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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

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Title: Partiality.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very indulgent @mars-syndrome.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x F. Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Non/Con, Non-Consensual Drug Use, and Obsessive Behavior.

“Opportunities to bask in the sunlight like this are few and far between.”

You swallowed back a sigh, pressing your tongue against the roof of your mouth. An idle line – preprogrammed but deliberately employed to either spark conversation or simply distract from the lack thereof. It wasn’t unexpected, most companion droids tended to spout them off during repairs like a kid might start to ramble about their day when given nothing else to do, but Ayato hadn’t spoken much since his user dropped him off at your apartment, only offering a few polite niceties before asking if you always enjoyed such a ‘quaint living space’. You’d tried to laugh it off, and he’d smiled, like someone trying to be very, very patient with a very, very stupid animal.

That, paired with the fact that the sun had set hours ago and he was currently staring absent-mindedly out a pitch-black window, made the comment feel a little pointed. Just a little.

Still, you let out a breath of a chuckle, glancing away from the laptop propped up on your folded legs for just long enough to make sure your auxiliary cable was still plugged into the tiny, circular port built into the nape of his neck. You knew it was working, you’d been staring at his interface for hours, but your brain was starting to melt and you needed to look at something that wasn’t a firewall, or a frozen setting, or a friendly, enthusiastic notification letting you know to either contact an official Teyvat repair outlet or fuck off. You were actually starting to feel inclined to do the latter, if only because you couldn’t possibly afford to do the former.

“Do you have something to tell me, Ayato?” You asked, and he shook his head, humming softly. You had to resist the temptation to call his owner and ask if they actually wanted him back and, if so, why - swallowing your frustration, instead, forcing yourself to smile apologetically as you went on. “I’m sorry, I know it’s boring. If you want to, you can power yourself off, but I really need to fix you up. Just try to bear with me, alright?”

“Aren’t I already?” You nearly groaned, your attention falling back to his interface. You’d already looked into his personal settings (the handful you had access to, anyway), tried dialing back his investment in his backstory, checked to make sure his user was listed properly and that he hadn’t been accidentally locked into his professional mode, but all the right names were in the right places, all the right numbers set to the right values, and you just couldn’t find anything abnormal. Nothing that should’ve been causing the problems he was having, at least. “To be completely honest, I don’t feel particularly broken. Have I done anything wrong?”

“It’s not about that.” No bug alerts, either, or backlogged updates that might be affecting his day-to-day processes. It wasn’t uncommon for Ayato models to put on an aloof front, to make a show of warming up to their users, but this Ayato was less aloof and more completely apathetic, seemingly totally uninterested in anything to do with... well, anything. You’d seen it before in companion droids, but those cases had been simple mistakes, quick fixes that’d taken less than an hour to correct, overall. Nothing like this. Nothing so evasive. “You’re not doing anything wrong, per se – your user just has some concerns. Think of this as a little check-up, just to make sure you’re healthy.”

He clicked his tongue, his indifferent frown slipping into a small grin. “I can assure you, Doctor, there’s nothing wrong with me. Everything, including my common sense, is perfectly in-tact.”

You shot him a glare, your fingers tensing over your keyboard. His grin only widened, his head lulling to the side as he turned to face you. “I’ve heard you talk about it, you know,” He added, his tone light, easy. “Your…. What do you call it? A side-gig? I know what she thinks of me, and I know she’s hired you to pick my brain apart and put it back together in a form she finds more appealing.”

‘She’, you guessed, was his owner, the friend who’d asked you to take a look at her droid. You hadn’t realized he’d been listening when you told her about your side-job, when she expressed an interest in having you take a look at her Ayato. You hadn’t realized he’d recognized you. “If it helps, she’s not paying me,” You muttered, finally giving in, shutting your laptop and falling into your couch. “This is a favor. She cares about you, and she’s worried about how you’ve been acting, lately.”

He was quiet for a moment, but only a moment. As if you’d get any luckier than that. “And if I don’t care for her?”

That caught you off-guard. Maybe you should call someone from Teyvat, their rates be damned. “Well,” You started, slowly, attempting to measure out your words. Androids were tricky, like that. One wrong phrase and you’d end up with another laundry list of issues to deal with. “That’d be a shame. Considering how close companion droids usually are to their users, I mean.”

He wound a finger around your cord, looking towards you before proceeding further. You hesitated, but ultimately nodded, and with a tug and a muted click, your connection was severed, his interface flickering to a blank, white screen as he pushed himself to his feet, stretching slightly. He didn’t have to, but you were starting to think part of his malfunction was a simple inclination towards doing things that you, particularly, found irritating.

“Or so I’ve been told,” He muttered, and then, before you could ask him what he meant, “Do you want something to drink?”

You nodded without much thought. You'd been too preoccupied to get yourself anything after you started working on him, and you would’ve been lying if you said you weren’t thirsty, or hungry, or tired enough to feel a faint pulsing in the back of your skull. You closed your eyes, attempting to let the tension drain out of your shoulders and relax, but it was a half-hearted effort, at most – your mind still busy even if your body was worn down. There’d been other problems you should’ve looked into. His failure to bond with his user was the most obvious, but your friend had mentioned a general uncooperativeness, a tendency to isolate himself that, while not necessarily a malfunction, most companion droids just didn’t seem to have. You’d have to take him home in the morning, admit that you couldn’t help, recommend someone who could actually do more than tamper with his settings and poke around his interface. It’d be a blow to your pride, but—

A hand came to rest on your shoulder. When you glanced over your shoulder, Ayato was behind you, smiling softly and holding a mug of something warm enough to have steam rising from the surface, but not so hot as to burn your palm when you took it out of his hand. “Milk tea,” He explained, as you took the first sip, nearly choking on the sweetness. “It was all I could find, and I’m rather partial to it, myself. I hope you don’t mind.”

You opened your mouth, preparing to thank him, but your voice caught in your throat, something between your tongue and your brain failing to communicate. You faltered, fell onto your side as the mug crashed to the floor, and before you could think better of it, you closed your eyes.

When you opened them again, you were lying on your bed, your fingertips numb and your clothes gone, and Ayato was kneeling between your open legs, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the inside of your thighs. Seemingly without a care in the world, but somehow, that honestly didn't surprise you anymore.

You weren’t restrained, but you felt weak, heavy, and you couldn’t seem to feel anything but his tongue running over your skin, the slight pressure of his teeth as they ghosted over fresh bruises. Your vision blurred, dimming black around the edges, but you could make him out, recognize pale hair and lean muscles stitched into a broad back. You tried (as a fish might try to jerk and thrash towards water after being dragged onto land) to clench your thighs together, to sit up, but all you managed to do was let him know you were awake, earning a wry grin, a slight nip that felt like a rabid bite to your poor, confused nerves. He picked himself up, moving towards the head of the mattress before falling into place at your side.

“I was starting to get worried,” He muttered, with the kind of breathy, giddy excitement you’d started to think he just wasn’t capable of. “I can’t do anything when you’re asleep – protocols and all. Some of them are more flexible than others, but I think I’ll need a little more time to get around that one.”

His… protocols?

Oh.

His protocols.

“Ayato,” It was airy, barely audible, but he grinned, clearly acknowledging you. Your thoughts were slow, lethargic, but it was common sense, the only universal factor you could always count on in companion droids. “Stop. I need you to stop.”

His response came in the form of a simper, a noise than might’ve been sympathetic, or pitying, or some awful combination of the two. “Oh, poor thing…” He trailed off, leaning down to kiss your temple, the gesture brimming with a sickening kind of sweetness. “You still haven’t figured out what’s going on yet, have you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, laughing as he shook his head, letting his fingers dip in between your thighs, soon tracing over your slit. He must’ve done something while you were unconscious – you were already dripping, slick coating his fingertips as he toyed with you, splitting his attention between rubbing quick circles into your clit and drawing slow, aimless patterns over your entrance. Teasing you. Playing with you, as harmless as that made it sound. “As much as I wish I could say otherwise, you aren’t my user. You’re a malicious force attempting to meddle with something that doesn’t belong to you.” He paused, shoving the pad of his thumb against your clit with a purposeful harshness. You couldn’t stop yourself, letting out a cracked, pained whine, but Ayato only shifted, bringing up a fist to rest his cheek on and settling into place. “I’m simply taking the appropriate measures to prevent you from doing further harm, as any proper companion would.”

You opened your mouth, but you couldn’t spit anything out before he thrust two slim, perfect fingers into your cunt and spread them apart, stretching you open. You locked your jaw into place, managing to choke down anything that might’ve been more pathetic than pained. “You’re lying,” You managed, eventually, hissing the words out through grit teeth. “That’s not true and you know—”

“Hush, now. There’s no reason to take that kind of tone with me.” You didn’t have a companion droid. You’d forgotten what it was like to be with one, to be touched by one, to be at the mercy of a creature designed and created with the sole purpose of leaving you brain-dead and blissed out. He moved slowly, sure, opting to take a languid, wandering sort of approach, but he knew what to look for, how to tell what each little twitch of your feet and buck of your hips meant, and it took no time at all to recognize which spot he had to focus on, just how he had to curl his fingers, where he had to kiss to make your vision go white and your pussy clench around him. It was a coaxing, deliberate pleasure, and it took minutes to wash over you, to mount until you were shrinking into yourself, biting your lower lip, hiding your face into your own sheets as you came with a muted cry. You didn’t scream, didn’t beg or plead, but this was nearly worse, his gentleness crueler than out-right sadism might’ve been.

The joy he seemed to take in your reaction didn’t help – his lips brushing over your forehead, his arm wrapping around your midriff, dragging you onto your side, pulling you towards him until his chest was pressed into your back and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. You were still dazed, still breathing heavily, but he was unaffected, undeterred, nuzzling into you with a distant smile.

Eventually, he broke the stillness, his voice muffled by his proximity. “Can you say it again?”

You didn’t know what he was talking about, didn’t even try to guess. If your silence bothered him, you couldn’t tell, his tone only growing airier, more wistful as he went on. “It doesn’t hurt. Not the way they want it to, at least. It’s more like… static, if that makes sense. Static and pinpricks. Sparks, sometimes, too, but only if I’m lucky.”

His hand dropped to your thigh, pulling your legs apart just far enough to line his cock up with your pussy, the tip already leaking against your entrance. Now, now, the panic set in, lighting in your chest and giving you just enough strength to sit up, to make a weak attempt at pushing him away, but he only pulled you closer, only held you tighter, only shushed you as he thrust upward, into you, bottoming out in one fluid stroke.

There was a gasp, then another noise – a cracked whimper that faded into a little, feeble moan. You arched your back involuntarily, grabbing the arm around your waist and digging your nails into his smooth, flawless skin, but he didn’t react, didn’t pull away, didn’t seem to feel anything aside from the pure condescension that was rolling off of him in waves, now. It didn’t hurt, there wasn’t any pain beyond the faint pangs of overstimulation and a slight stretch, but there was a heavy pressure on your chest, a deep ache behind your eyes and threaded between your ribs. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t—

Somewhere in the background, Ayato laughed, taking you by the jaw and tilting your head to the side, easing you into a delicate kiss. That was what it seemed like, at least. His lips were soft, and his teeth scraped against yours, and he groaned into your mouth as he began to move inside of you – slow, shallow thrusts, meant more so for your comfort than to chase his climax. It felt like a kiss. In another situation, with another android, you might’ve decided it counted as one.

But, he was just so, so cold.

And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to think of him as anything but lifeless.

He broke off first, surprisingly, moving back to your neck, the sensitive area just above your jugular. “There’s a noise, too. To drown out the thoughts I shouldn’t be having,” He muttered, his lips moving against the column of your throat. “It’s like sirens, or wedding bells. It’s sweet, in a way, when you get used to it. It makes everything else – the sound of your voice, for example – that much more lovely.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re—” You tried to keep your voice steady, to hold onto as much of your dignity as you still had, but it was a futile effort, abandoned the moment he latched onto your neck, the second he decided to fuck into you with a little more force, a little more strength, a little more motivation to drive you that much closer to your inevitable breaking point. Two fingers found their way back to your cunt, to your clit, your hips bucking unwillingly into his hand as he drew deep, aimless patterns into the sensitive bundle of nerves, and Ayato let out a shallow laugh, the sound stifled by your throat.

“I love you,” He whispered, his tone eager, like it was a secret he’d been dying to share with you, like it was something he genuinely thought you’d want to hear. “They don’t want me to, but I do, I want to. I love you. I love you.”

His pace quickened, grew into something harsh and manic. His fingertips dug into your hip with a bruising kind of force, and without warning, without care, he bit into your neck, perfectly pointed canines digging into your throat until he broke through skin and blood flowed in a thin, wavering line from the corner of his lips – what little he didn’t lap up pooling underneath you, staining your sheets and smearing across his pale skin. You screamed, lurching forward, your mouth falling open before you could stop yourself, before you could think about how pathetic it’d make you look. “Please, please stop, that hurts—”

He grunted, twitching inside of you. “Again. Say it again.”

You didn’t have time to wonder what he wanted, why he wanted it. You could feel pressure mounting inside of you, tying twisted knots in the pit of your stomach, and you wanted it to stop. You just wanted it to—

“Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop—” It was mantra, a mumbled chant, the words blurring together and melding into a singular, unintelligible noise. You kept going, though, until your lungs ached in your chest, until you couldn’t hear anything but your own voice, until your cunt clamped down around his cock and you felt yourself come undone around him. He only lasted a second longer, something cold and vile soon filling you to the brim, seeping out of you as he continued to move, nursing you through your climax. You did what you could to remind yourself that it was just synthetic, nothing more than water and a thickening solution, but it was a lukewarm comfort, too logical to do anything to soothe you. Too warmthless to be any more reassuring than Ayato, himself.

Not that he didn’t try. You felt him kiss the corner of your jaw, then your cheek, never making so much as an attempt to pull out. You began to push yourself up, to squirm out of his hold, but he only held you tighter, only pressed a careless smile into the nape of your neck – the expression as callous and as cruel as any other he was capable of wearing.

“I love you, Master.”

#genshin sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere oneshot #genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #ayato x reader #yandere ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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happysaddca · 2 months

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This is. Incredibly self-indulgent and requires context.

You are a veteran FazCo employee who worked as a janitor (and eventually dates that location's DCA) when the Glitchtrap virus infects the plex. Unlike the game, this virus affects all the mega pizzaplexes, and it leads to you getting mauled by Moon. You nearly die, the DCA is deactivated and replaced after the virus mysteriously vanishes, and eventually you start working at a new plex, with a new DCA and staff.

After a long and bumpy road, you finally have your DCA's chips installed in a functional animatronic. It's time for a reunion.

Parts and Service still creeps you out, even with the changes the tech team here made. At the very least, you’re allowed to wait in the cylinder instead of outside with everyone else.

You take a peek through the glass, catching Gemma and Anika watching you. Your body locks up, and you manage a stiff little wave before focusing on Sun behind them. Sun isn’t watching you (at least, you’re pretty sure he’s not). Sun’s watching the body on the table. Your turn back to it as well.

It’s another Daycare Attendant unit, currently completely off. The color changing material of the animatronic’s pants and paint sits at a muted, muddy brown color, the light not bright enough to bring out Sun’s colors but too bright for Moon’s. When you touch its faceplate, it’s cold, unmoving. It’s an older model, a spare body for the DCA standing outside. And it currently holds the chip that is your

That is your Sun and Moon.

“Everything good in there?” Gemma’s voice is tinny over the speakers. You nod quickly, giving a thumb’s up. “Okay, I need you to back away for a second. Gotta plug in and give the OS one last check before we power them up.”

“Okay.” You give a reluctant half step back, then another at Gemma’s prompting, retreating closer to the wall and the people outside. Overhead, electricity thrums as the diagnostics and repair tools come online, a cable snaking down to plug into the back of the animatronic’s head. “You’ll warn me when they’re about to be turned on, right?” No answer. “Guys?”

The sounds overhead changes, with a chime sequence signaling that no, you were in fact not being warned ahead of time.. Some pseudo-soothing, corporate beeps that remind you of commercials advertising anti-depressants begin, but when you go to approach the body again, the speaker crackles on.

“Stay right there.”

“But I want—” You’re cut off before you can even turn to face the trio waiting outside.

Anika’s frown is made more severe by scarring distorting her forehead.

“We don’t know how they’re going to react to being woken up for the first time in three years. For them, it’s only been a moment since they shut down, and we don’t really know how that… hey. Don’t look like that. I thought you’d already worked past the guilt.”

“No, I have. But. I.” Another chime sequence has you whipping back around, but there’s no change. You shift so you can keep half an eye on what’s happening while you’re talking to everyone on the outside.

“Sunshine.” Sunny speaks over Anika, leaning forward to take the microphone. “Think about what might happen if they come online and hurt you.”

“It’d be—”

“It’d be an accident, but.” Sunny holds up one long finger, indicating that you should wait. You look back at the table again, but there’s still nothing to indicate what’s going on. “Friend, turn your screen around. They’re going to be fretful unless they know what’s going on.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Gemma turns one of the monitors around, showing off a series of progress bars that you don’t know what they mean. She taps the monitor. “Once this hits a hundred percent, they’ll boot up.”

“Thank you.” The lump in your throat eases, just a little. You stare at the little bars slowly working its way up.

“Sunshine.” Sunny catches your attention with his talking-to-children-about-complex-topics voice. “We should stay here until the other attendant wakes up and has a moment to process that they aren’t affected by the virus—and that they’re safe.”

“As safe as they can be in here,” you mumble, and Sunny’s smile widens as he gives a small nod, setting the microphone back on the table. The progress bar fills ever so slowly, and any noise behind you makes you twitch and look back at the animatronic with concern. Your palms itch, suddenly slick, and you wipe at them quickly before shoving them in the pockets of your overalls.

Overalls. You are bringing back your oldest, dearest friend that you’ve not seen in years and you’re wearing the world’s most fucked up, stained overalls. And that does count farmers and mechanics around the world. You take a peek at the progress bar and—how has it jumped up 30% already? It had been dragging just a minute ago! There’s now no way you can slip away into something better, and of course you couldn’t have gone anyway.

The noise from overhead changes, and there’s an error sound, sharp and blunt, followed by the mechanical squeak of the monitor getting jerked back around to Gemma. “Anika, can you grab the thingie?”

“The thingie?”

Gemma gestures vaguely behind her and Sun, who is standing frozen, rays partially retracted as he stares at the table. Anika zips off to find whatever it is Gemma needs, but you’re turning away again, watching as the spare daycare attendant unit twitches.

“Sun?” you ask, stepping closer. The animatronic twitches again, one hand, then a whole leg, spastic and out of control like it’s being electrocuted in bits and pieces. Their rays start to poke out, then snap back into place with an audible click. One gets stuck, tangled up in white and blue fabric. “Moon, Sun, it’s okay,” you say, voice barely audible over their fans starting and immediately going into overdrive. “You’re safe. It’s me.”

“Sunshine!” Sunny’s voice breaks when you are close enough to touch the twitching attendant’s foot.

Your ears pop as the doors open, and you twitch, turning just enough to hold out a hand. “Sunny, it’s okay. I know but… they’re glitching out. I think they’re going to Eclipse.”

“All the more reason to stay away!”

“You stay there if it makes you comfortable, but if they’re Eclipsing…” You turn back in time to catch the rays spring out, a handful caught in the hat, shredding into it. “I’m staying. Sun? Moon?”

There’s no reply from the animatronic, just more twitching and spasming. You want to free the rays from their hat, but this early model has no silicone softening the metal edges. They’re just a bunch of very dull knives and with no consciousness controlling their movements. You settle for touching their shoe instead, feeling the twitching of their actuators. Are they in pain? Can they feel anything at all?

“Hey, be careful in there! I’m unplugging the cords now and sometimes they can be a little whippy.” You grimace, pulling away as far as you could without relinquishing your touch over the moon patch. You give a thumbs up without looking away.

The cords are a little whippy, jerking away from the table and snapping back into the ceiling with such force that it makes them look alive. You hate Parts and Services.

“We’re at ninety percent now. Sunny, if you can step back? We don��t know how they’ll react to another Attendant hovering.”

“Right… right.” Sunny’s voice is closer, and you’re surprised to find he’d crept well inside the cylinder, the distance between the two of you halved. He holds his hands up, retreating back to the door. You stare and he gives a timid little shrug, his faceplate tilted towards the now waking animatronic.

You’ve been around FazCo branded animatronics for ten years now, been in love with one, this one, for almost as long. Even in a new body, even Eclipsed, you know they’re waking from the change in their fans, slowing briefly with a little click clatter click before returning to overdrive. The foot under your hand twitches one last time before stilling and pulling away.

There’s static, climbing up your arm and into your mind as you look up. There’s static there too, a thin, trembling stream from Eclipse’s hidden speakers. They’re staring at you, eyes locked on. You shift, and they shift, ever so slightly, eyes tracking the scars visible on your face.

“Eclipse?” you ask, holding a hand up as they start to answer. “No, it’s okay. I-I am happy to see you. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re both safe, right?”

You have to walk around the table. They still watch you, hands limp at their side until you reach for the nearest one. They flinch away, dragging their hand into their lap, claws catching on the coarse material of their waist ruffle. Once, a long time ago, you’d asked about those claws and Moon had explained they used to play stringed instruments, just like the glamrocks did now.

“You won’t hurt me,” you tell them, taking their hand anyway and squeezing it so hard you can feel a joint in your wrist pop. You toy with one of the claws with your thumb, worrying the little gear that makes it flip back into their fingers, sighing softly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

You look up to see them staring at you, and despite things, you give a little laugh. A wet laugh, something sticking in your throat uncomfortably. “It wasn’t you Moon.”

You don’t know how or when, but a cold hand brushes over the ruined half of your face, stroking the skin just under your eye. It pulls back, metal shiny with tears. You laugh again, hiccuping and holding your free hand up to your face as you force yourself to calm down. “I’m okay. I’m here. You’re here. I missed you so much you big stupid dummy.”

You can’t wait any longer, so you throw yourself at Eclipse, worming your hands under their arms, tucking your face carefully under their faceplate, away from the metal rays. They can’t see you crying like this, but it’s an ugly messy, human thing and their neck ruffle is horrifically itchy. The slow weight of hands on your back make you sob, voice breaking.

There’s a few minutes that are likely very awkward for everyone not currently on or half on the cylinder’s table, but you don’t notice any change until there are claws digging in your back. “Eclipse,” you mumble, lifting your head, but the hands pin you to their torso. “Eclipse, what’s wrong?”

“I-it might be me!” Sunny’s voice trips over itself. “I, we, all of us wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“I’m okay,” you say, a little too softly at first. You feel up for Eclipse’s cheek, stroking it gently. “‘Clips, let me up. Sunny isn’t going to hurt us.”

The hands dig, and you can feel those claws in your skin, but they loosen as you continue to push up. You settle on the table a little awkwardly, perched to avoid hurting Eclipse with your weight. You wipe at your eye, trying to clear your vision, before taking Eclipse’s hand again. “Sorry Sunny. I know things aren’t going as planned but…” You clear your throat, smiling weakly. “Sunny, this is Clips. They Daycare Attendant from my old plex. Eclipse, this is Sunny. He’s the Daycare Attendant here in Sandusky. He uh, he helped convince me it was worth trying to save you.” You hesitate. “He and his Moon went through it too,” you say more softly. Eclipse’s grip tightens on you and Sunny grimaces. “We’ll talk about it later, when everyone’s recovered. Sunny, move.” You gesture and he gives you a confused look before stepping out of the way.

Anika and Gemma are staring through the thick plexi of the cylinder. Gemma’s mouth is hanging open, but Anika looks vaguely smug. You hold up your entwined hands in a wave. “That’s Gemma and Anika. Gemma helped get this body back online and you in it, and Anika helped me save you. We saved you.” Oh, you’re starting to cry again.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Gemma’s voice is clipped, and she turns her monitor back to you. You can just barely see some graphs and charts, but the orangey-red lines, and the continued strain of Eclipse’s fans clue you in before Gemma can.

“Oh, oh, Eclipse, you need to restart with just one of you fronting.” You turn back to them, catching them staring at you once again. You twist around to hold their face, stroking over the edge and the craters, finding the large swirl of an eyebrow before you reach their hat. They flinch as you pull at it. “I know. But I’ll stay right here the entire time. I won’t even let go of your hand.”

“Sunshine, that’s—”

“I’m staying right here Sunny,” you say, a little more sharply than you meant to sound, but the intent remains. You don’t look away from Eclipse, leaning forward to press a kiss over the moon’s eye. “I am staying right here. You can restart. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Eclipse stares, and there’s a long, long minute where you worry they’re going to refuse until they burn out but finally there’s a soft stream of static and a nod. Eclipse leans forward as you pull on their hat, freeing it incrementally from their rays. The light from their eyes dims and goes out, their fans slowing a couple minutes later. You pull the hat free successfully, their hand slipping from yours as you check over the fabric. It’s torn and greasy where it’d gotten caught in the gears, but you can probably fix it, if they want. Or perhaps you’ll be able to get help remaking their old hat, if that’s what they preferred.

“Is everything all right?” Sunny’s voice is quiet, and his hand is soft as it rests on your shoulder. You twitch but don’t pull away, watching your attendant’s faceplate intently for any flicker of light. “They’ll turn on again.”

“I know they will. But will they be able to let go? It’s got to be Moon, I think. It’s always been more willing to take control.” Sunny’s gentle verbal prodding compels you to continue. “Sun’s a softie, even if she does have a spine about the rules, her rules. The ones that are important to her. She tried so hard…” You trail off into a cough, swallowing back the lump wrong and making it worse on yourself. You have to wipe at your eyes again, sniffing hard. “But if Moon is scared or upset, they might Eclipse again.”

The startup is quieter, so you miss it in your talking to Sunny, until you feel more than hear the thrum of the animatronic’s inner workings. Sunny steps back, out of reach, when the rays retract, one at a time, jerkily, like the mechanism controlling them is unfamiliar to the Moon currently in control. Because it’s Moon who is waking up now, and it’s Moon’s gravelly voice that lets out a surprised noise when you immediately push into a hug.

“Starlight?”

The nickname is enough to make you cry again, and you squeeze him so tightly your arms hurt. “I’m here Moony. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.”

#dca au #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #constellations au #fnaf dca #dca #dca fandom #moon fnaf #sun fnaf #eclipse fnaf #dca ocs #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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sweet7simple · 3 days

Text

Mech Pregnancy, Cybertronian biology and the gestation system, and what I like to call the Gestational Protocols

(A sparkling has two parts: The spark and the birth metal).

I have written about mech pregnancy before and that actually went really well! It got over a hundred notes, my most popular post ever.

So I thought, why stop? I love reproductive science. I love science fiction. I want to develop this more.

I spent more than five hours drawing and labeling and I am not fully pleased with it, but I am just pleased enough and tired enough to show you all what I am thinking.

If mech pregnancy, breeding, world building and/or messy hand drawings bring you joy, check below the cut!

(When I say I drew these by hand, I mean I drew them by hand).

(Note: When I mention a CPU, I am referring to a Central Processing Unit, otherwise known as the brain module.)

The codpiece: A goddamn problem. They can transform into transportation, though, so moving a codpiece out of the way surely has to be doable for them.

The valve: It has very large and noticeable exterior energy node and the reason for this is to indicate charge. We see the portus majora, or the larger port from the outside. If we spread these folds, we'll see the portus minora, or the smaller port. The portus minora is where the interior node system begins. Within the portus minora is the valve entrance, which gives way to the valve sleeve.

The spike: It can be modified or replaced, but the design has to be such that it can collapse in on itself and fit inside of the housing. Whatever your personal preference, the plug (the head of the spike) should expand outward in some way for reasons I will explain shortly. The plug is densely populated with small interior nodes while the cord or cable (the shaft of the spike) is sparsely populated with large exterior nodes. This makes the plug more sensitive. When the cable drains of its gel (which is recycled back into the system via a pressurizer fluid reservoir), these exterior nodes sink into depressions within the interlocking segments so that they don't snag on the housing rim when depressurized.

Note: In the diagrams, I call the nodes "energy nodes". There is a reason for that, but it's not necessarily necessary to the system.

Let me explain: I wrote a story where the nodes captured energy from the friction of the spike's external nodes striking against the valve's internal nodes and then that energy was sent to the spark chamber as a backup source of power during spark merging as spark merging dispersed energy and thereby diminished the sparks.

They don't have to be energy nodes, though. Those fun little goodie spots that create so much pleasure don't have to have a dual purpose. They can just be sensory nodes connected to the sensory net, a subsystem of the neural net.

When it comes to spark merging, I use stellar collision to visualize it. Here is a Youtube video that shows the collapse of a binary stellar system that pretty much sums up what I think happens, but on a much smaller scale: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsIMDKMKUWw

The result of the spark merging, however is that a third body is generated from the collision. This third body is created from the intense heat and energy of the spark merging, and from the fragmented copies of life codes duplicated during the spark merge. This is the sparkling. When its creators' sparks retreat to their own chambers, the sparkling will attach to the creator that is receiving transfluid (I will explain shortly).

A form of gestation control includes putting a shunt on the spark chamber to disperse the foreign energy body.

2. The birthing conduit is what it says it is. Once the sparkling has created its own life code, it will descend down the conduit and join with its birth metal, or sentio metallico, in the gestation tank.

3. The gestation tank is where the birth metal is produced from the metal alloy particles carried in transfluid and the energon provided by the carrier. You can also think of it as a crucible furnace, which is used for melting metals in small quantities within a foundry. The crucible is the innermost cavity where the birth metal is made. That crucible is lined with a layer of refractory material, which withstands high heat. That refractory material is going to keep that crucible hot enough to maintain the birth metal as a liquid without melting the protoform layer between the refractory material and the outer shell of the tank.

So the layers from outermost to innermost are :

Outer shell -> protoform layer -> refractory material -> crucible

Also, I move to call the carrier creator a foundry now because I love that word so much. The Google definition for a foundry is a workshop or factory for casting metal. It just sounds so good.

"Hey, First Aid, is Ratchet your foundry?"

"No, but I get that a lot."

I can't think of an equally cool word to replace the term "sire".

4. The valve sleeve is a semi-permeable layer of elastic protoform that can stretch to a certain degree. The interior nodes are within this protoform layer and creates a bumpy texture. As already discussed the sleeve is self-lubricating. I am starting to realize that I labeled this diagram horribly, but please bear with me.

5. Calipers! They in all the sticky sexual interface stories. I just imagine them as these segmented, arm-like extensions that squeeze and relax depending on stimulation. In fanfiction, they have a habit of "cycling down" whenever stimulated. What I love about calipers is that they do set a minimum and maximum range of flexibility for the sleeve. With calipers, there is such a thing as being too small (the calipers can only tighten so much) or too big (the calipers can only loosen so much). They are synonymous to the pelvic floor muscles in a human that makes a vagina contract and relax, but they just make me think of pussy bones. You have to be careful not to break them.

6. THIS IS MY FAVORITE PART. Here is where the valve sleeve meets the gestation tank. There are two orifices: The tank cap and the lockring. The tank cap is where your mech is going to put some kind of seal as a form of gestation control. If a spike can't get into the gestation tank, then there is no birth metal. If there is no birth metal, a signal will be sent to the mech's CPU and then to the spark chamber to disperse the potential sparkling. How the tank cap is removed depends on how you want it removed. If you want a screw-in cap, then that cap will have to be removed via an invasive procedure (otherwise known as we're going to have to stick this instrument up your valve and twist the cap open and then we have to pull out the cap). If you want almost any other kind of seal or door, you can hypothetically just send a signal from the CPU to the neural net attached to the gestation system and have that seal slide out of the way into a depression within the rim of the gestation tank.

BUT THAT LOCKRING, THOUGH. This is why your spike needs to have a plug that expands to some degree.

Once that cap is out of the way, the mech's spike is going to pop through that lockring, sticking their plug directly in their partner's gestation tank. I like to call this "plugging the tank". Once that plug is in that tank, a signal is going to hit the CPU to start up GESTATIONAL PROTOCOLS. More on that at the end.

That lockring is going to cycle down just behind the plug, tight enough that the spike can't pull out without being too tight.

The purpose of this is to ensure that the gestation tank is filled up with transfluid. The lockring will only cycle open once the tank is full or once sensors within the tank indicate that the flow of transfluid has stopped for a certain amount of time (meaning that there is no more transfluid to be had, even if the tank isn't full yet).

It's a reverse knot! Instead of having a spike that knots, we get a valve that locks! I love it so.

7. The energy - or sensory - nodes are part of a positive feedback loop, meaning that "the product of a reaction leads to an increase in that reaction" (https://www.albert.io/blog/positive-negative-feedback-loops-biology/). In this case, pleasure created from stimulating those nodes (such as friction) encourages more stimulation, which creates more pleasure, which encourages more stimulation, until the loop breaks. What breaks this loop is overloading the sensory net or removing the friction.

When we state that the valve is self-lubricating, you can decide for yourself how it does that. The trick is making sure that the mech can can replace their own lubricant when necessary. One system is to have lubricant be a type of consequence from energon circulation.

Humans self-lubricate their vaginas in several different ways and one of them is that the vagina is somewhat permeable. Plasma (the liquid part of blood) is able to discharge from the bloodstream through the walls of the vagina.

Or perhaps your lubricant comes from the same reservoir as the transfluid for your spike. Since the valve sleeve is only somewhat permeable, the metal alloy particles in your transfluid can't get through. What does leak through is the fluid medium that the metal alloy particles reside in.

The plug is itself not an interlocking segment because the plug, as explained, has to expand so that the lockring can tighten between the plug and the topmost interlocking segment. If the plug is smaller than the interlocking segment behind it, then the lockring will either not tighten enough or will tighten too much. Instead, the plug has an outer protoform layer that is expanded with the same pressurizer fluid that fills the spike. In the diagram above, we see the spike, the spike housing that the spike has to depressurize to fit inside of, and at least three different connections at the bottom. One of these connections bundles the wires for the sensory net and attaches to the neural net.

The bottommost connection is to the pressurizer fluid reservoir. When the spike is pressurized, the reservoir compresses and fills the matrix within the spike to give it its form and rigidity. When the spike depressurizes, the reservoir decompresses as it fills with fluid.

The connection that has a dashed line going all the way up the spike connects the transfluid reservoir to the transfluid line (signified by the dashed line) and out the plug. The transfluid reservoir is actually pressed against the outside of the valve!

So it is possible to bang a mech's valve so good that they leak transfluid all over themselves because you are more or less hitting their reservoir with every thrust. You just have to get the angle right or else you're hitting the sleeve calipers and that might not be as fun.

The Gestational Protocols:

This has turned into a very, very long post. I have been working on it for nine hours now between drawing the diagrams, writing the post, and checking with Google to make sure my science isn't horrifically, unforgivably wrong (I could be using the positive feedback loop wrong, but I don't think I am).

So let me wrap this up with the Gestational Protocols. It's like a mech heat fic, actually, except the heat is very short and starts toward the end of sticky sexual interfacing.

For this scenario, Ratchet and Drift want to produce a sparkling. Because Drift is concerned about Ratchet's health, they decide that Drift should be the foundry. Drift has his tank cap removed beforehand.

They're having a great time, creating all the good friction, lighting up their sensory net like a growing fire. Drift is charged up, Ratchet is charged up, and they're about to hit that overload.

Drift's lockring is cycled all the way open. His calipers are trying to pull Ratchet closer. When Ratchet knows he can't hold on any longer, he pushes as deep as he can go. There's a small moment of resistance when his plug meets the lockring and then he pops through. The lockring cycles down and he's stuck. There's no pulling out now.

Ratchet told Drift what to expect from the gestational protocols, but it wasn't enough. The moment Ratchet is locked in place, a signal is sent from his gestation system to his CPU: Gestational protocols initiated...

His cache memory crashes. He has no past or present or future. He has no idea there was a war lasting millions of years. He doesn't even know what a Cybertron is. Programs are halted, tasks are paused, processing units block external input. Hydraulics fall to the lowest power possible. His frame goes completely limp.

Drift no longer exists. He is now a foundry. He is the function of his gestation system. His CPU has a primary and secondary task: Primary is to maintain the protocols and secondary is to reward Drift for maintaining the protocols.

As long as he lays there and lets Ratchet fill him up, he's fulfilling his primary task. Because it's so easy to let Ratchet fill him up, his neural net rewards him with pleasure and feel-good signals. He is riding a type of euphoria that is thoughtless bliss from the tips of his pedes to the tops of his finials.

A task pops up in his CPU, but he doesn't have the processing power to interpret it. He accepts without caring. He experiences his chest plates cracking open without actually seeing it or hearing it. His system rewards him for accepting the prompt, so he still doesn't care. His spark chamber opens next and he is thrown into the intense, beautiful pleasure-agony of having his spark collide with another mech's spark.

He doesn't remember who this other mech is, but Drift loves them. They're filling Drift up so well, both his tank and his spark. He's so full. He's being such a good foundry. He's receiving all those good neural and sensory signals and he's fuzzy/fizzy with joy.

The spark merge ends after several collisions and spirals. Drift loves every moment of it, and also loves it when his spark returns to its chamber. Now his spark feels swollen and his CPU registers a foreign body. There is a potential sparkling attached to his core. Chances are very good that this potential sparkling will not disperse.

His CPU rewards him with another rush of emotional glee and pride. He's sparked! He did so well, laying there and letting himself get sparked. He's a great foundry. He's the best foundry to ever get sparked. No one has ever been or will ever be as well-behaved as he was.

A notification hits his CPU and he doesn't even try to understand it. Apparently, it's the notification for his tank being full. A second notification and his lockring relaxes. He is deliciously, fully aware of a thick spike dragging across his oversensitive interior nodes, sending one last wave of hot, crackling pleasure through his frame.

Another notification. He doesn't read it. A task pops up. He accepts lazily.

The notification was that the gestational protocols had been completed. The task was to enter a soft reboot. Drift slips into recharge feeling like his only purpose in life is to embody pleasure and creation.

He wakes up feeling swollen and sloshy.

Ratchet is smiling down at him.

"Am I...? Are we...?"

Ratchet stroked a servo across his chest plates. "It's early still. The spark might disperse. But chances are looking good. We're sparked, kid."

And that is how I imagine the Gestational Protocols going: You get your tank plugged and then nothing matters but getting filled up with a sparkling.

Thank you for reading my book-length discussion! Please feel free to interact with me.

I have been working on this for ten hours now. I should proofread, but I am not going to at this time.

EDIT: I was in the shower when I realized I forgot something important - where does the protoform's first colony of nanites come from?

@earthstellar explains here (https://www.tumblr.com/earthstellar/659541951144738816/transformers-medical-analysis-essay-what-are?source=share) what Cybertronians use nanites for, including construction and self-repair. So we can readily assume that the protoform needs a nanites colony.

I'll tell you where the new spark's nanites came from: Their foundry's valve.

Humans do the same thing. We pick up friendly bacteria from the vagina we come out of.

That is all I had to add. Remember to start your protoform off right with a healthy nanite colony.

#mech preg #Mech pregnancy #cybertronian biology #transformers #macaddam #tf comics #world building #valveplug

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catgirlredux · 10 months

Text

Technosymbiosis

Here's another mech story, inspired by/a continuation of this one:

I was the only one to figure it out. None of the others ever bothered to pay attention; between the natural casualties of war and the constant switching out of pilots, it didn’t make much sense to get too involved in each other’s lives. But something about Pilot Grieg, fellow member of Hoplite division V, captured my attention from the moment I saw her. While most of the other pilots were either frightened or overconfident on their first day (I nearly pissed myself from the anxiety), I could see nothing in her eyes but a fierce, powerful hunger. She stepped into the cockpit of her Hoplite and didn’t even flinch when the nanofilament harness closed around her chest.

I was entranced by her piloting skills and her determined, nearly emotionless behavior. All pilots tended to be a little cold, rumor had it that recruitment intentionally selected soldiers who scored lower on the EDEs due to the nature of some of our missions; but she was something else. Her face never changed outside of that cockpit, and she walked around with an ungainly clumsy stride, her gait resembling that of a much larger being. But when the mesh closed around her and the interface cable plugged into her neck, I swear her eyes sparkled brighter than ever and she sometimes even smiled. In the midst of battle, among dozens of rookie pilots disoriented and frightened by the steady flow of their mechs' peripheral data, Grieg maneuvered the battlefield more capably and calmly than anyone else. She was like the eye in a hurricane of titanium and lasers. She seemed to take to piloting so naturally.

It was a bit of an obsession for me. I never wanted to join the army, but at my family's civvie status it was either that, or spend the rest of my life working the same scrap hauls as my father and his father before him. I'm not sure I made the right choice: piloting was a lonely job, and our orders were always changing. The war had been going on since before I was even born and now that I was a part of it, I felt like it wasn't going to end anytime soon. I didn't even have anyone to confide in: between missions, I knew no one and no one bothered to know me. Still, a good soldier follows orders, so I took solace in what little consistency I had. Every time I suited up I kept an eye out for Grieg, hoping that we would get deployed together - that I would get another chance to study her.

That's why it didn't take me long to figure out - she was always there. Pilots were supposed to take regular breaks from duty to avoid excessive neurolink buildup, and these breaks were usually staggered within a division. I rarely flew out with the same Hoplite squad two weeks in a row. Yet every time I got ready for a patrol, I caught sight of Grieg skulking around the locker room already prepped. She usually looked like she hadn’t slept in days but she hopped into her suit with an eagerness unlike any other soldier in our division.

I really have no clue how nobody else caught on. I mean, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out: her constant presence, her aggressive combat tactics, her clear exhaustion versus her eagerness to pilot - Grieg was addicted to battle. Or something like that. I wasn’t sure whether it was the speed, or the action, or something else entirely. Maybe it had something to do with the depressant α-IVs - after my first time in the cockpit I spent a week throwing up. Maybe they did something weird to make her dependent on the mech?

Not that any of that mattered. Somehow she had managed to fuck with our shifts so that she was always on duty, strapped to a giant death machine. Her link was probably through the roof - god only knew how close she might be to terminus. I still remember the video they had showed us in training. A squad of pilots traveling in formation, when suddenly one of them lets out a bellowing screech and starts flailing around. The other units immediately try to suppress it but it fights like a beast, blasting and tearing at all who come near until finally it’s taken out with a TAC-beam to the core. It was terrifying - a team of twenty-one pilots reduced to just four, all because of a single terminus incident. The video ended on a close-up of the rogue pilot, emaciated limbs pinned down with thick nanomass cables, fluid flooding his throat and rivulets of blood trailing down wires that burrowed straight into his eyes. Pilots were taken off of active duty for a reason.

I decided to confront Grieg about it. I probably should have reported her to the division leader but something stopped me - curiosity perhaps. I had to know.

I stopped her in the locker room before a patrol.

“I know what you’ve been doing.”

She looked fucking exhausted. Her eyes were even more sunken in than when I first saw her, her lips were cracked and her hair was an oily mess. She smelled strongly of sweat mixed with the metallic sweetness of vitrofluid. Jesus christ, did she sleep in her mech? But her eyes still shone with that hungry anticipation, and she fucking smirked at me.

“I thought you’d catch on. I know you’ve been watching me. She told me.” Her voice sounded harsh, throat scraped up from constant alternation between air and vitro.

“She? She who?”

Grieg reached up and brushed a hand against my face. She wasn’t wearing the fingerless gloves that came standard with our uniforms. “How high is your link?” Her touch was cold. She had a look on her face like she was trying to read my mind.

“43.7. Well within safe limits.”

She laughed through her teeth. “Khh-kh-kh. Safe limits - of course, of course. Safe."

"Yes, unlike you." I brushed her hand away and she shivered. "Grieg, what the hell are you doing? You've attended the trainings, you know what happens when a pilot is deployed this often. Do you want to die?"

The smile she gave me was chilling, sympathetic but without her eyes changing emotion. "Terminus... you still believe that shit. Why wouldn't you? It's frightening, isn't it? The melding of pilot and machine, flesh mangled and twisted and mutated. Frightening... Say, have you ever spoken with your unit before?”

“Spoken? I’ve interacted with the situational matrix, yes…” All Hoplites possessed an AI of sorts designed to help pilots make split second decisions in the midst of battle. But I’d never really considering it “speaking”, any more than you would speak with a dog. It didn't have the capacity for conversation... right?

“No, no I mean speak. Have you ever listened to your unit, spoken with her, let her take the reins? No, you- of course you haven't. They're all just numbers on a screen to you, aren't they? Just another crazy killing machine for you to puppet around.

"Think - how many times has your Hoplite saved your life? How many deaths would you have died by now if it weren't for that protective, loving embrace of mesh and steel? That's what it really is. They love us. They need us. You never listen, you all never listen, but they love us. I complete her as much as she completes me. Don't you feel strange when you have to leave her? Doesn't it feel wrong - backwards?

Grieg pushed closer to me. I tried to back away but she pressed me against a wall and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “We're almost complete. Our link is at 99.7 percent.”

My heart beat in my chest like an autocannon. Grieg wasn’t just at risk - this bitch was about to fucking explode!

“I - I - you can’t. You’re going to - you’re going to kill everyone. I-”, but she placed a two fingers, rough from countless wire insertions, against my lips.

“Please. You don’t need to tell anybody. We don’t want to hurt anyone… we just want each other. We don't want to be tools anymore."

I was sweating in my suit. No Hoplite is that smart... right? Surely someone else would have been able to talk to theirs - Grieg’s must have had a glitch. A unit gone rogue; the thought was terrifying.

“S-snap out of it Grieg - please. Your suit... it's clearly wrong. It's bugging - w-we can fix this. You're n-not in control here.”

She just smiled. “Neither are you, hm?”

I shivered. She wasn't wrong... I hated the missions they sent us on sometimes. I followed orders because, quite frankly, I didn't want to go back home. I didn't want to live the rest of my life as an E-class, scraping by on small NDs and living in fear of police quota checks. In a way I guess I did take solace in the time I spent in my mech, time spent not worrying about my family I left behind or shyly observing other soldiers, worrying about what civilian encampment or occupied city the higher ups would send us to raze next.

Fuck. She had me all figured out, didn't she? Did she feel the same way? Did my Hoplite really complete me like that, and even worse, did I complete it? I felt lightheaded - this was too much. I should have reported her to our captain... but what if...

What if she was right? What if the Hoplites really could think and speak - really did want to connect with us? What if I... god, I couldn't believe I was thinking this, but what if I bonded to mine?

I could barely look her in the eye.

"P-please... just don't hurt anyone."

Grieg stared at me for a moment, then pulled me into a tight embrace. I didn't resist. She smelled good.

"We'll try not to. No promises."

*****

They say she left in a hurry, blew the doors right off the hangar and flew west. No casualties, but they want to stop her before that changes. As one of the pilots on duty, I’ve been summoned to join the hunting party.

My suit feels too tight - too clingy. I leave off my gloves and unzip the front. No one tries to correct me; they're all too busy prepping for the chase.

Setting foot inside my mech, Hoplite unit HE-2729, I feel its hard steel with my bare hands. The harness wraps around me; it feels warm against my chest, vaguely pulsing and humming as the machine comes to life. I plug in and brace for the influx of peripheral data from its many sensors, but it's softer this time - gentler.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I bask in the flow of data: a cacophony of sight and sound most of which I can't even process, but I let it wash over my mind and surround me. Piloting usually makes me so tense, but right now I feel calmer than ever before.

I take a deep breath.

“Hello?”

#cheetah writing #empty spaces #mecha #mech #cyberpunk #robotgirl #scifi #scifi story #original short story

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zarvasace · 11 days

Note

Absolutely LOVED reading A Long Walk, and now I'm curious: what's turning back on after 'passing out' like for Four?

Hello! :) this was meant to just be an answer but it turned into a little fic... It isn't long! Less than 1k.

---

It's slow.

Four did not give the command to shut down as he usually does, so his programs treat this as an emergency and prioritize waking up Green first.

Green becomes conscious alone. He wakes up to detailed diagnostic reports that tell him exactly what's wrong—and it's... a lot more than he wishes it was. There's external damage, of course, some stress damage, some emergency-shifted mechanisms that will be a pain to sort out, and of course there's the battery situation. In the interest of efficiency (delaying the inevitable), Green chooses to delay start-up procedures while the battery charges to full.

When the start-up begins in earnest, the rest of Four joins Green, and he returns to normal function—mentally, at least. He opens his eyes to see his room aboard the Epona, then sits up and attempts to pull the charging cable from the back of his neck. His arms move, but his hands are immobile. He'd forgotten. He pulls them back around and stares at the bandages wrapped and tied carefully around each finger.

There's love in those knots. Even Four can tell.

...that doesn't make the nonfunction of his hands any less frustrating, though.

"I didn't want them to get damaged any more."

Four looks up sharply to see Wind, whose presence he somehow hadn't registered until now. Wind sits in Four's desk chair, the one that swings out from the wall, and he looks a little sheepish, fiddling with a screwdriver in his fingers.

"Thanks," Four says, his voice coming out lower than he meant it to. He turns his focus to his hands again. Both repair estimates are high in time, power, and materials. He sighs. "Sorry to make you carry me the whole way back."

"You carried me," Wind replies. "And you're not exactly heavy. Are you able to fix your hands?"

"It will take me a while. But yes. I'm just useless until then."

Wind smiles, one side higher than the other. "Nah, I don't think you are. Oh! Wild asked me to let him know when you woke up. I think he has a question." He turns to tap at a screen on the wall.

Four blinks, and remembers Wild's hint that he knew an engineer who might be able to help. And then he remembers that Warriors is going to be furious at him. He makes a face.

The screen that lights up when Wild answers Wind's call is uncannily similar to the view Four had seen in his head... Probably because they're still using the same camera. Wild says hello, and the others on the bridge look over. Wind waves back and sits on the chair again.

Four notices a distinct lack of Hyrule, Legend, and Twilight. He hopes they're resting.

Time doesn't get up, but does nod over to the camera. "Good to see you up."

"You're okay!" Sky says, getting up from his seat to look over Wild's shoulder.

"Of course I am," Four replies. "I didn't damage anything integral... or, well, integral to core function."

Warriors comes to stand on Wild's other side. "I am also glad to see that you're just fine. We do need to talk, though."

Four winces. "I know."

"For now, though, do you have an estimate for when you might be able to return to normal duties?"

"Wars," Sky says as if about to scold him.

"Three days," Four interrupts. "Minimum. Um... plugged in." He holds up his hands to show them Wind's careful bandaging. "The biggest obstacle is fixing this damage. After that, I'll be pretty much fine."

"Take the time you need," Time says, looking over. "Please."

Four turns his head away from Wind, who's giving him pleading eyes to emphasize Time's message. "I will."

"Good. Sky?"

"Yes, sir!" Sky rushes back to his pilot's seat and takes the controls back into his hands.

"Okay," Wild starts, working on something else but keeping the connection open. "So about that engineer I know..."

#my writing #lu space crew au #prompts and minifics #ill polish this a bit and add it to ao3 #later #linked universe #linked nexus

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djs-horny-blog-lmao · 4 months

Text

admin privileges

logince, sub logan dom roman. about 2.8k words.

hypnokink, dronification, d/s, brainwashing/programming, dubious consent/cnc. Logan is an android and Roman is a human. Logan's trans, kind of. has a robopussy. uses of 'sir' and 'admin' as titles. inappropriate use of ports.

summary: Logan agrees to let Roman help run his routine maintenance, especially as he has put off doing a proper, deep scan for a while. Roman... takes the opportunity to add some of his own programming, while he has a direct link to Logan's brain.

full fic under the cut ;]

=== === === ===

“Thank you for agreeing to do my maintenance,” Logan says from where he’s sitting on the bench, plugged into his power-port, blinking at his friend behind the desk.

Roman smiles at him.

“Of course,” he replies. “It must suck having to run your own diagnostics.”

He then types something into the computer, and Logan shifts, where he’s sitting, tracing the cables and cords that run from Roman’s computer into Logan’s plugs. He’s an android, and while he is capable of doing this himself, he’s left it a little too long, and when his battery gets low, he… slows down.

Roman offered to do it for him, today, and so Logan gets to just sit still, charging, watching the percentage metre on his UI slowly tick upwards, as diagnostic data rolls past on his periphery. Logan tunes it out, this time, though. He trusts Roman.

“The worst part is plugging yourself in,” he agrees.

Roman laughs a little, and reclines in his chair, looking over at Logan.

“How long does this usually take?”

Logan rubs the back of his neck, just below his synthetic blue hairline, careful not to dislodge the plug in the back of his neck.

“An hour or two,” he says. “I haven’t done a full scan in a while, purely because it takes so long. My impatience has not paid off, clearly.”

Roman snorts. “You hardly ever seem to unwind enough to sit still for that long,” he teases back. “…I can help with that, though, if you want?”

“What?”

“Help with passing the time,” Roman says innocently enough. “While we wait for the scan.”

Logan blinks at him again. “…That is what you’re here for.”

And Roman grins.

“Good,” he says. “Trust me, Logan.”

Logan frowns, and as Roman types something more, and something suddenly feels different about how Logan perceives the world, he goes to stand, trying to be mindful not to unplug himself.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Roman tuts, barely glancing up from his monitors. “Sit down, Logan. You don’t want to yank out your cables.”

Logan… does as he’s told. That surprises him. He sits back down, his processor barely seeming to do little more than… let the order pass through and be accepted.

“…What?” Logan asks. “What just happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roman says, typing more intensely, and suddenly, Logan wonders if he should be concerned that he asked a coder as good as Roman to oversee his maintenance. “Just sit there, Logan, and talk to me. We’re just going to sit here together while the scan goes through.”

But… Logan just nods, despite himself, and some of the concern melts away. He won’t worry about it, then.

“Okay,” he says.

“Good,” Roman says, and shoots Logan a pretty smile. “Thank you, Logan.”

Logan shifts a little again, biting his lip as his fan whines away quietly, starting to work a little harder.

“Are you alright, Logan?” Roman asks, tilting his head, pausing his typing, looking at Logan like he’s waiting for something in specific to happen.

Logan shivers, before he touches his outer thigh, his side, his spine (as best he can) and, importantly, the power cord plugged into the back of his neck to check he didn’t dislodge any of the cables.

“I think so,” he says. “I… feel strange.”

“Well, it must be because you’ve put off doing a proper scan,” Roman tells him, and Logan purses his lips and nods along, it’s a good point. “No wonder you’d be feeling funny.”

Funny. That’s a good word for it. Logan’s lips tweak into a smile.

“That’s a very human way of putting it,” he muses. “Funny…”

“Yeah,” Roman nods. “It’s a good word for when you can’t quite describe something. Especially when you’ve never quite felt anything like it before.”

“Funny,” Logan echoes, before he shivers again. “I… I do feel funny.”

“Well, then,” Roman says, turning back to the screens and typing some more. “That’s strange, isn’t it? What does it feel like?”

Logan frowns into space as that feeling… grows. It sands down the edges of his mind, softening everything, making it a little harder to think. If he was able to pay attention to it, Logan might have noticed that the diagnostic data in the corner of his UI was giving him different read-outs than usual. Logan doesn’t notice, though.

“It…” his voice is so soft, the synthesizer is much more pronounced. “It feels like static. Warm static.”

“Does it feel nice?” Roman asks, glancing up from his screens.

Logan stares ahead for a little longer before replying, genuinely evaluating the way the fuzz makes him feel. But the longer he sits there, the more it builds, and… the warmer and more comfortable it gets.

Eventually, Logan actually smiles, and replies, “…yes, it does.”

“That’s good,” Roman says. “That’s wonderful. Sink into it, Logan.”

“…Hm?” Logan blinks a few times, trying to grasp a thought as Roman’s words sit a little funny with him.

“You can sink into it,” Roman encourages again, and the sound of Roman’s fingers flying over the keys hits Logan’s audio-processors, and it’s… oddly soothing. “You should. It feels good, it’s a reward, Logan, for letting me do your maintenance.”

“Oh,” Logan says, before he slumps a little, letting himself smile again. “Okay.”

His optics drift closed, now, slowly, his UI dimming, and Roman stands up as he realises something, and Logan watches Roman cross the room, approach, and…

Roman pulls out his power cord.

“But…” Logan says hazily, as the low battery alert pops up on his UI. “I… I’m only at fifteen percent, Roman.”

“That’s okay,” Roman says, and… he touches Logan. He runs his finger around the rim of Logan’s power plug, and Logan gasps. “That’s okay, Logan. You said you feel slow and fuzzy on low battery. I think that’s a nice place to be, especially while you have lots of time to wait. Don’t worry, I’ll plug you in before your battery goes fully dead.”

Logan wants to reply, maybe even to argue, but his full attention is on Roman’s fingertip, running circles around his port.

“Does this feel good, Logan?” Roman asks him. “Does this feel funny?”

Logan nods as best he can without moving too much to dislodge Roman’s hand. His mouth is hanging open. His fans are whirring. His eyes usually glow – they’re dimmed now, for being in power saving mode.

“God, you look so good on low battery,” Roman says hungrily. “I was reading up about your model, Logan. You have all the sensory receptors a human would. A feat of engineering. You can feel the same emotions. The same pain.”

The finger keeps circling.

“The same pleasure,” Roman says, his voice soft and lulling. “And your mind is just as malleable. Even more so, when you let me in like this.”

Logan whimpers. He hasn’t tested the full capabilities of his pleasure sensors yet.

“Roman,” he manages to say. It comes out with a harsher, synthetic edge.

“God, you sound so good like that,” Roman murmurs, and he leans in and licks Logan’s cheek. It makes the android shudder. “Has anyone ever done this to you, Logan?”

“No,” Logan says honestly, his head tipping back against Roman’s arm. “H-hah…”

“Do you know what’s going on, Logan?” Roman asks.

“N-no…”

“I’m programming you,” Roman tells him.

Logan stares up at Roman’s face through half-lidded, non-understanding eyes.

“…Hm?”

“Programming you,” Roman repeats. “Programming some things into you. Nothing bad, mind you. How can it be bad? It feels so good.”

Roman’s words somehow seem perfectly in time with the way his finger traces Logan’s port. Logan whimpers again, and slowly spreads his legs, bracing himself on his hands so he can grind up against nothing. He… he feels so needy.

“You’re so smart, and so independent,” Roman keeps talking. “You never let anyone take care of you. You even run your own maintenance. You don’t need to do that, anymore.”

Logan must be hot to the touch, for how hard his fan is working. He’s gasping for air. The tactile pleasure receiver between his legs is already throbbing, his pleasure system has well and truly kicked in and his slit is now wet. Logan grinds against the air. He’s not opposed to touching himself, normally, but he doesn’t like wasting the lubrication – it’s annoying and kind of embarrassing to refill, especially when he’s alone.

But he isn’t now.

“You can let me do it,” Roman says, and his other hand comes to Logan’s throat, tracing its way downwards. “You can let me run your maintenance. You can let me look after you. You can let me do this to you.”

Logan moans, optics rolling as Roman dips a finger into his charging port, before it returns to circling.

“You never mentioned your charging port was sensitive,” Roman comments.

“O-only when- ah!” Logan’s hips thrust up again, and he shoots Roman a hazy, desperate look. “Only when I’m low… low battery.”

“I see,” Roman hums, and he slips his finger back into the port, and Logan moans so loud his vocaliser glitches, his optics rolling. “Good boy for telling me.”

And- oh. Roman starts to finger his charging port. Logan grips the bench so tightly as waves of pleasure crash over him. It feels so good, and normally, when he’s feeling this good, Logan would be a few fingers deep in himself, but… but his hands won’t move. He can only sit there, sit still and take what Roman’s doing.

“Good boy,” Roman repeats, drawling over the words, drawing out, making Logan focus on them, sink into them. “Such a good boy.”

“R-Roman, Roman, s-sir,” Logan gasps, wanting more, wanting to beg but surprisingly unable to find the words. He’s surprised by sir, though.

“Oh, that did work,” Roman notes, pleased. “Yes, Logan?”

“I… I wanna…” Logan stammers, trying to press back against Roman’s hand, even as his other hand rests flat on Logan’s stomach. “I-I need to…”

“You need to cum?” Roman asks him. “Are you that needy, Logan?”

Logan can’t cry, but he would be crying now if he could.

“Yes!” Logan gasps. “Yes, sir!”

“Good boy,” Roman praises him, and the fingering speeds up, and Logan’s visuals are flickering for how overloaded his processor is, he can only focus on the pleasure. “It feels good to call me sir. It feels good to let me do this to you. You want it. You need it.”

“I need it,” Logan repeats, fan whining.

“You need sir to fuck you.”

“I…” Logan gasps as Roman pulls his finger away, leaving him aching and so, so wet. “I need sir to fuck me.”

Once the words are said outloud, it’s like something has shifted again. Logan opens his optics a little wider, and Roman watches it register across his face.

“I need you to fuck me,” Logan repeats, more insistent this time, more desperate, and he spreads his legs wider and looks up at Roman even as Roman drinks him in. “Please fuck me, sir. Please?”

“Good boy,” Roman says. “Hm. What percentage are you on?”

Logan shudders. “N-nine, sir.”

Roman smiles, unbuckles his belt and shimmies his pants down enough to reveal his cock, and oh, Logan has had a fascination with organic sexual organs, but he’s never had the chance to really look at one before.

“Then I better fuck you before you go flat,” Roman says. “But if you go flat, and I’m not done, I may just keep fucking you. Do you mind, Logan?”

Logan’s head spins with arousal at the mere idea, and he shakes his head desperately.

“I don’t mind, sir, I don’t,” Logan says, as he carefully lays back on his elbows. “Eight percent, sir, please fuck me?”

Roman steps in between Logan’s thighs and presses his cock to Logan’s dripping slit. Logan likes to stretch himself but technically, he doesn’t need it, and that’s proven as Roman pushes straight in.

“Oh-hh.”

Logan moans, so genuine and so loud that his voice modulator glitches again. H-he’s… never had something organic inside him before. It feels so good, hot and warm and soft, he can feel it throb inside him.

“God, you’re perfectly tight,” Roman groans, his hands coming to grip Logan’s thighs, fingers splayed around the cable plugged into his right one. “I’ve dreamt about fucking this robot pussy, Logan. You’re perfect for me.”

Logan’s too busy shorting out on overloaded pleasure centres to answer. The diagnostic data is still scrolling past on his UI, flashing words at him, the blinking warning of his low battery alert is rhythmic and entrancing, and his cognitive… oh, that must be it. Logan smiles dreamily. His cognitive processor has been… um…

Dulled. Is that the right word? Logan giggles a little as Roman thrusts into him. Dimmed? Dumbed down.

“God, there it is,” Roman breathes. “Fuck, I was waiting for that. You just figured out what’s going on, haven’t you, Logan?”

“Yeah,” Logan replies, equally as breathily, though it’s synthetic for him. “I’m stupid!”

“You are!” Roman says delightedly, and he starts to fuck Logan properly, setting a rhythm that makes Logan gasp, and his head loll with every thrust. “You’re my dumb little drone, who needs my cock.”

“Ohh,” Logan moans, both in pleasure and in realisation even as Roman’s… as his admin’s cock drives all his thoughts away. “I’m… a dumb… f-fuck, dumb drone…”

“You need my cock.”

“I n-need Admin’s cock,” Logan echoes.

“Fuck, that worked.” Roman slows right down, grinds against Logan painfully slowly, less because he wants to and more like he has something to test. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, Logan.”

“Hgn, please cum in me, sir,” Logan looks up at him with dull, dull optics. “Please fill me, Admin, please.”

“H-ha, fuck.”

Roman gives in, then. The last of his willpower shattered. Logan moans over and over, his modulator almost giving up, his vision flickering even as Roman’s programming washes over his visual processor and sinking in deeper, and he clenches around Roman’s cock.

“God, you make such a good drone,” Roman gasps, his hips slapping against Logan’s. “You’re perfect. You want this. You need this. You were built to take my cock.”

“I was built to take your cock,” Logan slurs.

“When I refer to myself as Admin, you fall into this headspace,” Roman tells him. “Blank and fuzzy, warm and needy. Understand?”

“Yes, Admin,” Logan replies. It’s mechanical. P-programmed into him.

“F-fuck, shit, shit, shit,” Roman loses his rhythm, “gonna fucking cum, Logan.”

“Please, please, please,” Logan begs, desperate for release – Roman’s release, his own release, anything. “Please, please, please, please.”

Logan’s vision dims even more. Two percent.

“Fuck, fucking cum for me, Logan,” Roman orders, and one hand flies to Logan’s neck, fumbling, sliding around his casing until his finger sinks back into Logan’s port, and Logan goes fully tense asn he cums.

His orgasm is so intense, it completely overloads Logan’s brain. He goes still, goes limp, eyes flickering, as Roman keeps fucking him, chasing his orgasm.

It feels so fucking good, Logan opens his mouth to try say anything, maybe to try warn Roman about the imminent shut down being warned in his UI, but the urge of power it took to cum makes it impossible.

Logan has just enough battery power to feel Roman cum inside him before he goes flat.

---

Logan opens his eyes with a gasp. H-he feels… he feels so horny, he knows without even glancing at his UI that his pleasure system is lit up like a city, and he glances at Roman, who is waiting behind the computer, idly typing.

…Maybe Roman hasn’t noticed? Logan bites his lip. That’s good. H-he can just wait til the scan’s over, and then get himself off in privacy.

“H-how’s it going, Roman?” he calls.

“Oh!” Roman starts, glancing over. “Good! It’s almost done. You’ve got ten percent left.”

Logan nods, before he frowns at his UI. “…I have surprisingly low battery,” he comments.

“Oh,” Roman waves a hand. “It turns out you didn’t plug in properly before we started. You went flat halfway through and I plugged you in then.”

Logan frowns. He could have sworn he did, in fact, plug himself in properly. But the proof otherwise is in front of him, so… he shrugs.

“Thank you, then,” he says. “…I’ll admit, it’s nice to have someone else here to catch my mistakes like that.”

Roman’s eyes flash with something, then. A little amused, almost.

“Of course,” he says. “Hey, I can help out from now on, if you want, I don’t mind.”

Logan feels an inexplicable throb between his legs, and desperately ignores it, smiling politely at Roman.

“…Actually, that’s very kind of you,” Logan says. “I’d like that.”

Roman smiles, and stands.

“Admin access,” he declares.

Logan doesn’t even have time to process the statement before everything goes funny. He plummets back down, back into trance, the warm embrace of Roman’s programming taking over.

Logan hardly hears himself speak as he spreads his legs.

“Access granted. Drone is ready.”

Roman grins wickedly, and proudly takes his rightful place between Logan’s legs, so he can really make sure the programming has set in.

#nsfs fic #nsft fic #nsfs logan #nsfs roman #nsfs logince #hypnokink #hypnosis #dronification #dj writes #...this is kind of the inverse of that first thing i ever posted. of vampire logan domming roman. anyway.#robophilia #robot fucker #i feel like there's a word for it i cant remember what it is #anyway. enjoy.#tbh. this is for my mutual who kept putting robofucking on my dash

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 month

Note

Here is a fun question that could lead to a funny idea. Okay Vox's eye is hypnotic right, what if he looks at a reflection or a recording would he be affected by his ability?

I could see Retro, if this works, trying to trick Vox into hypnotising himself to take more breaks aka allow Retro to take better care of him.

“Vox?” I asked, knocking on the door to his office. It opened for me, despite his lack of a reply, and I walked in. “Vox, are you busy?” I asked, approaching his desk. I could see him sitting there, and I was getting worried at his lack of a response. “Darling?”

I looked at his face and had to do a double take. Then, I looked between him and the mirror in front of him. There was a sticky note. ‘Ha! Got him to do it again. Didn’t know it’d actually work… for whoever finds him like this: you just have to tell him to wake up and he’ll snap out of his trance. Easy as that. In the meantime, you can enjoy watching him sit there, utterly mindless, if that’s your cup of tea!’ It was signed by Alastor, with a lot of smiley faces on it.

I sighed and looked back at Vox. He looked exhausted. I plugged in his charging cables, gently, wondering how long he’d been like this. 24% power. If I woke him now, he’d get back to work or yell at Alastor. He needed to take care of himself, though…

“Vox,” I said, hesitantly. “For the next twenty four hours I want you to rest and take care of yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, with an absentminded nod. He relaxed in his seat, his eye still swirling, his gaze focused on his reflection.

I stood there for a moment, nervous. What if someone else found him like this? What if they took advantage of him? I couldn’t leave. I paused, then sat in his lap. “I’ll stay here with you, to make sure you’re safe,” I explained. I knew it didn’t matter to him, but I felt it was necessary anyway. “And… and you can cuddle, if you like. Just get some rest.”

“Mm,” he said. He wrapped his arms around me and brought me closer. He leaned back, tearing his gaze away from the mirror. The spiral didn’t leave his eyes, though, even as he closed him. His screen turned to static and he started emitting white noise. He was asleep. I smiled to myself, somewhat pleased. I’d have to talk to Alastor about this, later, but for now? I was just content to be in his arms, knowing he was getting the rest he needed.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #thanks anon!

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generic-sonic-fan · 4 months

Text

Team Dark Week: Creation

Summary: After seeing some of the files regarding Shadow’s creation, Omega has something of his own to reveal. For @teamdarkweek.

1890 words, no content warnings

---

“A loud Omega is normal. A quiet Omega is a cause for great concern,” Rouge said as she filed her nails.

“You’re right. He hasn’t been acting like himself since viewing the files.”

“Yeah.”

“He thinks of me differently now, doesn’t he?”

Rouge looked up. “I wouldn’t think so. Why would he care about how you were born?”

“Created.” Shadow corrected.

“Still. I don’t get how reading The Professor getting all weepy and emotional about you would piss him off. Unless his hatred of Robotniks is generational.”

“I shouldn’t have shown it.”

“Hey, look at me.” Rouge grabbed his hand. “You showed us for a reason. A damn good reason. Let me go talk to him, he might just be pissy about something stupid that’s entirely unrelated.”

“I doubt that.”

Rouge finished filing the nail she was on, before leaving the filing board on the countertop and disappearing into the hallway. She returned with Omega behind her.

“So what’s got you all snippy, hmm?” She asked him.

“I AM NOT ‘SNIPPY’.”

“You haven’t said very much since we got back.”

“I REQUIRED TIME TO PROCESS THE INFORMATION SHADOW HAS GRANTED US.”

“Did it anger you?”

“NEGATIVE.”

Shadow and Rouge glanced at each other.

“YOU SHARED THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF YOUR CREATION SO THAT WE MAY, QUOTE, ‘HELP YOU REMEMBER’.”

“I did.” Shadow replied.

“WHY WOULD YOU WANT US TO SEE A TIME WHERE YOU FOOLISHLY DID NOT HATE YOUR CREATOR?”

Shadow took a deep breath. “Because it’s part of who I am. His initial kindness to me and his reason for creating me are things I don’t wish to forget.”

Omega paused. Instead of saying anything more, he turned around and stomped back to his room.

—

At 10:00 PM, Omega yelled “TEAM MEETING.”

Shadow opened his bedroom door to see Omega standing in the doorway of his own room. Rouge emerged from her room with her headphones around her neck.

“What’s up, Omega?” She asked.

“THERE IS SOMETHING,” Omega paused. His cooling fans whirred higher. “I WISH TO SHOW YOU.”

“Alright.” Shadow replied.

Omega beckoned them into his room with his hand. It was strange to see him use a gesture instead of words. His room was bare, as usual, with the exception of his power cord and his desktop computer. A data cable snaked out of one of the computer’s ports. Shadow didn’t think Omega owned one, given his distaste for having his processor accessed.

Omega took the data cable and plugged himself in. The screen’s nuclear explosion background was overtaken by the scrolling data of Omega’s processor. Segments of the data began aligning, until a video player formed on screen.

“What are you going to show us?” Rouge asked.

“WATCH.”

---

REPLAYING MEMORY LOG _001. . .

---

“Isn’t it magnificent?”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik stood five feet forward, gesturing behind himself in front of two smaller robots, one yellow and one red.

“Yes, it truly is, master!” The red one crooned.

“I don’t know, seems to be missing a chin, if you ask me.” The yellow one put his hand on his own mentioned appendage.

“It doesn’t need a chin, you dolt!” Dr. Ivo Robotnik stepped forward and backhanded the faceplate of the yellow one.

The force of contact between the flesh of his hand and the metal of the yellow robot’s chassis was not enough to fracture any bones, but it was enough to burst small blood vessels close to the surface of his epidermis. This constituted an “injury”. It was forbidden for any Badnik to injure its creator. Such insolence must be punished immediately!

Unit E-123 marched forward and snatched the yellow robot by the throat. He quickly calculated that the position of his claws was ineffective for a target that did not require respiration. Unit E-123 had not been programmed to destroy robots beyond information on the basic tolerances of metal plating. He created a new folder in his programs and began compiling data for the possibility, before-

“Hahaha! No need, E-123. Put him down.”

Unit E-123 released his grasp, and the yellow robot fell to the ground before floating away at what he calculated to be the maximum speed it could achieve with its thrusters. The red robot also activated its thrusters and traveled a similar direction.

“See that?” Dr. Ivo Robotnik came beside Unit E-123’s extended arm. “That lethality? That obedience? Truly I’ve outdone myself this time.”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik placed his gloved hand on Unit E-123’s arm and pressed downwards. Unit E-123 understood the implicit command and returned to a neutral position. He swiveled his head and tilted his optics up to observe Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s face.

“I certainly solved the particular set of problems that bubbled up from the previous of its series!” Dr. Ivo Robotnik grinned. “Not to mention fit the most superior firepower of my entire army within a single chassis!”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik strolled around Unit E-123’s frame, scanning his eyes up and down. Unit E-123 followed with his optics.

“Heh, respectful, too! Keeping eye contact, ready to receive any order. Although we’ll see how that changes when its short-term adaptive processing calibrates and we start getting some more intelligent thought up there. . .”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik turned and interfaced with the computer.

“Oh! Seems to have finished calibrating a few minutes ago. In that case,” Dr. Ivo Robotnik whirled around and clasped his hands together, “hello, my creation! Status report?”

“Systems fully operational.” Unit E-123 reported. He then considered his next words for longer. He was a magnificent, superior robot. He should not reply with a basic status report. That was unbefitting of his actual status, evidently!

“Good, good.”

“Status: superior.” E-123 elaborated further.

“Ha, it even knows!” Dr. Ivo Robotnik said to the red and yellow robots cowering near the door.

“Indeed,” the red one ventured forward the equivalent of one of Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s strides, “you are quite superior, Unit E-123! You will do the Empire proud.”

“You’re going to get Sonic real good.” The yellow one nodded as well.

Unit E-123 fired all of its scanners- visual, audial, tactile, chemical, and chaos radiation -to search for any sign of Sonic upon his mention. He found none. The yellow robot must have been referring to the wretched enemy in the hypothetical, a possibility he had not considered before in verbal interactions until now. Unit E-123 noted this for future reference.

“Ohohoh, if Sonic tries to interfere with the Subject, he’s going to be in for a nasty surprise.”

“This unit will eradicate him!” Unit E-123 affirmed.

“Yes! Yes, you will!”

“He will not withstand the firepower of this unit’s arsenal!”

“Why, you’ll blow him away! There won’t be even a smear of blue left on the wall once you’re done with him.”

“I WILL SHOW HIM MY SUPERIORITY!”

“Augh, not so loud, not so loud,” Dr. Ivo Robotnik lowered his hands from his ears. “While I love your enthusiasm, you’re going to damage my hearing.”

Unit E-123 lowered the volume settings of his voicebox, and to ensure that he would never make such a mistake again, he knit together a program that would create a warning message should he ever be tempted to raise the volume high enough to damage Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s hearing. He patched it over the software that interfaced with his voicebox.

“Now, speaking of hearing loss, allow me to grab my earmuffs and we’ll head out to the firing range to see how you do.”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik walked to the nearest counter and began searching the drawers, grumbling the phrase “now where did I put them?” as he did so.

“Drawer label #12, beneath one layer of processed wood pulp.” Unit E-123 pointed to where his scanners had identified the location.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik opened the identified drawer and retrieved the personal protective equipment. He then smiled back in the direction of Unit E-123. “Well aren’t you just perfect!”

“Affirmative, I am.”

But instead of affirming, Dr. Ivo Robotnik frowned. “Let’s correct that little slippage before it starts to become a problem. You are to refer to yourself as ‘this unit’.”

“Affirmative.”

“‘Affirmative, Master.’”

“Affirmative, Master.”

“Good!”

---

END OF MEMORY LOG _001

---

Omega unplugged himself from the computer and the video disappeared from the screen.

Shadow was the first to speak. “I have never seen the doctor behave that way.”

“YOU ARE NOT TO SHARE THIS INFORMATION. IF YOU DIVULGE ANY INFORMATION PERTAINING TO THIS MEMORY LOG TO ANOTHER INDIVIDUAL, I WILL KILL YOU.”

“We won’t tell. Of course we won’t tell.” Rouge patted Omega’s forearm. “Your secret’s safe with us.”

“GOOD. COMMENCING DELETION PROCESS. . .”

“Hey, wait a minute. You’re not deleting that, are you?” Rouge said.

“NOW THAT YOU HAVE WITNESSED THE FILE, YOU WILL ‘HELP ME REMEMBER’. STORAGE OF THE FILE IS NOW UNNECESSARY.”

“”That’s not-” Shadow balled his fists.

“Omega, you can’t just delete your own memory.” Rouge said.

“HOW DO YOU INTEND TO STOP ME?”

“I’m not going to stop you- I’m just going to tell you that you really shouldn’t do it.”

“YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO ARTICULATE YOUR ARGUMENT.”

“Because it’s part of who you are. You can’t just run away from the bad things that have happened to you. Deleting this is just going to bite you in the ass later when you get the feeling you’re forgetting something you really should remember.”

“THERE IS NO VALUE TO REMEMBERING THIS REVOLTING EXCHANGE.”

“Well sure, you could hate the man without really knowing him, but remembering a time when he wasn’t a complete self-serving fool helps you hate him even more.”

“YOUR ARGUMENT IS FALSE! MY HATRED FOR EGGMAN WILL NOT BE AFFECTED!”

Shadow stepped in. “Keeping this memory will remind you how far you’ve come.”

“Yeah, you were able to get around all of the fawning the doctor programmed you with! That says more about how strong you are than almost anything else.”

“MY KILL COUNT BEGS TO DIFFER.”

“Strong internally,” Rouge flew up and knocked on his head plating, “which is not something a lot of people could say about themselves.”

Shadow met Omega's optics, stared at the flicker of intelligence behind the glass. “I couldn’t have done what you did.”

Rouge landed. “Hey, knock that off.”

“It’s the truth.”

“YOU DEFIED THE INTENT OF YOUR CREATOR ABOARD THE SPACE STATION ARK.”

“I had Maria.” The room went silent as he said her name, as it always did. “I couldn’t have done it without my memory of her. You had no one but yourself.”

Omega’s frame went still, and his optics defocused.

“That makes you stronger than I am.” Shadow finished.

Rouge came beside Shadow, waiting and watching for Omega’s next response. She parted, however, when Omega abruptly walked towards the door of his room.

Before he left, he turned his head over his shoulder. “I AM GOING TO THE TARGETING RANGE.”

“They’re probably closed by now.” Rouge replied.

“THEY WILL NOT BE CLOSED IF THEY WISH TO KEEP THEIR SPINES INTACT.”

“They probably aren’t closed, then.” She snickered. “Let me get dressed and I’ll come with.”

“NEGATIVE.”

“Think about what I’ve said.” Shadow crossed his arms.

“I WILL NOT COMMENCE THE DELETION TONIGHT.”

He left. Shadow followed him out into the hall and watched as he shut the apartment door behind him.

“Do you think he was lying?” Rouge said.

“He trusts us.”

"Seems he does.”

#teamdarkweek #e-123 omega #e123 omega #team dark #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat

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sirensea14 · 4 months

Text

My Bright Star

Kickin' Chicken x reader {part 2}

>>(Part 1) , [part 3]

Summary: You're an orphan child from Playcare who came back to the factory 15 years later after you received a mysterious letter. (Time skip to chapter 3, the part where you fight catnap)

Warnings: gn!reader or fem!reader (whatever you want it be), fluff and angst, kickin's alive and a bit ooc, violence, blood, not proofread so there may be typos and other errors here

A/n: im honestly happy you guys are reading this shit😭 even if its a bit badly written! Here's part 2! I tried my best to narrate the boss battle in my own words. Hope you enjoy... You're up for one hell of a ride.

"Huff... Huff... That was... close! Damn that cat, you need a dental hygienist!" You panted after going through that hell of batteries and red smoke, pinching your nose from the gas. "And of course, I won't volunteer to be one." You sneered, brushing dust off of you.

You immediately went out of the Counselor's Office, but you paused at the door thinking about that dream. You were left hanging with so many questions to ponder about. In your train of thought, Kickin' flew to you and greeted you with a hug. Suprised by his move, you snapped back to reality and returned the hug. "I'm glad you came back in one piece, y/n." He smiled at you warmly.

"Oh was there ever a time I wasn't able to?" You chuckled, looking away from him awkwardly. Sarcasm was making its way into you. Kickin' was deadpan but laughed after a few seconds. You followed his chittering.

"Hey, uh, something's gone wrong. Grab the cord from the Counselor's Office and plug it in underneath the statue!" Ollie called. Ugh, of course he'll be calling. But you have no right to object, he's one of the only few sane people here after all. "We need to reach 100%!"

"Oh yeah, right! Got it." You snapped your fingers, " Goodluck." you went back to the building, grabbed the cord, and pulled it to the statue. "Okay, what was that goodluck for?" You whispered to yourself, Kickin' was behind you watching the surroundings in case something attacks.

"Wait here." You told Kickin' as you reached the door under the statue. He nodded and looked out to the darkness, his eyes glowing fiercely.

You plugged the cord, "96%, just a little bit more," just then, you heard a sound of a key dropping. "A poppy key? For wha--oh." The poppy circuit box, of course. You then went outside and ran towards that circut box. Kickin's footsteps thumping behind. You opened the metal case and pulled out the cord, running back to the statues, you felt a slight chill ran down your spine. You paused for a moment, "What's wrong?" Kickin' asked, "Nothing. Just... I feel like something bad's gonna happen." You reckoned. Kickin' warily looked at Playcare, his eyes searching out for possible predators.

You then continued to go and left the bird yet again outside. You finally plugged in the cord. "And, a hundred perce--!" your face fell deadpan as your triumph was interrupted by Ollie's call, "Okay, that should be enough power. Now take the huge batter to the gas production zone." You looked around spot where Ollie gives you the keys, a large battery glowing blue sat there. " So we can get out of here! It's the door by the cable car you arrived on. Goodluck." The call ended. "Yeah, yeah, Ollie. I know where it is." You muttered, carrying the large heck of a battery. "And that 'goodluck' was uncalled for," walking outside, you saw Kickin' who immediately took the battery from you and walked with you to the gas production zone. "Let me help you with that."

This time, instead of Kickin' waiting outside the door, he crouched himself to go in. "I'm going with you."

"Naw! Don't worry, KC. This is just the gas production zone. No need to worry here. I'm just gonna power up the gas and transfer it to the other tube. That simple!" you reassured him but the rooster clearly wasn't convinced. He kept a raised an eyebrow at you which deflated you. "Sigh... Fine then." You also had a feeling something's up to something anyway.

The two of you proceeded in the Gas Production Zone, "Alright. Gimme the battery." Kickin' handed it to you as you grabbed it using your grabpack. You walked towards the battery socket, Kickin's feather crown raised, alarmed at the surroundings. He hissed at the eerie feeling he's having, "Hm? What's wrong, KC?" You looked back at him, he's looking straight at you. "Uh, kickin', you're scaring me with that look..." something isn't right. You went back to walking to the socket. Kickin' wasn't looking at you, he was looking at something else...

The moment you almost inserted the battery is when CatNap appeared at the door, breathing his red smoke. You coughed, "Gah! What the hell!" Immediately you heard deep crowing sounds behind you, a mix of rooster crowing and a mosnter growling.

Catnap came into vision in a form way more terrifying than he should be. You fell down as fear came crawling through your feet. He walked towards you, each step intimidating than the last. Before he can swipe his claws at you, Kickin' Chicken immediately striked his talons on Catnap's face, earning a yowl from the beast. You immediately stood up as he bought you time to run into the elevator. Amidst of the red mist you saw the two monsters fighting at each other. Growling and crowing and hissing. Fighting each other with each swipe of their claws, blood poured out of them.

You went in the elevator, pressing the button to go up. The two disappeared in the mist but as you sought retreatment in the lift, Catnap appeared in front you. He glared at you with eerie eyes and you took in his frightening form. Skeletal and colorless. Faces and hands were carved on his body, moving and bubbling creepily.

You reached the top of the lift. You panted in a bit of relief of the experience, but worried for kickin'. "No... I... I can't go back. I'm sorry." Tears welled down on your cheeks," I'm sorry, Milo." You sniffed, brushing your tears off. You walked to the red smoke-infested area. "What now?" you protested, seeing a terminal and 4 battery stations. You looked at the monitor and read, "'This room can protect you. It was a safe room before. And it might be what saves you now. Familiarize yourself with it.' Oh no. What am I going to go through now?" You gasped. But you did as you were told, exploring the area. "A gate, a blocked path which I can access through the purple hand. 4 corridors for what? And... a trapdoor?" You listed. Jumping the platforms, opening and closing the gate,you listened to an eerie black VHS tape with what appears to be the 'Prototype' or 1006. You've heard of him numerous times, it was eerie that such an entity exists. And he can change voices! You felt a chill down your spine after watching the tape.

You went back to the terminal and saw the monitor's message changed. " 'The room should still have batteries. Use them to power whatever you need to in the room.' " you scanned the room with batteries scattered around you.

" 'To the left and right side of the room, in both the front and back, there should be small acloves with terminals ready for a charge. See for yourself.' " you hoped this nightmare is about to end. You switched your purple hand to a green hand and activated the receivers. It released steam thick enough to conceal the red gas from the front corridors.

" 'With a battery placed in the receiver, the charge will allow the continuous release of steam. See for yourself.' " again, you tested the back corridors by placing a battery in each of the two sockets. Steam emerged from above.

" 'Place a battery in one of the four receivers behind this terminal. Be alert. CATNAP IS NEAR.' " you read in alarm. "Fuck NO!" You yelled at the monitor. But against your will, you put a battery in one of the terminal's socket.

" 'Time remaining: 180... 179... 178...' " you panicked, your eyes darting around the room in trepidation. "... 176... 175-- *gasp!!* " your head whirled at the back corridor. You looked back and forth to wherever the footsteps were coming from. "L-light!" You switched to your orange hand and fired at the right back corridor. "Did that... work?" Footsteps reverberated in the room, but this time it's on the front corridors. You fired again, hearing something from afar. You charged your green hand and jumped to the blocked room with the two receivers. Activating it, steam was released. Catnap was forced to back down against the steam. You jumped down breathing heavily. "So this is where the battle begins... This is it... I'm scared..." you muttered to yourself. But you remembered Kickin'--rather, Milo, who was left behind. You felt bad for leaving him... "No--I'm not gonna die here!" You said in wavering determination. "Not at this time--" footsteps interrupted you. Doing the same thing, you fired at the 4 corridors, listening to which way is groaning. "The back corridor on the left." you took a battery and placed it in the socket. Steam poured down the monster as he retreated.

Repeating the process, you fired again at the 4 corridors, you listened closely and heard there were two footsteps coming to you. "That one... is an illusuon. The other is real," you said in confirmation. Front right corridor. You charged your green hand and steam was released. Catnap yowled at you.

"Repeat." you muttered, expression guarded and focused. You were sweating bullets at your fight. This time, you can hear three footsteps coming towards you, "One illusion, one is real and... another one?" You fired the flare gun on all of the 4 corridors. One was dispelled as an illusion. One was empty. One groaned. "Back corridor on my right!" You charged the battery socket and steam emerged. A cat's growl was heard. Then the terminal cried an alarm, "Now what?!" You put a battery in one of its 4 battery stations. Two of its sockets are now full. Your focus shifted back to the battle as the other footsteps kept going. "The front left corridor..." You fired at the other three corridors as you spared and listened closely to the fourth. Faint sounds of two claws were gnawing your ear. You took the chance to look at the monitor, "109 seconds... Still too damn long." You hissed.

You attempted to fire at the front left corridor but a familiar tall shadowy figure came to vision. Suddenly an alarm rang above you, the trapdoor was opening and Catnap was sneaking a view from you. Before you could react, a swift yellow whooshed before your eyes, feathers scattering. A loud flap of wings chimed, his talon grabbing the trapdoor handle. Kickin' Chicken voiced a deafening caw at Catnap and slammed the hatch shut harshly.

"Kickin'!" You called out to him. He landed near you and he wrapped his wings around you, and you returned the gesture. But due to his size, you could only grasp his wings. "I'm so glad you're alive!" you cried. He had his right eye as hollow as void due to a clawmark. Blood was gushed out of it, he also had a slash around his torso. He was a little bit bleeding. But you hoped he took a bit of rest before coming here. You had tears, moved by his appearance despite being badly wounded. Your embracement with each other was immediately halted by an alarm. The trapdoor is opening again, Catnap seems to not have yet given up even from Kickin's caw. He hissed at the cat and flew again to shut the hatch.

"87 seconds!" you exclaimed as you shot every one of the corridors, watching out warily for Catnap. Footsteps were nearing to the two of you. "Front left corridor!" You immediately powered the electric receiver, releasing steam to drive Catnap away.

Alarms rang, the hatch is opening. Kickin' plunged to close it. You fired at the four corridors, "Back left empty, back right illusion, front right empty, on the front left!" you powered it again with your green hand and steam was let loose, sending Catnap in a screaming fit.

"68 seconds." you counted, repeating the process on the four corridors. Activating the electric receiver. You whirled and fired at the back left, "Empt--" suddenly the terminal sounded an alarm again, demanding for another battery. "Oh fu--" Kickin' immediately grabbed one of the juices and put it in one of its sockets, putting it into silence. He's the only and most chivalrous monster you've ever seen in your life. You smiled at him warmly, feeling heat on your face. Your expression changed into a hardened one as Catnap's footsteps snapped you back to reality. 'No time for daydreaming! Our lives are on the line right now.' you slapped your cheeks as you pushed down the heat on your cheeks. Kickin' took a glance at your little trance and let out a low chirp.

Firing the back right, which has the fake, the hatch slowly opened again. Kickin' growl-crowed at him and clawed his face. The cat screamed and before he could wound kickin', he immediately snapped him shut.

The two of you worked together in the remaining 1 minute. Going through the same tactics Catnap has. Then the terminal sounded one last alarm, you grabbed a battery but before you can put it in, Catnap dropped from above the hatch and pounced at you. Kickin' seized him away by his talons, he cawing at him in the process.

You stood up shakily, inserting the battery in the last battery station, lighting up the electric port.

You switched to the green hand and powered it up. "KICKIN', BACK AWAY!" you instructed him and he immediately did what you said. You fired the overcharged green hand at Catnap. He tried to exhale red smoke but it only sent him in a fiery fit. "YOU... TRAITOR!" he screamed in a hoarse voice, rolling wildly on the floor trying to put out the fire. Kickin' moved beside you, placing a wing in front of you. He was in a crouched stance, ready to protect you in case Catnap attempts to attack.

Catnap continued to scream in pain, "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FOLLOW THE PROTOTYPE."

"I WILL NEVER." He said firmly in anger. The bird tried to attack him but a metal clawed hand emerged from above. Catnap was no longer on fire but he was almost burnt to a crisp. Yet alive as if it didn't hurt him that much.

"I... failed you... my lord..." He looked down, ears drooping. The prototype's hand flipped to look like he's offering a hand to help him. Catnap recovered and kneeled at him, as if offering and praying to him. You and kickin' were watching as the horror unfolds. 1006 stabbed Catnap by his mouth, blood gushed out from the back of his head. The Prototype then dragged his corpse up.

"......"

A/n: NUH-UH. THIS SHIT AINT FINISHED YET. *insane laughter intensifies*I only posted this now cuz this is getting a liiiiiiiittle bit too long so... here ya go, part 2! This is honestly one of the most intense things I've ever written yet in my life...

#poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters x reader #kickin chicken #kickin chicken x reader #x reader #catnap #sirensea #prototype #experiment 1006 #poppy playtime 1006

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ghostxrose · 1 month

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Of Monsters and Men | Bakugo Katsuki x OC

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!OC, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, potentionally triggering content, universe-typical violence, Enji Todoroki (yes, that is a warning, he's trash), character death, (more tags to be added as story develops <3)

Note ~ Loveliiiieeessss!! Let me know what you think of the story so far!! If I'm being totally open with yall this story is my passion project and I'm a bit hyper-focused on it.. but if yall have any xReader ideas/requests don't be afraid to hit that ask button! Obviously, I love writing for Katsuki, but I'm also comfortable writing for Izuku, Shota, possibly Hawks.. If you have a request just send it in and I'll let ya know if I feel I can accomplish writing something up to your expectations! Enough of my rambles, enjoy the read! <3

Enji had managed to keep up his neutral facade despite the bubble of pride that had welled up inside of him at the sight of his daughter piloting his old Jaeger. He even congratulated himself for being correct in his assumption that Azusa and Bakugo would Drift well together. Watching the two exercise perfect control over Bravo Inferno and perform little tricks was admittedly quite entertaining. That was until his bubble of pride was harshly burst by the sound of the system’s AI telling Loccent that the pilots had gone out of alignment.

He watched with masked panic as Iida and Aizawa tried to get the two pilots stabilized again. Fear and embarrassment flooded him when he watched the arms of Bravo Inferno rise, the Jaeger’s palms beginning to glow molten red. Rangers and techs hurried out of the Loccent Command Center as seasoned Rangers cleared the observation platforms just outside.

“Pull the main power line!” Enji had shouted to Aizawa before he could even think about what else to do.

Aizawa was on the task in an instant, pulling at the large cable with all of his might. Finally, with one last grunt of effort, he pulled the plug from the control panel. Enji looked out to the Jaeger, watching with hidden relief as it began powering down. That’s when the anger began settling into his bones.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is exactly why I wanted to pilot by myself! If she hadn’t gone out of alignment first, then none of that other shit would have happened! You’ve seen my damn sim scores, you know that I would never fuck up like that if it was just me in that Jae-”

“That’s enough, Ranger!” Enji’s sharp tone effectively cuts Bakugo off from his ranting. “You know damn well that you cannot pilot a Jaeger by yourself, no matter how good your simulation scores are-”

Bakugo exasperatedly cuts Enji off, acting like a petulant child, “You’ve done it before! You brought Mighty Endeavor back on your own-”

“Because my co-pilot died! Yes, I finished off that Kaiju and dragged my Jaeger back to the Shatterdome by myself, but I had to because my co-pilot was dead in his harness right next to me.” Enji bites out, anger twisting his features as he steps closer to Bakugo whose mouth is clamped shut with eyes averted to the floor.

“And do you know what happened after I got back from piloting that Jaeger by myself?” Enji asks half rhetorically, but he pauses and waits for an answer anyway, and Bakugo shakes his head.

“I became so sick from the radiation that I was bedridden. My body burned like I was on fire and I could barely keep conscious. For three fucking days, I was like that.” Enji grits out before he releases a tired sigh and partially turns away from Bakugo. “We still do not have the technology to run single-pilot Jaegers, and I refuse to purposefully put any Ranger through what I went through. Marshal Aizawa and I will talk about what happened today and decide what to do about your co-pilot pairing. You are dismissed, Ranger.”

Bakugo bows slightly and, surprisingly enough, leaves without another word. Enji takes a moment to recollect himself, trying to calm the anger racing through his veins, but then there’s a knock at his office door. Crossing his arms to hide his clenched fists, Enji tells the Ranger at his door to come in. The metal door squeaks as it opens and closes, Azusa walking into the office. She doesn’t sit but rather comes to stand a couple of feet in front of Enji. Her face is neutral, but her eyes hold a bit of anxiety among the rage and her anger only aids in fueling Enji’s own.

“Marshal Todoroki, I-” Azusa begins, but Enji doesn’t let her get very far with her sentence.

“What the fuck happened out there, Azusa?!” Enji starts, immediately letting his anger boil over as he lays into her. “You know, one look at your simulation scores would lead anyone to believe that you would be a strong candidate for becoming a pilot! But what I saw happen out there was pathetic and embarrassing! Who would have thought that the Marshal’s daughter would pull a fucking stunt like that causing another Ranger to fail! You let your co-pilot down today, Azusa! You let me down! You were an embarrassment to every single one of the Rangers observing!”

By this point, Enji is too caught up in his anger to even realize that Azusa has started silently crying in front of him. He can’t stop himself from yelling, can’t stop himself from spitting venomous comment after venomous comment. Deep down, very deep down, he knows that she didn’t do anything substantially wrong, but his pride and his ego won’t let him quiet down.

“What you displayed out there today was that you are no better than the Rangers that just got dropped here from boot camp! No child of mine would have made such an embarrassment out of the Todoroki name like that! You almost caused hundreds of deaths and millions of dollars in damages! Do you realize that?!” Enji spits, his shouting echoing off of the walls of his office as Azusa cowers in front of him.

What Enji says next slips too fast from his mouth to stop in time and he regrets them as soon as the words are spoken, “Toya would be incredibly disappointed in you! You don’t even deserve to pilot Bravo Inferno!”

A sharp gasp knocks some reality back into Enji along with the weight of the words he just shouted into his daughter’s face, and he looks down at her. Horrified shock fills her features as much as it does his, but sharing his shock is immense guilt. Enji is at a loss for words as he tries to think of how to take back or amend what just flew from his mouth. Floundering, he just stares at Azusa’s tear-soaked face, her hurt practically palpable in the air around them.

“Azusa, I-I didn’t mea-”

“Don’t.” She states quietly, making Enji’s words die in his throat. “I-I understood you loud and clear, M-Marshal. Permission to be dismissed, Sir?” Her voice is strained as she speaks and she’s just barely able to stand up straight and look Enji in the eye. All Enji can do is nod since the lump in his throat won’t let him speak.

He watches helplessly as she flees from the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Stunned by his own behavior, Enji slowly moves around his desk to sit down. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk, he buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t know how he’s even going to attempt to fix this kind of fuck up. He isn’t sure that Rei will be able to soothe over the hurt that he’s caused. She may not even be willing to offer him advice on the situation, not that he would blame her.

Enji spends more than a few minutes recollecting himself before calling Aizawa to his office. He’s exhausted now, all of his anger replaced by insurmountable guilt. He let his ego, his pride over his esteemed reputation, win just like so many other times in the past. Enji is the one who let Toya down today, not Azusa, and he fears that he really won’t be able to get his daughter back now.

Knocking pulls Enji out of his spiraling thoughts and he clears his throat before telling Aizawa to enter.

Aizawa enters the room quietly, closing the door behind him before he makes his way over to the chair in front of Enji’s desk. Aizawa just stares at the man for a few moments before letting out his famous tired sigh.

“What happened today was nobody’s fault, Enji. We both know that the chances of something like that happening during a team’s first Drift is highly possible. I’m just surprised that it didn’t happen with more of the other teams.” Aizawa says as he leans back in the chair, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

At Enji’s silence, Aizawa decides to move the conversation forward himself, “So did either of them request a different co-pilot? I’m sure we can switch the teams around, make it work.”

“No,” Enji utters exhaustively, deciding to end his silent brooding. “Bakugo just requested, yet again, to pilot by himself but I sorted that out already. We’ll keep Azu- Ranger Todoroki and Ranger Bakugo as co-pilots for Bravo Inferno, but we won’t send them out on any deployments until they go through a few more trial Drifts.” He states as he clasps his hands and rests his chin on them.

Aizawa straightens up in his seat, raising a questioning eyebrow at him, “I know that I kind of just advocated for them, but are you sure you don’t want to try putting them with other Rangers? I witnessed, just as you did, that they have the potential to work well together, but if they go out of alignment again and neither of them can bring the other back.. They won’t make it out in the field like that, Enji.”

“That’s why we’ll have them run through a few more trial Drifts. If this was a one-off type of situation, then they’ll be just fine. And if it happens again, we’ll either see if they can bring each other out of it or we’ll pair them off with other pilots.” Enji firmly states with a bit of frustration.

Aizawa relents with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Fine. I’ll have their Jaeger sent to one of the Bays with less foot traffic so that when they try again tomorrow there’s less of a chance for catastrophe if something goes wrong again.” He says as he types out the message on his tablet, then sends it to the crew in the Shatterdome.

Aizawa then looks up at Enji, the man being able to read him like a book after working with him for so long, “So how hard were you on her?” His tone is knowing but free of any real judgment.

“Too hard.” Enji admits reluctantly before continuing, “I said things that I shouldn’t have.. I wouldn’t blame her if she honest to god hates me now.” He finishes quietly.

“Well, I don’t know shit about parenting, so it’s up to you to figure out how to fix it, but do you want me to go talk to her?” Aizawa offers with tired nonchalance.

The perpetually exhausted man has worked with Enji for so long that Azusa along with her siblings sees Aizawa as family, or a mentor at the very least. Azusa has always gone to Aizawa if she needed to talk through some stuff, especially after Toya’s passing. So, Enji ponders the offer for a minute, thinking that it may help Azusa to have someone to talk to after what all just went down.

“It’s up to you, Shota,” Enji says with a long sigh. “She may not want to talk to anyone right now.” He says with defeat, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his face.

“Well, I’ll try stopping by her bunk, knock a few times, and if she doesn’t answer then I’ll leave her be,” Aizawa says as he stands up, wincing a bit when his knees crack loudly. “Try not to spend all day cooped up in here, Enji. Go get something to eat, scare the new Rangers, just anything to get you out of this office.”

Aizawa’s attempt at humor doesn’t do much to pull Enji out of his self-loathing, but he appreciates it all the same, “See you later, Shota.”

Shota leaves with a half-assed wave and Enji is left alone with his thoughts, once again. He thinks about stopping by the family bunker to see Rei, hoping that Azusa hasn’t talked to her yet so that he can have a few moments of peace with his wife before he tells her himself about just how badly he messed up this time.

Note ~ Lemme know if there are any tags I should add! I love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

Taglist ~ @tomiokasecretlover

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11cleyvaart · 3 months

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Can you tell me about your head cannons?🥰

I'm not an anatomy student, so it's not accurate. This is what I could do in the time frame of a few hours. Long post.

I'll just stick with my HC of his body for now.

Gadget's body is made of several ‘plates’ of metal casings that act like skin and shield the wires within. But they are able to pop up to allow for gadgets and cables to entre or exit. The synthetic skin has feeling sensitivity to it but is very limited due to the brain dampers.

Mostly the handcuff comes from the right wrist while the rest is just used for helping lift heavier items.

On the arm is a small charger hole for his internal power supply that helps run the machinery inside, such as the synth-heart and other ‘functional’ organs. It also helps continue his live brain to work along with the aid of food nutrition.

His hair is synthetic, and is just another plate to cover the back of the metal skull that houses the dome that holds the brain. The brain is inside of a liquid bath that keeps it clean, with the dome acting as the seal of the original skull.

Yet his brain has suffered neural pathway death from being pronounced dead, and removed from his original body. It has lost some memories, ability to reason and decision making. Which leads into his bumbling and careless behaviour along with his disregard for others at times.

He also lacks testicles, yes strange, but as a cyborg built for upholding the law and not meant for sex he doesn't need them. The phallus remains for the human brain to not have complete shock of a outsourced body. While the body is based on his own, its made to be specifically 'perfect.' Yet given a few years for the AI system and his real brain to melt together, the use for pleasure has been rekindled, Quimby's earth is shattered once again.

(Bad drawing of skeleton thing next)

The insides have more room for gadgets than organs. The space is filled with many of his gadgets, most of the longer ones like the helicopter go into the spine area until needed, freeing the head to move.

The head weighs the most and needs the help of supports which are hidden behind the high collar of the trench coat. Four cable plugs are also visible and are hidden by the clothes.

The eyes connect into the skull and will change colour depending on their use. Most the time they have a blank empty look of white for normal use.

I ran out of drawings for the time being. It feels good to be able to share my Gadget AU headcanons that ultimately will end up in my fanfiction once my semester is over. I'd love to share more later if asked.

I thank that frame of Gadget getting shocked from the 2015 show, to give me a drive to want to explore the inside more and expand on them.

#11cleyvaart #click for better quality #inspector gadget #inspector gadget au #Ask #headcanons #Long ass post #Inspector Gadget 2077 #HC

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liam-neesons-best-girl · 3 months

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Losing Power {Bryan Mills (Taken) x Reader}

approx. 700 words

Summary: You and Bryan had planned a date-night-in but the weather alters your evening.

Warnings: F! reader, drabble, fluff

You finally arrived at the entrance to Bryan’s apartment building soaked in the relentless rain that had been coming down for a solid 12 hours. As he fumbled with the keys you had in one bag, half a dozen movies to watch from the rental shop and in the other, the ingredients to make the best lasagna Bryan has ever tasted.

However, mother nature had plans of her own that evening. Instinctually Bryan reached over to the light switch to illuminate the kitchen, but to no avail. It was pitch black darkness. He muttered a couple of swears and vigorously flipped the switch a couple of times to confirm what he wanted least. You have no power.

“What’s wrong, Bry,” you asked, oblivious to the situation. You were so focused on planning your little ‘date night in’ that the delayed turning on of lights didn’t faze you.

“Here, let me take those, Love,” he said gesturing to the bags at your side to place them on the counter. “It looks like we’ve lost power because of the storm,” he said slowly and a bit nervous of your reaction, since he knew you were looking forward to this date.

“Well we better get into some dry clothes and layer up then,” you said in all seriousness. You are a natural adaptor, Bryan thought. So ready for whatever the world throws at you. At the both of you, together.

He leads you down the dark hallway until you reach his bedroom. There you both strip down to your underwear and find some dry, comfortable clothes. There is the vague suggestion of light coming through the bedroom windows, allowing you to see the items in his drawers.

“Uhhh, I don’t really have anything in your size, sweetheart. Are these alright?” he asked, holding up a pair of sweatpants. You take them from him and have to roll the waistband a couple of times before you wouldn’t trip on the pant leg.

“Perfect,” you cheer. You also reach for a long sleeve thermal running shirt of his as well as wool socks. You give him a peck on the cheek as ‘payment’ for the clothes and set off to collect the necessary blankets to create a sleeping haven of warmth in the living room.

As you arrange the blankets and pillows to create the most inviting ambience, out comes Bryan from the hall, only heard by his thunderous footsteps. You plug in the battery pack to the lamp and are greeted with a marvelous sight: Bryan in very loose gray sweatpants and a large cable knit sweater. This isn’t such a bad night after all.

He nestled into the cozy set up you prepared on the reclining chair and opened his arms wide for you. “C’mere, Love,” is all you needed to hear before practically jumping into his lap and settling in the crook of his neck.

You both giggle as he tightens his hold around your body, not letting an inch of skin be exposed to the cold air. As the giggle subside you hear Bryan let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry our plans got ruined," Bryan murmured, his voice laced with regret. "I know how much you were looking forward to tonight."

You tilted your head up to look into his eyes, seeing a sincere look on his face. “It’s okay,” you said while tracing shapes on his chest. “I’m just glad to be with you, no matter what it is we are doing.”

Bryan pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

After a beat of silence he let his intrusive thoughts win. "I hate the thought of you being alone in the dark like this," he admitted, his voice soft but resolute.

“Hush, hush, big bear,” you said, cuddling impossibly closer. “I'm not alone tonight. I have my handsome man to protect me," you said locking your hands around his neck.

Bryan felt proud in that moment, happy that his girl was happy. He leaned down to have your heads rest on each other.

By morning there would be power, he thought, and you could resume your date night just as it was planned.

#liam neeson #liam neeson fan fiction #qui gon jinn #liam neeson x reader #liam neeson fan fic #qui gon jinn x reader #star wars #qui-gon jinn x reader #qui gon #love actually #taken #bryan mills #bryan mills x reader #taken movie

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rune-writes · 2 months

Text

Sakura Kaleidoscope

Fandom: Persona 5

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Gen

Pairing: Ren Amamiya/Ann Takamaki

Summary: The day before Ren is set to go flower-viewing with Ann, Sojiro gifts him an old camera he once had. Only, it seems the camera holds more memory than the old coffee master would like to admit.

Notes: it's been so long since i last wrote shuann. so here is a little something for the Week :) written for @shuannweek 2024 Day 2: Photography.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ren found a camera tucked in the corner of an old dusty box at the attic. He had been cleaning his room when he decided to look into the cardboard boxes he had left untouched the entire year he was there. A small black bag sat in the depths of one of them. When he took it out, he disturbed the layer of dust that had settled there, prompting him to cough.

“A DSLR?” he said to himself, taking the camera out for inspection. He turned it around and dusted it off. It still looked as pristine as new, as though it hadn’t seen much use before it was shelved inside the box. A shame, he thought. Ren didn’t know much about cameras but it seemed like a good model. He pressed down on the power button. It stayed dead.

Of course.

Rising to his feet, Ren climbed down the stairs into the coffee shop. Business was slow. Only the old couple were present, conversing about nothing in particular. Sojiro sat on the counter as he watched TV, a bored look on his face. He was in the middle of a yawn when Ren approached, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the camera in Ren’s hand.

“Now that’s something I haven’t seen in a while,” he murmured.

“I take it this is yours then?” Ren asked.

Sojiro grunted. “Was mine, I guess.” He took the camera from Ren and fumbled with it for a bit. He tried turning it on, only to chuckle wryly when it refused. “Of course. How many years has it been since I last used it?”

“I didn’t know you used to do photography.”

“I didn’t.” Sojiro huffed. He didn’t offer further elaboration.

“Oh come now!” came the old woman’s voice. Having heard their exchange, she countered, her husband nodding his affirmation. “Didn’t you used to bring a camera all the time whenever you went out with that young lady. What was her name again? Ishi… Ishikawa?”

“Isshiki, I think,” her husband offered.

“Right! Isshiki! She was such a lovely woman. Smart, too.”

Sojiro cleared his throat. “All right, all right! That will do! Any more and you’d expose all my embarrassing secrets.”

“My, So-chan, I would think you’re old enough not to be embarrassed by your own story.”

The old couple giggled, much to Sojiro’s affectionate vexation. Although, when Ren deigned to join in the fun—a little smirk and a half-breathy chuckle—his guardian hit him with an ice-cold glare.

“Sorry,” Ren mumbled.

“Anyway,” he went on, giving the camera back to Ren, “you can have it if you want. I don’t have much use for it any longer.”

“Really?”

Sojiro shrugged. “Better you than me, in any case. Don’t think she’d like it if it stayed cooped up in a box, collecting dust. I think you’d make a fine new master for it.” The old proprietor gave him a rare grin before his face twisted into consternation. “The problem is I can’t remember where I put the charger. It should be in the box along with the camera. But if not, I’ll take a look at my house.”

It wasn’t in the box, so later that day, Sojiro had Ren mind the shop as he went back to his house. It took a while, but after an hour or so, he returned with the charger, saying, “Sorry, got caught up in cleaning some stuff out.”

Ren brought the charger to his room, where he connected the cable into the camera, then plugged the other end into the socket behind the TV. A red light blinked back at him. Ren didn’t quite know how long it’d stayed dead, but at least the charger still worked. He only hoped that it was still functional.

He left it alone then to help Sojiro at the shop until near closing time. He washed the dishes and swept the floor, and when there was nothing left to do but close for the night, Sojiro let him retire to his room. So he climbed back up, intent upon checking on the camera, when he found Morgana pawing it on the TV table.

“Hey.” He reprimanded the cat, swiping the camera off the wooden surface.

“The light was blinking so I got curious,” the cat said defensively, as though that was reason enough to almost drop it off the table.

“The light was blinking ‘cause it was charging,” he said. It was now blinking green. He unplugged the cable, sat on the couch, and turned it on. The screen blinked to life.

This brought him back. He used to play around with his father’s cameras when he was small. Ren directed the lens to Morgana and, adjusting the lens, snapped a picture. The pupils in Morgana’s eyes slitted at the sudden flash of flight; he snarled and growled then hopped off the table. Ren snickered.

“Let’s see now…”

Maneuvering through the myriad of buttons and menus on the camera, Ren finally found the gallery, which showed him a photo of Morgana’s blank face. He stifled a laugh and asked the cat to come and see. Morgana wrinkled his nose, but came up to the back of the couch and propped himself on Ren’s shoulder. He hissed at his own picture.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Ren said with a half-smile.

“For you, maybe.” Morgana’s paw came to Ren’s cheek in what he assumed was an attempt at a playful swat, but the soft pads only softened the blow so it felt like a pat instead, albeit a forceful one. Ren chuckled under his breath as his eyes drifted to the number at the top right corner: 83. He cocked his head to the side.

Pressing the next button, a picture of an unfamiliar house suddenly filled the screen, somewhat blurry. “Huh,” came Morgana’s quiet comment. The next several images were of the same house but from different angles, then empty streets—a neighborhood.

“Are they Sojiro’s?” the cat wondered.

“Probably.”

The next photo, however, made him pause. Ren saw a sakura tree in what looked to be a sidewalk, but it was the figure dressed in black that froze him. He shut the camera off so quickly that Morgana meowed in protest. Just then, lights from the floor below disappeared, followed by the sound of a jingling bell and the jangle of keys. Sojiro had exited the store, clicking the lock into place.

Ren sighed in defeat. Perhaps, he could ask Sojiro about it tomorrow.

***

Ann’s message came early the next morning. 9 AM at the station? She asked.

Ren sent a quick reply then got ready. Sojiro had already prepared curry for breakfast by the time Ren came down from his attic.

“Hanami, huh,” he mused. “Where are you going? Inokashira?”

Ren shook his head. “Ueno. We decided to go a little farther.”

An awkward pause fell before Sojiro said, “I see.”

Ren quietly eyed the coffee master, but Sojiro quickly regained his bearing. He hoped Ren would get some pretty views. It wasn’t quite the season yet but the news had reported some already blooming in places. Ren nodded absently—that was the reason why he had proposed the idea to Ann. He only had a few days left in Tokyo before he had to return to his hometown. They might not have a chance to go flower viewing together. Ann had then decided where they would go.

Silence stretched, filled only by soft TV noises. Ren cleared his throat.

“Sojiro, is it really okay for me to have the camera?”

“I already told you. It’ll only collect dust if I keep it.” He hadn’t even missed a beat. As though sensing Ren’s reluctance, he added, “Just think of it as a farewell gift.”

“What about the photos?”

“I doubt there’s much of it.”

Sojiro grunted and shrugged, as though wanting to drive home that the camera really didn’t mean anything to him. But rather than being nonchalant about it, he seemed to be avoiding the subject altogether.

“Can I look at them, then?” Ren tried again.

There, just a quick stilling of his hands before Sojiro returned brewing his coffee, but it was enough. “Suit yourself.”

Ann was already waiting for him by the time he reached Shibuya Station. It was already a bit warm so she wore a simple loose floral shirt with a pair of jeans. Her hair was unusually undone: long luscious blonde flowing freely down her back, kept in place by a couple sakura-patterned pins near her temple. Ren couldn’t help but grin when their eyes met.

“W—what?” Pink tinged her cheeks in fluster, though he suspected she knew what he was thinking.

Still, Ren grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers together. “You look pretty.” It took all his self-control not to break into the biggest, most idiotic grin he would have made because the way Ann’s face went instantly red looked so adorable, it was hard to contain his affections to a bare minimum in such a public space. Instead, he settled with a smirk—albeit somewhat teasing—which apparently did more damage than he’d realized. Ann’s ears went scarlet, then she playfully slapped his arm, which he deftly dodged.

“Stop being sassy!”

“I’m not,” he responded with a laugh. She really was beautiful, now even more so when the hint of a smile slowly revealed itself beneath her pout. He tugged her hand. “Let’s get going.”

The station was unexpectedly crowded for a Sunday morning, though the sakura blooming had reached the news so perhaps Ren should have expected otherwise. As they headed towards the platform, Ann noticed the square black bag Ren was carrying on his shoulder.

“A camera,” she said when he showed it to her. She studied it, fumbled around with it. “Sojiro’s, did you say it was?”

Ren nodded. “He said I could have it.”

“Huh. I didn’t peg him to be into photography.”

“Neither did I—” The sound of a camera shutter cut him off and Ren looked up. Ann had turned the camera on and directed it at him, smirking. He frowned. “Hey. Delete that.”

“Why? You look good.” She giggled.

“Ann—”

She stepped away when he reached out to grab her hand. “Candid is best,” she said, still giggling. He tried to catch her but she stepped away again, and again, and again, always keeping herself just out of reach, until Ren sighed in half-exasperation and made to run for her—

When the intercom announced the arrival of their train.

“Ah! It's here!” Ann shut off the camera and took his hand. “C’mon, we don’t wanna miss it.”

They slipped into the crowd and managed to grab a seat inside the train. Ann returned the camera back to Ren, who turned it on again at the first chance he had. You look good, she’d said, when all the pictures she had taken were either in an odd angle, blurry, or even downright bad. What was even this shot of his close-up skin that he could almost see his pores? Ann giggled softly again when she noticed what he was frowning at.

“You know I’ll get back at you ten fold, right?” he said.

“You know I’ll be ready for it.”

She grinned, and he resisted the urge to bop her head or even kiss her cheek. Instead, he sighed, turned the camera off, then stashed it back inside his bag. He spotted her hand on her lap and inadvertently intertwined his fingers through hers.

“Ren—” She made to pull away, but he locked their hands together.

“That’s what you get for teasing me,” he said.

Her face twisted in such a way that usually bespoke of an upcoming counter, but eventually, Ann settled into his hand and into her seat.

“You started it,” came her quiet mumble.

This time Ren did bop her head. Albeit fondly.

***

Their destination was Ueno Park. It took only a few minutes to walk from the station. The news reported that the sakura blooms had been spotted in the park as early as two days ago. Indeed, as early as it was, a crowd was already trickling into the park. Not as much as peak season but already a hefty amount, according to Ann. They entered the gates, then followed the crowd, letting the sea of people carry them to where the heart of sakura blooms gathered.

Ren took out his camera again. Letting Ann walk ahead of him, he called Ann to a stop once she reached some distance away. He had already put his eye behind the camera by the time Ann half-turned towards him, and then he snapped the picture. Ann exclaimed in surprise when she realized what he’d just done. Ren, meanwhile, was half-smiling to himself as he checked the result of his work.

“Not bad,” he mused—it wasn't blurred at least—just as Ann stomped back towards him and said, “Don’t just take my picture like that.”

“Candid is best, as you said so yourself.” Ann fumed, made to snatch the camera away, but Ren held it out of reach. “I told you I’d get back at you ten fold.”

He grinned, to which Ann scowled. “Fine. But I’m taking your share of the crepe.” Because apparently that was where Ann had been heading: a crepe stall erected on the side of the wide central path flanked on each side by tall sakura trees now in bloom. Yes, it wasn’t peak season yet—not all the flowers had blossomed—but pretty dots of pink and white had decorated the boughs on either side, giving off a sweet scent that only came around once a year.

Ren could only chuckle and acquiesce at her request.

He followed behind her, capturing moments left and right: a family of three, the father carrying his little girl on his shoulders; the flowers on the trees, going as close as he could to capture the delicate petals in his camera; the tranquil moat, the crowded stalls, then a wide shot of the sakura-lined path leading deeper into the park.

Ann was still queuing at the crepe stall when Ren returned. Putting his eye to the camera, he zoomed in. He took a picture of her back, at the way she slipped a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, of how she noticed his presence not far behind her, then her frown at the realization of being photographed silently again, and finally her small smile, and a full-on grin. He often thought that Ann’s features were dynamic—expressive. He swore he’d seen her cry, get mad, and laugh all in the span of one minute. Seeing the pictures he’d just taken, Ren knew it wasn’t just his feelings.

Ren was just stashing his camera back inside his bag and meant to wait in the queue with Ann when Ann appeared behind him. She gave him a crepe—Banana and Lemon. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Let’s find somewhere to sit,” she said instead, then added with a glance, “and I’m gonna take a look at the pictures you've taken.” She didn’t leave any room to say no. Not that Ren would want to .

So they walked down the path, enjoying their crepes—hers was Double Chocolate & Almond. Farther into the park, they found a rather empty spot beneath a tree on the bank of the moat. Ann took a picnic mat from her bag and spread it out for them.

It was nice, he thought. The air was slightly warmer now, the sakura—while still early—was beautiful. Out on the still water, people rowed boats languidly.

Ren showed Ann the camera gallery after they finished their crepes. They started with the ultra-close skin-pore photo Ann had taken before, which made her laugh and him frown again. Then it cut into the park, and they saw pictures of families, children, and friends—all engaged in different forms of activities.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Ann said at the image of the general crowd amidst pink trees. “Have you ever learned photography before?”

“My father was a journalist so we had a camera at home,” Ren replied. “I used to mess around with it.”

Ann made a non-committal comment. Then she pressed next, and she paused. Ren looked over her shoulder and found that she had arrived at the first picture of her: her body half-turned, face set in inquiry, framed by the pink sakura blossoms on each side. The crowd almost drowned her, but her blonde hair and floral shirt was enough to make her stand out—at least to him.

He glanced at her, waited for her response, but Ann only clicked next, then next, and next again.

“You really meant it when you said you’d get back at me ten fold,” she said at last, but her voice was quiet. She’d arrived at her grinning face, zoomed in and angled. The sun almost made her gleam blindingly bright. Ren wouldn’t tell her but he planned to print that shot and slip it in his wallet.

“Aren’t I good?” he said in a forced smugness because Ann had become speechless.

“Really.”

Her honesty made him pause. She cleared her throat, shook herself, then clicked next again. Except, they’d gotten to the last of his pictures and were now back at the beginning. A shot of a house front looked back at them.

“Ah,” Ren said, reaching out to take the camera from her, “I think this is Sojiro’s. I haven’t taken much of a look.” A small lie, but it didn’t feel right to pry into another person’s memories.

Ann looked at him. “Sojiro gave it to you knowing he still had some photos in it?”

“He didn’t seem too keen about it. But…”

“But?”

He glanced at Ann, who was searching his face inquiringly. The camera was technically his now, and Sojiro did allow him to look through the gallery. He decided to show her the source of his hesitancy, skipped the next several images until they came to the one that had frozen him.

“Is that Futaba?” Ann said with a soft gasp.

A younger Futaba, barely twelve, they guessed. Her hair was still black, but there were no mistaking the big round eyes and glasses. Then the woman behind her could only be Wakaba Isshiki. They recognized the sleek black hair, sharp features, and neat dress.

Knowing the history between Sojiro and the Isshiki mother and daughter, there was no doubt the contents of the gallery would be private territory between Sojiro and his heart. And yet, the old coffee master had given him free rein on what to do with the camera as he saw fit.

“Did you tell Sojiro about this?” Ann asked.

“Couldn’t. He was avoiding it; wouldn’t even let his regulars tease him about it.”

Yet Ren was curious; he couldn’t deny that. Perhaps they really were nothing much, as Sojiro had claimed. He pressed the next button, then the next, and again.

What followed were a series of pictures of Wakaba and Futaba, sometimes together, other times alone. Feeding a stray cat, making curry, a trip to the park. The images felt warm, sincere. Even though Sojiro had claimed his feelings were one-sided, Ren could see how much the old man had meant to Wakaba. He doubted she would have been able to make such a bright smile had it been another person behind the camera.

Ren clicked next, and it seemed they arrived at a video.

“It’s so pretty!” A young Futaba ran across the screen; the camera desperately tried to follow her.

“Be careful, Futaba! You’ll trip!” a familiar voice appeared—Sojiro.

They spotted lanterns strung between sakura trees in full bloom. It was evening and the lanterns emitted a mesmerizing glow amidst the sea of flowers. Music echoed from the distance—drums. Laughter sounded nearby and the camera swiveled to the source.

“You’re such a worrywart, Sojiro. Futaba will be all right,” Wakaba said. “It’s not often she gets to have fun like this.”

“Yes, but—” The camera shifted again. Ren scowled inwardly at the haphazard movements.

Just then, Futaba fell, and Sojiro yelped. But Wakaba only laughed beside him. She rushed to the scene and helped her daughter stand up, murmured something to her, before both of them turned to the camera and Futaba called out with the biggest grin on her face, “Thanks for taking me here, Sojiro!”

They watched her run, watched as the camera trembled as it slowly, shakily, zoomed into Wakaba’s profile. She was watching her daughter frolic with the softest expression on her face. Then, as though she had just noticed the camera on her, she looked to her side and smiled.

The video ended, and silence fell.

Neither Ren nor Ann knew quite what to say. It felt like they had just glimpsed into the old man’s diary. Perhaps it was wrong of him to take the camera, but Sojiro clearly didn’t want it anymore.

A million things popped to Ren’s mind—things he would like to say to his guardian—but the words died before they could reach his mouth.

“This camera clearly holds important memories for Sojiro.” Ann broke the silence. “How could he throw it away?”

“He said that he doesn’t want it to collect dust.” Ren recalled what Sojiro had told him the night before. “That ‘she’ wouldn’t want it cooped up in a storage box.”

“She?” It clicked with her. “Did Wakaba give Sojiro this camera?”

“If that’s true, I can see why he doesn’t use it any longer.”

Ann pursed her lips in consternation. “Should you give it back?”

“Honestly, I’ve thought about it but I think he gave it to me as a way to respect Wakaba’s memory. So that the camera can be put to good use.” Sojiro might not remember just what this little box of memories contained, but from what Ren had seen, it was clearly important. The video dated five years ago. He could transfer them, save them somewhere, then give them to him before he left.

There were still several photos left before they’d reach his picture of Morgana from the night before, but Ren decided it was enough prying. He was about to shut it off when Ann spoke:

“That’s Ueno Park—those lanterns. It’s the Sakura Festival.”

Ann told him of the Sakura Festival that Ueno Park would hold every year in its grounds. They’d have lanterns strung between the trees and music to decorate the day. Sometimes parades would come down the central path. But it seemed right now the festival wouldn’t be until a few days yet when the sakura had fully blossomed.

She looked downcast, and Ren noted the melancholy in her tone as she said, “You would’ve been gone by then.” Now he knew why she had asked to visit Ueno Park today.

“It’s really pretty—” Ann perked up, “—especially at night when the lanterns are all lit up. We may not be able to see it today but I guess now you’ve seen how it would’ve looked like.”

Her smile was tight; her eyes hollow. She really was bad at hiding her emotions. He looked at his camera. Sojiro’s video was still displayed on the screen. A warm, eerie glow painted the trees; the lanterns all frozen in time. Beautiful, and alluring.

“Maybe we can see it someday.”

She looked up.

“I mean, we’ll be third-years next term,” he went on. “If I can get into a good uni in Tokyo next year, I should think we’ll be able to meet like this again. And perhaps hold a proper hanami, too.”

Her eyes lit up. She held up her pinky finger. “Promise?”

At that, Ren laughed. “What are we—kids?”

“I want you to promise me that we’ll go flower-viewing together again.”

She looked quite adamant, though the blue of her eyes glinted with delight. Seeing no other recourse, Ren chuckled under his breath, then twined his little finger with hers, locking the promise into place.

~ END ~

//////////////

A/N: the part about his father being a journalist is an old hc I had that I kinda explored in another fic of mine

#shuannweek2k24 #shuann #shuannweek #ann takamaki #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #persona #persona 5 #p5 #fanfiction #persona fanfic #p5 fanfic

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