#(but that’s where the blood is supposed to be lol)

[fictionalsownme]

"Whump" | connor rk800 x reader | WIP BLURB

I don't post him all the time, but the connor brain rot is pretty bad lol I also really like whump and I saw this pin on pinterest and that's how this was born hehe. again, not really finished! abrupt ending but you can guess where it goes, established friendship, in my head the reader is a secretary at the DPD but it's not referenced. female reader, reader uses she/her pronouns.

disclaimer: this blurb is unedited and unfinished. just wanted to share some WIPs! Enjoy!

"Connor!"

You found his body slumped on the floor against the wall, his head hanging at an awkward angle.

There was blue blood… his blood everywhere. It was so bright against the blackness of the dirty floor that it almost seemed to glow.

"Oh my god--"

You ran to kneel at his side, nearly slipping on the thirium under your shoes. His legs were straight out like a broken doll's, you could see patches of his plating where his skin had retracted in the damage. Trying to manage your breathing, you gingerly cradled his head, lifting his face to meet your gaze. It was worse than you thought.

Retracted skin revealed massive damage to his white under-plating. Scratched and dented and caved-in. Blue blood was splattered across his face, it poured from his nose and over his lips to drip off his chin. It was immediately clear he wasn't conscious, with glazed over eyes and a slack jaw.

Whether he was in a sort-of standby or already dead you had no way of knowing.

You peeled open his jacket to reveal the center of his chest where thirium pooled the thickest in a gaping, mangled crater. Down to his lap and spilling over the dusty cement. You had no idea what his inner wiring was supposed to look like, but you knew it wasn't this.

"Fuck-- Connor?" You held his cheeks, your crying already starting up fresh once again. "Connor, can you hear me? I don't-- I don't know how to fix you! Connor?"

No signs. No light from his LED, no flickering of his irises, nothing.

You were sobbing in earnest now. Hiccupping and shaking and breathing in harsh, shuddering breaths. You grabbed your phone, trying not to scream when your realized your hands were covered in blue blood. Connor's blood. Your best friend's blood. It took you too long to use your phone, with multiple pauses to wipe your sticky hands on your jeans.

When it finally began to ring, you cradled it between your ear and shoulder. You weren't sure what your hands could do, so you started wiping the blood from Connor's face. Away from his eyes, off his cheeks.

"This is Markus."

"Markus! It's me, you gave me your number in case of emergencies-- It's Connor, he's-- Connor's hurt, he's not awake and there's blue blood e-everywhere and I don't know what to do, I don't even know if he's--"

"Wait, wait-- slow down, where are you?"

"I-I don't know! Some random abandoned building off of— fuck— Riverbank Drive? Connor's been missing all day since he picked up this case by himself and I retraced his steps and I-- fuck, Markus-- I don't even know if he's alive!"

"I need you to tell me his condition so I can get some biocomponents for him-- can you tell anything from what you see?"

You balled the fabric of his jacket in your fist. You swallowed hard, "His chest looks really bad-- it’s all m-mangled and, and empty? He… He's lost a lot of blood— God, Markus, tell me he's not dead."

"I'm on my way with some help, alright? Send me your location and stay with him. If he wakes up, keep him still until we can get there, you got it?"

You sobbed again and nodded, covering your face with a blood-drenched hand. "I'll be here, I promise."

After Markus hung up and you sent him your location, he assured you he was coming as fast as he could.

You kneeled there, clutching the material of Connor's sleeves and crying. You were so useless. For all you knew, Connor was already dead, and you were here, holding his empty body. Androids were more resilient than humans, sure, but all living things had a limit. You'd never stopped to consider Connor was anything other than indestructible.

You heard Markus' footsteps echo through the empty structure some minutes later. You had managed to reel back your hysterical sobbing down to silent tears with some measured breathing but your resolve was… precarious.

"Markus! Over here!”

You didn't see him until he rounded the corner, Simon in step behind him.

"Jesus Connor--" He hissed as he ran to join you at his side. He had a case with him, which Simon got to work opening. Parts and tools, packs of blue blood.

"What happened?" Markus asked you as his eyes flickered over Connor's form, no doubt scanning his injuries.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the tears streaking down your cheeks and the blood on your hands, legs, face. You couldn't take your eyes off of Connor. "I don't know."

"Someone must've taken him by surprise--" Simon began, beginning to dig through his supplies. "Could've been some kind of electrical signal, got the jump on his hardware, lagged him out before the fight even started."

"Is he gonna' be okay?" You asked, now just holding onto the edge of Connor's jacket sleeve while Markus and Simon got to work.

"I don't know. Could depend on how long he was shut down."

Markus' hand reached deep into the cavern at the center of Connor's torso. He pulled out what must've been a biocomponent, mangled beyond your recognition. He passed it to Simon, before grabbing what you hoped was a new one from the case.

He swapped out a few pieces like that, all unrecognizable to your untrained eyes. Until finally Simon was holding one you knew. You'd forgotten it's name, but it belonged in the center of Connor's torso and regulated his heartbeat. That's how Connor had explained it anyway.

Before he situated the final part inside his chest, Markus spent some time repairing Connor's plating and wiring. Adjusting placements, bending pieces back into place, sometimes welding seams just enough to function. You stayed quiet, staring blankly at Connor's limp hand resting on the floor next to yours.

Useless.

You were utterly useless.

You started when Markus kur-chunk-ed the regulator into place in the center of Connor's chest, his hands angling back and forth to ensure the connection.

The faint sound of machinery blossomed out from his center. Quiet humming and whirring, like a computer booting up.

His face was mostly angled toward you but you couldn't see his LED. Markus and Simon were still at work. Connor's eyes still looked glazed over and empty.

You eyes caught on some movement toward the cement. His fingers twitching.

"He's awake," said Simon suddenly. "Keep him calm."

You looked back to his face, and while he still had that unfocused expression, there was something in his eyes. A clue that he could see you. Well, maybe sort of see you.

"Connor?" You tried softly. Your throat was tight with the promise of more tears. That familiar tingling in your nose, the watering of your eyes. "It's me, I'm here with Markus and Simon. You… You're safe."

"What…" His voice came out staticky and metallic. Like it was passing through an old radio. He blinked, slow. "What happened…?"

You swept a hair away from his brow. You hoped in his state he couldn't feel your trembling. As scared as you were, you didn't want to frighten him any further. His head turned just that little bit more towards you. His LED was a dim crimson.

"You got hurt. But you're gonna be fine. We're gonna take care of you."

His eyes fluttered, and he was that little bit clearer.

"You found me?"

You wanted to say 'barely', wanted to say 'by sheer dumb luck', wanted to say 'I almost didn't. I almost killed you'.

"Always."

"Alright, Connor, you're going to start to stabilize a bit,” said Markus finally as he seemed to finish up the last of what work he could do.

He slowly, slowly, turned his head to meet Markus' eye. Like a ghost.

"When you can stand, let us know. We need to get you back to Jericho for more repairs."

"Is he going to be okay?" You couldn't help asking again.

"Now that he's awake, as long as we get him to Jericho soon, he should be fine," Simon reassured. "You're going to be fine, Connor."

“Someone attacked me… I didn’t see their face… don’t remember…”

“It’s okay,” you added gently. “Take it slow.”

“They could still be here.” And his hand took yours in a staggering motion. Weak and slow and disjointed.

“We’re here, Connor.” Markus put his hand on his arm. “We won’t let anything happen to her.”

Even like this… Even with all this pain he was still worried about you.

“I can stand.”

You wanted him to take it slower, to not push himself too hard, but the sooner he got to Jericho the better.

You stumbled back, dropping his hand as Markus and Simon went to either side of him.

They slotted their arms under his and behind his back, helping him to his feet. He actually groaned a bit at the effort. It was a deep, staticky sound you’d never heard from him before.

You walked with them like that, trying not to start crying again. You went a few paces ahead of them to open doors and check around corners as the four of you made your way out.

Every time you glanced in Connor’s direction, he was already watching you with a clouded expression. The look was only made more intense by the smeared blue blood across his face and in his hair. You prayed you’d never see him this hurt again in your life.

“What’d you get yourself into now, my friend?” Markus’ voice carried a slightly teasing tone.

“Bad day at the… office… what can I say?”

When you made it outside to the crisp Detroit air, a car was waiting. You practically jumped in, punching in the destination to Jericho while the two men helped Connor into the car as delicately as they could. You eased him in from your side, bracing him against you. Another strained sound fell from his lips. He was still bleeding, and his lap quickly started to pool with blue blood once again.

“Fuck, Connor…” The whisper escaped you before you could stop it, your hand bracing against his dented plating where the thirium seeped from the seams.

“I’ll be alright… please, just… stay close…”

You pressed your lips together to stop more tears from surfacing. “I will, I promise.”

In some weird way, you’d never felt so close to him before. The two of you were just friends obviously, maybe even best friends, but right now… You felt like he could ask you anything— anything in the world— and you’d do it.

You thought about helping him sit up straighter, but instead kept him held against you. And he leaned into the hold.

The ride to New Jericho couldn’t go fast enough. It wasn’t a boat anymore, so at least you didn’t have to go as far as the docks. The now embassy-style building was closer to the heart of Detroit, and fully fitted with an android hospital, outreach programs, offices for the new android officials (the most prominent, of course, being Markus). A base of operations of sorts.

You’d been once before with Connor, hence how you got Markus’ number. You would never be able to thank him enough.

[buriedpair]

Sober thoughts

Amias x GN Reader

Asks are closed for now, if y'all hadn't noticed yet. They'll be back open as soon as i catch up on everything LOL

The sound of the chair screeching against the floor barely registered in the packed casino. The ringing was deafening, the bells chiming, and the room spinning.

Yeah, Amias is definitely drunk.

He stumbles his way to an empty blackjack table, leaning against it and scanning the room. His eyes flit around at the speed of light, looking for something–nay, someone– specific.

He sees you, a member of the wait staff, passing drinks to gamblers not too far from where he stands. He openly scoffs.

You have some fucking nerve, acting like nothing happened between you two. Acting like he didn’t confess to you in the dimly lit corner of the casino. He can still see the horrified look on your face as you shook your head. It’s nauseating. 

The disgusting memory sobers him up some, just in time to catch you walking away. He knows you’ll have to pass him to get to your next order. He won’t lose this opportunity again.

The smell… Oh god, the smell. The smell that is you. He could get high off of that scent alone. He’d drown in it, and gladly suffocate by its hands.

“Amias?” You whisper with barely parted lips, your hand trembling in his own as he keeps you from walking too far. His hair covers his face in a dark shadow. He can barely breathe. 

“Is this about before? I’m really sorry, I just–” You begin, but he quickly cuts you off by using his free hand to squish your face into a pout.

“Don’t talk,” He murmurs. You can feel his pulse in his palms, blood pumping, sending every muscle in his body into shivers whenever he takes a breath. “Dolls aren’t supposed to talk.”

He hiccups, and all at once you realize how much alcohol he’s consumed. Damnit, definitely not the situation you want to be in right now.

His hand slowly loosens on your face, holding your chin like you’re a delicate object. An object he’s unwilling to break. The pads of his fingers gingerly run over your lips, almost like he’s inspecting you on a molecular level.

Suddenly, you’re yanked into his arms. He keeps you in a firm embrace, drawing shapes into your back as he holds you.

“For someone so cute, you really are stupid.” He hisses, the menacing aura dripping off of him like water. 

His forehead finds its way to your shoulder, and he inhales sharply as he feels his skin against yours. He’s at an awkward angle due to his horns, and your shoulder is starting to burn from feeling them embed themselves within your skin. He doesn’t seem to care, he simply pulls you closer.

When he finally pulls away, he appears to have gained almost no clarity. He keeps you no more than an arms length away, massaging his hands against your shoulders absentmindedly. 

“You can try to reject me as many times as you want. I’ll always find you. I’ll always be one step ahead. I know everything about you.” He smiles, and it’d be a warm, comforting blanket in any other scenario. But here, it feels cold and terrifying.

He releases your shoulders, running a hand down his face.

“Mmn… I’m gonna have a killer headache in the morning.” He murmurs to himself, turning to walk away and leaving you mortified in his wake.

[brekitten]

Bruce doesn't dream.

He never has, really - at least, not that he can remember. He never even had nightmares from the night his parents died. Maybe that's why; maybe he just subconsciously trained himself to not dream after that night, in fear of the nightmares that were sure to come. But the point is that he does not dream.

And yet.

The dream always starts out the same, every night, every time he closes his eyes and slips into the embrace of sleep. He's in a pitch-black room, one so dark that he can't see his hands even when he raises them right in front of his face. He knows, somehow, that he can walk for hours without coming into contact with anything - walls, furniture, anything at all to indicate that he was even in a room. Yet he knows that he is, although he's not sure why, as there really is no reason for him to know that.

The dream changes, after a while of walking. He knows that he won't find anything, no matter how far or how long he walks. This place is empty, desolate even. It fills him with dread every time. The change is never consistent, always bringing him to a different place each night.

(Once, it was a dusty old bedroom, one that made his heart ache, although he didn't know why. He had taken notice of the various space-themed decorations, the model rockets and NASA posters and stars on the ceiling. It was clearly a child's bedroom, but it hadn't been used in a long time. Another time, it was a darkened lab, illuminated only by the strange vials of green liquid lined along the many, many shelves. Bruce had wondered, after he had awoken, if it was Lazarus Water, but that felt wrong. It was something else. Something more. It had made him uneasy, and he got the feeling that something terrible had happened there. He didn't get a chance to investigate the gaping hole in the wall before he had been whisked away to another part of the dream.)

This time, he is in a brightly-lit white lab, and he has to blink stars out of his eyes at the abrupt change in lighting and color. He looks around; it seems like a typical lab, but everything is pure white, except for a green stain on the table. He can feel bile rising in his throat at the sight of the cuffs on the table, and though he still doesn't know what the green substance is, he gets the horrible feeling that it's blood. A lot of it.

He uses what little time he has to investigate the lab. There is an abundance of medical supplies, but many look unused, with the exception of the scalpels. The pit in his stomach continues to grow. Why were there so many? He reaches toward a vial of red liquid, wrong wrong wrong this is wrong, when the dream changes again.

Now he's in what is clearly a cell, except even the cells in Arkham aren't this bare. The only thing it contains is a familiar white-haired teenager, who is chained to the floor with cuffs that glow the same green as the vials of Lazarus Water that he's seen before.

Though Bruce has never learned his name, he has been in every dream, the one constant (besides the empty room, of course) in each one. The kid has never spoken, never done more than watch, but Bruce has always gotten the feeling that he was the reason for these strange dreams.

He knows that he should be more worried. If some kind of meta has managed to get inside his head, there's no telling what could happen. But he can't bring himself to be. Something is wrong, and it's not the teenager.

He can't help but think of his own children.

Something feels . . . off this time. The kid isn't looking up, isn't even moving - he seems limp, almost, as he kneels on the ground, weighed down by the chains keeping him there. Green blood - Bruce knows it's blood now, it has to be - drips from his still figure, pooling on the ground underneath him.

Bruce can't move. He desperately wants to, what could he even do? but it's like he's frozen in place. He can only watch as the teenager slowly, agonizingly, looks up at him, his bright green eyes dull and filled with fear and desperation and hope and -

Bruce wakes.

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

"fenris hates all mages" counterpoint: he just has beef with Anders Specifically

[add1ctedt0you]

Four times Jiang Cheng protected someone

Bonus: Two times Jiang Cheng was protected by someone

Yet, at the same time, Wen Zhuliu was closing in on Madam Yu. He looked as if he was about to knock her down. Jiang Cheng hurried, "Mom!"

He immediately gave up on Wang Lingjiao and threw himself over.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - Chapter 58 - Poisons - Part 3

That, at the town we passed on our way, when you were buying food, a group of Wen Sect cultivators caught up. That, I discovered them early and left where I sat, hiding at the corner of the street and didn't get caught, but they were patrolling the streets and would soon run into you outside.

That this was why I ran out and distracted them.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - Chapter 110 - Concealment - Part 4

Jiang Cheng heard the voice as well. In an istant, his face had turned white, "Sis? Sis! Where are you? Where are you?"

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - Chapter 78 - Nightfall - part 3

With a roar, Nie Mingjue grabbed at Jin Ling. Both Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling had backed away to the corner of the wall, unable to retreat further. Jiang Cheng could only stuff Jin Ling behind him and unsheathe Sandu, which at the moment was unable to use spiritual energy, forcing himself to fend off the attack.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - Chapter 107- Concealment - Part 1

Bonus:

Lan Wangji grabbed Wei Wuxian's shoulder with one hand, letting Wei Wuxian stand behind him, and with his other hand he forcefully pushed away Jiang Cheng's hand. Rage could be seen hidden within his eyes. Although his push held no spiritual energy, it was quite powerful in terms of strength. The wound at Jiang Cheng's chest ripped apart again. Blood surged.

Jin Ling cried, "Uncle, your wound! Hanguang-jun, spare some mercy!"

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - Chapter 102- Hatred - Part 5

Nie Mingjue's heavy fist punched through a body.

But the body was neither Jiang Cheng's nor Jin Ling's.

Wen Ning blocked himself before the wall, in front of the two of them. With both his hands, he grabbed Nie Mingjue's iron arm and slowly pulled it out of his chest, leaving behind a large, hollow hole. There was no bleeding. Only a couple of black organ crumbs fell out.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - Chapter 107- Concealment - Part 1

[rhuemis]

i still haven't seen Hannibal

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital painting based on the film Ladrones de tumbas. It depicts the character Armando laying in sheets as his guts ooze out of a large hole in his stomach. The blood travels up to his face which is turned to the side in anguish. One of his hands lays near his face. As the gits drip down they transition into a bright red pile of abstract circles and some other shapes. In this pile there are the words "el tesoro". The colours used for the piece are mostly blues with reds for the gore and some purple and greens mixed in. The rest of the piece is a dark void.]

Inktober - Day 10 (Fortune)

Film - Ladrones de tumbas (Rubén Galindo Jr., 1989)

[sysig]

Bad time of it, all things considered (Patreon)

[syninplays]

Witch hideout 💀

let's ignore that I forgot to take these in window mode so they came out darker

[stabbystiletto]

"They're all gonna laugh at you!!! 😫😫😫"

Okay so please consider a modern highschool au wherein it is senior prom. The theme this year is "A Night at the Masquerade," and Christine Daaé, feeling remorseful over a particular bullying incident, has asked the weird kid in class to prom.

But Carlotta, spiteful over being banned from prom after walking out on detention over said bullying incident, enlists the help of Firmin to set up a nasty little surprise over the stage 😏😏😏😈😈😈🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[wr0ngwarp]

um. uh. hi every body. something evil and malevolent happened in my brain this month.

this is. um. a Jet Set Radio/Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Death joke AU, spawned out of a in-joke that started in a pokepasta discord. my apologies to both the pokepasta and jsr fandoms

the entire basis is the idea that Corn in Future retconned og JSR Beat as leader/founder of the GGs (is beat being leader in the og even CANON?) so Corn and Beat are the Myras. no it's not a joke funny enough to justify how many hours i sunk into drawing these. no attempt was made to change the setting, assign most of the other cast, or otherwise make this au hold up to ANY amount of scrutiny. if i tried to make this actually work somehow then i'd REALLY end up too far gone. also i keep calling myrtle!beat "Meat".

MEANWHILE, IN A BETTER UNIVERSE:,

[chronicillnesscaneffoffplease]

“The labs found something wrong!” 😊😌

“The labs found something wrong!” 😥😔

The two moods when labs actually come back with stuff out of range and clearly not right™️.

[sydmarch]

stigmata

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Boruto things that made me lose my mind (ep 25-40):

If I hear "what a drag..." one more time, so help me god, I will lose it

Pointing out clichés in your writing isn't clever, it's still bad writing

Suigetsu @ mitsuki: here's your intel, little gay boy

Boruto: kagura is a good ninja, his ancestry doesn't matter! Bad guy: kagura is a bad ninja, he freaks out and kills everyone when he weilds a sword (if kagura wasn't a ninja he would have nothing to feel bad abt, why is that not an option?)

Naruto 🤝 Boruto making all the boys obsessed with them

Sarada: were u really good friends with lord 7th as a child? Sakrua: ...we were more like family (well... im glad she didnt lie abt being his friend)

Boruto staring up at a beautiful sky: even if I tried, I don't think I could forget this (never say never, kid, ur dad once forgot he had a crow shoved down his throat)

Naruto @ orochimaru: our relationship is one of cooperation (natuto ur past self would beat the piss outta you)

The genin exam in naruto's time looks unhinged in comparison to the boruto extensive testing: if u can shadow clone yourself, u r ready to die in mortal combat (clearly kakashi made sweeping changes in his time as hokage)

Konoha: things have changed in this village, u don't have to be a ninja if u don't wanna :-D But if u do wanna, you make the decision to put ur life on the line at age fucking 12. So, progress but still on the path to dead children. That's our ninja way.

Why does iruka look 20 years older than kakashi when he's like 4 years younger 😭

Wow a sarada/boruto accidental kiss. It's just like the naruto/sasuke kiss, except with 1000% less romantic tension

Orochimaru: I must make sure my beloved synthetic son has free will. Therefore I will lie to his face, force him to confront the horror of his existence and make a high stakes choice about his allegiance, and erase his memory 6 times until I get the result I want

Why are all naruto missions involving bridges cursed?

[pepprs]

just went thru all of the notes on that post and like. YEAH. it’s a fucking wonder. like i should get to scream. i should get to lie down. i should get to have as many treats as i want for free.