#liquid lightshow

[passingthetime]

"I want to start this new hobby, but I can't afford to buy the semi-expensive stuff I need for it" dude, you just spent months constantly partying, spending more than the price of that thing in just a day or two. "Oh."

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Platonic Stobin Mind-Reading AU Part 1

Steve doesn’t notice anything is wrong at first beyond the obvious. His ears are ringing, his eye’s so swollen it feels like it’s going to pop from its socket, and his lungs don’t seem to expand fully before the pain in his ribs makes them shrivel back into themselves. 

The injection site pulses, like the viscous blue liquid is still squirming its way into his brain, writhing around its synapses to force his tongue to wrap around words that only hold the truth. It doesn’t make sense. But neither do demogorgons or demodogs or the way thoughts have been leaking out of his ears since Hargrove bashed his skull in with a kitchen plate.

He doesn’t feel truthful. If he was truthful, he’d be telling Robin about the blood slowly pooling into his sock, or how he’s pretty sure she’s the best thing that’s happened to him since Dustin Henderson showed up uninvited at his house and derailed his life. Instead, he listens to Robin come up with more and more outlandish ways that this drug will kill them. It’ll erode their brains until there’s nothing left. Their organs will explode. They’ll have to keep talking until they slowly dehydrate and die. Steve hums along, thoughts trailing along too slow to keep up with her. 

The mystery drug isn’t helping. He’s got that same giddy feeling he remembers from Friday night blunt rotations in crowded backyards, surrounded by his usual brigade of assholes. The likelihood of overdose or dismemberment ia much higher than they usually are when he feels the way, but hey, the company is better.

The overhead lights are trailing along in his vision, his cheekbone is throbbing with every invigorating heartbeat, and Robin’s head is shaking with laughter where it’s resting firmly against his own. 

Then they’re being interrogated and even as Steve talks, a little voice in the back of his head is screaming at him to shut up. He doesn’t, can’t think past the drugs and his exploding eye, and the way he’s pretty sure if Robin moves her head away from his own he’ll explode.

Then noises and screaming and Dustin fucking Henderson.

They’re running.

They’re in the back of a cart.

They’re in an elevator.

Steve experiences each in little snapshots of coherency between laughing with Robin, and holding Robin’s hand, and–he can’t seem to think past Robin. It’s like Nancy all over again but more. Concentrated. The way he can only seem to think right now when it’s in tandem with her. 

Then movies and popcorn.

Then water and a lightshow.

Then the bathroom. His thoughts are coming faster now, almost completely formed before they flit out his ears. And Robin is there. He still can’t think past her, and this is what love is like, isn’t it? The way he feels right when he’s sitting next to her. 

But even as he’s confessing he can feel a little worm squirming through his stomach, uneasy with his words as they settle between them. And as Robin drops her secret between them like a gauntlet, Steve feels the squirming feeling ramp up into gut-churning fear. He doesn’t know why he’s afraid, or how he can almost feel himself glaring at the back of his own head in Mrs. Click’s class sophomore year, or the way he can perfectly remember how Tammy Thompson’s hair curled in the diluted sunlight of the classroom when before this moment he didn’t even remember her name. 

It doesn’t matter, when He’s got Robin across from him, curling in on herself more with every second he doesn’t react.

The feeling ebbs into something softer as they make fun of a singing voice he can only barely remember. Something slides into place in the moment, like the weight of her skull on the back of his head while they’re tied back to back. Like the wisps of her hair tickling the side of his face. Like legs pressed together in a bathroom stall.

Then, Dustin fucking Henderson, and everything goes a little too fast after that. They survive by the barest threads of their little sailor suits. Billy dies. Hopper dies. 

Steve goes home.

Part 2

[strangefaninastrangeland]

Brewing without Brooding – Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 – Prompt: Potion

A/N: A little story for the first day of Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 @a-strange-server :). Beta by the wonderful @hayanwulf

“…The end of the growing season and the gathering of crops are significant events also for mystical reasons,” Wong’s voice was strong and calm, despite the pace he was setting. Thankfully, Stephen’s long legs were well-suited to keeping up. As were his strong lungs.

“Yes, yes. I already know that. This period has historically been associated with the thinning of the veil between the living and the dead. I still don’t see how…” Stephen trailed off as he came to a stop. He assessed the opening in the dark forest before them for ectoplasmic residue. His hands trailed a soft light as he moved them in a pattern he had only learned a week ago. It had become extremely well-practiced by now.

Wong stood silently beside him. His eyes glowed with Sanshur’s Vision. The creaking of dry branches and the undulating shadows falling on them made the whole scenery uninviting, especially as no perceptible wind was responsible.

Suddenly, Wong exploded into motion as several specters swooped down on them from the barren treetops. Stephen skipped over the fallen tree trunk before him and ran to the middle of the opening. He pulled the vial out of the protective inner pocket of his belt and set up the Ghost Trap (not a very inventive name; he would have to come up with something better later), pouring out the astringent liquid in a near-perfect circle around himself, while Wong provided an impressive—and deadly, at least for some dry trees—lightshow, snapping at the specters with his Eldritch Whip like a whirlwind.

“Ready!” cried out Stephen, and he opened up the conduits for dimensional energy on his body. The specters let off their attacks on Wong and converged on Stephen, their grayish ethereal shreds billowing wildly in the non-existent wind of their flight. In a matter of moments, Wong appeared beside him, pushing his own energy into the activated Trap as well.

The otherworldly apparitions, getting caught in the potion’s compelling field, let out shrieks and howls that grated on Stephen’s ears and mind. Not the kind of music he was fond of. He had gotten to hear it a bit too often lately for his tastes. He stepped out of the circle, dropping the half-full vial in the middle.

“Because you don’t want to see?” picked up Wong from where they left their conversation effortlessly. “The end of the harvest season is a natural time for communities to come together. Not only to celebrate the bounty of the earth but also to remember and honor ancestors who played a part in past harvests. There you have it. Mystic significance.”

The Trap sucked in the last errant wisp of the specters. Another job well done.

“Wong, you won’t convince me that an intercultural cooking course in Kamar-Taj is a mystic event no Master can miss.”

~~~

Wong didn’t really need to convince Stephen. He could very easily threaten him, which, as a master of the threatening arts, he only alluded to. Not that Stephen was that unwilling to go. He liked Kamar-Taj festivals, and the community events were always a hoot. But this time, he was expected to contribute—with a demonstration. In a cooking course. He far preferred silent observation and preserving the hard-earned respect of the others.

“Can I take the Ghost Trap? It’s a very useful potion. I could rename it Halloween Punch. Merge cultural significance and a witty pun.”

“That’s neither witty nor a pun, Stephen.” Wong’s unapologetic deadpan was a joy.

“It is! You can punch a ghost with it! Or as good as punch,” defended Stephen. Then he carefully poured Wong another cup of tea, his hands barely shaking despite the workout he had put them through today. All in all, a good day. Wong acknowledged the gesture with a slight bow of his head.

“It is also not for consumption. You could invent a new beverage with a Halloween theme if you have to, but it must be palatable. And not toxic.”

“Why must I be one of the ones on stage again?” On the stage, demonstrating. Cooking.

“You are the highest-ranking American invitee.”

“That reeks like something you just came up with.”

“Sad for you that I can come up with whatever rule I like.” Wong, decidedly not sad, lifted his cup to his mouth. After a short contemplation of the tea’s aroma, he continued, “Every Sanctum will prepare a demonstration. Don’t play the reluctant, Stephen. You can be the center of attention, your favorite place to be.”

“Slander,” snorted Stephen. “I prefer to keep a low profile in Kamar-Taj. Too many touchy sorcerers and prank-happy novices.”

“That’s news to me. Your profile is sharp and pointy. Will you comply?” Wong put the cup down, leaned forward, and looked at Stephen as if his answer held deep importance.

“I’ll be there,” said Stephen, aiming for an ominous tone, then ruining it with a smile. He hid it behind his own cup. He imagined Wong maintaining his stoic facade should Stephen go ahead and present the Ghost Trap (with a nifty new name), just because he could.

~~~

“…and Master Strange from the New York Sanctum will be showing us…”

“The Halloween Punch!” Stephen’s satisfied smile grew wider at Wong’s warning “Stephen!” from the background.

“A variation of the so-called Witch’s Brew, a cocktail commonly served at Halloween parties in wide areas of the United States and beyond. Not to be confused with the Specter Snaring Potion, formerly known as Ghost Trap, an ingenious new tool in the arsenal of a responsible Master of the Mystic Arts. Invention of yours truly.” The muted colors of the decorations flared up and wobbled slightly. He blinked, but the reds and yellows still stood out from the greens and blues. He was also growing giddier by the minute.

Disregarding the groans of some of the less appreciative members of his audience, Stephen opened his arms theatrically and swept his gaze over the small crowd. They were colorfully dressed, diverse, and enthusiastic to varying extents. Some were fidgeting or whispering to each other in soft tones (mostly the newer residents of Kamar-Taj), while others exuded calmness and quiet dignity (Adepts and Masters). He felt another inexplicable surge of confidence and made a small step to widen his stance to keep from stumbling.

“Behold!” His voice resonated nicely in the small courtyard in one of the hidden corners of Kamar-Taj. There was no stage, just everyone standing in a semicircle around the table laden with ingredients for the demonstrations. But no stage was needed. He swung his arms inwards, his fingers folded into the hand sign for the activation of his spell. He didn’t plan to be this loud about his presentation previously. He distinctly remembered being nervous and wanting to keep it short and simple. But that had been before and now was now. The Punch deserved a punch-up.

“The traditional recipe, passed down from generation to generation in many families, includes fruit juice, optional alcohol, and for a magical touch, something extra like a vibrant jello mixed with carbonated soda. The Strange version, however, is nonalcoholic, made with ginger ale, pineapple juice, and lime sherbet floating on top!”

The ingredients glided in graceful arcs during their introduction, then deftly mixed themselves into the small cauldron in the middle of the table. To the left of the table, a more impressive version of the cauldron stood, containing a larger amount of the drink Stephen had prepared for the occasion. He may or may not have sampled his own concoction beforehand, perfecting the ratios even in the last minutes. He felt a pleasurable buzz just remembering.

Stephen’s eye caught on Wong. He was standing beside the big cauldron, his face in his hands. He looked sad. But there was no call for desperation!

“Let’s taste it!” Stephen made some quick, precise gestures, and several round bottles filled themselves and wafted over to the crowd. Some uncertain cheering was heard. Wong jolted from his place, hand lifted in a warding gesture, but several sorcerers had already taken a fine big gulp of the Halloween Punch, and the crowd grew lively. Eyes widened in surprise. People jostled each other to snag more punch. More enthusiastic cheering filled the air.

“Thank you! Now, lift your hands in the air for Master Astram from the London Sanctum!” Amid the shouts and whistling erupting from the majority of the audience, with no mind to the confused mutterings and stares from a (punchless) minority, Stephen strutted away in a slightly curving line. He offered a cheeky wink to Master Astram along with some reassuring words: “I have warmed them up nicely for you!”

He felt positively punchy.

~~~

Stephen was on his back. For added stability, he lay spread-eagled on the cool floor of his bedroom in the Sanctum. The Cloak, blessed relic that they were, carefully exchanged the wet cloth above his eyes. They gave Stephen’s hair a soothing ruffle, which elicited a groan from the suffering sorcerer.

“Stephen?”

“Stop shouting, Wong, for all that is sacred and holy,” whispered Stephen.

“No success with the detoxifying potion yet? The others are more or less fine.” Wong’s softer voice was still too loud.

“The others sampled far less of the contaminated punch,” breathed Stephen, desperate to keep his brains from spilling out of his nose.

“I have the apprentices who thought it would be funny to sprinkle the moon powder into your cauldron scrubbing the toilets of the infirmary. You can have them afterwards for Sanctum duty.”

“I don’t care.”

“They are appropriately cowed. Master Hamir is very scary with a magical hangover.”

“Hah. I still don’t care.”

“Come on, Stephen, it was a great show, and you received incredible reactions to your three-ingredients-punch. You’ll have fans!” Wong didn’t bother to conceal his mirth, which only went to show how he was a cruel man who liked to kick someone when they were already down.

“I’ll never, and I repeat, never again accept any invitation of yours. Ever.”

“You don’t mean that, Stephen.” Wong chuckled (he chuckled! When Stephen wasn’t joking!) and stepped up to him. A cool sensation flowed over Stephen's body, a balm for his screaming nerves, spreading from head to toe.

“You’ll teach me this spell as a recompense.”

“I will.”

“And I get meals delivered from Kamar-Taj’s kitchen for a week. Untampered with meals.”

“You will.”

“And I get to borrow some of the rune working studies from your private collection.”

“Stop right there. Quit while you are still ahead.”

Stephen slowly removed the cloth from his eyes and squinted up at Wong. Wong was crouching beside him, looking resolute. Quitting while ahead sounded reasonable.

"I guess I’ll have to roll with the punches," Stephen muttered. Wong threw his head back and laughed.

The End.

A/N: Don’t let your drink out of your sight, friends, and keep an eye out for your friends' drink as well!

[wizardly-shrubbery]

Aer steady hands plucked the slender orange petal from its container and dropped it into the beaker. It stirred, counting each turn of the stir-stick as it watched the lily dissolve, the softly bubbling pale blue fluid turning a seafoam green. Once this one was finished it would mark aer 14th attempt at this potion. Verdant was so close to getting it right this time. Ae could feel it. 

It rose from its seat– careful to avoid the butterflies that found themselves underfoot– to grab an empty bottle for the potion, and a bite to eat for aer trusty lab assistant. It poured the brew into the bottle, not a drop getting spilled and not a crumb going to waste as the salamander chowed down on the corner of a biscuit.

Ae reached over for the cork, aer sleeve catching on the edge of the bottle, and the bottle tips over. Boiling hot contents spill out onto the wooden work desk and it lets out a yelp, some of the hot liquid spilling on its hand as it lunges to pick up the salamander.

All at once, a cacophony of bird screeches rise up in response to its surprise, and it groans. It could try and shush them, but that would do nothing and it knew it. More of the potion spills out before ae can tilt the bottle back upright, dripping down off the edge of the table and landing on aer shoes and dripping on aer hand.

The spooked creature grows hotter even as it tucks itself closer to aer chest, starting to burn aer skin and singe aer clothes. It shushes softly to the lizard, keeping a calm composure even as it's rushing away to the washbasin to relieve its burning hands. It sets the salamander on the countertop, watching it scramble away into the back of the greenhouse. No matter, it’ll come back around for dinner. 

The cool water soothes its stinging hands. Thankfully, a mild chemical burn looks to be the only consequence of the potion– Verdant hasn’t had ill effects from its previous attempts, so there should be no reason to worry now. 

Once the squawking dies down, a flurry of stray feathers scattered around the greenhouse being the only evidence of the previous avian storm. The desk, however, is much worse for wear. It’s lost under a thick blanket of newly-grown moss, flowers, and vines, thickest where the potion seeped into the wood and the dirt below it.

With a sigh, ae slips on aer gardening gloves and gets to work ripping up the new, strong growth. It did need new compost, so it supposed this would be somewhat beneficial, even if its hands stung more, and grew uncomfortably stiff– it assumed from overworking them, it had been gardening all day after all. 

By the time ae decided to call it quits for the day, the chlorophyll-stained wood of the desk was just barely visible under the pile of weeds. Ae pulls the gloves off aer hands, and gently massages the coarse, hard palm of aer hand. 

Aer heart plummets, and ae looks down at the horrible scene that was unfolding.

[mild body horror warning]

Its hand, while still somewhat mobile, was starting to become stiff at the joints, crackling like dried leaves as it clenched and unclenched its fist. The once brightly-painted nails were gone, fusing into the rest of the darkening, rough, bark-like skin with only small highlights of purple remaining. 

Ae didn’t have the time to think before ae broke into a sprint toward aer house, and up to the library. There wouldn’t be anything to stop this, and ae knew that. Ae knew that experimenting with anything was risky, especially when no antidote existed to what you were making. By the time ae got to the library, aer chest ached, aer fingers grew longer, the barky transformation spreading nearing aer elbow. 

Transformation section, first book within reach of their burnt hand. 

Awakening spells, transmutation, growth, disguises and glamor, illusions and lightshows, the pile of discarded books grew around aer. 

The transformation is past aer shoulder, making aer chest hurt more, and making it hard to lift aer rooting arm. Ae couldn’t feel aer fingers. Ae couldn’t seem to make them move at all. 

Even if it found the perfect spell to stop this, it had no chance to get the components in time. Not with an immobile arm with roots dangling like vines, trying to dig into the floorboards with a mind of their own. Not with its chest tightening, its torso stiffening and starting to be immobilized. It breathed as best it could, each inhale getting shallower as deep breaths make sharper pains. Slumping to the floor with its back to the shelves, it all but gave up. 

Verdant was going to die like this. 

Ae found it fitting for an experimenter to die by their own hand. It almost seemed funny for a botanist, though. Ae looked down at what used to be aer arm, the fingers branching up and out and spreading like woody vines. Ae watches as young leaves sprout and unfurl, as aer shoe starts to warp and finally tear as more woody vines sprout. 

I won’t really die, it muses, trying its best not to uselessly panic. I’ll be alive, just different. Just as some strange plant. Just…

Aer eyes flit over to the first book full of spells ae has performed many times in aer own greenhouse. If ae’s only options were the unknown and almost certain death, then the unknown seemed like a much better option. Ae reaches out with a weak arm, and flips through the well-read pages one last time.

… 

It awakens.

It’s an odd sensation, to breathe without inhaling, to see without looking, to speak without mouthing the words, but it does. It can feel everything from the cracked floorboards, to the crumpled pages, to the shattered glass. 

It knows that this is odd, that what is happening to it is different than anything it has done before, but it doesn’t remember what it felt before. It sees into the cracked mirror, at the tangle of leaves and twigs. It knows it had skin before, and bright blue eyes, and purple hair. It doesn’t remember its face, or its clothes, or its voice or body or name. All it knows is a ghost of a person, with nothing to pin it to. 

It’s confused, but something inside it is relieved to be alive. It doesn’t remember why. 

[jackywaelle]

Live Audio Recording of the Performance A Mind Full of Color

Liquid lightshow and color reactive audio, 6', 2022

~Max MSP~Color Tracker~Loops~Field Recordings~

[signedandsealed]

A Fashioned Idol (Astarte)

Or

Taken After Song of Songs:

~<>~<>~<>~

Your rosy breath is better than the fragrant sawdust of fresh-cut lumber,

And you suspire in beautiful heaves, drawing oxygen like a dipping ladle.

To watch —captivated— the swells of your filling lungs, outlined behind your ribcage is to experience unsaid pleasure.

Your creamy dulcet voice is sweeter sounding than the larynxes of tiny warbling songbirds.

Your pink, parted lips are as tender as rose flesh, and your open mouth is a magnetized epicenter.

You tease the eyes in a risque decolletage with protruberances exposed like dainty rosebuds in Spring showers.

Upon your breasts are marvellously eroticized ores of Turquin blue veins.

Your eyes are like liquid solitaires, beautiful watery pools vibrating on the minutest level, almost imperceptibly so. Of what thought, or feminine deception is the beautiful phenomenon?

Your lashes are long and zibeline, as silken as the sable's coat, w/ shimmered ripples coursing over the breadth, caught verily at lighted angles,

Or like Spanish fans of jet-black lace which fall over your eyes as slow as dripping honeycomb.

Your scent, better than freshly laundered linen is like heady, diffusive jasmine climbing trellises; jasmine carried on the same night breeze that rustles the lace curtained window like ghostly flutters.

Your fiery flesh and diffusive pores satiate the soul like rain on hot slate. The first sizzling drop is the smell of petrichor, the chalky, baking stone and dry earth finally relieved.

Your crystalline oasis waters slake and hydrate like bursting juices between the teeth.

You revitalize the ashen Earth like discoveries of date-laden palmeraie amidst the barren erg dunes.

I would swish —through-and-through— my mouth your stripped wine of raw, bare naked fire, a thimble of which rises to the head like white heat.

In my rorulent fantasies I suckle the sweet ambrosia of your sapling lesions and taste your whipped cake batter in veritable delirium.

Your lips are wine-stained and your eyes belie monstrous tokens of milky angelism.

Your snowy white flesh gleams in pale Parian splendor, and your skinny Callipygian buttocks excites like lines of foreign exoticism.

Your frame, so elegantly gaunt, is sexualized in trembling frailty. All the bony protrusions beneath her flesh are artistic flourishes.

Your hands and feet, beautifully slender, and vivaciously wet-glossed in tones of cerise ornament you like glowing highlights.

You are a nodding bell-flower, somnambulent in belated rains.

Your soul appears to my mind's eye in magnificent, efflorescent bursts... beautiful flowering lightshows of spinning, dazzling color.

During love, you heave like a Manila galleon on torrential swells, where bodies of water are simply orchestrated diversions to capture at large.

Sultry and heady, she rises like an uncorked elixir of darkest lust on the humid particles of evening air.

Behind her dark, almond eyes of poured Amaretto were the haunted secrecies of the bedchamber, and ghostly onanism led to 'la petite mort' and mysterious phantom punctures in the side.

To find her, you had to pay the groundskeeper entry toll to the tombs and pass the overprotective poltergeists in her graces. She would invariably be seated in a lightshaft from the surface, straightening the ring of her middle finger and gazing chatoyantly until you roused her from possession.

Her mind is placated by beautiful rituals, like pleasure-strolls along the riverbank, watching the candlelight vigils of sailboat magnolia blossoms aglow a la Indica w/ the flammules of teacup candles drifting on the reflective black water.

However, her heart is only satisfied when yours capsizes in sanguinary immersion, relishing longful pangs of yearning... and even this only granted the gushings are palpable.

You are a dozen roses w/ baby's breath, wrapped and tied in cellophane, hewn from the hortullan labyrinth w/ razor shears.

You are inundated like the cut rose w/ still-flowing milksap, the arterial lifeblood which has raised you to culmination.

You are a vessel for dissolution to the cosmos with your shift raised, lying prone like silky almondine swirls.

She is milk warmed, sweetened w/ stirred honey and left to cool again.

[alastors-radioshow]

Dark clouds gathering overhead. Soft rumbles rolling across the sky, the faint flashing of light bouncing from cloud to cloud. Warming up fora lightshow beyond compare.

It wouldn't be long before droplets started to fall, showering the dry ground in much needed liquid. Those droplets started drumming against the glass of the windows, picking up in strength, as the faint rumbles drew nearer.

The air was thick with electricity, frequencies intertwining with the static belonging to the forces of nature. It created a blanket of distortion in the mind of The Radio Demon. Scrambling his own thoughts, his awareness.

His mind felt heavy as he made his way to the window, clawed fingers snapping open the window lock, pushing the frame open to let in a gust of cold, humid air.

A deep breath was taken, crimson orbs glancing out into the darkness as he listened to the thunder roaring, the rain coming down hard now. Slowly, arms would be rested against the windowsill, his body leaning over some as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Those eyes would flutter shut, the sound of the storm raging flooding his mind, focusing his senses. Small bursts of energy would jump between his fingers, outside of his own knowledge, burning a bright white.

He needed his head to still. His thoughts to be buried. At least for a while.

Although he didn't quite know how to achieve that.

[corruptedcodelines]

His hand closed around a startlingly cold, smooth surface... his glitching systems almost throwing him into a soft crash at the sudden spike of sensation. Someone... hand g-given him... something. His helmeted head snapped over toward the direction his fragmented systems thought the item had been offered from... struggling to keep his processes together enough to sense what he had been given. It was... an... energy charge? Why... would the... t-the program give him... All of his systems pitched down and begun to slur... slowing to a painful crawl as his circuits dim even further... the virused residue from the Sea leeching away what little energy he had left. He... hewassotired...

It took everything in his glitching, energy drained being to bring his opposing hand around to grasp the top of the container... his hand shaking as he fumbled with the cap. It took him more tries than he found himself able to count before the lid finally came free... a stuttering breath of relief escaping his lips as he carefully lifted the vial to his mouth and drank. The pure, liquid power flowed like a river of blessed life through his fractured and bleeding code, the calming cool of the charge washing away some of the burning agony lacing his being as his circuits brightened to something close to normal. He... he could think... process... react... plan, his functions finally beginning to work. A breath of relief escaped his lips, fogging up the dark glass covering his face as he boots up self-repairs... his body relaxing just a bit in spite of the remaining pain. His code swirled, unease creeping over his spine. He... he was missing information... He... he was doing something. Query... he had been given a query. The program at his side was... trying to... to help him. Kill him. Disrupt...

His circuits flicker a lightshow of orange-red and white-blue as his code lurched again... a sick feeling coiling in his gut again as he finds his processes once more splitting into dual lines. He... why would he want to... to harm this program. She was offering help, aid when he so desperately needed it... He was coded to harm, to hurt, to kill...

The world pixelated at the edges again... that wretched sound carving through his chest with a sound he was now coming to realize was the sound of a processor malfunctioning. This... He... he had to drag his thoughts away from the l-loop...

Focus on the Question... answer the query. Don't think for... for just a moment... react.

He let his Processes fade to basic need as he put his energy into finding the exact location of the twin blips tugging at his soul. The world became a network of intersecting lines of energy... built together like ladders built from energy alone. He could now see the program beside him... There... only an arm's length away... highlighted in... not... orange... but... Blue...

Thoughts not his own cut through his processes like an angry feral Virus... his mind drifting as it moved forward once again.

Traitor. Defective. Threat. Betrayer just... like the rest of them... hurt... kill them before they can-

He gripped his head, letting out a cry of pain into the rocks below, his senses almost entirely disrupted as he makes a wild grasp for the information. Irrelevant data crowded for his attention, trying to drag his thoughts back down again as he felt like his being was being ripped in two. He slammed his head into the beach below... trying to do anything to get the pain to stop as he almost screamed the information through a Ping. LAST LOCẠ̶̊T̷̫̚Ì̴̡Ô̵̘N PING: Fif̴̜̎t̷̟̏e̵̩̿e̷̥͛n feet, sixty-two inc̵̛͎h̵͉̑é̷̤s... s-s-so̸̗̾u̶͔͠theas̵͉̎t. Check... pḁ̷͐ş̷̿t... water...

He... he needed... to s-stop this... w-war in his c-code...

@corruptedcodelines

The Rectifier was Clarke's worst nightmare. A process worse than repurposing that was nearly irreversible, and and with the equipment to process entire settlements in nanocycles into mindless drones pressed into Clu's army.

So, Clarke and the Rejects did what they did best. They slipped away from the rest of their regiment, and did as much damage as they could to the machinery and free as many programs as they could. According to Ada, there was another cluster of Rejects working to free the trapped programs, but it was slow going while they tried not to get caught. Clarke was the one who had a jet baton--not Occupation standard issue, but a relic from her past, meant to carry cargo long distances at high speeds--so she was the one who had to sneak the small group of captives off the Rectifier and get them to safety.

They were over the Sea of Simulation when the explosion occurred, and the shockwave knocked her offline and batted her jet and it's occupants into the Sea. She awoke millicycles later on a rocky shore, on what seemed to be a small island in the middle of the sea. At first, she didn't spot any other programs around; what happened to the Programs she'd been transporting, she had no idea.

Upon further inspection, she spotted the silhouette of a program unconscious a short distance away, half hidden by a cluster of rocks. One of hers or not, she had medical training, and should assist.

She halted several paces from the program, recognizing his helmet. However, she didn't have time to decide whether or not to help, as Rinzler's circuits glowed back to life, dim enough that it was impossible to tell their color.

[army-of-mai-lovers]

ok so the concept of due process is a thing in the United Republic? ok so like I’ve been saying, the Equalists need to go to fucking town in the courts

[junkpsyence]

Liquid Lightshow

[cassifiction]

Guarded - ch. 11: the wait

Reposting this chapter because for some reason when I uploaded it yesterday it wouldn't show up in ANY tag. So here's to hoping it shows up in the tags this time.

previous chapter, next chapter

read on AO3

Pairing: Sevika x female reader

Warnings: mention of guns (not in use), sexual themes near the end (solo)

Summary: beach episode

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: title extra relevant.

I wrote this chapter with a massive headache and it kind of feels like being intoxicated but without all the fun stuff. Describing nice sensations and scenery always helps me relax. Anyway, this is a bit of a filler chapter, but relevant for the story I want to tell. Hope you guys enjoy it.

“A little higher. Good, hold it like that.” you instructed, tapping the sniper rifle of one of your new students. They nodded and repositioned themselves, now holding their rifle correctly. You gave them a small nod in approval.

“That’ll be all for today. Please remember to bring your notebooks tomorrow morning.” you said to the rest of the group, dismissing the small number of people you had been teaching that day. A few polite goodbyes and then you were alone again, standing on the rooftop where you would give sniper lessons, overlooking the beach.

It had been a month since Silco had sent you away on this overseas assignment, to train the security staff of your new temporary employer. Despite your protests, it had not been negotiable. Silco had made his decision and you knew that once he had, there was little you could do to change his mind. You still resented him for it. And Sevika, who had accidentally had a hand in it as well? You weren’t sure if you were still mad at her.

You packed up your gear and took one last look at the beach. The sun was setting, painting everything in the surrounding area in a warm glow, the golden rays bouncing off the waves in a breathtaking yet subtle lightshow. The sight was unlike anything you would see in your day-to-day life, wandering through the sunless streets of Zaun. And yet, by watching the sun perform it’s stunning daily routine, you felt comforted. You realized that whatever life could throw at you, how terrible things might get, beautiful things would exist regardless.

Okay, that’s enough mushy shit for today. Time to go home.

As you descended the stairs of the building, you passed by some employees of your new temporary boss. One of them waved you down from across the room, motioning for you to come to her, so you did.

“What is it?” you asked.

“So sorry to bother you ma’am, but your assistance was requested.”

So formal..

All the people you had been working with had been exceptionally polite to you so far. It probably had something to do with Sevika’s silent threat to your new employer. You suppressed a smile as her words echoed through your head. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.” Heh. They’re good listeners.

The woman pointed at a stack of closed wooden crates next to her.

“A shipment of shimmer samples just arrived. (a/n: wow, try saying that 3 times fast.) They’re for quality testing, to compare our own production to meet Zaun’s standards. Since you’re a trusted source, it was requested that you open the crates and confirm that everything has arrived as it should have.”

That’s a bit of a weird request. Are these people themselves not trusted sources, considering they work for one of Silco’s associates?

“Uh, yeah, of course.” you replied, a bit confused at why they specifically needed you for this, but you complied. With a bit of effort, you took the lid off the crate and peered inside, seeing rows of neatly arranged tubes filled with the familiar bright pink liquid.

Well, that’s shimmer. What else did you expect? A puppy?

“Looks fine to me.” you said, glancing over the contents of the crate. Your eyes fell upon an empty tube that seemed to have a cracked top. “Hold on, one of them is broken..”

You reached out to grab it and the top came right off. Attached to its underside was a rolled up note.

A hidden message? Who would..

“Oh, that’s unfortunate.” the woman spoke. You hastily hid the note in your pocket before she could see. “But we have plenty, it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll ask the workers to be more careful next time.”

You nodded in agreement. It seemed like she hadn’t seen you grab the hidden note. You finished checking the rest of the crates and confirmed that everything else was as it should be, before you said goodbye and left the building for the day.

As you stepped outside, you were once again greeted by the warm orange glow of the setting sun. It felt like she was inviting you to come closer and take a moment for yourself, which seemed awfully alluring right now. You walked onto the beach and made yourself comfortable near the shore, kicking off your shoes so you could feel the sand and the pleasantly cool water between your toes. This seemed like a perfect moment to read that note you had found before. You were eager to find out what it contained and more than a little hopeful about who its sender might be. Your suspicions were confirmed when you read your own name at the top of the note, recognizing the handwriting. Sevika had written it, no doubt about it.

y/n,

Sorry about the weird delivery, but it’s very hard to get a message out to where you are. They’re still figuring out trade routes so shipments take forever. Silco the bastard is actively preventing me from sending messages to you for some reason. I figured this was the best way to get a letter out to you without anyone else reading it first. If you’re reading this, you have once again proven yourself to be a so-called “smart girl” for figuring it out.

I don’t think you’ll be surprised if I told you I’m not the best writer. Still, I want to apologize again for getting you into this mess situation. I fucked up I shouldn’t have suggested to Silco that you should be sent away on this job. I hope you’re not mad you don’t hate me for it. I just need to know you’re holding up alright.

The people you’re working with are supposed to send us a test batch in a week or two. Hide a note in a crate like I did if you want to send me a reply. Just to yell at me for being a for what I did or to talk about the weather and how much fun you’re having on the beach, I don’t care. As long as I hear back from you. Like I said, if you still want you’re still interested, I’ll be waiting for you. Impatiently. The new mechanic isn’t nearly as good as you and he sure isn’t as hot. And just so you know, once you get back we’re starting right where we left off. I might even buy you dinner first.

- Sevika

Ps. That new nickname I was gonna tell you about. It’s good girl. There. Now you know Now you don’t have to hype it up in your head and be disappointed when it turns out to be just a stupid boring variation of what it was before.

The sound of waves crashing nearby made you feel melancholic and alone as you read Sevika’s letter. You read it once, then once more, and a final third time as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

Good girl.

Finally. Finally, a message, anything that proved Sevika was still thinking of you. You looked up, seeing that the sun had now fully set and the beach was deserted. Cold, dark. You shivered and suddenly felt incredibly aware of just how lonely you were feeling and had been feeling the past month. Everyone you cared about was back home and you were stuck here by yourself. Sevika couldn’t come to save you. The only option was to work hard and rely on your skills so you could be home as soon as possible. Cold and lonely, yet determined, you stood up and stared at the dark ocean waves for a moment before you turned around to make your way back to your residence.

When you got back to the place you now called home, you immediately sat down at your desk with a pen and paper and started writing. It didn’t matter that you had to wait for two weeks to even get a chance at sending Sevika a letter. There were too many thoughts racing through your head and you needed to get rid of them somehow. As you put your thoughts down on paper, you wrote about how much you missed your life in Zaun, including all its drunks, criminals and polluted air. This coastal town felt too.. clean, somehow. Then you wrote about your assignment. How the people were nice, but almost too nice sometimes, making every interaction feel fake. How eager to learn your new students were and how exhausted you would be after teaching them all day. How beautiful the ocean was. How you wanted to watch the sunset with her one day. And finally, you wrote about how much you missed her. That you weren’t mad at her an didn’t hate her. That you were waiting for her as well. That you couldn’t wait to see her again. That you loved the new nickname. And how much you wanted her to whisper it into your ear while she..

No, that’s.. that’s way too much.

You crossed out the last sentence, but only about halfway, before signing the letter with your name. Reading back what you just wrote, you realized that it wasn’t so much a thoughtful letter as it was just word vomit about everything that had been on your mind lately. Luckily, it didn’t matter, you had plenty of time to rewrite the letter. Way too much time, unfortunately.. You sighed and walked away from your desk and laid down on your couch. You closed your eyes and listened to the distant ocean waves, a calming and constant sound. Sevika’s words repeated themselves in your mind and you tried to imagine them in her voice.

I want to apologize again.

I hope you don’t hate me.

As long as I hear back from you.

I’ll be waiting for you. Impatiently.

Once you get back we’re starting right where we left off.

I might even buy you dinner first.

Good girl.

The sentences slowly started to mix with the memories you had of the last time you were together. You tried to picture yourself back Sevika’s office, happily sitting on her lap again. The feeling of her strong thighs underneath you, the way she had held you..

Good girl.

You let out another long sigh, but not out of annoyance this time. Out of frustration. You had waited for Sevika to make a move for so long already. The thought of waiting for her for several more months was unbearable. But at least you had the memories of you two together. The feeling of her against you as you slept, the way she had kissed you, how she seemingly couldn’t keep her hands off you..

Good girl..

Eyes still closed, you let your head fall back and finally decided to give in to your own needs. Slipping a hand between your legs, you pictured all the things you wished were happening right now, offering some much needed relief from the lingering frustration. Sevika may not be here, but you had your imagination. And the fantasies managed to keep you satisfied to wait for her.

Notes: Sending myself on a cheap vacation by writing about pretty beaches. As if I don’t live near the coast and could be swimming in the sea within an hour if I wanted. Whatever. Beach episodes are fun.

Experimenting with y/n’s thoughts a little more here. Also, I could have picked a location in the actual Arcane/League universe to send y/n off to. But I’ll be honest, I just couldn’t be bothered so I just made it a nondescript coastal town instead. The fact that she gets sent off to a faraway place is more important to the plot than the location anyway.

Next chapter has smut. This, I promise.

Taglist: empty today because I already tagged this yesterday. Ask to be added, I'll be more than happy to.

[kronosfm]

JANUARY 7, 2040.

the dawn of a new decade is ushered in by fireworks, popped champagne bottles, and the promise of something great. or so says robert buchanan at his annual gala. every year since kronos’ inception, he has unveiled a new project, from mind-blowing virtual reality in 2028 to the robots in 2033 that changed the landscape of A.I. as we knew it. 

so what will 2040 bring?

only what some simply dream of.

a super serum. the announcement sends a ripple through robert’s guests seated for dinner, and as he launches into a speech about new beginnings and a way to the future, a pair of twins standing behind him are handed vials of pale blue liquid. it’s bottom’s up and waiting with bated breath until one of them lifts her hand, levitating a fountain of champagne glasses off a table. her brother makes bolts of electricity sing through the air, creating a lightshow to rival fireworks set off at midnight.

robert smiles and extends his hands. “thanks to the tireless work of our brilliant minds at kronos, anyone can be super.”

ooc information: 

welcome to our first event and the opening of kronosfm! all characters have been cordially invited to robert buchanan’s new year gala held in the novus museum of modern art. after dinner and the unveiling of the super serum, guests are free to dance, drink, and mingle throughout the night with the entire museum at their disposal.

interactions may now begin, and the event will run from january 27 - february 17 with the in-game date being the evening of saturday, january 7, 2040. 

additionally, you may make a post about your muse's outfit if you wish, but it's not required. posts can be tagged as kronosevent1.

[davidperea-travelart]

Fun Photoshoot

Liquid art show by: @themadalchemistliquidliteshow.

Music by: DJ Daddy. @terboted

Location: @arttitud

Photography: @davidperea_travelart

#lightshow #photooftheday #photo #photographer #photoshoot #lights #music #band #celebration #artistsoninstagram #artists #collaboration #fun #FlashbackFriday

[captains-simp]

Carol Danvers ~ Two Sides Of The Same Coin

Chapter 1: Audacity

The bounty of a lifetime isn't one you're about to turn down, despite the life threatening challenges and rivals. The most irritating of which is an intergalactic superhero who becomes insistent on aiding you, whether you like it or not

Two

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"For the hundredth time, I don't know where he is! Either buy something or go someplace else."

Fuck, another dead end.

You searched the bartender's irritated eyes for any trace of a lie, already knowing you wouldn't find any but still holding onto a glimmer of hope you would catch a trace of something.

Nothing.

What had hope ever gotten you anyway?

"Just some Asgardian ale." You muttered. You really shouldn't have been buying such an expensive drink. Not to mention wouldn't be able to have much of it due to your plans of not passing out drunk that night. But you were just as frustrated and tired as the bartender.

A break could help. You lied.

You paid the bartender and tried to ignore the harsh feeling of regret already being planted in your gut. At least the alcohol would get rid of that - before it got worse.

Taking the glass, you dragged yourself to the back of the bar towards the corner you thought you wouldn't be disturbed in. That was usually the kind of environment you had your best ideas and tactics planned. The noise stopped your mind from wandering and the low level allowed you to concentrate. Even the slight buzz of the alcohol had its advantages.

But there was no success that night.

The bartender knew nothing. He was your final lead who would corporate with you. The next person you visited would be far less welcoming.

You had known that would happen when you accepted the job. It was going to be the hardest one you ever did, and the most rewarding. You had to keep reminding yourself that.

You're going to make a lot of enemies. You warned yourself for the hundredth time that week. It was true, you would. The number of people you could trust would plummet. You would have your own hit on your head. Was that really something you were prepared for?

I already have. Nothing will change. I've prepared for this. This is the bounty of a lifetime.

You were staring into your glass when she sat down. Her blonde locks were a blur in your peripheral, a momentary distraction from the recognisable colours of her suit.

It was hard to comprehend it for a second. She had arrived so suddenly and caught you unaware. Something you weren't familiar with. It was unnerving.

You sat upright and met her studious gaze. She was watching you carefully, as though trying to get a read on you. You did the same.

You had always wondered, maybe even hoped, that you would meet her. You were in two different lines of business but it wasn't like you hadn't crossed paths with heros before. There was usually some kind of mutual understanding, even some respect. You were quick to learn there wouldn't be any of that from her - not in that bar.

"Y/l/n." Carol stated, as though the pair of you were already acquainted. But it was far from a warm greeting.

Part of you wondered if you had done something illegal in your last job. Usually things like that were never dealt with, no one had the time to be chasing around bounty hunters when they were practically always on the move (and you saved the authorities a lot of trouble).

"Danvers." You replied. Both of you maintaining your stoic expressions.

"Captain Danvers." She corrected. You didn't acknowledge that and made no effort to correct yourself, wondering if it would damage that ego you had heard so much about, so she continued. "I've heard you have some information that could be of interest." She said. You didn't like where that was going. "What do you know about Daexire?" Fuck all. "Working progress." She quipped an eyebrow at that and waited for you to elaborate. You hoped she would be quick to catch on that you weren't much of a talker and that you had no interest in letting her swoop in to take your bounty.

"Do you know where he is?" God, no.

You breathed deeply through your nose before you leant forward onto your arms and flicked the side of your glass. The sound carried between you for a brief moment.

"Do you really think I would be sat here if I did?" Carol's eyes flicked down to the liquid in your glass, took in your outfit then finally returned to your slightly narrowed eyes.

"I wouldn't be surprised." You put a lid on the anger starting to replace the regret in your guts.

You were about to assure her that wasn't what you did, that whoever had told her about you didn't know you at all. She started talking again before you could, not picking up on - or maybe just not acknowledging - the trace of annoyance that may have slipped. You blamed the alcohol for that.

"Do you know anyone who does?" You did. That was a long list you were working through. Daexire was a famous man. But he was also a feared and respected one. Both were hard to overcome.

"I don't." Had it been another bounty and another hero, you would have told them. However a bounty like it wouldn't come up again, it was what you needed to escape that life you had forced yourself into. And Carol's complete disregard of your capabilites was definetly something that was going to encourage you. Maybe your pride was a little fragile.

Carol narrowed her eyes at you for longer than you were comfortable with, because you both knew she didn't believe you. You also both knew that you wouldn't tell her anything different. Yet she persisted.

"Daexire is a powerful man. He abuses that power and will continue to do so until he's stopped." The seriousness of her voice had a small voice in the back of your head urge you to tell her what she needed to know. She was right. Daexire was powerful, and so was Carol. But you knew what you were doing too.

"So I hear." Was all you said as your eyes stayed fixed on hers.

"This is serious, y/l/n." Carol warned.

"So I hear." Her jaw clenched firmly at that. You were glad to see you had gained the upper hand in some way. It certainly encouraged you.

"You're in way over your head with Daexire." It was your turn to clench your jaw. She didn't even give you the benefit of the doubt.

"And what makes you think you're not?"

Without a word, Carol held her arm out at her side and aimed her fist at an area over your shoulder. Swirls of yellow light flowed around her fist with spikes of blue and red among it.

There was no time to admire the lightshow. A blast of energy left her fist and fired across the bar, sending everyone into panic.

Everyone ducked down to avoid the blast and it's damage but you weren't focused on them, or even the photon blast. Sure, it was a little close for comfort, but Carol wouldn't hurt you. That you were certain of.

"You want to distract Daexire with a lightshow?" You quipped, feigning disinterest. Carol was far from pleased with that.

"You're going to get yourself killed trying to capture him." She no longer held herself back, set on saying something to make you second guess your stubborness. "Just tell me who can lead me to him and it will all be over so much quicker." Carol was growing impatient and didn't try to hide it, or perhaps she was unable to. You had been taking the piss more than anyone had in a long time.

"I can handle myself and I can handle Daexire." Your confidence in your knowledge and abilities had never failed you before.

You downed the Asgardian ale in one before Carol could get another word in. Embracing the instant, electrifying burn of the alcohol, you stood up from your seat and left the bar without looking back at Captain Marvel.

* * *

"I don't know anything." He was lying through his teeth, which were currently tainted a light red from the blood in his mouth.

Just as you had guessed, your visit wasn't welcome. The moment he opened the door to you he tried to slam it in your face upon recognition, instantly attempting to flee through the back door. He had put up a fight when you caught him - a surprisingly long one - that had ended with him tired to his own chair while you looked around the house and asked him questions.

You found nothing. You knew Daexire never liked having a paper trail of his work, but you would be kicking yourself if you didn't try.

"What was the last thing you designed for him?" You asked as your eyes wondered across the mantelpiece.

The man, Owen, was renowned for his weapons. They weren't exactly your style, but you had seen enough close up demonstrations of those weapons to know they were efficient to say the least.

They were all overtly large and had a hell of a kick to them (and must be a joy to try out) not to mention the most expensive weapons on the black market. So it was no surprise there had been countless rumours that Owen had designed one or two things special for Daexire. Whether it was a spineless ass-kissing attempt, a try for an alliance or just fear of being on Daexire's bad side, you weren't sure.

"Nothing. I've never had any business with him." You didn't have to turn around to know he was lying. Having him in your peripheral was enough.

"You're not getting out of that chair until I'm satisfied with what you tell me." You said, eyeing the figurine of an old fashioned Earth car.

"I have nothing else to say." Owen scowled.

"Maybe we could have a chat instead?" You spun around at the sound of the cocky voice.

Carol met you with an arrogant smirk at the sight of your confusion, wanting to know how she had snuck up on you without you noticing...again!

You watched her in annoyance as she strolled across the room towards Owen.

"Seems like you do know people who can help, y/l/n."

"Must have slipped my mind." Not bothering to conceal the lie. Carol hummed in response and trailed her focus back to Owen.

"Daexire. Where is he?" Carol demanded in a no-bullshit tone. You watched Owen  carefully, curious to see if he was going to respond differently to the arrogant blonde, that would definetly be irritating.

"I already told that crazy bitch," he nodded in your direction, "I don't know." That wasn't a lie. He really didn't know. That didn't mean there wasn't other things he could share.

Carol clearly hadn't come to the same conclusion. In a second she had her arm raised and fired a photon blast across the room, making a prominent indent in the wall. That's getting annoying really quickly.

"He really doesn't know." You said as you leant back against the wall, your arms crossed as you watched the interaction.

"And how are you so sure?" Carol asked, completly unconvinced.

The corner of your lip twitched into a small smile. You weren't going to let Carol in on your secrets. At least not yet.

"I just do. So leave it."

"No chance." The swirls around her wrist started up again and this time Carol levelled her arm to Owen's chest. She wouldn't...would she?

Owen seemed skeptical too, willing to try his luck. "You're not going to kill me."

"Who said anything about killing? There isn't just one level to this thing, you know? It could just hurt...really badly." Carol left her implications hanging in the air as you both watched Owen fidget in his seat.

"I really don't know where he is-" Carol's fist lit up more and a soft hum emanated from it warningly. "Because no one does." He said in a rush, turning his face away. "He knows about the bounty and he doesn't trust anyone right now." Owen explained as fast as he could.

Carol glanced over at you, much to your surprise, and you nodded. He was telling the truth.

"So he's scared?" Carol asked, still holding her fist close.

"He's preparing."

"For what? Me?" You rolled your eyes and tried to ignore Carol's I'm-the-centre-of-the-universe attitude.

"For anything." That had you wondering just how many people were going after Daexire. You had assumed it would be very few. For most they wouldn't even come close and if they did it would be certain death.

"And that's all you know?" You knew it needed to be asked, but you hated that question because you were already certain of the answer. You looked up to have your thoughts confirmed. Truth.

You walked towards Owen and took a knife from your belt. He leant away for a moment but relaxed when you started cutting the ties.

Another dead end. You pondered if the knowledge that a lot of people were after Daexire would help you at some point. You knew you shouldn't let that optimism distract you.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Carol said in a mocking business woman tone.

Owen made the smart decision of not responding and rubbed his wrists as he watched the pair of you leave with another scowl.

"So where now?" Carol asked as you stepped out the door of the house with the blonde right behind you.

"Were you following me?" You accused as you took a step back to put some space between you.

"Yep." You didn't know if it was that Carol knew you would see through her lie or just that she wanted to declare that with some pride. The smug look on her face told you it was the latter.

It has been a couple days since your meeting in the bar. You would be lying if you said Carol hadn't popped up in your mind since then, wondering if you had made the right decision in brushing her off. But you really hadn't expected her to be following you.

"Well stop. This isn't happening." You motioned between the pair of you and made your way back to your ship to consider your options.

"I helped you out in there!" Carol called out as she jogged to catch up with you.

"You did fuck all." You scoffed. She didn't have a reply for that. You weren't entirely right - she did help - but you would have been fine on your own. Interrogation was something you excelled at. It wouldn't have taken you long to get those answers on your own.

"I can help." She insisted.

"Then help yourself, Danvers." Deliberately not calling her Captain.

You remotely opened the cargo door of your ship from the device around your forearm before you turned around to get another look at Carol.

"And don't follow me." You said as the door closed. She made no objections, but something told you you would be seeing the blonde hero again.

[authorred]

This a continuation of this post since there were some things that needed to be adjusted!

These hc's were inspired by this video (as requested by the original asker)

If this still isn't what you're looking for, I'm sorry

Warning(s): Mentions of gore, blood, general disturbing themes

- Boruto, under the Genjutsu, was immediately placed into a void. An abyss of darkness

- A trail of blood appeared in front of him, right in front of his feet

- Boruto didn't know how to react. Sure, he's seen blood before, but he has a slight aversion to it. Especially in large amounts

- His body was forced to follow the trail of blood, which was growing wider and wider every few feet

- Up ahead, he could see Hinata, her back facing him. She was wearing her normal clothes

- He called out to her, telling her he doesn't know what's happening or where is he. She hears him and slowly turns around to face him.

- His expression of relief is turned into one of horror when he sees Hinata's face. Skin and muscle pulled away from bone, liquefying into a puddle at their feet

- Hinata's body melted like a wax candle and like a matryoshka doll, another person stepped out of her liquid remains, looking up at Boruto with wide, lavender purple eyes. Their stomach was carved out, revealing the spine and the tips of the hip bones

- Boruto let out a screech, seeing Himawari stare up at him with such empty, lifeless eyes

- Himawari teared up, but when they fell down her cheeks, her eyes followed them, popping and rolling out of her sockets. They hung by the nerve. "Can you help me, brother?"

- Boruto spun around and ran away, shoes slipping against the blood on the ground.

- His surroundings around him flashed red like a lightshow, blinding and disorienting him

- Tall shadows loomed over his head, disappearing whenever it flashed to black, white eyes burning holes into him

- When he turned around, the blood trail was gone, replaced by an amalgamation of human bodies. Different colored eyes littered its body, all pairs of which were looking at him. The two legs it was standing on were limbs, twisting and intertwining with each other like tree roots, fingers and toes sticking out every so many inches. The skin on what would be its torso began to stretch, dozens of heads forming from it.

- Boruto let out a quiet yelp at the sight, to which all heads spun around to look at him.

- Boruto tried to run from it, but more of the shadow creatures appeared, creating a forest of glowing eyes towering over him

- The amalgamation took a step towards Boruto, its weight shaking the ground. When Boruto turned to look at it, it froze.

- Boruto backed up, but not so much so he'd touch the shadows. There was a moment of silence. He moved his foot back, to which bumped one of the shadow figures.

- He let out a squeak in fear and snapped his head up to look at the figures. The sudden movement made the amalgamation run at him, to which he screamed

Inojin's Reaction HCs:

- Inojin, after bringing Boruto home, would find you sitting in the living room, idly doing something

- He wouldn't want Sai or Ino to know about what you did, cause they would let it slip to the wrong person and get you in trouble

- He would ask if you could go with him somewhere private, either in the town or in your or his room

- He would tell you that even though Boruto had it coming, and he didn't know what you showed him, it was too far

- He explained to you what happened after he left and what might happen after that night

- You just tell him that you were showing what he(Boruto) wanted to experience. Either way, he now knows not to bother you anymore

- Inojin was greatly disturbed to see his sister do that to someone he knows and is friends with

- Inojin wanted to argue with you, but deep down he knew Boruto kind of deserved it

- Still though, he couldn't sleep that well that night

- You slept soundly

[hirokiro]

Roleplay Snippet: Trippy Tea Party

(Raff the Vampire is myself, Yumi the demoness is my friend’s) "Would the blood have to be given indefinitely over and over, or is there a point he'll be satisfied?"

He knew the answer was no, but he took the tea, and waited for an answer. Like hell he was going to drink.~

-"To be honest with you, I am not sure. I despise him greatly and well.. demons are rather greedy creatures more often than not and he is no different." 

The tea was very warm and smelled of ginger and lemon. "So with that in mind I think it would have to be indefinite until I figure out how to truly kill him. But unfortunately I cannot just go to a priest or priestess whenever he wakes and have them get rid of him for me. For obvious reasons." The girl frowned. "Sometimes it makes me want to not be a demon."~

-"I could walk up to one. Inadvertently through a guy I know with the town guard, who's probably on slightly better terms with them since he's a law abiding citizen. Or probably knows a guy. If not I can bribe someone to-- oh my god I'm actually considering this."

He looked at an unspecified location with a perturbed expression on his face. The habit of coming to the rescue had kicked in again.

If you offer to bleed for her, mate. Check into an insane asylum. Never again after those sending stones.

He needed a stiff drink, but there was just tea so he drank without remembering to be cautious.~

-The demon just chuckled, sipping her tea happily. "Well. I guess I'm happy you're taking it into consideration. But don't get too worried about it right now. He won't be back for at least three months with how beat up he got." 

The tea scolded his mouth as it had the witch. Hot drinks don't discriminate. Everyone gets a mouth full of ouch. *"Do you have any means of communication? I could probably send you a message when I need the assistance. 

-Ouch Tea... why'd you drink it man? If she drugged it...

It was as if she had read his thoughts. Or knew, asking about communications. Had she possibly been investigating him? Searching out the perfect patsy to rope into all this? Following the patterns of his life, she could figure out he was always ready to aid a woman in need, save a damsel in distress, a bit stupid sometimes. He didn't imagine her a damsel in distress for a second. She was dangerous. Some demons like Willow were good people. Most, not so much. Like Vampires.

"I do not." he said with false wistfulness, "Three months gives time though. I am in the middle of... helping someone else with a problem. I imagine it'll wrap up within that time, but, hard to say. And I do in fact have to get back to it." he stood.

"So perhaps you can toss a rock at my window some night. I stay at the Westside bounty-bar most of the time. Until that time, so long and stay out of trouble, eh?"~

-The tea was sweet and powerful, but... well... He did start to feel a little off after drinking it. Her eyes now made sense. Her brew was drugged, but it was simply how her tea was made. She enjoyed the colorful effects it had. 

"That's quite alright.. It's nice to hear there is still good out there in this city. As for time constraints, I wouldn't worry much about finishing quickly. Even if time draws near I will try my best to delay his arrival." 

The demoness grinned, and her green marks glowed like beacons. "Oh... But trouble likes to find me. It's much more fun than simply sitting around." 

His body suddenly felt weak and heavy as the twisty colors began to pass through his eyes and change the way they looked. "Did you like the tea by the way? It's been known to have some rather... interesting effects on people." Yumi giggled, seeing his eyes change. He'd find it very difficult to stand at this point.~

-He had done it, he was right about the tea but in a moment of stupidity he slipped up. Do not eat the food of fey, do not drink with demons... Just walk as far away from her as...

But he couldn't quite make anything cooperate. Took a wobble step, stumble, brace against the near wall, sliding down, trying to reach for his gun, shoot the bitch.

"Wh... what did you... do to me!?" he asked tightly. Things reeled, he couldn't tell if he hit the ground or was still struggling to stand. It was all twisting and spinning and kaleidoscoping like haywire. Nerves were on the fritz. Felt hallucinogenic and if he was not extremely afraid of where this was going, if for some strange reason he was in a controlled environment and took it willingly, he might have sat back and enjoyed it.

-She couldn't help but giggle, seeing his sway and panic. Once a demon, always a demon. She enjoyed seeing reactions as most of her species did. 

"I simply let you drink some of my tea, my sweet." The tall lady stood to her feet and simply took his firearm and cleaver off him, setting them to the side so he wouldn't start slashing about wildly or firing shots into the open air.��

"I made your eyes rather beautiful, if I do say so myself." As he was braced against the wall it made it easy for her to close the gap of space and take his shoulders softly. She wanted a close look at his eyes, finding them so very wonderful. 

"I believe I forgot to mention. It's been a rather long time since I've had any blood in my system and... well... Considering that is probably the way I'm going to keep that damned demon away from me and your city, I might as well get used to it again." She flashed her sharp teeth for a moment. It was normal for their teeth to be stabby and she made use of them. She leaned in and took a light bite of his neck, most definitely breaking his bubble. Surprisingly, Yumi wasn't violent and did the bare minimum to break his skin open and get at his blood.~

-He could vaguely see her beyond it all, but looking into her eyes made it worse. So much worse. He tried weakly to shove her off but got one hand on her arm for a moment before that flopped right back down.

Eyes widened as she spoke of blood. He tried again to fight but his muscles and nerves were in fact having fun without him.

"Don't don't do-hhha!" and she bit him. He was expecting a lot of pain. But this wasn't so bad. Still she was on him and he couldn't fight her off. How much was she going to take, would she kill him? Would she leave him or drag him off somewhere, a prisoner for her own uses?

He tried to focus on Willow, Namu, and Lily. He had to get back to them... they... they needed...

But the focus faded and the colors took over, only a vague sense of pain, of blood leaving his body and strange sensations all over and in his head.~

-What he saw was at least beautiful for those who loved colors moving in strange and mind bending patterns. 

Her arms stayed on his shoulders, keeping him still. She slightly feared if he wasn't held onto, his body would slump and he'd smack his head. 

"Relax.. I'm not trying to hurt you. If I wanted to, I would have already. Maybe I'll even let you have some? If you want." She would drink for a little, often taking breaks to make sure he wasn't losing too much and so she didn't become sick from the rich stuff. 

Yumi finished taking from him and sealed his wound with a spell. But she did leave a little mark on his neck, showing someone had been taking from him. "Still awake?" The demoness backed from his neck to see if he was asleep or not.~

-Rafferty was lost in it all. At some point the biting became sweet pain, the dizzy light headedness from losing blood was incredible, paired with the hallucinations. He wanted to bite back, have blood, a mutual exchange. Maybe even make out. He didn't know.

He was panting and gasping for blood near the end, fangs elongating, trying to find a warm neck but he couldn't see, couldn't lift his hands and grasp for her. Yumi was pretty much the only thing holding him up anymore.~

-The girl kept his steady and held up, knowing he was probably a bit dazed. The drink would be at its strongest now. Yumi's body had become used to its effects but still got a high and lightshow from it. 

"Heh.. You know, you look kinda cute all looped up." She gave him a look before taking his hand in return. Guessing he was in fact hungry, she led him to her neck. For safety reasons, she took a seat and brought him down. She probably wouldn't be able to stand soon especially since Rafferty would probably take more blood than her. 

Willow and Namu were getting slightly worried about Rafferty, but just guessed he was taking longer to find the demoness. He would have called if she was captured…~ -Sinking, warmth, the touch of skin and that beating of blood. For a moment he tried to drag himself back, feeling the wrongness for a moment, but then he bit gently despite himself, felt that warm liquid pouring into his mouth, and all was wonderful again.

It felt right to go slow, along with the strange rhythm of the lights, mellowing out. He did not have much before he could no longer function. He let go and felt a faint cry for help, a sort of strange noise of bliss squeezing out instead, and then his head lolled to the side and he passed out.