#*damage pictured is exaggerated

[sieglinde-freud]

the pandreo experience

[bywrios]

"c'mon, giddy'up back there," boothill mutters, his knee bouncing restlessly as he resists the urge to turn over his shoulder and check on your progress again. you grumble behind him, one hand smacking his metallic waist, and he can picture the furrow of your brow and the way your tongue sticks out in concentration in his mind's eye. one of the metal panels of his back has been removed, exposing the wires and circuitry of his mechanical organs.

the whole reason for this impromptu examination was the fact that he had been feeling... strange after his last bounty, for some reason. it had involved a high-speed chase in a roofless car, hot on the heels of some ipc scumbag. he’d done his best to dodge whatever shitty bullets the scumbag’s entourage had shot at him, but clearly, something had stuck—which is why he sits between your knees now as you check him up for damages.

his boot thumps on the soft, dusty earth under his heel. “well?”

“hold your damn horses,” you snipe back, muttering under your breath. he can feel a light pressure against the cords and connectors in his spine, the artificial replacement of his nerves. “i need to—oh.”

“what? whatsit?” he asks, a note of urgency in his voice at your silence. he isn’t particularly worried about getting fixed; his bounties ensure he has more than enough credits to spend on spare parts. it’s just that it’s a pain to have to travel to the nearest non-ipc mechanic feeling all funny.

(he ignores the voice in his head that tells him the true source of his worry: that his faulty body might not be able to protect you.)

“what’s wrong?”

he’s about ready to spin back when he hears a choked exhale rush out of your nose, followed by the airy sound of your giggles. it makes him still, but this time out of confusion, rather than concern.

“what the fudge has got you laughin’ your boots off back there?” he grumbles, and you only laugh harder. he glances over his shoulder and sees tears lining your pretty eyes, and then he glances down and sees… some sort of flying insect between your fingers? a very dead, and very fried insect. it had probably slipped in through one of the chinks in his plated skin during the chase.

“i guess you— i guess you could say there was a hardware bug,” you wheeze, free hand gripping onto his shoulder to steady yourself in between your fits of laughter. boothill gives you a withering glare, and plucks the dead, charred bug from your fingers, grinding it to dust between his own. he pretends to be annoyed, lips curled into a frown, but there’s a lightness to him he hasn’t felt in a while.

“hardy har har, yer so dang funny, ain’tcha?” he scoffs, shoving you lightly into the dirt.

you answer him with another burst of sweet laughter, unbothered and too lost in your own mirth, and it reminds him of the sound of the wind blowing through the mountain valleys, and how it whispered into his ears when he used to ride horses and not roofless cars.

with an exaggerated sigh, he lets your enjoyment at his expense slide this time.

(he doesn’t have a biological heart anymore, but even that mechanical thing in his chest can’t bring himself to interrupt you.)

[theprongspotter]

Bag - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 19 - 1,009 words

Regulus stands near the entrance of the student union, staring down at his phone as his thumbs dances across the screen with rapid precision. Barty has been blowing up his phone for the past five minutes with increasingly ridiculous messages, ranging from “r u dead or smth??” to “im dying of boredom in this hellhole.”

“Get a grip,” Regulus mutters under his breath as another notification from Barty pinged onto the screen. He responds quickly, reassuring his impatient friend that he’d be there soon, though Barty’s dramatics were beginning to grate on his nerves. He can practically picture Barty slouched over a table in the library, drumming his fingers in exaggerated impatience while Evan probably sat quietly, ignoring his antics.

Just as he finishes typing, a voice rings out sharply through the busy hallway: “Look out!”

Regulus barely has time to lift his head before a figure comes barreling toward him like a freight train. His eyes widen, and for a split second, everything seems to slow down. But there is no stopping the inevitable. The next moment, the person’s solid frame collides with his, and the impact sends Regulus sprawling backward onto the cool tiles. His phone slips from his fingers, clattering onto the floor beside him.

A sharp ache radiates through his lower back and elbows from the fall, and Regulus grimaces, his palms pressing against the ground for support as he momentarily lays there, dazed. There is a murmur of concerned voices around him, the hallway bustling with students between classes, but Regulus ignores them as he mentally assessed the damage. It isn’t until he gathers himself to stand with his phone in his hand that he notices something was missing.

His tote bag.

The realization hits him like a second wave of panic. His black tote bag, the one that carries his laptop, books, and—most importantly—his latest assignment, is no longer slung over his shoulder. Regulus’ gaze darts around frantically as he scans the ground around him. A wave of frustration surges in his chest. Of course, he thinks bitterly. Just my luck.

As if this day can’t get any worse, a figure steps into his line of sight, holding the missing tote bag in one hand. Regulus’ eyes flickers up, ready to snarl, but the words catch in his throat. Standing there, with an awkward, sheepish smile, is none other than James Potter, the university’s star rugby player and, unfortunately for Regulus, his brother Sirius’ obnoxiously loud best friend. His presence is both a blessing and a curse—at least he has retrieved the bag, but now Regulus had to deal with him.

James’ smile is lopsided, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “Sorry about that,” he says, his voice warm and slightly breathless. “I—well, we—” He gestures over his shoulder, and Regulus notices the group of people standing a few feet away: Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius himself, all of them looking somewhat amused by the situation. Sirius has his arms crossed, a grin playing at his lips as if this were all part of some grand joke.

Regulus scowls, his irritation flaring up again as he snatches his bag from James’ hand. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters tersely, his sharp gaze darting away from James and back toward his bag as he checks for damage.

James, however, doesn’t seem put off by the attitude. If anything, his grin widens, his hazel eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “I’m James, by the way,” he says, as if Regulus hasn’t just dismissed him.

“I know who you are,” Regulus snaps, slinging his bag back over his shoulder. He adjusts the strap with a little more force than necessary and begins walking toward the library, trying to put as much distance between himself and Potter as possible.

But James isn’t easily deterred. He falls into step beside Regulus effortlessly, his grin now teasing. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me?”

Regulus shoots him an irritated glance. “The whole school knows who you are,” he retorts, wishing Potter would take the hint and leave him alone.

James raises his eyebrows, his smirk growing more playful. “Yeah, but this is different.”

Regulus stops mid-step, turning to face James with a raised brow. “How?”

James takes a step closer, his voice dropping slightly as he answers, “Because you’re you.”

Regulus blinks, completely thrown by the response. His brain scrambles to process the sudden shift in tone, but the confusion only deepens his frustration. “Yeah, that makes no fucking sense,” he finally says, shaking his head as he turns on his heel and resumes his walk to the library.

James laughs lightly, easily falling back into step beside him. “Where are you headed?” he asks, his tone friendly, like they are just two mates chatting after class.

“Away from you,” Regulus mutters, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

“Aw, now why would you say that, love?” James’ tone is lighthearted, but the endearment makes Regulus’ stomach flip involuntarily. He clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to snap back.

Before he can respond, Sirius’ voice rings out from behind them. “Oi, Prongs! Stop flirting with my brother and get back here!”

Regulus and James both turn to see Sirius standing with his hands cupped around his mouth, Remus and Peter standing nearby with amused expressions. James chuckles, giving a playful salute in response. “Right, right. I’m coming.”

He looks back at Regulus, his grin still annoyingly charming. “See you around, Reg,” he said, his voice low and warm, and before Regulus can come up with a retort, James winks at him and jogs back to his group of friends.

Regulus stands frozen for a moment, his heart thudding annoyingly in his chest. His cheeks flushes, much to his dismay, and he scowls at the floor as he hurries the rest of the way to the library. No matter how hard he tries, though, he can’t shake the lingering warmth from James’ attention—or the fluttering in his stomach that just won’t go away.

[lonely-cowboy]

chasing rainbows

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: you recently learned that connor has only ever seen the world in one color. gutted at the thought of such a colorless world, you decide to help him see the beauty of the world. only he doesn't care about the world. he only cares about you.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: nothing major, but lowkey a mess bc this is my first longer-ish fic, reader is really embracing her y/n moment, connor is so ooc it's kinda insane but i love him so whatever, they're both really confused about their feelings until they're suddenly not

author's note: i'm replaying dbh as one does bc i was sad and missed connor AND I'M LITERALLY FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE THIS PLAYTHROUGH?? my first playthrough was so nice and sweet and silly so now i'm trying to get other endings BUT I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR ALL THE EMOTIONAL DAMAGE?? anyway, my solution (as always) was to write happy connor and some grumpy hank yay! yes i did spend the first 1k words talking about literal colors, ignore that

masterlist ⟡ requests

Work was never the place to do work. That was something you learned from Hank after working under him for years.

Sitting at your desk that was situated across from Hank and Connor, you decided to ignore your terminal and the case report it displayed. You’d get to it eventually. Eventually. Besides, you were confident that you would be able to finish it relatively quickly.

Instead, you were tiredly flipping through a book of color swatches. Your gaze flitted across endless pages, darting from color to color as you searched for something eye-catching. In your recent efforts to make your apartment feel more homely, you decided it was time to add an accent wall, you just needed the right color. Obviously, the precinct was the best place to be color searching.

By the time you reached the end of the swatch booklet, you had only found two colors that interested you. At least then it would be easier to make a decision. You eyed the olive and plum swatches like you would a homicide suspect, trying your best to picture them in your apartment. You pursed your lips in thought, staring at the colors for so long that you could’ve sworn you were going cross-eyed.

“Detective?” Connor called, your eyes snapping to meet his. “Are you alright?”

“Actually, no, I’m not,” you answered with an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound as hopeless as possible. “I’m having quite the dilemma.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked.

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt. He always showed such care for you. Sometimes you wondered if it was just another part of his social programming, but somehow, you knew it wasn’t. Connor genuinely did care about you, even when it was just your inability to pick a paint color. You almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.

“I just can’t for the life of me decide on a paint color,” you said, glancing up at him with that shit-eating grin he was unfortunate to know so well.

Connor’s pleasant smile collapsed into a disappointed frown once he realized he had succumbed to your teasing.

“Saw that coming from a mile away,” Hank grumbled.

“You can help too, Lieutenant!” you said in an excessively cheerful tone, just to annoy Hank. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, kid” Hank sighed, turning his chair to face you fully. Work was never the place to do work.

With both Connor and Hank focused on you, you slid the two color swatches across your desk. Hank leaned forward with mild interest, nodding his head to himself as he considered both choices. Connor mimicked Hank, leaning forward and furrowing his brows at the sight of the swatches.

After a long moment of deliberation, Hank finally said, “Green.”

You nodded in approval as Connor looked at Hank with what could only be described as pure confusion. He then turned back to the colors before looking at you with an unsettled expression.

“I don’t understand,” Connor murmured. “These colors are the same.”

You and Hank stared at Connor in bewilderment. Maybe you could understand it if the colors were different shades of the same color and androids just had a poor sense of color differentiation. But these swatches weren’t even remotely close in color. There was nothing similar about them at all.

You and Hank exchanged a look of confusion. Maybe this was Connor’s attempt at a joke. No, he had made jokes before, and they were genuinely funny. Especially the ones that poked fun at Hank.

“Connor,” you started. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the same,” Connor repeated with a shrug, looking between you and Hank like he didn’t understand what he was missing. And he obviously didn’t understand.

“One is olive, one is plum,” you said.

“Green and purple,” Hank offered rather unhelpfully.

Connor only shrugged again, still unable to differentiate the two.

“Does anything look different than normal?” you questioned.

“No,” Connor replied simply.

Was it possible for androids to be colorblind? The idea baffled you. The only way Connor could be colorblind was if he was programmed to be that way. Why would he be programmed to not see color?

“Can you… I don’t know… describe what things look like to you?” you asked unsurely. Was that too abstract of a thought for an android? It was already too abstract for you. “Does everything look the same color?”

Connor considered your question, eyes narrowed as he glanced around the precinct. Hank looked at you like you were crazy for wanting to get to the root of this. Maybe you were.

“I… I suppose it all appears relatively similar,” Connor said with equal uncertainty.

You frowned at that. The world must have seemed so… well, sad to Connor. You hated the thought of his world being limited to a single color. He deserved to see the world for what it really was. He deserved so much… If you could at least give him this one thing, you would be satisfied.

“Do you want to change that?” you proposed.

“I admit, I would be curious,” Connor replied.

Immediately, you jumped up from your desk chair and started putting your coat on. Connor took that as a sign to do the same, rising from his chair to stand beside you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hank interjected. “Where do you two think you’re going?”

“To help Connor, obviously,” you replied with a bratty eye roll.

“That has nothing to do with work, kid, sit down,” Hank retorted, preferring that the two of you stayed with him so that he didn’t have to suffer alone.

“This has everything to do with work,” you countered like the typical asshole Hank knew you as. “Don’t you realize all the ways this probably inhibits Connor’s work? I mean, picture a typical crime scene. There are probably so many details he’s missing because he can’t fucking see color!”

“Actually,” Connor remarked. “I speculate that my limited color sensory was included in an effort to keep me focused on my investigations and avoid any distractions–”

“Connor,” you intervened, turning to give him a stern look.

“Yes, Detective?”

“Shut up.”

Immediately, Connor sealed his lips shut and pressed them into a thin line. You adored it when he listened to you.

You turned your attention back to Hank, flashing that brilliant smile that told him you weren’t going to listen to a single fucking thing he said. He sighed grumpily at the sight of it, turning back to his desk with a shake of his head.

In the absence of any other objections, you grabbed Connor’s hand and led him out of the precinct. You wondered if he could see the vibrant blush that coated your cheeks at the intimate contact. You hoped not.

He did.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Are you sure about this?” you questioned hesitantly.

In the middle of your living room, you stood in front of Connor with his new occipital unit in hand. You held it gingerly as if the slightest touch would break it. Although it was a lot easier to purchase biocomponents than you had expected. If it were to break, you would only have to walk three or so blocks to buy a new one.

You looked at Connor worriedly while he stood patiently. You were far, far from any kind of engineer. You had absolutely zero experience when it came to replacing android biocomponents. No matter how many times Connor reassured you, you still stressed at the thought of making a mistake. He promised it was easy, but how could changing biocomponents be anywhere close to easy?

“You can do it, I promise,” Connor murmured encouragingly.

His hand came up to encircle your wrist, tugging your hand forward gently. Your cheeks heated at the contact, making you aware of just how close the two of you were. You glanced away bashfully as you were overwhelmed by butterflies. When you returned your attention to Connor, you watched in awe as the skin around his right eye peeled away, revealing the natural white plastic. Connor’s eyes flicked across your face nervously, worried that you might be disturbed. But to you, it was like seeing a new and vulnerable side to Connor, one that you very much enjoyed.

As you reached for his current occipital unit, you froze with your brows furrowed. Your apartment was far from an interesting sight. There wasn’t much to look at, your apartment still lacking a homely feeling. Damnit, you really needed that accent wall.

“Come on,” you said without explanation.

You moved to leave your apartment after gently placing the two new occipital units into your bag. Slugging it over your shoulder, you waited at the door for Connor to follow. Connor stared after you, the white plastic disappearing.

“Come on,” you repeated, gesturing for him to follow.

Connor followed without a second thought. God, it really was so endearing when he listened.

You led Connor out of your apartment building and across the street to the nearby park. You wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours, trying to find the most scenic view for Connor to enjoy as his first sight.

At last, you settled on a bench situated in front of a little pond. Tall, stooping trees crowded the pond with just enough space between their branches to see the bright sky above. You were glad to be enjoying this moment in the fall when the leaves were the perfect shades of orange.

You stood with your hands on your hips, eyeing the view with a skeptical glint. Connor would be able to see a good range of colors from here. This place would do just fine.

Pulling Connor along, you sat him down on the bench by lightly pressing on his shoulders. Once he was seated with his hands neatly placed along his thighs, you reached for the first occipital unit from your bag.

“Okay,” you said with a determined huff. “Much better view, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it very well,” Connor replied cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, rolling your eyes at Connor’s teasing. This only meant he had been spending a concerning amount of time around you and Hank. When you looked back at him, you exhaled slowly, “Ready?”

Connor nodded once, revealing the white plastic of his right eye once again. Before pulling it out, you reached forward and pressed a soft hand overtop Connor’s eyes, silently reminding him to keep his eyes closed until you said otherwise. When you pulled your hand away, you were pleased to find that his eyes remained closed.

Your fingertips then pressed against the plastic of Connor’s occipital unit. It popped out easily, allowing you to pull it out slowly and with ease, just as Connor had promised. It was jarring to see him without an eye. Or rather without a whole chunk of his face. You worried you might still mess up, leaving him without half of his face.

But when you pressed the new occipital unit forward, you found that it was just as easy as pulling the old one out. It took a moment to adjust, but the new part quickly shifted to match Connor’s appearance, his freckled skin melting over it and the doe-like shape of his eyes returning. That made you sigh with relief. You just hoped they were still the same beautiful brown you found yourself constantly lost in.

You then did the same with his other eye, quietly applauding yourself for not making a single mistake.

With his occipital units in place, you rounded the bench to stand behind Connor whose eyes remained closed obediently. Standing behind him, you placed your hands over his eyes once again, a giddy smile adorning your lips.

“You ready?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.

“I think so,” Connor said hesitantly.

“Yeah, you’re ready,” you decided.

Slowly, you pulled your hands away, studying Connor with a sweet smile. You expected him to enjoy the view in silence, looking at every single thing he possibly could. But you were surprised to find that he barely even regarded the view. Instead, he immediately turned to look at you from over his shoulder.

With a tentative hand, he reached out for your hand that rested on the bench’s back. He pulled you gently around the bench so that you stood in front of him. His hand still held your limp hand as he stood to face you. He looked down at you with a small but warm smile, eyes exploring every inch of your face.

The unexpected attention had your heart racing, a nervous heat spreading throughout your body. You clenched your jaw tightly, a jumble of confusing and unwanted emotions consuming your entirety. Not wanting to say anything stupid to ruin… whatever this moment was, you clamped your mouth shut. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander, exploring Connor’s features the same way he did yours.

Connor’s warm touch left your hand, making you frown ever so slightly. But you were immediately comforted as he placed both hands on your cheeks. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles along your cheekbones like they had a mind of their own, relaxing your clenched jaw. His eyes locked with yours, never once blinking in fear that he would miss something if he did.

You practically forgot how to speak. You forgot how to do everything. It was a hassle to recall how you were even supposed to breathe. The only thing you could do was stare at Connor with a dreamy glimmer in your eyes.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Connor mumbled.

You swallowed timidly before speaking, “Thank you.”

“You’re…” Connor began before his LED circled red.

Your gaze flickered to his LED, watching intently as it continued to flash red. That was a poor move on your part. Having broken the intense eye contact, Connor glanced away from you, looking straight ahead and dropping his hands from your cheeks like he suddenly awoke from a trance. Focused on the horizon, Connor’s LED spiraled yellow several times before returning to its typical blue.

His sudden change in attitude only added to your confusion of emotions. You took a pained step back, eyes falling to the ground.

“I didn’t expect the leaves to be this color,” Connor commented casually.

You cleared your throat and turned your back to Connor to focus on the leaves. You didn’t want him to see your embarrassed flush, though you were sure he already did.

“They’re not always this color,” you muttered. “Only in the fall. In the warmer months, they’re green.”

You caught a glimpse of Connor tilting his head, his nose scrunched with intrigue. He tried to visualize what that would look like, but having only seen one color since his creation, he didn’t seem to understand.

“Green like… like the grass,” you clarified, pointing to an open patch of grass.

“I’d like to see that. Perhaps you can bring me back here in the spring,” Connor hummed. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Are there other colors to see?”

“So many more,” you answered, flashing Connor a small (and slightly awkward) smile.

Connor trailed along beside you as you strolled through the park. Still too embarrassed to look at him, you also took the opportunity to admire the beauty of the park’s striking colors. You were ignorant to the way Connor watched you contently out of the corner of his eye. Of all the wonderfully colorful sights, you were by far his favorite. You were the only thing he could look at.

“Which one is your favorite?” Connor asked as you slowed your walk, having walked the entirety of the park. “Color, I mean.”

You stopped to consider his question, looking around at the abundance of colors. They were all so beautiful in their own ways that it was difficult to choose. But then your eyes landed on Connor, and it seemed so clear.

“Blue,” you replied definitively.

You felt foolish for your choice, but you couldn’t help that there was some truth to it. Blue had always been a pleasant color, but after knowing Connor, it took on a different meaning. When Connor’s LED was blue, it indicated he was happy. Or at least satisfied. You liked to see him when he was happy. It eased your mind knowing he was content. Because of him, it was now a color you associated with joy.

Though you didn’t say anything, you looked away flustered, wondering if Connor could somehow read your mind. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if he could.

“Do you have a favorite?” you inquired quickly.

Connor pursed his lips, mimicking you as he looked around the park. His head then snapped down to look at you, eyes immediately finding yours. He cocked his head curiously the way he always did. The way that made you so weak you could barely stand.

“What color are your eyes?” Connor wondered.

Your eyes widened, eyebrows arched as if you had misheard him. But you knew you hadn’t.

The way he spoke so nonchalantly drove you insane. How could he be so casual about something like this? Did he know what he was doing to you? Was he doing it on purpose? What did any of this mean? Was there any chance at all that he could care for you the same way you did him?

“Uh…,” you mumbled, stuttering out your eye color.

Connor nodded thoughtfully at your answer, his charming eyes still latched onto yours.

“Then that’s what I would say,” said Connor. “Your eyes are my favorite.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, clueless as to how on earth you were supposed to respond to that.

The corners of Connor’s lips quirked into an affectionate smile. He arched his brows at you like he expected something more than just oh.

Your mind was racing for anything to say. Were you just supposed to ignore Connor’s loving words that felt far too much like a subtle confession? Were you supposed to confront it head-on? Neither of those options sounded good.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “I like them too.”

As you cursed yourself endlessly for saying the stupidest fucking thing to come to mind, Connor’s grin widened. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, one that you didn’t hear through the blaring alarms screaming “why are you such an idiot?” in your head.

“That was stupid,” you groaned, deciding it was better to admit it than ignore it. “But… thank you. You… you have pretty eyes too.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Connor said cheerfully.

You moved to continue walking with Connor close at your side. Maybe you were crazy (there was always a good chance of that), but you could’ve sworn he was standing considerably closer than before. Your arm swung at your side, his arm brushing against yours in the slightest. It didn’t matter how insignificant that touch was, it meant something to you. Maybe it meant something to Connor too.

You had been walking in complete silence until Connor spoke, his words making you trip and fumble and scream and cry and scream and die a little.

“You’re pretty to look at. All of you, not just your eyes,” he said, shooting you an adorably attractive wink for emphasis.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Connor trailing ahead until he noticed you were no longer beside him. You stared at him with a far too serious expression, one that made him doubt his words. How could he be so casual about something so serious? Did he actually feel this way, or was it all a heartless prank?

“Your words are really fucking with me, Connor, you know that?” you said.

“I know,” Connor nodded with a cocky edge. God, he really was spending way too much time with you and Hank to be this snarky.. “Your heart has been racing the entire time we’ve been together.”

“So you’re purposefully torturing me?”

“I wouldn’t consider this torture. But, yes. I suppose I’ve been… holding this over you.”

“Well, stop that!”

Connor flashed you a cheeky grin as he approached you again. His hands moved to cup your reddened cheeks, warming them with his soft touch.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t do this to you,” Connor said fondly. “Not when you’ve shown me how beautiful the world is… How beautiful you are.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, trying to hide the smile that crept along your lips.

“You’ve told me before that I’m terrible at shutting up, I don’t see why I should start now.”

You and Connor wore matching smirks as you tried to best the other, subconsciously moving closer to each other.

“Oh, so you don’t want to shut up and kiss me?” you parried.

“When did those words ever leave my mouth?”

“When did you get so cocky?”

“When I realized I could have you.”

You had nothing to say after that. No witty remark or snide comment. All you could offer was a gentle smile.

Connor leaned forward, his nose brushing against yours. He was so close that you could feel his breath– so real for an android– against your lips.

“Pretty smile too,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours.

“It’d look even prettier if you actually kissed me,” you whispered.

Connor knew he couldn’t win this battle of wits. He honorably accepted his loss, knowing it was the only way to kiss you. You beamed into his kiss, proud of yourself for being so stubborn. That was quickly lost on you when you felt the softness of Connor’s lips. You indulged in his touch, leaning forward against his chest to feel as much of him as possible.

Connor pulled away sooner than you would have liked, resting his forehead against yours. A breath of a laugh escaped his lips when he saw that desperate glint in your eyes. He pulled back to look you in the eye after pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. His thumb brushed under your eye, lost in the color he loved so dearly.

“You’ll always be my favorite sight.”

[fuck-customers]

Customer livid about the book she ordered having slight cosmetic damage from shipping being like "I'm a LIBRARIAN if I see a damaged book I will FAINT and DIE" (I'm exaggerating but that was the gist of it)

I'm like. My mother was a librarian, I spent a very large percentage of my childhood in libraries. If anyone is completely desensitized to minor cosmetic damage to books, it's a librarian. You're either lying or you're an absolute nightmare to your coworkers and the library patrons.

I don't even care if she wants a partial refund or a replacement copy, I get wanting your books to not have scuffed corners, but specifically acting like her being a LIBRARIAN made her super duper special and we should have known that without being told and not exposed her delicate constitution to traumatic sights like a book that was damaged in shipping after it left our hands is absurd.

All you have to do is say "hey, this got damaged, can I send it back for a refund/new copy?" with some pictures and bam, problem solved and solution set up in the system in five minutes max. Instead it took all day and half a dozen emails of escalating verbal abuse from Madam Librarian to get even one picture of the box and now there's a flag on the order that we're not sending the replacement until we see tracking information that the original is on its way back

It is literally my job to help you, you do not have to act like this is the end of the world because you're a librarian who somehow can't handle scuffed books. This is perfectly routine to me all I need is the tiniest bit of cooperation.

God if she actually is for real a librarian everyone must hate her so much.

Posted by admin Rodney

[freezingmcxn]

Jeff the Killer: A deep “analysis” of his appearance.

Tw: heavy discussion of gore and grotesque imagery

I'm not a medical professional, these insights are based on research from books, medical websites, and basic biology I learned in school.

Jeff the Killer is a character known for his appearance, shaped by bleach, fire, and his Glasgow smile.

However, I want to consider his look from a realistic perspective.

His Skin

Ac:shatteredankles

Jeff would likely exhibit various types of burns with different colors and textures. Pale skin alone wouldn't define his appearance:

Immediately After Being Burned

His wounds might appear red, bumpy, and extremely swollen.

Blisters, ranging from a few centimeters to a few inches (depending on severity), could form across the affected areas, giving his skin a “glossy sheen”.

In the most affected parts, the external layer of skin could “split open” and separate from the layers beneath, revealing raw, shiny, and splotchy skin.

The area that dealt with the most intense flames could become blackened, bloody and flaky wounds.

The parts of his skin that burned for the longest might have left his skin looking leathery rather than freshly burned, skin cooks (think of beef jerky).

Healing Process

If Jeff had received skin grafts in a hospital, the scars might show a fishnet pattern due to the stretching of the grafts. However, it’s unlikely that Jeff’s body would have fully healed without extensive treatment(he decided to murder his whole family before getting it..so y’know).

Therefore, his burns might be severely infected:

Swelling and fluid buildup under the skin and around wounds would start to happen.

This fluid could be yellow, green, brown, or black, accompanied by a foul odor like “ammonia or spoiled fruit”

Fourth-degree burns could have caused significant nerve damage, leaving him in constant pain and with a high risk of septic shock.

Demeanour

Burning bleach can release toxic fumes, including chlorine gas, leading to severe respiratory issues, lung damage, and potential poisoning:

Jeff might have a chronic cough, difficulty speaking, and breathing issues, resulting in a raspy voice.

Burns are extremely itchy, especially first-degree burns, leading to relentless scratching.

Jeff would likely be in excruciating pain constantly, possibly resulting in substance abuse, such as morphine and painkillers, due to his inability to access medical care as a fugitive.

His skin might be peeling or falling off, necessitating the use of bandages to hold it together and attempt to heal.

Jeff could suffer from PTSD (btw adding this depth to his character is amazing to see rather than the usual edgy teen)

His Smile

Jeff’s cheeks are cut from the corners of his mouth up towards his ears, creating an exaggerated "smile."

The Initial Injury

The cuts would be deep, extending through multiple layers of skin and possibly affecting the muscles around the mouth.

This specific type injury would cause so much bleeding, and without immediate medical intervention, it would be difficult to manage on his own, he would’ve been gushing blood for a long time, enough to make him pass out.

The initial pain from such an injury would be excruciating obviously , this will most definitely contribute to Jeff's psychological state.

Healing and Scarring

As the wounds attempt to heal, they would form thick, rigid scar tissue. The scars might be red/purple initially, fading to a lighter color over time but remaining highly visible (look up pictures of a healed Glasgow smile).

The scars would be rough and raised, with a “puckered apperance due to the tension in the skin as it heals.” The skin around the scars might appear uneven and bumpy.

The scarring could cause stiffness and limit the movement of his mouth, making most facial expressions very difficult.

Eating, drinking, and speaking could be significantly impaired due to the weird structure and function of his mouth.

Given Jeff’s lack of proper medical care, the cuts could become infected, like his burns.

Infected scars might appear swollen, red, and could exude pus (gross).

The deep cuts could damage facial nerves, leading to areas of numbness or chronic pain and hypersensitivity around the scars.

The scars would be a constant reminder of his trauma and might show signs of repeated irritation or reopening due to scratching his burns and all around poor healing environment.

I have no motivation to answer asks on my au rn, I’m trying my best, I made this for y’all :)

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hello! I read your Daredevil Darling fic for Macaque and loved it so much! I was wondering if you would do it for Wukong too to have his perspective on it

Pairing: Wukong x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: You've had it up to here with your boyfriend, now it's time to show him that you're not a wimp. Warnings/Tags: Slight angst, implied self-harm, well, not really implied when it's clear as day-, argument, self-deprecation, hurt/comfort. Word Count: 900+ words

"You're officially an idiot."

"How can you be so stupid?" 

"Why the fuck did you do that?" 

And many other things you began spewing out as you awaited for your second execution. Exaggerations aside, you were totally and utterly fucked when your boyfriend arrives. 

How did you end up lying in the middle of your living room with both hands wrapped in gauze? Well, it all started when you and Wukong were in a little iffy mood with each other during date night at his place. From playing video games together, to board games, then finally playing truth or dare, which ended terribly. The two of you had a mean streak going on, neither of you were backing down from the most atrocious dares that were said. 

"You better give up now, buttercup, I just can't lose."

"Says you! I dare you to lick the bottom of the couch while doing a handstand using your nails only!" 

"Pfft, fine! Then you have to hold a hot pan that's been in the oven for ten seconds! Oh wait, I forgot, you can't." 

"I can!" 

"Nuh uh." "Yuh huh!" "Nuh uh." "Yuh huh!" "Nuh uh." "Yuh HUH-!" 

You get the picture. 

That one sentence stuck with you during your little fight with Wukong and set off the rest of the events that resulted in you almost frying your hands off.

"Look, peaches, it's not like I'm saying you can't do some pretty amazing ultra cool stuff, but you're not…well, me…soooo, please don't get yourself hurt cause you wanna act all high and mighty." 

Maybe he was right. Now you feel pretty shitty after trying to prove him wrong days after that eventful night. If it wasn't for Mei barging into your apartment/home to drag you out to hangout, you wouldn't have been able to call for help, much less leave your apartment without damaging your hands even more. After tending to your burns with her help and begging her not to call an ambulance, you were left to await Wukong's arrival after Mei had decided to contact him instead. 

The slam from your front door made you wince as you looked in the direction blocked by your sofa. Wukong's face popped around the furniture as he lowered his gaze onto your pitiful form; you were laid out on your rug with a pillow under your head and bandaged arms resting on your stomach. Mei slowly appeared out from behind your boyfriend tapping both of her index fingers together, she mumbled a farewell before booking it out of your place. 

Wukong knelt beside you and placed a hand over your left one. His touch was gentle enough to not cause you to hiss in pain from the applied pressure as he poked around your injury. 

"I-"

"I don't want to hear it." 

You clamped your mouth shut and furrowed your brow as Wukong continued staring at your hands, his expression tight and void of any emotion that would suggest that he was upset. No,  no, if anything he looked..disappointed?

You felt sick to your stomach. You would have greatly preferred him screaming obscenities at you than…whatever this was.

You couldn't hold your gaze on him anymore and opted to stare at the ceiling. 

Wukong took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, he rubbed the side of his head as he carefully examined your hands. 

"I don't know what possessed you into doing this or…or thinking this is alright, but I know damn well it better not be because of some stupid dare that I joked about days ago." 

"How was I supposed to know you were joking," You grumbled under your breath.

Wukong stared at you. 

You glared back. 

Wukong narrowed his eyes and scoffed.

Your gaze wavered as the need to blink caused you to look away first. 

"..." Wukong called out your name sternly. When you didn't turn to look at him, Wukong threw his hands up in defeat. "Why do…this? Out of everything you could've done-!"

"-and not take the chance to prove that I'm able to do things like you? Oh, I'm so sorry your majesty, please let me hear all about how fucking weak I am," Your nose crinkled as you fought back the sting in your eyes, but that didn't stop your voice from cracking. 

 

"...are you…?" Wukong blinked back his shock as he shook his head and was so frustrated he could only stammer the rest of his words out. "Are you serious? I don't…no, I…why would I think you're weak-"

Wukong paused as he recalled what he had said that day, his eyes squeezed shut as he placed a hand on your bicep. 

"Oh no, hun, no, no…I'm-"

You sniffed as you shrugged off his hand. Wukong's frown deepened as he reached for you again, but decided to keep his hands to himself. 

"Why didn't you tell me? Or better yet, shut me up? Y'know I say dumb stuff sometimes, I-" Wukong bit his lip. Finding the words to articulate the feelings stirring in his heart was tough. "-I'm sorry, alright? I probably should've taken the taunts down a notch,  but I'm not a mind reader, I couldn't have known it'd bother you this much when you haven't said anything to me…and…and you usually handle my teasing well! I…I'm sorry, I really am." 

If his soft pleas didn't rope you in already, then him curling up beside you with his tail around your ankle did. Not to mention the onslaught of cheesy compliments he began whispering to you. Your cheeks were practically as hot as the pan you burned yourself with as Wukong added kisses with each sorry. You glanced at him and sighed after a few seconds of his overwhelming display of affection.

"Can you…help me till 'm better?" 

"Of course," Wukong smiled as you carefully scooted closer to him. "Anything for you, peaches, just…please let me know if I'm being a jerk next time" 

"Alright," You snorted as you placed your head against Wukong's chest. Wukong made sure he wasn't putting pressure on your hands as he carried you from the floor and walked you over to your bedroom. 

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight!!

[heaven-is-in-your-arms-series]

Costume Break Down

aka more than you ever wanted to know about Thai dance costume details but I think they are gorgeous and require so much effort to create and wear that they are worth celebrating.

Let's take a look at Khem's beautiful red costume.

Here the presence of the dagger and the colour choice quite firmly indicate that he is performing the role of the hero Prince Inao from the Lakhon Nai dance drama 'The Romance of Inao.'

His costume is based on the traditional costumes worn by heroes in both Khon and Lakhon Nai. There are some historical differences between the two types but they have very much influenced each other from the 19th Century onwards.

There are some elements of his costume that read as modern influences which I suspect are to reflect both current tastes and also the fact that the costume was intended to be seen on screen rather than a stage.

Here we see Khem's ornate headdress, known as a chada, he has a flower garland on the right side of his crown, which is the side that male characters always wear these flower pendants with heroines displaying them on the left.(Historically Lakhon Nai was only performed by women and was only for the eyes of the royal court although rules did relax in the 19th Century.)

It's hard to see in these pictures but he would usually be wearing the ornate wing shaped ear kaffa as well, which sit around the ears.

We can also see his very fine inthorn-tanu, which are those high pointed shoulder pads, worn by male characters to exaggerate their body shape.

We can see him wearing the ornate wide collar around his neck, known as a krong-kaw and a large pendant pinned to the end of the collar against his chest.

A body chain known as sangwan is then crossed around the pendant and is usually attached to an ornamental belt or just below it, at the front and back of the costume.

Khem's sangwan is a relatively simple looking version of what can be a very intricate piece of jewellery but I suspect it is because the camera will be getting a much closer look at him than an audience looking at a stage could do.

In general I think his costume is not quite as ornate and covered with detail as a stage costume often is but there is just enough there to show the luxurious nature of dance outfits without looking too much on screen.

The above picture also gives us a great look at both his hoy-na, a silk panel that hangs at the front of the costume, (here it is red and gold with gold fringe) and his hoy-kang, the silk panels that sit either side of the central hoy-na.

We also see one very modern addition - the shiny gold buttons!

Traditionally dancers are sewn into their costumes with no visible seams, a lengthy process which does run the risk of damaging the costumes every time they are stitched and unstitched.

I suspect that Apo is still partly sewn into this outfit but I imagine they wanted to give him a top that he could get in and out of more easily as he would need to be able to change constantly for filming.

I really like the design of the top, it gives both a hint of Western influence with the shape but also has a Chinese feel with the high collar and then those beautiful very Indian looking fabrics, which feels appropriate for the era and for Man Suang itself. We see it sits over the pha-nung and hoy-na etc which would not typically be the case and is why I suspect he is not also wearing a cloth belt under it as well (mentioned below.)

The red tights are also a modern addition, usually we would see bare legs and feet but they do give a very theatrical look which feels fitting for Man Suang.

From this angle we can see his pha-nung, which is a long rectangular cloth that is usually pre stitched and pleated and is wrapped around the waist and drawn through the legs to be tied in a knot at the back.

Underneath that he will be wearing a pair of sanab-plao, short trousers with deep embroidered hems that sit just below the knee.

He may also be wearing pha-pawk, which is a fabric that basically functions like hip pads to assist the pha-nung in exaggerating the body shape to create an image that mimics statues and murals depicting dancers.

Usually he would be wearing a radsa-aew, a cloth belt which is stitched into place and secures the pha-nung. I can't tell just by looking at this but I suspect he may not be given the way his clothes are lying.

We can see he is wearing a lovely cloak here that appears to be silk lined velvet.

Here we can see his embroidered sleeves, these are usually sewn on to an undershirt which also has padding sewn into it to exaggerate the shape of their chests. The decorative outer shirt is then usually sewn onto that undershirt.

Now in this picture, we see the fancy sleeves taper off to a plain red fabric at the shoulders which could indicate the presence of an undershirt but there is that clip in the trailer where Khem tugs his costume open and we see his bare chest so I don't know whether he is or isn't. Perhaps it depends on the necessity for him to be able to strip in any given scene which is totally fine by me!

We can also see his decorative golden vambraces and he is likely also wearing beads or a bracelet of rings as well. Usually more is more when it comes to dance jewellery but once again, I think they have been more restrained here.

Rings worn on the fingers are common and of course, anklets are essential.

At least they are to me ❤️

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 18/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

Update: There will be a change in the chapter upload schedule. New chapters here will be posted MWF starting this week so next update will be on Friday. While TTh are days for me to rewrite and post story 1 chapters on ao3.

Thank you for your understanding <3

-----------------------------------------------

Adam is actually adjusting rather well in Hell which, honestly, baffled Charlie and the others. Lucifer not so much because he's pretty sure Adam was not meant for Heaven but they didn't wanna embarrass themselves by having the first human soul fall in Hell.

And they say Lucifer's the prideful one.

Sure, the dickhead bitches and complains but he deduced the guy would do it regardless of where he was. He always thought that Adam was a lazy ass son of a bitch who's all dick and no brains; like one of those jock characters from Charlie's DVD collection.

Maybe that's why he's adjusting so well. His attitude is very on brand for Hell.

Still doesn't explain this, though.

Lucifer: How are you so good at this? I thought you said you hated it.

Adam: I said I hated it not that I'm shit at it. Besides, who the fuck loves doing paperwork?

Today, Lucifer is at the palace catching up on centuries worth of documents that he missed during this 'me-time'. The Sins initially offered to take over so that he could rest but he insists on doing it himself. He feels bad about relying on the Sins too much every time there's a problem. He's supposed to the older brother! The-uh- King of Hell! And what King can't even do simple paperwork?

Apparently he is, because he and Adam have been at this for days now and the pile just never seem to lessen. He's beginning to think someone has cursed him to be stuck here forever.

Speaking of Adam, Lucifer won't admit it to his face but the other has been a very big help; like they're actually making progress and none of the work is half-assed too.

He can't help but look on in wonder at how the first man is just zooming through the endless papers.

Adam: Oi. I know I'm a fine piece of art but can you stop lookin' at me like that? Take a picture, it'll last longer.

Lucifer: I just can't get my head around all this.

Adam: What's not to get, bruh? You know I'm good at everything; even the boring shit. I handle Sera's when she's too busy doing fuck knows too, you know!

Lucifer: Excuse- what?! You handled Sera's documents?? And she didn't stop you the first time???

Adam: Okay- why the fuck are you acting like that's such a shock?

Lucifer: Helloooooo it's freakin' Sera? It's you? I just-

Lucifer makes an exaggerated gesture of scratching his head in mock confusion.

Lucifer: -is she out of her mind? Did she suffer some form of brain damage?

Adam: Okay, look. You are making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be, I don't pry into your stupid skills and insecurities.

Lucifer: Bitch, you literally do that all the time!

It was nice, in a weird way, how they're bantering. It almost reminds Lucifer of the first days he came to Eden; how Lilith and Adam pretended for a bit to get along for him.

As an angel, he was taught to see the good in everything. After all, everything was made by Father's hand so why would they be anything less than good and perfect?

They say that God is omnipotent and all-knowing, so he often wonders if his Father intentionally made the humans that way. Still does not explain why he would cast him out when the mistake was in his Father's hands.

Because.

Adam was fun until he said something about Lilith. Adam was fine until he acts like a 'man'. Adam was a friend until he wasn't.

Eden was one hell of a reality check. Pun intended.

Man, was pre-humanity Heaven always been cult-like?

Adam: Bro, how bout you shut up and let me do the work you've forced upon me. And why are you here anyway? I thought you live at that hotel now.

Lucifer: Oh? Would you rather do the work there? I have to warn you; Nifty goes in and out of rooms as she pleases to clean so-

Adam: Ah!!!! Don't say that name!

Lucifer: What? Afraid she's gonna come out of the mirror like some sort of Bloody Mary?

Adam bearing his teeth at him like a wild animal is a funny sight to see but then a got a very genius idea, a literal lightbulb turned on above his head.

Lucifer: Nifty...

Sensing what Lucifer is doing, Adam scrambles up and charges at him. Lucifer dodged him with ease and flies high above the room away from prying hands.

Lucifer: Niftyyyyy~

Adam: Lucifer, stop that shit!

Lucifer: Niffffffffffffffty-

Nifty: Hey guys!

The scream the two let out at the sudden voice were embarrassingly high enough to be mistaken for a teenage girl's.

Adam: WHAT THE FUCK?!

Lucifer: Jesus Christ!

Despite the panic in front of her, the little cyclops just smiled on.

Lucifer: Nifty, what in the world are you doing here?

Adam: Get that thing away from me!

Lucifer: Oh don't be such a baby, it's just Nifty.

Adam: You screamed too, asshole!

He gave Adam a wave to say 'whatever' and turns back to Nifty who has her eyes locked on the panicking demon behind him.

Maybe he should let her have at it at him just a little.

Nifty: I'd love to start a goat collection hehe~

Okay, nevermind. With Adam's surprising skills at organization, he can't afford to die yet until he finishes Lucifer's paperwork.

Lucifer: Uh Nifty, my question?

Nifty: Yes, roach queen?

Lucifer: Roach what? You know what, don't answer that. I asked why are you here.

Nifty: Oh! Miss Charlie is calling for you. Seems pretty urgent.

Lucifer: Did something happen at the hotel?

Nifty: Not really!

Lucifer: So?? What is it???

Nifty: Have you been outside at all, Mr. King?

Lucifer: Well no. We've been holled up all day doing this-

He vaguely gestures to the mess of his office.

Lucifer: And I put up a sound barrier so we wouldn't get distracted. I've also turned off my phone sooooooooOHHHH my god!

What the shit?? 666 missed calls??? Most of them are from Charlie.

Nifty: Said that no one could reach you. The others are trying to calm the panic cause most of the icky demons went straight into the hotel. I wanted to stab them but Miss Charlie told me to just come here and get you!

Probably to prevent bloodshed. His daughter is so smart but-

Lucifer: What actually is happening, Nifty?

Nifty: Oh! The sky is falling!

-----------------------------------------------

Sorry if it's a bit short but I just wanted to write AdamsApple banter and a bit of introspective.

Also, is that a chicken little reference???

Kudos to you if you saw that Spring Broken reference (arguably my fave Helluva Boss episode all because of the creative insults)

[generic-sonic-fan]

The Weak Link

"And what if Agent Shadow turns rogue, commander?"

"We have contingencies, Mr. President. I assure you." The GUN commander steepled his hands on his desk. "In this case, we have collateral."

"What did he offer?"

"Not what he offered but what he has. Something we can take away to discourage any bad behavior."

"Agent Rouge?"

"What?" The commander blinked.

"She's not, you know, powered. That's the reason you have her assigned to him, isn't it? To build that bond?"

"No. No. Rouge is our most competent agent. She is as much, if not more of a threat if she turns rogue than Shadow. Her ability to gather intelligence is second to none on this planet, and there's hundreds of bad actors who would do anything to get ahold of her. We're lucky we got to her first. Do not forget that."

"And is she loyal?"

"No matter. We have the money to keep her, and if that fails. . . we can utilize the same collateral that we do with agent Shadow."

"And what is that?"

The commander pulled up the picture and turned the monitor around.

The president furrowed his brow. "The E-series unit?"

"Yes. As uncanny as it may seem, Agent Shadow and Agent Rouge have repeatedly proven that they are willing to put their lives on the line for this thing." The commander explained. "They consider it one of their closest friends. Family, even. That last part is not an exaggeration; I personally approved of the exception to equipment check-out procedures so that they could bring it to their place of residence."

"They keep it in their house?"

"Their apartment, yes."

"Is that wise?"

"I had a similar discussion with your predecessor about Shadow. I assure you, if I had any concerns, I would not have permitted it."

"Furthermore, Commander- I admit my knowledge of the unit's capabilities is more limited than yours, but how could you consider it 'collateral'? It's arguably just as destructive as Agent Shadow. Attempting to capture it and use it as leverage would leave just as many men dead, wouldn't it?"

The commander smiled. "Actually, the two differ greatly. While Shadow wields the highly unpredictable and infinitely scalable power of the Chaos Emeralds, Omega wields purely conventional weaponry."

"He's more heavily armed than some of my warships. I fail to see your point."

"We've been combating robots for years, Mr. President. Our evaluations show a number of glaring weaknesses in E-123's defense. EMPs, to give the most obvious example."

"There's a reason we don't utilize such devices against Robotnik. The damage to civilian infrastructure is-"

"If Agent Shadow or Agent Rouge go rogue, restoration of the power grid will be the least of our worries." The commander glared.

"I don't doubt your expertise. And I've read the full file on the most recent ARK excursions. I'm aware of what Shadow could do if he decides to turn against humanity again."

"Good. In any case, I have my personal team working on more localized EMP weaponry. While it won't be effective on the most recent generation of Robotnik war machines, E-123 will become more susceptible as his hardware ages."

"His, commander?"

The commander shook his head. "Force of habit. The unit gets rather . . . irate, if you refer to it as an 'it'."

"If you can't control its anger, are you sure you'll be able to control it in the thick of an emergency?"

"It's about choosing your battles, Mr. President. Placating the quirks of its programming in peace time prevents unnecessary incident reports ending up on my desk. But when the time comes, I assure you we will be ready to act."

"Good. I'm glad." The president gave a small smile. "To move on- what about our contingencies for Sonic the Hedgehog?"

The commander's expression dropped. "Well, ahem, you see, we are still working on that."

"I heard you told my predecessor that."

"Has anyone gotten you coffee yet, Mr. President? Let me go get some, sometime my secretary forgets. . ."

[justatalkingface]

I am amazed

That the Todoroki family is as functional and well put together as it is, I really am. This isn't me going, 'they shouldn't want him back!', btw... though I do still think that, for the record. It's more that they go through all that, and at the end of the day only Dabi goes on to not be a productive citizen.

I'm... not really going anywhere with this, it's just... their dad is an abusive asshole, yeah, that's the baseline. He's rich, sure whatever. The important bit is, I think, is that he's a hero, and you have to remember that in that MHA context: a hero, in MHA, is more than just a celebrity, more than just a public servant. The only way I can really put it is like this; in MHA, a hero is expected to hold up the sky, and so is treated as such.

In a society fracturing under the weight of overreaching government restrictions, escalating societal pressures, civil rights movements that are starting to bloom into terrorist organizations for the sheer lack of progress being made, heroes are the glue holding it all together. They are that big, that important, that beloved.

And the Todorokis were raised by, and abused by, one such hero. But he's not just a hero, oh no: he's not some down on his luck no-name barely scraping by, or struggling to manage his job, he's Endeavor, the Number Two Hero. He's second only to All Might, which might as well mean he's first among all humans. His face and image is on toys and posters, his name known to every man, woman and child in Japan, and probably by substantial amounts on other continents as well. In short, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that he, and the other top heroes, are pillars of society.

That is the man that abused them, that is the man that ruined their lives: a man who symbolizes the very society they live in.

I'll say it again: the fact that only Dabi snapped, and went on to reject their father and everything he stands for, astounds me. After driving their mother into a psychotic break, to the point she spends the rest of her life locked away, after driving their brother into suicide, everything he does to them and they just... go onto being normal people.

In my imagination, Fuyumi is... the leader of a motorcycle gang. Why? I don't know; I don't even think one could possibly exist in a society where law enforcement can come down out of the sky and casually flip an eighteen wheeler, but... still, that's my mental image for her. I think it's the sheer level of repression she has going on being released in cathartic violence and wild rampage.

Natsuo, meanwhile, I picture having a normal job, a normal life, but being just... super subversive under the surface. Maybe he hacks hero's bank accounts, maybe he joins some crazed revolutionary organization (MHA has enough of them), or is some guerilla reporter devoted to exposing heroic corruption or something; I'm not sure which, but him having that level of secrecy in his rebellion when he's outwardly the most straightforward about his anger amuses me.

For Rei? At some point, Endeavour comes to visit her, and she's the one to give him that scar on his eye.

As a treat.

And as for Shoto? In a timeline without Midoriya correction... well. I always imagined he'd go to school and become a hero, as expected. Endeavour tries to force him into his agency, but he refuses, goes his own way, does everything he can to avoid the man, even if it damages his career prospects, but above all else he refuses to bow, refuses to bend even an inch to his father.

But Endeavour refuses to leave his prized creation alone.

And then, one day, he just... snaps. Goes full Sephiroth, in fact. He snaps, kills his father before he even knows what's happening, and just kinda... wanders off, to accidently his way into becoming a feared villain, either still not emoting at all, or again like Sephiroth (or his brother), just going full in on the crazy.

And for bonus points? The last straw that drives him over the edge? Endeavour's eye getting scarred, Endeavour looking more like him, both of them marked by Rei's hand; that last, unwanted, connection to the man he hates most, laced with some of his deepest, most unresolved trauma.

[taestarii]

❣ admirer - seo moonjo

[seo moonjo x fem reader]

synopsis - moonjo knew less about his target than he thought he did

this is my first moonjo fic! it's really just a rough start to see if my audience likes this and if you do, please request! the people i write for are on my page and if you want someone that isn't there too, feel free to ask! request page here

warning! themes of stalking, swearing, and dentistry tools

"God fucking-" Y/n placed her hand over her cheek in pain.

"Is it that tooth again?" Jieun asked. "You really need to go see that dentist. He stays extra late for you, you know!"

You sighed. "I know, Ji. You know how I feel about tools and stuff, what if he uses a scapel?" You knew it was an over exaggeration, but you also knew they kept them in the office.

"Jesus, it's a toothache not a heart surgery. What a heartthrob of a dentist he is, too! He seems to like you, your living every middle-aged woman's dream." You scoffed. Jieun was being ridiculous, but you knew she was right. You needed to get your tooth checked, and he was undeniably a very attractive man. "Anyways, did you want to stop and get some drinks? There's a place around-"

"Y/n!" Moonjo's voice echoed the walkway, his steps nearing. "It's great to see you! I was hoping you would come into my office today." He seemed so collected for someone who just chased after you. "Ah, I was going to see you tomorrow, my tooth has started aching worse lately." Moonjo gave a bright smile, moonlight reflecting off his pale complexion. "I'm looking forward to seeing you, Y/n."

•

You stood outside of Moonjo's dentist office, debating whether or not to come in. Before you could turn and leave, the door opened and the receptionist walked out. "You must be Y/n! Please, come in." She opened the door and ushered you in.

"Mr. Seo told me he was expecting a beautiful lady, I just knew it was you." You gave her a smile and uttered a thank you as you went to look around. There were pictures up on a shelfshelf, one with an older lady and a bunch of little kids.

"That's me." A hand reached around and pointed at a little boy holding the older woman's hand. "That's Ms. Eom, she's a lovely lady." You snapped back to look at him, his finger his hovering over the picture. "You grew up with her? How nice that you stayed with her." Moonjo looked at you questioningly. "How did you know I live with her?" You hummed, turning away from him.

“I've been in your area before."

•

Moonjo was not a dumb man, far from it. As attracted as he was to you, your close relationship to Junghwa kept him on edge. You were layed out on the dentist chair while Moonjo applied his gloves. "Your tooth is damaged and it's gonna hurt, so I'll go get a mouth number." He gave you a smile before he walked into the back room.

Moonjo may be smart, but you're smarter.

As he was back there he contemplated if he was really about to do this to you. He couldn't lose you, but he couldn't compromise his "family." He looked at you through the cameras for a few more seconds before turning off the cameras and grabbing the anesthetic. "So, Y/-"

"Hello, Mr. Seo."

You were sitting on top of a counter with your legs crossed, his red box open next to you. Scalpel in hand, you glanced up at him.

"What were you going to with that needle, Mr. Seo? If I didn't know any better, that looks like a lot more than a mouth number."

Moonjo was at a loss for words. Y/n laughed at his expression, the expression that told her everything.

"Were you going to sedate me? Perhaps take me back to that god forsaken fourth-floor and subject me to the same fate as Hee-joong? As Seok-yoon?"

"How do you..?"

"I'm far less oblivious than you believe I am, Moonjo. Did you really believe I had a toothache? What about yesterday when me and Jieun happened to be close to your office? All these things that I have done to see you.

It appears you have an admirer."

part 2

[isabelopaque]

bonnie kelly as a character makes me so crazy because shes so much more, real? than some of the other parents. it's still a comedy and everyone's actions are exaggerated but there's a sense of upsetting realism to her character compared to luthers genuinely frightening front or franks behaviors in episodes. she genuinely cares for joyce and it isn't fake or to get something from her but it's so manipulative and unhealthy in it's existence of sweetness. i genuinely don't believe she's not an evil person or purposefully manipulative, i think shes a really damaged person but the consequences of such are so much more evident. she cares for her kid in the way none of the other parents in the show do but also puts joyce into this caretaker role instead of taking accountability. she had not much of a choice in some of the ways she raised joyce, having to do work to survive and thus leaving her with her brother due to shelley not being around, but it's like shes stuck in that time period still of not acknowledging anything being wrong with the situation at hand but joyce is growing older and older and things have already clicked into place for her on her childhood and some of the stuff she went through.

she's unstable and it isn't her fault, but in acting like she does it puts joyce in such an awkward situation. she doesn't want to leave philly in case something hapens, but she can't go home because her mother won't stop inviting over her uncle who she begged her mother to see had hurt her and she couldn't do it. her sisters abandoned the family as soon as they could, taking up jobs not unlike their mother did, and joyce can't really blame them for doing so but now is left entirely with the responsibility of the family and nothing to say for it. she didn't have anyone else besides her mom as a kid besides mac, none of the other parents cared so she had to take care of herself and her mom growing up but she doesn't hate her for it, because at least her mom stuck around.

i think in recent seasons especially post s15 finale, joyce has started like. letting herself realize how messed up her family situation is, not as a joke, or as a comment offhandedly. her dad is dead, and all she has left if her immediate family so she heads back home in grief.

going to her moms house literally resulted in pulled teeth and blood on the kitchen table. bonnie hurts herself, physically, a repentance or distraction or victimization of herself for joyce's sake instead of apologizing or fixing the situation at hand and it's such a visual look into their family dynamic. bonnie wants s much to keep this image of herself as a good mother to her little charlie that in the process she doesn't even treat her like a real person. they go to the kelly house and she's putting on a birthday party for jack but joyce didn't even remember how old she was, never getting parties or big celebrations from her mother and the ensuing scene of joyce slamming the phone over and over is so painful? like certainly in the show she's gotten mad at her mom before but there's this genuine rage at the situation, before having to inevitably take care of her mom and apologize, holding the rag to her bloody mouth. it's such a literal picture of the continous cycle of violence in the home but not actually fixing any of the issues at hand

[bbgem329]

Things Are Never As They Seem—Chapter Twenty Four

Pairings—Sebastian Stan x Actress!Reader, Sebastian Stan x OFC (PR relationship)

Summary

You and Sebastian Stan have been dating privately for over two years. Everything is perfect until he is coerced into a PR relationship when he signed with a new agency to advance his career. Trouble ensues…

Warnings

MINORS DNI!! 18++. Language. Angst. Fluff. Hollywood is shit. PR relationships. Spoiled brats. Mentions of bullying. Did I miss anything?

Series Masterlist

—————

May 12, 2021

You practically jumped, completely started, by the sound of the front door slamming. You slid your bookmark into place and leaned forward to set it on the coffee table as heavy steps stomped down the hall towards you.

You very well knew who it was and by the sound of it, they weren’t very happy.

Not at all.

There was barely any time to move your feet before your boyfriend was falling forward over the armrest, his face landing unceremoniously in your lap and his feet hanging over the edge, with a drawn out groan.

“That bud, huh?”

All you got in response was another muffled groan.

You bit your lip, biting back a laugh as your fingers weaved through his ink black hair, “Was the food good at least?”

“Mhmm.”

“Seb.” You rolled your eyes a little, huffing out a little chuckle. “I can’t read your mind. You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

He lifted his head, “Just give me a minute. Let me lay here for a second and enjoy this.”

You laughed openly this time, fingers continuing their work on his scalp. “Fine. Only a minute though.”

He’d just come from having lunch with Catalina and of course it was a whole, big ordeal. His team hired a group of girls to take a few pictures of them from a few tables over and post them on twitter. The random sightings tended to do better and look more believable than a pap walk.

They really couldn’t seem to fake it or make it look even remotely real when it came to staged photos.

And by they—you meant Sebastian.

It was best to keep it blurry and somewhat candid.

And only one instead of the fifty a walk would produce.

It would save everyone involved a headache worth of embarrassment.

So he’d been required to sit through an entire meal with her. You couldn’t imagine that was very fun, especially not since she was more than a little pissed at him for attending your premiere.

The last two days had been filled with nothing but damage control for Sebastian and his team. Not only had fans absolutely freaked out (in the best way) over his surprise appearance on the carpet but now there were even more rumors flying about your relationship with him after a few leaked photos.

The photos weren’t anything too crazy.

You’d simply posed for a few shots together, some alone and some with a couple other friends, and they’d caught a shared smile. It wasn’t anything intimate—you weren’t kissing or even being overly touchy but you had to admit the way he was looking at you in a few of the pictures…

Let's just say Catalina wasn’t happy.

Not at all.

And fans definitely were on the ball with some of the rumors floating around.

You had no idea his fans would ship you together that hard but it was all they were talking about.

Hence the absolute need for damage control.

They had lunch today. Sebastian commented on another one of her black and white photos yesterday. And you were sure there would be more tomorrow.

“I’m just so tired of this shit.”

You chewed on your lip, watching him closely as he rolled over, finally ready to talked apparently.

“She’s so annoying.” He jutted his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, “Being alone with her is the absolute worst.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile, combing his hair back from his face, “I know.”

“I got quite the lecture today.”

You frowned, eyebrows furrowing, “From her?”

He shook his head, reaching out to grab your free hand in his, pulling it to his lips to kiss your knuckles, “Well, she bitched the entire meal but I meant my team.”

You rolled your eyes, “What now?”

It was the same conversations over and over.

You understand they were in a bind when it came to Catalina. They were just doing their jobs, trying to make everyone happy and appease the spoiled brat at the same time. You can’t imagine it was an easy feat but they didn’t have to always lay into Sebastian.

They didn’t need to always demand he give something up.

Compromise went both ways.

You were sick and tired of Catalina getting her way.

His eyes scanned over your face for a moment, hesitating, “She’s making more demands.”

That didn’t really answer your question and you definitely didn’t like the sound of that.

You shifted uneasily, chest growing tighter with each breath, “Like what?”

He pursed his lips, so much guilt and remorse swirling in those cerulean eyes it made you feel sick. The way he was dragging it out, obviously reluctant to tell you made you anxious beyond words.

You knew whatever it was, you weren’t going to like it. Not one bit.

“Just spit it out.” You snapped, louder than you intended to.

“She is demanding more time here. A few times a week.”

You inhaled sharply, your heart felt like it was trying to claw its way up your throat.

Sebastian sat up, turning to face you on his knees so he could take your face in his hands, “I’m trying to work something out. I’m so sorry.”

Of course.

Of fucking course she was using this to her advantage. She’d been patiently waiting for something to dangle over his head—some sort of leverage to get back into your space and back under your skin.

You shook your head. More to yourself than anyone else.

Catalina was going to stop at nothing to make your life a living hell for the duration of this contract.

The thought of her remaining under the same roof, even if just for a few nights, made you feel physically ill. You already had bile crawling up your throat from just the idea alone, you can’t even begin to imagine what kind of shape you would be in when she was actually here.

“Baby.”

You blinked, eyes finally focusing on the man before you.

Why were you so panicked? Why did you allow her to have this much of an affect on you—this much power over you and your emotions?

Sebastian called your name, voice soft and low, “I’m trying to work it out. There is a lot of discussion and I won’t go down on this without a fight.”

“Sebastian.”

“I know.” He dipped forward to press a kiss to your forehead while simultaneously pulling you into his chest, “I know. I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you about the premiere. I should’ve been more careful and kept my distance–”

“Seb.”

“But I don’t regret it, sweetheart.” He ignored you, rambling as he combed his fingers through your hair and held you against him, “I’m so fucking thankful I got to be part of that for you. That I got to stand by your side and pose with you… I’ve always wanted that—Always wanted you right by my side, holding my hand at premieres and…” He paused, pressing a quick kiss to your head, “And I love that my fans ship us. This is going to make things so much easier when we decide to go public–”

You smiled, wrapping your arms tighter around his torso and burrowing your face against his rapidly beating heart. There was no interrupting this rambling rampage so you might as well buckle up for the ride and enjoy while you can.

“They love us, baby.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. “They’ve been leaving comments all over social media about how perfect we’d be together and there is massive speculation about us dating in secret. It’s kinda insane. But I love it”

As much as you loathe to admit, you felt the same way.

Honestly, the love and support around your relationship was thrilling and it made you feel like you’d stuck it to her in a way. Like you’d won this round of whatever game she had started between the two of you.

You didn’t even have to try and his fans liked you better. They would always like you better.

You were better.

At acting. At relationships. At being a good person.

It wasn’t necessarily good thinking. You didn’t want to be that person—you hated that she brought out this side of you. It wasn’t nice and it brought you down to her level in the worst way.

“I’m happy that they seem to accept our relationship…”

“But…?” Sebastian added, tilting his head to the side with a raised brow.

“But I don’t want to tick her off anymore.” You sighed softly, “I don’t want her coming after us even more than she already is.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his thumb brushing over your cheek, “I know.”

You let out a heavy sigh, shifting closer to him and wrapping your arms over his shoulders, “I just wish this was over already.”

“Me too.” He mumbled, pressing his face into the top of your head as weaved his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as he sat back, “I’m sorry. I’m really trying to keep the peace—to keep her away from you.”

“It’s not your fault.” You said softly, voice a little muffled by his shirt. “We will do what we have to do to finish this and get it over with. I can suck it up for a little bit.”

He was quiet for a moment, fingers stroking through your hair, “They said if she were to stay here a couple times a week, they would have a couple other people stay with us so we wouldn’t have to be alone with her.”

“Okay.” Was all you could respond with–all you could offer at the moment.

“Okay?” He squinted at you, “Just okay?”

You didn’t necessarily want this but if it made things easier on him, you would do it.

You would put up with her for the next seven months.

Until the end.

You nodded, “Yes. Okay.”

—————

May 16, 2021

Focus on the page.

Words.

Words.

Read the fucking words.

“You’ve read the page like fifty times now.”

Your head snapped up to Sebastian sitting on a couch across from you, a glare already hardened across your face.

“I thought you liked that book.”

Before you could respond the timer you’d set on your phone went off.

You let out a huff, setting the book aside to remove the ice from your ankle but he beat you too. Placing it on the other end of the table before gently stapping your foot back in the walking boot.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, “And you’re the one distracting me from my book. You and that damn drum stick.”

He threw his head back with a laugh, the sound making your belly flutter.

“I’m just trying to practice.” He breathed out, still laughing a little, “I am trying to take a cool video and post it.”

“What do you mean you need practice?” You giggled, waving a hand at him, “You’ve nailed it. It’s so distracting!”

He smirked, “Why?”

And then he started twirling the damn stick between his fingers again.

Effortlessly too, you might add.

“You know why.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t actually.”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to smirk any harder but you were wrong and his lips corked even higher in the corners.

You were going to punch that stupid, sexy smirk right off his face.

You felt your cheeks flame a little as you continued to watch him, his eyes growing hooded and tongue slipping out to skim his bottom lip in a very, very suggestive manner.

He knew what he was doing to you. He knew a little too well.

You snatched a pillow off the couch beside you and launched it full force at him. “Oh, fuck off.” You laughed, “You damn well know you’re hot and that you’re good with your fingers.”

“Oh, I know I’m good with my fingers, sweetheart.” He chuckled darkly, “The way you were moaning my name last night supports that–”

That earned him another pillow to the face, unfortunately he caught it before it made impact this time and threw it right back at you.

“I told you to never bring that up again.” You leaned forward to burrow your face in the pillow, hiding the red creeping over your cheeks.

You’d gotten a little loud last night and by a little, you meant Eli had literally banged on the door, hollering at you both to quiet down and then Sebastian had woken to a text from his manager stating that Catalina had complained about it too.

You were embarrassed.

Sebastian was smug.

And you’d been hiding out in the bedroom for most of the day.

Mostly to avoid Eli and Molly, you really couldn’t give a fuck about Catalina.

In fact, maybe it would help get through her thick head that Sebastian wasn’t interested and he was with you.

“Baby.” He rose from his seat and walked around the coffee table before crouching down in front of you, taking your face in his hands, “I promise you Eli doesn’t care. He hasn’t even said a word to me since.”

You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout, “That’s almost worse.”

He laughed, leaning forward to press a kiss to your pouty lips. “I promise everything is fine. Everyone in this house knows we have sex.”

“If they didn’t before, they do now.”

He laughed again, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “But wasn’t it worth it?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips even if you tried, “Maybe.”

Sebastian grinned, all smug and sexy, “It definitely was.”

“Mhmm.” You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his.

“Admit it.” He whispered, cupping the back of your head, “Admit it was worth it.”

Your lips barely skimmed his, teasingly, “It was worth it”

He gripped the back of your head and finally connected your lips to his in a hard, desperate kiss. One you reciprocated wholeheartedly, arching up into him as your arms wrapped over his shoulders. Before you even knew what was happening he was pulling you up and tugging your legs around his waist. You clung to him as he plopped back on the couch with you in his lap and deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You openly moaned when his tongue tangled with yours and his hands slid down to cup your ass, kneading the flesh through your thin cotton shorts.

Your fingers tangled in his hair and you shifted your hips forward, grinding yourself against the growing bulge at the apex of your thighs, “Sebastia–”

The door swung open, smacking loudly against the wall.

You scrambled off Sebastian’s lap, fumbling with your hair and tucking your breast back into your tank top.

You shook your head to yourself, you hadn’t even realized that had fallen out.

“Sebbbyyyy.”

Your heart dropped into you gut as you looked up to find Catalina stomping toward you.

“What the actual fuck.” Sebastian hissed, rising from the couch, his hands held out on either side of him, “You can’t just barge in here. Have you ever heard of knocking?”

Catalina shrugged, completely ignoring your presence, her eyes immediately zeroing in on the obvious bulge in his black shorts, “I texted you I was coming in.”

He followed her line of sight, immediately reaching up to snatch the pillow off the couch and hold it over his crotch, “That’s not how it fucking works. Get the fuck out, dude.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “I’m not a dude.”

“Oh my God.” He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked up at the ceiling, his eyes clenched shut, “What the fuck do you want?”

You pulled your legs up to your chest and then pulled the blanket over your shoulders, suddenly feeling very exposed and raw.

This was one of your new problems since she’d started staying here. Catalina didn’t know or understand the term boundaries.

Or she just didn’t give a flying fuck about respecting them.

You were sure it was the latter.

“Two things,” She plopped down on the couch across from you, making herself at home, “When are you going to post your video? They said I could comment on it.” She leaned forward, stealing a strawberry from your bowl of fruit and you had to resist smacking her hand away and maybe her plastic face too, “And why aren’t you going to award thing tonight? Everyone is talking about how your friend Andew is going.” She crossed her arms over her chest, “Why are we not going, Sebby?”

“His name is Anthony.” You spoke up, tone harsher than you intended it to be, “Not Andrew.”

Finally she looked at you for the first time since rudely barging into your room and if looks could kill there was no doubt you’d be six feet under, “Was I asking you? No.”

“Do not speak to her like that.” Sebastian snapped, he took a hold of her elbow and gently pulled her from the couch, “You need to leave. They way you barged in here was inappropriate and if it happens again, you won’t be allowed to stay here any longer.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She whined, yanking her arm from his hold and crossing her arms over her chest with a dramatic stomp of her foot. “I’m not leaving until you answer.”

You watched with a baited breath as Sebastian stormed over, grabbing his phone from the coffee table. He typed at the screen, his frustration evident in the clench of jaw. “There.” He tossed the phone back on the couch, took her elbow again, guiding her towards the door, “I posted the fucking video, go comment to your hearts content.”

“But what about the award–”

“We don’t do red carpet events, Catalina.” He grit out through clenched teeth, “It’s in the contract. So even if I went, you wouldn’t have gone with me anyways.” He paused, breathing heavily, “You will not attend any events with me, ever.”

You’re sure he didn’t mean it as harshly as it had come out. Or maybe he did.

She needed harsh if you were being honest. She really couldn’t take no for an answer and needed it spelled out for her more times than not.

“It’s good press.” She hissed, stopping at the door, “For both of us.”

“No, it’s not.” He gave her a gentle push into the hallway, holding the door so she couldn’t slop back in, “And I have an early shooting tomorrow and didn’t feel like going, not that I owe you any explanation. You don’t get to be a part of my life, Catalina. I do the stunts and show up when I’m needed. I’ve told you I don’t want to interact outside of that and you need to respect that decision. If you need something or have questions, go through my team.”

With that he slammed the door shut in her face and locked it.

“You okay?” You asked softly as he approached.

He fell back on the couch beside you with a heavy sigh, “Are you?”

You shifted, crawling into his lap, “I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, reaching up to run his knuckles across your cheek, no doubt noticing the unnatural flush there, “I should’ve locked the door. I didn’t think she’d do that.”

You shook your head, “It’s not your fault.”

“This is going to be a long summer, isn’t it?”

You chuckled a little, wrapping your arms around his neck and sliding back in the position you were in before you were rudely interrupted, “Probably but at least we have each other.”

“Mmmm.” His nose brushed against yours, breath hot on your lips, “Should we talk about his more?”

You nodded a little, eyes fluttering as his hands found home on your ass, “Maybe later.”

“Okay.”

He crushed your lips to his and you picked up right where you left off.

Everything Catalina could wait.

—————

Taglist

@justlovelifeblog @inlovewith3 @buckybarnesandmarvel @sleutherclaw @snugglingbucky @perlaluna @littlewhiterose

@idontwannagomrstarkk @abihaaa14 @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @sebsgirl71479 @getofffmydick @eccentricnos @barnesml @aira1995 @sweetwritingfanficfriend @dhoruwolfie @unaxv @nerdytif

[spinchip]

NEVER THE DARK

CHAPTER 13

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

!WARNING: refrences to ancient, non graphic child loss!

NO ONE HAS EVER BEEN LOST. // ALL IS TRUTH AND WAY.

“Gravis, Griffin, and I just arrived on scene, Pix.” Skylors voice crackles through her radio, “The civilian reports weren’t exaggerating- there’s a giant, er, slug-like animal here. In fact, ‘giant’ might even be an understatement.” Her girlfriend sounds openly bewildered.

Pix frowns, “Is it hostile?”

“Not on purpose. It keeps picking up cars and uprooting traffic lights, but it doesn't seem aware it’s doing it. It’s just bumping into things and they’re sticking.” Skylor reports, “The trail of slime it’s leaving is smoking, though, but it doesn’t look like it’s eating at the road.”

“Have Gravis move it to a less densely populated area- out of town completely would be best if at all possible.”

“Already on it. I’ll call Warden Nobel and have him bring us another containment cell.”

Skylor was always on the ball in the field, and Pixal was grateful she was by her side, “Thank you, Sky. Can you alert Commissioner McLane to the possible hazardous materials and have him block off the street until we can have Tox examine it?”

“I’ll send speedster over now.”

At Skylors affirmative, Pixal sets her radio to the side and continues looking through her extensive set of videos pulled from all over Ninjago city. She trusted her father had done what he could to get a hit on Dixie with his facial recognition software, but she wanted to be extra certain she couldn’t find the other woman the same way. She’d started with the cameras around the museum in an attempt to find the escape route the other thief had taken after defeating the ninja, but had come up with nothing. Despite having the technology to feed these videos into and get results in a matter of seconds, Pixal chose to go through the cameras with her own eyes. Her pattern and facial recognition was leagues above any of the market value programs, and if anyone was going to catch the woman’s face in the background of a walmart CCTV feed it would be her. The woman was incredibly skilled at avoiding cameras, apparently, because Pixal was coming up with nothing, nothing, and more nothing. She even had video archives open from years and years ago, hoping to comb through them all and find a facial match for her, to at least give her something to go off of. No luck there, either.

The last set of camera feeds on her upper set of screens is current security footage from several different vantage points throughout Ninjago- these weren’t monitoring for the thief. She’d tapped these in order to monitor the streets of Ninjago which were quickly becoming overrun with monsters she’d never seen before. The slug incident today was the latest in a long line of beasts that seemed to just… appear and begin wrecking havoc. The other elemental masters had been up to their ears in emergency situations, evacuations, and damage control. Today, it was a slug, a skittering weevil-like creature that crashed into several storefronts before dying in downtown Ninjago with no warning, and a flock of birds with bony protrusions on their back and acid spit. The past week has been much the same.

It was sheer good luck that Kryptarium prisons' deeper, more fortified cells were able to contain these animals.

As Pixal flicks through the camera feeds, there’s a familiar chime from her phone. She snatches it up and punches the answer button before the second ring, “Ronin.” She greets briskly, keeping her eyes on the screen as she leans back and crosses her arms.

“You called?” He drawls through the phone, and she can clearly envision him leaned back with his feet propped upon his desk. The very picture of relaxed.

“I need you in Ninjago yesterday. Your expertise is required.” She says immediately, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“Yeah, Yeah, I got your voicemail.” There’s a shuffle on his end, as if he’ sitting up in interest at the topic, “What’s in it for me?”

“You will have a hand in saving Ninjago.” She says flatly. He makes a noncommittal grunt and she barely resists rolling her eyes, “Fine.” She slaps her keyboard and pulls up his criminal record, “You have three unpaid fines here that have put out a warrant for your arrest for- really? Those are huge fines for… illegal parking?”

“I know!”

“Consider them paid off… if you come to Borg tower.” She bargains.

There’s another grunt, this time a winded cough of exertion as he gets to his feet. “What do you need me for anyway?” He grumbles, yawning into the phone.

Pixal slumps a little, “There is a new villain in town- he is working with bounty hunters. I need your help identifying one of the girls working for him.”

“You know not every bounty hunter knows each other, right?”

“I am aware that you and her have spent several years in this profession at the same time.” She says coolly, “If anyone were to know her, it would be you. Will you come?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming to Borg tower. It’ll be a few hours.” She hears the jangle of keys on the other line, “Don’t forget to take care of my fines.”

With one hand, Pixal infiltrates the police database and erases the marks off his criminal record entirely. There was no hint that he’d ever so much as looked at an illegal parking space. It takes ten seconds at most,  “Done.” She says simply, and hangs up the phone.

Another hour of nothing passes by, with a brief update from Skylor about the slug and no further activity on the cameras to be concerned about. She checks her email a few times and shoots Wu another text that he doesn’t respond to- he’d gone out to Misakos current archeological dig site to discuss the gauntlet with her, and was completely off the grid because of it. Or he was ignoring her texts. Pixal has a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that he was hiding something, but there’s no proof other than her gut feeling. She wouldn't start anything over a bad vibe.

She does another useless search for the gauntlet and once again comes up empty- there was nothing about the artifact on the internet or in any digitized academic databases she checked. There were mentions of gauntlets or sets of armor, but nothing that matched up with the powers they’d seen so far. The longer Wu went without checking in, the more certain Pixal became that he’d hit a wall too. All Misakos encyclopedic history knowledge, and even she hadn't heard of this thing… Where were they supposed to go from here?

She’s so lost in thought that the sudden screech of the red panic alarm above her head causes her to launch up out of her chair and to her feet, staggering with the surge of pseudo-adrenaline that floods her processor. She scrambles for her radio and flips it to the correct frequency just in time to hear Dareth's panicked voice shouting from the line, “-taking him to the roof!”

“Dareth! What’s going on?” Pixal demands, reaching out and turning off the alarm with the keypad next to the wall before taking off towards the elevator.

“The thief is back, and she’s stealing your father!” Dareth wails through the radio.

Pixal punches the elevator call button four times in a panic despite the fact the extra pushes won’t will it to get here any faster. This is exactly why she advocated for stairs in the ninja's private penthouse- a project the others continually put off. (“We can just jump out the window and airjitzu down. No big deal!” Well what about if you need to go up!) Stupid! “What?” She demands, squeezing through the elevator doors before they’ve fully opened.

“I’ll explain later- right now you need to get to the roof!” He says urgently, his cartoony voice uncharacteristically serious.

“I am headed that way now. I will meet you there-”

“Sorry, Pix, but you’re on your own here.” His voice comes through with a wince, “I’m down for the count.”

She feels a cold chill sweep over her body, “Are you okay?”

“I’m not dying. Get to the roof, save your father, and we’ll worry about me later.” His voice comes through firm and gentle- there’d been a time where Pixal had written Dareth off as someone she’d always need to protect, but moments like this remind Pixal that Dareth was steady and solid. He’d been training ever since her Father asked him to stay by his side, his skills had grown and he’d become a formidable opponent. It had to have been someone strong to put him down- and he definitely didn't get benched without putting up a fight.

She had to be ready when these doors opened.

“Call Skylor.” She orders, the act of taking control offering her a calm she desperately needed, “She was on her way back to the tower, she can get to you quicker than I can. Do not die.”

“Ten-four, Boss.”

There’s no more time to talk. The elevator doors open up to the roof with a ding! And immediately Pixal is assaulted by whipping wind and the loud roar of helicopter blades slicing the air into pieces. She rushes out onto the tarmac, sprinting straight for the group of people loading her struggling father into the helicopter. Standing out from the black clad ensemble is a shock of bright pink hair. The thief, the woman who took her friends away, looks back at her with a bored, neutral expression. Pixels coolant feels like it’s boiling. The other woman turns towards another member of her crew and says something Pixal can’t hear through all the noise and motions to the sky as if to say shoo!

Then, without a second of hesitation, she spins around and charges at Pixal in return. She’s fast, putting a significant amount of space between Pixal and her father when the two women meet in a clash of fists on the middle of the roof. Pixal has to keep her head on straight, but she can feel her calm, controlled mask rapidly deteriorating each time she catches a glimpse of her father getting strapped into the Helicopters back seat.

He’s looking at her with fear in his eyes, but there’s a calm reassurance there- he knows she won’t get to him in time. It’s okay, Pixal.

A pang of heartbreak bruises her power core. She feels her fighting turn vicious, jabs and punches hitting and hitting hard, until she finally slams the woman face down against the roof. She whips out a set of cuffs from her jumpsuit and slaps them on her wrists- They activate with a hum and Pixal jabs the power button frantically. The cuff link beeps and Pixal slams the woman's wrists down on the rooftop beneath her, the cuffs latching onto the roof and rendering her immobile.

Pixal leaps to her feet and spins around- the helicopter is off the roof, probably has been for a while, and it’s flying across Ninjago faster than Pixal could feasibly catch. She’d have to race down the stairs to the sub basement, gear up, and then give chase- they’d be gone by then. They were already gone.

Her chest feels like it’s caving in. Why? Why can’t she save the people she loves? Why is she always on the sidelines, just a second too late?

Pull yourself together. She takes a deep, shuddering breath just to move air through her circuits. The thick smell of asphalt brings her mind back to the current issue- she turns around to find the thief still cuffed to the roof, her mouth and nose covered with blood and that infuriating bored expression on her face.

A ringing fills Pixal head and she feels disconnected from her body, pushing away her despair so hard she distances herself from her own processor.

Pixal hauls her up and takes her down the stairs to the ninjas level, not caring when she stumbles to keep up with Pixals rapid pace. She can’t care about anything right now. They rarely use the actual interrogation room, but Pixal fishes out the key for it now. On one side is the classic one-way glass and a few metal chairs seated at a metal table securely fastened to the floor. Pixal uncuffs the restrictive suppression bonds and switches them out for classic metal cuffs, weaving the chain through another padlock and chain attached to the table so she doesn’t get any funny ideas. She’s moving on autopilot, clicking locks together with practiced, robotic movements. She has to keep herself together, everyone is relying on her. Once she’s secure, Pixal washes her hands. After that she politely hands her a box of tissues so she can mop up her bloody face and gets her a glass of water and an ice pack.

She doesn’t say anything to the thief, who matches her silence quietly. Pixal observes her behind the one-way glass for several long minutes.

The bubble around her pops, and reality rushes back in. She sucks in a sharp breath and turns away, whipping her radio out and hitting the button frantically, “Dareth?” She questions. No response, “Dareth, status report.”

A long pause.

The radio crackles, “He’s alright, Pix.” Skylor’s voice comes through from Dareths radio, “He’s with the medic now. A few broken bones, but nothing life threatening.”

Pixal closes her eyes and presses the radio to her forehead, relief so deep she can almost feel it in her circuits. “Stay with him, please, and ask him what happened once he is cleared for visitors.” She glances over at the pink haired woman, who looks completely at ease as she balls up a blood soaked tissue and sets it on a clean tissue to avoid getting blood on the table top, “I caught our mystery thief from the museum break in.” Two mismatched eyes glance up and seem to meet Pixals green ones before skating away to look around the empty room, “I’m going to see what I can find out.”

The woman smiles serenely and settles back, unconcerned.

“Good luck. Call me if you need me, okay?”

“I will.”

The room is still deafeningly quiet when Pixal goes back inside. The click of the door closing behind her feels harsh on her audio processor. It’s sterile, with gray floors and white walls and fluorescent lights strung across the ceiling. Pixal sits at one of the available chairs on the other side of the table,  “My name is Pixal borg. I have a few questions for you.”

The woman smiles wider.

“Hello, Miss Borg. Ask whatever you like.”

She spends the next hour asking questions to a brick wall. The thief is listening and attentive to every one of Pixar’s words, but at the end of each question or statement is pointed and resolute silence. She doesn’t rise to any bait Pixal sets out- she doesn’t get angry or scoff when Pixal slips in subtle insults, she doesn’t preen over praise, she doesn’t even look tired or annoyed as the questioning continues on and on. She’s the picture perfect image of poise, and Pixal can’t gain an inch.

Her phone rings at the hour and fifteen minute mark. She answers it with a palpable relief to have something else to do other than fail at questioning her only lead about this kidnapping, “Pixal speaking.” She greets briskly, stepping out of the room and rolling imaginary soreness from her shoulders.

“What’s with all the blood on the roof?” Ronin asks curiously.

Pixal winces- she’d handed out a few good left hooks during their scuffle, “The thief I needed you to identify made an appearance today. I caught her.”

“Damn, did you break her nose or something?”

“Her employer kidnapped my father.” She reveals bluntly.

Ronin sucks a hiss of air through his teeth at that, “…Okay, well, send me up the elevator and I’ll come down.”

Pixal calls the elevator and once it arrives she steps inside and rides it back up to the roof. She’s beginning to hate this thing. She clicks her radio just to be doing something, “Any news, Sky?”

“Dareth is sleeping off anesthesia right now, sorry.”

“Thank you. Ronin has just arrived, I believe he will be able to help.”

“Keep me updated.” Skylor says pointedly.

“I will.” Pixal holsters her radio, staring at the closed doors in front of her. She felt so useless- she couldn’t get a peep out of either of their two leads, she was stuck inside doing futile research while random monsters were running wild through Ninjago, and she couldn’t stop her father from getting kidnapped from right under her nose.

The doors open to Ronin leaning casually against the wall waiting for it. He whistles low, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, “You look like shit.” Are the first words out of his mouth.

“It has been a rough week.” She says tightly.

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Get in the elevator.”

He obliges and she takes them back down to the Ninjas floor, filing him in on the situation as they ride down. He’s rubbing his scruff in thought as the doors open up and they step out, thinking hard, “There are two possible options I’m thinking of, Maybe Milena or Raven. Both of them color their hair regularly, and they’re sloppy enough to get caught like that.” He muses, “I’ve never heard of a Dixie Samson though, which makes sense if she’s a rookie.”

Pixal heads straight towards the interrogation room, feeling an inkling of dread- part of her is convinced the woman would have vanished in the time it took her to bring Ronin back here. She feels a line of tension leave her shoulders when she walks back inside to see her still sitting there casually on the other side of the glass.

Ronin stops dead in his tracks, “By the first master- You have got to be kidding me.” He groans, reaching up to run a hand down his face. He looks back up at the woman and does a full body wince.

“Do you know her?” Pixal cant help the amused curve of her lips at Ronins dramatics.

“Do I know her…” He grumbles darkly, dragging his feet up to the window, “She’s my ex sister in law.”

Pixals checklist of questions on the woman is immediately derailed in surprise, “You were married?”

“Everyone makes mistakes.” He defends.

“Who would agree to- no, it is not important right now. What can you tell me about her?”

“I can tell you she’s only in those cuffs because she wants to be.” He grimaces, “Her name is Stella and I doubt there's a set of restraints good enough to hold her short of strapping her down like Hannibal Lecter, and I’m skeptical if even that would work. If she’s still here, she has ulterior motives. She wants something from you, or she wants something in this building.”

“She already took everything.” Pixal barely resists baring her teeth. She sighs, “I need to get information from her.”

“Sorry, but you’re out of luck there. I can promise you she won't speak a word of her employer. You couldn’t waterboard info out of her if she doesn’t want to tell you.” He delivers the bad news bluntly.

“So this is another dead end.”

“Not exactly.” Ronin crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the glass, “Stella isn’t cheap to hire and if we throw in who exactly she’s dealing with- Borg, the ninja, you- that’ll only make this job that much more expensive. So we can confidently narrow down her employer to Ninjagos one percent.” He grins at Pixals shocked expression, “She does damn good work- the best work- but it’ll cost ya. That big paycheck is what ensures her loyalty. As long as her employer is supplementing her bank account, her lips are sealed- even in the face of torture.”

“She’s all about money…” Pixal turns that over in her mind, looking for the piece she needs to unravel Stella's loyalty.

Ronin shrugs, “All mercenaries are, Stella just has the status and reputation to be bought out by the richest of the rich. With that amount of cash backing her up, You wouldn't be able to even threaten anything out of her.”

Pixal holds up her hand, stopping Ronins words as she carefully considers his words. “I don’t need to threaten her.” As if she’d had an epiphany, Pixal immediately takes off around the corner. Ronin ends up scrambling after her, Following her into Stella's interrogation room just barely before the door closes.

Stella looks relaxed and unconcerned, that same bored expression she's always wearing on her face. She’s got her chair kicked back and her feet on the table, her cuffed hands folded over her belly as she observed them come inside. She raises a brow at Ronin and opens her mouth to speak but Pixal beats her to it.

Pixal yanks out a leather wallet from her jumpsuit and grabs a pen from her from breast pocket, “I am aware you will not speak against your employer, and I am also aware he is paying you a lot of money to keep his secrets.” She sits down in front of Stella, slamming her pocket book and pen to the table, “But I’m Pixal fucking Borg.”

She opens the book and pulls out a stack of checks, signing one and sliding it across the table blank, “Are you interested in new employment?”

Heartbeats pass. Ronin is staring at the check so hard Pixals half sure his eyes are about to pop out of his head, but Stella looks as cool and collected as ever. If Pixal had to breathe she’d be holding it, praying that the gamble works. Stella carefully takes each foot off the table and sits up straight, scooting her chair forward and resting her elbows on the table. She studies the check for a long moment before her lips twitch, the scar at the corner of her mouth pulling her lips into a pleased smile.

“I don’t want your money, Pixal Borg.” She gently, strangely respectfully, tears the check in half and slides the pieces across the table towards the two. Ronin makes a sound like a wounded animal at the action.

Pixals heart plummets.

“But there is something I do want.” Stella continues before Pixal can feel the full weight of failure. Stella looks at Pixal with a firm, intense furrow to her brow. “I will tell you everything I know if you do me a favor. I don’t know what or when that will be. This is what I do know: You are the most powerful woman in Ninjago, Pixal Borg, and I want you to owe me.”

“Deal.” Pixal hold out her hand for Stella to shake without a second of hesitation. Her friends, her family, her father- everyone was relying on her, and she needed this information because right now they had nothing.

But as Stella takes her hand in a firm grip, Pixal can’t help but feel like she’s made a deal with the devil.

Sella sits back, bored expression sinking over her features once more, “His name is Broden Voss, the CEO of Voss Technologies.” She gets right down to business. Pixal recognizes the name in flashes of memory- a place card at a table during a charity event, investors threats to take their money elsewhere when her fathers quarterly review is lower than expected, a flash of red hair and a shark-like smile as a towering man shakes her hand at a high brow cocktail party, “He hired me to infiltrate Ninjago Citys Museum of History after his previous hire, Dixie Samson, failed. I was tasked with finding and retrieving a gauntlet forged by one of Voss’s ancestors, a warlord by the name of Utano whose armor had mystical powers. I was paid to do whatever possible to return this gauntlet to him, and as such I used one of the abilities in the gauntlet to send the ninja to another Realm. The only other ability I've seen... I have witnessed Voss change the gauntlet configuration with a thought. Essentially shapeshifting, though I can't be certain how far that particular gift goes.

“Voss’s plan always centered around Cyrus Borg. Ever since Voss Technology was usurped as Ninjagos main technology company by Borg Industries, he’s felt cheated and wronged. Now that he has this powerful artifact, he intends on using it to tear Ninjago apart and rebuild it with Voss tech, installing himself back in the forefront of tech manufacturing,” She pins Pixal with a pointed look, “He’s obsessed with defeating Cyrus Borg- but your father is not in any immediate danger.”

Pixal feels a bit of tension leave her shoulders, “I have time to save him?”

“Voss wants Borg to have a front row seat to the fall of his empire. He wants Cyrus alive to see the rubble of Borg Tower and after that, I don’t know. Now that he has Borg, though, his plan will be entering the final phase. He will use the power of the gauntlet to open portals throughout downtown ninjago- I know several of the locations he’s planning on placing them that I can pass along. He’s targeting centralized, high traffic areas so he can flood the streets with monsters as quickly and effectively as possible. He is aiming for the absolute maximum amount of destruction in every inch of the city.” She steeples her fingers, “Evacuate the city. Now.”

She doesn’t hesitate on this, raising her Borg radio to her mouth, “Sky, I am officially ordering a full evacuation of the city. I will explain everything later, but right now I need you and the others mobilized.” At Skylors confirmation, Pixal turns her attention back to Stella, “Monsters from where, exactly? Where do these portal lead?”

Where did you send my friends?

Stella pauses on this question, aware the answer will not be one Pixal is thrilled to hear, “The Realm of Madness.” She reveals. “What’s going to come through that portal are some of the most terrifying monsters Ninjago has ever seen, and if I’m any good at reading people- and I am the very best- I can tell you that Broden Voss will not be able to control the chaos he creates. If you can’t stop this, it could lead to more destruction than Ninjago has ever seen.”

“Well,” Pixal says tersely, “Maybe I would have a better chance stopping him if the ninja had not been sent to the Realm of madness and unable to help.”

“Yeah, my bad.”

Ronin trails Pixal as she goes back to the computers, sitting down roughly and opening up a new tab to start another bout of research. Now she had a name- Utano, a great warlord. Pixal could work with that. She pauses and glances at Ronin, curiosity picking at her, “Your sister in law, eh?”

He lets out a put upon sigh and crosses his arms, “Ex sister in law, I’ll remind you.”

“Who became a bounty hunter first?”

“...She was,” He admits grudgingly, “She’s been in the game longer than most.”

Pixal frowns, “I went through countless security feeds and crime reports- That long and she hasn’t gotten caught on camera anywhere? Not even during a trip to the grocery store?”

“Oh, she definitely has. You just don’t know where to look.” He sits down next to her, “She changes her appearance just as seamlessly as Chamille- hair dye, prosthetics, contacts… her eyes aren’t actually blue and brown, you know. She’s evaded any and all facial recognition with clever makeup and smoke-and-mirror tricks.” Pixal opens her mouth, “-And no, I am not going to tell you what to look for. Even if I wasn't a fellow mercenary following the mercenary code, Stella is not an enemy anyone wants to have.”

“Okay.” Pixal relents, “Do you know what this favor could be?”

“No clue.” He shrugs and peeks over her shoulder, “You looking up that warlord guy?”

“Girl.” Pixal corrects as she scans over the basic wikipedia page she’d pulled up. There was… little here, “No parents listed, no spouse. She had one child later in life, but there is no information on them, Not even a name. She was married to a powerful lord in her twenties, but he died a year after they wed. She rose to power through extremist political lobbying and strategic battles with her personal militia until she had conquered over half of ninjago.”

Ronin quirks a brow, “No mention of her magic armor?”

“None here. All it says is she was killed by the elemental masters of creation during her final battle.” Pixal goes back to her original search, “But that was just wikipedia, I’m sure there’s more information somewhere.”

Spoiler alert: There was not more information anywhere.

Pixal scours the internet, following dead end academic papers and documentaries- she even got desperate and checked reddit, of all places. Even after using her status to get into parts of the internet usually barred from the general public, she still came up with nothing. “There are scrolls referenced in all of these papers, but I cannot find the scrolls. They were never digitalized, and apparently no one knows where they went.” She sits back roughly, pushing herself away from the monitor so she doesn’t have to look at it anymore.

Ronin startles awake where he’d fallen asleep on the couch after he got bored, peeking up at her over the arm of it, “Maybe Stella is lying about Utano.”

It’s at that moment that the elevator door dings open and Misako comes striding out with Wu trailing slowly behind her. She’s dressed in thick pants and a button up covered in a thin layer of sand and dirt, her hair much the same in its bun sitting on top of her head, “Did I hear you say Utano?” She asks, shrugging off her satchel and tossing it aside with a cloud of dust, “I came straight from the dig site once Wu informed me of the situation. If you already know about Utano, then we’re on the right track.”

“Misako!” Pixal stands with a smile, moving to hug the woman, “It is good to see you. We know the name, but there’s not much else on the internet to go off of.” She admits.

“I know.” Misako says with a wince, “When Wu told me about the gauntlet, I had a feeling I knew what it was. The scrolls that had any record of Utano were all under the Explorers Club’s lock and key- When I called Cecil and asked about them, he confessed that several artifacts in the clubs collection went missing the day they were all transferred to the museum's custody, apparently lost in the shuffle.”

Pixal feels her expression darken, “He is saying the explorers club lost artifacts? I find that difficult to believe.”

“I looked into it on the way here. Underhill sticks out as the most suspicious- he took off to the other side of the country and bought himself a nice, expensive house on the beach, but the rest of the club members all seem to have come into some money with similar luxury purchases as well.” Misako confirms grimly. “That doesn’t matter right now. What do you know about Utano?”

Pixal relays all the information Stella had told them and what little else she’d gleaned from the internet. Misako nods thoughtfully, “Her reign over Ninjago started hundreds and hundreds of years ago, before we were even aware the sixteen realms existed- She was part of Ninjago and the Cloud Kingdom, a parent from either realm. We refer to her armor in modern times as the Allied Armor of Azure, said to call on different realms to aid its wearer, and scholars presume she received a gift from her Cloud Kingdom parent that allowed this type of enchantment. The only pieces that were meant to survive the armor's destruction were the Helmet that we passed on to the Cloud Kingdom, and the chest plate, which we studied.”

“Is there a way to neutralize its abilities?”

“If there was a way, it would be in the stolen scrolls. As I see it, there is none.” Misako says apologetically, wincing. “Even the Elemental Masters were not able to defeat her at her most powerful.”

Pixal frowns, “The elemental masters did defeat her.”

There’s a pause, “Yes… they did, but it… wasn’t a fair fight.”

“What does that mean?” Ronin pipes up, “Did they get her while she was sleeping or something?”

Misako sighs, “You said you read she had one child, yes?” Pixal nods and Misako shakes her head, “She had three. We have private scrolls written by Utano detailing her three children and how much she loved them. The Elemental Masters of the time made a decision. They needed leverage- They needed bargaining chips. Only one child survived, and Utano was defeated.”

a heartbeat passes.

Pixal swallows down her horror, “The only way they stopped her was by going after something she cared about.”

“And from what Stella is saying, it sounds like Broden Voss doesn’t care about anything-” Ronin snorts, “Except maybe killing your dad.”

“You are not helpful.” Pixal snaps immediately.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any good news.” Misako bows her head.

“Thank you for coming, Misako, but this has been a huge waste of time.” Pixal says bitterly, turning away.

Misako doesn’t flinch at the words, knowing what stress Pixal must be under. She almost doesn’t want to say what she needs to say next. She takes a step forward and opens her mouth anyway, “I didn’t come here to tell you about Utano. Wu could have passed along that message for me.” She says softly.

Pixal looks back at her with a questioning frown, “What did you come here for?” She asks.

Misako steps to the side so Wu is standing in front of Pixal now. He looks miserable and ashamed, staring down at the floor, “I came to make sure he told you.”

Pixal feels a lightning flash of alarm go through her, “Told me what?” she swallows roughly. From where he’s laying on the couch, Ronin sits up in curiosity. There’s a pregnant pause, “I do not have time for this.” She says sharply, refusing to let her voice shake. She turns back to the computers, moving away from them. The tension in the room feels different and wrong- She doesn’t want him to say anything.

“It’s about Zane.” Wu manages to whisper, still looking at the floor.

Pixal freezes in her tracks. Her core seems to tighten painfully, icy fingers wrapping around her insides and tangling her carefully sorted wiring into knots. She slowly spins on her heel to face him again, “What about him?” She asks carefully. The question is laced with grief.

He’s going to break her heart.

Misako makes a go on gesture with her head that Wu sees out of the corner of his eye. He takes another moment to build up his nerve and looks up, meeting Pixal eye for the first time since he’d walked through that door, “Three years ago-'' He begins.

“Master Wu, I don’t need a recap,” She says tightly.

“Three years ago,” He presses on, “After we caught Aspheera, I went to see her in Kryptarium. There were questions I needed answered. When I saw her, I asked why she chose to kill him when I was the one-” He swallows and pauses for a moment, “She told me he was not dead.”

Pixal stares at him, “She did not kill him?”

Wu takes a tentative step forward, “No, she merely banished him… To the Never Realm, a realm impossible to return from.”

“He is… alive?” She breathes softly, shock rendering her dumb for several long moments. Joy and hope bubbles up her chest, “Zane is alive. We can bring him home. We just need to figure out a way to get back to Ninjago- there has to be some way to make it back.”

“Pixal…” Misako’s voice is heavy with sadness.

“Why did you keep this from us, Master Wu?” She’s trying to be angry, but the happiness spreading through her fights the frown on her face, “We could have figured it out together, all of us, and brought him home!”

Wu looks at her with wet, sorrowful eyes. Pixels smile dims.

“There is a way back from the Never Realm,” He says gravely, “The fruit of the travelers tree, high in the mountains.” Her circuits tie themselves together, she can tell another shoe is about to drop, “I discovered it three years ago, when I traveled to the Never Realm to get him.”

She’s not smiling anymore. The room is silent. The glow from the computer monitors illuminates Wu’s robe in pale blue light. It’s so, so quiet.

Her voice is steady, “Why is he not home?”

“Pixal…” He begins.

“Do not patronize me!” She shouts, tears springing to her eyes, “Why tell me this? Why bring up the past and get my hopes up just to crush them again? I have already accepted that he is dead, I did not need you to yank my feelings around like-”

“He’s not dead.” Wu cuts in, and Pixal stops mid-rant, her hands loosening from the fists she’d balled them into.

“I do not understand.” She says blankly, slumping into herself. She tries to put the pieces together, to fit the tragedy into a story that makes sense in the absence of an explaination, “He… chose to stay there?”

“No,” Wu says sadly, and then proceeds to tell her about the worst moment of his life. He tells her about coming to a land unnaturally cold and barren, snow drifts and ice that suffocated the crops and froze people whole. He tells her about the handful of towns still alive who lived under constant fear of their supernaturally powerful emperor, a man who controlled every snowflake in the land. He tells her about making the trek across the mountain and stumbling upon a species of beast hunted to near extinction by the Emperor's samurai, and finding the travelers tree. He tells her about finally coming upon the palace gates, through the Emperor's throne room doors, and who he’d found sitting atop the dais.

“It was Zane, his body, but the man we know and loved was gone.” He tells her, voice thick with pain, “He was violent and angry, and passive to the struggle and pain of others. He did not respond to my voice, he did not react to reminders of who he once was, and he did not hesitate to attempt to strike me down.”

Pixal is silent, leaning against the communications console as if her legs had no strength. She says nothing, face twisted up in aching raw grief and sadness.

“Zane… I believe he was gone, truly. He would have been horrified at what he’d become… You must understand, I did what I did to respect the man I loved as my own son.”

“What did you do?” Pixals voice cracks.

“I could not kill him,” Wu closes his eyes, “I used the fruit of the travelers tree to open a portal to the Realm of Madness… where I banished the Ice Emperor, and freed the Never Realm from his grasp.”

She bows her head, hiding her face in shadows.

“I told you all of that to tell you this… the longer the Ninja haven't returned, the more I fear there is something… or someone keeping them there. They should have made it to the Mountain of madness by now. I have the utmost faith in them, but not only am I afraid of what they might find there, I am afraid of what- or who- may find them. The Ice Emperor was a formidable foe-”

“Stop talking.” Pixal interrupts him icily, voice hard as steel.

He goes silent, staring at her.

“Master Wu… for all of your age… for every ounce of wisdom you have… you are still one of the most foolish people I have ever met.” She looks up at him and her eyes burn, hot pinpricks of fire and pain and rage. “You should have dragged him home. We would have helped him- we would have helped him! We could have saved him-! And- and you better hope the ninja run into him, and do what you failed to do and bring him back to Ninjago- or else when this blows over I am dragging you to the Realm of Madness myself and we are combing every inch of that realm until we find him ourselves!”

He shrinks with shame and guilt under her ire as she advances upon him, rage making her fans kick into high gear, “You knew he was there, you knew the- the Ice Emperor was in the Realm of Madness and you knew he could have posed a serious threat to the ninja, yet you told me they would be okay! That there was nothing to worry about! And now- I cannot go after them! I have to stay here and protect Ninjago, I cannot leave these innocent people behind like I could have a few days ago when my friends first vanished-!” She chokes on a sob, swiping hot tears out of her eyes.

“Pixal, I didn't know-" He looks gutted, "… I’m so sorry-” He starts, reaching out, but she takes a step away from him and bares her teeth.

“Do not-” She snaps, jerking a hand down to keep him away from her, “-Apologize to me. Apologize to Zane when we get him back, apologize to the ninja for keeping this from them, and then never speak to me again. That’s the only thing you can do for me, Master Wu. We’ll work together now because the city needs everyone it can get, but after that... “ She shakes her head, condemnation in her eyes.

He nods, cowed, “If that is what you want… I understand.”

She takes a deep breath, centers herself, and picks up the communicator again. She needs to talk to Skylor, Her face is grim as she raises it to her lips.

“Pixal?” He hesitantly says, before she can speak, “What are we going to do about the ninja?”

“We are going to trust they can make it home,” She says, “And we are going to do our best to make sure there is still a home to come back to.”

The first thing Cyrus smells is the thick scent of designer perfume- he was born into money, raised in the lap of luxury, expensive colognes have always been a part of his life. With the blindfold wrapped around his eyes, the smell becomes stronger and sharper. He narrows the other occupant in the room to a handful of other high society socialites. If he were in the upscale, posh parfumerie in downtown Ninjago he could appreciate the sweet earthy scent of tahitian vanilla, ylang-ylang, rosa centerfoils, italian cinnamon, jasmine, osiris root, and rose oil. An expensive bottle worn only for special occasions- he might even recognize it. As a recently kidnapped prisoner trying to figure out how to untie his wrists from the railings on his wheelchair, some of the intricacies of the scent are lost on him.

“You’ll won’t get away with this.” It feels cliche the moment it comes out of his mouth, but he can’t help but break the silence. The other person in the room is just… staring at him. Cyrus can feel the satisfied, smug gaze weighing on his shoulders. He knows he’s being watched.

“Yes, I will.” The voice is deep and smooth, effortlessly confident.

He doesn’t know what to say.

Shifting sounds in front of him, then the soft click of a wooden box closing. The sharp flick of a lighter. The smell of burning tobacco and whiskey seeps into the air.

“Would you like a cigar, Cyrus?”

“I never acquired a taste for them.” He responds stiffly. He knows that voice, doesn’t he? From where?

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like these if you tried it. Two thousand dollars, retail.” He pauses to taste the smoke, probably. Cyrus can’t see him to tell, “Could I offer you a drink, then? What’s a man of your status’s drink of choice?” He humms in thought, gravely and low, and taps his fingers on a table (desk?) in front of him. It’s more for show than any actual thinking, “Louis XIII cognac? Chateau Cheval Blanc, 1947? Or maybe you go for something a bit pricier, hm? D’Amalfi Limoncello Supreme?”

“I’m not thirsty.” 

“I recommend the cognac, personally. It’s a celebration, after all.”

The hair raises on the back of Cyrus’s neck, “A celebration of what?”

“My victory, of course.” He laughs like that was a silly question, “I won.”

Swallowing thickly, Cyrus tries again to wiggle his wrists out from his bindings. “The ninja-”

“-are gone.” The man responds and Cyrus freezes. The voice was no longer across the room, but right in front of him. He’d move silently across the floor, crouching down to speak directly to Cyrus, “The ninja are gone. No one will be able to save you.”

He leans in, his breath hot on the shell of Cyrus’s ear, “I suggest you have a glass, Cyrus. It will be the last drink you ever have.” He promises.

Cyrus jerks back and slams his head forward before he can think about it. There’s a sharp crack and something warm and wet splatters on his cheek. The man swears loudly and he can hear him stumble away.

“You son of a-” He snarls, smooth confidence immediately bleeding into red hot rage.

“That- ow- Well, that hurts.” Cyrus winced, head pounding.

“I am going to enjoy destroying you!” His voice is thick with hatred.

Cyrus doesn’t know what to think. Who are you?

His wheelchair is kicked roughly and he tips over. He falls hard and he could have braced himself and been just fine if not for the edge of a coffee table sitting perfectly at concussion height.

The world turns black.

[curedblack]

ivantill week day 6 - crossover

alien stage x slow damage

disclaimers:

- Luka might be the Taku in this universe but their relationship isn’t romantic by any means here!!,

- mentions of cutting someone up and blood etc. + self-harm, if you read the vn expect pretty much the same stuff lol,

- Ivan is the Fraise of this universe,

- changed the “Fraise drugged Towa” situation to Till fainting from too much alcohol.

Every resident of ANAKT knew this mysterious artist, who went by “Unknown”. Every work that they created was a masterpiece. 

They were famous for their abstract paintings that would show one’s true feelings, nobody knew how they picked out their next candidates. Their identity was also pretty much a secret, that’s where their nickname probably came from.

Who would guess that the respected Unknown was some guy working as a receptionist at the doctor’s office? Till’s life was composed of smoking, drinking 

some booze and maybe doing something productive once in a while. 

He mostly worked night shifts, the day one’s were too tiring for him. The sun shined too brightly for him to step out from his cave (room). 

There were usually a few more employees around, but in the night the backdoor had more people coming through it - like yakuza and such, everything that wasn’t legal happened in the night, the doctors would take care of the guests themselves so Till usually didn’t have to do anything.

He freeloaded on one of his friends, Luka. He had a spare room in the basement.

 Luka picked up Till from the streets a long time ago, and decided to raise the kid. ANAKT wasn’t a place free of crime, it happened much more often there than in the mainland. The police never cared anyways, if they got enough money they could keep their mouths shut.

—-

“You received flowers, Till.” Luka said while looking at the card attached to the bouquet. “The card has something written on it too, it’s probably an address.”

“Again? What’s up with all that stuff recently… When will that person give up?” Till said while looking curious.

“I have no idea. If we get any more bouquets, we can start growing some sort of forest here.” 

“I should probably head there, my admirer is pretty ambitious it seems.”

Luka nodded and then went back to doing whatever he was doing previously, surprisingly he was liked by most people in ANAKT - with a few enemies of course, who wouldn’t have them.

—

‘So the address is the flower shop here. ’ Till thought while looking at the building in front of him. The shop was located in the middle of the shopping district, a good business location for sure. The name of it was “Sorrow”, pretty unfitting for a flower shop in Till’s opinion.

There were some rumors that the shop had hired a handsome part timer not too long ago, he had black hair and eyes that reflected the universe in them. People tend to over exaggerate a lot, so he didn’t expect much.

—

There was a guy reorganizing flowers next to the exit, with care that was even obvious to someone like Till.

“Welcome to the store!” He said, then turned around and blushed. It was now obvious that he was the one that sent the flowers, no normal person would react like that.

“Were you the one that sent the bouquet earlier?” Till said while he gave the card to the employee. “Forget I even asked, it’s obvious.”

“Ah yes, that was me. I’m sorry it’s a bit awkward to be discovered this early… Am I really that obvious?”

“Yeah, and what do you mean early? You sent me more than 10 of those. That’s a lot.”

“I guess I went a little overboard…”

“..What do you mean by little?”

—-

They somehow ended up in a bar, Till started scolding Ivan (that was the employees name)  in the shop and it got a lot more awkward than it was, so some drinks would definitely lift it up,  at least that was what Till thought - who has no idea how socializing works.

“I’ve been looking at this site a lot recently, and this artwork really piqued my interest.” Ivan said while showing a picture on his phone to Till. “At first glance it looks like a fresh self harm wound but if you look into it those are flowers.”

“You know a lot about flowers, huh?” Till said while he looked directly into Ivan’s eyes.

“I guess so.. I work in a flower shop for some reason. It must’ve been pretty natural to learn.”

“Good point. Now let’s order some more alcohol.” Till said while waving at the barman, which was Hyuna. Her bar was pretty famous. 

—

“Are you okay?” Ivan asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Probably not.” Till replied “If I faint you can leave me here.”

—

‘An unfamiliar roof, huh. I can feel something stinging on my body.’ Till thought.

There was a scar on his chest, a pretty big one to add. It was bandaged, so there wasn’t anything to really worry about. He started looking at all the flowers scattered around the room, it was pretty messy here.

“I’m sorry for the mess… I didn’t have time to clean up.”

“It’s alright, my room isn’t clean either.” Till tried to cheer up Ivan. “But do you know why there’s a big scar on my chest?”

“You fell into the traffic when I guided you here.” Ivan was looking visibly nervous. 

“You know that’s not possible, right?” Till pointed at a sharp object across the room. “I don’t think that would be covered in blood either, what are your real motives?”

Ivan started shaking and started saying something. “Scars.. they look beautiful. On you especially, I love to see how the blood pours out from them.”

TIll started unwrapping the bandage around his chest. “C’mon. Pick up that knife and cut me up.”

“Are you… sure?”

“I am.”

Ivan picked up the knife and started placing cuts gently, but Till interrupted him.

“No need to be afraid.” He placed Ivans hand with the knife on his back and started cutting it fastly.

—

“You made that artwork you showed me before, right?” Till asked, all in blood now.

“Yeah, was it that easy to notice?” Ivan responded, still out of breath because of what happened earlier.

“The way you used me as a canvas was similar to how that piece looked, so I assumed.”

“You look beautiful… Truly.” Ivan said as he caressed Till’s wounds. “Can I put a flower in them?”

—

One of Ivan’s desires was to get painted by Unknown, something that was unachievable for most. He told Till that he approached him because he suspected something at first, but then he got genuinely interested.

As always, Till brought a person’s real self out to paint them. When he returned home he started painting, he wouldn’t stop even for a second. “Have you even eaten anything in the past 2 days?” Luka looked at Till, there was no response. “The Ivan guy left some donuts earlier, I’m gonna put them there. Also, don’t forget to show me the painting that you made.”