedside table. how wonderful, he spent a long while in the shower lamenting his misfortunes, and now, he doesn't have the time to make himself breakfast anymore. could his day get any better?

miguel donned on his white button-up and realized he messed up the order of buttoning his shirt, the bottom most button without its counterpart buttonhole, and the buttonhole on the top most part of his clothing was without its counterpart button. he sighed as he undid his clothing, wishing his office would get rid of this pretentious dress code.

he finally did his buttons right and put on his blazer in an instant not caring to button it yet since he had to catch the commute by 7:00. he took his suitcase and was about to leave his apartment, when lyla appeared and reminded miguel about his dark red and blue striped tie that he left hanging on the backrest of his seat at the dining table. miguel groaned as he re-entered his home, lyla greeting him a welcome home, and him leaving before she could even finish her greeting.

miguel went down the stairs of the underground subway station and huffed as he caught his breath. he used to be so much more active when he was in his 20's, but that version of him has long since died when he signed his soul away to corporate slavery and his only form of exercise now is making his way from his home to the daily commute and back. he tapped his foot against the cement pavements and stood behind the bright yellow line; he hoped he'd make it on time before his boss, his annoying, stupid boss would chew him out for being a minute late again.

there were significantly more people boarding the trains that day, figures, it was a friday–everyone would be eager to go to work for a more rewarding weekend that'd be ahead of them all. however, for miguel o'hara, weekends only last for a minute; that's because he spends them all either finishing up work dumped on him by his extremely incompetent workmates or sleeping all day to make up for the 120 hours he spends in the earlier portion of his week working his ass off.

he barely got any sleep last night, staying up until 1 AM finishing up the organized reports he had to file and sending them to his head manager, that good for nothing, and stayed awake until 4:20 AM, listening to the ceaseless ticking of his bedside clock. insomnia's a thorn in his side, all the time. it also doesn't help that right now, as he's waiting for his daily commute, he felt the lack of sleep catch up with him as he felt his eyelids get heavier and heavier. he opened his mouth a little to yawn, feeling his eyes water as he did, signaling that sleepiness was upon him.

you know, maybe he could just shut his eyes a little and stand right where he is. yeah, he can do that; just giving hid eyes a rest as he–and he just missed his train.

wonderful, fantastic. now there wasn't anyone else on the platform waiting for the next train, it'd take too long. he sighed as he was about to leave, when he heard panting and the clacking of heels coming into the station. "shit!" he heard a voice cry out as the clacking got louder. he watched as you entered the station, exhausted and shaking in the knees. you must've ran a long distance to get here, for your forehead was beading with sweat, your chest rising and falling as you took in copious amounts of air, filling your tired lungs.

"did... did it..." you panted out, your speech broken as miguel approached you slowly, but didn't move any closer when you stood straighter, albeit in a strained and forced manner; pretending not to be panicky right now as your only train that'd get you to where you needed to be on time had just left seconds ago. miguel nodded with a slight frown on his face as he was predicting what follow up insults his buffoon of a boss would throw at him this time for being late, apart from a threat to cut dock him off his pay, or even worse, fire him on the spot–his sloppily done tie? his still tousled hair after probably three bottles of gel? his permanent scowl on his face, and the wrinkles that came with it?

he didn't want to think about it, it gave him headaches every time he thought of it, especially as it was becoming more and more of a reality as he stood there on the station platform with your spent figure from rushing in here, doing nothing. you sighed as you slumped on the mahogany bench nearby, sitting on spilled coffee someone so nicely left for you to sit on. "dammit!" you exclaimed in frustration as you got up, trying to get the stains off, but it merely spread over your clothes, making the mess more noticeable.

miguel wordlessly took off his unbuttoned blazer and offered it to your agitated figure. he looked at you with a nonchalant look on his face. "here, it'll hide the stain." he said as he peered at you, neither amused nor disappointed, just... utterly tired. you hesitated for a moment, but you took his blazer with a nod and a rushed, "thanks" as you wrapped the blazer around your waist and rubbed your face with your hands as you sighed yet again, even longer than the previous one.

"i'm getting fired after this, that's for sure." you murmured as you leaned your back against the wall and shut your eyes as you frowned. miguel, for some reason, joined you by the wall–leaning his own back against the wall and letting out a held in breath. "so am i." he confessed as you looked over at him. "well, guess that makes two of us." you muttered as you looked down at your shoes. "this might not matter to you anymore, but um..." you said as you looked back up at him, who now looked down at you; and as your gazes met, you pointed to his collarbone area. "the... the tie." you spoke as he peered down and noticed that his tie had come undone, what with it hastily being wrapped around his neck.

"well then, a lot of people might have seen it before you did, fuck." he said as he grabbed his tie and fumbled to tie it back on properly, grunting every now and then as his attempts to tie it all ended in failure. you couldn't take it anymore and told him to let you tie it for him. he couldn't resist, seeing as how you wouldn't take no for an answer after watching him fail time and time again.

"you have a... very pretentious looking tie." you remarked with a smirk as you did his tie, with him looking away from you out of embarrassment. a red hue appeared across his cheeks as you said that, and he pushed his glasses up further on his face. "it was a gift from my very competent head manager. they said red and blue were my colors, so they gifted me this. yeah." he rambled with a head scratch. you smiled at his rambling, and as he finished rambling, you finished tying his tie.

"that's better." you said as miguel looked down at his now tied up tie. he raised his eyebrows in an impressed manner. the creases on his tie that were the fruit of his earlier, miserable attempts were obscured. "wow, you... did it so much better than i ever could. thank you." he remarked with a small smile as he took off his glasses and tucked an arm of the glasses behind his button-up's front. he crossed his arms over his chest. "honestly, i'm not scared of getting fired. i'm thrilled about it, actually. i won't have to see those imbeciles at work, gawking over my reports and leaving their trash on my table. i'm just pissed they'll have the satisfaction of cutting me off and not me cutting them off." he said as he looked at your face and down at your waist where his blazer was embracing your curves.

"and... so am i." you said in a rather surprised voice as you said it–almost as if you yourself didn't realize you also hated your job, didn't like nor relate to your brainless co-workers who were suck ups to your equally shitty boss. miguel gazed over at you. "if you want to... wanna get some breakfast with me?" he asked in a gentle, almost as a whisper, tone. "it's okay if you don't want to, i just didn't get breakfast this morning–" "i'd love to." you said as you smiled up at him. "i'll tender my resignation letter all the while." you said as you looked at him with shining eyes. miguel smiled wider than before, hearing your words. he might've just made a new acquaintance... one with a brain and a heart, and has also had enough bullshit from horrible working conditions. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in getting to know you, though.

"um... what's your name?"

a/n: NANAMI KENTOIFIED OUR MIGGY O'HARA LET'S GOOOOOO

@thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck@binibinileonara

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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