Had she known he’d liked her musical animated cat video she would have been tickled pink; as it stood, she was left waiting around a wee bit once more—wondering what made his mind tick and only getting crumbs. She wasn’t really patient when she wanted something, but she refused to ruin the eventual fun—the fun that would be more satisfying given all her teasing and tugging. ‘Cause that’s what it was… like a slow stroke on her—.
Notification. Smile.
Rage exhaled smoke as she leaned back into the metal arched wall, still staying out of the light slipping in. As she inhaled and drew the fag away from her lips, next performing a French Inhale, she read his lines of text. Hmmmm… It was difficult to read between the lines without a voice, but Rage was fairly good at it most days. Most. But Fate chatter wasn’t just any chatter. Still, it made her snort and smirk as her eyes traveled to the left and she turned on her night vision in the tunnel briefly.
>You type before you think.
>Most people just speak before pulling an all-stop on their mouth.
>Typing takes effort.
>What does that say about you, Fate?
Indeed… what did it say? If he was dumping out thoughts before actually filtering them... It implied typing was akin to speaking for him; which, in its own way was fucking sexy as hell. She didn’t even care what that said about her; she was the nutcase fantasizing about just receiving a string of text from someone because how it felt coming off the line.
And then came more text. She turned off the notification filter and tweaked her settings so whenever he sent her something—at the very least text—it popped right up. She rolled her eyes, still smirking, wondering if she should go back to moving. It wasn’t a comfortable den—the dilapidated bullet train tunnel, but it was a private one for now.
>There are things in life, you know?
>Like eating shit.
>You don’t need to try it to know it’s a ropey idea.
She waited again, thinking perhaps she shouldn’t have slipped in the word ropey. It had been intentional, leaving him a few breadcrumbs. He’d either think she—he—was a fan of old Britishisms, or he might think ‘he’ was Brit ‘himself’. Not that she was… so much… meh. She’d decided she was and thus she was. For very legitimate reasons; legit for her, anyway.
Ha! She laughed out loud at his next string of text.
>Foot stuck in your keyboard?
>I’m a five star pervert.
>No judgement here.
>And time is time.
>Money is need; not want.
>Better things to buy in life with time an effort rather than creds.
Which was totally true for her. But he didn’t need to know all the details right away. She had more fun letting him assume things. She just wished she knew all of what he assumed. But that would require making herself significantly more vulnerable to him—like a two way door. And she wasn’t ready for that yet. Not because, you know, fear; more like, hijinks would end.
Screens popped up on her visuals, overlapping—five of them. At first they all screamed together—making her wince visibly. She resisted the urge to cover her ears; too human and wouldn’t do a damn bit of good.
“Alright,” she muttered aloud over the noise with a smile, “that’s no’ ‘alf bad.” Instead of shutting it all off she made it so a few vids paused. And then she watched them all in what she considered the proper order of text with them.
She opened her mouth to laugh, but stopped short; her face fell into dramatic worry.
“Shit… is ‘e gay?” In the closet? Was he flirting with her, thinking she was a guy? Bi was out; he’d already said he wasn’t into dick. Clearly, this playlist argued otherwise. Maybe he was playing a different game? Teasing her? She’d love the idea more if he knew she had tits and very wet pussy.
No! No! No! She refused to believe that the man’s overabundance of girl-porn was somehow his way of compensating for denial! She stomped her cigarette out in a fit of brief childish anger that didn’t amount to much but girlish pouting. She slumped against the wall—sighing once. And then she jerked, eyes widening as more text appeared—as if she’d forgotten he might send more.
A smiled bloomed across her face and she laughed—chuckled—gleefully as she read ‘actual present’ and ‘fucking hot’. Bloody hell, but what she wouldn’t have given to see his face when he opened the files with a response like that.
Couldn't be gay. Bi maybe. Not gay.
As her laughter died down and she reread the text several times like an overexcited schoolgirl, she considered her next course of action. He hadn’t reacted to the gay porn spam quite the way she imagined; it hadn’t been as bad as his bank-account hack job though. She bit her lip and considered what else… he had to be intrigued by now; at least as intrigued as she was.
It really would be the easiest thing to just hack right into all his hardware, talk to his devices like the pets they were, and do something drastic… but… it also placed some weak spots in her defenses.
And then it hit her, like a lightbulb going off. Bam!
Screens popped up—layers—in front of her eyes as she wrote the code. Words, numbers, symbols, threaded along her visual like a cascading waterfall. And when it was done, she sent the newly born little devil with a giggle just after her next line of text:
>Wish granted.
>Effort and time?
The virus would grab a hold of his system, this one a little more complicated that the first she’d sent. It would slip into files, go through back doors, only to escape somewhere else were he to chase it. The temporary damage it would do was simple enough: repeatedly change the language settings on his computer and keyboard output. Were he to type to anyone else but her, it would come out as gibberish—half in French, half in some alien language, parts of it in Latin—hell, Sanskrit. Cause why not?
But she wasn’t going to be a total bitch about her love bite; she had promised a reward in a roundabout way. Were he to kill the bug a gif image would come on his screen her of getting off with a toy—the final moments of lower lip biting, vibrating mess with a lovely angle of her legs spread and her back arching while the front balls of her feet pressed into a plush mattress that looked more like a cloud than a bed.
As she awaited his response she began walking again—deeper into the tunnel as she mapped it with old city blueprints on another screen. There had been a cave in, but she could probably get through. And thus she the night vision back on and whistled.
Notification. Smile.
Rage exhaled smoke as she leaned back into the metal arched wall, still staying out of the light slipping in. As she inhaled and drew the fag away from her lips, next performing a French Inhale, she read his lines of text. Hmmmm… It was difficult to read between the lines without a voice, but Rage was fairly good at it most days. Most. But Fate chatter wasn’t just any chatter. Still, it made her snort and smirk as her eyes traveled to the left and she turned on her night vision in the tunnel briefly.
>You type before you think.
>Most people just speak before pulling an all-stop on their mouth.
>Typing takes effort.
>What does that say about you, Fate?
Indeed… what did it say? If he was dumping out thoughts before actually filtering them... It implied typing was akin to speaking for him; which, in its own way was fucking sexy as hell. She didn’t even care what that said about her; she was the nutcase fantasizing about just receiving a string of text from someone because how it felt coming off the line.
And then came more text. She turned off the notification filter and tweaked her settings so whenever he sent her something—at the very least text—it popped right up. She rolled her eyes, still smirking, wondering if she should go back to moving. It wasn’t a comfortable den—the dilapidated bullet train tunnel, but it was a private one for now.
>There are things in life, you know?
>Like eating shit.
>You don’t need to try it to know it’s a ropey idea.
She waited again, thinking perhaps she shouldn’t have slipped in the word ropey. It had been intentional, leaving him a few breadcrumbs. He’d either think she—he—was a fan of old Britishisms, or he might think ‘he’ was Brit ‘himself’. Not that she was… so much… meh. She’d decided she was and thus she was. For very legitimate reasons; legit for her, anyway.
Ha! She laughed out loud at his next string of text.
>Foot stuck in your keyboard?
>I’m a five star pervert.
>No judgement here.
>And time is time.
>Money is need; not want.
>Better things to buy in life with time an effort rather than creds.
Which was totally true for her. But he didn’t need to know all the details right away. She had more fun letting him assume things. She just wished she knew all of what he assumed. But that would require making herself significantly more vulnerable to him—like a two way door. And she wasn’t ready for that yet. Not because, you know, fear; more like, hijinks would end.
Screens popped up on her visuals, overlapping—five of them. At first they all screamed together—making her wince visibly. She resisted the urge to cover her ears; too human and wouldn’t do a damn bit of good.
“Alright,” she muttered aloud over the noise with a smile, “that’s no’ ‘alf bad.” Instead of shutting it all off she made it so a few vids paused. And then she watched them all in what she considered the proper order of text with them.
She opened her mouth to laugh, but stopped short; her face fell into dramatic worry.
“Shit… is ‘e gay?” In the closet? Was he flirting with her, thinking she was a guy? Bi was out; he’d already said he wasn’t into dick. Clearly, this playlist argued otherwise. Maybe he was playing a different game? Teasing her? She’d love the idea more if he knew she had tits and very wet pussy.
No! No! No! She refused to believe that the man’s overabundance of girl-porn was somehow his way of compensating for denial! She stomped her cigarette out in a fit of brief childish anger that didn’t amount to much but girlish pouting. She slumped against the wall—sighing once. And then she jerked, eyes widening as more text appeared—as if she’d forgotten he might send more.
A smiled bloomed across her face and she laughed—chuckled—gleefully as she read ‘actual present’ and ‘fucking hot’. Bloody hell, but what she wouldn’t have given to see his face when he opened the files with a response like that.
Couldn't be gay. Bi maybe. Not gay.
As her laughter died down and she reread the text several times like an overexcited schoolgirl, she considered her next course of action. He hadn’t reacted to the gay porn spam quite the way she imagined; it hadn’t been as bad as his bank-account hack job though. She bit her lip and considered what else… he had to be intrigued by now; at least as intrigued as she was.
It really would be the easiest thing to just hack right into all his hardware, talk to his devices like the pets they were, and do something drastic… but… it also placed some weak spots in her defenses.
And then it hit her, like a lightbulb going off. Bam!
Screens popped up—layers—in front of her eyes as she wrote the code. Words, numbers, symbols, threaded along her visual like a cascading waterfall. And when it was done, she sent the newly born little devil with a giggle just after her next line of text:
>Wish granted.
>Effort and time?
The virus would grab a hold of his system, this one a little more complicated that the first she’d sent. It would slip into files, go through back doors, only to escape somewhere else were he to chase it. The temporary damage it would do was simple enough: repeatedly change the language settings on his computer and keyboard output. Were he to type to anyone else but her, it would come out as gibberish—half in French, half in some alien language, parts of it in Latin—hell, Sanskrit. Cause why not?
But she wasn’t going to be a total bitch about her love bite; she had promised a reward in a roundabout way. Were he to kill the bug a gif image would come on his screen her of getting off with a toy—the final moments of lower lip biting, vibrating mess with a lovely angle of her legs spread and her back arching while the front balls of her feet pressed into a plush mattress that looked more like a cloud than a bed.
As she awaited his response she began walking again—deeper into the tunnel as she mapped it with old city blueprints on another screen. There had been a cave in, but she could probably get through. And thus she the night vision back on and whistled.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
The following 1 user Likes Blade's post: Tindome
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