#c) now you have to hope the robot doesn’t hallucinate

[happypeachsludgeflower]

I’m not really one to enjoy proving other people wrong. Simply knowing they’re wrong and I could is usually enough for me, (i.e. my dad’s insistence that Spock and Kirk are straight when we ALL know they’re not),

but last night I was given the immense satisfaction of explaining to my step father why his opinion was wrong is such detailed that the Asshole Who Knows Everything actually said, “You’re right.”

I shall be lording it over him for the rest of existence.

essay in the tags

[poisonedprose]

hii, saw you wanted asks for simon <3 could you maybe write something where the reader is a civilian and misses simon but cannot contact him. she has a horrible day everything goes wrong. (to the point where she doesn’t even notice his car in the driveway when she gets home). she’s overwhelmed, and it’s filled with fluff (and smut if you want!!)

₊˚✧ i miss you, i’m sorry — in which simon returns after being away for so long

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

warnings: 2k words, smut, fluff, a lil angsty curse words, porn with plot, unprotected sex, p in v, degrading, pet names (lovie), hand job, borderline obsessed!reader, borderline toxic!ghost

masterlists

Watching Simon come and go became a routine for you. There was never an explanation, maybe he thought you didn't deserve one, or maybe there wasn’t time. He would leave for days, weeks, months at a time, always prefacing it with "I'll be back soon." The first few times you tried to call him, aching to hear his voice after long days but you were always met with the robotic woman telling you the call could not be completed. 

You learned quickly there was no way to contact him during these mysterious vanishings. You theorized where Simon went late at night. Thinking he was a secret spy, or maybe he had a secret family. You hoped it wasn't the latter. As you lay on your back, blankets askew on your rather uncomfortable mattress, thoughts of Simon flood your brain, you wondered if Simon was doing the same.  

You wondered if for each thought of him, he had a thought for you. When you thought of his hands on your waist did he think of your lips on his neck? As much as your conclusion pained you to think about, you can’t help but dream of him. Of his husky voice whispering teases and playful remarks into your ear. You had fallen hard, and you weren’t getting up anytime soon.

You knew this was a one-way ticket to disaster. He could never be what you need and deep down you both knew that. It didn’t stop you though, you didn’t think anything could stop you. You didn’t even know if he returned the intoxicating feelings you had for him. To him, you could just be the other woman, and part of you didn’t mind.

There was something about him that was so addicting. Was it his smile? Or his cologne? Or maybe it was his eyes that you loved looking into. You wondered if you had any features that he could obsess over. It’s strange, to have such strong feelings for someone you barely know. 

Your shoulders hung low, your feet dragged on the ground, and your eyes were strained. You were tired, your nights that were supposed to be filled with sleep were only filled with fantasies. You turned your key in the door, turning it the wrong way at first, even though you could’ve sworn it was the right way. It took everything in you not to become upset. It amazed you how much power Simon had over your life when he wasn’t even around.

After taking a deep breath, you finally were able to unlock the door. You stepped inside, throwing your stuff onto a random side table that you got from a garage sale 3 years ago that you should really organize. You kick your shoes off, not bothering to place them into their spot, just leaving them in front of the door. You don’t even notice the second pair of shoes that are too big to be yours.

You walk further into the house, trying to make it to any surface to lie on, but instead of finding a couch or a bed, you find Simon standing with a cup of coffee in his hand. You're almost sure you’re hallucinating. “Miss me?” You don’t know what to do, should you hug him? Yell at him for drinking your coffee? Not even acknowledge him at all and just go to bed? 

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, afraid that if you were hallucinating, you didn’t want the neighbors to hear you talking to yourself. “Hey,” He matched your volume, then took another sip from the mug. Still, you didn’t move, you were sure he was real now but now the question was, how should you greet him? He took the final sip of coffee and then placed the mug on the coffee table. 

“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” He doesn’t look at you as he asks, and it almost sounds like he’s teasing you. He probably is, but you didn’t care. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He chucked softly before returning the hug, only draping one arm around, being the other one up to pat your head. 

You didn’t move from this position, though neither of you really mind it. The sun was starting to set but still, neither of you really mind it. You didn’t know what to say to him. You wanted to ask where he was, where he went for so long. But you knew you would only be answered with, “You know I can’t tell you.”

You did know, but you were still curious. “Where were you?” You whispered. “You know I can’t-” “I know.” You cut him off, sighing softly. He pats your head again, trying to apologize for not being able to tell you. Maybe one day he could, but for now you just basked in the moment of feeling his arms around you once again.

“You tired?” Was it that obvious? “A little.” He nodded even though you weren’t looking at him. “Are you going to fall asleep standin’ up?” He laughs, his chest rumbling, making you feel safe in his arms. “Maybe.” He shook his head, moving both of his hands to your butt before picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his torso, moving your head off his chest and finally looking him in the eyes. 

You didn’t know if his feelings for you were gone after being away, or if they were ever there. He doesn’t say anything as you examine his face. ‘It’s definitely his eyes.’ You think, answering your own question from nights ago. You don’t think as you push your lips against his. You missed him far too much to not kiss him. 

To your satisfaction, he kisses back, almost more eagerly than you. You smile, happiness warming your body, or maybe that was from Simon’s body being pressed so closely to yours. You pulled away from the kiss, going back to examine his face, mostly his eyes. “I missed you.” You whispered, biting your lip after the practically deafening sentence.

“I bet you did.” Again he matches your volume, and too prideful to admit he missed you too, but you know. You can see it in his eyes, and feel it in his words. You press your lips to his again, more eagerly, more passionately. 

He returns the kiss once again, pushing your body closer to his. One of his hands slide from your ass, up your back, and land on the back of your neck. He squeezes it gently and suddenly you’re aware of how much you missed his subtle touches. 

He walks forward, sitting on the couch and you’re quick to fix your position to straddle him. His hands move to your waist, rubbing small circles as you disconnect from the kiss and begin leaving small kisses on his neck. Your tinted lip balm staining his skin ever so slightly. 

He sighs contently, loving the feeling of your soft lips on his neck. His hands slide under your shirt, his warm hands on your bare back. Maybe you didn’t know where or why he disappeared and left you high and dry for long periods of time, but it didn’t matter. He always made up for it by treating your body heavenly.

Without moving your lips away from his neck you lead a blind hand to his pants, fiddling with the zipper trying to undo them. “Someone’s eager.” Simon chuckles. He moves his hand towards his zipper, helping you pull it down when he notices you struggling, confirming he wants it just as badly as you do.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you when you were gone.” You admit shamelessly, as he unbuttons his pants. You pull his boxers away from his skin, pulling out his semi-hard cock. You jerked him slowly as you left marks on his neck. He was enjoying how eager you were. It was sensual, you missed him so much, how could you not be?

"Is that so?" He whispered in your ear. His voice was raspy, it always was when he returned, raspier than usual at least. He was teasing you, finding pleasure and amusement in your admission. Had his lack of presence really had that much of an impact on you? The tiredness from your long day was easily being replaced with need. How long had it been this time? 3 months? 4 months? You lost count.

"Don't start that." Your lips tickle his neck with each word. You couldn't be bothered with his games, not this time. Not when you spent months awaiting his arrival. He was always different after each coming and going. It was always a slight change, but you never failed to notice it, no matter how hard you tried. 

"Don't start what?" He smiled at you with a cocky grin displayed on his face. Your eyes gloss over his face, he had a new scar on his lip. You brushed your thumb over it. "How do you always get so many of these?" It was rhetorical. You knew he wouldn't tell you. He was covered in scars, each one having a story to be told, but Simon never did. He took your hand in his, lowering it from his face. "Don't start what, huh?" He was deflecting, per usual.

"Your games." He lets go of your hand, returning it to its place under your shirt. Your free hand was still jerking him, slowly but pleasurably. "I'm not playing games." He was. He always was. "I'm just teasin' ya, lovie. No games, just fun." Games, fun, really they were both the same.

He laughs lowly, lowering his head to kiss your shirt-covered shoulder. One of his hands slides down your body, stopping when he reaches the end of your shorts. He moves your panties to the side, two of his fingers sliding through your folds. 

“So wet f’r me, yeah?” He whispers in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Did you miss me like this the whole time?” You roll your eyes at his cockiness, despite him being right. “Maybe.” You answered. “Maybe?” He questioned. “If you’re allowed to keep secrets so am I.” He laughs again, kissing your shoulder once more. “Fair enough.”

He takes your hand off his cock that’s painfully hard by now. He needs you too badly to enjoy the foreplay any longer. He tugs your shorts down roughly, too eager to pull off your underwear. He shoves your panties to the side before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

You pushed your body against his, biting your lip to quiet your moans. “Missed this tight pussy.” He groans. His hands stray to your ass cheeks, squeezing each of them with his firm hands. 

It’s pathetic how eager both of you are. Both pent up, frustrated, perhaps for different reasons. The way your bodies are pressed together is a sin. Barely any clothes have been taken off, so why do you feel so dirty? 

Maybe it was because of how deep his cock was buried in you. Or how hard your fingernails were pressing into his biceps. It could be both, it’s definitely both. If passion is a sin then so be it. He was always so good to you. Fucking you until you were crying, asking if you could give him just one more. 

You moaned his name, with each thrust. Giving up on trying to be quiet. He preferred when you were loud anyway. “Yeah? Moanin’ my name like a slut?” His words were harsh but his soft kisses on your temple were all the reassurance you needed. 

“Your slut.” The words slide off your tongue before you have a chance to think about them. His hips stutter when he hears what you said, holding back a throaty moan. “My slut, eh? At least you know it.” He rasps out, a smile mixed with cockiness and something you can’t decipher strung on his face. “My fuckin’ slut.” 

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ💋 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

[busdriverwithagun]

It took approximately 13 minutes for one of the scouts to find Dr. Franklins computer. It had no struggle whatsoever breaking into it. After giving the available information a once over, it sticks its finger into the USB port and begins to download the information.

Fred just found Dr. Franklins PC.

Dr Franklin being the dude behind the shifter buses?

Yes.

Wait who’s Fred.

Scout B.

We’re naming the robots now?

I have one, don’t I? I think they deserve them.

Al…right then. Sure. So, B is Fred. What about A and C?

I was thinking…actually. Let’s let them choose.

Are…are they even able to choose?

Not…not really, no. Hm. I’ll fix that real quick.

Excuse me?

Nothing. Hey, you seeing these bus tests?

Give me a minute. Hey Fred?

Fred walks over to gun and gets on his knees. A monitor pops out from his chest.

Thank you. Not gonna lie, it would be nice if I could talk to these bots. Arty, is an intelligence boost within the realm of possibility?

I was already planning on doing that so let’s hope it is.

You were- nevermind. Alright, test file test file test fiiiiiile yep there it is.

Gun skims over the tests for the metal making up the buses. Super durable, super light, similar in composition to steel and- he pauses and squints at the screen. He reads the line again a couple times to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. He is not. The thing he read is an actual property of the metal.

The metal is. Alive. Living. No, actually, hold on.

Gun gets up and speed walks to the buses. She cuts out a small portion of one of their hulls and goes to look for a microscope. She finds one and puts the metal under it. Then, using a small, thin plasma knife, she makes a very very small cut in the metal. Looking through the microscope shows some of the cells moving to repair the molecular bonds of the metal. Meaning, that the metal is living and capable of repairing itself. Somehow.

Wh. How. Fucking how. It’s an inorganic substance how is it alive. What the fuck.

Uhhhhh. Hey gun, how about you take a look under that bus. Just. Just a quick look.

Why?

Just. Just do it. I barely understand it myself.

Gun raises an eyebrow. They then shrug and get the plank with wheels from the corner.

And I’m looking for what, exactly?

You’ll know when you see it.

Gun gets on the little cart and rolls under the bus. He sees a variety of things; pipes, framework that controls the wheels, more pipes, a face, a radia-

WHAT THE HELL?! WHY DOES IT HAVE A FACE???

I don’t fucking know!!!! I’m even MORE confused than you! The scans from the drone showed that there’s hands and legs and shit somewhere in these things.

There’s. Excuse me there’s WHAT.

You heard me. HANDS AND LEGS. Whole ass LIMBS.

But like. Why!!! And if they do have limbs, why do they have them folded into themselves?? What’s the point of a bus having legs if it ca-

Gun pauses. She blinks a couple times in thought. She… she has experience with this sort of thing. She’s familiar with this topic. Well, not familiar, considering she still has no clue what the fucks going on. But she’s certainly seen this before. She just… doesn’t remember when.

If it. Can’t…walk. Hold. Hold on.

Gun gets out from under the bus and begins looking at its sides. When he gets to the front, he stops. It’s the symbol from the holomatter projector. The…the…

Gun thinks. Where has she seen that symbol before? Looking at it gives her a feeling of grief. Of sadness. One so extreme that it could be compared to the feeling one would have while living through a war. War… the war. The Great War. That’s where she saw it. During the war. But who wore it? Who’s symbol was it? Gun concentrates, and thinks back as far she possibly can. Who wore that insignia? Who’s was it?

Suddenly, they remember a figure. A large one, one of immense power and one that induced fear. A silver figure with spikes protruding from their- from his shoulders. A large, purple cannon on his arm. A determined, violent look in his glowing red eyes. And… the symbol on his chest. The… the deception insignia.

Gun looks at the buses with a look of fear. ‘They’re here’, he thinks to himself.

H-hey arty? Did Franklin say where he found these buses? I’m assuming he didn’t make them.

All over the place, really. One on the street, the others in the junkyard.

Alright. Are the bases defenses still functioning?

Yeah…? Is there any reason they should be? We’re considered destroyed, aren’t we?

No no, it’s- it’s fine! Just curious is all.

Gun looks at the buses again.

‘Yeah no, still scared shitless.’

[oo3helcacn]

Mystic Messenger Christmas DLC - Normal Ending

I had the hardest time getting this last ending and couldn’t find a guide for it so I wrote this up so there’s at least one guide somewhere.  Please message me if there’re any mistakes and I hope this helps!

Make sure to attend every chat!  I don’t know if the text messages have any effect but I didn’t answer any texts.

Christmas Eve (1st day)

[00:01] Christmas Eve...

Hello, Zen

What’s wrong, Zen?

Do they do fund-raising events in RFA too?

Is Jumin planning with us too?

It’s okay tokeep yourself a little busy

Native Norwegian attire?

Jumin couldn’t do anything about it either, right?

You can’t come on that day?

Good-bye, honey~

Sweet dreams, Yoosung

[03:03] Overloaded Jaehee

Assistant Kang, you came right on time.

You seem to have a lot of work.

Yoosung seemed to have worked hard!!

Aww Jaehee.  There, there

I think it’s “Law of the Wolf and Lamb”.

Tada!  Mr. Jumin Han is here!

Could it be with a girl...?

Please try not to be late, so that Jaehee doesn’t worry.

Good-bye.

707?

I’m thinking of leaving too.

[06:48] 707 on Eve

Are you sure you’re not hallucinating?

What are you doing today, Seven?

Welcome, V.

May I go as too?

Why?!

V... you’re a very mysterious person.

See you tomorrow~

I’m strong so I’ll protect you with my whole body.

Whoosh (*Disappears*)

[09:17] V’s participation

Is the event planning going well?

He seems handsome, I really want to see him in person.

Maybe it’ll complicate things if use the RFA name.

I think it’s better to wait and see.  We don’t know how people think.

I want to think that it was an unavoidable...

Something does seem weird.  I can understand why Yoosung feels upset.

You’re holding on thanks to Jaehee.

Jaehee, you didn’t attend the event 4 years ago?

Did something show up?

I feel bad when I think of Yoosung having to work so hard...

Yoosung, aren’t you busy too?  Shouldn’t you get going?

I’ll look forward to it.  Bye bye

[11:24] Spend X-mas with someone

Excuse me...

I want to ride in Driver Kim’s car too.

That seems right lol

It seems like Jumin would spend time with Elizabeth the 3rd on a day like this.

If you deny it, then that means you are a robot,

I have a bad memory with Christmas so I’ll pass.

It’ll be fun to learn the art of shadow cloning

Is this an important day for you?

I’ll get going too ^^

[13:42] Jealous ZEN

Gasp, the Christmas couple movie that’s coming out!

It sounds like you’re saying lines form a play.

Yes yes...

Jumin, welcome!

Zen.... were you?

White Day and Pepero Day are also made for commercialization.

That’s kind of random...

I think Jumin can maintain a long lasting relationship based on trust.

Why are you asking something like that?

That isn’t enough.

That’s so harsh, especially on Christmas.....

Is this another world?  My mind is blown away....

Please don’t make Jaehee work too hard on Christmas.....

Maybe something bad happened at the meeting earlier.

Yes, goodbye.

[16:15] Dreams for Christmas

Yoosung, is everything going well?

Yes, but I don’t really like things like that lolol

Seven lolol~  It looks like you are in a good mood.

I’m also curious!  Please tell me if you have a Christmas dream hehe

...

I don’t care

So that means you won’t be going...  It would’ve been nice if you helped Yoosung T_T

I’m not in danger, right?

If there is even a 1% chance of a security breach

It’s really unlike you, Seven.

Please reconsider going...

Me?

That’s true, it is kind of interesting.

He should be more sociable like you.

Jaehee..... hang in there.

Yes, go on ahead.

[18:06] Cold Jumin

Hello.

I will spend it feeling a bit lonely.

Like other people?

It hurts me to see Yoosung feeling down...

Jaehee!

hahah, your face is blurry.

Ha ha... this is really....

It would be safer if you think two or three steps ahead.

Jumin, you will be attending tomorrow right?

Did you two... get into a fight?

Just try and come clean with whatever it is.

You’re going to give her more work on Christmas night?  Please be considerate of Jaehee..

Is it just me... or are you trying to run away??

You will earn a lot of money... take comfort in that.

Don’t drink that and cheer up!  Don’t you know it’s not good to drink too many of those?

Good luck on your work.

[19:18] Can’t rest on Christmas

707 is here!!  Open up the gates!!

Jaehee is going to work after the event is over.  Isn’t Jumin being a bit too much T_T It’s Christmas!!

If someone like Jumin were my boss..... I honestly think it could be a bit romantic.

It’s bad to fight.  I want peace!!  I respect everybody’s preferences!!

Yup✩!

Let’s stop now~

Yes

I want to spend a nice warm Christmas with Zen T_T sniff sniff

I don’t want to do what everyoneyone else is doing...

I don’t need to follow something like that.

Zen,I’ll warm you up with my words, hoo~♥

It’s so cute!  I feel so much brighter^^

I want to go on a date with Zen...

Running away;;;; is that okay?

Merry Christmas Eve!

That was unexpected...  I’m really getting lonely now... T_T

Yes, go on ahead~

[20:53] Preparation

Hello.

Jaehee would feel so proud too.

Welcome, Jumin.

If Yoosung gets hired... it’s not certain if Assistant Kang would feel less burdened.

Yeah, it’s still hard to accept....

Yoosung, try and respect what V did.  He is the person Rika chose.

If you’re free I hope you could help Yoosung and Jaehee...

I want to stay at home like Seven...

I know what you mean.  Hurry and go to bed.

[23:01] Christmas Soon!

Did you just discover a rabbit?!

Jaehee, was work good today?  Did you have any problems?

It’s so sad that I couldn’t help Jaehee...

I want to see Seven...  But I can understand why he would want to be alone lol

; ...

Thank you.

I’m a bit sad that Seven can’t come...

Christmas Day (2nd day)

[00:01] Ungrateful Christmas

I was getting ready to go to sleep soon.

Was practice hard for you?

Did something happen?

What bad luck...  I guess that means you can’t go to the event today.

Hi Seven

Merry Christmas to you both!

Zen, is there any way you can skip practice T_T

I hope the new role have more lines and actions.

I want to see the nude scene....  Ahem.

Sleep soon and good luck tomorrow.

[02:24] Christmas’s duty

Jaehee... I can’t sleep~!  Let’s chat.

Zen, your shirtless scene +_+

Everyone in the RFA is ties up with work....  I should at least enjoy Christmas

It’s important to spend Christmas celebrating.

I don’t know.  Sometimes I think luck can be more important than diligence...?  It all about luck

I am also going to sleep soon...  I came to chat with you

[05:50] Yoosung’s X-mas memory

Hiya

Uh oh...  No!  Don’t use that T_T I’ll getchu new ones

What kind of memories do you have of Christmas, Yoosung?

You and I are alike...

I am proud of you, Yoosung!  It’ll be a great success, cheers!

What’s more important than your name is your will.

It would be nice if Jumin can go a bit early to help Jaehee...

Bye~

[08:43] Yoosung and C&R

Poor Yoosung...  Shall I text him to run away...

I started it a bit special.  I am excited!

People who are going to work today must have a hard time. T_T Jahee too...

Are you talking about V..?  Something really did happen between you two.

Yes!  Is event going well?

How come you are not getting in touch with your family?  People worry about you.

Wouldn’t releasing stress be first for Jumin.  Work can come after, one by one :)

Reading is the best.

You can call the President and work with the phone :)

Go ahead.

Go and work now~

[10:32] Not everyone is happy

Hooray

Is your Christmas going well?

It’s not that kind of day for me..

I hope Seven is not included there... it’d make my heart ache...

So Seven, are you unable to workbecause you’re sad?

Just be a great donating Santa for me today.

Come on then

Yes, see you again!

You can’t help but be suspect something.  Afterall, this game’s title is...

Yes, but we should be understanding of everyone’s circumstances.

Yes, I hope the event is good :)

[13:06] Depressing day

Yes, just stay calm today

Come to my place too!!

But that’s only possible in your dream

I hope... that dream comes true.  I wish that it’d happen today.

Cheer up Zen!  Even when you are working hard, my heart will be burning for you!

Jumin, have you organized your thoughts?

I’ll be thankful if you help well with Jaehee’s work, Jumin.

It sounded too serious to be a joke.

I heard that C&R is making a great contribution to our GDP growth!

You just came to chill out!

Thank you for welcoming me, Jumin :)

Zen, I will be cheering for you!

[16:07] All because of <name>

Wow, Seven!  It’s such an honor to see you!

Wow!!!  I announce Seven as the hack of the year with the most released cat videos!

Oh, C&R stock has gone up...?  Maybe I should buy some.

Yes...... it’s all about circumstances!  Some people could be on another planet!

Jumin the slacker is taking care of Jaehee’s work, is that true?

Are you going to fix mine too?!

Right, Jaehee!

See you soon~

I’ll muster up all my cheers for you!  Seven, cheer up today!

I should be thankful that you have work.  You should go now Seven!

[18:10] Reached the goal

How much is it?

You did such a great work!!  I’m so happy for you!

I am planning to go.

Zen, are you angry about something?

That sounds so annoying T_T

That’s right!  Have hope!

Zen, give me a ride on your motorcycle~

Christmas is passing by like this....

Fill the empty bowl with water

Don’t do that, try to be friends

So the year passes by like this for the RFA...

I am going soon so wait for me!!

That’s because it’s Christmas today.

Don’t smoke too much and be careful of your health!

[19:23] Successful event

Yeah, you did so well!!

I plan to go!

I thought it was normal to take a break on Christmas...  Everyone here’s so... lolol

Spending time with my cherished ones too!

Good luck with the event~

I hope you get good news~

[21:00] 707′s monologue

(At this point I don’t know if it matters or not what you say but I put down what I did just in case!)

Seven, you’re here!

Wow...  That’s amazing.

You were busy, so of course ^^;

Huh?  Why not!?  You should be the lead.

Yes, I’ll try to be positive about it.

How?

What are you planning?

Still, I had fun because of this messenger.

Yes...

[Visual Novel]

Yoosung...?  It’s me <name>.

No, not yet.  We should have cake together!

I’m eager to meet him.

Nice to meet you, Jumin.  It’s <name>.

Why don’t you donate more since you’re late?

I thought he was too busy to come.  I’m glad he made it.

How did you know it was me?

Is V really coming though?

Yeah, he might have some trauma related to Christmas.

I think Seven’s hacked into the system!

Forget the depressing things, and Merry Christmas~!

Merry Christmas.

[illumynare]

Red vs Blue Fic: Gift of the Magi (2/12)

Summary: Wash has already gone through too much, been broken too often. So when they get captured by Hargrove together, Tucker figures he has one job: until the cavalry shows up, keep Wash alive and (relatively) sane. No matter the cost.

Unfortunately, Wash is just as determined to protect him.

Parings: None. Warnings: Canon-typical language, aftermath of canonical character death, psychological torture, hallucinations, hallucinated child harm, fake-out character death.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

Hargrove makes the deal with Tucker.

And then he fucking makes him wait.

It's mind-games, that's what it is. Tucker vaguely remembers Wash lecturing him about interrogation techniques in the canyon, and okay, maybe Tucker should have listened a little better. He mostly just remembers staring at the canyon walls and thinking that the only torturer in his life was Agent Washington, and when Wash demanded, "What did I just say, Private?" he responded with his name, rank, and serial number, which got him another fifty squats.

Good times.

But there had been something about making people wait to psychologically undermine blah blah but a good soldier blah blah blah. Whatever. It's basically the same thing as a girl playing hard-to-get, and Tucker doesn't need any RTI training to deal with that, because when it comes to girls refusing to call or text, he is a pro.

Except.

Except this cell is really small, and there's no one else, and it's—there's this particular smell to the air on the Staff of Charon, and he can't stop thinking about that fucking trophy room and the moment when Church—

Tucker's kind of grateful when they finally come for him.

And it's not like it's going to be that bad, right? Tucker has no AI trauma. He's not going to get flashbacks. He just has to wait out whatever stupid tests Hargrove wants to put him through, and in like three days Carolina is going to be here with the rest of the cavalry, and they can punch Hargrove in the face and go home. Straight-up Freelancer justice.

When he gets to the lab, it isn't too creepy. There's a medical bed with restraints on it, and hung over it is a nest of a million wires with what looks like a big jagged piece of glowing green glass at the center.

So, alien tech. Fine. Tucker's been around the block with that kind of thing more than once. It can't be worse than that only-a-true-warrior bullshit at the jungle temple, where he had to fight a million Felixes. Tucker still gets nightmares about that sometimes. Whatever Hargrove has cooked up with his VR, it can't be that bad.

And the scientist is even kind of hot. In, you know, a really pale, sucked-on-a-lemon sort of way.

"Hey, baby," he says. "Do you—"

"Strap the subject down," she drones, not even looking at him.

"Fine, fine," Tucker mutters. He doesn't put up a fight as they hustle him onto the bed and strap him down. Because it's not a big deal. It's going to be okay.

Three days. Tops. That's all this is going to take.

He twitches when they pry open his neural implants and plug something in. It doesn't hurt, but there's this weird cold feeling, like a gust of air inside his skull, and then there's a buzzing sensation running down his spine—

—it’s cold and dark dark cold—

"—shut the fuck up, Caboose, I told you we could keep him!"

Tucker's jaw snaps shut as soon as he says the words. For a second he's dizzy enough to puke, and he's not sure where he is or why he's yelling at Caboose.

Then he blinks, and everything's fine. He's on Sidewinder, the Meta is dead, Church has disappeared into the memory unit like a fucking asshole, and Tucker's trying to pick up the pieces.

Caboose shifts awkwardly. "Yeah, but, I mean, he needs new armor."

"Why do we have to give him new armor? He fucked us over just fine with what he's got."

"Uhhh, because he needs to be blue if he's going to be on Blue Team. Duh."

Tucker looks beyond Caboose, where Doc is poking at Agent Washington, who's finally managed to sit up. He's got his helmet off, and he doesn't look like a badass Freelancer anymore. He's got a baby face under the armor, and his pale cheeks are turning red and splotchy with the cold, and he's staring at the chaos with a kind of dazed, dopey expression.

It's pretty pathetic. Especially since Doc is the only one paying any attention to him. The Reds are squabbling with each other, and Tucker's over here with Caboose, and—

"Stupid Tucker," Caboose mutters.

Yeah, Tucker is fucking stupid because he's letting the murderer join Blue Team. But he marches over to Agent Washington, because this is his mess now, and he never wanted to feel like he understood Church this much.

Doc is now shining a light into one of Agent Washington's eyes. "Okay, look straight ahead and tell me what letters you can see."

". . . you're giving me an eye exam?" Washington's voice is hoarse and incredulous, but he's not trying to fight Doc.

"Good vision is very important for a soldier!"

"U-N-S-C," Washington recites flatly, staring at the insignia on Doc's armor.

"Well, I don't think you need your prescription changed, but you should make sure to have an eye exam every six—"

"Seriously?" says Tucker. "Shut up."

Washington looks up at Tucker and he kind of—straightens his spine and falls in on himself at the same time. "Private Tucker, right?"

"Yeahhhh, or you could call me the Mighty Chosen One. Y'know, 'cause an entire alien race chose me to be their savior."

"Right," Washington sighs, and then he just . . . waits.

There's an ugly feeling worming through Tucker's gut. He keeps remembering Donut rambling about lightish red and Church grumbling about your freakish hellspawn, and now they're both gone, and the fucker who killed them is just sitting there, not meeting Tucker's eyes, like—like—

"Dude, what the fuck?" he says, and he grabs Washington by the collar and hauls him to his feet. "What is wrong with you?"

Washington doesn't say anything. His head bobbles a little, but he's still not meeting Tucker's eyes, and the look on his face is just—

Tucker remembers a lot more about giving birth to Junior than anyone thinks, and he remembers when it hurt so much that he just didn't care anymore, it didn't matter if he died because it felt like everything that made him Tucker was all used up. That's what Agent Washington looks like right now, and fuck, Tucker did not want to feel this sorry for him.

"The UNSC is going to put you back in prison," he says. "Like, as soon as they see you."

"Yeah," says Washington, still with that weirdly calm exhaustion.

Tucker is going to regret this. He is going to regret this so fucking much.

"Okay, Doc? I need you to help me strip Church."

"What?" says Washington, his voice cracking.

It only takes them a few minutes to get Washington's armor swapped with Church's. Everything about the plan is freaky and weird, because Tucker knew that Church was an AI with a robot body, but it's still kinda nauseating the way he clanks and flops over when they roll him out of his armor.

"I don't get why you're doing this," says Washington, as he snaps his new helmet into place.

"What, did they not have disguises in Project Freelancer?" asks Tucker.

As he says the words, he feels like something’s wrong. For a second he can’t figure it out, and then he realizes with an awful lurch to his stomach: he doesn’t have his sword anymore.

"Huh," says Washington. "Well, tell your friends I said thanks."

"Who, Caboose?" says Tucker, hardly paying attention. The sword’s not in his hand, not hanging from his hip, not lying on the ground near them. He can’t have dropped it. He never drops his sword. It’s his fucking trademark.

"No," says Washington, and there's this weird, smug note in his voice that sends a chill down Tucker’s spine. "I mean Church. And Donut."

"What—"

And that's all Tucker manages to say before Wash shoots him.

It doesn't hurt at first. He falls over, and he can't breathe, but there isn't any pain. Just this clawing, breathless feeling.

There's a screech, and then another gunshot—Doc—and then Washington says, "Thank you for the armor, Private Tucker," and steps over him.

All Tucker can think is, I fucked up.

He should never have listened to Caboose. He should have known this would happen. But he still feels this gaping sense of betrayal, like Washington looking so pathetic was some kind of promise.

Fuck that asshole. Tucker isn't dying now, he's not. But his stomach hurts, oh shit, it hurts worse than Junior, and he can't seem to catch his breath—

Tucker gurgles, and manages to haul himself up on his elbows.

That's how he sees Agent Washington walk right up to Caboose and shoot him right in the fucking face.

"No," Tucker wheezes, and he doesn't know how he gets to his feet, but it doesn't matter because Caboose has fallen over is already dead isn't moving is already dead—

"Dirtbag!" Sarge roars, charging with his shotgun. But it’s like Washington was never injured. He sidesteps Sarge, pulls the shotgun out of his hands and pumps it into his stomach.

Simmons shrieks. Washington flings a knife into his leg, follows it up with another, and where the fuck did he get all those knives?

Tucker tries to stagger forward and help, but two steps and there’s darkness swimming at the edges of his vision. He can barely stay on his feet.

More screams, more gunfire, and then—nothing. There’s no sound but Tucker's heart pounding in his ears, his own harsh breaths. He's the last man standing.

Then he isn’t standing anymore, because the adrenaline is seeping out of him, and he falls to his knees.

Everywhere he looks, there’s blood in the snow.

He was the last one left alive in Sandtrap too, but back then he could hope that the others were coming for him.

"What's the matter, Private Tucker?" Wash is right there by his side again—when did he move—wait, when did Tucker start calling him Wash?

Uh, like two days after he joined Blue Team? says a voice that sounds like Church, but that's not possible because Church is dead. Church is always dead.

No, duh! The point is, this isn’t real!

Tucker feels sleepy. Blood-loss, maybe. His mind is slowing down; his thoughts come in chunks, bobbing up and drifting against each other.

"You're not . . . Wash," he says.

There’s a smirk in the way Wash tilts his head. "No, I'm Private Leonard Church. And I'm going to tell the UNSC how you all died fighting the Meta."

"You're not real," Tucker whispers, but then Wash lunges with the knife, slicing into his throat, and it hurts he's choking on his own blood he can't breathe oh fuck oh fuck—

Tucker! Tucker, it's okay!

—it hurts—

—and Tucker wakes up choking and thrashing against the restraints.

For a few seconds it's still real, he still feels the raw, gaping edges cut into his throat, the blood pouring out. But then he realizes that he's still breathing. He's still alive, his face is awkwardly smushed into the padding of the medical bed, and the only liquid pooled around him is his own spit, because eww, apparently he drools when he's hooked into a VR.

It wasn't real.

The relief hits Tucker in stages. First: he's alive. Second: Caboose is alive, he's back at base with Carolina by now. Third: the Reds are alive too. Fourth: Doc is . . . who cares, but Wash didn't shoot him in the gut either.

Wash didn't shoot anyone. When they packed him into Church's armor on Sidewinder, he said, "I don't get why you're doing this," in that tired, defeated voice, but then Caboose started shouting about best friends forever, and then the UNSC turned up and somehow it was all okay.

Tucker realizes he's shaking. The simulation was fake, but the adrenaline it sent pumping through his body is totally real.

The memory of his throat splitting open under Wash's knife feels pretty real as well.

It's okay, though. Tucker can do this. It's only for a few days.

He can do this.

The training floor on the Staff of Charon isn't that different from the one on the Mother of Invention. It's not quite as big. Probably not capable of as many different simulations. But the way Wash’s footsteps echo in the wide, round room—the looming windows of the observation deck—the cold knowledge that if he doesn't perform well enough, the consequences will be unthinkable—

Everything that matters is the same.

"I hope you're not going to waste my time again, Agent Washington," Hargrove says through the loudspeakers. "I have limited patience."

"Yeah, I'd hate to disappoint you," says Wash, adjusting his grip on his rifle.

Yesterday was a failure. He managed to start the simulation, but then he panicked. Lost control. It wasn't good. But he practiced all night with the safety settings on, and now he's going to do this because he has to do this. Tucker doesn't get to live unless Wash goes out on missions and Wash isn't allowed on missions until he proves that he can used the Mark IV Targeting-Lock Interface.

He hopes that Tucker's doing okay. So far he’s only been shown brief clips of surveillance footage. He's not allowed to meet him again until after his first mission.

"FILSS, start the testing sequence," says Hargrove.

"Initiating testing sequence now," says FILSS. Her voice is dull, obedient; Wash knows she helped the others when they were aboard the Staff of Charon, but he doesn't think she’ll do anything for him and Tucker now.

Holographic blue hexagons appear around him in a ring and start rotating. Wash lets out a slow breath, tries to release the tension from his shoulders. He lets his eyes unfocus, because that's the best way to notice—

There. At the edge of the his vision, one hexagon has turned from blue to gold.

The next instant, it's ringed in two red circles. They look like part of his HUD, but Wash is nauseatingly aware that they're not passing through his optic nerves, they're being funneled straight to his occipital lobe by the Mark IV.

Target acquired. The voice is precise, mechanical. A lot like Freckles. Eliminate?

"Confirm," says Wash, but his arms are already lifting the rifle, pulling the trigger.

It feels like a reflex, but Wash knows it's not. He knows that it's the Mark IV moving his arms and sending the bullets straight through the center of the target. His heart jumps, and he can't help flinching back, trying to jerk his arms free even though thing is inside him.

To the left, another hexagon turns gold. Target acquired.  

Wash whirls to face it. The movement is sloppy, overshooting, and he knows that he's about to fail again. But he can't fail, he can't.  "Confirm," he manages to gasp, and his gun spits bullets again, and—

simulation_11010 live rounds on the training room floor and Maine is ripped almost in half, blood spreading around him in a pool, Wyoming alive but his spine snapped, the grenade paints York across the wall and I'm sorry to tell you I'm sorry to tell you I'm sorry

—there are more hexagons turning gold around him, target-target-target acquired, and Wash lets go. He whispers, “Safety off,” and he lets the Mark IV grip his brainstem and spin him around, gun firing. There are multiple holographic rings now, rotating at different angles, rolling around the training room floor; Wash whirls, and ducks, and somersaults, and shoots every target as it appears, his mind a white fog of panic. There’s no target acquired and no confirmed; there’s just a gun and the computer firing it. Wash is only a conduit.

Slowly, he realizes that it's over. That FILSS has already said, "Sequence complete," and the targets have disappeared.

His heart is pounding and his breath is rasping in his throat. But he did it. He isn't going to watch Tucker die.

"Excellent work," Hargrove says from above him. "Welcome to the team, Agent Washington."