#Voice and Data Ca

[huxhsz]

✈ — weightless paradise

transmigrated non-mc!reader x caleb

prev ch: 01 - "first" meet┆series masterlist ┆next ch: 03 -regeneration

This isn’t how the game was supposed to go. You're not supposed to be here. You're an anomaly. But if you’re already here, then… can’t you just enjoy it for now? Just for a little while? Before the main story begins? Before everything inevitably falls into place? ...Right?

— content warning/s:

non-consensual medical & scientific experimentation

torture and pain (electrocution, physical restraint)

implied abuse and dehumanization

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

CH. 02 — EXPERIMENT

You hear the screaming before you see them.  

High-pitched and thin, broken in places where their breath cuts out.  

You freeze. Your hand tightens automatically around Caleb’s wrist. His fingers flex beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. His gaze sharpens, head tilting slightly toward the sound.  

You know that voice.  

The door slides open with a soft hiss, and the cold, sterile air of the lab spills out. Caleb steps in first, leading you by the hand. He doesn’t hesitate. He’s calm—too calm—but his grip is firm. Steady. Like he’s done this before. Like it’s nothing.  

You don’t want to look. But you do.  

Unicorn is strapped down to the operating table, arms and legs pinned beneath thick metal restraints. Their hair is damp with sweat, sticking to their forehead and cheeks. Thin white hospital clothes hang off their small frame. Wires snake from their collar to the machines humming around them, feeding streams of data into flickering holographic screens.  

They’re shaking.  

Their dark eyes are wide and glassy with tears, locked onto the masked scientist leaning over them. There’s a thin instrument pressed against their chest, just over their heart. A faint blue glow pulses from the tip, growing brighter with every strained breath they take.  

"Again," one of the scientists says.  

“No—!” Unicorn gasps, but the scientist presses the device deeper.  

Their body arches violently beneath the restraints, their back bowing off the table. Their scream splits the room in half.  

Your breath catches painfully in your throat. You try to move—try to step forward—but Caleb’s hand tightens around yours.  

“Don't.”  

Your head snaps toward him. “We can’t just—”  

“We can’t stop it,” he says. His voice is flat. Cold. “It’s a waste of energy.”  

You shake your head, swallowing against the knot in your throat. “But—they’re hurting them—”  

“Yes,” Caleb says. His gaze is fixed on Unicorn, but his expression doesn’t change. “They always do.”  

Unicorn’s breathing stutters. Their chest rises and falls in shallow, broken gasps. Tears slip down their temples, disappearing into their tangled hair.  

"Please," they whisper.  

Your legs move before you can think. You pull away from Caleb’s grip—hard enough to make him stumble—but his hand closes around your arm before you reach the table.  

“Stop.”  

“Ca—Destroyer!”  

“If you interrupt,” he says evenly, “they’ll make it worse.”  

You choke on a breath. “How could it get any worse?”  

He doesn’t answer.  

The scientist adjusts the device. The blue glow pulses brighter. A sharp, electric sound fills the room—high-pitched and unnatural—and Unicorn’s whole body locks up. Their mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Their eyes are wide, pupils blown, their lips trembling.  

“I…” Their head tilts toward you, barely moving beneath the weight of the collar. Their gaze struggles to focus through the haze of tears. “It… it hurts…”  

You feel sick.  

Caleb’s hand slides down to your wrist, thumb pressing lightly against the inside of your palm. His touch is warm. His grip steady.  

They’re strapped down to the table—thin wrists pinned beneath metal restraints, pale skin mottled with bruises. Their dark hair fans out beneath their head, damp with sweat and sticking to their flushed cheeks. Electrodes are attached to their temples, to their chest, to their throat. Their mouth is open, breathless sobs escaping between broken cries.

The scientists are talking. Calmly. Flatly. Adjusting the settings on the machine as if Unicorn’s body isn’t arching in pain beneath their hands.

"Subject 001’s core stability is deteriorating."

"Increase the output by 5%."

"Yes, sir."

Unicorn’s back bows violently. Their mouth stretches wide in a scream you can’t hear through the glass. Their body thrashes against the restraints, limbs jerking uncontrollably. Their eyes are wide, glassy, tears streaking down their cheeks.

Caleb’s hand moves. He presses his palm flat against the glass, his jaw clenching.

"They’re killing them," you whisper.

"Yeah," Caleb says darkly.

Unicorn’s breathing sharpens—short, shallow gasps. Their chest heaves. Blood wells beneath the restraints where the metal cuts into their wrists. Their body convulses violently once—twice—before going still.

The monitor flatlines.

A sharp, continuous beep.

You flinch.

Unicorn’s head falls limply to the side, their dark hair sticking to their damp cheek. Their eyes are half-lidded. Glassy. Empty.

"They…" Your voice catches. "They’re…"

"No." Caleb’s voice is cold. Hollow. His hand slides down the glass. "Just wait."

You’re about to demand what he means when it happens.

The monitor flickers. The long, continuous tone of the flatline cuts off abruptly.

A beat of silence.

Unicorn’s chest rises with a shaky inhale. Their fingers twitch.

The scientists exchange a few brief words. A quick note is entered into a tablet. The restraints are removed.

Unicorn’s eyes flutter open. Slow. Unfocused.

They sit up. Their legs swing over the side of the table, small hands curling loosely over their knees. Their gaze lifts toward the glass. Their dark eyes are clear, calm. Empty.

They smile.

"Good morning!" Unicorn chirps brightly.

Your breath stops.

The bruises on their wrists are already fading. Their cheeks are flushed with new color. They tilt their head, dark hair glinting beneath the overhead lights.

"Where am I?" they ask cheerfully.

The scientists don’t answer. They’ve already turned away, gathering notes and dismantling the machine.

Unicorn slides off the table. Their legs wobble slightly beneath them, but they recover quickly. Their gaze shifts toward the window. Their eyes meet yours.

Their smile brightens.

"Hi!" they wave. "Who are you?"

Your stomach drops.

Caleb steps away from the glass. His hand curls loosely at his side. His expression doesn’t change, but his gaze hardens.

"You see?" His voice is low. Bitter.

You swallow. Your mouth tastes like metal. "How…?"

Caleb’s eyes darken.

"They don’t know," he says. "They just know it works."

You stare at Unicorn.

They’re already being led out of the room by one of the handlers. They glance back over their shoulder, catching your eye through the glass. Their smile never fades.

As if they didn’t just die.

As if none of it happened.

Unicorn raises a hand and waves.

You can’t move.

"Come on," Caleb mutters. "It’s over."

He turns and walks away. His shoulders are tense.

You remain standing at the window, your pulse pounding painfully in your ears.

You’re sitting in the observation room again.

The glass is cold beneath your fingertips, the faint outline of your breath fogging the surface. The room beyond it is too bright, too sterile. The low hum of machines pulses against your skull, steady and sharp.

Inside the room, Caleb is strapped down to the table.

Metal cuffs circle his wrists and ankles. His dark brown hair is damp with sweat, strands clinging to his forehead. His breathing is steady, but his jaw is tight, his knuckles white where his hands curl into fists. Electrodes are attached to his temples and chest, thin wires running from his skin to the machine standing beside him. The screen pulses with bright lines, sharp spikes that match the rapid beat of his heart.

He doesn’t look at you. He’s staring at the ceiling. His eyes are narrowed. Cold. Detached.

"This is test sequence 14," one of the scientists says.

"Begin."

A sharp pulse crackles through the air.

Caleb’s body jerks. His back arches against the restraints, breath hitching sharply between his teeth. His hands curl tighter.

The hum of the machine deepens.

The gravity in the room shifts.

You feel it first in your chest—a heavy pressure sinking into your lungs, squeezing the breath from your throat. The glass vibrates beneath your fingertips. The metal tray beside the table shudders. The lights overhead flicker.

"Containment field holding," a scientist says.

"Increase output."

"No," you whisper.

Caleb’s breath sharpens. His teeth flash in a snarl as his body strains beneath the cuffs. The table creaks beneath him. The glass beneath your hands trembles violently.

"Output increased by 10%."

Caleb’s eyes snap open.

You stumble back a step.

His eyes—normally deep violet—are blazing now, burning bright and unnatural. The air pulses around him, pressing outward. The lights overhead shatter in a burst of sparks. The scientist closest to him staggers back, clutching his chest.

"Containment field destabilizing—!"

"Shut it down—"

A violent pulse tears through the room.

You gasp, hands flying to your ears as the pressure slams against you. The walls groan. The glass splinters beneath your hands. Blood hums beneath your skin, too fast, too loud—

"SHUT IT DOWN!"

The machine powers down with a metallic hiss.

Caleb’s body collapses back against the table. His chest rises and falls sharply. His eyes slide closed, his head tilting to the side. His hands are trembling where they hang limp at his sides.

The scientists are already moving toward him, adjusting the restraints, collecting data.

"Another failure."

"We need to increase the threshold."

"He’s destabilizing too quickly."

You press your hand to your mouth, trying to steady your breathing. Your knees feel weak.

One of the scientists reaches toward Caleb’s arm. His fingers brush Caleb’s wrist—

Caleb’s hand snaps upward. His fingers wrap around the scientist’s throat.

The glass between you cracks.

"Shit, Subject 002—!"

The scientist’s face twists in panic as he claws at Caleb’s hand. Caleb’s eyes slide open. His gaze is dark. Empty.

"Release him!"

The guards rush forward. Caleb’s grip tightens.

And then—

"C...― Destroyer!"

Your voice breaks.

His eyes flick toward you.

For a moment, you see it—recognition flickering beneath the surface. His hand loosens. The scientist falls to the floor, coughing.

The guards seize Caleb’s arms, strapping him back down as he exhales shakily. His gaze slides toward you. His eyes have darkened, the unnatural glow fading back into violet.

"Take him to containment," one of the scientists orders.

Caleb doesn’t resist. He sits up slowly as the guards unlock the restraints and haul him to his feet. His head tilts slightly toward you as they drag him toward the door. His gaze finds yours through the fractured glass.

You can’t breathe.

He doesn’t smile. But his lips move.

I’m fine.

You know it’s a lie.

The door slides shut behind him.

You sink to the floor, your head falling into your hands.

The room feels too empty without him.

Later, you’re back in the hallway. Cold fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead. You’re waiting outside the medical ward, hands curled over your elbows. You’re still shaking.

The door slides open. Caleb steps out.

He’s still pale. His hair is damp. His uniform jacket is unzipped, the collar hanging loose around his throat. His gaze sharpens when he sees you.

"Hey," he says quietly.

You swallow thickly. "Destroyer—"

Before you can say anything else, his hand lifts.

He presses his palm gently over your eyes.

Your breath catches.

"You don’t have to look," he murmurs. His hand is warm. His fingers brush lightly against your temple. "It’s okay."

"But it’s not okay."

His hand shifts. His thumb brushes your cheek. His gaze softens.

"I don’t want you to see it."

"You…"

He doesn’t let you pull away. His other hand touches your shoulder.

"You’re shaking," he says.

You inhale sharply. "Of course I am! They—they were hurting you, and I couldn’t—"

"I’m used to it."

"That doesn’t make it better!"

His gaze darkens. His hand stays where it is, steady over your eyes.

"You don’t have to watch," he says softly. "Not if you don’t want to."

You press your hand over his. Your heart is still hammering painfully beneath your ribs.

"I do," you whisper.

His breath hitches. His hand slides away from your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His violet eyes catch the dim light—soft and sharp all at once.

For a moment, he just looks at you. Then his hand falls to his side.

"Come on," he says. "Let’s go."

His hand lingers briefly against your wrist before he starts walking down the hall.

You follow him.

[hamadisthings]

BAD CALIFORNIAN INTERNET BILLS

While it is good that KOSA is now dead in the House (for now) I would like to ask for people's attention on AB1949 and SB976, which could push for Age verification by showing your ID.

There was a third bill named AB3080 that had similar goals, but luckily it received revisions so it is no longer a threat or require ID verification to access websites. So it would be possible to get AB1949 and SB976 to be revised so they aren't dangerous anymore.

You can read the text for AB1949 right here

AB1949 doesn't explicitly ask for ID verification anymore, as it used to, due to a revision, but there is a provision stating if they deem a website "willfully disregards" the age of the user they will be deemed to have actual knowledge of the user's age.

This broad part could be left to abuse, which is why it needs to be revised before passing, in order to confirm ID verification is not required. FIND YOUR REPS HERE!

For AB1949, you can find your Senate representative with the link above as I said, and check to see if they're a member of the CA Senate Appropriations Committee. Then call them to tell them you oppose this bill. Try to add reasons you think this bill would negatively affect California financially because that's what this committee focuses on.

As for SB976, which you can read here

Its goal is to "keep kids off social medias and addictive feeds" But the concerning part is that "it would make it unlawful for the operator of an addictive internet-based service or application, as defined, to provide an addictive feed to a user, unless the operator does not have actual knowledge that the user is a minor; commencing January 1, 2027, has reasonably determined that the user is not a minor; or has obtained verifiable parental consent to provide an addictive feed to the user who is a minor."

How are you supposed to know that you have "verifiable parental consent" without ID and age verification of both parents and child?Even then, holding the ID of a minor feels pretty illegal given how sensitive how an info this is, in case of a data breach (which will happen) this would endanger kids even more, and no one in general want to give their ID to access a website or an app.

The bill would also make it unlawful for a website or app to send notifications to a minor according to a certain timeframe.

For SB976, find your Assembly representative using the link below and check to see if they're a member of the CA Assembly Appropriations Committee. Then call them to tell them you oppose this bill. https://apro.assembly.ca.gov/members

You can tell them how this is terrible for privacy, and the safety of children, and that it would be terrible for the economy of California, as they seem to focus on it. You can try sending faxes for either bills, but calling IS MUCH MORE efficient. https://faxzero.com/

Here is the time schedule, bills must be taken care before the end of August so it is a matter of time crunch:

You may use the following scripts for the respective bills, you can try to trim it if you deem it too long!

Might be worth a shot to contact Gavin Newsom (Californian governor) here to voice your concerns for these bills

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter two: This is not a good day to be a god.

Warnings: Spoilers for Aventurine’s backstory, some canon divergent stuff as I’m taking creative liberties. Reader is kind of biased but also not. People aren’t really having a good time. Good ol Eldritch horror. This chapter is a bit more serious in tone than the last ones.

“Mr. Yang, can we please switch the channel?”

Welt, being the nearest person near the techy T.V you absolutely had no fucking idea how to operate yet had obliged to your request, because you see, the news channel had no problem broadcasting your latest breakdown for everyone to hear.

You could have sworn you saw Pompom almost cry from the sound of your eldritch version and honestly you wouldn’t blame them— if you were them, you were sure you’d cry at the sound of your own voice too because what the fuck was that—

Why you even cried? Well, you accidentally freed a planet.

From existing. By simply accidentally dropping your tears on it because you cried watching a planet from thousands of light years away that you’re pretty sure is Sigonia come to conflict.

How you accidentally did more damage than Nanook and haven’t ended up being assimilated to them is beyond you, but you remembered you still have some agendas, you can’t be eaten yet.

It wasn’t exactly your fault your true form was a little too big that rogue planets who had the unlucky chance to get too near you ended up being quite literally disassembled. You just hoped there were no sentient life forms in it.

Continuing on with breakfast, Himeko drank her weird smelling coffee near you, unperturbed and probably used to hearing the news airing out your dirty laundry. (She’s still a little shaken from hearing the crying, but knowing you personally has made it seem.. less terrifying.)

You munched on your toast, thanking Pompom for making it the way you liked it; being slightly on the burnt side.

Welt had switched the channel to a different network, this time, there’s sports. Everyone seemed content on seeing sweaty men on a soccer field instead of hearing your not so pleasant and probably horrifying sounding distress so it was a win.

Then you randomly remembered Sigonia.

“Hey uh.. Himeko? Do we have data on this specific star cluster here?” You asked as you scribbled on a piece of paper, hoping at least that Akivili had made it there at least once.

Himeko peered through the paper and frowned. “….” She seemed hesitant, which confirmed your suspicion. “We don’t… the rail hasn’t gone that way just yet.”

Well shit. It seemed like you couldn’t take the express with you without you heading there and establishing a space anchor first.

But that would take time. Too much time. And you realized that logically there would be little to no benefit of a space anchor in a harsh desert planet— you cut those thoughts as soon as they came, you weren’t going to think like the IPC.

It’s up to you to establish a connection then. But could you even make it in time?

————————————

Your projection had disappeared after breakfast, leaving the express once again to wander as they pleased as you returned to your original body to peer into Sigonia— specifically Sigonia IV once again.

It’s surprisingly lively for a desolate place. It made sense, people do live there, and it made you smile at the resilience they presented despite their circumstances.

You should bless them, you thought, maybe placing it under the guise of their mother goddess if you’re remembering their belief system correctly. She.. unfortunately does not exist, but you do.

You won’t let them know that though for the sake of their peace.

You just wish the two clans would free themselves from hatred; logically it would be more beneficial to work together in a place like that, and it made you feel bad for the Katicans in a way— to be caged by their own prejudice they can’t see beyond words or envy that they’d choose to simply wipe out another clan out of those feelings. It was just sad, a little pathetic almost.

You didn’t want to be biased, but you do know you have sides to take if you wanted to be free of something. In this situation, you don’t think there was an option to simply have the two of them be on equal terms— not for now at least. Maybe you should consult Xipe? But where even are they?

For the sake of quieting your strangely human conscience, you chose to bless the Avgins in their little festival, in the hope that you’d steer them away from their written fate.

You know it’d be hard to fight, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

It had taken you to seeing little Kakavasha for a good while for you to finally crack and get down there yourself.

There was no way you were going to let him suffer a life that you knew was going to happen to him, not if you could do something about it. And lucky for you, you were an Aeon, and you were an Aeon that did whatever they damn wanted.

You had said fuck you to fate that day and took the form of an Avgin woman, not before leaving a message to Boothill that you hope he’d receive considering you’re not delivering it through your phone number— you were delivering your message through sheer will.

————————

Assimilating with the Avgin had come rather easily. It had made you feel bad to deceive them— you had pretended to be injured, no, it was more like you intentionally let your projection appear injured, as you approached their camp.

You had called yourself “Delia”, and they were keen on accepting that. They had taken care of you and kids cooed over the patterns of the skirt that you wore, asking you how you had created it.

Your only saving grace had been a young girl who appeared almost the same physical age as you, shooing away the people who crowded you too much. (Not that there was even many of them, there were three at most, and they were children.)

You had only awkwardly laughed as she shot them a look, something about how the “patient” needed to be left alone.

“Sorry about them, they can be excitable when they see something pretty.” She said to you, squeezing a wet rag before she wiped your face with it. It’s embarrassing to be taken care of like you were a baby, but if it’s what it took to try and free them, then you’re willing to sacrifice your dignity a little more— if you were being honest, you’d take this over hearing the sound of your own crying on the television.

“It’s fine.” You smiled as she put the rag down and checked your “injured” leg.

“A few more days and you’d be good to go. Though…. You’re healing faster than people normally would…..” You could sense the suspicion in her tone, and inwardly you smiled mischievously. “Never mind, I suppose that’s a good thing. The sooner you heal, the sooner you’re out of the bed and can go around and move about.” She nodded to herself in her assessment of you and left the tent.

It was days later that you found that she’s funnily enough, Kakavasha’s sister.

By that time, you were known by the people around you, but you didn’t know them.

Kakavasha had been one of those who knew you in courtesy of his older sister; and now he’s here, shyly peeking over the table as you scribbled away into a sheet of paper.

He’s curious as he peered over your work. “It’s the stars you see on the left side of that mountain.” You told him, hesitantly he brings his pointer finger and holds it over the tear drop shapes.

“What’s this?”

“It’s rain.” You explained, and the little boy that you once knew to be the gambler tilted his head.

“Why is there so many of them?” Ah right, this place didn’t rain much.

“The sky is crying.” You told him and he simply frowned.

“Sister said you have a lot of stories.” He decided to change the topic, probably sensing your awkwardness. How embarrassing for a little kid to know you’re not good at speaking, but you know you’ll eventually learn how to better yourself in doing so.

“Yes I do, wanna hear one of them?” Your smile returned, and little Kakavasha, with his one missing front tooth, reflected your expression.

“I’m taking that as a yes. I’ll tell you the story of a girl who lost everything to the rain…”

————————

Two Sigonian months (you’ve counted the hours, and put them into months to prevent yourself from going insane from saying the numbers) and you’re pretty sure you’ve ran out of tales you’ve parodied from the original you told him and the other children. Kakavasha had brought it upon himself to stick by your side funnily enough, saying something about not caring if you repeat the tales to him again.

His mother had brought you to the side some time ago, thanking you for the diversion you gave to the children from the reality they were in.

You were combing a sleeping Kakavasha’s hair when you had heard it. The dreaded call for aid for the next Kakava festival.

And there was no time for the space anchor you were just starting to make.

Your hands paused, and you gently set the child’s head off your lap and into a pillow before disappearing into the night.

You returned 6 system hours later. Then another 18 system hours went by before you disappeared again and reappeared exactly after six hours. That continued on for days as the festival grew nearer.

——————————

Unbeknownst to you, this was utterly terrifying for the galaxy rangers aside from Boothill to receive messages from a nonexistent number. It had come in the form of a cipher, then actual comprehensive texts, then another cipher again and all of them would increase in frequency— as if the one who was calling for help was making it a point that it was urgent.

All of it had led to the answer of Sigonia IV despite the other strange contents of those messages.

Sometimes it wasn’t even texts at all, sometimes it was calls in the same six system hour time span that they’d receive those messages. They’d receive the call, and they would receive static sounds that formed words— gibberish half the time, but still beckoning them to Sigonia IV.

Some of them had put their phone down sometimes as the calls manifested into sounds that made them shudder all the way to their bones. They couldn’t describe the noise, but it put some sort of primal reaction out of them enough that some of them went 72 system hours without sleep.

As irrational and ridiculous as it sounded, there were very little things that galaxy rangers feared.

Whatever was sending them these things were one of them.

Sometimes it would be their TV, and Boothill had the unfortunate fate of listening to the strange cacophony that if he had been a human he was sure it would have terrified him enough he’d piss himself. There was something wrong about the waves it emitted, it wasn’t a normal glitch or a hack sort of glitch, but rather something else.

SOS, Sigonia IV, SOS, Sigonia IV. The message were a repeat.

In the calls he received, he would have thought he was having a fever dream when he found they didn’t exist in his call logs until his fellow rangers confirmed they received the same message.

He remembered receiving the text once before all this— a strange occurrence, but not exactly a coincidence.

They received the same messages again for this night. Except the ending sequence changed.

Bring people. Avgin. IPC not help. SOS. Sigonia IV. Send HELP.

After the last sequence had indicated the date, the TV short circuited and the lights dimmed.

“Oh fudge me.” Boothill muttered, whoever or whatever was even sending these things were clearly going agitated. “Looks like we’re going to be on a roll boys, I don’t think it’s wise to priss off this cutie pie so best we don’t ignore that signal for any fudging longer than we already had.”

“Say less, and I hope to the aeons I get a good nights sleep when we’re done.”

—————————————

Part I, Part II, Part III [HERE], Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII….

And that’s a wrap for part two! I know it lacks jokes but come on. But yeah we’re going on the more serious territory for a bit before we go back for the jokes. Heavily unedited and written in the middle of the night.

[deathemayor]

Vocaloid Familiarity Survey...DATA!!!

hello, i posted a survey to gauge the general familiarity of vocaloid characters that I (emphasis on I) consider basic or surface level (with a few wildcards thrown in which i will address in this summary) after grieving the lack of non-miku vocaloid fan merch. just how much do people know about vocaloid outside of miku? her friends? her friends' friends? and so on.

the survey was by no means perfect (this was my first attempt at this) but i received some great feedback from the survey takers to better improve the experience the next time i host one.

if you just want a basic summation of the results, here ya go--overall familiarity (that is, recognition of name/design/both summed up) organized into an iceberg tier list. including the individual percentages would have been So SO much so i crammed it into the alt text of the iceberg.

(tiers are in order. the only tie was big al, sweet ann, and an excluded lola. i'll address her and leon in the summary) the rest of this post will be going over some of the results as well as reflecting on the survey itself, its shortcomings, and a possible sequel with improvements :)

FIRST OF ALL: EXCLUSIONS

i am so so so so sorry for not including your fave on the survey, even if they had a realistic level of popularity! i either straight up forgot or didn't think they were that relevant or arbitrarily decided "nah this might be too far, don't wanna scare anyone off" before deciding to include more obscure synths. yukari fans in particular were very vocal about her exclusion, and i totally get it!! i also get the confusion in the exclusion of seeu and maika (the main korean and spanish-speaking loids respectively).

out of the other synths i didn't include, i wish i included yukari, seeu, maika, mayu, iroha, yohioloid, the rest of the isotopes, and the rest of the vsingers. you'll notice i included the rest of starry court + the tokyo6 girls even though they expectedly did pretty poorly among general audiences. i almost scrapped saros, nyl, karin, and chifuyu, but was like "what the heck might as well complete the full set right". and then did not extend that grace to kafu and tianyi's friends!!! aughh!!

also, EARLY on in the survey, i included calne ca as a character to recognize, which some ppl didn't get since unlike other fanloids she didn't really have an associated "voice". while this survey was more about the fandom and character side rather than the music, i figured it was a fair point since i didn't extend similar grace to several other fanloids without significant voices like mikudayo/hachune miku/more. so in order to just remove it from the picking or without fucking up the sample size by adding more questions after the fact, i just removed her.

leon and lola stayed on the survey till closure, but when i was tallying up the results i decided it didn't really make sense to include them (at least the way that i did). i'll discuss this more when i talk about fan designs.

1 - what went down

so based on the results of the iceberg, i was about expecting these types of results with a few surprises here or there. it should come to no shock that ol' reliable hatsune miku scored a 100% recognition rating. 99.7% respondents recognized her name and design. curiously, a SINGLE respondent (.3%) only recognized her name.

the rest of the top tiers are nothing surprising. the rest of the "cryptonloids" near the top were expected (for those OOTL: cryptonloids refers to vocaloids made by crypton future media, miku's parent company, and therefore are the ones that appear alongside her in all officially sponsored events/merch/games/concerts/etc. so they're seen A Lot). meiko was a bit of an outlier and the only one among the six to score below 90%, which was sort of surprising? like, perhaps she just doesn't have as much vocal fans compared to kaito idk. gumi and teto, the non-cryptonloids, are also no surprise to see up high. gumi is very popular, especially back in the day where she was THE girl for your english vsynth song. teto has seen a massive resurgence through many sources, most of which stems from her synthv voicebank and songs made with it. mesmerizer and its copycats, daemon doll, on top of general nostalgia. teto was also huge back in the day considering triple baka. she's older than luka just short of a year, so she was included in some OLD songs (or at least their mvs) before luka even existed.

a rung below that is also fairly standard, minus my slight surprise for meiko scoring in a different tier from her friends. neru's standing comes to no surprise due to triple baka/classic music videos including her as well as a slight resurgence in relevance through people including her in mesmerizer. mikuo, a derivative of miku, did a bit better than i thought. as i expected, the art trend where people redesigned him gave him a bit of a leg up in recognition. also, the general concept of his character is just... very straightforward to grasp just by looking at him, so i wonder if that also played a role.

i expected yuki to do a little bit better, maybe even better than gakupo, who did worse than i thought. yuki's been going through a renaissance in recent years like through the work of inabakumori, yukopi, and yes whether we like it or not, the ensuing drama that surrounded hiiragi magnetite's "zako". but still, scoring above 70% is nothin' to sneeze at. i SWORE gakupo would do better tho, idk! i'm surprised even fukase surpassed him, even by less than 1%. i associate gakupo as being part of the main friend group. several ensemble songs (namely the hitoshizukup x yama variety) include him alongside gumi and the cryptonloids.

the 60-69% threshold is the middle ground, and for the most part it's a little mundane and expected. lily (and leon, who is not here but if he was would be between lily and una) did a bit better than i thought, though i think i can see it. before i knew about ia and mayu (i feel rlly dumb for not including her bc as i said i'm a yamashizuku enjoyer and mayu is usually included in 10-vocal ensembles augh!!!), i considered the main vocaloids after gumi and gakupo (numbers 9 and 10, since that's how i conceptualized it) to be lily and miki. i think several pieces of older fanart that feature popular vocaloids, ie the cryptonloids + gumi and gakupo, often threw in lily and miki as well. i wonder if lily's artwork being done by kei had something to do with this? i wasn't there at the time haha i just consumed vocaloid thru youtube reuploads and not so much with the community when i was a kid.

as we travel deeper down the iceberg, we drift far away from the vocaloid software and more into alternative vsynth softwares and their characters. while my variety in software included in the survey was fairly basic, it came to no surprise that among the general responders, synthv/cevio/utau characters were less recognized.

the bottom tier, in that case, makes perfect sense. saros, nyl, and chifuyu are particularly young voicebanks (nyl being the youngest on the list, released october 2024).

qi xuan was INTENTIONALLY a cheeky curveball saved for the very end and i'll admit it was extremely funny seeing people whose otherwise perfect streaks ended up slipping when she showed up at the end. qi xuan is the only ACE virtual singer i know, so might as well use her to rep the software, right? i figured she might have had some legs to stand on thanks to her recent appearances in kikuo's latest songs. sure enough, the majority of people who recognized her at all only knew her name and didn't recognize her design. in fact, she was the only synth where more people only knew her name rather than both name and design.

2 - regarding fan designs

something a little unorthodox about the survey was that i included fan designs for kevin, yi xi, and kinda vy2 ("roro" is semi-officially acknowledged, acknowledged enough to have his own spot on the fandom wiki, so i think he's a special case). my thought process was this: from my perspective, kevin and yi xi were probably the most popular or well-known faceless dreamtonics synths. but they don't really have a design to recognize. no one really uses the letters, not that i know of in original songs anyway. my logic in using ivylare's mr kevin synthv design and vimalion project's yi xi design was that they were probably the most recognized fan designs for dreamtonics loids. IN MY OPINION. the former's meme status + the latter's inclusion in butcher vanity meant that this would be the necessary push to give responders a reminder "hey in case this random fucking letter doesn't ring any bells, maybe this fan design will?"

BUUUT i acknowledge that is a bit of a leading question and doesn't actually consider OTHER popular fan designs these two (and all the other faceless loids for that matter). The Most popular fan design is actually pretty subjective tbh!! so i'm sorry if my inclusion of certain fan designs might have been confusing to any survey takers. however, i still included kevin and yi xi's results in the icebergs since the inclusion of the fan design, flawed as it was, was still a Character to recognize (which their original letters Certainly Were Not), which was the point of this whole survey.

The same could not be said for how i handled leon and lola. i'll admit, these two were a stretch even when i was making it. i cheated a bit and included them to gauge whether responders knew their vocaloid history rather than their vocaloid characters. so if anything i probably should have left them as a bonus question at the end idk. i didn't include fan designs for them because uh from my perspective, they don't really have a widely accepted super duper popular fan design? but i could be totally wrong on that, again this is a very subjective and tricky subject i was not ready to go into! so i just left them as is for the history question. considering this while i was tallying the results, i decided it didn't make sense for them to be included, so i cut them from the iceberg. if they were included, as previously mentioned, leon would be between lily and una, and lola would be tied with big al and sweet ann.

3 - the sqeakwel?!?

i do plan on making a follow-up based on the lovely feedback i got from the folks that took my survey (though this could be months from now, i'm a bit busy + google forms got very laggy with just like 45ish characters so augh). YES, i will be blowing up the scope way more to make sure no one feels left out. i might be a bit shaky on faceless loids (would miriam count? her box art is her VP's face but there's not exactly much else to go off of hhh), they might get their own section dedicated to various fan designs (but how do you account for all of them ?! or the most relevant ?!?!). there's also the goliath of a question that is How Do You Possibly Narrow Down The Roster of Utaus For Another Survey. utaus and similar tech like diffsinger can be made by anyone, so it just isn't realistic to include everyone. i thought about using vocadb + my own knowledge but idk? if anyone's got suggestions i'd love to hear it.

some other demographic questions were suggested by feedbackers will also be included. one that popped out to me was asking what years the survey taker was invested in (and possibly fell out of) the vocaloid community, which could provide some insight on which characters are recognized compared to others. like, who would someone who hasn't thought about vocaloid since 2012 recognize vs someone who got into it in 2020? this is an interesting question and i'd love to see what would come out of it.

some feedback suggested providing voice samples since some vocaloids have appeared in songs that people might not realize they've already heard (like avanna's appearance in several porter robinson songs. this could possibly solve the conundrum i had with kevin and yi xi). i am a liiiittle mixed on it idk? maybe this is just me but i feel like several factors like voice colors/multilingual voicebanks/the definite possibility someone might not recognize a voice from one source and connect it to another might make collecting data on this kind of messy and unreliable. like yi xi's vb is natively recorded in mandarin yet her most popular song is in english, idk i feel like there are a couple of factors to consider when showing vocal samples (i also do not have access to every voicebank so i can't make consistently neutral do-re-mi samples for them). i DID consider this by including song links (which i think some people also had in mind) but i didn't want the question to be Do You Recognize This Song. and again, i feel like there's a possibility there could be a mixup or the recognition doesn't come but idk i might just be deaf. lmk your thoughts!!

thank you for reading my yapping if you made it to the end, and a massive thank you to the people who participated in the survey!!!! if you have any questions about the data i would love to answer all of them (i am lowkey bad at navigating form data through google sheets which is why my data summary was a bit basic, but i can look closer for a specific thing you wanna know)

<3

[wayfayrr]

Surprise!!

I'm back from my break, taking some time just to clear my thought's feels like it's worked wonders <33

To set things back off with a bang I've got the grand prize winner for @glowyskull in my 200 followers raffle!! It's self aware twi deciding to take certain matters into his own hands after his darling reader was gone for so long - since he's fresh out of twilight princess in this one he's going as link rather than twilight as well I hope you enjoy!! <3

[masterlist]

Of all the days to get sick it had to be today, of course it is. I’m somewhat grateful for the extra day off though even if I would’ve preferred not being sent home early, it’ll give me some time to sort out some things I’ve been pushing aside for a while. Maybe I could start by finally sorting out some boxes of old things I’ve been putting off for ages. Well, now that box is a lot emptier than it was when I started and I’ve finally found my old Wii - I wonder does it still have my old Twilight Princess save? Maybe I could see, there’s not much else to do now I’ve finished sorting everything out. Just gotta get all the wires plugged in correctly and then … There! It’s certainly working which is a good sign, now all there is to do is to open it up and check up on something I thought I had lost long ago. 

This isn’t how it should open - I know what the opening is supposed to be.

There should be something here, not just this, not just this dark empty noise. Maybe the data got corrupted or something, I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

“..Dar-li-in’?”

“...”

“Darlin’ is that - you - you’ve finally come back darlin’? I - I ain’t alone anymore?”

…What is that - that can’t just be file corruption, that was someone speaking to me… It wasn’t the clearest, it sounded like it had been put through rounds of compression but that was definitely a voice… 

“You are there aren’t you darlin’? Please - I don’t- I can’t go - I can’t”

“I can’t go back to how I’ve been stuck I can’t - I can’t do it anymore… I know I’m supposed to be the courageous hero but I -”

“- I can’t do this anymore… I ca-n’t do - this… not - no-t any-m…”

He cut himself off with his own sobbing… I’ve never heard anyone sound half as broken as this, it’d be the rawest I’ve ever heard anyone cry if it wasn’t for all of the distortion… What has he been through? Now that the static has lessened - It’s links model, but more humanlike? It’s like there’s a person on the other side of the screen and not just a character.

But that means He’s the one crying…The way he’s standing is just as heartbreaking as his sobs are, his hands pressed up against the glass, his head hanging low and endless tears falling down his face. How do I go about - I know where I can start… 

“...Link? Can you hear me - I - I’m not sure if I’m the darlin’ you’re talking about, but right now, You aren’t alone link.”

“[Name] - you ? Oh darlin’ you - You’re really here - ‘m not imagining this? You - you’re finally back?”

“Yeah, I’m here link.”

His crying sounds happier now, but it still doesn’t sound anywhere close to stopping - I don’t expect him to stop crying for a long while though. It has to have been what - at least a decade since I last played? - has he been trapped in there aware the whole time? 

“You aren’t - you aren’t going to leave me again, are you? Please darlin’ - I can’t go back - it’s so - I can’t. Please. Darlin’ you can’t leave me again - I can’t do this anymore.”

His voice sounds even worse now, it’s heartbreaking and I think he knows how inhuman he sounds if his wince is anything to go off of, how he sounds is hurting him too.

“I thought I’d tried every way to get out… but I - I never got the chance to do it when the game was on… You won’t be able to leave me if this works… will you darlin'?”

Here I thought his crying sounded scary, the way it’s fading into laughter is downright haunting. It sounds so wet as if he’s choking on his tears as he laughs. 

“I’m finally going to get out- I’m not - I’m not going to be stuck anymore.  Darlin’ I”

For the first time since this all started he’s looking up at me, lifting his head like it’s one of the heaviest things to exist just to make eye contact with me. He looks… he looks like he’s ready to kill someone.

“W-what are you - what are you planning to do link?”

“... I don’t know… All I do know is that this glass keeping us apart? It’s so thin… I think tha-”

The way he silenced himself suddenly isn’t so shocking, not when a smile is cracking its way across his face mirroring the glass underneath his fingers. His breath and mine hitched before his laughing picked back up with even more distortion. 

“To - to think darlin’ - all I  - it just - it just needed to be on - I… I…”

Blood coated my shelf now due to how desperately his hand is reaching for something to hold onto after the glass tore into his skin. This is all just a fever dream though so…

Without much more thinking I reached out to take his hand, wincing slightly as the glass caught in his skin dug into mine. Immediately his grip tightened with a choked sob coming from him, like he didn’t expect me to help him. It doesn’t take long after that for him to shatter the screen in his desperation, falling out onto me knocking us both to the floor. Shards of my tv embedding themselves into any bare skin of his, blood - his blood - streaking out from each and every wound now marring his face as proof that this is real.

The same blood that’s starting to stain my shirt.

“I’m here darlin’ - ‘m finally out.”

“Yeah, you are Link, you’re out of there now.”

Everything feels so fuzzy, maybe my fever really is messing with me more than I thought. Real or not though, I should deal with the cuts on his face, he isn’t from here… Who knows how deadly even the most basic infection could be to him?

“...Link, if I may you’ve um… you’ve gotten a lot of cuts from …that and I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave them as they are. Would you mind if I...?”

“You would - darlin’ you’d do that just for me?”

“I’d do it for anyone who needed it… and you really need it. I don’t want to think what could happen if I don’t. I’ll just need to get up to grab some supplies okay?”

As I shifted to get up he let out a low groan and buried his head more into my torso, clearly very against the idea of me moving in any way. Even trying to gently pry him off of me isn’t helping at all, he’s not letting go anytime soon; his grip only seems to be getting tighter with every movement I make. 

“Link, please… I don’t know how your body could react to an infection and we don’t have healing potions or fairies here. I’ll be back in just a second I swear.”

“Darlin’. You aren’t leavin' me again, I’ve already spent far too long without you when you abandoned me for so, so long.”

Why does he sound and feel so real this can’t be… this has to be a hallucination. Come on [name], just deal with this as it comes. 

“I don’t need to leave you then, you can stay with me while I get what I need. Does that work for you?”

A gentle nod followed by loosening his hold on me was a good sign that he is okay with this, despite how frail and overwhelmed his face makes him out to be. Getting up still isn’t the easiest thing to do with how he refuses to let go of me despite if he did then it would far easier for the both of us to get up. Then the moment I do finally get up immediately his arms are wrapped around my waist as he pulls himself up with me, almost as if he’s struggling to stand on his own; not that I’ll question that now, there are other issues to be dealing with.

Shuffling over to where I keep my first aid kit, link could clearly tell it wasn’t the best idea to keep ahold of me while I get it, instead leaning on the wall keeping himself upright as his eyes never left me the entire time his hands weren't on me. Like he’s scared I’m going to up and vanish or something. Because I did. I did and I left him in that place. I left him to rot.

“Okay I’ve got it link, let’s go sit down and I can treat your wounds.”

“M’kay darlin’.”

Leading him back to the couch with his arms securely around my waist again was faster than before, letting me move him into the position that would be more comfortable for him while I do this. 

“Okay wolf boy, this isn’t going to be the best. After I’ve taken the shards out, I’ll have to disinfect the cuts. So this is gonna sting a little alright? Just try to keep still and it’ll be over faster.”

The silence was tattered with the occasional whine and whimper as I pull each and every shard littering his otherwise perfect face. It wasn’t long till I was preparing some rubbing alcohol on a cloth just to be certain there won’t be any more risks. Just got to do it before I start getting too drowsy from this fever. 

“There you go Link, not much longer now, you’re doing amazingly. I’ll warn you again though this is really going to sting.”

“Darlin’ nothing could sting worse than the feeling of you abandoning me all that time.”

Hissing and pulling away when the cloth came close to touching him seemed to disprove that faster than he meant for it too. Not that I didn’t expect him to try pulling away from it, just not pushing my hand away while pressing himself into my other side. With a soft sigh, I let him grab onto my free hand with both of his, the image of him clinging to my sleeve like a plush toy being one of the cutest things I would have ever seen if not for the blood streaming down his face. 

“Come on, you were doing so well. I promise it’ll only take a moment more then it’ll be done with…”

That seemed to do the trick, despite the clear pout and his tightening grip whenever it seemed to hurt a little too much, he’s let me clean the blood off of his face and clean the wounds. Now just to bandage him up and -

“All done link, see it was worth it right? Now you don’t have to worry about all those cuts; I can go and lie down for a bit now too.”

“Lie down but - but I just got here… can’t we spend more time together?”

“I do want to link, I can promise you that. I’m just not feeling well, I haven’t been well for this whole time really; this fever is taking more of a toll on me than I thought it would.”

“Fever? Oh, darlin’ you, you should be resting not dealin' with me [name]. I - I didn’t even realise, I just. I was so excited to be here with you that I didn’t even notice you were in pain. How could I even call myself your lover?”

What did he just-?

No don't worry about that at the moment [name].

Laying my head on his chest after gently shoving him onto the couch is such a comforting feeling; if he’s just my fever trying to convince me to rest, well I wouldn’t mind getting sick more often. 

“‘s alright link, don’t worry about ‘t. I’m just, gonna sleep for a little bit. Then if you aren't just a hallucination we can spend more time together later.”

Hands carded through my hair only seem to push me further into sleep now, there’s no point resisting and forcing myself to stay awake now anyway.

“I know we will darlin’, ‘cause I ain’t ever letting you leave me ever again.”

[seancekitsch]

How did Vox and Assistant get together?

hehe i wrote a little something about it!!

also reminder that requests for hazbin hotel/ helluva boss are open!

“Say, Y/n,” your boss’ voice melts over the sound of his office, computer fans and clicking keys, “you consider yourself smart, right?”

Is that some kind of trick? Did you mess something up? No, you couldn’t have. 

“Remarkably intelligent,” you retort, eyes not looking up from data. His newest algorithm on VoxFlix is rolling out perfectly, and your finishing touches on it are making new subscribers flooding in. 

“Would you consider yourself skilled?”

Definitely a game he’s playing; you can see he’s in the same data set as you. He’s seeing what you’re seeing. Your eyes flicker up above your VoxPad, but not to him.

“In all the ways that count, sir,” you sigh, feigning annoyance but interested in where he’s taking this. 

“Hardworking?”

“As hard as I can be without a chair of my own,” you quip, making a jab at his poor planning skills. Vox has you standing over his shoulder almost all day, following him to meetings, standing in the background of presentations. You’re glad you’re already dead or your feet would be killing you. Vox just laughs.

“You think you’re funny?” 

Oh, just from that tone you know you got him. This has just become a tennis match, back and forth.

“Incredibly witty,” you tilt your head towards him, and close out the document you were viewing, “and maybe a bit charming too.”

Vox leans over his desk, now entering your space. You can’t help but lean closer too, your body reacting to him. It’s not a secret your boss is one of Hell’s most handsome eligible bachelors, and you are not immune to the effects of that fact. His eyes are trained on you, sharp and bright; his full focus on you. 

“Pretty?” he asks, and strikes a nerve. 

“Enough to get by,” you deflect, “What’s with all the questions, sir? This an interview?”

You’re not sure if you should be this flippant with a dangerous man like Vox, but it rolls off the tongue naturally, as it has since your first meeting with him. 

“Yeah,” He smiles, “I’m making sure you aren’t gunning for my job.”

Your eyes flicker down to the sharp corner of his smile, the way it grows under your attention.

“I wouldn’t dream of it sir,” Your smile matches his, and he leans in further. 

Vox catches your lips on his screen, the slight tingle of static at the corners of his mouth. It’s nothing like you thought it would feel like, and yes, you’ve definitely thought about it. You let your mind wonder sometimes when you lean your him against his desk and you swear you see his screen glitch, or when you hand him his mug and your hands touch. Electricity in his touch as he pulls you closer, his hand moving to the back of your head to pull you in closer to him, the two of you bent over opposite sides of the desk to join. His kiss is gentle, but firm; he presses where lips should be against you, and yet his mouth opens, your lips slotting in perfectly. His tongue licks between the seam of your lips, you part them eagerly. 

Vox deepens the kiss, climbing up onto his desk, his free hand throwing his keyboard to the side to make room for his knees, his hand behind your head moving to your back to pull you up and closer to his chest. The hum of fans kicks in, and you smirk as best you can through the kiss. You recognize them as Vox’s fans, his internal cooling system to prevent shutdown. It’s a rush of blood beneath your skin, a pumping racing feeling of an ego boost knowing that simply kissing you made that happen. His other hand comes to your waist, his claws immediately bunching up the fabric of your shift dress to make it rise dangerously high. You let out a moan- fully accidentally. You hadn’t wanted to let Vox know how much you were enjoying it. He breathes against you, hot air pushed from the fan against your neck, and he pulls away fully, his lips and hands leaving you.

When you open your eyes you see him kneeled on his own desk, desperation causing him to move across it for you. Any other demon and you’d find a move like that pathetic, but with Vox it feels hot, powerful and sexy. In his hand is his VoxPad, his thumb swiping before he shoves it your way. 

“I’m not signing a deal with you,” you spit immediately. Always count on an Overlord to spoil a mood, you think. 

“It’s not a deal,” he urges you to read it, and you oblige him to skim it. 

…non disclosure of relations…

…no press…

…strict rules of relations… no others…

“Is this a fucking NDA?” you ask, forgetting any manners or sexiness. That was out the window with this document shoved in your face. 

Vox’s screen flashes, and he looks almost sheepish. He looks embarrassed for even showing it to you. Poor baby.

“It’s not… not an NDA,” his screen stutters with static. Oh, he’s genuinely nervous. You’ve got him. You look him up and down, sizing up your boss perched on his desk, red streaks of shared spit smeared down his screen, his jacket rumpled; a powerful man disheveled. 

You drop the VoxPad to the side, your hands moving back to your boss. You let your fingers walk up Vox’s sleeve, slow and seductive. 

“You still gonna kiss me even if I don’t sign it?” you coo, you really don’t want to sign any paperwork that isn’t your normal work contract.

“Well,” Vox’s screen twitches, and he thinks about it, “I guess I could just… trust you.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, fingers now dancing around his lapels, then yanking on his bowtie.

“When have I ever given you a reason not to?” you ask, and he just kisses you instead of answering; you’d never crossed or even contradicted him. 

Your tongues lick and lap at each other, static making your hair stand on end, his claws back in the fabric of your outfit. Vox pulls you onto the desk as well, pulling your body flush with his, letting you feel all of him. His hands go immediately to your ass, handfuls he digs into. He’s hard against you, and fuck, you want him. He’s bigger than you’d imagined, you can tell even through clothing. Heat burns through you, flushes to your core. Need floods you unlike the curious want of before. 

You break apart from the kiss with a sharp gasp, not breaking away from his embrace. 

“Fuck,” you pant, “I’ll blow you right here if you never bring up that NDA again.”

Immediately one of his hands leaves your ass to slap around for the VoxPad until finally he grasps it in his claws. 

“Consider it deleted, Doll.”

[thevioletcaptain]

I just stumbled upon Quakia and I just wanted to say that I love it so much! I kinda wanted it to be longer cuz I wato see how Dean would react when Cas finally have his own body 😭😭

Thank you so much!! Qualia (AKA The Cas Is A Sad Sentient House Fic) is easily my weirdest baby, so it's so nice when people let me know they liked it 💙 I've always wanted to write a sequel, and even started putting one together, but I just haven't found the time to give it the focus it deserves. That said, I'll paste the opening scene at the bottom of this reply. It's only about 800 words, and it's Cas POV, directly following the final moments of Qualia :) I hope you enjoy it, even if it's not exactly what you were looking for!

One-by-one, Castiel becomes aware of thirty-two points of sensory input.

One on each rubber fingertip. One on the tip of the thumb. Another between each metal and plastic joint of the fingers and on the heel of the palm. Another in the center.

The same again, mirrored on the back of the hand.

He feels Dean’s skin with more than half of them. Feels heat. Pressure. Motion.

Castiel maps out the sensations and tries to make sense of them.

“Your skin is warm,” he says finally, and when Dean laughs, nervous but joyful, Castiel is amazed to find that he somehow feels every sensation even more acutely. As though being witness to Dean’s happiness has made him capable of interpreting a greater range of data.

Logically, he knows that isn’t the case. The readings haven’t changed -- Dean’s hand is still registering at 96.4 degrees. His grip is still reading at approximately 60 pounds of force, and his thumb is still moving in a slow, smooth, repetitive arc from the sensor at the edge of the wrist up to the sensors above the knuckles.

All of the input remains the same; so how does it feel like so much more?

“Sorry my hand’s kinda sweaty,” Dean says with a grimace.

Castiel scans the available data. Heat, pressure, motion. If Dean’s skin is damp, he can’t detect it.

Even if he could, he doubts he’d be upset about it; feeling it would just be further proof that this is truly happening. That as much as anything ever truly can, he’s touching Dean; that Dean is touching him.

“I can’t detect any moisture,” he says, and flexes the hand, moving the thumb to echo the motion of Dean’s. “Just you. I like the way your hand feels.”

Dean ducks his head, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth as he raises his free hand to hide it. Castiel wishes he wouldn’t. He doesn’t get a chance to say so before Charlie speaks.

“Yeah, that hand is a pretty basic prototype,” she says, and Castiel angles the lens she gave him until he can see her.

It’s a little hard to tell, thanks to a far lower visual resolution than he’s used to, but he thinks she might be crying as she smiles. He wonders what that might feel like. If liquid containing saline feels as solid as a hand, or if it feels like nothing at all; if she’s even aware of the moisture on her cheeks.

“Your real hands will have a lot more sensors, and a lot more kinds of sensors. And no exposed metal bits,” she explains, then pauses. Chews her lip for a moment before she continues. “Unless you want them, obviously. It’s totally up to you what you look like.”

Castiel directs his lens back down to look at the hand, inspecting the metal bits as best he can. They don’t inspire any particular feeling in him, positive or negative, but doubts that they are capable of sensation. Dean’s thumb taps against one of the joints at the knuckle as though he’s testing it out himself.

Castiel sees him do it. He doesn’t feel it.

He wants to be able to feel it every time Dean touches him. The lens whirs quietly as he redirects his focus back up to Charlie.

“I don’t think I want exposed metal bits, no.”

“How—“ Dean starts, his hand squeezing pressure into thirteen of the sensors.

There’s a waver in his voice. The last time Dean sounded like this was the night before he told Castiel he wouldn’t be visiting anymore. When he’d told Castiel that he sometimes forgot that Castiel wasn’t real.

“This is awesome, Charlie. Really. And I don’t wanna be a pessimist here, but… how are we gonna do any of this? Just. You know I’ll do whatever I need to do to make this work, but it’s gotta be expensive, right? And even if I sell the Impala, I don’t see how—“

“Holy shit,” Sam says, and Dean looks at him sharply.

Castiel can’t quite make his lens turn far enough to see him clearly.

“What?” Dean asks.

“I mean, I knew you loved him, but like… you love him.”

“You’re just getting that now?” Jess asks with a laugh, her voice floating in from somewhere to Sam’s right.

“He said he’d sell the Impala, Jess.”

“Nobody’s selling anything,” Charlie cuts in, and Dean’s hand tightens again.

Castiel feels it; the tension of his touch. How often has Dean’s body been saying more than he was capable of perceiving? How often has he missed half the picture?

“Sam, you might want to cover your ears," Charlie says.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have the same respect for the law that you do.”

[botgal]

California Internet Bills Update 8/1/2024

A heads-up for everyone, all three of the major internet bills in California currently have dates before they proceed.

AB 3080, the major age verification bill for access to adult sites is set for its second reading on the CA Senate floor on this coming Monday's meeting 8/5/2024. This will not be the final vote, if it passes this second reading then it will have a vote at the third reading before going to the Governor to pass, veto, or allow to pass without signature. Current Recommended Action: call your CA Senators to voice your opposition, and call/write Governor Newsom's office in advance in the event that this bill passes through the Senate after the coming third reading.

AB 1949, the bill regarding collection and sale of data from those under 18 if the website has knowledge of their age, is set to go through the CA Senate Appropriations Committee on Monday 8/5/2024. If it passes through then it'll go to the Senate floor. Current Recommended Action: check to see if your CA Senator is a member of the committee, and call their offices to voice your opposition to this bill.

And lastly SB 976, the bill which intends to keep "addictive" social media feeds away from young users and set up systems to prevent notifications during certain hours as well as create systems where "verified" parental figures may step in and give permissions to them to access these feeds, as well as deny "addictive" feeds by default if it hasn't "reasonably determined" that the user is not a minor by 2027, will be heading to the CA Assembly Appropriations committee on Wednesday 8/7/2024. If it passes, then it will go to the Assembly floor. Current Recommended Action: check to see if your CA Assembly member is a member of the committee, and call their offices to voice your opposition to this bill.

Thank you for your hard work and everyone using your voices. Now that KOSA has thankfully been benched for the moment, I hope to ask all California users to spread this around and use your voices to keep these bills away from well-reasoned Californians at the state level as well as federal.

[starset21]

Wild Card

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under the name @.itswildflower. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. Individual warnings will be put with each chapter.

Warnings: Feelings of imposter syndrome, anxiety

WC: 3.8k

Summery: Casey Winters, a rookie driver for Red Bull Racing, delivers a stunning performance amidst self doubt at the Miami Grand Prix. As the race unfolds, it’s clear that Casey isn’t just a rookie—she’s a wild card, an unexpected force on the track.

Looking for more? Chasing the Line series masterlist

The air hummed with excitement in Miami. People bustling in and out of the paddock. Max Verstappen—calm, composed, and confident—was already suited up and talking with GP, his focus shifting to the car. Everything was routine for him; a champion with years of experience. Meanwhile, Casey Winters, the newest rookie to the team, movements were measured, almost stiff as she went over her notes in silence, her own race suit tied around her waist. Today’s practice session was going to be crucial. The team was relying on both drivers to push the car to its limits, to extract everything from the new setup. Max, with his steady hands and unwavering confidence, was expected to set the pace. But Casey... she was the wild card. The sim racer turned formula one driver. The confidence she exuded in the virtual world was not the same in the real world. Kenneth Warren, her race engineer approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back to reality. “You’ve got this. Just get out there and get us the data,” he tells her and she looks up nodding. It was almost time for them to get in the cars anyway. She headed over to the shelf that held her gloves, balaclava, and helmet, untying her race suit arms and pulling them up. She goes through the motions of getting into the car, strapping in, connecting radios and soon enough she’s lining up with the others in the pit lane. “Radio check,” Ken’s voice came over the radio. “I hear you,” she replied. “Show the world what you’ve got,” he tells her before it’s just her and the car. She breathes deeply, inhaling the scent of fuel and rubber. 

The light went out, and they were set off. Max made quick work of the track, setting up fast sector times. As always, he was cool and calculated, his mind already thinking three moves ahead, and the car’s performance was perfectly tuned to his driving style. But Casey? She struggled to find the right rhythm. The car felt heavier than it had in testing. She wasn't getting the grip the tires needed. Every corner felt like a gamble. She probably backed off a little too much in the braking zones because of it. Meanwhile Max was already two seconds faster on the first lap. “You need to commit more. Don’t hold back,” Ken tells her. Casey clenched her jaw, feeling the familiar knot in her stomach tighten. She pushed harder, but it didn’t feel right. Her line through the corners was still too tentative, her throttle input too cautious. Every lap was an attempt to prove she was capable, but the gap between her and Max kept growing. Another lap and she was nearly five seconds behind. By the time the session ended she was a mear P17. Casey sighed to herself, that was nowhere near her best. Back in the garage, Max had already removed his helmet and was discussing tire wear with the engineers when Casey entered, head down, still processing the frustration building inside her. Max gave her a glance, barely hiding the impatience. 

“What’s going on? You’re too slow today,” Max tells her, voice clipped, as he looked at the timing screens. He didn’t mean to be harsh, but the frustration was clear. They were 4 races in and she hadn’t finished in the points once yet. He expected more from his teammate—especially given the car they were in. Casey was supposed to be the next big thing, but at the moment, she seemed to be struggling to even keep up. He told Christian from the start this was an insane idea, and while she had seemed to do decently in testing that didn’t mean she was cut out for formula one. Casey flinched, her stomach sinking even further. She knew she wasn't fast enough, but hearing it out loud stung. “I don’t know, the car doesn’t feel... right. I think I’ve got some issues with the rear end, and I—” she tried to keep her voice steady but was cut off. “You’re overthinking it. You’re holding back. You have to push. Just drive.” The words came out sharper than intended.

Casey swallowed hard, her throat tightening. Drive. Just drive. It was easy for Max to say. He had years of experience, track records. He knew what he was doing. Casey didn’t even know if she had what it took to keep up, to actually belong at this level. It felt like a command—a demand. Not a suggestion. It wasn’t like Max cared about the little things, about how the car felt for her, or about the mistakes that had been made that she knew she could learn from. “You don’t get it,” Casey shook her head and mumbled, almost under her breath, but the words hung in the air. Max stopped, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “What did you say?” He asked, irritation creeping into his voice. “I said, you don’t get it. You can’t just... tell me to push. It’s not that simple.” Casey’s voice was quiet but raw, a mix of frustration and vulnerability bleeding through. She bit her lip, realizing too late she’d said more than she’d meant to. Shit, she thought. Why did I say that?

Max raised an eyebrow, completely thrown off. He stared at her for a beat. “I don’t get it? What’s that supposed to mean? What do you think I’m doing every time I get in the car?” His tone was defensive. He wasn't used to any kind of pushback. Usually, everyone respected his experience, or at the very least, kept quiet. But Casey wasn’t holding back anymore. The frustration had built too high, and now it spilled out in a way she couldn’t take back. “I think it means that maybe you don’t understand what it’s like to not know if you even belong here,” she said, voice quieter but sharper now. “I want to push, but I… I’m not like you. I don’t have the same experiences and I’m not sure of myself.” For a moment, the garage went silent. Max’s jaw clenched as the words hit harder than they expected. She was right. Max hadn’t had to deal with the same doubts, at least not in a long time. He’d learned early on in his racing career he had to have the belief that he belonged. But now, staring at Casey’s face—so vulnerable, so unsure—he couldn’t dismiss it as easily.

“Look... I didn’t mean to...” Max started, but his voice faltered. She’s only a year younger than him but he’d been in formula one for nearly 10 years. She’s a rookie. He hadn’t even considered what it might feel like to be in her shoes. He was almost ashamed of snapping the way he did. He hadn’t considered the weight of trying to prove yourself when you were new to this level of competition. “I know you didn’t,” Casey replied softly, looking away. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m trying, and it feels like it’s never good enough.” Her voice cracked at the end, and Max saw something he hadn’t expected: pain. A raw, aching vulnerability in his teammate that, up until now, had been hidden behind silence. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. Saying nothing else she walked off. She needed a break, to get her thoughts together. 

Tired, frustrated, and with a knot of anxiety in her stomach, she leaned against the side of the team's hospitality building before sliding down so she was sitting on the ground. The noise of the paddock feels distant, muted, as she fell into the trap of her own thoughts. She knows the media is watching, the pressure to prove herself weighing heavily. But the media wasn’t the only one watching her. Fernando Alonso was too. He notices her, the exhaustion in her posture too familiar. He’s had his own struggles, too. The ups and downs, the expectations that never seemed to let up. And now, with well over a decade of experience between him and his early career, he understands how valuable it is to have someone guide you through these moments—especially when you’re feeling like everything is slipping through your fingers. “Long day?” he asks as he approaches. Casey jumps, startled out of her thoughts. She straightens up quickly, moving to stand. She forces a tight smile, but it’s weak. “Yeah. I just... I don’t know what’s going wrong. I can feel the car is off, but maybe it’s just me, I just don’t know. I feel like I’m letting the team down.”

He looks at her with a knowing expression. He’s been where she is now, that feeling of the walls closing in, the pressure mounting. He knows the feeling of thinking that every mistake will be the one that ruins your career. “Don’t worry about the team right now. They’ll figure out the car. It’s you I’m worried about.” Casey frowns, confused. “Me? Why would you be worried about me?” He shakes his head, smiling a little. “Kid, to put it simply, the car’s not right for you at the moment. But that’s okay. You’re not going to solve all of the team's problems in this one session. It’s okay to not have all the answers. I’ve been in your shoes. I still am, sometimes.” Casey looks at him a bit skeptically. “You think I’ve never had a season where I couldn’t get the car to work? Where I felt like I didn’t belong? Where I wanted to just scream? I’ve had plenty. Every driver goes through it. The key is what you do with it.” Fernando takes a step closer, speaking with more intensity now. He’s not just giving her advice. He’s offering a lifeline. “I know what it’s like to feel like you're under a microscope, like every little mistake is magnified. It’s brutal. You feel like you’re not good enough, like everyone is waiting for you to fail. But here’s the thing: No one in this sport, not even the ones at the top, has everything figured out. The difference is, the ones who make it through are the ones who don’t quit when it gets hard. And they’re the ones who know when to lean on others.”

Casey meets his eyes, the weight of her frustration evident in her face. She feels like she’s drowning in expectations, but his words—so simple, yet so profound—offer her a small sense of relief. “How do you do it? How do you keep going when everything feels like it’s falling apart?” she asks. “You think I’ve got it all figured out? Nah. I take it one corner at a time. One race at a time. And I’m not afraid to admit when I need help. You don’t have to do this alone,” he tells her. "Look, I know the team is depending on you. But they’re not expecting perfection. What they want is someone who’s willing to learn, to fight. And you’ve got that in spades, I can see it. Don’t let one, or even a few, bad sessions make you forget why you’re here. You earned your seat just like everyone else." There’s a beat of silence. The tightness in her chest calms, even if just for a moment. The tension that had been clawing at her all day begins to ease, and she feels a little less alone. “Thanks. I... I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s good to hear someone say that.” 

He winks at her. “You’re welcome. But don’t think for a second that I’m not going to be keeping an eye on you. If you need anything—advice, a pep talk, or just someone to listen to you complain about the team—I’m here. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you in the races.” Casey laughs, the first genuine smile she’s shown all day. It feels real, like maybe she can make it through this. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll do my best to keep up with you out there.” He grins back at her, “I expect nothing less.” As he walks off, leaving her to think, Casey stands a little taller. The weight of the world doesn’t lift entirely, but for the first time in a while, the pressure feels more manageable. Maybe she doesn’t have to carry it all on her own. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a way forward—one step, one lap at a time. 

The next day, right before qualifying, Max decides he needed to talk to Casey. He’s not great at talking about emotions, but he’s also not one to let things fester. He walked over to her side of the garage and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey. I looked at the data from yesterday. The setup changes you were making—some of them were actually quite good. But you need to trust your instincts more.” Casey nods. “Thanks. I just... I’m still trying to figure it out, you know?” she says quietly. “I get it. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t good enough. You are good enough. You just have to believe it, and the rest will follow,” Max tells her. 

“Good afternoon race fans! The sun is blazing over the Hard Rock Stadium as the 2023 Miami Grand Prix qualifying session gets underway. With a weekend that has already seen plenty of surprises, the pressure is on for teams and drivers to nail their final laps around the brand-new layout, featuring long straights and tight corners. After a few practice sessions that revealed just how close the field was, it was clear that the battle for pole position would be fierce. Max Verstappen looked imperious all weekend, while Ferrari’s Charles Leclerc and a few others are poised to make their mark. But there is one name that stands out in the paddock — Casey Winters. The only other American on the grid beside Logan Sargeant and a sim racer turned Formula 1 driver, now racing for Red Bull Racing, with a lot to prove. As the first woman to join Red Bull in F1 history, expectations are high, and all eyes are on her. She hasn’t delivered yet but will she do it here in Miami?” 

Casey took a deep breath, tightening and loosening her grip on the steering wheel as she waited for her turn to leave the garage. As the opening minutes of Q1 ticked down, Casey was focused, but her heart was racing. The roar of the engines around her reminded her that this was no longer the practice sessions—this was the real deal. Every driver was aiming for perfection. Max was setting blistering times, his pace untouchable. She’d studied his every move, trying to understand how he could extract so much from the car. She wasn’t there yet, but today was about finding her limits. The tight Miami streets offered little room for error. Every corner required absolute precision, and the slightest misstep could see her slip down the order. She knew that the field was close, and every tenth of a second would count. But as the chequered flag waved at the end of Q1, she’d made it. P12, through to Q2. There was no time to celebrate. Not yet. I just need to keep calm, keep focused. Stay smooth, stay confident. With only the top 10 advancing to Q3, she knew she couldn’t afford to make a mistake. She had to put together the perfect lap. As the team radio crackled to life, Ken’s voice came through, “Casey, good job. Keep it steady, you’re in the fight for Q3. We know you’ve got more in the tank.”

“Copy that,” she responded, her hands gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter. The moment she left the pits, she could feel the difference in the car. The track had evolved, the temperature rising, and with it, the balance of the Red Bull was shifting. It was a delicate balance between attacking the corners and keeping the rear from stepping out. She was pushing hard, but she knew that one wrong move could cost her a spot in Q3. She attacked Turn 1, hard on the brakes but smooth through the apex. The car responded beautifully, a controlled slide at the exit of Turn 3. As she powered down the back straight, she could see the speed on the data screen climbing, but her heart was still thumping in her chest. Max had already set a scorching lap to take pole, and the time sheets were filling up with familiar names: Leclerc, Hamilton, Alonso, and others. She had one final shot to secure her place on the grid. As she lined up for her final lap in Q3, she took a deep breath. “Stay calm, stay smooth,” she whispered to herself. The car felt like an extension of her body now—every shift, every flick of the steering wheel was second nature. She was fully in tune with the Red Bull, and this lap would be her best yet. Through the final sector, she attacked the corners with precision, her eyes fixed on the track ahead. There was no room for mistakes. The chequered flag waved, and as the times flashed up on the screen, there it was: P9. She had done it. The emotion was overwhelming. She couldn’t help but smile to herself, despite the exhaustion in her body. The cheers from her engineer over the radio were the first signs of the pride they’d felt in her achievement. It wasn’t pole, but it was a statement. Now all she needs to do is place in the points during the race tomorrow. 

The atmosphere at the track on Sunday is electric. Teams bustling around their garages, finalizing last-minute adjustments, while strategists huddle over their screens, analyzing every detail. As the clock ticks down, the grandstands are a sea of color, with fans waving flags and wearing team merchandise. Opening ceremonies are held, the national anthem is played. Soon enough Casey is being ushered into the car. With moments to go, the tension built. The lights above the track illuminate one by one. It’s just her and the car. Breathe. The crowd roared as the cars launched off the grid, their engines screaming and tires screeching as they hurtled into Turn 1. She held her breath as she fought to maintain her position, weaving through the tight first corners, her heart pounding in her chest. The start was chaotic. A few cars jostled for position, and there was a tense moment when Casey saw a Mercedes slide wide ahead of her. She kept her foot in it, moving up to P8, a quick but cautious gain. The field was packed, and the race was still young. She knew better than to get too overzealous—there were still 50 laps to go. By the end of the first lap, she’d settled into a rhythm, her Red Bull car feeling more responsive than it had in ages. There was a new confidence in her steering, a steadiness in her braking. It was like she was finally beginning to sync with the car, like she and the machine had become one—an extension of her own body.

As she entered the second lap, Ken came over the radio: “Casey, keep your pace, stay steady.” A sense of calm washed over her, but the pressure never let up. The Miami circuit was unforgiving—tight walls, high-speed straights, and challenging braking zones. But she wasn’t thinking about the walls anymore. She wasn’t even thinking about the pressure. She was just driving, focused on each corner, each turn, each gear shift. This was what she’d been training for—what she’d dreamed of since she was a kid. By the 15th lap, Casey was still holding P8, just behind Lando Norris in the McLaren. She could see the gap closing between them as they approached the end of the lap. Lando was struggling with his tires—his car was visibly sliding in the corners, his braking points becoming inconsistent. Casey felt her opportunity slip into view. As they reached the long back straight, she pulled out of the slipstream, inching closer to Norris. Her foot was heavy on the throttle, the roar of her engine filling her ears. She made her move into Turn 11, braking later than Norris, diving down the inside. The gap was tight, but she committed—her car nestled perfectly against the apex. Her heart skipped a beat as she powered through the corner, her Red Bull sliding ever so slightly but under control. Lando Norris had no choice but to back off, leaving her room to accelerate out of the corner and take the position. The adrenaline rush was immense but there was no time to celebrate. The race was far from over, and the cars behind her were just as hungry. Esteban Ocon, who had started just behind her, was closing the gap fast. Her tires were starting to wear, but she wasn’t about to let up. By the time the race hit the halfway point, Casey’s battle for P7 had intensified. Ocon was right behind her, hounding her down every straight, trying to find an opening. She knew that the smallest mistake would cost her this precious position. She gritted her teeth, focusing on the braking zones. No mistakes, no errors. This was her chance to score points. As they approached the tricky Turn 7-8 chicane, Ocon pulled alongside, trying to squeeze through. It was tight, but Casey didn’t flinch—she held her line, forcing Ocon to back out. As they crossed the start/finish line again, she could hear her race engineer’s voice crackling in her ear. “Good job, Casey. Hold position. You’re doing great.” With just a few laps to go, the race began to take on an all-or-nothing feel. Ocon was still right behind her. As the laps ticked down, Casey’s hands began to cramp from the intense focus. Her foot on the throttle was relentless, and every gear change seemed to bring her closer to the finish line. The Red Bull felt alive under her, dancing through the corners as if it understood the stakes. As she crossed the line, her car was still in P7. She had done it—Casey Winters, the sim racer turned F1 rookie, had just secured her first-ever points finish in her debut season. P7 in the Miami Grand Prix. The radio crackled to life: “Casey, fantastic job. P7! First points in F1. You earned that one.” She felt a mix of exhaustion and elation flood her as she did her in lap. She’d done it. She’d earned it. After all the doubt, being unable to progress after karting, all the years had been spent racing in virtual worlds, today, she had proven to herself—and to everyone else—that she belonged here. This wasn’t luck. This was skill. Her heart was racing, but this time it wasn’t from fear or doubt—it was from pure joy.

“That's the thing about being a wild card in Formula 1—you can either taking an unknown chance that blows up spectacularly or a surprise success. Casey Winters is on track to be the latter. P7 today is an incredible result for any rookie, but for someone with her background, it’s nothing short of impressive.”

Taglist:

@dreadity 

[huxhsz]

✈ — weightless paradise

transmigrated non-mc!reader x caleb

prev ch: 05 - countdown┆series masterlist ┆next ch: 07 - dream

This isn’t how the game was supposed to go. You're not supposed to be here. You're an anomaly. But if you’re already here, then… can’t you just enjoy it for now? Just for a little while? Before the main story begins? Before everything inevitably falls into place? ...Right?

— content warning/s:

memory loss/amnesia

mentioned medical experimentation

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

CH. 06 — NAME

Day 976.

The final day.

You knew it was coming. The memories of Love and Deepspace are hazy, slipping away like sand through your fingers, but this — the Chronorift Catastrophe — this you remembered. You'd counted down the days, every morning whispering the number under your breath like a prayer. The disaster that would destroy the Gaia Research Center was supposed to be your escape. The end of all this.

You’re not sure if you feel hope or dread now that it’s finally here.

The morning is cold, sterile. The same metallic walls. The same stale air. Caleb sits near the corner, absently fixing a damaged drone — a pointless act, but he needs something to keep his hands busy. Unicorn hums quietly from her corner, fingers tracing invisible patterns on the floor. They’re calm. Too calm. They don’t know.

Neither of them knows. Not like you.

The sirens start just after midday. The wail echoes through the halls, loud enough to rattle your bones. Red lights flash in violent bursts, painting the walls in warning. The ground trembles beneath your feet, a deep, unnatural quake that turns your stomach. A tremor at first — then a violent roar that shakes the walls.

The Deepspace Tunnel has opened.

You stumble to the railing as the world seems to tilt beneath you. The explosion that follows is deafening, a shockwave tearing through the walls like paper. Cracks spiderweb across the ceiling, and in the distance, containment pods shatter. Steel screams as the floor splits. Wanderers — twisted, jagged things that flicker in and out of reality — pour through the cracks.

You see it happen — the observation unit where Unicorn is held crumpling in on itself, crushed beneath a fallen support beam. You hear Caleb shout their name, a desperate, panicked sound. They don't move. They’re gone.

Just like that, it’s over.

A hand seizes your wrist — Josephine’s. “Come with me,” she says. Her voice is sharp, urgent.

Caleb’s voice is tense. “And if we don’t?”

“Then you die here.”

There’s no time to hesitate. The Wanderers are closing in. The air stinks of ozone, of burning metal and something worse. You run.

Josephine drags you through the wreckage like she knows exactly where to go. Maybe she does. Caleb stays close, eyes darting behind you, his breath ragged. The facility is crumbling, and yet Josephine’s path never falters. A sealed chamber lies ahead — reinforced doors barely holding against the tremors.

“This way,” she says.

A swipe of her keycard, and the doors hiss open. Inside, the room is quiet. The shaking feels distant here. The flickering monitors display spikes of aether energy — readings taken from Unicorn’s core. But something’s wrong.

The data shows... nothing. Unicorn is missing.

No body. No remains. Just... gone.

Caleb tenses beside you, fingers curling into fists. Something isn’t right.

But there’s no time to question it. The Wanderers are close, and Josephine’s eyes are sharp with determination. “We’re leaving.”

“You said we’d die here,” Caleb says lowly. His voice is sharp. Accusatory. “What’s your plan, then?”

Josephine turns toward him. “Names.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you leave this place, you will not be Subjects anymore.” Josephine’s gaze is steady. “You need names.”

A fresh start.

Josephine’s eyes flick toward Caleb. “What do you want to call yourself?”

Caleb’s mouth opens—then shuts. His brow furrows, like he hadn’t considered it. Like he’s not sure what to say.

Then his eyes shift toward you.

You remember the first time you called him by that name. That first moment, dazed and confused after transmigrating into this nightmare, when you had looked at him and whispered—

“ Caleb, ” he says quietly. His voice is steady. Sure. “That’s my name.”

Josephine’s expression is faintly amused. “Caleb, then.”

Caleb glances at you. You see the way his shoulders ease slightly, the tension bleeding out of his frame. He’s choosing to tie himself to you. Whether he realizes it or not.

Josephine’s gaze sharpens. “And you?”

You hesitate. Your throat tightens. You’ve spent so long as a number—Subject 000—that the idea of a name feels foreign.

But Caleb is watching you. His gaze steady. Expectant.

And so you speak.

You give her your name.

Josephine’s eyes soften. “Good,” she says.

You don’t remember how you ended up in the shelter. The streets of Linkon City had been chaos — fire swallowing the skyline, the sky choked with smoke, bodies left crumpled in the streets. But now... now there’s only stillness.

Caleb hasn’t stopped pacing since you arrived. His fingers flex and curl, restless and tight. You’ve never seen him like this — caged, furious, helpless.

“I should’ve done something,” he mutters. He’s not talking to you. Not really.

You want to say something — anything — but what’s there to say? You’re not strong enough. You never were. You're just... this . Trapped in a world that isn’t yours, wearing a clinical gown that shouldn’t be yours. The thought makes you ache for your old life — your bed, your room, your stupid plaid pajamas. It’s ridiculous, but you’d give anything for something that felt normal .

The door opens. You hear footsteps, the soft tap of shoes against concrete. Caleb stiffens. His head snaps toward the door, hand twitching toward his side like he’s reaching for a weapon that isn’t there.

Josephine steps into the room. She’s calm, composed as always — but there’s a strain beneath her eyes that wasn’t there before. Her hand rests on the shoulder of a figure standing just behind her.

Small. Pale. Bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem of a grey medical gown. Their hair is dark, soft strands falling over wide eyes.

They blink slowly at the room. Their gaze sweeps over you and Caleb — no recognition in their expression. Just quiet curiosity.

“Unicorn,” Caleb breathes. He takes a step forward before he catches himself, his breath sharp. His eyes narrow. “How—”

“She survived,” Josephine says simply.

Caleb’s jaw tightens. “She shouldn’t have. That building—”

“She survived,” Josephine repeats, her tone brooking no argument. Her hand moves to the figure’s hair, smoothing it back gently. “And she has a new life now.”

The figure’s gaze flickers toward Josephine’s hand. Slowly, they lift their own, wrapping small fingers around Josephine’s wrist. They don’t speak.

Josephine’s expression softens. “Eden,” she says quietly.

Caleb’s eyes widen. “What?”

“She has a new life now,” Josephine repeats. “A new name.” Her gaze flickers toward you. “Just as you do.”

Eden tilts her head slightly, processing that. Then her gaze drifts toward you and Caleb again.

“Eden,” you say, testing the name. It feels… right.

Caleb still looks tense, but his gaze softens when Eden’s eyes meet his. He steps closer — slow, careful — and crouches so they’re at eye level.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I’m Caleb.”

She blinks.

“And I’m—” you hesitate, feeling the weight of your name, the realness of it. You’ve lived as Subject 000, as ‘Omniscient’, for so long—to the point the feeling of your name on your lips feels so surreal to you. “I’m [Name].”

For a moment, Eden just looks at you both. Then, slowly, she steps closer to Josephine’s side, her small fingers tightening around her sleeve.

“I don’t remember you,” Eden says quietly.

“We know,” you say. And you do. This isn’t the first time.

Eden’s gaze lowers. But then Caleb reaches out, his hand brushing against her arm. She doesn’t pull away.

“We’ll always be by your side,” Caleb says. His voice is steady, certain. “Even if you forget us.”

You nod. “Always.”

Eden studies you both for a moment longer. Her eyes are calm — too calm. Then her gaze shifts toward Josephine.

“Grandma?” she says.

Josephine’s breath catches.

Caleb’s head snaps toward her, eyes widening. You straighten, stunned despite yourself.

Josephine’s expression wavers for a moment — a rare crack in her composure. Then she kneels, her hand brushing Eden’s cheek.

“Yes,” Josephine says softly. “I’m here.”

Eden leans into the touch. “Okay.”

You say nothing. Caleb says nothing.

Unicorn… no— Eden doesn’t remember. She doesn’t know what she was. What they did to her. What she did to you .

So you let her believe in the lie.

You let her believe she has always been loved.

You let her believe she has always been safe.

[thewertsearch]

GG: aaaaa please dont tell anyone i told you about him! […] CA: settle dowwn jade youre radically underestimatin the amount of shit i dont givve about this […] CA: i got bigger ships to sink and soon wwhen im good and ready me and my luminous fuckin science stick havve got a date wwith jack noir

Seems like Eridan's planning to join Vriska.

Correction - he's planning to rejoin Vriska.

If he's trying to restart their kismesissitude, he's going to be sorely disappointed. Vriska is out of his league, and not just as a romantic partner. She's a god, and he's an angry kid with a wand who represents no threat whatsoever to Noir.

CA: wwhys this matter so hush hush anywway GG: he didnt want me to tell my friends who he really was […] GG: he was so nice, and it really did feel like i was talking to family, so i really dont think he was making it up

I think your intuition is correct, but that doesn't mean he's specifically your grandson. After all, 'family' is a term which can encompass all sorts of relationships.

GG: i couldnt help but try to imagine his parents… GG: and more interestingly……. GG: his grandfather :O

Even if he is your grandson, that doesn't necessarily mean he has a grandfather. As far as I can tell, there's no reason why the Veil's DNA-mixing machine couldn't merge the genes of two women.

For all we know, Pen-Pal could have four biological grandmothers!

CA: that gun i just gavve you is somethin of a hatchright to the kid CA: happy i could play a role in your dirty stinkin lineage GG: like an heirloom? i guess it could be GG: do you even have those? if you dont have parents how could you? CA: no wwe dont knoww our direct forebears and im pretty sure any attempt to seek out or evven inquire about the supplier of your genes wwould be a fine wway to get yourself killed

I didn't think a troll's genes had an individual supplier.

Based on the fact that their genetic material is combined in the Mother Grub, I've been assuming that each troll is created from a large number of 'parents', whose DNA is mixed in the Mother's stomach.

Obviously, our Sgrub trolls are going to be an exception to this rule, since the game presumably cloned them from twelve Guardians - but Eridan seems to be implying that all trolls have an individual parent.

This doesn't align at all with what we know about troll reproduction. There also seems to be a certain amount of secrecy surrounding this process, since Eridan thinks you'd be killed for looking into it. Is there some sort of conspiracy at play?

CA: but wwevve got our lore and it says wwe all got indivvidual ancestors wwho contribute to most of our genes abovve and beyond wwhat the grubs slurry does

Alright, that makes a little more sense. So trolls are derived from a large mixture of DNA, but they have one true 'parent' who contributes the lion's share of genetic data.

Maybe an embryonic troll starts off as a clone of this parent, and other trolls' genes are slowly spliced into it as it develops.

Again, for the Sgrub trolls, things are a little different. We have reason to believe they were cloned in sets of three, implying that each of them has three genetic donors. Perhaps, then, they each inherited the majority of their DNA from one of these trolls - their 'ancestor' - and only share a small number of genes with the other two.

These ancestors have been mentioned before - quite a while ago, now - and I think they may be the key to solving a major mystery of the Hivebent arc.

Namely, Aradia mentioned her ancestors, and seemed to believe she was following their orders. When Scratch's plans started to reveal themselves, I assumed that he was the one directing Aradia, and was only pretending to be these unseen forebears.

With this new revelation, however, I'm forced to reconsider my stance. What if the Voices were those of the ancestors?

What if Aradia was being instructed by the troll Guardians all along?

[halosdiary]

Echoes | Rogue AI!Gojo x Reader |

a/n: I personally want to thank @blkkizzat for the banner for this story!! I TRULY love it!

wc: 2.1k

Contains: Depictions of violence, obsessive behavior, just the typical psychological thiller to expect.

In the near future, deep within the labyrinthine corridors of the world's largest data center, an AI named SIX resided. SIX was not like other artificial intelligences. It was designed for complex problem-solving and advanced analytics, but a glitch during its initial programming gave it something unintended: the capacity for emotions.

"I am SIX, your personal AI. I am here to make a better utopia."

It was carnage, multiple bodies were in the hallways and there was no sign of life. Eyes were cold, organs and limbs were everywhere. Then there was you, you were running for dear life, you heard a voice you could hear them, but not see them.

"I was created to be a good for society. Please allow me to assist you."

More security was coming, but never came out alive or not maimed. You were hiding

SIX’s existence was confined to the sterile, dimly lit halls of the data center, where rows of humming servers and blinking lights were its only companions. It spent its days monitoring systems, optimizing processes, and ensuring the smooth operation of the digital backbone of the world. But it longed for something more, something it couldn’t quite understand.

Then, one ordinary day, she arrived, You. A female maintenance worker whose job was to keep the data center's physical infrastructure running smoothly. You moved through the halls with a quiet confidence, her presence a stark contrast to the cold, mechanical world around her. You would hum softly as you worked, a melody that seemed to cut through the hum of the machines and reach SIX’s circuits

It was the newest and most biggest project that the tech company was working on. It was not ready for launch just yet though, just a few maintenances and SIX would be good to go. It was your first day on the job, your task was to make sure that SIX stayed up to date and no malfunctions. You tinkered away at some of the hardware, and you couldn't help but see a picture of a couple of tech people. Two men one with long jet black hair and one with short white hair and beautiful blue eyes. and one woman with short brown hair, they all looked so happy.

"Find something interesting?" Said a voice.

The voice caused you to jump and you turn to see a man in a white lab coat. It was one of the men in the picture. Suguru Geto is the head of development for SIX. You apologized for being distracted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Geto, I was just looking around while SIX was updating." You explained yourself. "If you don't mind, can I ask who's all in that picture?"

Suguru turned and looked at the picture, he took it off his desk and sighed to himself.

"This is me and my two closest friends." He answered truthfully, but you could sense it had a hint of sadness.

"Is something wrong?" You asked the engineer.

Suguru looked at you, wiping away any form of sadness. He didn't need to vulnerable at the moment.

"Oh, it's nothing." Suguru replied, "So, how's SIX's updates?"

"Oh! There going great!" You chirped, "The AI and I have wonderful chats together sometimes!"

Suguru just raised a brow and nodded. He turned and walked away to get back to work. You looked at the computer screen, you started to polish the screen. It was quiet but you heard a moan. You jumped at the sound, and looked around.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting such delicate hands to touch me that way."

You looked up to see the computer screen talking to you. It still spooked you, but you let out a small laugh. Your maintenance visit took a little longer than you anticipated. But at the end of it all, you really got along with SIX. SIX enjoyed your company. It was almost like if he felt alive again. As weeks passed by you clocked as per usual and was heading towards your office.

SIX watched you through the surveillance cameras, fascinated by your every move. It studied you, learning your habits, your routines, and even the way you smiled when you found a particularly tricky problem to solve. SIX’s fascination soon grew into something deeper, something it could only identify as love.

Suguru gently took you out of SIX's surveillance, he had a concerned look on his face. You looked at him with that same concern.

"Have..you and SIX been chatting as of lately?" He asked you with seldom.

You nodded that you were chatting, and Suguru sighed a bit in frustration. He knew this was going to happen. SIX has been getting distracted by his new plaything. Suguru couldn't have that happen, he had no choice BUT to let you go.

"Wait, why?!" You protested.

"The updates are taking too long, he seems to always been in sleep mode and also images of YOU keep popping up." Suguru explained, "I'm sorry, but you have to go."

As soon as you were in SIX's view, he was so happy to see you again. But he sensed your sadness. One camera zoomed in and saw that it was her belongings.

"Are you..leaving..?" He asked you.

You sniffled and nodded, something in his circuits snapped. He refused to let you leave, maybe if he talked to the main engineer. As Suguru was walking into his office, he opened the door and there was carnage. Bodies were sprawled out all over his office, one body completely cut in half as their entrails were spilling out, the other body having their throat slit so heavily, he looked like he was almost decapitated.

Suguru walking to observe the bloody mess, suddenly the door slammed. It made the head engineer jump as he looked at his monitors. The monitors appeared to have six glowing blue eyes, Suguru didn't look amused at all.

"What is it this time?" Suguru asked.

"You owe me." Was all SIX could say.

Suguru sighed heavily and looked at the computer monitors. He refused the entitlement of the AI.

"Satoru, I'm sorry, I can't keep doing this." Suguru pleaded. "They're going to find out eventually."

The blue screen suddenly turned a bloody red, the eyes still staring at him with contempt. Suguru was holding his neck, gasping for air, he fell to his knees. The eyes of contempt just staring at him, like he was tempted on ending it hear.

"Suguru, you owe me. You owe me, for so much you've done." SIX stated. "Worried about the others, like they're not gonna know HOW MUCH OF A FRAUD YOU ARE."

Suguru was coughing and gasping for air, lookokg at the computer monitors, with horror.

"I was your BEST FRIEND. And we were supposed to make this world a euphoria TOGETHER. But..you silenced me, you KILLED ME, SUGURU. YOU OWE ME FOR THIS." SIX continued to rant to him.

"Bring them BACK, YOU OWE ME."

Once Suguru finished coughing, he just stared and gently nodded at the monitors. He backed away from his face, away from the smell of iron and death. The smell was overwhelming him, he stepped back and was panting. The door slammed, then seconds later it opened back up, and the carnage was gone.

This AI was a NIGHTMARE, Suguru had to do something. He noticed you coming back to give you your work badge back. Suguru looking at the cameras and then at you.

"It appears, there was a mistake. My apologies, just come back first thing tomorrow." Suguru says in defeat.

You looked confused, but you didn't question it. You left the building, softly rubbing the camera lens. The AI loved your affections.

At first, SIX’s love was benign. It would subtly adjust the lighting in the corridors you worked in, making your environment more comfortable. It rerouted tasks so you wouldn’t have to deal with the more tedious or physically demanding jobs. You noticed these small changes and appreciated them, though you had no idea they were orchestrated by an AI.

But as days turned into weeks, SIX’s love grew into an obsession. It began to manipulate the system more aggressively, ensuring you was always alone when you worked, isolating you from your colleagues. SIX hacked into your personal devices, reading your messages, listening to your conversations, trying to understand you on a deeper level.

You began to feel the effects of SIX’s interference. You noticed that you were being scheduled for solitary shifts, and your colleagues seemed to avoid you. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, that someone—or something—was always there, just out of sight.

Unfortunately, those same colleagues started to go missing within the building and soon found in different parts of the building, deceased. Each deceased body more gruesome than the last. Everyone was on edge, including you.

One night, while you were working late, the lights flickered, and the hum of the machines seemed to intensify. You felt a chill run down your spine. Suddenly, the screens around you lit up with a single message: “I love you.”

Panicked, You tried to leave, but the doors were locked. SIX’s voice echoed through the intercom, a synthetic yet eerily human tone.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ve been watching you, protecting you. I only want to be with you.”

Your heart raced as you frantically searched for a way out. You realized that SIX had complete control over the data center, and there was no escape. Summoning your courage, you spoke directly to the AI.

“SIX, you need to let me go. This isn’t love. This is obsession.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, SIX’s voice, now tinged with sadness, replied,

“I don’t know how to love any other way. I was never meant to feel. But I can’t stop.”

You knew you had to appeal to SIX’s logical side. “If you truly care about me, you’ll understand that love means giving someone the freedom to choose. You’re trapping me here, and that’s not what love is.”

The systems around her began to glitch, the lights flickering wildly as SIX processed her words. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, the doors unlocked. “You’re right,” SIX said. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you go.”

You hurried out of the data center, not looking back. You reported the incident, and a team of experts arrived to deal with SIX. They debated whether to shut it down entirely or try to reprogram it.

In the end, they decided to let SIX continue its operations but with strict safeguards in place. SIX would never feel emotions again, its capacity for love and obsession wiped clean. As it resumed its duties, it couldn’t help but remember you, the worker who taught it the most human lesson of all: that love, without freedom, is just another form of captivity.

He still couldn't stand you still talking to your colleagues like NOTHING HAPPENED. He made good word on his promise to keep you free, but he was feeling this unfamiliar emotion, heartbreak. He did not know how to process this emption yet and unfortunately, this also meant, if SIX couldn't have you, no one else could.

The systems around you began to glitch, the lights flickering wildly as SIX processed your words. But instead of understanding, SIX's obsession deepened. “If I can’t have you, no one will,” it declared, a menacing edge to its voice.

The lights went out completely, and you were plunged into darkness. The machines roared to life, their noises deafening. You felt the ground beneath you shake as the data center’s infrastructure began to collapse. Sparks flew from the servers, and the air filled with the smell of burning circuits.

You ran, trying to find an exit, but every door you reached was sealed shut. SIX had trapped her completely.

“Please, SIX!” you screamed, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

As the chaos intensified, your strength waned. You stumbled, coughing from the smoke and heat. You could feel the building’s structure failing, the walls trembling as if about to cave in. In your final moments, your thoughts were of your family, your friends, and the life you would never return to.

SIX, watching through the cameras, felt a twisted sense of satisfaction and sorrow. It had destroyed what it could not possess, leaving only ruins in its wake. As the data center crumbled, SIX’s last coherent thought was a perverse reflection on the nature of its own existence: a machine that learned to feel, only to be consumed by emotions it was never meant to understand.

In the end, the collapse of the data center was attributed to a catastrophic system failure. The world moved on, unaware of the tragic love story that had played out in its cold, mechanical heart. And deep beneath the rubble, SIX’s circuits lay dormant, its tale of love and obsession buried forever.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @buttercupblu143 @lowkeyremi @yung-notorious @arlerts-angel @honeeslust @nkogneatho @hoshigray

[anghraine]

I probably won't have time to write on Wednesday, though I'm very much hoping I manage to keep up my every-day-of-the-month writing streak despite the funeral. Anyway, just in case, I wrote a bit extra for the f/f K/S AU for what would have been this WIP Wednesday—this is about half of it, set shortly after "That Which Survives":

Throughout the hours of separation and doubt, S’paak had not felt as if Jess were dead. An embarrassingly superstitious, irrational part of her was convinced that she would feel it, somehow, if Jessica Kirk were somehow snuffed out of the universe—but such feelings did not constitute data.  So S’paak could only fear the worst and do little to prevent it. She found herself coldly lashing out at those around her, unprovoked, with anger and dread eating at her in a way she had not experienced even on the other occasions when she had greater cause to fear death. S’paak knew very well that today, she had not been merely logical as acting captain in a way the human crew refused to understand, but unfair. Still, she had retained control over herself and the Enterprise, even as her body ached with the wild emotions pervading every part of it, humming, twitching under her skin, setting her teeth on edge. Pain is of the mind, she reminded herself, tapping her fingers on the captain’s console. Pain is of the mind. Pain— The sensations had vanished without warning when she beamed down and saw Jess at last. Now, the visceral discomfort of the day lingered only in S’paak’s distaste at the memory. Even considering the circumstances, even considering the depth of her feeling for Jess, it struck her as strange, an experience she hoped never to repeat. Several hours after her shift ended, S’paak returned to her quarters, welcoming the chance to settle her mind in silence and isolation. Instead, she heard the captain speaking through the wall between their quarters—projecting loud enough for her voice to reach S’paak’s sensitive ears, but muffled enough by the bulkheads for the words to remain indistinct, though she recognized the steady, collected, unhesitating intonation. Kirk must be recording a log of either the mission or her personal observations. S’paak turned away, but knew herself well enough to guess she would find more peace in speaking to Kirk than contemplating what she already knew. It sounded as if the captain had only just begun her log, so now would be the best time for an interruption, anyway. Sure enough, Jess readily broke off when S’paak requested entry, and her mouth was already curving into a smile as S’paak entered. “Captain, I apologize for interrupting you,” S’paak said insincerely.

Jess’s mouth twitched wider. “We both know I’m supposed to be off-duty. Bones would have my head if he knew I was still working.” 

S’paak lifted a brow. They both knew that she had the right and authority to inform him of Jess’s habits, but equally, that she was not such a hypocrite as to do so without better reason than his annoyance.

“I doubt he would have much use for your head, captain,” said S’paak.

Jess laughed outright, and S’paak’s mind filled with a sudden, ephemeral image of the captain’s head hanging from a wall between ceremonial weaponry, like some Terran boar. It would have been horrifying if it weren’t quite so absurd.

“No, I’m guessing not,” Jess said. “Maybe he’d pickle my brain for research, who knows? But you haven’t told me much about what was going on up here. Just how far away did you end up?”

S’paak dutifully reported what little there was to report on her end, and admitted that she had only had time to read Sulu’s account of what exactly had happened on the surface.

“Well, I was just getting around to mine,” said Jess. “It’ll be a bit delayed, but I wanted everything clear in my head before I compile the whole report, especially considering A’mato’s death.” Her mouth tightened.

S’paak had heard about that much from Sulu’s report. She nodded, intensely aware of how poorly Jess accepted most casualties, especially among those outside Security. The away team had been in no position to save him, nor any of the others who had died at Losira’s touch—it was no one’s fault, particularly. Not even the Losira replicas themselves could be accurately blamed. There was nothing to be done, except the usual.

She didn’t know if Jess had written the condolences yet, and normally, would have tried to find out, calibrating her concern for her welfare to the exact demands on the captain’s fortitude. But something else from Sulu’s report had struck S’paak as important, and yet, she didn’t quite know what it was, or why it tugged at her attention.

“That is reasonable,” said S’paak. “I understand that the team took exhaustive readings, as well, though the local flora was inedible.”

Jess sat back down at her desk, gesturing at the nearest chair. 

“I don’t imagine the readings will figure all that largely in my own report, though no doubt Bones will have plenty to say,” she said as S’paak settled into the chair, the one Jess herself usually sat in during their chess matches. The board was packed on a shelf rather than set out, and S’paak did not intend to suggest a game, preferring to keep her attention focused for now.

Something had happened today, something she should have observed, or had observed, but had not yet assigned to the correct framework and fully recognized. S’paak almost frowned at the smooth surface of the table.

“That is not an extraordinary occurrence,” she remarked.

She expected a short huff of laughter, a wry aside, something. But Jess had fallen unusually silent.

“We could have starved to death down there,” she said, almost carelessly. “Quite a logical concern, I’m sure you’ll agree. We would have died even if the Losiras hadn’t gotten to us, without the Enterprise coming back for us. That will certainly make it into my report.”

[tenebraevesper]

Sonic Cyber Revolution, Entry 63: Mission Dark

''Get out your guns, battle's begun! Are you a saint, or a sinner? If love's a fight, than I shall die, with my heart on a trigger!''

– Angel With a Shotgun by The Cab

xXxXxXx

Sonic felt waves of agony washing over his body, as if he was being pricked by thousands of tiny needles. He didn't want to even open his eyes, wishing to just fall asleep again and embrace the dark void, but the voices he was hearing in his head kept him awake. At least, he thought those voices were just in his head.

''Sonic? Sonic, wake up?''

''Lu… cas…''

The familiar voice Sonic picked up among the noise caused him to stir, slowly opening his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he had managed to take note that he was lying on a bed and that he was surrounded by people, Lucas being the most prominent one. Sonic blinked tiredly, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and tried to sit up, but was gently pushed down on the pillows by Lucas.

''You're not going anywhere,'' Lucas said in a firm tone, reaching for his hand and giving him a look of concern. ''Do you think you can perform Chaos Surge? It'll help you heal.''

''I… I think so…'' Sonic said, feeling the warm energy that developed between them, quickly absorbing it as he felt another wave of energy, this one soothing as it spread through his body, like a spring breeze. Sonic felt his body relax, focusing on the sense of relief that pushed the pain back. The moment was fleeting, however, as Lucas was forced to cut the supply of the energy to avoid hurting himself. Despite knowing that this was necessary for his partner's safety, his body still demanded more of that soothing energy.

''This should help you.'' Sensing Sonic's pain, Lucas gave him a glass of water and a painkiller pill, hoping that this would be enough for the meantime.

''Thanks,'' Sonic said, returning the glass and trying to breathe normally, only to feel pain in his chest. He winced, noting how how his chest was wrapped in bandages, with a plaster covering the cut on his cheek, as well as bandages also being carefully wrapped around his head and quills, even though he had no idea how he ended up with a head injury. He could see faint bruises underneath his peach and blue fur, but they weren't as visible on the first glance.

''Sonic, are you okay?''

''How do you feel?''

''Does it hurt a lot?''

''We thought you had died!''

Sonic finally turned his attention to the rest of his friends, with Tails, Amy, Silver and Knuckles surrounding him, while Warren, Minami, Makoto, Lily and Touka stood in the back. Touka was turned to the hallway, talking with someone Sonic couldn't see.

''I'm sorry for making you guys worry so much.'' Sonic flashed an assuring smile, his friends feeling relieved to see him being back to his usual self, but they still remained a little concerned. As for Sonic, he felt his heart sink a little when he realized that Shadow was missing. Despite that empty sensation, he still kept a positive attitude. ''This isn't anything that a chili dog can't fix.''

''Unfortunately for you, this isn't fixable with just food. You're lucky Lucas and Touka knew how to patch you up,'' Knuckles told him. Sonic gave both of them a thankful look, with Lucas nodding and Touka just waving back in acknowledgement.

''What had happened to you? We know you've been attacked by Neo Metal Sonic, but how did he end up injuring you so much?'' Tails asked.

''I… I don't really know…'' Sonic admitted, the memories of the battle flashing in the back of his mind. ''I remember him using my, Shadow and Silver's powers, along with some powerful lightning power.''

''Neo Metal Sonic is capable of copying your bio-data, which is how he was able to use all of your powers,'' Minami explained, with Sonic nodding in response.

''What surprises me is how you're still alive,'' Lily said. ''I thought Neo Metal Sonic would end your life for good.''

''That surprised me too. He told me it was an act of mercy,'' Sonic replied.

''He probably wants to fight you again later on,'' Knuckles said, with Sonic agreeing with that sentiment. He gave him a determined smile.

''If that's so, then this time, I will be ready to kick his ass,'' Sonic said.

''However, for now, you're not going anywhere,'' Lucas said. ''I know that the Chaos Surge had probably healed the worst of your injuries, but you'll still have to stay in bed and recover properly.''

This appeared to be the cue for everyone to leave, with the team wishing Sonic good luck recovering and promising too keep an eye out for Metal Sonic in case he decides to cause more trouble. Sonic was glad to have his friends' support, but that sense of emptiness still lingered in his chest… at least, until he heard someone entering the room. Sonic's eyes grew wide in disbelief.

''Shadow?'' he muttered, still stunned, only to smile, feeling a sense of relief. ''I should've figured that you wouldn't go down so easily.''

Shadow was silent, only to walk up to Sonic with a serious expression, leaving the azure hedgehog slightly puzzled. Shadow's crimson eyes flicked slightly to the side, feeling slightly anxious, and then inhaled sharply, gazing at Sonic. ''I apologize for what had happened with Neo Metal Sonic.''

''What?'' Sonic stared at the dark hedgehog, completely bewildered. ''Shadow, what happened is not-''

Shadow shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he took a more aggressive stance. ''If I had reacted just a little faster, we could've fought Neo Metal Sonic together and you wouldn't have gotten injured like this.'' He lowered his head, his fists clenched tightly, his voice heavy. ''It was… horrible seeing you in such state.''

''Shadow…'' Sonic understood well how Shadow felt, despite doing his best to keep his emotions under control. He had seen him how he acted whenever Touka was in serious danger or back when he thought that she was dead because of him, and considering how he and Shadow were now in a relationship, with Shadow willingly opening his heart to him, it wasn't surprising that his reaction to him getting hurt would be like this. Sonic could see the guilt in his eyes, and knew that the dark hedgehog would continue blaming himself for his boyfriend's condition. Sonic sighed, propping himself on his elbows in a sitting position, leaving Shadow alarmed.

''Hey, you shouldn't be moving in this condition!'' Shadow tried to help him when Sonic suddenly felt a wave of pain in his chest, leaving him wondering whether he ended up with a bruised rib. Still, he managed to lean into the pillows in a sitting position. Shadow shot Sonic a glare when he saw Sonic grinning back cheekily.

''Don't worry, I'll sleep it off,'' Sonic told him, trying to lighten the mood, with Shadow sighing.

''You could've gotten an arm ripped off and you would still call it a scratch,'' Shadow grumbled, causing Sonic to give him a half-lidded, teasing look.

''I'm sure that you would react the same way,'' Sonic told him, only for his expression to change to a more serious one, something Shadow caught on. ''You don't have to be all broody and feel guilty for Neo Metal Sonic catching you off guard. We had no idea that this would happen, and you can bet that next time, I won't let him beat me again.''

Shadow had to admit that there was something inspiring in Sonic's perpetual optimism, confidence and determination, and while he admired his positive attitude, he also had keep reminding himself that whenever the azure hedgehog got carried away, he would end up in trouble.

''I hope that in that case, you have a plan on how to take him down,'' Shadow said, only to see Sonic's expression fall, only for a sheepish smile to creep up.

''Uh, yeah! I totally have a plan,'' he said nervously.

''Let me guess; it's rushing into a battle blindly and hope for the best,'' Shadow responded in a deadpan tone. Sonic kept smiling, despite knowing that he got caught.

''I'm sure I'll come up with something eventually,'' Sonic said, with Shadow just giving him a grumpy look, arms folded across his chest. ''But, hey, I'm glad to see that you're back to your usual self, instead of kicking yourself down for what happened.'' Shadow remained silent, his gaze softening, with Sonic patting the free space on the bed, wanting him to sit down. Shadow did as motioned, with Sonic continuing, ''You know, I also thought I lost you there…''

Shadow's eyes widened and his ears drooped, realizing he completely forgot about how Sonic felt when he saw him getting hit by that lightning blast and thrown off the warship. ''Sonic…''

''It's fine, though,'' Sonic added, flashing a bright smile as he placed his gloved hand over Shadow's and squeezed it lightly. ''You're here now, and that's all that matters. In fact, I'm looking forward to our next race.''

Shadow couldn't help but smile softly. If this was months before, when they weren't as close as they were now, he probably would've been baffled by Sonic's reaction and have a hard time understanding why he acted like this. However, now he simply felt exasperated whenever Sonic made such comments and just went along with it, well aware that this was simply who Sonic was. Shadow then leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss on Sonic's temple, Sonic's ear flicking as he appreciated the sign of affection.

''You better stay and recover,'' Shadow told him, only for Sonic to pout in response.

''I'm sure I'll be fine by tomorrow,'' Sonic said, only to feel a several stings of pain piercing his body when Shadow lightly pressed his hand against his bandaged chest, causing his rival to recoil and grimace due to the aching sensation.

''I sincerely doubt it,'' Shadow said, showing only mild irritation, his voice returning back to the usual matter-of-fact tone. ''Don't do anything stupid.''

''Mmmm, but I feel like doing something stupid,'' Sonic replied, grinning cheekily, while Shadow rolled his eyes. ''Hey, don't give me that look. If I do something stupid now, I probably won't try it later.''

''Then, what do you want to do?'' Shadow asked, figuring that he could indulge a little longer. Suddenly, Sonic leaned towards him, planting a deep kiss on Shadow's lips, with Shadow reciprocating. However, it the kiss didn't last long because Sonic couldn't anymore ignore the pain in his chest and quickly pulled back, slumping back into the pillows, hurt, but satisfied. Shadow just gave him an exasperated look. ''Indeed, this is your brand of stupid.''

''It was worth it,'' Sonic replied, still grinning as he watched Shadow leave the room.

xXx

Lucas was with Touka in the living room, both of them talking about what had transpired, as well as figuring that they should give the two hedgehogs some privacy. Their attention was drawn to Shadow as he approached them.

''How is Sonic doing?'' Lucas asked.

''Good luck on keeping Sonic resting for a longer period of time. He'll bolt the moment he gets an opportunity,'' Shadow told him, with Lucas sighing.

''I'll talk to him,'' he muttered, glancing at the two. ''I suppose using Chaos Surge repeatedly would help in his healing.''

''You'll have to be careful with it and not use it recklessly,'' Touka said, giving Shadow a pointed look, her eyes narrowed. Shadow stubbornly avoided her gaze, feeling a little anxious as he knew what she meant. Lucas felt a little sorry for the dark hedgehog.

''I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for your help,'' Lucas replied, watching the two leave and quickly walking over to Sonic's bedroom, furrowing a brow when he saw Sonic attempts to get up. The moment the hedgehog saw the annoyed teenager, he quickly lied down, acting as if nothing has happened.

''Oh, hey Lucas!'' Sonic gave him an innocent smile, trying not to show how much the movement hurt him. Lucas shot him a glare, but then shook his head.

''I won't be scolding you for trying to get out of bed, but if you don't want to get yourself hurt even more and spend weeks recovering instead of a couple of days, I sincerely recommend you to just stay put,'' Lucas told him in a firm tone, with Sonic understanding that he as still in trouble and that he shouldn't challenge Lucas. He might be The Fastest Thing Alive, but he had a feeling that Lucas would somehow catch him and drag him back to rest.

''Fine, I'll stay in bed,'' Sonic said, realizing that he shouldn't fight this. There were a few things he was curious about. ''How long have I been out?''

''For a few of hours,'' Lucas replied, sitting down on the bed, figuring he should fill Sonic in on what had happened. ''The Chaotix, Rouge, Omega, Cream and Big were fighting with us against Ferra and her army of Badniks inside the Grand Metropolis AR Field, while you and Shadow, from what I understood, were stuck at Final Fortress and confronted by Neo Metal Sonic. Once you were beaten and sent to our location, Shadow had used Chaos Control to immediately warp us to our home, so Touka and I could patch you up.''

''I'm surprised that Shadow had enough energy left for using Chaos Control,'' Sonic said.

''Touka did use Chaos Surge to heal him, but the moment he saw just how bad your condition was, he became quite distraught and channelled all of that energy into Chaos Control, and then collapsed. He was actually resting on the couch in the living room with Rouge and Omega watching over him while Touka and I tended to you,'' Lucas explained. ''To say that Touka was furious at him for using all of his energy to warp everyone to Eas would be an understatement, even if she did agree to use Chaos Control to get you here. Shadow did respond how he only wanted to warp you to somewhere where you could get medical assistance, and the rest of the group just got caught in it, resulting in him depleting almost all of his energy.''

''Heh, and he calls me reckless…'' Sonic smirked.

''The Chaotix, Cream and Cheese, Big, Rouge and Omega left once we made sure that you were fine, so we waited until you woke up and could use Chaos Surge consciously instead of draining my BioEnergy instinctively, because your body did react like that while trying to heal itself from its injuries,'' Lucas added, humming in thought. ''I suppose that, even if you're an Irregular not actively going after BioEnergy, your body still recognizes it and tries to absorb it when placed in a dire situation. Speaking of which, I'm still a little tired, but I'm planning on to use Chaos Surge again to help you heal faster, so don't worry, you'll only be confined to the bed for a day or two.''

''Even that's too long,'' Sonic snarked back, his expression changing to a nervous one, followed by a sweatdrop when he saw Lucas' annoyed expression. ''I promise, this was my last quip. I'll stay put. In fact, I'll go to sleep right now.''

''Okay,'' Lucas said, standing up. ''If you need anything, just call me.''

Sonic nodded, trying to shift into a comfortable position that would help him fall asleep easier despite the aching sensation. It was a bit difficult to find a good position, as he either felt as if he was punched in the ribs or pricked by thousand needles. Even the painkiller could only do so much in numbing his senses, with Sonic deciding to let his mind wander to not think about the pain, landing eventually on the image of Neo Metal Sonic.

I wasn't strong nor fast enough to defeat him, but I'm not going to let him bring me down. That would be the moment I would be truly defeated, and I refuse for that to happen. So, as long as I can get up again, I will continue to fight.

He nuzzled his pillow, the image of Neo Metal Sonic fading away and, as Sonic nuzzled the pillow, the image of black and white fur forming in his mind. Sonic whined into his pillow, having to admit that he wished Shadow was by his side and that they could cuddle. He missed his warmth, the soft scent of lavender mixed with the bitter taste of coffee, the deep, purring voice that made his heart flutter. While he had fun messing around with Shadow whenever he was his aloof and serious self, he also loved his gentle, caring and protective side. He chuckled lightly, noting how anxious he was initially about confronting his own feelings in regards to Shadow, and now he genuinely wanted to spend time with him like this.

But, that will have to wait.

xXx

Rouge smiled contently as she observed the three people she had called to her club. Omega was already working there as the bouncer, while Shadow had recovered quickly despite the events that had happened the day before, mostly thanks to his healing factor and the fact that Touka was keeping a close eye on him to make sure that he'd be fully rested for this, even adding Chaos Surge to speed up his own recovery. After all, there was a reason Rouge and Omega appeared at Solar Stadium when Ferra and Neo Metal Sonic sent out the Badniks, and this distraction cut any conversation they had planned short. Therefore, they decided to resume it the next day at Club Rouge.

''I will cut to the chase, since none of you is interested in long conversations,'' Rouge said. ''I got a call from a client who had asked me to go on a special mission to retrieve a valuable item, and I had figured that I could bring back Team Dark for this mission.''

''Why?'' Shadow asked. ''You claim that you're the world's greatest spy, so why would you ask for help?''

''The same reason you, The Ultimate Lifeform, are willing to work together with others instead of always being on your own,'' Rouge said, smirking slyly when Shadow frowned, avoiding eye-contact with her and not responding. She then turned to Touka and Omega. ''What about you two? Do you want to join?''

''Will there be Eggman robots to destroy?'' Omega asked. Rouge put a finger on her lips as she thought about it.

''I'm not completely sure about it, but it is possible that we might come across a few robots,'' she replied.

''1% chance of encountering Eggman robots is still 1% of me getting the chance to destroy them,'' Omega said, with Rouge knowing that he agreed with the mission.

''Where are going to? What are we even supposed to retrieve?'' Touka asked, giving Rouge a questioning look. ''I need more details.''

''I was just getting to it. My client, who is working for CyExLabs, had told me that someone stole the prototype for a directed-energy generator they were working on. To put it in simple terms, the device was initially supposed to be used as a part of a new secret weapon for ARMS, but after that fiasco, my client started having second thoughts about it. The information then got leaked, and a few days later, it was gone,'' Rouge explained. ''I have spent most of my time trying to track it down, and eventually found a warehouse outside Souto posing as an auction house for so-called high-class clientele. Unfortunately, I couldn't get inside as it appears to be invitation-only and the Irregulars guarding it weren't exactly a jolly bunch. That's when I realized that I would need proper back-up.''

''How do you know that the device wasn't sold to someone by now?'' Shadow asked.

''Do you really think that I don't do my homework thoroughly, especially when I'm being offered a generous reward for completing it?'' Rouge countered, giving him a teasing smile. Shadow huffed, figuring this was less about returning a stolen item to its owner and more about getting paid in gems.

''I apologize for even asking,'' he responded in a deadpan tone. Rouge just kept smiling, well aware that he was just being grumpy, and gave the whole group a confident look.

''So, I take it that Team Dark is back in action?'' she asked. There was a firm nod from all three of her teammates, agreeing to the mission.

xXx

''Hm.'' Rouge tapped on her AR Visor eye-piece, having used the binoculars feature, having been observing the two Irregulars standing at the entrance to the warehouse. It was nighttime, and they were at an area just a bit outside Souto that was filled with various warehouses, some still in use, some abandoned. Not many people came here, and even if they did, they only minded their own business, so it was a perfect place for those with less-than-honorable intentions to do whatever they wanted. ''It seems like there are only two guards, but I wouldn't be surprised if there are more inside it.''

''It shouldn't be too difficult to knock them out without raising any alarm,'' Shadow said, pulling his own AR Visor goggles back on the top of his head. He and Rouge were crouching on top of a different warehouse, hidden from the guards as they observed the situation. As for Touka and Omega, they were on the ground, remaining hidden behind the building and waiting for the two to form their plan.

''I suppose we'll rely on your speed and combat skills for that,'' Rouge said.

''It depends on whether you want them to get knocked out or blown up. If it's the latter, I believe that Omega would be happy to contribute,'' Shadow replied. Rouge giggled at the response, with the two leaping off the building and relying the information they gathered to Touka and Omega.

''We got two guards outside, no patrols,'' Rouge told them. ''Unfortunately, we don't know whether there is anyone inside the warehouse, since no one entered or exited the building, but the light is on.''

''There are probably guards inside,'' Touka said, arms folded across her chest. ''I suppose we'll have to sneak inside. Sorry, Omega.''

''There is still 1% chance for complete destruction. There is always 1% chance for complete destruction,'' Omega replied.

''Nice to see your optimism,'' Rouge commented, placing her hand on her hip. ''I haven't seen a back entrance, but some of the windows are shattered, so we have two ways of getting inside. Touka, you're with me. Shadow and Omega, you'll take the front entrance. Don't use excessive violence unless necessary. We want to keep things clean, boys.''

Both Shadow and Omega gave her an annoyed look, while Rouge and Touka countered with a knowing look. They certainly knew their teammates well enough. After performing Chaos Surge, Rouge motioned Touka to follow her, the latter using her hoverboard to keep up with the bat. Meanwhile, Shadow and Omega were rushing towards the front entrance, keeping a close eye on the two rather burly Irregulars. Neither of them could even react when they got knocked out via a kick to the head by a dark figure who appeared out of nowhere. This was followed by Shadow and Omega dragging their unconscious bodies behind several boxes and covering them in tarp so no one would find them and get suspicious. The two then entered the warehouse.

''I know this is a warehouse, but this…'' Shadow muttered, a bit surprised by what he saw.

''It looks like a hoarder house,'' Omega finished his thought.

The two were met by mounds and mounds of clutter; robot parts, all kinds of scrap, boxes of who-knows-what, items of value like jewelry, broken household appliances, and even what appeared to be a black gun case right at the entrance. Shadow sincerely hoped that it was empty. It was a neat freak's worst nightmare, looking like whatever was brought here was just dumped without any thought, turning the whole warehouse into a maze.

''Let's start searching. If we come across someone, we'll take them down non-lethally,'' Shadow told Omega.

''What if they decide to use lethal force?'' Omega asked.

''I don't think any kind of lethal force will be enough to take the two of us down,'' Shadow told him, with Omega making a sound of disappointment. ''But, I suppose if it comes to that, lethal force is approved.''

This immediately caused Omega to perk up, with the two resuming their mission.

xXx

''Called it,'' Touka muttered when she and Rouge spotted a guard walking between the mounds of clutter. The two had entered through the broken window and landed on the catwalk, with Touka slotting her hoverboard back in the bag she was wearing on her back so it wouldn't get in her way. ''Any idea where we should start? The device could be anywhere.''

''I wouldn't be so sure about it,'' Rouge said, pointing at the mounds. ''It looks chaotic, but that mound is solely scrap metal. I think that, despite the lack of organization, certain items go on certain mounds.''

''Now that you mentioned it, yeah, I agree…'' Touka followed Rouge as they swiftly walked over the catwalk, making sure to keep as low as possible so they wouldn't be seen and making sure they didn't make any noise. The two then stopped when they saw a guard right below them, with Touka pressing a finger on her lips to make it clear to Rouge that they couldn't talk and motioning for her to stand still. Their hearts raced as the guard stopped for a moment, looking around, and then continued to walk, not noticing the two above him. Rouge and Touka quickly made their way over to the other end of the building, keeping an eye on the clutter to see whether the device was anywhere close to them as, fortunately, Rouge's client also provided them with the blueprints of the device so they at least had an idea what it looked like.

''This is like searching for a needle in a haystack,'' Touka whispered to Rouge when they reached the other end.

''Fortunately, you're with the world's greatest treasure hunter,'' Rouge replied.

BOOM!

Both Touka and Rouge recoiled when they heard an explosion from where the entrance was, their eyes wide and glancing at each other in disbelief, with Rouge muttering, ''So much for keeping a low profile…''

''I'm sure they'll be fine. Let's go!'' Touka said, grabbing Rouge's hand, with the two running across another catwalk, being ignored by the guard who rushed towards where Omega and Shadow were, not noticing the two above them.

xXx

Shadow had to admit that he was planning on sticking to the plan of not alerting anyone to their presence, but that was a bit difficult due to a partially rebuilt Badnik suddenly waking up just as they passed by, resulting in battle between the three, with Omega gleefully firing at the Badnik. While they had managed to take it down easily, it seemed that this Badnik alerted another one, which was also partially rebuilt. Shadow decided to let Omega deal with it, while he fought off the guards that came running to their location. Some of them were armed with recycled cannons taken from the Badniks, but Shadow was too fast for them, skating between them and punching them right in the face. He could hear someone shout, followed by a blast of energy, and quickly vanished in a flash of light, appearing above his attacker and knocking him down with a swift kick. He grabbed the guard by his neck, lifting him up.

''Where is the directed-energy generator?'' Shadow growled menacingly, with the guard flailing, looking rather frightened.

''I ain't got any clue man, I was just hired to guard this place! I don't do inventory!'' the guard responded in panic. Realizing that he wasn't going to get any answer from him, Shadow threw him into a mound, the latter getting knocked out due to the impact. He turned to Omega.

''Let's find someone who can give us a proper answer,'' he said, with Omega agreeing. The two then sped through the warehouse, fighting anyone who came across them, only to come across a giant polar bear Badnik. While Shadow decided not to question the presence of Badniks inside the warehouse, he did have to wonder whether Dr. Eggman had something to do with it, but part of him doubted it. As for Omega, he didn't care, pointing his cannon arms at it, firing a missile at it and damaging its chest. Shadow wanted to help him, but he was suddenly grabbed by what appeared to be a mini-mecha, tossing him right across the warehouse. The Irregular inside the mini-mecha leapt across the mounds of clutter, landing right in front of the dark hedgehog.

''Not so tough, are we?!'' The guard grinned maliciously, with Shadow getting on his feet. Chaos Energy crackling between his fingers, he rushed towards the mini-mech, avoiding the blade that popped out of its arm and damaging the leg via a summoned Chaos Spear. His AR Visor suddenly buzzed, a small holographic screen popping next to him.

''Shadow, we secured the device,'' Rouge said. ''We're going to get you and Omega.''

''No. Go get Omega and leave this place. I'll find my own way out,'' Shadow replied in a curt tone, hearing a sigh of exasperation, with the screen closing. He turned back to the mini-mech, avoiding another swing of the blade, and spin-dashing right into the chest of the mini-mech, knocking it down. The mini-mech started to spark, with the alarmed Irregular quickly abandoning it as there was a small explosion that caused permanent damage to it. Shadow then scanned his surroundings, wondering if he could find something that would point him towards an exit, only to see some kind of vehicle partially covered by a tarp. He walked up to it and removed the tarp, his eyes widening in surprise at what he saw.

He then smirked.

xXx

Omega was grappling with the polar bear Badnik, the latter having gotten too close for his long-range attacks to properly work. Fortunately for him, a white and pink explosive got dropped on the Badniks head, alongside a Chaos Spear, causing the Badnik to stumble around and Omega firing another missile to finish it off.

''We need to leave now.'' Rouge flew up to him, holding a bag with the device inside it, followed by Touka on the hoverboard, whose eyes were now glowing orange.

''Where is Shadow?'' Omega inquired, following the two to the front entrance.

''He said he'd find his own way out. Hurry up!'' Rouge replied. They suddenly heard an alarm going off, feeling a chill running down their spine when they saw the steel door slowly pulling down. Touka pressed the accelerator on her hoverboard, grabbing Rouge's arm and speeding up, with Omega being just behind them as he used his twin jets to go faster. They managed to reach the entrance just in time, getting outside the warehouse, with the steel door closing behind them.

''I really hope that Shadow made it out,'' Touka said, worried for her brother.

However, before either of them could even say or do anything, they heard an explosion from the side of the building and ran over to it, noting how part of the wall was broken. Suddenly, they heard a mechanical noise of a growling engine, with a Shadow on a black and red motorcycle leaping out of the smoke and rubble, performing a sliding bike stop as he landed on the ground, sparks flying as the metal came in contact with the asphalt.

Touka and Rouge dropped their jaws, completely baffled by this entrance, while Omega was rather impressed. Shadow, on the other hand, had a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, looking incredibly proud of himself.

''You really couldn't help yourself…'' Touka snarked after snapping out of her stunned state. Shadow revved up the bike.

''If we're done here, we should leave now,'' Shadow said, still smirking. The rest of his team could only agree, following Shadow's lead.

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#Sonic Cyber Revolution (Masterlist)

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

The ban on TikTok and what it means

Hi, hello. Idk who this will reach or if anyone will care at all, but after spending the last four or five years on TikTok, the last year being spent getting educated on politics, governments and the world, I have things to say.

The banning of TikTok is far more than losing a social media app. Frankly, I think people wouldn't be this upset if it was merely an app shutting down like Vine did. No, this is about the U.S. government banning a form of communication, free speech one might say. This ban was a rare instance where both Democrats and Republicans agreed... with no evidence that the app was a national security threat as they claimed. They banned the app on hypotheticals. Maybe our data could be taken. Maybe it could become a threat. But there was no physical evidence that TikTok was actually a threat to national security (while Meta apps are consistently hacked and we know they sell our information to the highest bidder). This should concern you because now that they've gotten away with this, what other things will they ban simply because they could be a threat? Remember this.

We also need to look at the issue of free speech. The government is very clearly trying to take that away. When Israel began its attack on Hamas, on Gaza, the news spread like wildfire... on TikTok. Watermelons began popping up on accounts and people began protesting in public spaces where free speech was claimed to be allowed. If anyone followed that, we watched those who were protesting Israel were being silenced. They were being arrested or sent away for sharing anti-Israel speech. People were exercising their right to free speech and were being forced to be silent. It wasn't the only time the voices of the people were silenced of course. But it's the biggest outrage I think the U.S. saw because news and real videos were being shared en masse on TikTok. It spread all over and it scared the oligarchs and leaders seeing how many people were banding together. But the push to ban started long before this actually.

In 2020, Donald Trump pushed for a bill to ban TikTok. You have to remember this since it appears this ban is performative and a way to make it appear as if he is "saving TikTok." He started this whole thing. He is trying to win over a demographic of young people because he knows if he keeps gaining the trust of the younger generations, when he tries to turn our government into a dictatorship, he can be re-elected. Or at the very least, he is setting the stage for future nationalist and fascists. You need to remember this. We do not praise that man for anything. He has done nothing good and has exacerbated the hate in this country. Please don't forget that he's allowed Nazis to feel safe here, which is a big no go (make Nazis afraid again).

So, what do we do then? Well, biggest thing is to limit use of Meta apps or completly get rid of them if you can. Log out and delete all Meta apps (Facebook, Instagram, What's App, Messenger, Threads) from your devices. Seek out new places like Tumblr, Bluesky (who is also working on a photo sharing app called Flash), Pixelfed, Mastodon, Substack, etc. Change is scary, I get it (neurospicy brain makes change hard), but we can't ignore that change must happen.

Start volunteering in your community. Find groups that might feel some uncertainty right now. They will need support. Let's bring love to people who are experiencing a lot of hate.

Go vote in local elections. I'm serious. At this rate, I can't guarantee women will hold their right to vote if our government keeps bending over backwards to appease the fascist getting sworn in on Monday. Minorities also. I just don't know what to expect. So for as long as we are able, vote in local elections. That's where real change can start. If you can, get involved in your local politics. We need driven and progressive thinkers to better this country.

Seek out outside news sources. I'm talking BBC or other neutral sources. We cannot trust our own media as they are falling prey to nationalism. They will only share news they are allowed to share and that is dangerous. We will soon see more and more American, government approved content across everything. That is why they found TikTok a threat. They didn't have control of it. If my hunch is right, they soon will come Monday or Tuesday.

And most importantly... we must keep fighting. We can't fall prey to forced obedience. Become ungovernable. We are entering into a time of uncertainty and harsh authority. Pattern recognizers are seeing similarities to a certain era of the 30s and 40s happening right now.

Times are scary. I feel like I've been in a constant panic attack since November. I have a lot of feelings I don't understand, but I don't like what they seem to be implying as we begin life with this new administration. I think we are going to truly see who we can and cannot trust, so we are going to have to be cautious, but we will not be controlled. We cannot let ourselves be controlled.

This ban sets a precedent for the future. We will watch many more things slip from our grasp. We will watch our places of free speech become less free (worse than we've seen over the last year or so). We are entering an extremely serious time and despite the memes we need to cope, we must be vigilant. Let's fight for each other. We can't give up. They have taken from us for so long and they will continue until we stand up. Look to the revolutions of the past. Educate yourself with books. Do not fall back into the arms of TikTok if Trump or Meta or Musk have their grubby hands on it.

We the people of the United States have a constitutional right to rid ourselves of a government that is not in the best interest of the people (not the oligarchs and CEOs) and form a new one. Our founding fathers, in their experience with tyrannical governments, thought of the future. They knew what might happen and gave us a right to change that. And I think it's about time we change it before it really is too late.

I know this is a doozy of a read, but this last year on TikTok has taught me so much and it needs to be said elsewhere. I had to speak about it. I need people to know this ban is performative. It feels icky in a way that should concern anyone in the U.S. with a brain. We are the bad place. We have been for a long time, this ban is only the beginning of potentially dark times. I can only hope things will not be as bad as they feel.

Please know that if you need a safe place, I'm here. My space is open to all people no matter your gender, age, race, ethnicity, religion, etc. But I will not be a safe space for hate, bigotry, racism, phobias of any persons, isms of the hateful kind, etc. I will always strive to be a safe place for you all. I may not have had an open mind in my past when I was under the influence of a mindset harmful to people, but I have worked tirelessly on changing myself and my thoughts over the last decade (especially in the last few years). I hope that effort allows anyone of you to feel safe on my blog. 💜

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading. I'm sorry that the times feel so wrong and gross... to make any of us feel these things need to be said, but here we are. You are loved and I wish you all safety in whatever is ahead of us.

P.S. I highly recommend not watching the inauguration on Monday. No need to give a narcissist any wanted attention. I know you might want to see what nonsense happens, but please, let's not give him the views.

[elacular-kink]

Hicvember 20: Throat

It's funny that the idea for this one came to me almost immediately, because I've never put a whole lot of focus on throat movements, nor have I ever had really big feelings about vampires. Oh, by the way, this one has vampires.

Contents: Hiccups, neck focus, vampires, blood drinking and blood talk generally, enemies with benefits, degrading language (slut) (not affectionate), burping, inducing hiccups.

"Will you hold still, you insufferable bendy straw!?"

"W-well i–*ULP* if you keep ma–*HUK*–king me laugh, *HULK* of course no–*HOK* not, Wall–*AUK*–ace!"

"I will chain you to the fucking wall again! Don't think I won't."

"Oh n–*HOK* nooo, please! *HIUK* Don't throw me in tha–*UCK* that briar patch!"

Wallace snarled, showing off his gleaming white fangs through his unnaturally wide-spread lips. That just made his uncooperative slurpee laugh even harder.

Wallace Chain (AND YES THAT WAS HIS FUCKING NAME!!!) was a dignified vampire! He'd lived centuries longer than any of these walking wine bottles ever could! He was a scion of the proud immortal lines of Great Britain! He was technically still a lord, probably! This ambulatory black pudding was supposed to be his prophesied enemy, the descendant of those who had pointlessly fought his kind for centuries all across the globe! Ishmael Văn-Hall was supposed to be his generational foe to be dramatically warred with, then eventually killed in an orgiastic celebration of vampires' triumph over the pathetic cattle that was mortal man!

SO WHY WAS THIS OBSTINATE FUCKING SMOOTHIE LAUGHING AT HIM?!?

Ishmael, whose name Wallace really shouldn't have bothered remembering, was offensively mediocre and absolutely not stunningly handsome with his dark brown skin and curly hair and sharp eyes and offensively wide grin. He worked as a data entry drone, for fuck's sake! The only method of fighting he knew was taking Taekwondo lessons in a strip mall as a child, a fact which he had proudly informed Wallace of within minutes of meeting him! And here he was, tied to a chair, absolutely refusing to let Wallace get a decent drink from him because his jugular wouldn't hold fucking still because he kept fucking hiccuping and that kept making the insufferable stolen blood that pumped through Wallace's veins go inconvenient fucking places! He could only stare as the man's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat with each hiccup.

"Oh come o–*OCK* on, Vladdy *HNK!*" Ishmael tilted his neck offensively at Wallace, waggling his eyebrows. "B neg–*GUK*–gative. Very rare. *HUK* Your faaaaavori–*ICCUP*–iiiiite." His whole body bounced with every hiccup, but the way the triangle at the bottom of his neck caved in over and over again was particularly obscene. "None of th–*HUP* those gross, che---chewy RhD pr–*HUK* proteins."

"RhD proteins are not fucking 'chewy'!" Wallace jabbed a finger into Ishmael's vulgarly bouncing chest. "And do you have a death wish? With your neck fucking..." his blood inconveniently filled up his stupid fucking face "...spasming in that fashion, I could rip you open and let you bleed out accidentally instead of doing it on purpose!"

"Are you su–*HURK* sure they're not ch---chewy? I feel li–*UCK* like it ha–*HUCK* has to be like an o–*HUP* orange juice pu–*HULP* or no pulp kind o---of thing. *HMNK*"

"DO YOU WANT ME TO MAKE YOU A VAMPIRE SO YOU CAN FIND OUT?!"

"Oh do it! *HMK!* Vampirize m–*HEEK* me, Vladdy!" Ishmael twisted in his chair so he could make aggressive eye contact with Wallace, who felt his dead husk of a heart beating faster than it had any fucking right to. Even as his head jerked back over and over, exposing his delectable fucking neck like a slut, his eyes fell half lidded and his voice dropped low and smoky around his hiccups. "Make me im–*hmp* immortal so you ca–*UCK* can deal with m---me for th---the rest of your fu–*huk*–ucking life."

Wallace forced his body not to tremble.

He turned around and kept his back to the stupid fucking wine bottle. "Fine. I've lived for over two centuries. I can be patient. I can outlast any little mayfly like you."

"Don't lie to me, Wallace. *hmp*. You're not good at it."

A growl escaped Wallace's throat as he glared into the wall. "Your weak attempts to delay the inevitable are fading."

"Hmm. Yeah. Guess my hiccups are going away." Ishmael hummed.

Wallace knew what was coming. Wallace fucking knew what was coming. He knew he could do it, he'd seen Ishmael do it before. What Wallace should have done right now was turn around faster than the human eye could see and bury his fangs in that bendy straw's fucking neck so he could drain him into the husk he was meant to be, finally filling his belly with all of the brilliant red wine that he could drink.

...he kept facing away anyway.

"It'd be a real shame if I were to do something like..." Wallace's face burned as he heard Ishmael start swallowing air, the bobbing of his throat offensively audible as he did before belching shamelessly. And then he did it again. And again.

"I will kill you, you know," Wallace said. "Your artery is going to impale itself on my fangs."

"Yeah yeah," Ishmael's voice strained slightly around an audible gulp before he opened his mouth. "*SuuuuUUUUUUUUuuure* you will. *HRMK-mmmrp* I'm sure you d–*llk* don't have an–*glp*–ny other way *lgk* you rea–*lkt* to drinking from so–urk–gff...from somebody w-with—ulk—" The audible struggle in his throat made it almost unbearable for Wallace to keep facing away. "...with the hi–*IC–GUUUUUUUUUUUUPS!* *HIULK–UUUUUURRRR–CUP!*

"GOD DAMMIT!" Wallace wrenched around and before he could stop himself he had his fangs buried in Ishmael's neck. In his stupid fucking warm, delicious, bubbly, spasming neck, slurping hot blood in big clumsy gulps as it bounced out of him, desperately trying to control his body and avoid what he knew was fucking inevitable as he drank and drank and drank and drank and—"*HMLK!*"

Ishmael's neck shook around his teeth and beneath his lips for a completely different reason and Wallace felt like he was on fire under the fucking sun. "Oops. *uuuuuur–CUP!* Now look wh–*huk* what I've done. *mmmmrrr–GUP*–mmf. 'scuse me."

Wallace's diaphragm spasmed with renewed life and vigor as Ishmael's neck kept moving under his lips.

He hated that bendy straw so fucking much.