I got flashes of blonde women, practically mirror images of each other, twining around him, but was distracted by the familiar sensation of being boarded. Aisha let out a low, impressed whistle as she, Brian and Bitch hauled in our trunks and provisions.

"Hot damn," she said. "Hey Lambda-154, get in here, you gotta check out the new digs!"

"You know," our navigator said thoughtfully as she got Dinah situated, "since we're going off the grid, we don't need to use PRT designations any more."

"You want to go back to Sarah then?" Brian asked.

"I hated being Sarah," she said, a cold look flitting through her eyes. "You can call me..." She thought for a moment. "Call me 'Lisa'."

"Well, being Jean-Paul blew chunks," Aleph cut in, nuzzling against my collarbone. "So I'm going with Alec."

I was fine with going back to Taylor, so I stayed quiet. The warehouse roof slid open with an agonizing creak that killed any more conversation, and all too soon there was nothing but the night air between us and freedom. Aleph — Alec now — and I took the opportunity to connect with our crew. Lisa was first, plugging in with a flurry of calculations and data that was never anything short of dazzling. Next came Bitch, and spikes and protective armored plates sprouted over the ship, leaving only a thin strip open for the control deck. Last were Grue and Imp, kept on a shallow connection just in case we needed to go into stealth mode.

We were ready.

Destination? We asked out to Lisa.

She sent back to coordinates and flight-plan to a large asteroid a couple systems over called 'Somer's Rock'.

Agreement, was our verdict, after a split second of cross-crew collaboration.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," said Alec.

So we did.

* * *

The inspiration for this is one part Outlaw Star, one part Tenchi Muyo, a dash of canon, and a pinch of Simoun, shaken up with a nice dollop of the ridiculous, gorgeous space opera aesthetic still stuck in my head from watching Jupiter Ascending. And garnished with porn, because this site is a cancer against morality and self-restraint. This is either 1/? or a standalone oneshot. Probably the latter, given that somehow sprawled out into more or less 8,000 words

Sensible Ears

(Автор: Sol Mark-1)

Unknown location, Brockton Bay.

Taylor Hebert was having a good day, if she ignored all of her creepy fans, and that man that was always pestering her, Sabah told her experience with her stalker, Taylor suspected that it was the same man, she managed to scare off the other but he always tries to "find" her by accident, she could just kill him, but she already promised Amy, and Victoria that she would not kill more people, she was really happy with the friendships (some with benefits.) she had.

If somebody told her she would be the target of lust from a lot people, she would have laughed, she must thank Luna for her Exaltation, and rescuing her from....that, the only bad thing was that she have white rabbits ears, but the good thing is that everyone else could not see the ears, maybe her Exaltation gave her a stranger effect.

Then her ears twitched, when she heard some footsteps nearing to her, she knew who walked with that rythm, Taylor smiled, and some hands covered her eyes.

"Guess who?, Taylor." the voice spoke in a playfull tone.

"Mmm... by the softness of your hands, and your voice, mmm... Sabah?"

"I knew you would get at the first try, Taylor." Sabah said with a smile on her face, then Sabah got an idea, and gently she began to touch Taylor ears.

"Sabah what are you doi — aah, Sabah sto — -aah"

"Taylor, I know you love this."

"Ok you convinced me, lets go to a more private place, Sabah"

Taylor and Sabah went to a more private place, but what they did not noticed, is that Aisha was hiden, and was taking notes about Taylor specially the ears.

Worm AU/Exalted Crossover.

On A Lonely String

(Автор: NaughtyBanette)

My Sasori-tinker idea

* * *

If you knew you were psychopath, what would you do?

Realistically, I'm sure a lot of people would seek help. Turn themselves in to the authorities, for the safety of those around them. The problem is, I don't care about those around me. I am, at my core, a selfish individual, and I enjoy my life and freedom too much to submit myself to the law, or the whims of a therapist.

When I was younger, when I was just beginning to hear the term tossed about in whispers among my family and their friends, I made a different decision. Wondering what the words meant, I researched the condition. What I found, disturbingly, fit me almost perfectly.

Antisocial behavior, diminished empathy, a lack of remorse. All of these, I felt, and continue to feel, are good qualities. There are times I feel I see the world with more clarity than those around me, for exactly those reasons. But I was an admittedly bright child and knew immediately that such words carried a stigma I'd never be rid of, should my own little monstrous nature come to light.

So instead I researched all I could in order to construct a mask. A web of lies to hide my true nature, to blend among the normal children and succeed at life. I learned when to smile, when to laugh, and when to cry. I went along with activities I didn't quite understand. Sleepovers, sporting events, trips to the mall where no one purchased anything meaningful. I was merely a puppet, dancing for the entertainment and comfort of others.

I learned to clamp down on my own desires. When I was eight I found a dog, dead at the side of the road. It was fascinating, in a morbid sort of way. The desire to experiment with it, to inspect the creature, to learn more about it, was strong. Almost strong enough to make me forget myself, to find a stick to prod it with. I pushed those thoughts aside, and opted instead to study anatomy in my spare time.

When I was picked on at school, a perfectly average amount of teasing by most standards, I resisted the urge to fight back. I could, it would be appropriate for a boy to respond with violence, but I doubted my ability to keep it to 'angry child' levels. I feared my revenge would be cruel and calculated, too cold for a normal child to perpetrate.

In the end I wound up with a whole persona that fit me so well it was sometimes hard for myself to know where it ended and I began. The simplest lies, after all, were partly true, so even public 'me' was a dry, sarcastic, antisocial person. Boring enough for people to pass me by, yet not so obviously boring as to draw attention. A veritable castle of little lies, all centered around a single foundation.

Madison Clemens.

We first met when I moved into Brockton Bay at the age of five. She was my next door neighbor, and so excited to have another child her age to play with that I had absolutely no say in becoming her best friend.

My earliest memories of her involve bandaids on her knees, and lopsided pigtails. She was a boundless font of energy, always in motion on some larger than life adventure. The way she spoke, the way she acted, a simple trip to the corner store was an epic quest, requiring both a stern will and unfailing determination. Her head was so often up in the clouds that I often wondered how much of reality passed beneath her, unnoticed entirely.

She was never cruel, at least back then, but often careless. Her words had meanings that took me years to decode, often meaning completely different things than what a regular person would gather. She could say the nicest things with such cruelty, or brighten a stranger's day with an insult, and leave the conversation oblivious to the outcome.

In the end, she became my foundation. The keystone lie that held up all of the others.

I care about Madison Clemens.

That lie I've told myself so often that I often believe it to be true. She matters to me, because she matters to me, a circular argument that has no end or beginning. It's the one lie that I am confident could beat the best lie detectors in the world, and the thing that keeps me grounded.

Her friendship is important to me on a level that I doubt anyone else would ever understand. Not having her in my life, filling that role of 'best friend' terrifies me to the very core. In a sense, she has become my morality chain. Whenever I come across an option in daily life that I've never considered a plan for, I simply recall rule #1. I must not damage my friendship with Madison.

It is, for this reason, that I peering out of my front door at 9pm on a Wednesday. "You want to do what?" I mumble, staring into the eyes of my best friend. She gives a huff, stomping he foot again and crossing her arms. She's 'explained' herself a few times now, not that it makes any sense to me, but I'm hoping that forcing her to repeat herself makes her explanation make sense eventually.

"Hello~! Are you in there Sam?" She laughs, leaning forwards. "You." She points. "Me. Movie." She explains slowly. "Everyone else is busy. I've got your ticket already, so you've got to go."

"Which movie?" I narrow my eyes, finally relenting a little. If everyone else really doesn't want to go—

"Saw." She grins widely. "That new horror movie. I hear it's supposed to be wicked scary."

I make a face at that. "Saw isn't a horror movie. It's a bunch of hacks trying to use senseless gore to get a rise out of people. There's nothing scary about that." Save, perhaps, that there are documented cases of monsters out there that pull crap like that for fun.

She makes that noise I'm oh so familiar with, when I've said or done something wrong but rather than pointing out what she decides instead to 'correct' me physically. Stepping forwards, she reaches over my shoulder to grab the hood of my sweatshirt, pulling it up and over my messy red hair. Without a single backwards look, she turns and steps forwards, dragging me along behind her. "Come on, if it's really that bad you can spend the entire time making dumb jokes about it."

She knows me too well. "You know, this right here? I'm fairly certain this qualifies as an abusive relationship."

"I know." She shrugs, letting go once we hit the end of the driveway. "You're lucky I like you enough to put up with it."

* * *

"I'm glad it's just us for once." Madison mentions as we enter a convenience store near the theater. I am too, but probably for different reasons. Myself included, she has rather poor taste in friends.

Emma is useful, at least. Her looks, her money and her reputation are all a tremendous boon in navigating the social mire that is Winslow high. Her personality leaves a lot to be desired, but she is a teenage girl. Lately she's been on some kind of power trip, firmly establishing herself as 'queen bitch'. It's a pain, and if not for my friend's help I'd probably be on the outs for missing the occasional social cue.

Sophia... Well, we have an unspoken truce, at best. I think we could both tell on sight that something was off about the other. Two puppets recognizing the strings and masks of the other, opting not to say anything to keep the production going. She is a bit of a disappointment though, rather than my own carefully crafted disguise, she seems to embrace her own insanity, reveling in the pain and violence she causes.

There's times I envy her. Times where I sorely wish I could inflict that kind of violence on the inconveniences in my life. I've slipped occasionally, done reckless things in as careful and meticulous ways as possible.

Madison had a boyfriend once, a few months ago. She'd told me how he pressured her for sex, when she wasn't sure she was ready. How he hit her when she had said no. I'd played my role as her best friend, comforting her with partially rehearsed words. I did not like the idea of anyone hurting my friend, but what had happened next was what bothered me.

Her boyfriend, and I don't even remember his name now amusingly enough, had grown jealous of our alleged relationship. He'd demanded she stop seeing me, and struck her again when she refused.

Say what you will about the scum that walk the halls of Winslow, you get what you pay for from them. Five hundred dollars to a trio of 'student's and the boy spent a month in the hospital. I was actually disappointed at that. I'd deliberately chosen those thugs on the hopes that they'd go overboard.

Regardless, Madison was happily away from that relationship, and we remained close friends. "It is nice, just hanging out again." I reply after a lull, noting how she continues to grip my hand, pulling me over to the snack aisle. Sneaking candy and soda into the theater is one of our traditions, one of the few outright 'bad' things Madison does on a regular basis.

"'Hanging out', huh?" She turns, giving me a knowing smile. What, exactly, she 'knows' is lost to me. "I was thinking... If everything goes well tonight, maybe we could-"

Her words are lost to me as a dull roar fills the street outside. The store, busy but not crowded, turns as one to look at the floodlights pouring in from the windows. Some kind of metal monstrosity of a vehicle, like a tank mixed with a train mixed with a school bus, pulls up out front of the store.

"Madison, get on the-" There's a muffled boom as the abomination fires its main gun through the window. I've only a moment to watch in dull shock as the shell detonates.

* * *

I pull myself to my hands and knees, vomiting uncontrollably at the sight of my former friend. Why? I shouldn't care. I should be immune to the gore and the blood. I've seen pictures before without flinching, walked through emergency rooms with only casual interest. Why am I freaking out like this?

Why, am I wasting time?

I can save her. I know how. I don't know how I know, but I can and I know it. Laying here, pretending to be human serves no one. I tear my eyes away from the pulped arm and burned flesh. I blink and shudder at the bits of metal piercing her torso and neck. She's dead, on every level but the technical, and that won't last to a hospital. Even if Panacea were magically next door, she'd likely die.

I need to stabilize her, protect her brain and heart. Those are the only two organs that matter, the brain and the heart. There's a fire inside of me, a warmth I've never felt before, powers maybe? Am I a cape now? Is that where this information is coming from?

Anything is better than losing Madison. I don't know how to pretend to grieve. I don't want to start over. Everything hinges on her, I cannot lose her.

I step over her, nearly stumbling over another body. A quick glance shows me the girl will be fine, just a few burns and a concussion. I wish she'd stop sobbing and get out of the way, she's wasting my time.