#Ring Motion Sensor Not Working

[socksandbuttons]

Wake Up, Daydream (Part 1)

He woke with a start.

The sun model had been sitting on his knees with his hands lightly folded on his lap, as his oddly groggy mind slowly found reality returning to him. He had been seated in what he assumed to be the middle of a very large room with a single overly bright, florescent light shining down on him from above. This, while the rest of the room was fully concealed in shadows. The light sensors in his rays adjusted slightly as he sat up a bit straighter and tried to make out more of his surroundings. This room was as black as pitch and try as he might he couldn’t discern anything else in the area. He shifted and tried to stand up, but he found that his limbs were shaking as he did so and he ended up falling back down again... it was as though he had been asleep for hours, if not longer. It was unusual that he was this disoriented by everything after merely sleeping. Not to mention he couldn’t make out anything in the darkness that surrounded him.

‘Where... am I?’

Was he in parts and service again? Did he-

“Moon? D-did it work? Where’s Ecl-” He started, only to be interrupted by the sound of slow footsteps approaching him from a direction he couldn’t immediately discern. The sun themed animatronic tensed as he looked in all directions. Why’d Moon leave the lights off-

“Moon isn’t here. You don’t need to worry about him.”

This Sun froze and watched as another version of himself walked out from the dark directly in front of him. Right into the ring of light that shone down on the sitting Suns somewhat smaller than average form. The whole situation felt incredibly strange, his apparent doppelgangers presence only amplifying that feeling. Not to mention that when he looked into the other Suns eyes, he found no warmth. His steely gaze seemed to make the room feel colder. That cold feeling sending a chill down his spinal struts, but his frigid eyes aside, his face bore the expression of satisfaction.

The seated Sun furrowed his brow. Did... he know him?

“I’m glad to see you’re awake. I was starting to wonder if your processing unit would be responsive after all that.”

The smaller Sun blinked, confused. “W-What?”

“You were gone for quite a long time. I was starting to wonder if your system just didn’t want to wake up. Would’ve been a waste of effort if you hadn’t.” This stranger spoke so casually and matter-o-factly, as though Sun understood what was going on when he didn’t. He just kept staring. Who is this? What’s he got to do with- wait.

“Where’s Moon? Eclipse? Where are my brothers?” He asked, frantically looking around as if the darkness would disperse and reveal their location. But no such thing happened.

The strange Sun, Dark Sun, just placed a hand on this Sun’s shoulder, a motion that might have been comforting in a normal situation, but sadly it gave off no such feeling here. “I told you; he isn’t here. Neither is... Eclipse.”

“Did... did something happen to them? Who are you? Why-”

“I know you must have a lot of questions. But I promise you, I am here to help. Well, I already did given that you’re fully functioning now.” Dark Sun said as he gave him a halfhearted grin. But Sun didn’t feel any warmth from it. No comfort. Just that same coldness that seemed symbiotic with Dark Suns existence. But it was dawning on him what he was implying.

“...It... it didn’t work?” He whispered as he slumped back down. His mind started to race, all he could think about was that if he had survived then it meant- “I killed him?”

Dark Sun raised an eyebrow before giving him a rather quizzical hum; wordlessly asking for him to elaborate on that.

“Eclipse... is he-?”

“Oh.” Dark Sun suddenly chuckled, as if bemused. “No. He’s alive and well.”

Sun immediately let a relieved sigh, a small smile returning to his face. Though it faltered when he looked back to the other. Both knowing the next question, it hung silently in the air before the other Sun could speak it.

“Where’s Mo-” He didn’t get to finish asking, as Dark Sun swiftly reached down, grabbed his hands and brought him to his feet.

“Now is not the time to dive into all that.” He seemed to chide. “You want to see Eclipse, don’t you? Your brother?” The other Sun blinked rapidly, his muddled mind still trying to process what his doppelganger was saying. But once it truly registered, he nodded promptly.

“I-I do!”

With a sudden snap of Dark Sun’s fingers, the rest of the lights in the room turned on. Revealing to the smaller Sun that this definitely wasn’t parts and service. It… it looked more like a room that belonged in some sort of dark citadel or a castle.

Dark Sun didn’t let his guests attention linger on where he was for more than a few seconds. He kept his grip on confused animatronics shoulder and began guiding him out of what was actually his laboratory and toward the destination he planned for. Sun stumbled a bit along the way while trying to match the other’s quick and steady pace. Though he felt his balance was a bit off, the longer he was on his feet the more he felt his stability return. Eventually helping him to keep up with his mysterious companion, rather than just be dragged along.

“I’m sure that you have realized by now, that you were presumed dead.” Dark Sun stated as though this fact was a simple one and not one of deep, terrible significance. His guest actually stopped walking for a moment as this registered that this stranger even knew. He began to tense, wringing his hands in a nervous manner. He had indeed known the risks of what he had agreed to.

“I’m impressed you chose to agree to such a procedure and accepted all its risks down to your own code. However, we don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

“’We?” Sun glanced at Dark Sun as he was being led into another, even larger room. Although he didn’t really have the chance to get a response as Dark Sun released his grip on him and this Sun stopped walking and just gaped at the sheer size of this place and how its gothic architecture made it look like they had just walked into an ancient cathedral.

“Now then, please step into the circle there.”

Sun finally turned back to Dark Sun, just as he pointed to a large glowing red circular panel in the middle of the room. The smaller Sun swallowed nervously and took several hesitant steps toward it. “Why?”

“You’ll see soon enough. I shouldn’t need to tell you who you’re going to find.” Dark Sun said as he turned toward a nearby pedestal that held a vast array of different buttons and switches and he began to input various commands. “Of course, I’m unsure of how prepared you may be for this. So my apologies in advance if it disorients you.”

The Sun felt a chill, realizing what he meant as he slowly walked into the glowing circle as he had been asked. Only for his legs to suddenly lock up and refuse to move at all once he was inside. Suddenly feeling a wave of fear, he tried to speak up only to find his voice was locked as well. He could only watch as Dark Sun looked up from the console and gave a small wave before pressing one final button.

And then he just wasn’t there...

It was as though the other Sun was suddenly falling forwards at an incredible speed. Colors, shapes and streams of lights rushing past him at a dizzying rate, his light processing overworking and glitching out. There came a moment when he couldn’t see anything-

And then he was in the dark again…

He took a second and let his eyes adjust. Noticing there were speckles of light now. He tried to sit up, the colorful balls he had unknowingly been submerged in shifting and rolling away as he did so. Oh. He was in the ball pit.

He looked around as he managed to stand up and wade out of the ball pit. Everything was so bright... and quiet.

“Hello?”

He didn’t get any response. Was this home? Was... was everything that just happened all real? Did that other Dark Sun mean it when he said that his brothers were alright? He could only look nervously ahead as he cautiously walked around. It seemed odd to him. All of it. He knew his Moon had built a portal in the ball pit. He’d explained how it worked before. Although... he hardly understood it really. Was that somehow how everything had all happened? He’d never gone in before.

Did he black out somehow instead?

He slowly took in his surroundings. It... it looked a lot like home. Isn’t it home?

Although he suddenly noticed that the barrels weren’t stacked properly. Oh no, he’d never leave this so messy. He wasted no time to start doing something that came to him as natural as breathing was to a human. Cleaning…

---------- AND THE FIRST PART WAS WRITTENNN for a while actually just forgot to edit something and post it lol BIG SHOUT OUT TO @thorns-and-rosewings for proofreading and adding descriptions!! ;0; truly i am grateful!! Anyway the first part to my Daydream Intro Fic! He's refered to as Sun here for now. I got him and solar meeting next. (Which had to be rewritten) Writing is hard. But its Happening!

Idk how im gonna write up Servant Moon but we'll get there when we get there. Maybe just thru various doodles ill bombard people.

[hotchs-bitch]

Cold December Night- Part 1

AN: Here it is, folks! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it <3 In true T fashion, it's named after a Michael Buble song (yes, a Michael Buble Christmas song. I'm done defending him). Find it on ao3 here, or under the cut!

Happy reading <3

Stockings are hung with care The children sleep with one eye open Well, now there's more than toys at stake 'Cause I'm older now but not done hoping

“No, Marcus! Fuck you!”

Hotch’s gaze darts towards the clock on the wall opposite his desk. 7:28pm. He’s usually the only person in the office at this hour, but he’s certain that he just heard an exclamation from the bullpen.

He straightens up in his seat to go investigate the noise; the motion-sensor lights of his office flicker on, and the bright LED is harsh compared to the warm orange lamplight he’s been working under. How long has it been since he last moved around?

Instead of thinking about that, he stands up with a stifled groan. He isn’t as young as he used to be, and these long nights of doing paperwork hunched over sitting on office chairs is certainly starting to catch up with him.

What else is he supposed to do? Go home and be alone during the holidays? Jack is old enough to have some say in the custody agreement, and he made it clear that he wanted to spend the next few weeks with Haley.

It had hurt, especially when Jack refused to tell his dad why he made the choice. It was like a knife through the heart, but it didn’t compare to the feeling in Aaron’s chest when he spoke to Haley about it.

“He’s afraid you’ll have to work. He doesn’t want to be alone on Christmas,” she had told him, as warm and empathetic as she had ever been, but it didn’t stop Aaron from feeling the knife in his heart as it twisted around.

He didn’t want to think about that, so he worked. He stayed late, worked long hours and took on extra consults, doing whatever he could to avoid his empty apartment that didn’t even have a Christmas tree or any decorations up.

And apparently, he isn’t the only one staying late tonight.

“You’re a piece of shit, do you know that?”

The voice rings out again, and Hotch approaches his office window. His door is wide open, but he can’t see anyone in the bullpen below. When he steps out of his office, he starts following the voice as the tirade continues. Down the steps into the bullpen, towards a cluster of desks tucked out of view of his office.

“We were supposed to go tomorrow. Tomorrow, you asshole. What the hell am I supposed to tell my family? What should I say to my mother?” There’s a brief pause, followed by a scornful laugh. “You wish. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Just as Hotch turns the corner and sees you drop your phone on the desk, he hears a sob. A weak sound, like you aren’t sure you want to make the noise but have to let it out anyway.

Oh, great.

Hotch prided himself on the interpersonal relationships of the BAU, between the other agents and with himself. Maybe he wasn’t exactly friends with the agents on his team, but that was fine. There was still a mutual respect and trust, one that he relied on in the field and did his best to maintain.

Except with you.

He didn’t really know why, truth be told. You had been warm and receptive upon first starting at the BAU, and it had been a nice few weeks. But overnight, for a reason Hotch didn’t understand, a switch had flipped. You started brushing off his greetings, ignoring his offers of coffee when he made a fresh pot, and generally leaving him feeling disrespected.

The exception, and the reason he hadn’t filed any kind of complaint about your behaviour, was fieldwork. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, and you never disregarded his theories the way you brushed off his opinions on things as simple as the weather. 

In the field, you could read each other’s minds. But the second your bulletproof vest came off, Hotch felt like he transformed back into someone you couldn’t care less about. Like the unit existed in Cinderella, and he turned into a pumpkin at midnight.

Despite it all, Hotch still tried to respect you and even to get along in the office. He didn’t treat you any differently in or out of the field, but with time and your repeated rebuffs of his attempts at friendliness, the attempts faded away and were replaced with a quiet acceptance that you just didn’t like him. As long as you didn’t disrespect him in the field, he knew it would be fine.

So when he comes across you in the bullpen, tucked away and sobbing into your hands, he has no idea what to do. Should he try to comfort you? Sneak back to his office and pretend he never heard a thing?

The decision is made for him when he shifts slightly and his knee pops audibly, a result of sitting the way he has been for hours.

The sound gets your attention, and you barely turn your head. It isn’t the confrontation he was expecting from you finding him eavesdropping, but your reaction makes more sense when he hears your voice.

It’s ragged, and tired. You sound defeated. “How much did you hear?”

Hotch keeps his voice low, quiet, hoping that his tone can calm you a little. “Not much. Cursing aside, just that you have to go somewhere tomorrow and don’t know what to tell your mother.”

He must be right, because you heave out the sigh of the century. “She’s always right. Do you have any clue how annoying that is? She hates every guy I date, and we fight about it, and then he turns out to be an even bigger douchebag than the guy before him. I was an idiot for thinking she’d be wrong about Marcus.”

That’s one family annoyance Hotch has never had to worry about; his father wasn’t right about a single thing in his life. “Marcus… is that your boyfriend?”

“He was. And then he got arrested for having sex in public.” It takes a half-second for Hotch to put together the pieces, but you fill him in just to be safe. “And it was with someone else. Obviously. He just called me to bail him out, and I told him to go to hell.”

Aaron can’t hold back his wince. “I’m sorry. Are you going to be alright?”

The scornful laugh he heard earlier punches out of you again, and you shake your head. You’re still turned away, but it’s easy to see when you rub your eyes. “We were supposed to visit my family for the holidays. They always make such a big deal out of it, too. I didn’t bring someone two years in a row, and you would have thought the world was ending. They were so happy I was bringing Marcus. They’ve never met him, only heard stories, and they were excited to actually get to know him. Now I have to go there alone, tell my mother she was right about him, and get silently judged by my extended family for a week. I’m in hell.”

If there’s something Aaron can relate to, it’s family judgement. Later, when he thinks back on this moment, he might blame his next sentence on that. He might blame it on the late hour and his recent lack of sleep, or he might blame it on something more subconscious, like how he doesn’t need to be home for Jack this year. No, not that. He doesn’t want to think about that.

Well, it doesn’t matter what he’s going to blame it on, because he still says it. “You could bring someone else.”

“Right, totally. I’ll just finish up this report and head over to Boyfriends-R-Us.” The sarcasm is dripping off of you, a thin layer to shield the vulnerability and hurt in your voice.

Aaron definitely isn’t going to think about this moment later, when he starts playing the blame game with his past self. But if he were to think about it at all, he would recognize the way his stomach clenches when he hears your voice crack, exposing the raw hurt under it. The way he sympathizes with that hurt, and wants to make it go away.

“I could help you out.”

It’s the first time in all the conversation that he sees your entire face; you turn around in your desk chair, giving him an incredulous look. You look vulnerable, upset, and he thinks he can detect a flash of hope in your eyes before you blink.

“What?”

“I can come with you. I’ll pretend to be Marcus–you said no one has met him yet—and you don’t have to tell anybody what happened for a few months, if you like. It’s a win-win.”

If you’re curious about how it’s a win for Aaron too, you don’t question it just yet. Later, when you think back on this moment, you might blame it on that. On your own curiousity, wanting to know why he’s willing to be out of the state on Christmas and why he looks so vulnerable while he waits for you to answer.

It doesn’t really matter what you can blame it on, though; not when you stick out your hand to shake his, think ‘consequences be damned’, and say, “Deal.”

Next part >

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[hopeyoufindalovelikethis]

The One Match I Lost Gladly

One of the reasons I’ve always leaned toward Sylus is because, like me, he understands the rhythm of combat and the discipline it takes to hold your ground. I love Muay Thai and train regularly. And through that lens, I wanted to explore what it feels like to be guided not just by a fighter, but by someone who makes you feel safe even in your weakest moments. Thank you for reading and remember that you don’t have to win to be worthy of being chosen—you already are 🤍

Synopsis | She had trained hard, trying to match his skill, but even her best couldn’t close the gap between them. After a sparring round left her disheartened, Sylus reminded her that his goal wasn’t to defeat her—but to make her stronger for the moments he couldn’t stand beside her. She hadn’t won the match. She had already won him.

The Onychinus Tower always felt quieter this time of evening—just after the shift change, when most of the guards had moved to the perimeter levels, and the central halls grew still. You stepped through the glass doors leading to Sylus’s private training floor, the hum of motion sensors flicking on the perimeter lighting. The room ahead opened like a hidden chamber of steel and shadow: matte-black floors, padded walls, twin punching bags suspended from reinforced beams, and a single elevated ring lit by the soft amber glow of overhead LEDs.

Sylus was already there.

He stood by the far punching bag, dressed in his full black gear—training shirt clinging to the shape of his back, shorts cinched just above the knee, his hands wrapped and gloved, as though he had been waiting exactly for this moment. His gaze lifted the second you entered, locking on you not with surprise, but with something steadier—intent. You caught the faintest rise of his brow, that familiar spark of approval hidden behind the cool cut of his expression.

“Took your time,” he said.

You smirked, walking toward the bench to set down your bag. “Don’t start with me.”

He chuckled, low and quiet. “You’re the one who asked for training. I’m just reminding you who you asked.”

You peeled off your hoodie, revealing your short-sleeved top and matching black shorts. Your soft pink gloves swung gently at your wrist, catching in the air. Sylus glanced at them, then back to your face, the barest hint of warmth breaking into his usual stillness.

“Cute gloves,” he murmured. “Dangerous look.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “Just don’t hold back because they’re soft pink.”

“I won’t,” he said, his smirk captured your heart as always.

You followed him into the open space between the ring and the mats. He stood in front of you, arms folded over his chest, the line of his mouth unreadable.

“Hands,” he said.

You raised them—guard up, elbows in.

He moved closer, lifting one of your wrists and tilting it slightly. “Tighter angle. You drop your left too early when you exhale. Tells your opponent you’re winding up for a hook.”

You nodded, adjusting. “Noted.”

He stepped back, motioned you to begin shadow work. “Start slow. One minute on the clock. Focus on footwork and breathing.”

You moved into motion—jab, reset, cross, pivot. The silence was filled only with the sound of your breath and the slight scuff of shoes on the mat. Sylus circled you, not as a predator, but as a shield—eyes sharp, arms behind his back, studying everything. When your right shoulder rolled forward too far, he stepped in and corrected it. When your stance shifted unevenly, he tapped your ankle with his foot—not harsh, just enough to bring your focus back.

The minute passed.

“You’re tighter than last time,” he said. “More control in your core. Still too reactive when you take a hit, but your form’s improving.”

You nodded, breath steady. His praise meant more than he let on, and you knew it. He didn’t offer it lightly.

“Switch,” he said. “Movement drills. Bag.”

You moved to the punching bag beside him, already centered, and began again. Jab. Jab-cross. Uppercut. Hook. Sylus stood just behind your shoulder, close enough that his presence felt like a tether. His hand came up once to realign your elbow, fingers brushing briefly across your skin. His voice remained steady—deep and instructional, but never impatient.

“Breathe through impact. Don’t waste air before contact.”

You nodded, focused.

His voice dropped closer to your ear. “Don’t hold back just because I’m watching. Hit like you mean it.”

And you did.

The bag jolted from the final cross, and you stepped back, chest rising and falling, sweat beginning to gather at your temples.

Sylus’s hand came up to rest on your back, a silent signal to stop.

“That’s enough warm-up,” he said. “Now we go in.”

You inhaled slowly as you adjusted the strap of your glove, the clean scent of leather mixing with the warmth of your breath. Sylus was already stepping into the ring, moving with quiet focus as he leaned against the ropes, waiting.

He leaned against the ropes as he waited, one glove resting on the top rope, his body relaxed but alert. His expression didn’t change as you approached, but the moment your feet met the canvas, he straightened. His eyes swept over you once—your posture, the set of your jaw, the slight quiver in your stance—and without a word, he lifted his hands.

You nodded. And just like that, the round began.

Your feet shifted into position, instinct sharpening as you closed the distance. You struck first—quick jab, testing distance, then a pivoting hook to test his reflexes. Sylus blocked it effortlessly, barely moving his arms as he countered with a measured cross. You ducked and stepped back, recovering your stance, trying not to overthink the way his body moved like he had memorized every form before you even began.

You threw another combo—this time faster, more confident. He dodged cleanly.

His feet barely made a sound on the canvas, and yet each movement cut into your rhythm like a whisper slicing air. When he did respond, it was never reckless. One low jab to your ribs, just enough to unbalance you. A palm press against your shoulder to knock your step wide. He wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was reminding you of the difference. Not to shame. Just to teach.

You knew that.

But still, your breath caught when you stumbled slightly, a foot slipping out of stance. Sylus paused, immediately giving you space, hands lowering to check your reaction.

You raised yours again, more from stubbornness than composure. “Again,” you said.

He nodded once. No smile. No teasing.

This time, you landed a clean jab. You felt the impact in your shoulder, the brief satisfaction of control. But it didn’t last. When you followed up with a cross, Sylus leaned aside with ease, caught your glove against his forearm, and in one fluid pivot, stepped behind your guard and tapped your side.

The match was light. But the gap felt enormous.

You lowered your arms slowly, stepping back as the timer sounded. The round was over. You pulled your gloves off and slumped onto the nearest corner stool, your back hitting the post as you reached for your towel with a sigh.

Sylus crouched in front of you a moment later, removing his own gloves with slow, practiced motions. He handed you your bottle, then rested his forearm on the edge of the ring beside your thigh.

“You’re getting stronger,” he said, voice calm. “Your angles have improved. You kept your footing better today.”

You nodded, but your eyes dropped to the mat. “Not good enough, though. Not if you were serious.”

He didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he studied your expression—the way your shoulders curved inward, the subtle way your mouth pressed into itself. The effort you had given was real. And so was the disappointment in your voice.

“You don’t spar me to match me,” he said at last. “Not yet.”

You looked up, and he met your eyes fully.

“I’ve been trained since forever,” he continued. “I’ve fought men who would slit my throat for blinking. I didn’t survive that world because I was kind. I survived it because I had no other option.”

You said nothing.

“But I train you,” he said, quieter now, “so you’ll have the strength to stand your ground even when I’m not there.”

That sentence sat heavy in your chest. Not because it hurt, but because it healed something deeper than your pride.

He reached up then, his gloved knuckles brushing your jaw gently, lifting your chin just slightly. “Don’t measure your strength by my experience. You’re not meant to be a version of me. You’re meant to survive with me.”

You tried to speak, but he leaned in, just enough that your thoughts scattered.

“I wasn’t fighting to win today,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple as he spoke. “Because I already lost the only match that mattered.”

Your breath caught. “What match?”

Sylus smiled against your skin. “You.”

Your chest tightened, not from exhaustion—but from something warmer.

“You didn’t need fists to win me over,” he said, his voice dipping low, rough around the edges but full of certainty. “You used your love. And that’s something no one else could ever land.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead—gentle and unwavering, a gesture that grounded more than it asked. His lips then found your cheek, lingering there with a warmth that made your breath catch, and when you finally closed your eyes, his mouth met yours—soft, unhurried, and full of something that had no need to prove itself.

The kiss ended without a word, but the air between you shifted. Your chest still rose and fell with the rhythm of the match, yet your mind had quieted in a way your body hadn’t. You kept your eyes closed for another second, letting the weight of Sylus’s nearness settle like a balm across your skin.

He didn’t move away immediately. His hand remained at your side, fingers splayed gently across your ribcage, thumb brushing once along the hem of your training top. When he finally leaned back, his expression had softened—but there was a glint returning to his gaze. One you recognized.

“Get back up,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “What?”

He reached for the towel you had set aside, brushed it along the side of your face to catch the sweat near your brow, and smirked.

“We’re not done, kitten.”

Your lips parted slightly in protest, but he lifted one brow with slow finality.

“You want to be better, don’t you?”

You gave a small nod.

“Then let’s fix one of those gaps while your heart’s still beating like it means it.”

He stood and extended a hand. You took it, and he pulled you back onto your feet—not roughly, but with the kind of strength that reminded you who he was. Not just your partner, but the man who had earned every scar he carried and who now offered all that discipline to you, without reservation.

“You’re teasing me,” you muttered as you wore your gloves back and shifted your stance, trying to hide the grin tugging at your lips despite the burn still lingering in your chest.

Sylus stepped back toward the center of the ring, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “Of course I am, kitten. But I meant it. We won’t stop until at least one of your gaps gets covered today.”

He wore his gloves, then raised them again. His posture shifting with clean precision. No more foreplay. No more indulgent softness.

This was your second drill.

And somehow, as you stepped into the second drill, it didn’t feel like you were just stronger—it felt like you were steadier. You weren’t moving to impress him anymore. You were moving because he had reminded you that you were already enough. You exhaled slowly, squared your shoulders, and met his gaze with a fire that no longer needed to prove itself—only to grow.

“Ready when you are.”

Sylus’s mouth curved slightly.

“Good,” he said. “Now keep your left up. I’m not letting you walk out of here until it’s second nature.”

And just like that, the round began again—sweat, breath, rhythm, and the silent tether between two hearts training side by side.

[rezwrites]

Hey! I am a fan of your vampire Agatha… maybe can I request a second part where someone discovers the secret space where Reader is and Agatha kills this person in front of Reader?

of course!

Warnings: +18 MDNI, description of murder/blood, Stockholm Syndrome, claustrophobia(reader gets put in a small closet briefly) brief mention of periods, bondage

a/n: part one here. Don’t like? Don’t read.

Waking up from that first night you found yourself in a tiny storage closet, body fully bound and frozen, propped against the door. Unsure of how long it’s been, but clearly long enough to hear the heavy steps of combat boot and the sporadic chatter of police radios. All your attempts to draw attention to yourself are rendered feeble when your body refused to move an inch. The voices faded as you desperately tried to move your body or make a sound, chest squeezing with terror. Heaving quick, shallow breaths you felt lightheaded, ears starting to ring.

The door suddenly opens, the intrusion of light makes you wince before you realize you’re falling. Smells of faint bleach and chemicals reached your senses, before realizing Agatha is holding you. “I see the paralytic is starting to wear,” her face emotionless as she picked you up bridal style, all you could muster up was a small noise. Looking at the wall you see a keypad disguised as a thermostat, the clicks of the doorknob locking after she swiftly entered a code.

“Those cops couldn’t find anything, and the investigators came up with nothing from the CCTV,” she started down towards the end of the hallway, stopping ahead of a slightly ajar door. Using her foot to open the door she descended down the stairs, the motion sensor lights activating, “Like I said, you probably went out the back avoiding the cameras. Whatever they find afterwards won’t trace back to me. Not that I was careless.” She ended with a slight chuckle, tossing you on the lone bed, another small grunt coming from you.

Crisp, white sheets crumpling underneath you as she dragged your limbs to the edges of the bed, placing new binds on you. Her red eyes beamed against the silver slivers of the moonlight coming from the small windows at the top of the room. Draping a cover over you she set you up with another IV, before bidding you a goodnight.

The days blurred together in a limbo. Waking up in a haze, only to crash back into unconsciousness. Your only sense of time and only form of social interaction is when Agatha comes down to see you.

Agatha would let you walk around after hours under her strict supervision. You try to plan an escape but you feel dejected every time you remember how a solid punch to her face didn’t phase her. Some nights when hopelessness weighted you down completely, Agatha would walk you around herself, your bare feet lightly dragging along the frigid tiles. Those nights she would bring you to her office, perching you in her lap as she worked the night away.

She never fed from you when you were on your period. Instead you’d wake up to some chocolate on your pillow or her putting some mild pain-relief in your drip line. Quite thankful she doesn’t peep when you wash up after her feeds, scrubbing away the blood and Agatha’s sticky arousal. From time to time you’d catch her mumbling about bringing you somewhere, always afraid to ask her to clarify. Each time you asked her how long you’ve been here all you’d get is a cold stare and a ‘don’t worry about it’. The outside world forgotten as your new world revolved around Agatha.

—

One night you were startled awake to the door crashing open, the sound reverberating off the walls. A thin man, hardly any older than you stood in the doorway, the light from the hallway illuminating his silhouette. He struggled down the stairs, his breath heaving. He must have a bad wound by the way his bloody footpath trails behind him.

He looked so disoriented, stumbling about in the dark. His eyes widened upon seeing you, “There you are, I knew you were here.” He forced himself to steady out, “I’m a private investigator hired by your family’s lawyer.” Frantically, he untied your wrist binds, “That woman… she’s a monster!”

An image of Agatha’s hurt face showed itself in the back your mind, you couldn’t bring yourself to move off the bed. Just as he tried to urge you to move, her voice rung out, “That’s not a nice thing to say.” She suddenly appeared behind the man, her face hard and furious. She grabbed his throat in an iron grip, “It’s also not polite to try to steal someone else’s property.” You finally see a deep gash across his lower back.

“She belongs with her family!” He choked out. Agatha turned him around, his back against her. Her hard stare at you caught you off guard.

“Do you want to leave?” Agatha asked you, abruptly. You swallowed hard, eyes shifting between her and the man. Anxiety built up at the thought of leaving.

Despite everything Agatha has done, she’s never hurt you outside of her feeds. Rarely, she’ll even bring you out at night to get some fresh air, only if you behaved.She always keeps you fed and clean. Slowly you shook your head. She turned her attention back to the man, grip tightening on his neck, “See? She’s alive, and doesn’t want to leave.”

Quickly, you closed your eyes once the sound of cracking bones reached you ears. The sound of her dragging the body up the stairs struck terror deep within you, still well aware of the strength and power she holds.

You didn’t reopen your eyes until you heard Agatha’s footsteps coming down the stairs again. She rebounded your wrists, a soft smile on her face. Her hands smelled of anti microbial soap. She patted your head, before softly cupping your face, “I’ll bring you home soon.”

[mychlapci]

Ageswap Prowl, having accepted his place as a little cocksleeve for his mentors, devises a plan to convince daddy Springer that he is, in fact, a bottom slut through and through

He puts on his cutest and naughtiest gothic lolita style dress and waits in Springer's quarters, prepping himself on the large bed as he waits for his sire. When Springer returns, he is graced with a slutty dolled up Prowl panting desperately, leaking all over the covers. His holes well spread and glistening

As Springer tries to find his words in that brief moment of shock, Prowl takes the opportunity and starts begging like a proper whore. Crawling forwards on all fours, leaving the massive, wet plug behind on the bed so that he could rub his sopping hole all over his daddy's pedes. Grinding his little ringed cocklet against a strut, desperately fucking his spike duct with a sound, going all see, daddy? His little nubby spike is just another hole to be fucked, there's no way he can be a stud with such an adorable and weak toy

And if Springer still needs convincing, Prowl goes to work showing off just how good he is at sucking cock now. Skillfully laving his pierced glossa all over his panel, teasing slobber into every seam until it tingles, exventing heavily, moaning and groaning seductively as he stares up with an absolutely sinful expression. Optics half lidded and dim, sensor panels hung low, trembling. As if he was already cockdrunk before he even got a taste of Springer's fat cock, painfully locked in under his panels still.

One hand still ramming the sound in and out of his tiny spike, the other tweaking a gleaming nozzle, letting out little gasps when he pinches it. Even as he rubs his leaky pussy against his foot, he's taking care to gyrate his hips, waggling his aft to make those bells on the hem of his skirt jingle cutely.

It doesn't take long for Springer to see the light. His son, no, daughter, has well and truly blossomed into a sultry little minx. A bold little cumslut. Too bold even. Perhaps, if Prowl really isn't meant to be a stud like him, then he should be taught a lesson in trying to manipulate his daddy in such a manner. Well then, if the little slut wants to play, daddy will play, alright

He asks if Prowl really, really wants a taste of daddy's cock. And when Prowl cries out yes, he holds his lips flush to his panel, gripping the mechling by the chevron, and pressurises his spike directly into his intake. Making Prowl's optics roll back as he almost cums from getting his throat tubing stuffed to the brim in one fell swoop. Springer berates his girl for his lack of self control. Without the twins around to keep him in line, he'd be choking on cock all day like a greedy fleshlight, wouldn't he?

Whatever answer that was on his glossa gets fucked back into his tiny mouth as Prowl loses himself tl the rhythm of getting facefucked by his sire's fat, bulging spike. He tries his best to pleasure Springer to show that he's really a good girl. Working his tongue to stroke the indents of each biolight along the shaft. Swallowing around that length to create and undulating motion in his throat. But its to no avail, as Springer's rough thrusts just has him seeing stars, tongue eventually lolling about inside as the Wrecker pressed his spike down on it. Drool spilling out in bursts with each jab

But before he cums down his baby girl's throat, Springer pulls out. He's going to finish inside Prowl. Fill him up like the pretty little cumdumpster he was destined to be. He easily picks the cadet up and lays him out on the bed.

But before he does anything, he retrieves the discarded dildo, and has Prowl suck on it a little. Telling him to get it nice and wet as he reaches down to twist the sounding rod still inside Prowl'ss spike, because that monster of a plug going back inside him. No, daddy's not going to breed his slutty pussy today.

Since he's so insistent on being a little fuckhole, Springer has decided that his fussy girl doesn't need a cock then, since he can't appreciate having one. Though looking at the pathetic little thing, he agrees with the twin's assessment at last: that cute, sensitive spike is indeed, too tiny to be anything more than a toy. There's no way he can satisfy anybody with it. It's basically just another clit for Prowl.

But daddy knows better, and he's decided that his useless spikesheathe would be better as another fuckhole for his babydoll. Prowl's eyes widen in surprise when he realises what Springer meant, but before he could conjure up a protest, it flees his mind when Springer rips the dildo out of his mouth and shoves it under his very short dress, plastering the cockhead right up against his ceiling node. Punching a wail out of his vocaliser as his optics cross.

Dazed, he lies there as his daddy leand in close, ordering him to clench down on that dildo. Keep it inside his pussy. Prowl squeals when Springer starts twisting the sounding rod in very wide circles, tugging his cocklet all around. Stretching his spike duct out.

Springer stuffs a thumb in between his lips as the slowly toys around with the interlocking mechanisms of the mechling's squishy nub. Eventually pulling the rod out and taking the ring off, careful to pinch the base, ensuring that Prowl doesn't get to cum ahead of time. Then he starts teasing the tips of his digits into the rim around the spike housing.

Prowl was basically sobbing around his finger by that point, and he shifts their position a little, moving them onto their side so that Prowl's jaw rested against his breastplate. He pulls his thumb out, and opens his chestplates to offer a nozzle instead. Prowl latches onto the nipple instinctively, head all floaty and fuzzy, obediently keeping his calipers nice and tight around the thick plug in his pussy while his daddy tinkered with his cocklet.

Once he deems it adequately stretched, Springer starta pushing the mechling's spike inwards. Slicking each telescopic mesh pleat over the other with his precum, until its practically flush against the housing. Then he lines his own cock over the circlet, and starts pushing in. Prowl trembles violently as the pressure on his compressed spike mounts, but he holds on to his sire, lips wrapped around his milky. Taking his daddy's cock as it violated his cocksheathe without complaint, like a good mechling.

It felt wrong and a stung a little, but he'd been stretched so well, he can't help but whine from how good the ache felt as that fat cock burrowed deeper and deeper into his core from that unusual angle. Then, they feel it. The snap as the spike's pressurisation mechanism twists inwards, inverting all the mesh pleats at once. Breaking it.

Prowl cums with practically every thrust after that. Squirting uncontrollably in both holes as Springer fucks a new pussy into his array. Before his processor glitches out from all the pleasure, he wonders if Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would be more willing to see eye-to-eye with Springer from now on. Now that he doesn't have to contend with the pressure of being something he's not anymore. Its so much better to be a cute little fuckhole for his daddy and his mentors, after all-🔌

god yes... prowl wanted to show daddy just how big of a slut he is, so springer really turned him into one.

[misfortunekeep]

Hmm, the inkblade thirst came back to rear it's head for a hot minute

Fig decided one day that she wanted to have badass shiny hair that just glistens under the multi-colored lights so that they look like jewels were on her hair every time she moves when they play and she decided that Grog was gonna get the same hair treatment cause they're bandmates and they need to match. For the brand.

Fabian, as a sexy, badass, pirate, oracool of dance, half high-elf jock performer, he shall not be outdone by the shiny hair competish.

It is unfair, however, if he uses his riches to get the best products while his rivals don't (they don't have time to research the perfect haircare routine) so he took it upon himself to have their hair analyzed and set up a haircare routine they shall religiously follow and he shall win by pure will and because he is Fabian Aramias Seacaster and he shan't be outdone! This is not a ploy to have haircare dayouts with his friends, no, never! How dare you even consider!

Cue Adaine's almost faded sunshine hair to turn into the closest thing to golden it could possibly be.

Oisin notices how her hair slowly gains more color, how it looks healthier- more shiny and less greasy.

Until one day he clocks it. Her hair has turned gold.

Oisin is in distress.

He is in so much distress. Adaine is already so engrained on his being after their whole "I tried to sacrifice you to a God/ I killed your entire clan" debacle but with that golden hair, his draconic instincts would instantly latch on it and suddenly he can spot her a mile away.

He swears she's done it on purpose, certain that she knew it would distract him which would bring his academic performance into an embarrassing low.

Was it not enough that her eyes resemble the sapphires he hoard and the storms he loves? Must her hair be the exact same shade that his ancestors demand he takes for himself?

It's unbecoming, unadvisable, most likely a crime, to take your (Adversary? Friend? Crush turned enemy turned crush again except you have no right after what you did?) former classmate to hoard away because her hair look like gold.

Not even real gold at that!

The embarrassment!

He let it slip one day that her plan of distracting him with her new shiny golden hair won't work and she clocked that bit much to his dismay.

He nearly had a simultaneous heart attack and aneurysm when she came to school one day covered in gold accessories.

Gold headband, gold hair clips, gold rings, necklace, earrings, bracelets, anklets, belt, pen??, her freaking frog in a gold collar?!

He had to fight his instincts with every fiber of his being from simply stalking to her and hoard all that gold look no one is even trying to take it just nab her quick-

Adaine had to stop when there was truly a notable decline in his grades and performance (she saw him stare at her hair and not blink for a solid 5 minutes), Oisin refuses to talk about it.

He so badly wants to crawl into a hole and hide when she smirks at him or just give in and hoard her let's see who's going to be smug then-

Adaine continues to spite him by taking better care of her hair.

Oisin learns to handle his instincts some more.

No one can touch her hair without him appearing out of nowhere to stop it (he believes himself inconspicuous, the numerous videos his friends of him says otherwise).

Just cause he can't keep her hair doesn't mean anyone can touch it.

Someone learns that if they want Oisin, they could just try to touch Adaine's hair and he would suddenly materialize.

Adaine swears he put a motion sensor on her hair.

Oisin near lost his mind when he realized the reason he became testy on some days was because he did not see part of his hoard.

He almost combusted when he realized he claimed her hair as his treasure- and by extension, Adaine.

[storm-angel989]

Valentino x daughter reader how would he react to reader sneaking out then coming home in the middle of the night drunk and how would the rest of the vees react. Also don't forget to drink water love!

Hi!

I actually think I have a double of this request, so I'm writing two different stories so I can answer both requests <3

Here is the first one! Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

Being Valentino’s daughter wasn’t easy.

Sure, my Aunt and Uncle were Velvette and Vox- and together the three of them made up the most powerful overlords in all of the Pride ring. 

But being Valentino’s daughter meant that everywhere I went, I had an escort. Which meant misbehaving as a general rule was greatly frowned up, if not proactively prevented. It meant wearing a VoxTech watch and clothes that were almost certainly bugged and tracked- just in case.

Many demons want to hurt us, mi amore, my father explained to me when I was little. We just want to make sure you’re safe.

At age five, those safety features came in handy. All my teachers bent over backwards to be nice to me- especially after I hit Vox’s face on my watch for the first time and he came raging into the school. At age ten, it meant birthday parties under the watchful eye of either one of them, or a body guard. At age thirteen, it meant my friends group kept secrets to include me in the latest parties. And by sixteen, I had perfected the art of sneaking out of the tower at night.

But maybe not the art of sneaking back in. 

Somehow, I found myself in the lobby of the V tower, the room spinning. Sure, I had been drinking, but not enough to get drunk. Never enough to get drunk. My Daddy had warned me early on to say no to drugs and to watch my drink. 

Carefully, out of view of my Uncle Vox’s cameras, I slipped into the elevator and hit the sixth floor button. Our flat was on the seventh floor, but if I entered on the sixth floor and climbed the staircase, I could sneak in a hellofalot easier. I leaned back against the elevator and sank to the floor as the lurch of the elevator knocked me off balance. As I heard each floor ding past, I giggled to myself. 

The door opened and I slowly made my way towards the back of the dark flat. I wasn’t technically allowed in here but I wasn’t…disallowed either. Was that the right word? Not like my Daddy’s studio where I wasn’t allowed, ever.

Slowly, I climbed up the stairs, pausing to catch my breath every few steps. The feeling of vibration, of the room spinning was getting worse. Wait! I had just the thing! I sank to the floor just outside the door that led into our flat and dug around in my purse until I found it. A shot of vodka, given to me by a boy at the party. What did they call it? Hair of the dog? What a silly name. 

I swallowed the contents of the bottle and pulled myself back to my feet as I pushed open the door. My stomach churned and I couldn’t tell if I was hungry or if I needed to be sick. Tiptoeing down the hallway, I made my way towards the living room. I just needed to get to my room, just a few more steps….

All at once, the lights came flooding on. I groaned and sank down to the floor for the third time. Shit. Had Uncle Vox installed motion sensor lights since the last time I went out?

“What are you doing Ninita?” my father’s voice growled from the elevator. 

“Daddy? Wh, why’re you awake?” I slurred. 

The feeling of the room spinning was worse now. I laid on my back and pointed my knees to the ceiling. 

“I’m just coming home from work. The better question is, why are you up? And what the fuck are you wearing?” He demanded.

He knelt down next to me and leaned his face down next to mine. I stared at the ceiling and swore I saw my Uncle Vox and Auntie Velvette looking down at me. But that would be silly, right?

“Daddy, why are you working so late?” I mumbled. 

“Have you been drinking?” Vox’s voice demanded.

“Sure looks like it,” Velvette’s voice chimed in.

“And smells like it. Alright, let’s get you to bed little girl,” my father’s voice said firmly. “Or at the very least on your side.”

“I haven’t been out, I swear!” I half yelled as my father pulled me to my feet. I felt myself pitch forward and his arms caught my waist.

“We don’t care where you’ve been, can you tell me what’s in your system at least?” Valentino asked as he half carried me to the bedroom. “Vel, I need you to…get her into pjamas or something.”

“Vodka! Oops. I mean, soda. Rum! Coke?” I answered with a giggle. “The good stuff.”

“The drug or the drink?” He asked as he sat me on the bed. 

I felt his fingers under my chin and I giggled as I fell to the side. 

“I’m going to assume the drink,” he mumbled. 

I watched him step back and turn away. Velvette stepped forward and the next thing I knew I was in my pajamas on my side. All the sudden, the joy I felt went away, replaced by an ache in my belly. 

“Who wants to babysit?” I heard Valentino ask.

“Daddy? I don’t feel good,” I mumbled.

I felt hands lift me upright and my head rested against the plastic of the garbage can. 

“That’s right ninita, get it all out,” I heard my father mutter. “Vel, can you braid back her hair? And Vox, go downstairs, grab an IV kit so she doesn’t wake up with…”

“No, Valentino. Don’t baby her. I mean, don’t let her die but let her suffer the consequences of a hangover,” Vox replied. “Let her wake up feeling shitty.”

“Vox is right, you know, maybe it will make her less likely to do it again,” Velvette added. 

“I think I’m good! Gimmie the…gimmie the IV Daddy,” I lifted my head up.

Valentino gently wiped my mouth. “I think it’s time for bed, ninita. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“Daddy I’m fine! I’m…” I leaned over the garbage can as more liquid came up. “Ugh…my tummy hurts.”

“Yeah, it’s going to,” he muttered. “Just get it out of your belly.” 

The next thing I knew the sunlight streamed through the window. Every part of my body ached and I groaned at the aching in my head. 

“Good morning sunshine! Nice to see you’ve finally joined the world of the living!” Vox’s too loud voice echoed in my bedroom.

I cringed. “Ow, Uncle Vox turn the sun off.”

“Aw, baby does your head hurt? How’s that tummy feel? A little nauseous?” He asked. “Here, I’ve got two pills and a red gatorade for you. Down they go. When you’re ready, I’ll make you toast.”

“What happened? Where’s dad?” I muttered as I took the proffered medicine. “Ugh, my head. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“You’re the one who decided to drink last night,” Vox said lightly. 

“I need a shower,” I grumbled as I swung my legs off the bed. I stood up and the room spun. I felt Vox’s hands hold me for support. 

“Let’s get you hydrated before you go solo, com’on. Out to the living room,” he said.

I flopped on the couch and closed my eyes. Fucking hell, was this what a true hangover felt like? God, I never wanted to drink again. 

“Not feeling too good, hm mi amore?” My Dad’s voice floated across the livingroom. 

I felt his hand on my forehead. “No, Daddy, I don’t.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before trying to sneak out,” he said lightly as he pushed back my hair. 

I felt a cool cloth cover my forehead and eyes and let out an exhale. “Ah, Daddy that feels good. You don’t have to worry about me sneaking out, I’m never drinking again, I swear.”

“If you change your mind, I promise getting out will be a lot harder next time,” Vox’s voice added. 

“Just make the pain go away,” I begged.

“Sorry sweetheart, time is the only cure. But we can discuss your consequence when you’re feeling better,” Valentino replied. “Until then, might as well close your eyes.” 

I groaned. “You’re the overlord of lust and depravity, don’t you have a magic cure or something?”

I heard him laugh. “Oh sweetheart. This is one lesson you have to learn on your own.”

[evelynwinters1]

Yan!BSD character imagines + Yan!Fyodor oneshot at end

Dazai:

I can imagine a scene from Heathers, but instead of him finding you hanging and choosing to blow up the school only to see you alive, he would most likely abduct you and blow up the house he keeps you in with him and his delusional obsession.

Jouno:

Just give up. You are never getting out. He would find reasons to skip work if he has to. (It wouldn't matter how petty the reason) He would go lengths farther than the sun to simply stay in your presence. I can see him in an entirely different room (probably across the house even) eavesdropping on you whispering your plan of escape to yourself. How amusing.

Ranpo:

Another one you should give up escaping from. He has already deduced your plan of escape whenever and however you try to do it. He also knows where you will go if you do manage to escape and is waiting for you when you get there. I can see the reader/ yn trying to buy their escape by bribing ranpo with sweets and snacks at first, but he already seen through this method a while ago and went to go refill his stash. (Most definitely got you anything you may need with it)

P.s. I am still laughing at the thought of the cashiers face when he gets a mountain of snacks and pads/tampons and/or condoms. Shooketh!

Atsushi:

Would make sure you never suspected anything. This lovable idiot would turn full paranoid phsycopath and back again depending on if you were around or not. I can imagine him two-facing you and the detective agency. The agency sees his obsessive paranoia while you see his clingy side.

Chuuya:

Would definitely keep the anger issues (Yes. Even around you.) The main difference would be the direction of what he's angry at. The mafia - as usual. You - trying to escape. I can see a moment when you do escape, after seeing him activate his gift, you would be so terrified to leave him ever again. The sheer amount of strength it would take to not rip you in half with his gift would be immense. Very possessive. Chihuahua.

Mori:

(Now hear me out, I know that a lot of people would rather see him dead. But . . . . Yes.)

More platonic than the others, but equally as obsessive. Would make a secret room off of his main office that only him and Elise would ever know about. No one is to deliver food to you no matter how trusted the individual is. No one is to visit you other than him and Elise. No one will hear about you, let alone see you. Your very existence is hidden from everyone but Mori and Elise. I can see him putting motion sensors in front of the door to his office that notifies him when someone is near (like a ring doorbell but without the camera. He doesn't need it 'cuz no one will know about you anyway.)

Nikolai:

Would definitely have something I like to call the "house of mirrors" complex. Everything that happens to you is simply your fault. But it's completely okay because look how beautiful and special you are! Would convince you that you wanted it.

You wanted him to kidnap you, why else would you make yourself look so vulnerable? You wanted to be punished, why else would you try to leave him?

That kind of thing. A ton of gaslighting. Punish, pretend, praise, repeat.

His perfect doll.

Sigma:

Let's be honest, even as a yandere, he is still a cinnamon roll. Sure, he'll kidnap you, lock you in a room with plenty of space and light (only he would have the key), and put a chain around your ankle that the other end was bolted to the floor. But you would have a walk-in closet, a full bathroom with any necessity you could dream of, a king-sized bed (possibly a large vanity), a desk always stocked, and him.

He would give you meals that he had prepared and cooked personally. He would be at your every beck and call. It didn't matter what you needed, as long as he deemed it safe for you to have, he'd give it to you. Anything from around the world. The price didn't matter, you did.

Edgar:

His muse. Everything about you, whether it be physical or not, was enchanting to him. Even Ranpoe got jealous of his attention being on you. After all, he almost completely gave up contesting with his so-called rival. A good portion of his poems were based on his muse. He didn't need to kidnap you per sé, you waltzed in yourself. Exited that you finally tracked down your favorite author for nothing more than an autograph. (One would almost think you were the stalker)

His shyness and anxiety were key factors of him nearly panicking when he first met you. In time, however, he warmed up to you. Arguably faster than he would like to admit. You would visit him several times after finding him and try and get to know him.

I can imagine when he finally acknowledged his infatuation with you, he asks you if you could get something out of his room for him, telling you that it's a gift for you and he wants it to be a surprise. When you enter and start looking around for anything that stuck out to you, he closes and locks the door. Karl was also in the room with you to serve as both emotional support and security. But you didn't need to know that.

Fyodor:

!!warning!!: kind of cringe, written in a hurry, stalking, mentions of death, manipulation!!

For those of you who bothered to read this whole thing and reach the end, you are in for a treat. Because yandere fyodor wouldn't be as impatient as the others. Obsessed, yes. But impatient, absolutely not. The final result would collapse if he was.

He loved watching you live your daily life through the miniscule cameras he placed strategically throughout your entire house, car, even where you work. How? He has his ways. Every morale any human has tends to be abandoned when he can show the world their darkest secrets with the click of a button. Your boss was no exception. Living on your own was a pain sometimes. Most cleaning couldn't get done until about a week later because of exhaustion. Most of the time, when you got off of work, you'd simply crash in bed. As much as Fyodor loved watching you sleep, he worried a lot about you. Mainly not eating enough (if at all), and if you did, it was mainly cup noodles, canned food, or the occasional leftovers of food you bought during your break at work. He was going to wait until you nearly reached poverty. To be your savior, and casually press himself into your life and your heart. This method (according to his calculations) took the least effort, but the most time. It also raised the chance of success. When he finally gets to you, he will play innocent. He will tell you that he knew nothing about you but get you your favorites. All to paint himself as the perfect ideal man to you. Your soulmate even.

On a walk with him late at night, you both happen to run into a man you now know as Dazai. You could immediately sence Fyodor tense. He made it seem like you both were simply too focused on each other to see where you two were going and briskly guided you back home. You looked for Dazai wondering why it was fyodor tensed so quick (he never did explain why when you asked him), and you ran into him on your way to the post office where he introduced himself. He seemed a bit quirky but hilarious sometimes. That was until he asked about Fyodor. Without much thought, you told him about the start of a relationship between the two of you and how you met. Dazai looked absolutely shocked, told you about his work, where it is, and invited you to talk about 'the details' of Fyodor's identity. The two of you went your separate ways.

You came home to find it devoid of presence. Fyodor left. Given that it was a bit dark out, though illuminated by a full moons light, you read a book on the window seat in the bedroom with a cup of tea till the early hours of the day when you finished it and realized. Work. You had work in 30 minutes.

Fyodor was watching you through the cameras again. He couldn't help but chuckling at his darling, frantically getting ready for work (only halfway succeeding) after losing track of time reading with the forgotten cup of half drank tea. He found it so adorable that you had gotten so immersed in the book he had given you not long ago. Calming down from his fit of giggles, he got back on track. Elimination. Either Dazai needed to die or his darling needed to disappear. He wasn't going to kill her, no. He was going to erase everything, even hinting at her existence. All except her. He'll deal with the details later. He needed to choose quickly before that devil got any ideas. Neither option was simple. In fact, both are quite tedious in nature. Killing Dazai would risk having to kill the rest of the agency and possibly the port mafia. Getting rid of all but you yourself would mean not only would she have to lose both her job and her house, but possibly her entire family as well. Killing them would be the simplest because it would count as a burglary if the pictures of her and past possessions were stolen. He knew that he himself could very easily delete any and all documents the government has on her. All he needs is pawns. Maybe he could "cash in a favor," as it's called. The chief justice should be a good start. It wouldn't take much convincing. Only a few pictures he has of the cheifs deeds will suffice.

And just like that, you disappeared by Fyodors' hands. He had to pull a few strings for living arrangements, but it was well worth the price. You now live in the most rural area you can think of. Not a house or road for at least a hundred miles and surrounded by trees. Yet, you still have no idea Fyodor caused this. You are the one who agreed to 'move into his place'. You are the one who resigned your job to be there. It's not like you knew that Fyodor set your place ablaze or made your boss' blackmail public after ridding your files or being the cause of your family's death.

After a few hours of reading in the enormous library Fyodor has, you hear the door open. In all his handsome glory is fyodor adorning his unshaka and a pure white faux fur cloak.

"Good morning, moya milaya"

P.s. Fyodor will remain my favorite BSD character 😊

[natalievoncatte]

cw: violence

Lena checked her watch. She only had a few minutes to pull this off, and had to time it perfectly. Lex was across town meeting with an investment consortium from Japan.

Officially.

She knew what he was planning. She just lacked the proof she needed. Once she had it, she would go to the media through her best friend and confidant, Kara Danvers. She had eyes on Lex right now as he met, in secret, with a Kasnian agent, the same one who'd help him orchestrate the theft of a prototype Lexosuit; that had been one of the first times that Superman had shut down one of Lex's schemes, and earned his undying hatred.

Lena needed the final piece of the puzzle before she involved Kara and pulled her into the danger of her private little war with her brother. This was so far beyond anything Lex had attempted that Lena knew now was the time, she had to stop him now, today. The line had to be drawn here, and no further.

The secure lab was deep in the bowels of the Lexcorp Tower in Metropolis; Lena made the excuse of a meeting with some of the research team working on battery enhancements for the upcoming line of Lexmobiles. (Lena had spent hours genuinely trying to talk Lex out of that god-awful name, and actually call them something marketable, but his towering ego was as immovable as it was monumental)

Lena's heart was racing as she stepped out of the elevator, carrying her briefcase under one arm. She strode down the hall like she owned the place (she did, actually- or half of it, anyway) and made sure anyone watching on the security feeds would pay her no mind. She'd worked here for years; even though she'd moved to National City to lead her own division, away from Lex, Superman, and all the drama, she was not an uncommon sight in this place.

Maybe here.

Lena stopped at the door, a heavy steel slab six feet wide and eight feet tall. Breath catching, she slipped her hand in her pocket and slid her finger through the ring she carried there. When she pulled her hand out, an image inducer created a perfect replica of Lex's hand around her own, projecting the unique contours and ridges of his palm and fingertips while simulating his pulse and unique vitals.

It was either going to work or it wasn't. She pressed the false hand to the sensors and waited. It beeped twice and turned a healthy blue.

The door let out a rush of cool air as it slid silently aside, its motion mirrored by an inner door of the same dimensions sliding in the opposite direction. Lena stepped through and removed the ring; the doors slid ominously closed behind her, latching with a heavy thunk as wrist-thick steel bolts slid home, anchoring them in place.

She knew that not only was the entire room lined with lead, but the lights could instantly switch to a red wavelength and the long sliding panels on the wall would open to reveal K-Radiator emitters. This room was designed to be a death trap for Kryptonians, should one be foolish enough to enter. That was why Lena had to do this alone.

Supergirl would rush in where angels feared to tread, and given the chance, she'd barge through those doors and end up helpless on the floor, at Lex's mercy to murder without witnesses. Or worse.

The lab was smaller than she expected, and Spartan. Despite her brother's notorious, arrogant grandiosity, he could be relentlessly practical when needed, and at heart was utterly ruthless. Lab benches lined the walls, and the computer was no different, visually, from any other workstation, though it was connected to a vast private database and would have very difficult encryption and security protocols that no one in the world could crack.

No one but her.

The far end of the room was dominated by a peculiar machine, resembling an incubation chamber of some kind, roughly human-sized and surrounded by thick steel cables and tubes, with several dozen monitors rigged up all around it, displaying all sorts of information.

Including biorhythmic data and vital signs.

Lena ran a hand over the steel of the external pod. It was warm.

Her throat tightened. This might be worse than she thought.

Turning to the terminal, Lena sat down on the stool and took from her bag a small portable drive and connection cable, setting them on the desktop in front of her. Lex had one of those drinking birds dunking placidly away at a glass of water on the desk, another bit of his peculiar humor. She'd once loved that about him, before his joking took on a mirthless, cruel streak.

Letting out a slow breath, Lena wiggled the mouse and woke the computer. It demanded a password, pass phrase, and passkey. The two she had, the latter was what the drive was for.

She typed BUCEPHALUS in the password field, then THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY in the pass phrase field, then clicked the cursor into the last box and plugged in the drive, and waited.

The program loaded automatically. If she made an attempt to brute-force the passcode, it would set off the alarms and possibly even trigger a deadly trap in this room. Lena had to crack it without cracking it; it took her months to create this algorithm, with the secret and begrudging help of Querl Dox at the DEO. He'd been concerned about it falling into the wrong hands; he was right to fear that, as it could crack virtually any system in seconds.

It did exactly that, filling in the require passcode. Lena clicked the LOGON button and let out a soft cry of relief as the screen lit up with Lex's desktop.

He had a series of folders waiting, just sitting there ready to be opened. The folders had names like LEXOSUIT, PARTICLE EMITTER, BINARY FUSION GENERATOR, SPATIAL DISTORTION CANNON, POINT-TO-POINT TRANSMATTER... and PROJECT GALATEA.

Lena opened that folder, and found a series of video files. She opened the first one, dated over a year ago.

Lex' face appeared, the man himself seated in this very lab.

"Mother stole Supergirl's DNA and used it to breach the Fortress of Solitude. She walked those hallowed halls, and didn't invite me! Not only that, she took only one device, when Superman's precious armory was right there for the taking! Is everyone a fool? Am I doomed to be surrounded by incompetents?"

He took a deep breath.

"It doesn't matter. There's enough of what she took left to comprise a viable sample... all I need is time, and I had that in abundance now that I've taken care of that nosy Gotham prosecutor that was working with Superman. He's too busy robbing banks to bother with me, and with the Metropolis police and GCPD in my pocket, Superman and that flying rat of his have nowhere to turn."

Flying rat? What the hell was he talking about?

Lena skipped a few files ahead.

"We'll call her Project Galatea. My initial plan -to create a limited-use drug that would produce Kryptonian superpowers- has been a failure. Nor was I able to successfully create a viable clone."

Lena's stomach sank. Clone? Clone? Had Lex tried to clone Supergirl? Was that was this equipment was for?

"Then it hit me- I could complete the project another way, by filling in the gaps in her DNA, but that still didn't solve all the problems. There was a missing component- I still don't know how Kryptonians actually absorb and process sunlight, for one. Still, that seems to be solving itself. Galatea's cells are absorbing the artificial solar energy that I'm pumping into her maturation chamber at a geometric rate. She might be even more powerful than her mother by the time she matures."

Lena jerked to her feet, a chill running through her body. Mother? Wait, did he mean-

Oh. Oh God.

Lena let the video drone on in the background as she moved back to the chamber. It was encased in steel plating, but it was designed to open. Lena found a pair of goggles on a work table near the control panel and put them on before flipping a switch.

The panels rotated, exposing a human form lying at an angle at rest on a padded platform. A respirator, like a flight mask, was strapped to her face, and she was submerged in thick, bubbling liquid. The chamber would have been too brilliant to look at, if Lena hadn't put on the goggles. It was flooded with brilliant solar radiation.

She'd put the inhabitant between ten and twelve years old, with golden skin and dark hair. Lena blinked a few times; it was like looking at an old picture of herself, actually.

For a brief moment, she just stared.

Then it hit her, and she almost vomited as she shoved the switch and closed the doors over the maturation chamber, stumbling back as she retched.

What did he do?

What did he do?

"I see you've met your niece."

Lena whirled, and found Lex staring her down, standing in front of the lab doors with his hands clasped behind his back, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"How... what... what the fuck did you do, Lex?"

"I think you've already pieced it together."

"Why?"

"Why?" said Lex. "I'll tell you why. Security. The security of a free state, sister. I did it because it had to done."

"This is... this is obscene," said Lena. "This is a violation, Lex. I'm not going to let you get away with it."

He laughed. "Get away with it? What do you mean, get away with it? What are you going to do, sue me for custody?"

"You... this is monstrous, Lex."

"We live in a world of monsters, dear sister," said Lex, stepping closer. "Gods and monsters, and who are we? Men, just men. There's whole universe out there, a multiverse, full of these creatures, and the human race is defenseless against them, and worse, they're being welcomed. They're eating of those Kryptonians' palms, you included, and now there are more of them. The green freak claiming to be a Martian. The so-called Amazon. There's seven or eight of them running around. Eventually it'll be twenty, then thirty, then more. They'll run roughshod over our institutions."

"You're out of your mind," said Lena.

"Am I?" said Lex. "Superman and Supergirl claim they fight for truth, justice, and the American way, right? What if their definition of justice doesn't match ours? What if they decide the American way isn't good enough? What if they decide they need to do more than pull kittens out of trees? Then what? Tell me, Lena, what happens if Superman decides to fly down tomorrow and tear the roof off the White House?"

"He wouldn't do that," said Lena. "I've met him, and I know Supergirl. She's saved my life a dozen times, and I suspect you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Lex shook his head. "Mother's extremism has always been a burden. I've done my best to protect you from her, Lena, and I've been honest about it. That's more than you can say for Supergirl."

"You kept this from me," said Lena.

"Until I was ready. I had to be sure that she was viable before I bring her out of the chamber and introduce you. She's going to be part of the family. Our long lost cousin, who we'll raise as a daughter, knowing that the Earth is truly safe now. That we'll have one of them on our side."

"This... this is Supergirl's child."

"That won't be a problem," said Lex. "It's time for you to grow up and let go of these fantasies, Lena. Supergirl doesn't have any interest in you. You're nothing to her, at best a beloved pet."

"I believe in her. We've worked together."

"I said the same thing about Superman. You know how close we were."

"It's not like that."

Lex's smirk turned cruel. "Isn't it? You've always had a type."

'Fuck you," Lena spat.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "You're not listening. I guess I have to prove it to you. Computer! Show her."

The droning video log of Lex discussing the problems of merging Kryptonian and human DNA stopped, and another one popped up, taking the entire screen. Lena almost didn't look, but her head turned inexorably and she watched.

"Kara?"

Lena watched Kara Danvers walking down a corridor. She stumbled, as something hit her back, twice. Whatever it was tore holes in her cardigan, and she turned around, standing tall. Taller than usual. She didn't move this time; it was as if little puffs of wind were blowing holes in her clothes.

Except they weren't puffs of wind. They were bullets; Lena could see the muzzle flashes, off camera.

"What... how..."

Kara yanked her glasses off and shook her hair free, ripping the cardigan open, popping the buttons, baring the sweeping crest on the chest of her her blue uniform.

"No," Lena whispered.

"I sent the men who shot her in this recording," said Lex. "Don't worry, I already knew; Mother told me. The alien confessed it to her, before begging her not to tell you. I wonder why."

The video ended.

"This is a trick. She wouldn't... she isn't... she's my best friend."

"No, she's your master and you're an obedient dog, heeling where she tells you, and if you aren't... do you know what happened to the assassins I sent to kill Kara Danvers?"

Lena swallowed. "Shut up, Lex. Stop talking."

He smiled, teeth bared in a wolfish grin. "The martian mind-wiped them. He uses his psychic powers to erase the memories of anyone who compromises her identity."

"Stop," said Lena.

"Ever have any... episodes?" said Lex. "Any of those days, where you were so busy your memory gets a little foggy? Ever find yourself back in your apartment without quite knowing how you got there? Are you sure your own memories haven't been tampered with, Lena?"

"Shut up!" she screamed.

"You've been manipulated, tricked, deceived. She doesn't love you, she never will, and you have nowhere to turn. Help me, Lena. Join me, and we can be a proper family again. We can put things right, and lead a free world to-"

Lena reached into her pocket and pulled out a nickel plated Smith and Wesson Ladysmith revolver with faux-ivory grips bearing Lena's initials. Lex gave it to her on her twenty-first birthday, and went with her to the range the next week to teach her to use it.

"Oh," said Lex.

Lena shot him. The blast was ear-splitting in the confined space, leaving a painful ringing in its wake. Lex crumpled, toppling onto his side as if his strings had been cut. Rolling onto his back, he stemmed the gushing of his lifeblood from the wound just below his ribs and looked at her.

"Didn't think you had it in you," he rasped. "Should have known you'd be the one. You can only count on blood."

Tears stung her eyes, blurred her vision. Lena held out the weapon, her grip trembling as she aimed at his head.

"You'll never stop," she choked out. "You'll kill her. She'll never be safe as long as you're alive."

Lex grinned, the corners of his mouth wet with blood. "Do it."

Lena's finger flexed, but the trigger felt frozen in place. As it shifted slightly, a flood of memories slammed through her- shooting lessons and chess games, strange idle fancies and muted conversations, long rides in the back of sedans. Lena's graduation, Lionel's funeral, Lillian's abuses, Lex standing between their father and Lena with a bruise on his jaw, warning the old man not to lay another hand on her.

A sob tore from her throat. She couldn't do it. She couldn't.

Lex laughed flecks of blood onto the floor.

"Go on, then. I don't need you. I have my own Kryptonian, and she's going to be daddy's little girl."

It was as if the rain suddenly stopped, the sun cracking open the clouds. The gun was terribly loud again, and Lena turned away before she saw the shot connect, looking away from the blood fanning out across the floor as Lex went silent and still.

Shoving the still-hot gun back into her pocket, Lena ran.

Thought I'd share a little bit more from the in-progress Curse of Strahd AU/Crossover!

[nonbinary-octopus]

recently, I purchased a small bluetooth mouse to assist me in my in-bed reading times. You see, I like to lie down and position my phone in a comfortable spot for reading, held in place by my blankets and sheets.

The only trouble is that this position necessitates a hand by the phone to scroll, but sometimes I would want to have my hands under the blankets, for warmth or just because the position out of the blankets was getting uncomfortable on my joints.

My wife saw a short video of someone using a bluetooth scrolling ring, and mentioned it to me. I desired it immediately and set out to purchase it. Unfortunately, however, I could not find the sort of ring my wife had seen; all I could find were rings intended to scroll through tiktok, and though I purchased one and tried it, it turned out to scroll more than a screen's height when I pressed the buttons, and was thus useless.

So I figured I'd try the next best thing, a very small mouse with a scroll wheel. I purchased the smallest bluetooth mouse I could find, connected it to my phone, and voila! I could scroll. Except, the cursor was visible. And if I shifted the mouse at all in my reading, of course the cursor would move as well. I would position it out of the way near the bottom of the screen, and it would gradually wander back up and be in the way again. I ended up sticking a bandaid over the sensor, which kept it in place.

Unfortunately, each time I connected the mouse to my phone, the cursor started in the center of the screen, so I would have to reposition it each time, and I didn't want to keep putting on and removing the bandaid, especially as the couple times I had done so already had caused it to no longer lie quite flat, and it was an irritating texture to touch.

So I set the mouse aside for a while.

Yesterday, I thought I would try it again, and with a new solution. I crafted a paper cuff that would slide up over the mouse, hiding the motion sensor so that it would stay still

This worked for a couple minutes. But it didn't fit snugly and kept shifting, and more importantly, I had to put it on after turning the mouse on and positioning it, and the mouse would respond to this by moving the cursor down. This might not sound like too much of a problem, but actually, if the cursor goes too far down, scrolling stops working because the mouse is no longer on the active window.

So I added another piece:

a thin strip formed into a loop, taped onto the base of the mouse such that I could fold it back and expose the sensor, and then fold it back into place rather than sliding, and then slide the cuff on. Additionally, the loop fit like a ring to hold the mouse without needing to grip it.

This worked very well! I used it for several hours with only minor issues.

However, those minor issues did exist, and I wished to improve the model further to correct them. Firstly, the cursor did still shift somewhat. This was due in part to the cuff being somewhat loose, and in part due to the paper covering the sensor also being the ring, so when I shifted my grip, it might shift the cover.

Secondly, it turns out that if I hold a mouse in one hand under my cozy blankets for long enough, my hand starts to get Very Tired of the texture of the plastic, and of the bits of tape I was touching—especially the edges. Touching the paper was still fine, however. So now I have version 3 of the mouse sheath:

First: a strip of paper, taped at the base of the mouse and coming up to cover the sensor. Second, a sheath which covers the entire mouse, not just a portion of it. It has a cutout for the scroll wheel. As a bonus, the first strip sticks out of the top, for easier removal from the sheath. Third, a loop taped onto the back of the sheath to stick my finger through. It is very carefully taped such that I shouldn't be touching tape on the inside of the ring, though there is some near it.

I shall be testing this version shortly, and will report back on its usefulness.

[lavellenchanted]

wip whenever

I was tagged forever ago by the ever wonderful @theawkwardterrier to share something I've written recently, which caused me to go through my WIPs and realise I really hadn't written anything that recently for any of them - so thank you for actually prompting me to sit down and write even just a little!

Now that I have done some recent writing, here is the start of the Clerith singer/bodyguard AU I've been noodling on and recently redrafted:

The house is not what Cloud’s expecting - so much so that he actually pulls up the assignment email on his phone to check that he’s definitely at the right address, and apparently he is. Or is it possible for there to be two addresses the same in Midgar? Most of the clients he’s been assigned to have had homes and offices that scream wealth and privilege, the kind of place that you only need to take one look at to understand why the people inside might want private security. This place, though . . . it’s a modest-sized house, tucked away at the end of a cul de sac. The sort of home that might belong to any average suburban family. Nothing about it suggests it’s the home of a celebrity - but then again, perhaps that’s the point.  “Hmmm.” Making sure his motorbike is resting firmly on its kickstand, Cloud swings his leg over and takes a few steps up the path towards the house, then glances back down at the email Zack sent him with the client profile and information. Aerith Gainsborough (stage name Maycomb Blume). Female, age 26. Singer-songwriter, who shot to fame at a young age when her first single, On Our Way, went platinum. Was initially signed to Shinra Records, but had an public and acrimonious split from the company and is now signed to Bronco Music. There’s a picture of her attached to the email, not that Cloud really needs it. He may not exactly keep on top of current trends or pay a lot of attention to celebrity gossip, but he would have to have been living under a rock not to know who Maycomb Blume is. Her music plays on the radio all the time, and there are often big billboard posters of her throughout the city whenever she has a new album or concert coming up.  He didn’t know Maycomb Blume was a stage name, though. That’s interesting. Slipping his phone back into a pocket, Cloud looks back up at the house again; he frowns, his gaze moving slowly over it all, looking for any existing security and making silent note of all the weak points. It’s set back from the street, which is a point in its favour, no butting up against any neighbours. There’s a camera by the door, at least one more visible at the side and what he guesses are motion-sensor lights, and a gate blocking entry to the back of the house, though it would be scalable if someone were determined. That’s all. Again, not what he would expect from a client of this calibre. The fact that there isn’t much tells him one of two things about her though: either she’s naive, believing the fact that she works under a stage name is enough to let her keep her privacy. Or she thinks it doesn’t matter.  The former he can work with. The latter will be a fight.  Cloud sighs to himself. Well, it’s not as if this is the first time he’s guarded someone who had otherwise limited security. It would make his job harder, but not impossible. With luck Miss Gainsborough would be open to taking advice on the subject. Schooling his expression to one of neutral impassivity, he strides up the path to the door - which he can do, easily, because there’s no front gate, no locks or codes, no camera or intercom. Just a paved path to the few steps up to the green front door. There is a ring camera, though it takes a moment to spot it because there’s honeysuckle curling its way around the doorframe and it’s partially grown over the doorbell. He rings once, and it’s a few moments before he hears someone call, “Coming!”, and then after another moment there comes the sound of a chain being removed and a key being turned in the lock.

I'm tagging @emilykaldwen, @apinchofm, @beachy--head, @manicmermaidbaby, @luxheroica and @fake-mouthstatic if they have wips they want to share!

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Jewel

Just pure cuteness. Not gonna lie.

Heist!Mark (Indigo) x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 518

“Indi, I’m not letting you steal things while we’re on a date.”

“Oh you’re no fun.”

He happily holds the door open for you to the jewelry store. You spin around, grabbing his hand as the clerk greets the two of you. He handles the conversation as you’re off in your head, admiring the suit that he decided to wear for this outing. He rarely wears things this fancy, so you decided to match him. Honestly it looks like the two of you are ready to go to someone’s wedding.

“What kind of jewelry were you hoping for, babe?”

Indigo pulls you out of your thoughts, making you laugh when you realize he probably caught you staring.

“Probably something on the simple side, maybe a necklace or a ring? I feel like a bracelet would get in the way at work.”

He raises an eyebrow, before it clicks for him. Yeah, probably don’t want a charm bracelet or something like that setting off motion sensors.

“I hadn’t even thought of that. Simpler it is.”

The jeweler shows off many pieces, and you can see Indigo’s fingers twitch at a particular pair of rings. You gently elbow him, reminding him that you’re trying to purchase these legally. He sighs, but points them out to the clerk. The tray is placed down on the glass case, and you’re able to see what he picked out a lot closer.

One of the bands is cast to look like a link of chain, with small diamonds at each of the conjunctions of the links. The second one is a similar design as a plain band with chain detailing on either side, with the diamonds set into the simple band. You can’t help but chuckle, of course he’d go for the ones that are a bit edgier looking. The two of you try them on, holding them up to each other. He takes this as an opportunity to hold your hand, smiling bright.

“I like mine, if you like yours?”

“It’s exactly what I was wanting.”

You return the rings to the clerk, and they begin to package them up in a pair of ring boxes and hand the bag to Indigo. He walks ahead of you to open the door again, mimicking your earlier spin to take your hand as you go back to the car. You can tell he’s nervous, fiddling with the bag handles as you take the short walk. He helps you into the passenger side, walking around to the driver’s side. Indigo avoids your eyes, looking into the bag.

“Indi? You okay?”

He looks at you, letting out a big sigh as he pulls one of the boxes out, popping it open to face you.

“Will you be my forever partner? In crime and in life?”

You gasp, beaming at him.

“Yes!!”

He blushes as you lean over the center console to kiss him. You hold out your finger as he slides it on, placing his on his own finger. He looks relieved, the happiest you’ve ever seen him.

“So… you think Thief could be our ring bearer?”

[miloscat]

[Review] Sonic Free Riders (Xbox 360)

They made hoverboards fun and exciting, then the fans made it actually playable.

After Zero Gravity, Sonic Team were apparently not done with the Riders series. Not done using it for motion control experiments, that is. The next and final instalment was a launch title for Microsoft's ill-fated Kinect motion sensor accessory. This camera apparatus could track a player's full body and so you needed a large, empty area to play your games in, which has never been practical for me. So I considered this game essentially lost media as far as I was concerned, until I recently learned about a mod that reworked the game for traditional controllers that I could use on an emulator. The updated version of this patch was buggy but the original release worked a treat and I was finally able to experience this title.

Compared to previous entries, the plot is very low-stakes. Eggman is hosting another racing tournament in disguise, shenanigans ensue. The cutscenes are merely static character portraits, the dialogue nothing but banter and posturing with the framing device of Omochao reporting on the racing for a TV broadcast. But the strength this has over prior Riders games is including a broader range of the cast, with Teams Rose and Dark being involved and playable in their own story modes in addition to the usual Heroes and Babylon stories. Well, Team Dark is missing Omega and substitutes a random eggbot who is more than it appears in perhaps the only notable story development. And Team Rose is Amy, Cream, and... Vector... so Team Sonic Racing wasn't the first to randomly force him in to fill out another team, or to have a weird addition to Team Rose.

As for the racing, from what I could tell from the tutorial, there's a lot of actions you need to be able to do. It seemed complex and the pace of gameplay quite fast for something you control just with various body motions to an unresponsive IR sensor grid. In other words, compared to Zero Gravity it didn't feel as compromised by the control scheme, and translated reasonably well to a controller, so it's a shame they never officially offered that as an option. The game reviewed terribly at the time on the basis of its controls, but with a pad in hand I had a fun time. Sure it was easy most of the way through, but by the very last stages it did even offer a decent challenge.

There's no drifting, but a heavy turn assist helps with cornering. There's a boost function that drains your air meter, as well as a "lean forward (tilt control stick up) to go faster" mechanic. Stunts are done in Zero Gravity style, by jumping at the right time off a ramp, although you can spin to do a better trick (not supported in the original mod release). Arm flailing is a factor, where you can lean to grab rings that are just off the course, throw items that skew a little more Mario Kart in their effects while still being unique, rub steam or splatter off your screen, or grab poles to swing around and take shortcuts. As a power character you can punch to destroy obstacles, and flight characters have to have arms outstretched to remain airborne when necessary. It sounds exhausting but all these functions are mapped pretty well to a controller in the mod, and I got to grips with them quickly. And while it may sound overloaded with gimmicks, I thought it was a better balance than the previous games of keeping up your pace while doing them, or being ignorable entirely.

It may sound like I'm being contrary but this quickly became my favourite of the Riders games. Because it expects you to be flolloping around, it's so much more forgiving and I found I wasn't constantly struggling against the game and its demands. It integrates a mission-like structure into the campaign so most of the time you're doing various objectives and single-lap runs of the courses in story mode, which moves things along at a quick pace. It also looks gorgeous, the environments varied and ultra-colourful, helped of course by being in HD for the first time. The tracks have fun setpieces like toboggan or minecart sections, jumping onto rooftops, or surfing while being pulled by a dolphin.

Free Riders kind of fulfilled the promise of what I wanted the series to be, for the first time. Fast-paced and bombastic, not overly punishing or bland. It's such a shame that that lively energy had to be locked behind an impractical peripheral gimmick. The assets were all there for a potential conversion or fourth instalment that takes the strengths but makes it play like a normal video game that people can actually play... but alas. As is often the case in the Sonic series, it was up to the fans to fix what Sega had broken, and I'm very thankful to Rei-SanTH for doing so in this case (please fix not being able to turn right on v1.1!).

[dr-octavio-kalev]

"You are welcome in hell, there are only parties, no one rents you. Heaven is full of believers annoying you and offering help."

ANM #: 135-XK - "Hillbilly Jack"

Danger Level: Infernus ⚜️ | Partially Contained ⭕️

Responsible Researcher: Dr. Öctavio Kalev

Anomaly Type: Rural, Demonic, Entity, Reality-Bending

Confinement: ANM-135-XK, hereafter referred to as "Hillbilly Jack," is to be contained within a 10m x 10m heat-resistant chamber located in the Rural Anomalies Department (D-11). The walls, floor, and ceiling of this chamber must be constructed with at least 30 cm of reinforced titanium and layered with flame-retardant materials. The chamber is to be monitored at all times by thermal sensors and motion detectors. Any deviations from standard temperatures within the chamber must be reported immediately.

Personnel interacting with ANM-135-XK must not stay within proximity for longer than 30 minutes to avoid exposure to dangerous heat levels. Under no circumstances should any religious materials, symbols, or references be brought into ANM-135-XK containment chamber without prior approval from Level 4 personnel. All religious discussions are strictly prohibited, as ANM-135-XK has shown to become highly antagonistic when provoked by such topics.

In the event of a containment breach, Department-11 is to initiate Protocol Hellfire, which consists of flooding the containment area with a specialized fire-extinguishing foam and deploying heat-resistant drones to re-establish containment. All nearby personnel are to evacuate immediately to prevent exposure to high temperatures or potential attacks.

Description: ANM-135-XK is a humanoid entity standing approximately 1,96m tall, resembling a stereotypical South American hillbilly, with several exaggerated physical features. ANM-135-XK possesses large, shaggy black hair, missing teeth, and weathered, leathery skin indicative of advanced age or prolonged sun exposure. Despite its appearance, the entity does not exhibit signs of aging or decay beyond its cosmetic features.

ANM-135-XK most notable features include pointed ears, resembling folklore depictions of supernatural entities, and despite possessing human feet, the footprints left by ANM-135-XK are cloven-hoofed and burn the ground where it steps. A pentagram is carved into the back of ANM-135-XK right hand, the pentagram is said to have been self-inflicted using a knife. It is unclear what the purpose of this symbol is, but it appears to enhance the entity anomalous abilities.

ANM-135-XK also wears a necklace composed of human teeth, though analysis of these teeth has shown no direct connection to any known individuals. It is unclear where or how ANM-135-XK acquired these. The entity also wears a plain white coat over a black shirt. Additionally, ANM-135-XK wears a black ring on its middle finger. Examination of the ring has yielded no anomalous properties, though it is theorized that it may be connected to the entity’s abilities. The subject also always carries a Bible with him, keeping it at his side or under his arm, he seems to work as a type of "false apostle".

ANM-135-XK communicates through a thick northeastern Brazilian accent, often utilizing rural colloquialisms and slang common in that region. Its voice is deep and raspy, further reinforcing its unsettling presence. Despite its often jovial and playful demeanor, ANM-135-XK displays highly erratic behavior, with a tendency toward sadistic humor and irreverence toward religious figures, symbols, and beliefs.

The entity was first discovered in Recife, Pernambuco, where it had been apprehended by a group of locals who attempted to hang it for heresy. ANM-135-XK responded by turning the rope into a sentient fire snake, which attacked the mob, allowing the entity to escape. The MOTHRA Institute tracked ANM-135-XK and successfully contained it after deploying specialized heat-resistant task forces.

Jack possesses the ability to conjure and manipulate fire at will. Its most frequent display of this ability is the "burning" of the path it walks on, which causes the ground beneath its feet to scorch and leave behind cloven-hoof-shaped imprints resembling those of a large goat. These imprints are highly dangerous, as they retain extreme heat for extended periods after ANM-135-XK has left the area. ANM-135-XK appears to be entirely immune to the effects of fire and extreme temperatures. Infrared scans show that Jack's body can reach temperatures in excess of 1700°C without displaying any visible harm or discomfort.

ANM-135-XK is constantly surrounded by a pungent smell of sulfur, which becomes more pronounced when it engages in its anomalous abilities. This emission has been linked to its fire manipulation and the sulfur’s presence in the surrounding air increases exponentially when ANM-135-XK becomes agitated or excited.

ANM-135-XK is capable of exhaling jets of fire from its mouth. These flames have been recorded at temperatures upwards of 1100°C, making them capable of melting most conventional materials. This ability is rarely used but is typically a response to perceived threats or provocations. While Jack's primary means of interacting with others involves humor and taunting, prolonged exposure to the entity has shown that it can influence the mental state of nearby individuals. This includes causing feelings of hopelessness, fear, and suicidal ideation. These effects are more pronounced when ANM-135-XK engages in religious mockery.

In interviews, ANM-135-XK refers to itself as "Satan," though it is unclear whether this is a literal self-identification or a delusion. The entity has repeatedly demonstrated a masochistic streak, encouraging physical harm to itself and showing enjoyment when such harm is inflicted, though it displays no signs of damage due to its high immunity.

Despite its chaotic nature, ANM-135-XK is highly persuasive and charismatic. It has convinced several lower-level staff to engage in activities that breach protocol, often leading to disciplinary action or worse. Researchers note that ANM-135-XK has a tendency to fixate on individuals with strong religious convictions, taunting and manipulating them into questioning their faith.

Addendum 135-XK-A: Incident Log 135-XK-???

On 27/09/2024, ANM-135-XK breached containment during a routine check, causing widespread damage to D-11. The entity escaped its chamber by generating intense heat, which weakened the surrounding metal and allowed it to melt through its cell door. ANM-135-XK roamed the facility, leaving a path of destruction and burning several personnel who attempted to contain it. After █ hours, Protocol Hellfire was initiated, successfully recapturing ANM-135-XK using heat-resistant drones. Casualties numbered at ██, with 15 suffering third-degree burns.

Following this incident, ANM-135-XK containment procedures were upgraded to include reinforced titanium walls and additional flame-retardant measures.

Interview between Dr. Strike and Jack Caipira (ANM-135-XK)

Date: 09/28/2024

Location: Containment Chamber D-11, MOTHRA Institute

Interviewer: Dr. Strike (specialist in anomalous objects)

Interviewee: Jack Caipira

Dr. Strike enters the containment chamber. The intense heat is immediately noticeable, and he adjusts his steps while observing Jack, who is seated in a relaxed, almost seductive manner in a corner, surrounded by a faint smell of sulfur.

Dr. Strike: Hello, Jack, my name is Arthur ██████. How are you feeling today?

Jack Caipira: Go screw yourself, Arthur. Now that the introductions are over, I feel almost at home, just in the heat of the fire. I’d rather be in hell, drunk on whiskey. And you, skinny guy?

Dr. Strike: Uh… that’s an interesting perspective. It seems like you’ve been to hell before. What do you think of heaven, then?

Jack Caipira: Heaven? I’ve been invited a few times before. It’s just full of boring people! Packed with believers who never stop singing. There’s always some fat old lady banging a tambourine next to you. It’s a complete joke! And those little angels in skirts looking like a bunch of... (pauses) well, you know.

Dr. Strike: (taking notes) So, you prefer the company of other beings from hell?

Jack Caipira: Well, of course! That’s where things get good. Even on the damn train, there are believers! They sing so loud it’s like they think God is deaf! No offense, but I find it absurd, doc!

Dr. Strike: Speaking of which... during some past incidents and your capture, we noticed your abilities… how would you describe them? Is it something you control consciously?

Jack Caipira: Control? Hell, that’s easy! It’s like blowing on a coal. When I walk, the ground heats up, and I leave my little marks. Burning is just my way of reminding folks I’ve been around. But don’t ask for a warm handshake either.

Dr. Strike observes Jack’s feet, noting the heated marks on the ground.

Dr. Strike: Are those marks down there dangerous?

Jack Caipira: Depends on who’s walking around here, doc! If it’s not you, it’s fine. But anyone who dares get in my way might get a nice hot surprise!

Dr. Strike: Got it. And what about that symbol on your hand, the pentagram? Does it have any special effect on you?

Jack Caipira: (raises his hand and looks at the pentagram) Oh, this? Just a reminder of how special I am. A little reminder that it’s not all fun and games, but I do enjoy a good laugh!

Dr. Strike: Can we just call you Jack? Or do you have a real name?

Jack Caipira: (laughing) My name’s Satan, nice to meet you. But on my birth certificate, it says “Adam.” I think I like Jack Caipira better, though.

Dr. Strike: I think we’ll need to investigate that more later, regarding your ability to influence others. I’ve heard rumors you can cause feelings of despair.

Jack Caipira: That’s just an extra bit of fun! It’s not my fault people are so sensitive. Sometimes I just like to see how they’ll react. Life is a play, and I love being the clown.

Strike hesitates, recognizing Jack's manipulative nature. He decides to end the interview.

Dr. Strike: Thank you very much, Jack. This has been a…

Jack Caipira: (waves) Always at your service, doc!

Dr. Strike exits the chamber, the heat diminishing significantly.

Interview 135-XK-2: Dr. Yanca and ANM-135-XK

Date: 10/05/2024

Location: Containment Chamber D-11, MOTHRA Institute

Interviewer: Dr. Yanca

Interviewee: Jack Caipira

The containment chamber is less oppressively hot after the last interview. Jack is lying down, reading his Bible, apparently humming something low and unintelligible. Dr. Yanca, a young researcher, enters calmly and professionally.

Dr. Yanca: Hey, Jack. I’m Dr. Yanca. Can we talk for a bit?

Jack Caipira: (stops, but doesn’t lift his head) Another doc? What do you want? The skinny guy couldn’t handle it? What do you want to know?

Dr. Yanca: We’re interested in hearing more about your story. In the last interview, you mentioned a name... Adam. Are you saying you’re the first man?

Jack Caipira: (smirking) Well, now things are getting interesting. Yeah, lady, that’s me. The first. Adam, the one God made from clay. But it didn’t go down like they tell it in those Bible stories.

Dr. Yanca: Can you explain that better? What really happened?

Jack Caipira: (laughs dryly) Ah, the Garden of Eden. Beautiful place, at first. It was green, everything perfect, but you know how it is. Things don’t stay pretty for long. God made us, me and Lilith, to be equals. She was fire, and I... well, I was what was left. But then came all the damn control, the rules. And I’m not a man to live in a cage.

Dr. Yanca: Lilith... Were you cast out with her?

Jack Caipira: (leans back, looking directly at Dr. Yanca) Yeah, lady. Lilith was my partner, the first. Forget about Eve, or whatever. We left that place before the story even got told. You know why? 'Cause Lilith wouldn’t take orders from anyone, especially not the guy ‘upstairs.’ And me? I just wanted freedom.

Dr. Yanca: And how does that connect to your... current nature? How did you become what you are now?

Jack Caipira: (glancing at the pentagram on his hand) After we left Eden, things changed. Lilith went her way, and I... well, I went to discover hell. You see, the world down below is more fun. I transformed, or maybe I was always like this. That thing the believers call 'sin'? It’s just freedom by another name.

Dr. Yanca: You call yourself Satan, but was that ever something literal? Or is it just a title you took on?

Jack Caipira: (shrugs) Oh, doc, it’s all the same in the end. Satan, Adam, Jack Caipira. Names are just names. In the end, I am what I am. But I love watching people try to figure out what the hell that means. It’s part of the fun. The important thing is, after Eden, I wasn’t going to bow to anyone anymore. I went to hell with my heart wide open.

Dr. Yanca: And Lilith? Is she still with you?

Jack Caipira: (his smile fades for a moment) Lilith... she’s different. She has her own path, her own power. It’s been a long time since we crossed paths, but I know she’s out there, free, like she always was. A woman like her doesn’t get tied down. Not even to me.

Dr. Yanca: That would explain why you seem to have so much disdain for anything related to God or heaven. It seems like this rebellion is more personal.

Jack Caipira: (laughs loudly) Oh, now you’re starting to get it! All that talk about God, about heaven, that’s not for me. I tried it, I went there, did what I had to do... But in the end, what’s left? An eternity of boredom, surrounded by annoying believers. I prefer the heat of hell and the company of fire.

Dr. Yanca: (pausing to write) So, do you feel like you were... wronged?

Jack Caipira: Wronged? (laughs again) That’s for people who believe in justice. I don’t give a damn about that. I did what I wanted, and I’m still doing it. But they kicked me out because I refused to play their game. I didn’t want to be the obedient man, you know? The rest is just history.

Dr. Yanca: Jack, this view... it seems like your relationship with God and hell is more complicated than just simple rebellion.

Jack Caipira: Complicated? Maybe, doc. But in the end, what matters is freedom. Lilith understood that before anyone else. I just followed the path. The difference is, I have more fun with it.

The heat in the room seems to rise as Jack talks about his expulsion and Lilith. The smell of sulfur intensifies.

Dr. Yanca: You seem to take pride in what you’ve become.

Jack Caipira: (with a devilish grin) Oh, lady, of course I do. In hell, we don’t apologize. We party. That’s where I belong. And you know, one day, the heat’s coming for everyone, I just speed up the process.

Dr. Yanca: Thank you for sharing your story, Jack. I’m sure it will help us understand you better.

Jack Caipira: Anytime, doc. I’m always here if you need me, and I’m especially hotter in bed, by the way…

Dr. Yanca slowly exits, feeling the increasing heat as the door closes behind her.

Interview 135-XK-3: Researcher Yohan-san and ANM-135-XK

Date: 10/15/2024

Location: Containment Chamber D-11, MOTHRA Institute

Interviewer: Dr. Yohan-san

Interviewee: Jack Caipira

The containment chamber feels more oppressive than in previous interviews. The heat is nearly unbearable, and the smell of sulfur saturates the air. Jack is restless, tapping his feet on the floor, eyes fixed on the wall. He’s clearly not in a good mood. Dr. Yohan-san, a middle-aged researcher with a calm and reserved demeanor, cautiously enters the room.

Dr. Yohan-san: Good afternoon, Jack. Are you in the mood to talk today? We've noticed your behavior through the cameras.

Jack Caipira: (growling, not looking at him) Haven't I said enough already? What the hell do you guys want now? And goddamn it, there are cameras in here! I can't even take a break without being watched!

Dr. Yohan-san: We don’t mean to bother you. We just need to understand better what you mentioned in the last interview. About other gods… and perhaps something bigger than you.

Jack Caipira: (turns sharply) "Something bigger"? (laughs sarcastically) Oh, that’s what this is about, huh? You all want to understand what’s beyond my little bonfire. You want to know about the 'devourer.' But I don’t know if you’ve got the stomach for it… Also, man, you're uglier than Lucifer after he fell from heaven, buddy.

Dr. Yohan-san: Take it easy. We’re here to listen. Can you tell us more?

Jack Caipira: (visibly irritated) Just more of God’s sick games trying to screw me over! Kicking me out wasn’t enough—he had to call in others. Other gods, creatures, entities… call them what you want. All of them trying to meddle and screw with what's left. But that’s where the devil steps in. Someone’s gotta help, right? Otherwise, I’d have been done for a long time ago.

Dr. Yohan-san: What other gods? Can you name any?

Jack Caipira: (shakes his head disdainfully) Name them? Oh, like you’d believe me. There’s the old man with the thunder, the woman of war, that one who lives in the sea… they’ve all got their games. But in the end, they’re just waiting for the real one. The one who’s coming to devour everything. 'Devourer of Worlds.' An entity that knows only hunger. Doesn’t matter what you do—it's coming. And the rest? They’re just parasites living in the belly of the beast.

Dr. Yohan-san: Are you saying that humans are like… parasites?

Jack Caipira: (angrily) Worms! That’s right. Living in the belly of that thing. Humanity thinks it’s in control, thinks it can save itself… but you’re all already living inside the monster. The only thing left is to be digested.

Dr. Yohan-san: And this 'Devourer of Worlds'… have you seen it? Is it coming?

Jack Caipira: I’ve seen it. Felt it move. Volcanoes explode in fury, spewing blood from this earth in misery. You think the fire I make is dangerous? Wait until that thing wakes up. Everything you know will be swallowed in an instant. There’s no salvation, no prayer that’ll work. Colossal beast, the union of all deep fears. It’s coming. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

Dr. Yohan-san: (pausing) You seem… afraid, Jack.

Jack Caipira: Afraid? No. I am the fire, doc. But even fire goes out when that thing shows up. It’s the primal hunger. No fun, no joke. Just destruction. Even demons tremble when they talk about it. Me? I just wait. Because I’ve seen what it can do. And I know neither God, nor the devil, nor anything can stop it.

Dr. Yohan-san: So you believe that the 'Devourer of Worlds' is inevitable?

Jack Caipira: (laughs, but without humor) Inevitable? It’s already here, right above us, just waiting for the right moment to swallow everything. While you lot are sitting around trying to figure me out, it’s growing. You’re just little flies, thinking you’re big while it prepares. When it wakes up, there won’t be anything left. Not even you.

The heat in the room intensifies, and the metal floor begins to glow with heat marks from Jack’s feet. He stands up, staring directly at Dr. Yohan-san.

Jack Caipira: You know what’s funny? You guys are trying to control me, thinking I’m the problem. But I’m just the warning. A joke before the tragedy. And when everything’s burning, when 'Kruzvisk' comes, you’ll remember what I said.

Dr. Yohan-san: We’ll conclude the interview here for today. Thank you, Jack, for sharing your insights.

Jack Caipira: No need to thank me, doc.

Yohan-san quickly exits the room, the heat nearly unbearable as Jack continues to radiate intense heat and energy. The door closes with a metallic clang, leaving Jack alone, muttering softly: "Destroy them all, Devourer of Worlds."

End of Interview.

Final Interview: Dr. Öctavio Kalev and ANM-135-XK

Date: 10/28/2024

Location: Containment Chamber D-11, MOTHRA Institute

Interviewer: Dr. Öctavio Kalev

Interviewee: Jack Caipira

The atmosphere in the chamber is dense. The air feels heavy, and the heat is constant, but much less aggressive than in the previous interview. Dr. Öctavio enters the room. Jack is relaxed, his signature mocking smile on his face as he watches the interviewer with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: Good afternoon, Jack. How are you feeling today?

Jack Caipira: Feeling? Well, doc, I’m feeling mighty fine! How 'bout you? Wanna play some Russian roulette?

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: I play Russian roulette every day, with a bullet called life. Let’s get straight to the point. I’ve heard you deal with contracts. Things involving souls.

Jack Caipira: (raising an eyebrow) Ah, so we’re finally getting to the good stuff, huh? Souls, contracts… those are always fun. People wanting to sell what’s most precious for a little edge here and there. Selling your soul is a classic. But you know what I always say? Always read the fine print before signing anything with me.

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: Let’s say I were interested in such a deal. What could you offer me?

Jack Caipira: Well, doc, you sure don’t waste time, do you? You wanna sell your soul to ol' Jack, huh? Well, I could offer you… (looks around theatrically) everything your little heart desires… (slowly rises from his chair, building suspense) Power, wealth, women, men too—why not? Wisdom… or maybe something even more interesting. But there’s a tiny problem.

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: And what would that problem be?

Jack Caipira: Your credit’s in the red, partner. Trying to pull a fast one on the devil? What’s this about you trying to cheat me?

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: (frowning) No soul? What are you talking about?

Jack Caipira: You didn’t know, big guy? You’ve been walking around without a soul, and you didn’t even notice. You’re trying to sell me air!

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: (irritated) That doesn’t make sense. I’m human. Of course I have a soul.

Jack Caipira: Voodoo’s for amateurs, my friend. A man’s soul ain’t as simple as it looks. But yours? Yours is long gone. You’re walking around, rotten on the inside, thinking you can strike a deal with me? Get real!

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: (trying to stay calm) So what happened to my soul, then?

Jack Caipira: Who knows? Maybe you lost it somewhere along the way. Made the wrong choices, followed some dark paths, and now you’re just a shell without the filling—worse than a cheap cookie from Paraguay. I’m not the one to tell you where it went. But I can guarantee it ain’t here, and it sure ain’t inside you (points at Kalev).

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: Do you have any idea how I could get it back?

Jack Caipira: (with a sly grin) Ah, doc, now that’s the tricky part. Once a soul’s gone, it’s a real pain to get it back. But I’ll give you a freebie, just 'cause I’m in a good mood: never sign anything without reading the fine print. Especially with me. You’re so desperate you didn’t even realize what you’ve already lost.

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: So there’s nothing I can do?

Jack Caipira: (shaking his head disapprovingly) Well, there’s always a way out, big guy. But are you willing to pay the price? Some things are irreversible. And if you’re without a soul, maybe that’s for the best. Look at you—you’re still here, standing, doing your work with all your machines and research, without that burden the rest of humanity carries. Why complicate things further?

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: You really don’t care about what happens to the souls you buy?

Jack Caipira: (shrugging) I care about them about as much as a butcher cares about cows in the pasture. I do my job, give what I promise, and in the end, someone always loses. But it ain’t me. The funny part is watching how humans will do anything for a contract, for a little bit of power. But when the bill comes due, it’s all tears and gnashing of teeth.

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: You mentioned "fine print" in your deals… how many have fallen into that trap?

Jack Caipira: More than I can count. Every deal’s got a catch, a little twist. I’m clever, doc. No one gets one over on me. And the best part? They always come running, thinking they’re making the best deal of their lives. Voodoo, spells, magic… it’s all for those who want to play god. But anyone who thinks they can outsmart me? Well, they’re already being stupid, friend.

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: I think I’ve understood enough.

Jack Caipira: I’m much more than you think, and you’re much less than you believe. Now get outta here, before the heat consumes you. And remember: next time you think about selling something, make sure you’ve still got something to offer.

Dr. Öctavio Kalev: Thanks for the chat, Jack.

Jack Caipira: (with a casual wave) Always a pleasure doing business. Too bad your credit’s still shot.

Dr. Öctavio Kalev exits the room. The door closes with a heavy click, and the heat in the room seems to ease as Jack smiles to himself, still radiating a dark, sinister power.

End of Interview.

[aerodaltonimperial]

Hi hello, almost kisses that are interrupted by a third party for junglecorpse pls 🥰

Nick has a singles match in his first PPV, and Shayna throws a party. It's good; Nick's worked his ass off for this, and it's a huge honor to get somethin' like that so damn young. And mostly, it ends up being an excuse to get a bunch of the roster that they like over and hyped up, and Darby can respect that. They deserve to have this happiness. It's been long enough, the house is too quiet.

And at least Shayna gave Darby some spots on the invite list. As many as he wanted, probably, because that's just what she does, but in the end, he only wrote one name down. She might not even really have noticed with all the planning, since she never said anything. He was reasonably sure she'd corner him and ask about it, given... everything.

There's quite a bit of booze. That's kind of a staple at shindigs like this, really. He's pretty sure Orange is on, like, his fourth beer already, and the man has barely even blinked. Fascinating. Darby weaves through the raucous laughter and Nick back pats and shop talk to get to the kitchen where he finds his guest of honor, sitting quietly with a Red Bull clutched between his palms like a lifeline.

"Hey," Darby says.

"Hey," Jack returns. He looks terribly out of place, but maybe it's the leather jacket and the aviators and all the bullshit he seems to enjoy so much lately.

Darby opens the fridge, stares at the rows of bottles and cans. Jack must've found one of Nick's stash, since the fucker is still underage. Darby ends up choosing nothing and closing the door again. "Having fun?"

Jack eyes him for a minute, a sardonic sort of smile on his face. "I, uh, I'm not really sure why I'm here."

That's an opening, and oh, Darby's great at taking those. He grins, arches his eyebrows, and asks, "You wanna see the ring out back?"

Another beat. Then, Jack says, "Sure."

Jack follows Darby out the back door and into the cool air. Seattle's kind of perpetually moist, the sort of place that's always holding just a little bit of rain in reserve. There's really only the one motion-sensor torch between the back door and the garage, and it clicks on as they pass, flooding the grass with yellow. Darby pulls open the door and only hits one of the mounted lanterns, so it's still fairly dark inside.

"This is it, huh?" Jack asks. He makes a circle within, but the ring takes up most of the available space.

"This is it," Darby agrees. He watches—mostly because the way the light catches on Jack's stubble beard is enticing, and the way the man turns, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, bears some of his discarded personality traits. It's hard to describe him as soft now, but Darby can still see the tendrils of it when he squints. "Spent a lot of time here."

Jack's gaze flits to Darby's face. "Does everyone get a tour?"

"Nah," Darby says, and grins. "Just the lucky ones."

Jack goes to the apron and raps his knuckles on the ring surface beneath the ropes. He seems unsure, so Darby makes the decision for him. "Going up?"

That seems to be all Jack needs. He hops up and ducks between the ropes. Then he bounces a bit near the center, knees snapping. Darby follows him in. He's not dressed for this, with his sweatshirt and jeans, but neither is Jack, and besides, Darby doesn't want to actually fight the man. It's just intoxicating to be here with him, in this place. With no one else.

"You invited me?" Jack says, and it's not a question. Maybe he's catching on, if the way he's taken his hands out of his pockets and flexed his fingers is any indication.

"Well, don't read too much into it," Darby replies. "I invited Sammy, too."

Jack's eyebrows arch. "Really?"

"No. Fuck that guy."

Jack laughs: loud and bright, and oh, man, it's been awhile since Darby heard that. There's something about the way Jack laughs, too, that warms him from the inside out. And Darby lunges at him, tries to catch him off-guard in the tail end of it. Misses, but not by much, and Jack has to skip off to the side to avoid it.

"Kind of an asshole, you know?" Jack says. "You haven't talked to me in months, and then, what... you throw an invitation in here?" Jack drops, leg outstretched, and almost knocks Darby over when he swings it across the ring surface. "How badly did you want me to show up?"

"More than Trent," Darby replies. He grabs for Jack's arms, gets one for a few seconds before Jack wriggles free. "More than Ricky, for sure."

"Too easy," Jack says. "Try something harder. More than Sting?"

He ends up going down again, gets his legs around Darby's calf and topples him. At least Darby was sort of expecting that move; he hits the mat with both palms and flips, taking Jack over with him as he falls. Ends up on top of the man, knees on either side of Jack's legs.

"That's not a fair comparison," Darby replies, and fuck, he's breathing fast. His heart's stuck up in his throat, all swollen and clingy.

"Why not?" Jack asks, before aiming for Darby's shoulder with his elbow. If he'd hit, that might have really hurt, but Darby grabs his wrist, slams it down onto the ring. Gets his other hand, too, for good measure, and it probably sinks in slower than it should that he's got Jack's wrists pinned, hunched on all fours over the guy.

Jack's staring up at him, too, with those wide fucking eyes that gleam impossibly bright.

"Different categories," Darby murmurs, and their faces are close enough that he can feel the heat of Jack's hitched breaths.

"What does that mean?" Jack whispers. He isn't trying to get out of the hold any longer, but Darby can feel his muscles trembling all the same.

Darby leans closer, gets his mouth so it skims across Jack's jaw when he replies, very low, "I don't wanna kiss Sting."

Jack sort of groans. Sort of, because it's strained and not unhappy, and he shifts his arms just enough to slide their palms together, tangling their fingers. His eyes are so fucking dark and so fucking big, and he smells like a tang of aftershave, and all Darby wants is to lick his way into Jack's mouth, which he's nearly close enough to do, and Jack's got his lips parted, leaning up to meet him, and—

"Oh, goodness!" Shayna, from the entry. Darby scurries off of Jack's form as she's got her hands on the door. "I didn't know you were in here! I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Then she directs her index finger towards him, all business. "Ten minutes, Darby, and you bring him inside for a proper introduction."

Darby's never had a hard-on shrivel that fast before. He grimaces into his hand as Shayna struggles the door closed again, and Jack, the absolute shit, pushes up on his elbows. He's laughing.

"That felt like getting caught by your mom," he says, with the widest, most obnoxious smile.

"That was worse than getting caught by my mom," Darby moans. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Jack gets up onto his feet, and then holds his hand out to help Darby up. "You lack follow-through on the planning."

"Shut up," Darby grumbles, but he does accept the hand.

Jack pulls him up, and, without warning, keeps tugging, hauls Darby forward further. Gets their mouths mashed together with his fingers wrapped around Darby's, and he tastes like Red Bull. Darby does lick into the corner of his lips just to get a stronger burst of it. Fuck, he really loves the way Jack kisses his mouth apart, demands more just to pull away again.

"Come on," Jack murmurs, close enough that Darby gets the bristles of his beard dragging across his chin. "You have to go introduce me. Better make it good. What're you gonna go with?"

"An asshole," Darby laughs, and only half means it.

[shiorihyugawrites]

Steadfast Hearts

In the aftermath of global war, alliances are forged, and new bonds are tested. Dr. Tiana Belrose, a brilliant Androsian engineer, arrives in Paradis with cutting-edge technology, her country's hopes on her shoulders, and a guarded heart. Her brilliant inventions are the reason why Marley invaded and ravaged her country, but Tiana refuses to sit back and do nothing.

Assigned to be her personal guard, the stoic and battle-hardened Captain Levi Ackerman is known for his discipline, but as they spend countless hours together, he finds himself drawn to the woman he’s sworn to protect.

In the midst of battles against Marley, political intrigue, and the weight of their responsibilities, an unexpected romance begins to blossom between two unlikely hearts. As tensions rise on the battlefield and within their own ranks, Levi and Tiana must navigate their feelings in a world that doesn’t allow for weakness.

Love was the last thing either of them expected to find in the midst of war, but it may be the only thing that saves them. (Levi x Black OC)

Chapter Eleven

The workshop buzzed with the sound of tools and machinery. Tiana was in her element, her hands moving deftly as she adjusted the valves on a piece of ODM gear, her eyes focused, her mind sharp. Demetri stood beside her, his sensors scanning the equipment, providing precise feedback as she worked. Across the room, Isaac watched her closely, his gaze filled with admiration and a hint of concern. He was always near, always ready to assist, though today he seemed more vigilant than usual.

Levi, on the other hand, was a silent presence, leaning against the wall near the door. His arms were crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he watched over the workshop like a hawk. His eyes missed nothing; every movement, every sound, every slight change in the room was noted and analyzed. He was always on high alert, especially when it came to Tiana. She was, after all, a valuable asset, and they couldn’t afford to let their guard down.

Tiana adjusted a final screw on the valve, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Alright, Demetri,” she said, her voice calm but focused. “Run the diagnostic. Let’s see if we’ve improved the gas efficiency.”

Demetri nodded, his eyes glowing as he initiated the diagnostic sequence. “Running diagnostic now, Dr. Belrose,” he replied, his voice steady. “Calculating optimal gas flow efficiency…”

Isaac stepped closer, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look at the gear. “You’re really something, Tiana,” he said with a grin. “I don’t know how you keep all these calculations straight in your head.”

Tiana chuckled softly, glancing up at him. “It’s just practice,” she replied modestly. “And a lot of late nights with equations and coffee.”

Isaac was about to respond when Levi’s posture suddenly shifted. His body tensed, and his hand moved to the hilt of one of his blades, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. Tiana noticed the change immediately, her heart rate quickening. “Captain?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. “What is it?”

But Levi didn’t answer. His senses were on high alert, every muscle in his body ready to spring into action. He felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air, a presence that didn’t belong. He drew his blades with a swift, practiced motion, the sound of metal ringing out sharply in the enclosed space. 

“Get down!” Levi barked, his voice cold and commanding.

Before anyone could react, the door to the workshop burst open, and three figures in dark clothing lunged into the room. Marleyan spies—Levi recognized them immediately. Everything happened in a blur. The first spy made a move toward Tiana, but Levi was faster. He closed the distance in an instant, his blades slicing through the air with lethal precision. The spy barely had time to react before Levi’s blade cut through his neck, a clean, efficient kill. 

The second spy was on Levi’s left, aiming to flank him. Levi spun on his heel, his movements a fluid blur of speed and precision. He slashed downward, cutting through the second spy’s arm, severing it at the elbow. The spy screamed, but Levi didn’t hesitate—he followed through with a swift, merciless thrust, driving his blade through the spy’s chest. Blood spattered across the floor as the spy crumpled to the ground.

Isaac, reacting to Levi’s shout, had immediately pulled Tiana behind him, his eyes wide with shock. “Stay behind me!” he ordered, his voice tense.

Tiana’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She had never seen violence like this before—never seen someone killed right in front of her. The blood, the screams, the sudden, brutal efficiency of Levi’s actions—it was terrifying, overwhelming. She clutched Isaac’s arm, her knuckles white, her mind struggling to process what was happening.

The third spy, seeing his comrades fall, hesitated, his eyes wide with fear. But before he could even think of retreating, Levi was on him. He knocked the spy’s weapon from his hand with a swift kick and followed it up with a brutal knee to the gut. The spy doubled over, gasping for air, and Levi grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall with bone-jarring force.

“Who sent you?” Levi demanded, his voice low and deadly calm.

The spy coughed, blood trickling from his mouth, but he didn’t answer. Levi’s eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he brought one of his blades to the man’s thigh, pressing the cold steel against his skin. “I won’t ask again,” Levi said, his tone icy. “Who sent you?”

When the spy still didn’t respond, Levi’s patience snapped. With a swift, controlled motion, he drew his blade across the man’s thigh, a shallow but painful cut. The spy screamed, his body jerking against the wall. Tiana’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She had never seen this side of Levi—the ruthless, uncompromising soldier who would do whatever it took to get answers.

“Talk,” Levi ordered, his voice like steel. “Or the next cut will be deeper.”

The spy, his face pale with pain and fear, finally broke. “Alright, alright!” he gasped, his voice ragged. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk! We… we were sent by Marley. They wanted us to take her—take Dr. Belrose.”

“Why?” Levi pressed, his blade still poised for another strike.

“Because… because they know she’s valuable,” the spy stammered. “They know she’s smart—too smart. They think… they think she’ll create something dangerous, something that could be a threat to Marley. They wanted to take her before she could… before she could—”

Levi’s eyes were cold as he stared down at the spy, processing the information. He nodded once, then glanced back at Tiana and Isaac. Isaac’s face was a mask of shock and anger, his hands still protectively in front of Tiana, but his eyes were wide, his breath unsteady. Tiana, meanwhile, looked pale, her expression a mix of fear and disbelief.

Levi turned back to the spy, his gaze narrowing. “Is there anyone else?” he demanded. “Any more of you?”

The spy shook his head frantically. “No, no, it’s just us—just the three of us. I swear!”

Levi studied the man for a moment longer, then nodded again. “Good,” he said quietly. Without warning, he slammed the spy’s head against the wall, knocking him out cold. The spy slumped to the ground, unconscious but alive.

Levi turned to face Tiana and Isaac, his expression serious. “Are you both alright?” he asked, his voice steady.

Tiana nodded slowly, though her hands were still trembling. “I… I think so,” she whispered, her eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve just… never seen anything like that before.”

Isaac, his protective stance still rigid, looked at Levi with a mix of resentment and begrudging respect. “I didn’t even sense them,” he admitted, his voice low. “But you did.”

Levi sheathed his blades, his expression remaining stoic. “That’s why I’m here,” he said simply. “To keep her safe.”

Tiana swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing heart. She looked at Levi, her mind still reeling from the violence, from the swift, brutal efficiency with which he had handled the situation. “Thank you, Captain,” she said softly, her voice still shaking. “I… I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

Levi nodded, his gaze softening just a fraction. “That’s my job,” he said. “To protect you, no matter what.”

Isaac’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He knew Levi was right, knew that without him, things could have gone very differently. But it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

Tiana glanced between the two men, sensing the tension, the unspoken challenge between them. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Let’s… let’s secure the workshop,” she said finally, trying to regain some sense of control. “And figure out what to do next.”

Levi nodded, his expression serious. “Agreed,” he said. “We need to make sure this place is secure. We can’t take any more chances.”

As they moved to secure the workshop, Tiana couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions—fear, relief, and a new, profound respect for the man who had just saved her life. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but one thing was clear: with Levi by her side, she knew she was in good hands.

….

The tension in the room was palpable as Levi pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the debriefing room. The scouts were already gathered inside, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. Commander Erwin stood at the head of the room, his expression calm but alert, his sharp blue eyes fixed on Levi as he entered, Tiana close behind him. She was still shaken, her face pale, but she held her head high, trying to maintain her composure.

“Levi,” Erwin greeted, his tone serious. “What happened?”

Levi wasted no time. “Marleyan spies,” he said bluntly, his voice steady and cold. “Three of them tried to infiltrate the workshop and kidnap Dr. Belrose. Two are dead. The third is unconscious.”

A ripple of shock passed through the room. Eren, sitting near the front, leaned forward, his eyes wide with intensity. “Marleyan spies?” he repeated. “Here? Inside the Scout Headquarters?”

Levi nodded. “They were after Dr. Belrose,” he continued, glancing at Tiana, who stood beside him. “Marley knows she’s valuable. They think she’ll create something dangerous to them. They wanted to take her before she could do that.”

Mikasa’s eyes flicked to Tiana, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a rare gentleness.

Tiana nodded, though her hands were still trembling slightly. “I… I’m fine,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Thanks to Captain Levi.”

Erwin’s gaze shifted to Isaac, who was standing a few steps behind Tiana, his face still pale with shock and anger. “Isaac,” Erwin said, his voice commanding, “take the unconscious spy to a prison cell. Make sure he’s secured. We’ll interrogate him further once he wakes up.”

Isaac nodded, his jaw clenched, his eyes still burning with frustration. “Understood, Commander,” he replied. He moved forward, giving Tiana a brief, concerned glance. “I’ll be back soon,” he said softly, trying to offer her some comfort before turning to leave.

Levi watched him go, his expression unreadable. “We need to tighten security,” he said, turning back to Erwin. “If they got this close, they could try again. We can’t take any chances.”

Erwin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Agreed,” he said. “I’ll issue orders to increase patrols around the perimeter. We need to know how they got in and if there are any more of them lurking nearby.”

Hange, who had been standing near the back, stepped forward, her eyes alight with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Marley’s getting bolder,” she said. “Sending spies directly into our headquarters… they must be getting desperate. Or they know something we don’t.”

Armin, seated beside Eren, nodded, his expression serious. “They’re scared,” he said quietly. “Scared of what we might be capable of. And of what Tiana might create.”

Jean crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in thought. “What kind of thing do they think she’d make?” he asked, looking directly at Tiana. “Do they really think one person could change the tide of this war?”

Tiana shifted uncomfortably, aware of all the eyes on her. “I’m… not sure,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I’ve developed some advanced technologies back in Androsia, but I haven’t shared everything with them yet. They might be worried I could do the same here.”

Levi’s eyes never left Tiana, his gaze steady and protective. “Whatever they think,” he said firmly, “they’re not getting their hands on her. Not while I’m around.”

Eren nodded in agreement, his expression intense. “We won’t let them take you, Tiana,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “You’re one of us now.”

Erwin looked between Tiana and Levi, his expression thoughtful. “Dr. Belrose,” he said, his voice calm but commanding, “you’re going to stay with Captain Levi at all times for now. He’ll keep you safe. We can’t risk you being alone, not with the threat of more spies. Is that understood?”

Tiana nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “Understood, Commander,” she replied, glancing at Levi. She felt safer with him, despite the cold, calculating efficiency with which he had handled the situation earlier. She knew he would do whatever it took to protect her, even if it meant being ruthless.

Erwin turned back to the rest of the scouts. “We need to be on high alert,” he said, his tone firm. “Everyone needs to be vigilant. If you see anything suspicious, report it immediately. We can’t afford any more surprises.”

The scouts nodded, their faces set with determination. Levi turned back to Tiana, his expression softer now, though still focused. “Stay close,” he said quietly. “Don’t wander off.”

Tiana nodded again, feeling the weight of the situation settle over her. She wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable, this exposed. But with Levi by her side, she felt a little more grounded, a little more secure.

Isaac returned then, his face tight with frustration but his posture firm. “The spy’s secured, Commander,” he reported. “He won’t be going anywhere.”

Erwin nodded in approval. “Good,” he said. “We’ll need to question him thoroughly. Find out how they got in, who else might be involved.”

Isaac’s eyes flicked to Tiana, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “I’m sorry, Tiana,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret. “I should have been more alert. I should have seen them coming.”

Tiana shook her head, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Isaac,” she said gently. “You couldn’t have known. And we’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

Isaac nodded, though his expression remained troubled. He looked over at Levi, a mixture of respect and resentment in his gaze. “Thank you, Captain,” he said, his tone begrudging but sincere. “For protecting her.”

Levi nodded, his expression calm. “Just doing my job,” he replied. “But we all need to be better prepared next time.”

Tiana glanced between the two men, sensing the underlying tension. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity. “Both of you. I… I know this isn’t easy, but I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

Erwin stepped forward, his expression firm but encouraging. “We’re all in this together,” he said. “And we’ll get through it together. Stay alert, stay focused. And most importantly, stay safe.”

The scouts nodded, their resolve clear in their faces. Levi glanced at Tiana, his gaze softening just a bit. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Tiana nodded, following him as he led her out of the room. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her, the concern, the curiosity, the unspoken questions. But she knew one thing for certain: with Levi by her side, she felt a little stronger, a little more prepared to face whatever came next. And perhaps, just perhaps, she was beginning to understand the man behind the stoic mask—a man who was more than just a soldier, but a protector, a guardian, and maybe even… a friend.

….

As Levi and Tiana left the room, a heavy silence settled over the scouts. For a moment, no one spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. The reality of Marleyan spies infiltrating their headquarters was a stark reminder of the danger they were all in—a reminder that no place was truly safe, not even within their own walls.

Finally, Jean broke the silence, his voice low and tense. “So, Marley’s coming after our allies now,” he said, shaking his head. “They must be desperate.”

Eren, still seated near the front, nodded, his expression grim. “Desperate or smart,” he replied. “They know how valuable Tiana is. They know what she could do. They’re scared of what we might accomplish with her help.”

Mikasa crossed her arms, her gaze focused on the door through which Levi and Tiana had just exited. “They won’t stop coming,” she said quietly. “Not as long as they see her as a threat.”

Hange, leaning against the wall, tapped her chin thoughtfully. “And she is a threat,” she mused. “A brilliant mind like hers, with the right resources behind her… she could change the game. I can see why Marley’s worried.”

Armin, always the strategist, nodded in agreement. “We have to be smarter,” he said. “We need to protect our assets—Tiana, our technology, everything. If Marley thinks they can just walk in and take what they want, we need to show them they’re wrong.”

As the conversation continued, Isaac stood near the back of the room, his face tight with frustration. He was furious, a deep, simmering anger that he was struggling to contain. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white, his jaw set in a hard line. He couldn’t shake the image of Levi cutting down those spies with ruthless efficiency, the way he had stepped in and protected Tiana without hesitation. 

He hated to admit it, but Levi had proven himself. He had done exactly what Isaac had failed to do—sense the danger, act swiftly, and protect Tiana without a second thought. Isaac’s heart burned with jealousy, a mix of resentment and inadequacy swirling in his chest.

“I should have been the one to protect her,” Isaac muttered under his breath, his voice low but filled with frustration.

Jean, overhearing him, glanced over with a frown. “What are you talking about, Isaac?” he asked. “You didn’t even see them coming. Captain did. He’s the reason Tiana’s safe right now.”

Isaac’s scowl deepened, and he shot Jean a glare. “I know that,” he snapped. “I just… I should have been more alert. I should have been the one to step in, not him.”

Connie, standing nearby, shook his head, his expression serious. “Look, Isaac, I get it,” he said. “You care about Tiana. But Captain Levi’s the best at what he does. We all know that. You should be glad he was there. I mean, he saved her life.”

Isaac gritted his teeth, his frustration only growing. “I know,” he repeated, his voice tight. “But… it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Sasha, ever the peacemaker, tried to offer some comfort. “Hey, you did your best,” she said gently. “And you did protect her, in your own way. You pulled her back, kept her out of harm’s way.”

Isaac glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered. “But it doesn’t feel like enough.”

Eren, always direct, spoke up, his tone firm. “Captain Levi’s not doing this because he wants to show off or make anyone look bad,” he said. “He’s doing it because it’s his job. Because he’s the best at it. And right now, we need the best.”

Mikasa nodded in agreement. “We need to focus on what’s important,” she said. “Keeping Tiana safe, keeping ourselves safe. Captain’s proven he can do that. We should be grateful.”

Isaac let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew they were right. He knew Levi was the best person to protect Tiana, that he had done exactly what needed to be done. But it didn’t make it any easier to accept. He cared about Tiana deeply—more than he cared to admit—and seeing someone else step in, someone else be the hero, it stung.

Armin, noticing Isaac’s turmoil, approached him with a calm, understanding expression. “Isaac,” he said gently, “we’re all on the same side here. We all want to protect Tiana, to protect each other. Levi’s not your enemy. He’s just doing what he’s always done—what he’s best at. And right now, that’s what we need.”

Isaac nodded slowly, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know he’s not the enemy. I just… I just wish I could do more. Be more.”

Jean clapped Isaac on the back, offering a reassuring smile. “Hey, we all do,” he said. “But you’re doing fine, Isaac. We’re all in this together. And right now, that means trusting Levi to do what he does best.”

Isaac managed a small nod, though the frustration still lingered in his eyes. He glanced at the door again, his thoughts turning back to Tiana, to the way she had looked at Levi, the way she had relied on him, trusted him. He wanted to be that for her, to be the one she turned to, the one she trusted most. But maybe, for now, it was enough just to be by her side, to support her in any way he could.

As the scouts continued to discuss their next steps, Isaac took a deep breath, trying to push his jealousy aside. He knew he had a role to play, just like everyone else. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to prove himself, to show that he was just as capable, just as dedicated as Levi.

For now, he would wait. He would watch. And he would be ready, just like the rest of them, for whatever came next.

…

Levi escorted Tiana through the corridors back toward her room, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. The events in the workshop had put him on high alert, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down. Not with Marleyan spies sneaking into their headquarters. Not with Tiana as their target.

Tiana walked beside him, still trying to process everything that had happened. The sudden attack, the swift, brutal efficiency with which Levi had dispatched the spies—it was all so overwhelming. And now, as she followed Levi back to her quarters, she felt a mix of emotions: gratitude for his protection, a lingering fear of what might happen next, and a strange, nervous anticipation.

When they reached her door, Levi stopped and turned to her, his expression serious. “Wait here,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I need to check your room. Make sure it’s secure.”

Tiana nodded, understanding his concern. “Okay,” she agreed softly, stepping aside to let him enter first.

Levi pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning the space for any signs of intrusion or danger. The room was as he expected—small, with just a bed, a desk, a few shelves and Tiana’s personal decorations. But as his gaze moved over the room, he noticed something that made him pause.

Tiana’s room was… messy. Her bed was unmade, the blankets tangled in a heap. Her makeup was sprawled out across her desk, tubes and brushes scattered haphazardly. Blueprints were strewn across the floor, a chaotic mess of papers and sketches. And on her nightstand, glaringly obvious, was a book with a rather provocative cover—a spicy romance novel with a title that left little to the imagination.

Tiana, following Levi into the room, saw his eyes land on the book, and her heart sank. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she realized what he was looking at. “Oh, no,” she muttered under her breath, feeling mortified. She had been in such a rush that morning, she hadn’t even thought about tidying up, and now Levi—Captain Levi, the cleanest, most fastidious person she’d ever met—was seeing her room in this state.

Levi’s expression remained neutral, but Tiana could see the slight twitch in his eye, the way his hand flexed at his side. His gaze moved from the book to the makeup on the desk, then to the blueprints on the floor. She could practically see the gears turning in his head, his instinctual need for order and cleanliness kicking into overdrive.

Without a word, Levi moved to the desk, starting to tidy up the scattered makeup. He picked up a tube of mascara, carefully placing it back in its spot, then moved on to the brushes, lining them up neatly. Tiana stood frozen, watching him with a mix of disbelief and horror.

“Captain, you don’t have to—” she began, but Levi cut her off with a quick, efficient motion.

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, his tone brooking no argument. “I can’t focus if things are out of order.”

Tiana blinked, still flabbergasted. “But… this is my room,” she said, trying to sound reasonable. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be perfect…”

Levi glanced at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “A clean environment is a safe environment,” he said firmly. “We don’t know how they got in, or if there’s more of them. I need to be sure there’s no place for anything—or anyone—to hide.”

He moved to the blueprints on the floor, kneeling down to gather them into a neat stack. Tiana’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Not only had Levi seen her room in this state, but he was actually cleaning it for her. And then there was the book…

She glanced at the romance novel on her nightstand, feeling a fresh wave of mortification. The cover was bold, depicting a shirtless man holding a swooning woman in a rather dramatic pose. The title, “Passions of the Midnight Marquis,” was emblazoned in a flamboyant script, leaving no doubt about the book’s contents.

Tiana hurried over, snatching the book off the nightstand and trying to hide it behind her back. “I, um… I didn’t have time to put things away this morning,” she said quickly, her voice a bit higher than usual. “I was in a rush.”

Levi looked up from the floor, his eyes briefly flicking to the book she was trying to hide, then back to her face. “You should make time,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “A cluttered room is a distraction.”

Tiana swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. “Right, of course,” she murmured, feeling like a chastised child. She could feel her face burning, and she wished she could just disappear.

Levi stood, the blueprints now neatly stacked in his hand. He placed them on her desk, then turned to face her fully. “Anything that could cause a distraction should be put away,” he said, his eyes briefly glancing at the book she was still clutching behind her back.

Tiana nodded quickly, desperate to change the subject. “I’ll… I’ll take care of it,” she promised, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Captain.”

Levi nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’ll be outside,” he said. “Make sure you lock the door when you’re inside. And if you need anything, call me. I’ll be right here.”

Tiana nodded again, grateful for his concern, even if it was wrapped in his usual blunt, no-nonsense manner. “I will,” she said softly. “Thank you, Captain.”

Levi gave her a final nod, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Tiana let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her heart still racing. She looked around her now-tidy room, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and relief.

She glanced down at the book in her hand, the cover now half-creased from her tight grip. She sighed, placing it back on the nightstand, this time face down. “Well,” she muttered to herself, “that was… something.”

She moved to the desk, straightening the remaining items Levi hadn’t gotten to, her mind still buzzing with the events of the day. Levi had been so focused, so intense, yet there had been a softness in his eyes when he’d looked at her, a hint of something she couldn’t quite name.

As she began to tidy up the last of her things, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that made Levi so protective, so driven to keep her safe. She wasn’t used to someone being so… attentive. And while it was sometimes overwhelming, there was also a comfort in knowing he was there, watching over her.

She glanced at the door, half-expecting him to burst back in with another order or observation. But the hallway remained quiet, the heavy wood door firmly closed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Whatever else happened, she knew one thing for certain: Captain Levi Ackerman was unlike anyone she had ever met. And that, more than anything, left her feeling both intrigued and oddly reassured.

…

Tiana lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, the events of the day playing over and over in her mind like a relentless reel. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a lantern on her desk, casting faint, flickering shadows across the walls. She had pulled the blankets up to her chin, trying to find some comfort in their warmth, but her thoughts were too chaotic, too tangled to allow her any real rest.

She had seen death before—the aftermath of battles, the injuries of soldiers—but today had been different. Today, she had seen Levi kill two people right in front of her. It had happened so quickly, so efficiently, that she barely had time to register it until it was over. The memory was vivid in her mind: the swift arc of Levi’s blades, the sudden spray of blood, the sharp, finality of the two spies crumpling to the ground.

She should have been horrified. She should have been terrified. But instead, she couldn’t stop thinking about how… hot Levi had looked. The intensity in his eyes, the precision of his movements, the way he seemed so completely in control of everything around him—it was both terrifying and undeniably attractive. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks just thinking about it.

“What is wrong with me?” she whispered to herself, rolling over onto her side, her face half-buried in her pillow. Here she was, lying in bed, after one of the most intense, dangerous days of her life, and all she could think about was how good Levi had looked while fighting. How his muscles had tensed under his shirt, how his eyes had burned with a fierce determination that sent shivers down her spine.

She was down so bad for him. It was embarrassing. He probably didn’t even see her as a woman. To him, she was just a mission—someone he had to protect, like a child who needed babysitting. She could almost hear his voice in her head, calm and commanding: *“Stay close. Don’t wander off. Keep yourself safe.”* 

She sighed, rolling onto her back again, staring up at the ceiling. “He probably sees me as some little girl he has to look after,” she muttered. “Someone who needs protecting, not… not someone he could actually be interested in.”

But the truth was, Tiana had never felt more alive than when Levi was near. He made her feel… something. She wasn’t even sure what it was. A strange mix of safety and excitement, a thrill that coursed through her whenever he was around. She had always been focused on her work, on her inventions, her ideas. Romance had been a distant thought, something she’d read about in her books but never really experienced herself. She had a few short flings here and there but never anything serious. But now… now she found herself thinking about it more and more.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Levi thought of her. Did he see her as just another person he had to protect? Or was there something more? She had seen a hint of softness in his eyes today, a brief moment where his usual stoic expression seemed to soften, to become almost… tender. But maybe she was just imagining it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

She sighed again, closing her eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. “I need to stop thinking about this,” she told herself firmly. “He’s my bodyguard. That’s all. Nothing more.”

But even as she said it, she couldn’t quite convince herself. There was something about him that drew her in, something that made her heart race and her thoughts whirl. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew one thing for certain: Captain Levi was more than just a guard. He was a mystery, a challenge, and perhaps, just perhaps, something more.

As she drifted between wakefulness and sleep, her thoughts kept returning to him, to the way he had looked at her, the way he had moved, the way he had fought. She couldn’t help but smile, a small, secret smile, as she finally began to drift off to sleep, her last thought a quiet, hopeful whisper in the back of her mind: Maybe, just maybe… he sees me too.

~

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