#he is not from a cool technologically advanced one!

[the-twst-cast-needs-therapy]

So I really like the "what if" scenario of Idias dream of Ortho being alive.

We don't see how teen non-robot Ortho actually looks like or how he is as a person (besides being an extrovert).

I present to you a series of headcannons:

-Its unclear if the attack still happened in Idias dream. If it did, I think Ortho still has some scarring from it. It would be cool if he had a prosthetic to go along with it. Through that, the very central elements of loss and technology in Orthos character can be preserved through transformation.

-Both shroud boys are talented in programming and building stuff, but I think Idia is more promising programming while Ortho shows more talent in mechanical engineering. They sometimes help eachother out in projects and do collaborations. They'd also work together on updating his prosthetic from time to time.

-Ortho loves tinkering with blastcycles (is that how you spell it?), mechanical trinkets, and retro tech. Hes known as the handyman around the RSA campus.

-Since the Brothers attend different schools, they often meet at a burger place in town to debrief on current happenings. (When the desire comes to game together, they have to sneak eachother into their respective campuses to not cause any outrage amongst students)

-Orthos nerdy interests often revolve around social activities. He has found a recent appreciation for In person RPGs, board games and in person fan meets. His love for star rouge (among other retro games) still remains, he owns a themed puffer jacket with some cool patches on it.

-Ortho and idia wear their uniform in a similar manner, wearing their jacket instead of the blazer and some sneakers and (Styx) headphones. Ortho wears the aforementioned jacket since it is one of his most prized possessions.

-Ortho, similarly to Chenya, has friends in both NRC and in the RSA.

-Since Ortho is more extroverted, he shows significant advancements in his social development compared to his brother. Ortho still tries his best to get him out of his shell if he wants to. They practice public speaking and prepare presentations together. A big difference to cannon Ortho is that Idias dependency on him is definitely less severe, but still a problem. Idia often tends to shut himself off intentionally to not burden his brother, rarely this even leads to him (reluctantly) engaging in social activities on his own.

[agendercryptidlev]

Need less Silver with clothes designs that are high tech and clean and futuristic and more where he's wearing a T-shirt 5 sizes too big for him that is torn at the edges and singed and caked with mud as well as cargo paints cuffed to hide their frayed ends with pockets slightly bulging cause everything he owns, all his supplies, are all in there on his person at all times

[evilminji]

Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?

And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!

Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???

JUST SOME DUDE™!

Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?

On the SURFACE!

This place seems utopian!

No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!

Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!

Cause see?

There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?

Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)

Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.

Through the Zone.

Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.

They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?

And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!

If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.

No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.

Just? Imagine~☆

The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"

Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.

He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.

They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC👏

I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.

As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.

I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.

He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.

And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.

Either, Or.

I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.

There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

[wilwheaton]

Hey man, I could use a few talking points to help convince a friend that Musk is horrible. I'm reading 'Think Again' by Adam Grant (good read btws) and he says to help convince people to come to your viewpoint that it can be good to have 2 or 3 strong points instead of 10 mixed points. The counter argument I get from people about Musk being good is that he did spacex and tesla, and without him we'd be decades behind. Maybe, but I don't have good ammo. Please help as I get too angry tobe critical

Well, listen, the fascism, the transphobia, the chaos, and the unwavering support for autocrats all over the planet really ought to be enough to outweigh anything else, if you ask me. It sounds like you know some people who got excited about the companies he threw money at, and they are having a tough time updating their feelings due to current events. Or maybe they share his values and don't want to admit that.

But I'll try to offer some simple facts.

He did not do engineering with Tesla or SpaceX or even PayPal. He is a fraud. He walked into these existing businesses, where people had done actual work and engineering, threw some of his Apartheid money at them, and took credit for their work. He claims, over and over again, to be a founder of these companies, and that's just straight up a lie that is easily disproved.

He literally did nothing except throw money at people and take credit for their work. Look at every Tesla up to the (chokes back laughter) Cybertruck. Those Teslas look like cars, because they were designed by engineers. Look at the Cybertruck. When you stop laughing at what a joke it is, know this: that's what happens when Elon Musk is in charge. It's like a ten year-old with some crayons drew it on a menu at Denny's.

All of the things his weird fans claim he made possible, are things that would have happened, and were in the process of happening, without him. He literally did nothing to advance the technologies or engineering. In fact, SpaceX whistleblowers have told reporters how they had to keep Musk occupied with bullshit, so they could do the real work without him fucking it up all the time with his incompetence.

But even if he were telling the truth, even if the myth were fact, it would not outweigh the damage, the pain, the chaos, and the suffering he has inflicted on millions and millions of people, all over the world with his lies, his spread of misinformation, and his incitement of angry incels.

Also, don't forget, when Ukraine was trying to defend itself, he turned off Starlink access when they could have decisively ended Russia's aggression. A lot of people have suffered and died as a direct consequence of that action, which he took to support his buddy and fellow autocrat, Vladimir Putin.

That's more information than I think your friends will be willing to hear. Studies indicate that people who are heavily invested in the myth of a person will fight hard to hold onto the myth, and reject truth and facts, because it's so jarring to them. Musk has built a cult of personality, and maybe your friends are stuck to it.

I'd gently encourage your friends to consider one key fact: he has lied about his entire origin story, he has lied about his contributions to Tesla and SpaceX. He lies about everything, except when he posts on Twitter like a 12 year-old edgelord, because that's who he is, emotionally.

Finally, and this is for you, specifically: if your friends insist on supporting a fascist, a racist, a misogynist, or a bigot, because they think rockets are cool, maybe it's time to look for new friends.

I hope this helps.

And fuck Elon Musk.

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 4

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation, attempted rape, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglamela, @connorsui @iluvmewwwww75 , @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer @mysssticc @babygirl-panda19 @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1

AN: Bit of a late upload for you night owls and a nice surprise for my early risers! Someone tell me to stop making the chapters longer, thank you LOL. This chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you guys enjoy! This is on AO3 as usual! :D

"So… uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert. "Dog? What dog?" he said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question. "You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

Read Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.5

Xavier drummed his fingers rhythmically on the glass counter, each tap growing more impatient as the seconds stretched on. His eyes darted around the cluttered store, scanning the shelves filled with everything from worn-out sneakers to high-end dress shoes. The store clerk had disappeared into the back room several minutes ago, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Xavier wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping to find here.

He had strolled in with nothing more than a photo of a shoe print—a faint clue at best—but it felt more productive than sitting idly by, doing nothing while the answers to your disappearance slipped further out of reach. At least this was action, however uncertain.

Was this even a tangible way to find you? Was he grasping at straws, wasting precious time on a hopeless lead?

And the most haunting question of all—were you even still alive?

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut, as if closing them tightly enough could block out the flood of dark thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t afford to let his mind go there, not now. Pushing the fear and uncertainty away, he tried to focus on the faint glimmer of hope that had brought him here in the first place. Anything was better than surrendering to despair.

"This is all I could find on it. It's certainly a unique pair," the shop clerk continued, offering a slight smile. "I'm not as technologically advanced as most shops around here, so sorry to disappoint. But, may I ask—why come to my little shop instead of one of those fancy places downtown?"

Xavier took the pamphlet, glancing over the information quickly before shifting his gaze back to the clerk. "Well," he began, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I heard you were the kind of guy who could identify a pair of shoes just by its print."

The clerk chuckled softly, his weathered face creasing with the effort. "You've been a great help, actually," Xavier added, sliding the pamphlet into his jacket pocket with a nod of appreciation.

The clerk gave an approving nod, the lines of his face softening in quiet satisfaction before he turned his back again, settling into the familiar rhythm of his work. Xavier headed toward the door, the faint creak of floorboards beneath his boots echoing through the small, dimly lit shop. His hand hovered over the door handle, but just as his fingers brushed the cool metal, a nagging thought rooted him in place. He paused, heart pounding slightly as the question formed in his mind.

He turned back, the weight of uncertainty pulling at his voice. "Say... you wouldn’t happen to know where this shoe was originally made, would you?"

The clerk stopped, mid-motion, his hands faltering over a pile of worn soles. The question seemed to hang in the air, drawing out a moment of silence as the man stared down, his brow furrowing. It was clear he hadn’t thought about it in some time. Xavier felt a flicker of hope, unsure if it would lead him anywhere, but desperately clinging to the possibility.

The clerk finally turned, his face thoughtful, his voice quieter now. "Yeah..." he said slowly, as if pulling the memory from a fog. "Last I saw of that shoe, it came from a company based in the... er, N1—no, wait..." His brow furrowed deeper as he worked to piece it together. "N109 Zone. Yeah, that’s the one."

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight Xavier couldn’t ignore. The clerk’s tone wasn’t just casual recollection—it was tinged with something more, like the memory of that particular shoe stirred something deeper. Xavier felt the knot of tension in his chest tighten.

Xavier felt his breath catch in his throat. N109 Zone. The name alone sent a chill down his spine. He had heard plenty about that place—mostly rumors, but enough to know that it was a dangerous, lawless sector. Few dared to go there unless they had no other choice, and even fewer came back with stories worth telling. It was a no-man’s-land, a forgotten corner of land where control was lost long ago. The kind of place where people disappeared without a trace.

His mind raced, piecing it together. If the shoe had come from there... Did that mean you were there too? His stomach churned at the thought. The faint hope he had clung to started to blur with the creeping dread of what fate could have fallen upon you in the N109 Zone.

"You’re sure about that?" he asked, his voice betraying the slight anxiety creeping in around the edges. The clerk glanced up from his work, noticing the shift in Xavier’s tone.

"Yeah," the clerk said, more firmly this time. "I’m sure. That shoe—rare brand—hard to forget. The company folded years ago, but they used to operate out of the N109 Zone. Only place I’ve ever seen them sold."

Xavier swallowed hard, the words sinking deep. If the shoe came from N109, it could be a clue—a dangerous one, but still the only lead he had. He felt the urgency building inside him, a gnawing sense that time was running out, but also the undeniable question of what he might find if he went there.

Could you really be in a place like that? His mind struggled to fill in the gaps, but there were too many unknowns. Were you okay?

"I...appreciate your help," Xavier muttered, his voice thick with tension. He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to steady his breathing.

"You're not actually thinking of going there, are you?" the store clerk asked, his voice edged with disbelief as he raised an eyebrow. He leaned slightly forward over the counter, studying Xavier with a mixture of concern and amusement. "No offense, but a pretty fella like you doesn’t exactly look like the type who could survive in a place like that. Not really worth the hassle for a pair of shoes don't you think?"

Xavier paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t turn around immediately, letting the weight of the clerk’s words linger for a moment. Finally, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression calm, almost casual. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice steady, though the tension in his body remained. "I've dealt with much worse."

The clerk blinked, surprised by Xavier's calm demeanor, but said nothing more.

Xavier turned to face the door once again, his hand resting on the handle as he prepared to step out into the cold streets. "Thanks again," he added, his tone carrying a finality that didn’t invite more questions.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed open the door and walked out, leaving the shop behind. His heart pounded a little harder now, not just from the looming threat of the N109 Zone, but from the resolve building inside him. There was no turning back now.

He had a tangible clue—a real, solid lead to your whereabouts. For the first time in weeks, the haze of uncertainty lifted ever so slightly. But now that he knew you were possibly in one of the most dangerous areas anyone could imagine, time was no longer on his side. Every second that ticked by felt heavier, pulling him deeper into the urgency of the situation. The N109 Zone wasn’t just dangerous; it was a place where people vanished, a place where hope died. He had no time to waste, but rushing in blindly would be suicide. He needed a plan.

Stepping into the cold evening air, Xavier pulled the pamphlet from his jacket pocket, its crinkled edges soft from being handled. His eyes scanned over the contents carefully. Make and model—simple enough, not much help now. A detailed diagram of the shoe—useful for recognition, maybe, but not a lifeline. Then his eyes caught something else—a faint address printed near the top. It was partially worn, barely legible, but there.

His heart skipped a beat. An address? Could this be where the shoe was made? Or where it was sold? Either way, it was another piece of the puzzle, and right now, it was the closest thing to a breadcrumb trail he had. He squinted at the faded letters, trying to make out every detail.

If this address was in the N109 Zone, it could lead him right into the heart of the danger. But it could also lead him to you.

His mind raced. First, he needed to confirm the location. Then he needed a plan—something better than just walking straight into the N109 Zone and hoping for the best.

Pulling out his hunter’s watch, Xavier quickly scanned the address printed on the pamphlet. The small device whirred to life, its holographic screen flickering as it worked to process the faint, worn-out text. A soft ding echoed in the quiet street as it started searching for the location. Xavier watched the screen intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

The map on the watch blinked, the dot moving erratically across an unmarked, shadowy area. It drifted back and forth, as though even the advanced technology in his hands was confused, struggling to pin down an exact location. Xavier frowned, watching the dot jitter across the screen. His stomach tightened with frustration. Was the address too old? Was it leading him nowhere?

Just when he thought the device might give up entirely, the dot paused. The holographic screen flickered once more, and with a soft chime, it glowed green in confirmation. The hunter's watch had finally locked on to a spot. Xavier stared at it, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. The place it had marked was deep within N109 Zone, tucked away in the heart of the most dangerous, uncharted part of the city.

He exhaled slowly, his mind running through a million possibilities. The watch’s confirmation meant something tangible, something real—but what waited for him there? He couldn’t shake the thought that this could be a trap, a place where the trail might lead to nothing, or worse, to more danger than he could anticipate. But it was also the only clue he had to your whereabouts.

Xavier closed his hand around the watch, feeling its faint warmth through his fingers. He knew what he had to do, but the enormity of it settled on his shoulders. This wasn’t just a simple lead anymore—it was a beacon, calling him into the depths of the N109 Zone. And whatever waited for him there, he would face it.

Because finding you was all that mattered.

As Xavier made his way through the still, empty streets back to his apartment, the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a faint, orange glow across the sky. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan. Gear, weapons,—he’d need everything ready before venturing into the N109 Zone.

But just as he turned the corner, his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the early morning quiet. Xavier stopped, his brow furrowing as he fished the phone out of his pocket. It was a jarring sound—no one should be calling him at this early hour.

He glanced at the screen, squinting in confusion. The number was unknown, unfamiliar. His immediate thought was Captain Jenna—she was the only one who’d be up this early, possibly reaching out with new intel—but this wasn’t her number.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Unknown number. His instincts screamed caution. In his line of work, random calls at odd hours rarely led to anything good. The number could belong to anyone—a lead, a warning, or worse, a trap.

But then again, it could be something important—something connected to you. He couldn't ignore the possibility.

Should he answer? The phone rang again, and with each buzz, the knot of uncertainty in his stomach tightened. Whoever it was, they wanted to reach him badly enough to call at this ungodly hour.

With a deep breath, Xavier made a decision and swiped to answer the call. "Hello?" His voice was guarded, careful.

For a moment, all Xavier could hear was silence, a thick void that made his pulse quicken. Then, suddenly, the sound of crackling static filled his ears, distorting the line. He frowned, his grip tightening on the phone. The static grew louder, chaotic, until it was abruptly interrupted by a voice—scared, desperate, and unmistakably familiar.

"Xavier? Is that you??"

His heart nearly stopped.

You kept running until your legs gave out, your breath ragged and chest burning, but you couldn’t stop. Not yet. An hour ago, you had been trapped, bound in your captor's suffocating bedroom, that thick invisible leash tightening around your neck with each passing day, stealing your hope, your strength. Every second felt like eternity in that room, but somehow, with some luck of a power outage of all things, you’d broken out of your cage. You’d ran—bolted into the cold night without looking back.

And now, you were almost free.

But “freedom” wasn’t what you had imagined. The streets stretched out before you, bleak and lifeless. It felt wrong. There was no joy in the air, no welcoming breeze to assure you of safety—only the gnawing sense that you had escaped one cage just to enter another. You recalled something Sylus, your captor, had mentioned in passing.

"Its always 'night' here", he'd said with a small smile, and now you truly realized he hadn’t been lying.

Darkness swallowed the entire area, a thick, unnatural veil over everything. Even though your eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, the eerie, half-flickering streetlights cast only dim pools of sickly yellow across the cracked pavement. The shadows loomed, stretching too far, hiding too much. You shivered, not just from the cold but from the haunting silence that wrapped around you.

The air itself felt thick, as if it was suffocating under the weight of secrets too dark, too dangerous to be spoken aloud. Each alley you passed felt like it was watching you, whispering silent threats from the shadows. Exhaustion clung to your limbs, and you had finally stopped, collapsing onto a broken bench under one of the few flickering streetlights that still worked. The cold metal dug into your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy trying to catch your breath, to steady your thoughts.

Where do you go now? You scanned your surroundings again, looking for anything that could offer direction, but the streets were as desolate as before. The same cracked pavement, the same looming shadows. No signs. No people. Just an eerie quiet.

A fleeting thought entered your mind—maybe there’s a train station nearby? The idea seemed almost laughable. Would it even take you to Linkon? And would you even make it to a station without getting caught?

You shook your head, mentally cursing yourself for the thought. Hitchhiking was another idea that crossed your mind—no way, you scolded yourself, brushing off the notion as quickly as it came. You probably couldn't trust anyone here. Not in a place like this. Here, trusting a stranger was as reckless as running blind into the dark.

But what other choice did you have? You couldn’t stay still for long; resting too much would make you an easy target. With a deep, shuddering breath, you forced yourself to stand again. Your legs trembled beneath you, but you kept moving, hoping—praying—you’d find someone who wasn’t out to harm you. Something that could help guide you out of this nightmare. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of fear pressing harder on your chest.

As your bare feet dragged across the cracked concrete, the desperation gnawed at you more fiercely. You were lost—physically and mentally. Each street looked the same, the darkness playing tricks on your eyes. Panic swelled in your throat. How long could you keep going like this? How much longer could you walk before your legs gave out? Before someone found you?

Your breaths came quicker, shallow with fear. You needed a way out, but the deeper you walked into the N109 Zone, the more it felt like the place was swallowing you whole. You were running out of time. Running out of hope.

And then finally, as if the cruel universe had decided to grant you another fleeting moment of mercy, you saw it—a faint glow of lights in the distance. Squinting, you could just make out a corner store, its soft, artificial light spilling onto the cracked sidewalk. A few people were loitering outside, giving the place a rare sense of life. A tired-looking woman clutched her child's hand tightly, and a man stood by, lazily smoking a cigar, his eyes scanning the street in disinterest. A couple of others hovered nearby, exchanging quiet words under the dim streetlight.

You couldn't believe your eyes. A store? Here? In the N109 Zone? It seemed almost surreal, like it had been plucked from another world and dropped into this forgotten wasteland. But it made sense in a grim way. Even in a place like this, people have to eat. Make a living.

With a rush of desperate energy, you hurried toward the store, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The people outside cast looks in your direction, but don't say anything. You stopped just short of the entrance, glancing down at yourself for the first time. You must look insane. A nightgown hung loosely around your body, dirty and torn at the edges. No shoes. No socks. Your hair was tangled and wild from the running. The sight of yourself made you wince in embarrassment, but there was no time to care about that now.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by a dimly lit but surprisingly ordinary scene. The inside of the corner store looked like any other—aisles of candy, snacks, cheap knick knacks and toys stacked high. It was a stark contrast to the dangerous, shadowy streets just outside. But one sight caught your attention above all: the food.

Your stomach growled loudly, twisting with hunger. You hadn’t eaten since the chicken dinner Sylus had provided before your “outburst.” You hadn't been able to finish it, and now the exhaustion from running had made the hunger almost unbearable. Your mouth watered at the thought of eating, but there was one major problem—you had no gold.

Your heart sank as you stared at the rows of candy bars and instant noodles. How were you going to get anything?

Anxiously, you shuffled toward the front counter, your nerves jangling with every step. When you reached it, you hesitated for a moment, staring at the small bell. With trembling fingers, you tapped it.

A disheveled-looking man, his hair sticking out in uneven tufts, glanced up from behind the counter. He had been glued to his phone, and the interruption clearly annoyed him. His eyes landed on you, and for a brief second, he just stared, taking in your disarrayed appearance before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Can I...help you?" he asked, dragging out the words as if the very act of speaking was a burden.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but your mind raced with too many conflicting emotions—fear, embarrassment, hunger. What could you even say?

"I've been kidnapped," you blurt out, your voice shaky and desperate. You opened your mouth to explain further, to tell him everything—how you had escaped, how you were on the run, how you needed help—but before you could get another word out, the man snorted.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," he said dismissively, leaning back on his chair with an exaggerated sigh. "Who hasn't been kidnapped at least once around here?"

His casual tone hit you like a slap. The raw urgency in your voice was met with nothing but apathy. Your heart sank. He wasn’t going to take you seriously. You were just another story in a place like this, another desperate face with nowhere to go. You stood there, frozen, trying to comprehend how someone could be so indifferent to your situation.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the frustration welling up inside you. "Please, I'm serious. I just need—"

"Look," the man interrupted, cutting you off again, his eyes barely lifting from his phone. "You want something, buy it. Otherwise, move along. I’m not here for charity cases."

You glanced at the counter, the rows of candy, snacks, and drinks just inches away, knowing you had nothing to pay with. Desperation clawed at your insides. You were exhausted, starving, and running out of options.

"I don't have any gold... do you ha-have a phone?" you asked again, your voice trembling as you blinked back the hot tears threatening to spill. How could someone be so indifferent to the obvious suffering staring him in the face?

"Broken," he said flatly, still not bothering to look up from his phone. His disinterest was like a physical blow. "And… gold? What are you, some Linkcunt citizen?"

The venom in his words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Linkcunt citizen? The insult was harsh, dripping with disdain, and it sent a sudden wave of anger rushing through you.

"Yes, I’m from Linkon," you correct, the frustration and fear bubbling over into your voice. "What’s with the attitude? What did I do to you? I'm asking for help!"

He finally looked up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t friendly. It was mocking.

"What did you do? Nothing. That’s the problem. Linkon folk come down here thinking they’re better than everyone, tossing around their fancy gold and expecting the world to hand them everything." He shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt.

"You want help? Then you’d better figure out how things work around here real fast, princess. No one's gonna hand you anything for free."

You felt your fists clench at his words, the anger mixing with a deeper sense of helplessness. You hadn’t asked to be here. You hadn’t asked for any of this. And yet, standing in this grimy corner store in the depths of the N109 Zone, it was clear that no one cared about your suffering. Not here. You weren’t in Linkon anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to calm down, swallowing the anger rising in your throat. Getting into a fight with this clerk wouldn’t help you, not now. But the bitterness of his words lingered, and you realized just how alone you truly were in this place.

Silently, you turned your back to the greasy man behind the counter, his words still echoing in your mind as you began to walk up and down the aisles. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion pulling at you. Your stomach growled, gnawing at your insides, reminding you just how long it had been since you'd eaten.

But something else gnawed at you too—something that made your skin crawl with discomfort. You hadn't changed your pad for hours, and now the sticky, damp feeling clung uncomfortably between your legs. The sudden realization hit you, a wave of disgust washing over you as you winced.

Swallowing hard, you glanced over toward the feminine hygiene aisle. Rows of necessities lined the shelves—pads, tampons, basic supplies—just out of reach. You stared at them, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't just food you needed now. You couldn’t go on like this.

But you had no credit cards. No way to purchase anything. Nothing.

Your eyes flicked back toward the front of the store, where the disinterested clerk sat, still engrossed in his phone. He wasn’t paying attention to you. He didn’t care. Nobody here did.

You felt a knot tighten in your throat as the harsh reality of the situation settled in. You had to steal. There was no other choice. You hated the thought of it—hated how low it made you feel—but survival wasn’t a matter of pride. Not here. Not now.

Your fingers trembled as you looked back at the shelves. You knew what you had to do.

The clerk still wasn’t paying attention, his face lit by the glow of his phone. His indifference might be your only saving grace. You could do this—quickly, quietly, and then you’d be gone.

With shaky hands you reach for a plastic bag that had fallen on the ground. The bag felt like a shield, something to hide the weight of what you were about to do. You didn’t think twice as you moved toward the feminine hygiene aisle, knowing you couldn’t walk any further in your current state. You reached for a pack of pads, your movements slow and deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that it felt like the entire store could hear it.

Next, you hurried down the snack aisle, grabbing a few protein bars, a small bag of chips, and a bottle of water, all of which disappeared into the bag as your pulse raced in your ears.

You glanced toward the counter, your body tense with anxiety. The clerk still hadn’t looked up, completely absorbed in his phone. The faint, unmistakable sound of pornography drifted from his speakers, making your stomach churn in disgust. You twisted your face, feeling a wave of revulsion wash over you, but you couldn’t afford to stop now.

He was utterly oblivious to your frantic movements, his attention locked on the screen, but that didn't ease the gnawing sensation in your gut. Every step felt like you were tiptoeing across a minefield, a ticking clock counting down to disaster. Even though he wasn’t watching, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was.

With the bag now heavy in your hands, you made your way toward the exit, each step carefully measured, your breath shallow as you fought to keep calm. The distance between you and the door seemed endless, as if every inch stretched into miles. But finally, your trembling hand closed around the cold metal of the handle.

Your heart raced as you crossed the threshold, bracing yourself for the inevitable—a shrill, deafening alarm that would shatter the silence and expose your crime to the world. You waited for it, your breath caught in your throat, ready to bolt at the first sound.

But nothing came.

No alarm. No piercing siren. The only thing you could hear was the frantic beating of your own heart as the door swung shut behind you with a quiet click.

For a moment, you stood there, frozen in place, not daring to move. The cool night air brushed against your skin, grounding you in the eerie quiet. The world outside the store felt impossibly still. It took a few seconds for your brain to register that you had made it out—unseen, unheard.

You swallowed hard, keeping your head down as you hurried past the few patrons lingering near the store. Their eyes followed your every step, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you, judging, curious. Did they happen to care, or did you just look that insane?

The woman with the child pulled her daughter closer as you passed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The man smoking his cigar gave you a long, leering stare, as if trying to figure out what your story was. The others whispered quietly among themselves, but you couldn’t make out the words, nor did you want to. You kept walking, willing yourself to be invisible, but the tension in the air made your skin prickle.

Once you were a safe distance away from the store, you ducked down an empty alley, the shadows wrapping around you like a cloak. The world outside was still bleak, the flickering streetlights casting only the faintest glow, but here in the quiet, you finally had a moment to breathe.

You found a relatively clean spot, tucked behind an old dumpster, and set the bag down beside you. Your hands shook as you reached into the bag for the pack of pads. The discomfort and itch between your legs had grown unbearable, and the relief of changing, even in such a grim place, was something you couldn't put off any longer.

Quickly, you adjusted yourself, wincing at the feeling of the old pad peeling away. You worked fast, knowing you couldn’t linger here for long. Once you were done, you felt a small sense of relief—at least one problem had been solved.

Next, you pulled out the snacks. The hunger was still clawing at you, and the sight of the protein bars and chips made your stomach ache even more. Tearing into a protein bar, you ate quickly, barely tasting the food as you devoured it, desperate to fuel your exhausted body. The bottle of water came next, and you drank it down in large, gulping swallows.

For the first time since you had escaped, you felt a flicker of calm. It wasn’t much, and it wouldn’t last, but here in this dark corner, with food in your stomach and a small bit of comfort, you allowed yourself a brief moment to breathe.

But the quiet didn’t last. You knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. You had to get moving at some point or Sylus would find you. This place was unforgiving, and survival demanded more than just temporary refuge.

Tucking the remaining items back into the bag, you sigh in satisfaction, glancing around to make sure no one had followed you. The streets were still empty. For now, you were alone. You had survived one more step in this nightmare, but you knew it wasn’t over yet.

Some time passes and you can slowly feel yourself falling asleep against the dumpster.

As you crouched in the dim alley, trying to fight off exhaustion and gather your thoughts, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Slow, steady, and casual, accompanied by a faint, off-key whistling. You stiffened, instinctively pulling the bag closer to your chest.

The footsteps stopped just a few feet away, and then came the voice—low, cautious, but curious.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up warily, your eyes landing on the figure standing at the mouth of the alley. He was tall, maybe in his mid-thirties, with shaggy, unkempt brown hair that fell just above his eyes. His clothes were worn—faded jeans and a jacket that had seen better days—but he didn’t look like the rough types you usually imagined when you thought of the N109 Zone. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but his sharp, dark eyes were fixed on you, a flicker of concern—or maybe something else—dancing behind them.

His face was hard to read. He had a slight stubble covering his jaw, giving him a rugged, almost tired appearance. His lips quirked in what might’ve been a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you—like he was curious, but also sizing you up. Not in an aggressive way, but in a way that made you wonder why he’d stopped to talk to you at all.

"Are you... lost?" he asked, stepping forward slowly, the whistling tune dying in the air. His voice was softer now, almost as if he was trying to be gentle, but his presence made the space around you feel even smaller.

"What happened to your arm?"

You swallowed hard, trying your best to keep your gaze on him. You had honestly completely forgotten about the scar on you arm. As much as you wanted to explain, every instinct screamed to stay wary. This wasn’t a place where strangers helped out of kindness, and you knew better than to trust easily. But as exhausted and desperate as you were, you weren’t sure if you could afford to push away help, even from someone who might have their own agenda.

"I—I need help," you stammered, your voice shaky, barely managing to push the words past your tightening throat. Your body trembled, a mix of nerves and exhaustion leaving you on edge. You hugged the bag tighter to your chest, every muscle in your body tense. "But... don't come any closer just yet."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shifting, though he made no move forward. He stayed where he was, his hands still in his pockets, the dim streetlight casting long shadows on his face. For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with tension as he watched you.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice calm and even, though the curiosity in his eyes never wavered. He tilted his head, taking in your ragged appearance with a deeper interest. "No problem. I’m not here to scare you. Just trying to figure out what you're doing out here all alone."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. You needed help, but trust was a dangerous thing in a place like this. Still, you were running out of options. Your mind raced as you tried to decide what to say next.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you weighed the risks. Could you trust him? Telling the truth might make you vulnerable, but lying wouldn’t get you far either. You had to say something—anything—to explain why you were here.

"I was kidnapped," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, a tremor of fear running through you as you spoke. "I escaped… I don’t know where I am. I just need to get somewhere safe and rest so I can get home later."

The man’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He studied you, eyes narrowing as if trying to assess whether or not you were telling the truth. His silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, making your heart pound faster in your chest.

"You’re serious?" he finally asked, his tone more subdued now, almost disbelieving but not dismissive. He took a small step back, showing that he wasn’t going to invade your space. "You really got away from someone?"

You nodded, the tension in your body still coiled tight, waiting for his reaction. You couldn't tell if he believed you, but you hoped—desperately—that he wouldn’t press too hard or turn you away.

The man stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning your face, as if trying to read the truth in your expression. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his posture softening just slightly.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but firm. "If you're telling the truth... then you’ve got bigger problems than just being lost."

He glanced around, checking the street behind him as if making sure no one else was nearby, then he looked back at you, his face more serious now. "You can’t stay out here. This place— the N109 Zone—it’s not somewhere you want to be wandering around alone, especially if someone’s looking for you."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. You already knew the N109 Zone was dangerous, but hearing it from him made it feel even more real.

"Look," he continued, his voice softening. "I’m not gonna hurt you. If you need help, I can take you somewhere safer. But you’ve gotta trust me, and you’ve gotta move quick. If they’re after you, it’s only a matter of time before they find you out here."

He waited, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to see if you’d accept his offer—or run.

You hesitated for a long moment, scanning the man’s face for any sign of deceit. His expression was calm, almost unnervingly so, but something about his demeanor made you feel that, for now, you didn’t have much of a choice. If he meant harm, he could’ve acted already. Swallowing hard, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ll come with you.”

He nodded in return, offering nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment before turning and motioning for you to follow. "My place isn’t far. You can rest there, maybe clean up a bit. It’ll give you a few hours before you have to figure out what’s next."

You fell in step behind him, your bare feet quiet against the cracked pavement. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant hum of passing cars. You hugged the bag closer to your chest, still tense but too tired to think about running. As you walked through the dim streets, a question lingered in the back of your mind.

"I'm surprised you stopped to help me," you finally said, your voice tentative. "Most people here…they wouldn’t have even looked twice."

He glanced back at you, barely breaking stride, and shrugged. "I’ve seen worse things in this place. Trust me, a girl lost in an alley isn't the strangest thing I’ve come across." His tone was casual, almost detached, as if this was just another day in the chaotic world of the N109 Zone.

His nonchalance unnerved you. Why was he so calm? Your anxiety spiked for a moment, thoughts racing. Maybe you had made the wrong choice. Maybe he had his own agenda, like everyone else in this place. But then again, he hadn’t tried to harm you. If he wanted to, he would've done so. You weighed your options, feeling the tug of paranoia, but exhaustion and desperation had their hold. You pushed the doubt aside. For now, you decided to trust him, even if only for a few hours.

As you walked in silence, the two of you eventually came across something you hadn’t expected to see: an old, grimy phone booth, its glass cracked but still intact, standing at the edge of a corner. A relic from another time, long since forgotten by most.

Your heart skipped a beat. A phone. You might be able to call Xavier.

"Do you have any… uh, quarters?" you asked, your voice tight with desperation. You hadn’t thought about it before, but now it seemed obvious. Linkon City had long left behind the need for such old currency—everything there was digital, clean, modern. But here, in the N109 Zone, where everything felt stuck in time, of course they still used quarters. It made sense in this broken-down world.

He stopped, watching you for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, hang on." He fumbled in his pockets for a few seconds, fishing around with a slight look of annoyance. After a bit of clattering, he pulled out a few quarters, handing them over to you without a word.

Your hands trembled as you took them. This could be your chance—your lifeline. You stepped inside the booth, hoping that the old machine would still work, and stared at the dirty receiver.

You stared at the old rotary dial for a moment, panic rising in your chest. You tried to remember how it worked as you slipped the coins in the slot. It had been so long since you’d read about one of these—everything in Linkon was sleek, touch-based, connected by the web. But here, in this forgotten part of the world, you were holding a piece of the past. The process felt foreign, archaic.

Your mind raced, desperately trying to recall Xavier’s number. What was it? You racked your brain, images of his scribbled phone number from messages, fragments of conversations, all blurred together. The numbers danced in your head as you tried to piece them together.

Your heart pounded louder, matching the beat of the seconds slipping away. You were running out of time. With a trembling hand, you began dialing the numbers, trying to focus on every movement, praying you’d gotten it right.

The dial clicked as it spun back after each number, the mechanical sound unnervingly slow. The receiver crackled in your ear as the phone began to ring.

Please, Xavier... please pick up.

The ringing felt endless, each second a heavier weight pressing on your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the receiver tight. The noise around you seemed to fade into the background as you waited, hoping, praying that on the other end of the line, he’d be there—ready to hear you, ready to help.

The phone rang again... and again.

Your breath caught in your throat, a prayer hanging on the edge of each ring.

"Hello?" A timid, cautious male voice came through the receiver, muffled by the crackling static, but it was unmistakable.

Relief crashed over you like a wave, and you nearly collapsed right there in the grimy phone booth, your knees buckling as the sound of Xavier's voice reached your ears. After everything—you finally had a connection to him. Tears welled up in your eyes, your breath shaky as you clutched the receiver tighter.

"Xavier!! Xavier, thank god!" you cried, your voice raw with desperation. "I don't even know where to start..."

But after your outburst, only silence greeted you. The line crackled, sputtering with age, the static drowning out whatever response might have come. Frustration surged through you as you gripped the receiver, shaking it in a vain attempt to clear the line. You banged the phone against the booth, biting back a sob as the interference persisted. This thing must be older than you thought. How could it fail you now?

Finally, the crackling stopped, leaving only a tense, quiet hum on the other end.

"Xavier? Is that you??" you asked, your voice trembling, barely holding back the panic. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing this fragile connection—this one thin lifeline.

The line crackled for a moment before Xavier’s voice came through, steady and calm, but with a layer of unmistakable relief.

"It’s you…," Xavier said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d been holding onto hope for so long that hearing your voice felt like a lifeline. "I’m so glad you’re alive. Are you okay? Where are you?"

The sound of his voice sent another wave of emotion crashing over you. You sob, your body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t alone. He had been looking for you, and now, he was coming.

"Xavier…I was kidnapped," you sobbed, the words finally breaking free, the fear and terror of the last few days pouring out. "I escaped. I’m cold, hurt and scared..."

His response was immediate, his tone both calming and steady, as if he was trying to comfort you even from miles away. "I’m here now. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? I’m coming for you. I just need a better idea of where you are."

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep it together, but the tears threatened to spill over. "I don’t know where exactly… all I know is I’m in the N109 Zone. I found a phone booth near a corner store. Everything around here looks abandoned."

There was a brief pause on the other end as Xavier processed the information. "Alright," he said firmly. "Stay there, I'll try and track the location of the phone booth. I’m on my way. Just… hold on a little longer, okay?"

"I—" you hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the man who had helped you. "I actually found a really nice man. He’s letting me rest at his place. He hasn’t hurt me at all, so don’t worry. He says his place isn’t far from here. I’ll come back to the phone and give you the details after I see it."

Xavier’s voice tightened slightly, the concern clear. "I don’t like the sound of that. Just… be careful. I’m coming as fast as I can. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, alright? If anything feels wrong, leave. Fight like hell if you need to."

"I will," you whispered, gripping the receiver tightly. "Just hurry, please."

"I promise I’m coming," Xavier said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He paused, just for a second, before continuing. "One more thing though—do you remember who took you? I’ll need a name, in case…in case I don't find you when I arrive. I don’t want to lose you again."

Your heart raced as memories of your captor flashed in your mind. "Yeah! His name is S—"

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for an additional 3 minutes," the automated voice cut in sharply, drowning out your words.

Panic surged through you. The call had abruptly ended, the receiver in your hand now silent except for the monotonous prompt asking for more coins. You frantically searched your pockets, but you had no more quarters.

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for—"

You screamed, the frustration boiling over as you kicked the phone, the clanging metal reverberating through the phone booth. Your hand gripped the receiver so tightly your knuckles lost circulation, and with a final surge of anger, you thrashed against the booth, the tears you’d been holding back now streaming down your face.

"Xavier!?" you yelled into the dead line, your voice cracking with desperation. He had to hear you. He had to. But all that came through was the cold, indifferent tone of the automated voice, endlessly repeating its demand for more quarters, as if mocking your panic.

You slammed the receiver down, the booth suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Every second that ticked by was a second lost, a moment Xavier might not know who had taken you, might not know how to find you.

With a deep, shaky breath, you stepped out of the booth, blinking away the tears.

"Do...you have any more quarters?" you ask, tears threatening to spill from your face at any moment now.

The man outside the phone booth shifted awkwardly and shook his head, his eyes flickering between you and the dark street. He had watched you from the moment you’d rushed into the booth, but now, as you sobbed, his discomfort was clear. He took a slow step forward, clearing his throat, but didn’t say anything at first, unsure of what to do.

"You, uh... you okay?" he asked finally, his voice soft but uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing around as if he wasn’t used to being in such an emotional situation.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to calm your breathing, but the tears kept coming. The overwhelming frustration of losing the connection with Xavier left you feeling exposed and helpless. You didn’t know what to say to the man, couldn’t find the words to explain the weight of everything crashing down on you at once.

He hesitated, then sighed, taking another step closer. "Look, uh… if it’s about the call, I’m sure your guy’s coming. Sounds like he cares. You just... you know, gotta hang in there. We’ll get to my place soon, and you can rest."

His words, though clumsy, were an attempt at comfort. But even as he tried to reassure you, his uncertainty showed in the way he avoided your gaze, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle someone breaking down in front of him.

You sniffed, nodding slightly, feeling drained from the outburst. "Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine," you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your nightgown, though you weren’t sure you believed it.

The two of you resumed walking, your steps slow and heavy as you sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that still threatened to spill. The man walked beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets, glancing at you now and then with an awkwardness that was hard to miss. He wasn’t saying much, just occasionally looking around as if he wished there was something more he could do, but he seemed completely out of his depth when it came to comforting anyone, let alone a woman on the verge of breaking down.

"You’ll, uh, feel better once we get there," he mumbled, his voice low and sheepish. "It’s not much, but at least you can get some sleep. Maybe eat something."

You nodded, biting your lip as you fought to compose yourself, trying not to let your emotions overwhelm you again. The air between you felt thick, filled with unspoken words and awkward tension. He kept glancing at you as if he wanted to say something more, but each time, he swallowed the words, guiding you quietly through the darkened streets.

The city around you was eerily quiet, the desolation of the N109 Zone even more pronounced in the silence. The flickering streetlights barely illuminated your path, casting long shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement. You hugged your arms close to your body, your mind still reeling from the failed call, but you focused on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The man cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "I’m… not really good at this kind of thing, you know," he admitted, his tone awkward, almost apologetic. "But you’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it."

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak. His words were clumsy, but there was a strange sincerity in them. Despite his unease, it seemed like he really was trying to help, even if he didn’t quite know how to do it.

As the silence stretched on, the weight of everything hanging between you, you glanced at him through the dim light. His awkwardness, his uncertainty—it was all so clear. But despite everything, he had helped you. He had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go. Given you the last of his quarters. You swallowed, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

"I didn’t catch your name, by the way," you said softly, your voice still a little shaky.

He blinked, as if surprised you’d asked. His steps slowed for a moment before he gave a small, awkward shrug. "Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t say." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the ground as he seemed to search for the right words. "It’s Reese," he finally muttered. "Not much of a name, but it’s mine."

You offered a small, tired smile, your voice soft. "Reese… thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—" You stopped yourself, the weight of your situation pressing on your chest again.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah, well… I’m no hero. Just didn’t seem right to leave you out there. Not in a place like this."

As the two of you walked in silence, Reese cleared his throat, glancing over at you with a bit more confidence than before. "So… what’s your name? Figured if we’re gonna be walking together, I should know who I’m helping."

You hesitated, your heart racing slightly. Trust wasn’t something you could afford so easily, not here, not now. Despite his awkward attempts to help, you weren’t ready to give him your real name. Better to be cautious, you reminded yourself. You forced a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

"It’s...Mephisto," you said, the lie rolling off your tongue before you could second-guess it. You had vaguely remembered Sylus calling out the name to someone from outside the door, to who you weren't sure. One of his men probably.

Reese nodded, seemingly taking your answer at face value, no suspicion in his expression. "Alright," he said, giving a half-smile. "Nice to meet you Miss Mephisto, despite the strange name."

You nodded back, feeling the weight of the lie settle inside you. It wasn’t much, but it gave you a small layer of protection—just in case. You still didn’t know Reese’s full intentions, and trust here could be a dangerous thing.

"Nice to meet you too, Reese," you replied softly, glancing around the darkened street.

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the dark, desolate streets of the N109 Zone, you and Reese finally reached his place. The house stood at the end of a narrow alley, tucked between two crumbling, abandoned buildings. It wasn’t much to look at—dingy, with peeling paint and windows that seemed to have long lost their clarity. The front door sagged slightly on its hinges, the wood scuffed and weathered, as if it had seen better days a long time ago.

Reese unlocked the door with a bit of effort, pushing it open with a low creak. Inside, the air was stale but warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The place was small, cluttered, and dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. The furnishings were old, mismatched, and worn—a threadbare couch sat in the corner, covered in a faded blanket. The walls were bare except for a few crooked picture frames, and the carpet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Still, despite its grimy appearance, there was a strange sense of comfort to the place, like someone had lived here for a long time and had made it home in their own way.

"You can sit over there if you want," Reese said, motioning to the couch. "It’s not much, but it’s better than the streets."

You nodded, stepping inside cautiously. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details—the scuffed coffee table with a few empty bottles on it, the stack of old magazines piled up against one wall. It didn’t scream danger, but you couldn’t shake the wary feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Something about the whole situation made you uneasy. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the smell of old dust, or just the lingering doubt about trusting someone so easily in a place like this.

Still, exhaustion weighed heavily on your body, and the promise of rest—any rest—was too tempting to ignore. You sat down on the couch, the worn cushions sinking under you, and pulled the bag of pads closer to your chest. Reese seemed harmless enough, but you reminded yourself to stay on guard. You weren’t out of danger yet.

Reese busied himself, tossing a few items around to clear space, but the house remained eerily quiet.

As you settled into the couch, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible, a sudden noise from the backyard broke the uneasy silence. It was faint, but distinct—a thud, followed by the faint sound of something shuffling or dragging. Your heart leapt, and you sat up a little straighter, your eyes darting toward the back of the house.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice tense as you turned to look at Reese.

He froze for a split second, the calm, awkward demeanor you’d come to expect from him faltering. His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that?" he said, his voice higher than usual. "It’s just… my dog. Yeah, he’s in the shed out back. I forgot to mention him earlier."

You watched him closely, feeling the tension spike in the room. There was something off about the way he said it, the quickness in his tone as if he were scrambling to come up with an explanation.

"Your dog?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady, though doubt gnawed at the back of your mind.

"Yeah," he said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "He’s old, doesn’t like people much, so I keep him out there. No big deal."

His words didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing his response, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. The uneasy feeling from earlier returned, stronger this time, creeping up your spine.

"Right," you muttered, still watching him carefully, but you decided not to push further. Not yet.

"Um... coffee?" Reese blurted out suddenly, his voice still laced with that nervous edge. He offered a forced smile, clearly trying to redirect the tension hanging thick in the air. He rubbed his hands together, glancing toward the small, cluttered kitchen. "I could make us some. Might help, you know, after everything you’ve been through."

You hesitated, still on edge from the strange noise outside and his quick, jittery explanation. Something didn’t feel right, but you weren’t sure if pushing him now would help or only make things worse. You forced a smile of your own, your mind still racing with questions.

"Sure," you said quietly, your voice flat as you tried to calm your nerves. "Coffee sounds good."

Reese nodded, too eagerly, and moved toward the kitchen, fumbling with an old coffee pot. The clattering of cups and the rush of water filled the silence, but your mind was still focused on that noise outside. A dog in the shed? It seemed like a weak excuse, but you didn’t know him well enough to push it.

You leaned back into the couch, the worn fabric sinking beneath you as your eyes drifted toward the back door. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe Reese wasn’t telling you everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. You were exhausted, but you couldn't let your guard down.

Reese finished brewing the coffee after a few moments, bringing it over to you in a green, cracked mug. You took it from him with a polite smile, setting it down on the coffee table untouched. The steam curled up from the cup, filling the small room with the faint scent of stale coffee. Reese sat across from you, sipping from his own mug, but you couldn’t help but notice how distracted he seemed.

He kept glancing toward the window, then back at his watch, over and over. Each time, his face tensed a little more, as though he were expecting something—or someone. Your wariness only grew.

What is he looking for?

The air felt thick with unspoken tension, and your mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the noise in the backyard wasn’t as innocent as he’d made it sound.

"So…uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert.

"Dog? What dog?" Reese said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question.

"You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence, and then you saw it—realization hit him like a brick. His eyes widened as he turned to look at you, panic flickering across his face.

You sat up straighter, your heart starting to race. He’d lied. And now he knew you knew.

"Uh, I mean—" he stammered, his voice shaky, "I meant, uh, Rex. Yeah, his name’s Rex. Sorry, I’m just… distracted." He forced a weak smile, but the panic was still there, clear as day. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room thickening with every second that passed after Reese's panicked slip. His eyes kept darting between you and the window, as if something outside demanded his attention. Your pulse quickened as the uneasy feeling deepened. Something wasn’t right, and you knew you had to get out of there.

"I should…go," you said, forcing a smile as you slowly stood up, trying to keep your voice casual. "Y'know... Xavier’s probably found the phone booth by now. I should go back and meet him."

Reese blinked, his expression tightening for a split second. The forced calm he'd been trying to maintain wavered as he set his mug down on the table a little too quickly, the clink of the ceramic against wood echoing in the silence. "Go? Already?" He scratched the back of his neck again, his voice strained. "I mean, it’s cold, and it’s not safe out there… Maybe you should wait a little longer."

You swallowed hard, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. Every instinct told you to get out, but you had to keep your cool. "Thanks for the coffee and everything, but I don’t want Xavier to worry," you replied, taking a step toward the door. "I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse, remember?"

Reese stood up as well, his movements stiff, like he was trying to decide whether to stop you. His gaze flickered toward the window again, and his voice dropped. "Yeah, I get it. But, uh… maybe just a few more minutes. You don’t want to be out there alone, do you?"

You glanced toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The unease that had been lurking beneath the surface now felt like a solid weight pressing down on you. Something was very wrong, and you needed to leave—now.

"No, I’m leaving. Thank you for everything, but I need to go," you said, your voice steady despite the panic bubbling under the surface. You tried to move past Reese, your eyes focused on the door, your heart pounding with the hope of reaching it before things got worse.

But then Reese stepped in front of you, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. "No," he said flatly, his voice suddenly devoid of the awkwardness and sheepishness he’d shown before. His tone was cold, almost emotionless, as he closed the distance between you with startling speed.

Before you could react, you felt it—the cold press of metal against your neck. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body froze as the unmistakable sensation of a gun pressed hard into your skin.

"You're not going anywhere," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. His earlier nervousness was completely gone, replaced by something dark and dangerous. "Sit back down."

Your heart raced, your mind scrambling for a way out, but all you could feel was the sharp edge of fear coursing through you. You swallowed hard, trying not to move too quickly, knowing that with one wrong step, things could spiral even further out of control.

"Reese… please," you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from shaking. "You don’t have to do this."

His eyes flickered with something—anger, desperation—but his grip on the gun didn’t waver. "Just sit down, and no one has to get hurt."

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but for now, all you could do was comply and hope that Xavier was still coming for you.

"I promised them a girl..." Reese muttered, his voice trembling slightly, though the gun still pressed firmly against your neck as you looked up at him from the couch. He glanced away from you, his guilt briefly flickering in his eyes. "Then you just... happened to be there. Right place, wrong time, I guess. So...this is how it has to be."

His words hung in the air, cold and final.

"I’m sorry," he added, though there was no comfort in his apology—just a hollow attempt at easing his own conscience.

Your breath hitched as you tried to process his words, the full weight of the situation crushing down on you. He wasn’t just some awkward guy helping you out of kindness. He had been waiting for someone—anyone—to fill a promise. And you had walked right into it.

As you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, the cold barrel of the gun pressed against your neck, the door creaked open. Another man stepped into the room. He was taller than Reese, with a thick, rough appearance—his face shadowed by the dim light. His eyes swept the room, landing on you, taking in the situation with a detached indifference.

"Is this the girl you promised?" the man asked, his voice low and gruff, as if he’d been through this kind of scene too many times to be surprised by it. His gaze shifted briefly to Reese, then back to you, narrowing with interest.

You felt a chill run down your spine as his question hung in the air.

Reese didn’t move the gun from your neck, but you could feel the tension in his body shift as he glanced over at the man, clearly nervous about his arrival. "Yeah, this is her," Reese replied, his voice tight. "I just… need a few more minutes to get her to cooperate."

The other man stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor. His eyes raked over you, cold and calculating. "No time for that," he said flatly. "Get her in the basement. You know how this works, Reese."

Your pulse quickened, fear gripping you tighter as you looked from one man to the other, your mind spinning with panic. What were they planning? You needed to find a way out, and fast, before things escalated even further.

"You’re making a mistake," you said, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. "Someone’s coming for me. If you don’t let me go, it’s going to get a lot worse for both of you."

As the weight of your words hung in the air, you weren’t even sure who you were referring to in that moment—Sylus, the man who had kidnapped you in the first place, or Xavier, the one coming to save you. Both names were tangled up in your desperation, your mind too frantic to distinguish between them. All you could do was hope that the threat would ring true, that it would be enough to make Reese think twice.

The taller man smirked, clearly unimpressed. "We’ll see about that," he muttered, turning his back toward the door to pull up the carpet, leaving you alone with Reese and the gun still pressed to your neck. You watch as a metal trap door with a handle is revealed to have been hidden under the carpet and you gasp.

Instinct kicked in, and without thinking, you twisted suddenly, using the brief distraction in Reese’s hesitation to try and break free. You shoved his arm away with everything you had, knocking the gun off balance. For a moment, you thought you had a chance, adrenaline flooding your body as you fought with all the strength you could muster.

"Let go of me!" you screamed, thrashing and kicking as hard as you could. Your elbow connected with Reese's side, and he let out a sharp grunt, but his grip tightened. His face twisted in a mixture of frustration and fear, and he fought back, grabbing your arm and wrenching you toward him.

"Stop it!" Reese growled, struggling to maintain control, but you weren’t going down without a fight. You kicked at his legs, but his hold on you only grew stronger.

The door to the basement creaked open, and before you could react, the taller man reappeared, grabbing you by the other arm. His grip was like iron, and between the two of them, they overpowered you. Your heart pounded as you screamed and clawed, your feet scraping against the floor, but the force of their combined strength was too much.

"No! Please—" you gasped, trying to twist free, but they dragged you toward the open door.

The tall man grunted with effort as they forced you toward the dark, looming stairwell. "Get her down there already," he growled, his tone sharp and impatient.

You struggled even harder, but your muscles were weakening, the adrenaline starting to fade as fear took over. They shoved you roughly down the narrow staircase, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the damp wall. The dimness of the basement swallowed you whole, the air cold and musty. You could feel the fear wrapping around you, tighter with each step they forced you to take.

The taller man was close behind, his heavy footsteps echoing in the cold, damp basement. You felt his rough hand grab the bottom of your nightgown, his fingers curling into the fabric. Panic surged through you as his cold hand snaked across your belly, the touch sending a shiver of disgust up your spine.

You screamed, thrashing wildly against his grip, but his strength overpowered you. The man leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Wouldn't hurt to try her out before the boss gets here..." His voice was thick with lust, and his eyes gleamed with a hunger that turned your stomach.

His hand slid lower, his fingers beginning to snake inside your underwear. You could feel his hard on pressed against your backside. Fear and revulsion took over, and you knew you had to do something—anything—to stop him.

Thinking fast, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, your voice desperate and shaking. "I'm bleeding! I'm on my period!"

The words seemed to stop him in his tracks. His hand paused, the twisted hunger in his eyes faltering for a moment as confusion flickered across his face.

"You’re what?" he muttered, his brow furrowing. His grip loosened just slightly, enough for you to take a sharp breath, your heart still racing.

"I’m on my period," you repeated, your voice trembling. "It’s—it’s bad. You don’t want to do this right now."

For a brief second, his disgusted expression told you that he was weighing his options. The thought of period blood clearly repulsed him, and his hand slowly pulled away from your underwear, his lips curling in frustration.

"You’re lucky," he growled, wiping his hand on his pants, his face twisted with disdain. "But don’t think that saves you."

His hand shot up before you could react, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging you across the rough concrete floor toward the makeshift shower installed in the corner of the basement. Your scalp throbbed with each pull, the pain sharpening with every step, but you bit your lip, refusing to cry out.

He threw you against the cold, damp wall, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You barely had time to catch your breath before he twisted the rusty shower handle. Water burst from the nozzle, freezing and unforgiving.

“So filthy,” he sneered, standing over you as the icy water soaked your clothes, plastering them to your skin. “Maybe this will help?"

The cold bit into your bones, and you hugged yourself, trembling, struggling to stay upright as the water pounded down. He stood there a moment longer, watching with twisted satisfaction, before finally turning away, leaving you shivering on the cold, wet floor of the basement.

Sobbing on the cold, unforgiving basement floor, you shiver, your body pressed against the damp concrete, each breath heavy with despair. The chill seeps into your skin, a numbing cold that echoes the hollow ache inside you. Your tears fall, silent and unnoticed, merging with the grime beneath you as exhaustion pulls you deeper into its grip. In the silence, a desperate wish slips through your mind for someone to save you—anyone, even him.

Though Sylus had stolen you away, his presence now haunts you like a ghost. In this unbearable solitude, even the memory of him feels like a twisted solace. You long for his shadow, for those red, gleaming eyes that once pierced through the darkness, and his stark white hair, a glimmer against the void.

At least he gave you warm baths.

The thought slips through your mind, shame twisting in your chest. How could you even think of Sylus now, when poor Xavier was likely out there, rushing to save you, unaware of the torment you’re enduring? Guilt coils around you, tightening with every heartbeat, yet you can’t shake the cruel comfort of that memory. Sylus, for all the wrong he had done, had never left you to freeze, never left you to shiver and break alone.

Your vision blurs as the weight of everything crushes you, and you can almost see him—an apparition of salvation in your mind. His image flickers, vivid and sharp, as your consciousness begins to fray at the edges. The world slips away, piece by piece, and the cold wraps tighter around you.

The cold water finally stops.

In this fading moment, you cling to that impossible hope, that he, with his red eyes and cold hands, might come for you—if only to save you from a fate worse than death.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP: Dog Walker

Danny needs someone to walk his dog.

He had been in Gotham for about five months when it became apparent he needed companionship.

Ever since Clockwork and Frostbite came to the same decision to move Danny to a new universe for his health- his core was deteriorating due to his obsession being fulfilled as Amity Park was safe, and everyone was ready to grow up and move on.

So Danny moved to a rough city in a harsh universe so that the danger could help his core restart his obsession.

The first few weeks were fine; he even found work as a computer program designer that allowed him to work from home thanks to his universe's advanced technology, but soon, he struggled with loneliness and homesickness—that was where his dog came into the picture.

He adopted Equinox- Nox for short- from the local shelter, and while Nox was a mutt with unknown parents, Danny had no trouble taking care of him.

That was until he accepted a job offer at Wayne Enterprise, and his work hours shifted from remote work seven days a week to four days. He wasn't stimulating Equinox properly by keeping him inside the three days he was out and his poor boy was suffering from it.

This could have easily be solved with a pet sitter or just a dog walker but this is Gotham. Danny knows he picked this place for its constant danger to keep his obsession active but he just wasn't expecting Gotham to be so...much.

He had a panic attack just thinking about what would happened to Nox if he trusted just anyone to take care of him.

Nox is the only living being that is under his Protection. It went against his very Instincts to not find someone he trusted utterly to walk him.

Danny checks his phone to see Nox peaceful sleeping in his doggy bed and sighs. His boy has been sleeping more and more lately, losing his bright spark.

"Whats wrong Danny?" Karla, one of the Office interns, asks from where she is walking along side him.

"Nothing, it's just my dog needs to go for a walk, and I'm not there to give him one." He says, turning the screen. "I wish I can have some one walk hin for me-"

"Understood. I shall pick up your dog tomorrow, Fenton," a tiny voice cuts in. The two turn around only to look down at the green eyes of Damian Wayne. His bosses' son and brother. Oh boy.

"Ugh, I'm sorry?" He blinks as the youngest, Wayne thrusts a piece of paper at him. Danny has no choice but to hesitantly takes the paper. On it is a professional if short resume belonging to Damian that highlights his skillset and community service.

"Father has informed me of the family tradition started by our Pennyworth. Every Wayne gets a part-time job from twelve to grow character." The boy says, hands behind him and back straight, appearing every bit his status. Also, it is like a little kid trying to appear as an adult. Danny found it kind of cute, and it reminded him of Jazz. "I have multiple experiences with animals, as you can see from volunteering at the local shelters. My fees for my services are also meager and would surely not be difficult to cover."

Danny's core turned cold, but not in the wrong way. It was a cooling sensation he had associated with a fun day of either a snowball fight or the fresh first fall. He knew he could trust the boy.

"You know what? Yeah I love it if you walked my dog. In fact would you be interested in being a dog sitter?"

The boy's green eyes brightened with childish glee, but he tried to remain serious. Danny's heart melted at the sight. Oh, he should call Jazz soon. "That would be most acceptable."

Unknown to Danny, Karla, or Damian, Dick Grayson watched the trio as his brother handed one of the most mysterious employees a resume. Now, why would Fenton want to be close to Damian?

Over the last few months, people have been trying to take advantage of Damian because they thought his brother stupid for his mixed blood, just as they did when Bruce first took him in.

Danny doesn't mind Alfred's rule to find a part-time job to help teach them values, but he finds people aren't as kind as they should be. He'll have to keep an eye on this Danny Fenton.

Maybe he can help co-sit his dog.

[gunsandspaceships]

Tony Stark’s achievements

Childhood:

“Brilliant and unique mind”

At age 4 built his first circuit board

At age 6 built his first engine

Cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school on a dare

Went to college at 14

Built cool smart robots (Dum-E and U) when he was a teen

At 17 graduated summa cum laude from MIT

Polyglot

Before Afghanistan:

“Da Vinci of our time”

Became an owner and CEO of Stark Industries at 21

Successfully ran the company for decades

Advanced the world of technology, not only in weaponry and robotics but also:

created advanced AI J.A.R.V.I.S.

created holographic interface technology

created repulsor technology

Participated in charity

In and after Afghanistan:

“I’m sorry, I’m not Tony Stark”

Survived an open-heart surgery in a cave, without general anesthesia

Lived with, in fact, a debilitating wound, shrapnel, and a huge and dangerous technological device in his body for years and was willing and capable of doing not only his usual work but also being a superhero and doing all these next things...

Did not give up under torture and fought with his captors

Invented and built a miniaturized Arc Reactor, in a cave, with a box of scraps

Invented and built Iron Man armor, in the same cave, with the same box of scraps

Escaped from captivity by himself (with help from Yinsen, but without any armed assistance)

Became an expert in piloting and driving

Saved people in Gulmira

Saved a USAF pilot

Probably the best hacker in the world, was able to easily hack networks of the Pentagon, US government, AIM, and SHIELD

Fought with Iron Monger after nearly died. Defeated him and saved many lives. Was ready to die for that

Built many more different Iron Man armors

Fought terrorists between IM and IM2 (IM2 tie-in comics)

Saved a submarine crew (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home)

Saved a woman from a fire (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home)

“Stabilized East-West relations” (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home), so the world was “enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace in years”

Organized Stark Expo

Was able to keep Iron Man armor in his safe hands despite the government’s and HYDRA’s attempts to take it for themselves

Defeated Ivan Vanko in Monaco

(Re)Discovered a new element

 Synthesized it, by building a particle accelerator, at home

Revolutionized energy industry and science. Gave clean energy to the world

Defeated Vanko in New York with Rhodey, Natasha, and Pepper and saved many lives again

Saved Peter Parker (IM2)

Made it so that the Abomination would not leave prison and join the Avengers

Built Stark/Avengers Tower powered by Arc Reactor technology

Saved Steve Rogers and many civilians in Germany from Loki

Was able to fight with Thor on equal terms

Biggest brain on Earth, arguably - in the Universe:

best scientist on the team, in SHIELD, on Earth, in the Universe

expert in nuclear, particle, and quantum physics

was able to learn very quickly – became an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics in one night

Successfully tracked Tesseract by its gamma radiation with Bruce

Saved Helicarrier with the Avengers and SHIELD agents on board, almost died

Saved Rogers from a merc right after that

Fought with Chitauri, killed many of them, saved a lot of people

Was able to blow up a Leviathan by himself

Saved New York City by redirecting a nuke to the wormhole

Saved the world by destroying Thanos’ Chitauri army, almost died again

Founded The United States Department of Damage Control to clean up after battles

Rebuilt Stark Tower into Avengers Tower and gave each team member their own quarters

One of the best biologists and biomedical engineers on Earth, even if it’s not his main area of expertise:

helped Maya with Extremis back in 1999, because knew more in her own field, and even didn’t remember that

was head hunted by Aldrich Killian to work on Extremis with/instead of Maya, who was the leading expert in tissue regeneration

improved and stabilized Extremis, so it became safe regenerative technology, and with it…

cured Pepper

healed extensive injuries in his chest

invented and implanted devices for remote control of his suits (into his forearm in IM3, and most probably into his brain for Mark L armor in Infinity War)

invented build-in diagnostic system in his suits

Invented many devices for protection purposes (ex. bomb disposal)

A capable detective. Figured out the cause of explosions in IM3 on his own

Saved Pepper instead of himself by putting Mark 42 on her during the attack on his Malibu mansion

Survived the attack with a barely working prototype suit. Shot down a helicopter with a piano

Was able to fight with enhanced fire-breathing regenerating terrorists without armor and weapons in Rose Hill. In handcuffs

Knowledgeable and skilled in medicine:

saved a kid with his arc reactor in a deleted scene from IM3, selflessly pulling it out of his chest and performing defibrillation under electric shocks

knew how to recognize hyperglycemia when Harley was eating 3rd bawl of candies

closed his wound in Infinity War with nanoparticles

performed first-aid on Bruce after his snap

Built a lot of stuff from random things he bought in a store for the assault on the Mandarin's mansion. In a motel

Successfully stormed the Mandarin's mansion full of armed and huge security guys with dogs. Alone. Without his armor

Successfully escaped captivity in the Mandarin's mansion with just a few pieces of armor on

Saved all the people who fell from the Air Force One

Stormed Roxxon Norco ship with Rhodey, without a suit. With one handgun

Saved the US president

Defeated Killian and his Extremis-enhanced terrorists, saved many lives

Built quinjets

Created Iron Legion

Became the benefactor of the Avengers, provided them with everything, was a combatant, and also the team’s pilot, hacker, engineer, medic, and scientist

As an Avenger saved many lives on missions, including destroying the rest of HYDRA in AoU

With Bruce’s help created Veronica and Hulkbuster suit

Defeated a rogue Iron Legionnaire with a fork

In contrast to other team members was able to function after Wanda played with his mind

Defeated mad Hulk. Saved a lot of lives in Johannesburg

Easily hacked nuclear codes in Nexus and found J.A.R.V.I.S. “in the world’s biggest haystack”

Created advanced AI F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Many advanced AIs

Created Vision

With the Avengers defeated Ultron and his army

Evacuated people who were left in Sokovia

Saved a falling evacuation shuttle with people on it

Together with Thor saved Earth by destroying the falling Sokovia

Rebuilt Stark Compound into Avengers Compound for the team in Upstate New York

Invented several medical devices, including leg braces, blood toxicity detector

Sponsored the development of technology for psychotherapy (B.A.R.F.). Prevented it from being used for harm

Funded all the students’ projects at MIT

Did everything possible to legally, politically, and physically protect the team before, during, and after the Civil War

Was able to disarm Winter Soldier without a suit, with only one armored glove

Figured out Spider-Man’s identity

Created Spider-Man’s suits

Mentored, sponsored, and looked after Peter Parker

Saved Peter Parker (SMH). Twice

Saved the ferry from sinking

Invented nanoparticles

 “Earth’s best defender”

Went to space to save Peter, Strange and bring back Time Stone

Saved Peter Parker (IW)

Saved Strange on the Donut spaceship. Killed Ebony Maw

Cloak of Levitation chose him as his second favorite (deleted scene with Tony wearing Levi and Strange in Mark L)

Was respected by Thanos himself

Withstood when Thanos hit him with a moon

Fought Thanos, made him bleed, kept fighting even without armor

Survived a severe injury thanks to his own invention

Was able to function, tried to fix Benatar, and return home while injured and ill with an infected wound

Built a lab for Bruce and helped him to become one with Hulk (combine the best of both worlds)

Became an amazing dad

Became an expert in time travel physics

Discovered/invented (controlled) Time travel

Built a time machine

Went on Time Heist and stole Tesseract from a guarded military base

Created his own Infinity Gauntlet

Thus brought half of the universe back to existence (Bruce snapped and partially sacrificed his health, but nothing would be possible without Tony)

Saved Bruce’s arm by providing emergency medical care

Fought with Thanos again and…

Saved the whole Universe

[reasonsforhope]

"Clothing tags, travel cards, hotel room key cards, parcel labels … a whole host of components in supply chains of everything from cars to clothes. What do they have in common? RFID tags.  

Every RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tag contains a microchip and a tiny metal strip of an antenna. A cool 18bn of these are made – and disposed of – each year. And with demands for product traceability increasing, ironically in part because of concerns for the social and environmental health of the supply chain, that’s set to soar. 

And guess where most of these tags end up? Yup, landfill – adding to the burgeoning volumes of e-waste polluting our soils, rivers and skies. It’s a sorry tale, but it’s one in which two young graduates of Imperial College London and Royal College of Art are putting a great big green twist. Under the name of PulpaTronics, Chloe So and Barna Soma Biro reckon they’ve hit on a beguilingly simple sounding solution: make the tags out of paper. No plastic, no chips, no metal strips. Just paper, pure and … simple … ? Well, not quite, as we shall see. 

The apparent simplicity is achieved by some pretty cutting-edge technical innovation, aimed at stripping away both the metal antennae and the chips. If you can get rid of those, as Biro explains, you solve the e-waste problem at a stroke. But getting rid of things isn’t the typical approach to technical solutions, he adds. “I read a paper in Nature that set out how humans have a bias for solving problems through addition – by adding something new, rather than removing complexity, even if that’s the best approach.”   

And adding stuff to a world already stuffed, as it were, can create more problems than it solves. “So that became one of the guiding principles of PulpaTronics”, he says: stripping things down “to the bare minimum, where they are still functional, but have as low an environmental impact as possible”.  

...how did they achieve this magical simplification? The answer lies in lasers: these turn the paper into a conductive material, Biro explains, printing a pattern on the surface that can be ‘read’ by a scanner, rather like a QR code. It sounds like frontier technology, but it works, and PulpaTronics have patents pending to protect it. 

The resulting tag comes in two forms: in one, there is still a microchip, so that it can be read by existing scanners of the sort common within retailers, for example. The more advanced version does away with the chip altogether. This will need a different kind of scanner, currently in development, which PulpaTronics envisages issuing licences for others to manufacture. 

Crucially, the cost of both versions is significantly cheaper than existing RFID kit – making this a highly viable proposition. Then there are the carbon savings: up to 70% for the chipless version – so a no-brainer from a sustainability viewpoint too. All the same, industry interest was slow to start with but when PulpaTronics won a coveted Dezeen magazine award in late 2023, it snowballed, says So. Big brands such as UPS, DHL, Marks & Spencer and Decathlon came calling. “We were just bombarded.” Brands were fascinated by the innovation, she says, but even more by the price point, “because, like any business, they knew that green products can’t come with a premium”."

-via Positive.News, April 29, 2024

--

Note: I know it's still in the very early stages, but this is such a relief to see in the context of the environmental and human rights catastrophes associated with lithium mining and mining for rare earth metals, and the way that EVs and other green infrastructure are massively increasing the demand for those materials.

I'll take a future with paper-based, more humane alternatives for sure! Fingers crossed this keeps developing and develops well (and quickly).

[remember-the-fanfics]

I loved your gen-z!overlord! headcannon! What about the same character X Alastor or X the Vees! I liked how you wrote a bit about the character with Rosie!

Added Carmilla for funies

Alastor

• You constantly make fun of his oldness when he moved to the hotel

• He finds you entertaining and annoying, would've killed you in the beginning if Rosie wasn't already found of you.

• Thought you had the same idea with the hotel.

• Figured out quickly when he brought it up and you got pissed at him.

• Bounds over his interests of the chaos you make.

• Found out his disinterest with relationships and more physical stuff quickly

"Oh so you're AroAce? Cool."

"What are the words you just say?"

• Trying to get him to know what certain slag is from your time, nows use it incorrectly to fuck with you.

• Minus after his tussle with Pentious.

"I yeeted him, correct?"

"Ahhh! Yes! Ahaha!"

• Shown you some Overlord powers that you had no idea that you had.

• Accidentally blow up the wall a few times.

• Calls you dear child or little annoying one. Depends on his mood.

• Calls him old man to annoy him or weird ass deer man when he pissed you off.

• Decided you're a good allie after finding you laughing at what he did with Vox.

"The TV was buffering, that was really funny and good."

"Thanks for the compliments, my dear.

• Didn't change the fact when you were ready to kill him for making a deal with Charlie.

The Vees-

• The only one you on the good side is Velvette

• Vox and Valentino just keeps nice with you not to get Velvette pissed at them.

• You've tried to change the channel on Vox's face once. You're not allowed to hold any remote when visiting anymore.

• You made fun of Vox after his fight with Alastor.

"You were buffering! Guess you overheated?"

"Oh fuck off."

• Have a business deal for your territory to get Vox's stuff for cheap.

• Told him about the advancement that happening before you died.

• And had to endures something for him after Velvette dressed you up.

"Hating everything right now."

• But he is the only one that makes TV or well anything with Technology

• Everyone keeps you away from Valentino after you heard how he treats Angel Dust.

"I just want to talk with him, I just want to kill him."

• You had already didn't like him anyway.

• Creepy ass Moth motherfucker is the only 'nickname' you call him

• Valentino enjoys making you uncomfortable

• If he cross a line, you are killing him

• But then he holds Angel Dust soul above you so you don't actually kill him.

• Doesn't mean you wouldn't hurt him

• He eventually tries not to cross the line, tried of getting beaten by a child according to him.

• Velvette is the only reason you vist, mostly to her studio.

• Being a backup model when she wants you too, only in private.

• Refusing to actually model infront of people.

"I would die... again."

"Don't be dramatic about it."

• Gives you clothes that are in at the moment if you hang out in public

• Understand most of your references

• Willing to fuck someone up if they give you a weird look when she's with you.

• They all hates that you go to the Overlord meeting

• Does enjoy when you spill some tea about what happens

• You're cool enough to associate with the Vees but not enough to be one, not that you would join when you only get along with one and half of them.

Carmilla Carmine-

• Has a motherly instinct with you even though you're powerful enough to be an Overlord.

• You mostly come over to hang out with her daughters, whose usually busy working so you end up helping them.

• Ends with her mothering you when she mothers her daughters.

• Teaches you how to fight after seeing fighting so recklessly.

• Only because someone tried to fight you when her and her daughters were around.

• One of the Overlords that has been in your territory, enjoys how you keep it orderly.

• Surprised with how you run your deals and with how many Sinners come to you for help.

"Oh that was less than normal, you probably scared a few of them away."

• Makes sure your kindness isn't viewed as weakness to anyone.

• Doesn't let you cause any chaos in her presence.

• She gives you a stare that reminds you of your own mother/guardian.

• Causing you to stop before you even start.

• Odette and Clara enjoy your company, reminds them of a less annoying sibling.

• Checks up on you after exterminations, will invite you to wherever they hide but you don't usually don't leave your territory during

• Doesn't like that you get along with Velvette or any of the Vees.

• You were there when the exterminators showed up, ready to go all demon on them to buy time before Camilla showed up, Clara and Odette had to make sure you didn't still tried to fight by pulling you away with them.

• Sheltering them in your own hiding place for the rest of the time.

• Sworn to secrecy, by a pinkie promise.

"Thank you for being ready to defend my daughters at any cost."

"It was no big deal, you showed up before anything actually happened."

• You only showed up because you knew where they were hiding and saw how it quickly went to shit.

• She tried to get you to promise not to do that again, you denied it.

"If that ever happens again, I'll do it in a heart beat. So I can't."

• Realizes quickly you wouldn't let anyone mess with people you call your friends

• Even if meant facing certain death by angels.

[st0r-fruit]

Overlord Reader Hcs

A/N: Hi, this is my first time writing headcanons for reader, so please let me know if I made any mistakes! I made this because i thought it'd be nice and cool to have a reader as an overlord. A heads up that i haven't fully watched Hazbin so there might be inaccuracies.

You're an overlord, right? And not just an overlord, you're one of the richest, next to the Vee's.

You own a fine plaza of drugery and alcoholic, and a top quality successful companies of those. It's not a surprise, you're the overlord of substances and alcohol. Demons will pay MILLIONS of bucks to have a stash of your finest drugs.

You have a district on the border city zone in between the district's of the Vee's, Carmilla Carmine's and the inner city of Pentagram City. Your district is a melting pot of cultures due to being in the middle of other districts.

In a meeting with other Overlords, you'd take important notes and remind others if things drift away. That fight between Velvet and Camille? Yeah you had to break ice to ease tension before forgetting the main goal of the meeting.

Your seating position in meetings is on the right side of Rosie, your best friend.

Honestly? You're everybody's comfort buddy, even to Alastor. You bring in some comforting presence to other demons.

Relationships with other Overlords

Valentino is your top customer, ordering around 20 of your fine drugs, wine and fancy cigars. He is usually the one to make your stock reduced to little to nothing if he buys on a day. He doesn't trust any of the other companies who sells the exact items, even if you say it's excellent quality.

Technology in your small place is quite modern and techy, thanks to Vox. You flatter Vox on how advanced and cool his technology is, he usually is flustered and grumpy hearing that from you, but you know he likes it seeing that he gives you multiple rather big discounts on his products.

Your fashion culture is jumbled too. Making Velvette, the queen of fashion, questions each of your outfits. She's actually impressed, being able to mix and match right article of clothings. She gives you unsolicited advice on fashion, but you tried one of those once and BAM! Slayed 10x more with that advice. You'd took mental notes of her advices and thanked her whenever you can.

Speaking of clothing, you liked shopping and browsing in Rosie's Emporium. YOU are one of the favorite customers of Rosie. She loves your interest on 1910's fashion, frequently treating you on some products. You two would gossip on the emporium, spilling teas and laughing your asses out from all the stories.

Zestial likes to visit your plaza for wine tasting, loving all of your finest selections of wine and a surprisingly rare collection of teas (with cheese! You were prepared with the teas incase he didn't like any of the wine). You and him likes to talk about improvement of each districts with a side of said wine and cheese. Oh how he'd rant to you about Velvette's attitude and you'd pat his back.

Carmilla is another one of your customers, frequently ordering drugs and medicine from you. The drugs you produced somehow made her swifter at combat and confidence. On the other hand, medicines you produced was strong and high quality, it kept her from being irritated of Velvette.

Alastor was...quite the intresting demon in your opinion. Although, you try to not get any troubles with him, so acquaintance is the perfect word for the two of you. He once visited your alcohol parlor to find a nice wine to side with his mom's jambalaya. Of course you helped him, with your naturally charming personality and helpfulness, the radio demon got his wine. The next day, you received a homeade jambalaya soup from him, as a thanks for finding the nice wine. Maybe he's not that bad?

I hope you all like it!! Let me know if you like a part 2! Or do let me know if there's any mistake!

(holyshit i reached the tag limit guy oh wow)

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

hey! I'm pretty new to your stories: currently reading curse words and loving it! (I started the first book with the mindset that I wouldn't be caught enough to miss some real life stuff because of reading... guess what, I missed some real life stuff reading.)

but now I have a question: the books have a pretty intricate plot with a lot of good payoffs for small things. which is very cool from a reader's point of view, but from the writer's one— can you maybe share some stuff about your process? especially in the early stages, how do you go from the initial spark of an idea and what this is about to a fully formed plot? would be cool if you're willing to share

anyway have a great day I'm off to start the third book hehe!

One thing to know about me is that I have just the worst possible imagination. Absolute pisspoor garbage imagination, nothing going on up there. When I want to plot, my process is simple:

Find a problem, then solve it.

Curse Words was born of several disparate story ideas coming together, but mostly I wanted to play with the magic system -- I wanted to write a story where spells were metaphysical parasites that possessed mages, and each mage could only cast their unique spell. The whole thing came about when reading The Princess Bride, specifically the chapter where Buttercup dreams of being a perfect baby and the doctor looking her over and regretfully informing her parents that she was born with mo heart -- I was possessed with this powerful impression of a slightly wacky doctor peering over the top of his rose tinted glasses to inform a pair of parents that their baby had a curse trapped in her heart. From there, it's find the problem, solve the problem.

I wanted to separate Kayden from his family and put him in an unfamiliar environment for the story so that he and the audience would be on a pretty similar level re: world information; isolated magic and a magic school is the easy way to do that. Okay, so why is this school isolated? Why is the curse thing not common knowledge? Why do the public fear curses and have such limited access to magic that it's not a part of Kayden's day-to-day, if it's so useful? Solve the problem; look at the economy. The unique nature of spells makes them difficult to scale up, and the unpredictable nature makes them inferior to technological solutions to problems in most large-scale issues. What does this say about how the Industrial Revolution would've affected the usefulness, and therefore the public perception, of magic? The logical conclusion is the Purity Revolution.

This school is gathering and teaching all these students; why? I wanted a clear division between witches like Kayden and a privileged elite that formed most of the school body; why are they different, how are the elite kids here, why are witches accepted and integrated into the student body? Solve the problem; look at the economy, the politics. Where are these rich kids getting their magic? Why pull in witches? One question answers the other. Why didn't Kayden and Kylie know that curses were spells in advance? Seems something that should be common knowledge. Look at the politics; tie that in. Logical conclusion: magic trap. We have this magic lake with a monster in it that we introduced super early for dramatic purposes and haven't explained yet. What can we do with that? Let's invent empowered water. Let's look at what that means for the creation of potions worldwide. Let's tie in the management of unmanageable spells. Let's elaborate on the structure our magic trap.

Now we have a channel of power. Curses parasitise witches; some are blessings, some are more trouble than they're worth. The school collects curses, domesticates them, makes them more useful, locks away or renders harmless that which it cannot make use of. More curses are collected over time, the school grows and grows and Refujeyo becomes stronger and stronger as they control more of the world's magic supply, but every system has a capacity. What's the effect of this infinite growth? Here we have a clear and unavoidable economic metaphor, so obvious that not centreing the story on this concept would basically be dishonest. Who's managing this collection, what does it say about the power of the school within mage society? How would such a school relate to the rest of Refujeyo; how would Refujeyo, collecting power like this, relate to and be viewed by other magical traditions, and by nonmagical society? Run through the reasoning, solve the problem.

Why would the school only approach Kayden as a teenager, after his curse caused problems? Surely the school would want to collect as many curses as if could as early as possible. There has to be a reason why they waited. This is a good one because it flows directly from the complex political relationships between Refujeyo and commonfolk politics that have to exist, AND ties neatly into critical character motivations that have to exist for book 1's main twist to function (notably, Malas Aksoy's actions). Sort this out for book 1 and accidentally create a critical political point for the rest of the entire series.

I started writing book 1 with the idea of the court case and subsequent twist about Kayden's curse being the big mystery, but Kayden still needs something to actually do at school. We have this mage who we threw in to rescue Kayden and Kylie from the lake, and had Max hero worship her for flavour; she seems to be becoming central to a lot of interactions for some reason. A lot of dramatic stuff is therefore automatically happening in her presence, but why is this incredibly accomplished and intelligent mage fucking up so much? We've established her as careful and thorough. We need a reason for all these accidents beyond random chance. Someone's sabotaging her -- why? Let's look at our established characters and figure out who has means and motive, and who the most fun red herrings would be.

How could a place like Refujeyo, such a complex and time-consuming project that would have to involve the cooperation of so very many mages, even get built? How would it survive long enough to be powerful? When and where did this happen? We've already established the Purity Revolution; maybe there was something more coordinated than just random undirected economic forces. We've established some incredibly powerful mage families and the old system of apprenticeship and inheritance; we know that the most powerful family in Refujeyo used to have a prophecy and owned a very powerful place that helps prophecies specifically. They could coordinate something, given enough motivation and the help of enough other powerful mages. What kind of motivation? Let's go back to the Purity Revolution. If tech develops alongside magic without central oversight of some kind, what could magic enhance? What problems could be foreseen that would make this kind of investment worth it? How does Refujeyo save the world?

Tie this into our power channel. Refujeyo's attempt to save the world endangers the world due to infinite growth and power being passively collected by those who benefit from the dangerous status quo. It fits our economy metaphor, because they're essentially the same thing, just putting in magic instead of money as a means of power.

Find a problem, then solve it.

The important thing with this method is to keep your solutions cohesive. If you come up with a new different reason for every thing, your plot will look scattered and disorganised. We don't want to look like we're just pulling the story out of our arse. I mean, we are pulling the story out of our arse, that's what writing fiction is, but it's a big part of our job to help our audience suspend their disbelief on that. Whenever possible, you should look for answers that solve multiple things and weave disparate parts of the story together; this is especially true when they relate to the core plot or central theme of your story.

Also, leave gaps for reader inference. You don't have to answer every single question, you just need to make sure that some plausible answer exists for every single question. Sometimes this involves saying less, not more, and letting the audience figure it out.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Idk if you write for Vox, but can I request some headcanons with Vox being with a S/O who’s like a gamer/streamer? Like they would be streaming different games and sometimes would even get Vox to appear in their streams and have him play games with them - I can see Vox raging at a game if he loses and his S/O would just find it cute

Btw may I be called 🍡 anon if that hasn’t been taken yet??

Haha! Oooh! I actually REALLY like this idea! Vox would get even more popularity with us and we’d get a lot of popularity with Vox! I like it and the concepts is cool! Thank you so much, Mochi! Have a wonderful day!

Vox- Cameras and TVs

Vox automatically likes any partner that enjoy and use his advanced technology and since you’re a influential streamer on Tremor that uses the latest tech to keep up your career, Vox likes your tastes even more and he also likes to watch your streams. He finds them interesting

Vox, at first, was mainly your friend and your set-up provider, he’d give you the tech for your streaming career and that more casual business relationship turned into an actual one. He had grown to enjoy your streams and yes, let me say, he is actually a fan of yours

Vox eventually wanted to push up that friendship to a relationship after a few months of knowing you and getting to learn about you, so he begun subtly flirting with you, his crush growing every single day and possibly out of luck or out of his own rizz working, you agreed to go out with him. Ever since that moment, you nor him regret it

Vox may or may not travel through your gaming PC screen, just to say hi and give you a cute kiss right in front of your stream. It’s quite a surprise and he knows it’s spread around online since nobody would ever suspect a infamous streamer like yourself to be are seeing the Vox himself

Vox often only enters your streaming room when he wants to tell you something important or he wants to give you food or more Vox-like, he wants attention and hugs. Every single time he does this, he ends up playing your game with him after you encourage him

“Hmm… I don’t know, Honeypot, games aren’t my thing…”

“Come on, Voxiepie! Just try it with me! Don’t worry, i’ll help you!”

After a few seconds, Vox is already absorbed in the game that he can’t help but rage so much that the house temporarily loses power and he rushes to fix it to try save your stream. He does this a lot but you find it cute, nowhere near annoyed with it as anybody else would be

Sometimes, Vox will enter your stream then just sit you in his lap so he can watch you play and enjoy your presence, all without pulling you away from your screen or your games. To him, you look so attractive when you’re focusing on kicking ass in your little fantasy videogames

Yes, Vox promotes your merch on his show sometimes and promotes people who like streaming and videogames to watch your Tremor streams. He is a fanboy and he’s proud of how much he likes your work, he isn’t even ashamed of it. He admits it to the Vees without a single ounce of shame

Vox will wear your merch at times. Just randomly in the house you two share or whilst he is privately working as an Overlord. He loves the hoodies and the tees, they are comfortable AF and sometimes, he just goes to sleep in them

Vox is possessive so you know he is not only your Tremor mod, he’s also the one who tracks down to destroy any stalker you may end up getting from your streamer career, he also collects all your limited edition merch since he wants everybody to know you belong to him

Vox is very supportive of this career. Some of it, he isn’t a fan of but a lot of it, he loves and he is getting better at these games. Despite how often he rages at them

“Honeypot. How much have you eaten today? I hope you ate that takeout I ordered for you. Yeah? Good. What game did you take five hours to perfect this time?”

[zhongrin]

i'm having my period and i'm soft rn so ー imagine cuddling with zhongli after it's raining outside. i'm also too lazy to pull my usual post format and my taglist sorry i'm on my phone rn hskdkshdslk

tags ー modern!au, domestic fluff, dragon!li

you've taken the liberty to open your shared bedroom's windows wide. there's a relaxing music playing on the radio by the bedside. the sun is shyly hiding behind leftover rainclouds, the occasional cool wind visiting your bedroom to gently caress your skins. occasionally, you hear the sound of vehicles passing by and the neighbor's kids chattering as they take a walk down the blocks.

soft silken bedsheets and countless pillows are strewn around you as your husband spoons you from behind. the scent of tea and the soil, happily celebrating after the sky gifting them with a shower, envelops your senses just like the warm arms glowing with geo lines draped around your waist. your legs are lazily entangled with his, his long hair tickling your skin. scaly tail swiping and flopping against the mattress occasionally, and sometimes you hear zhongli's horns thumps against the headboard as he shifts. you think you should get a new bed; maybe one with soft headboards so your husband wouldn't accidentally chip his pretty horns.

the mugs of hot chocolate and the book you've long since abandoned hours before sits on your nightstand. instead, your entertainment is replaced by the absentminded hum of the radio and the occasional mundane words exchanged between the two of you: "let's make the hot chocolate with marshmallows next time." "you're so warm and comfy, dearest." "did you take out the trash?" "ow. move your leg please. no, the other one."

you wish you could save these peaceful days into an album to revisit it again sometime in the future, but alas the human technology has yet to advance to that point.

"i love you."

you blink lazily and grin, before shuffling to crane your neck sideways, lips puckered. you feel and hear your husband shift behind you, the scent of his shampoo filling your scent as he delivers a loving peck onto your waiting lips, tasting like honey and sunshine.

"i love you more."

[evilminji]

You know what seriously doesn't get played with enough?

In the grand, shared, doll set of Danny Phantom?

The cultural alienation.

Is Danny up to date on Human Memes? Did he see that movie? Hear about that celebrity drama? He lives here, amongst us, WITH us. But? Feels... half out of the loop.

And? He can't SHARE his passions with us.

Is he REALLY gonna show his new lecture buddy that hot new Kryptonian Sci-fi series he picked up from the Zone's nearest mega market bookstore? Invite a neighbor over for some sparkling ectoplasm laced soda and a binge of this cool Alien animated film from a long dead planet's artist guild? They're trying new mediums, apparently! Danny thinks it's pretty cool, he hopes they make more.

Oh, but maybe he can talk about games!

Except he switched to the technologically far more advanced Z-Held, years ago. They have literally billions of billions of options, since every game maker in their region of the Zone designs for it. Has for millennia.

....music?

Ghost speak either creeps people out or actually hurts to hear, if they listen too long. And "normal" music... feels so FLAT. Emotionless. Yeah, he'll LISTEN... smile and agree it sound nice. But it's... it's so bland? Less then bland.

He can't even share his food! It's a one way trip to ER! If not the morgue. Half his spices are FROM the Zone now. And Zone plants? Heeeeeella poisonous to humans. Tasty af to HIM, but... yeah. No sharing.

So like... what does that LEAVE him? Dance? Hobbies? Sam n Tucker he can share his REAL interests with, but... they went to different colleges. And protecting people isn't a hobby. It's more of a Gotta, you know? He ALSO can't join any space related clubs because now he knows WAY too much about Space.

Like "above civilian clearance, no one on this planet should know that" a lot.

He gets distracted. Too excited. He KNOWS himself.

He would totally ramble on about Space.

He's a Fenton, man. It's genetic.

So... he's lonely. Adrift. A sad, sad, semi-feral noodle of a man. And you know who would never let that stand? Who also wants to know what THE FUCK he's listen too, because it's both giving him a headache and creeping him out? Kon.

This dude reminds him of Tim. Complete with the feral energy and fluffy hair. *snaps pick* lol, bro, is you. ANYWAY, this guy? Apparently the source of the Kent family splitting migraines. That sound has been KILLING them. They need to get this guy better headphones. Aliens gotta stick together, you know? Time to go make friends.

*floats over in his shades n leather jacket* Sup~!

[bodyswapmischief]

One Gift Can Change the World

(A story written for @tf-lover for the annual story exchange)

The world was a blur, as Erica zoomed by. She was driving home in a rush. The day had dragged on, and her professor was the cherry on top of pile shit that today had turned out to be. Unfortunately, her ass of a professor wasn't the only problematic man she had to face. On a daily basis, there was a parade of men that would at best annoy her and, at worst, make her wish she was not a girl. Don't get me wrong. She loved being a girl. Well, she loved being a Tom Girl. But even with her best attempt of dressing and acting tough, there were always guys trying to hit on her ... make her act like “a real woman,” Stop hiding her beauty by dressing like a “dyke,” and let a man protect her. But, she didn't need a man’s protection. She'd taken out guys twice her size. But, all people saw when they looked at her was a small and weak 4’9 girl.

Although, she wouldn't lie. She often fantasized about being a man. And, not just any man. She wanted to be seen tough on the outside like she felt on the inside. Yeah, if she was a man, she'd wanted to be ripped and muscled out. She'd want to be the epitome of strength. She'd want to look like she worked out every day of her life. She'd smile at the fact that men would finally leave her alone. She wouldn't get hit on. Her professor wouldn't even dare criticize her. And, if he did ... she beat the living shit out of him without breaking a sweat.

As she drove home, she let these ideas carry her to her happy place. Gaming. The only solace she had from reality. She could play as a manly warrior. She could be the cool space soldier with undoubted authority. She could play with the boys and not be thought of as some girl. She never even considered telling her gamer friends she was a girl. It was her little secret ... a secret made better by the fact she was better than all of them in any game they played. Thanks to the technological advancements of the late 21st and early 22nd centuries, her video game fantasies were even more of a reality. The improvements of artificial imaging, vocal mapping, and sensory mirroring in virtual reality helped to make gamers live a life in the games they played.

Now, she was speeding through traffic on her way home. She was looking forward to the only saving grace that could make this shitty day better. Today was the announcement of the newest VR game. Rumored to be the next big step in virtual reality. There have been a few clips and leaks of the game, but other than that, the games secrets have been locked up tight. All she knew of the game was that it was rumored to have true realism graphics and that if it was true ... it would be the first of its kind. She continued her way home, cursing at anything that slowed her down.

Arriving home, she ran straight to her room. “Hey, fuckers keep it down. I'm gonna be watching the announcement of the new game. And, if I'm interrupted, I'm gonna kick someone's ass.” She puffed as rushed by her roommates. With readied excitement she turned on her computer and logged onto the first stream of the announcement she could find. The screen remained black for a few seconds before flashing to life.

The screen flashed with the image of The Second Life company. Three colored triangles zoomed onto the screen. They proceed to spin around in a circle, and their points interlocked. The logo began to fade, as a man sitting at an office desk begins to get into view. The chat section began to glow abuzz. People commented their excitement, others shouted out greetings to the void, and others just threw out nonsense. “Hello! And welcome to today's announcement.” The man smiled as he spoke. His name flashed under him on the screen, Nathan Black.

The man continued to talk as he spoke with a smug grin. The attractive features of his face and those most likely underneath his suit helped fill his presence with Charisma. “History has led us to this moment. Our ancestors could only imagine what their children could have achieved. And, Human history has brought so many advancements in so many areas of science and technology. VR technology is one of these areas.Beginning in the 2010s, we entered the dark ages of VR. The first real uses and mainstream-ifacation. Over the years, new technology has been created to make these experiences even more real and personal. Now, in the great year 2130, you can play as a cartoon cat running your own cafe. Zip through space in your own spaceship. Immerse yourself in real-time team warfare. Take on cgi Dragons with your friends. Build cgi avatars to be the person you always wanted to be. Even now, data shows that 10 percent of people have decided to make VR spaces and games their true lives. Spending most of their day plugged in. 30 percent of people report a steady income from VR game economies. The future is now VR!” He stands up and begins to walk around the office. The camera moved to follow him.

“Our ancestors one hundred years ago ... had dreams. Flying cars, instant meals, teleportation services, space travel, etcetera. But, years of human conflict have stunted any progress we could have achieved. Instead, we continue to look for an escape from real life. Instead, we've put money into developing entertainment. We hope to be distracted from the world. Those numbers I've shared are only going up. With 55 percent of people interested in making a move to permanent VR or even picking up a second job in VR spaces. And, why wouldn't they? Everything our ancestors wanted, in the 21st, 20th, 19th centuries, and back to the dawn of time, is available in these VR spaces. So why not improve them to the best capabilities we can. Why not make it more real? Why not make them as indistinguishable from reality as we can? Well, we have. Everything you have seen in this announcement has not been real. It has been generated with our new console. The Second Life X.” As he says that, the walls and everything in his office disintegrate like sand blown in a strong breeze. He now stands in an open cleaning in a forest. The comment section of the stream explodes with excitement and disbelief. A group of people not believing this is real because there was just no way that graphics could be this good.

“And the first foray into this new world of VR is called Fantasy Land. The bundled game will come with the console at launch. When we developed what we are calling Real CGI ... we pondered on what genre would be the first to explore. And we thought it would be best to take it back to the earliest form of fantasy. Where knights and wizards roamed to adventure. Where fairies danced in the woods and magic was in the air. Where people would live to die as legends.”

The rest of the stream showed off new features of the game. The intensive character creation section. Erica could imagine spending days, if not weeks, just on the character creation to make her avatar the exact way she wanted it. As Nathan showed off these features, it was almost scary how real it looked. Nathan's face would morph to have different features. His body would grow and shrink to different sizes. Finally, he reverted back to himself and began to show off some spells, and they looked equally realistic. The stream ended with the surprise that the system and game would drop a week before Christmas, tomorrow.

All the excitement that built up in Erica was instantly drained. She collapsed onto her gaming chair. She let out an audible “Fuuuck!” From her room. She sat there for a few minutes and then moved to plop herself face down on the bed. “Fuck! Today couldn't just be a bit better.” As she lied there in self pity, she could hear her door squeak open. “Erica!!! Did you see it! Did you see the announcement!” She didn't even need to look up to see that her twin brother had entered the room.

She loved her brother, but right now, she wanted to be left alone. But, she could hear the excitement in his voice. And, he didn't deserve her meanness. No, Elias had to deal with meanness all his life. When they were both in the womb, Erica felt like she took all the good genes. She was smart and beautiful despite hiding it in baggy clothes. Her brother was not the brightest, and he wasn't the most attractive man in a room. He was a socially awkward geek. One that she would have to protect from bullies at school. But, now in college, he did have two things she didn't have. The ability to make real friends. Yeah, she had online friends ... but she kept a bunch of secrets from them. But, again, she didn't really like people. So, she was glad that Elias had friend making skills at the very least. So, she could spend more time alone in the virtual world. The second thing was her brother's size and strength. He was the definition of a friendly giant.

“Yeah, I heard.” She sighed and looked up at her brother. “Are you sure? Because, if you did ... you'd be more excited!” He beamed. “No, yeah, the game looked great.” She rolled her eyes. “Erica! Then why aren't you excited ... are you being sarcastic ... I can't tell. Why didn't you like the game?” Elias pleaded for an answer. “Cause, Elias, I won't be playing the game!” She yelled out. Elias jumped. “Why not? I mean, it's coming out tomorrow ... short notice. But we can go out now and wait in line for a midnight release somewhere.” Erica sighed, “It’s not because it's too soon ... it's because I don't have money to buy a new console! I thought it was gonna be a game for SL 9.” Elias looked worried. “Well that's okay ... then when you do get money ... we can go get one. So what if we have to wait a week or two.” Erica fell back onto her bed. “If only! Remember when the Second Life 9 came out ... it was completely out of stock for a year ... and then some people didn't even get it off the waitlist until 3 years later.” Elias sank on the bed next to her. He was also beginning to realize the bad news. “We could ask mom and dad ...” Erica cut him off, “They never would ... you know they are against VR, and they believe it's evil and gonna take over the world.” Elias weakly smiled, “Well ... then we hope for a miracle.” Erica, let those words sink in, “Yup, a miracle.”

Christmas Day

Erica had spent the rest of the week in a sort of depression. Now, sitting around her family as they opened presents, she couldn't get herself in the mental space to be there. Everyone was smiling and getting into the atmosphere of the day. She opened her presents like everyone else. She got dresses from her parents. She got makeup and lotions from other family members. She got a gift card from her brother, which was the only gift she liked. Christmas was another horrible day. And, when it was over, she was happy. Her and Elias began the drive back to their shared apartment. Their other roommates still gone with their families out of state.

Getting back to the apartment, she plopped onto the couch and sat down. Elias slowly approached. “I got you another present ... I thought it would be best to open away from mom and dad.” He hurried to his room and came back with a big box. “Merry Christmas!” Erica was puzzled and began to open it. “ You didn't need... Oh my fucking God! How...” She exploded with excitement, as she unwrapped the Second Life X bundle.

She ran to her room and began to plug in everything. The game loaded up, and she attached the new VR headset to her face. The logo of the company and the game flash by. She hurried to start a new game. She looked down and saw her current body in some kind of fantasy styled inn and wearing barbarian starting gear. She saw options floating around her. She instantly goes to height and begins to increase it. The world around her became slightly smaller. Now, she was standing at 6’4. She looked at her reflection in a mirror. She laughed at seeing her features on this stretched out body. She swapped her gender and felt a zap on the side of her head. She touched it as a reaction. “Fuck that hurt!” The game informed here that sensory mode had now been enabled. And, at that instant she saw her body begin to morph to look more masculine. She looked like her brother, only better looking and slimmer. As her body morphed it felt like water rippling. It felt relaxing. Then she gasped as she felt something pop out of her vagina. She reached down into her pants, noticing her clothes also were shifting to match her new body, she felt her new cock. “What the fuck ... this is new ... this game really went there!” She laughed with her same voice. She winced seeing such a girly voice coming out of this man's body. She began to explore voice options until she found one she liked. She looked at her reflection and smile. She looked like a hot fuck boy. But, she didn't want to stop there. She wanted to be a man.

She began to explore with body hair options. And increasing her muscle size by adding points to her strength stat. She found it interesting that layout her stats started as. She also found it strange that if she wanted to, she could max all her stats to 20. She maxed out her strength. She set her dexterity to 15. Her constitution maxed to 20. Her intelligence was already 17, so she didn't change it. Her wisdom was also not changed at 12. And, her charisma score of 5 was bumped to 14. Her body morphed to match every choice. She looked at her new avatar. An absolute beast of a man. Hairy, ripped, and good-looking. She was happy as she looked in the mirror. She felt her body, and it felt rock hard. Her cock was ragging in her pants. “Fuck ... is this really gonna be part of the game.” She laughed. She pondered making more changes... but she also wanted to see actual game play. Worst case she could always start a new game if she did want to make changes to the way she looked. She played the first ten minutes of the game before she felt hungry. “Too bad I still have to leave the game to eat.” She laughed.

She took off her headset, and the world was thrown out of balance. Her room looked so much smaller. She began to stumble and walk. She felt so heavy, and the floor thudded with every step. She looked down and saw her avatar from the game. She or now he was completely naked. The clothes he was wearing were torn to shreds. He let out a guttural yell instead of a scream. “Erica! Is that you!” Elias barged into the room. He looked at the naked barbarian in front of him, hung like a horse. “Ahhhhh!” Elias screamed.

Erica rushed to him. Not knowing his own strength, he knocked them both to the floor. He covered Elias’ mouth to stop the screaming. “It's me ... it's Erica!.” He shouted in a deep voice. Elias fainted. When he came to, he saw the giant man taking care of him. If this man was bad ... why was he still here. It couldn't be... “Erica ...” He let out. Erica turned to see her brother awake. “Yeah ... it's me.” He spoke, his voice rumbling the air with his deep voice. “What happened?” Elias squeaked.

The big man pointed to the screen. The news was on. A woman spoke as the words “breaking news” flashed on the screen. “Reports are still coming in of Body Transformations throughout the country and world. Authorities are confirming that the cause is the new Second Life X console. It is also believed that the company has purposefully set this bio weapon on the public. The Second Life Entertainment offices and Second Life Corporation have been radio silent on the matter. Wait ... just ... it seems like their website has just gone offline. Authorities are asking to drop off all Second Life technology to the nearest police station. Again, do not use Second Life technology.”

The news broadcast kept going. The sound of sirens from the outside began to fill the night air. Other screams could be heard in the distance. But Erica interrupted, “And, online coders found hidden code that was set to activate just a few moments ago. People are saying Second Life has been planning this for a long time.” Elias looked at his new brother concerned. “Well ... I'm sorry ... is there a way to undo this?”.

The gaint laughed and shook the air. “Sorry! I love this! This is what I always wanted. But you probably shouldn't call me Erica anymore... Call me Erik ... with a K.” He laughs “More barbaric. But what about you, little bro ... want a new life.” Elias gasped. “What about the report ... can this be trusted? What about the consequences.” Erik put his huge strong hand on his brother. “The only consequences is you'll be the person you always wanted to. Think no one is going to give this to the police ... the power to be who they want. The world has changed. You can be in it as the person you want or the person you are now.”

Elias grabbed the VR headset and put it on. He began a new game and began to edit his character. Erik watched his brother change before his eyes. Elias shrank from 6’4 to 6’. He began to slim down. His chubby body became more tone. His pasty skin tanned until he looked like an exotic Middle Eastern man. His oversized clothes fell off his body. He looked like an Arab heartthrob. He took off the headset and looked at his new body, and smiled. “Damn it feels so good. And, now that I have raised my intelligence score ... I see what you mean. This is the new world.” He smiled. He raised his hand, and small particles of frosted air began to coat his hands in a layer of frost.

“Damn, nice body, bro. Didn't know this was your ideal body. Based on physique and that you have frost magic... you picked wizard.” Erik laughed. “Well isn't it obvious.” Elias said with a wit and sass he never had before. “Bro, I think we should bring this head set to some other people. Give some friends some equally attractive bodies. And, enemies ... something else.” Elias smirked. Erik smiled, “That has to be the smartest idea you've ever had. I'm ready when you are.” He chuckled at the thought of changing everyone that made his life hell. His parents, professor, and more. The two men found some usable clothes and walked out of the apartment to help change the world.

Epilogue: Nathan Black sat in his private jet, on route to his secret bunker. In front of him was a laptop with a hooded figure on the screen. “It's been done.” He raised a glass of wine and drank it. “It took a bit more than a century, but it's done.” He smiled.

The hooded figure spoke. “The gods left behind small tools of power. From rings that could swap bodies, plants that affect a person's age, gems that allow possessions, and so many other small gifts” the figure spoke with annoyance. “They always feared giving humanity true magic. But, I have used those gift to do what they didn't want. The era of magic is among us.” Both men laughed.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Hey

Could I request something with William Afton x Fem!Reader, where he finds out that the reader is super into technic things and therefore really interessted in the Animatronics, but hides it because her parents led her to believe that no man or boy would ever show some interesst in her if she weren't the perfect stereotypical girl?

I love this! I did however kinda twist it a bit, I hope you don't mind ): if you don’t like it lmk and I’ll write something else

Taglist: @lokisgoodboy

𝒩ℴ 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉

Warnings: mentions of traditional gender roles, obsession, mentions of murder, child murder

You looked at the animatronics with interest, you looked at every little detail in them. The way they sung, the way they moved, the way their mouths moved.

You wished you could have created something as beautiful and advanced as the animatronics.

“They’re great, aren’t they?” asked the tall man standing next to your booth. You snapped your head towards him.

“They’re cool.” You said nonchalantly shrugging. He looked at you and the corners of his mouth twitched.

He was an older man with glasses slipping down his nose and holding a comically small cup of coffee. He was oddly attractive, charismatic.

“They took some time to perfect.” Curious, you turned to him and quirked an eyebrow. He looked back at you with a smile

“You made them?” you asked with a small smile at the man.

He nodded and sighed as he reminisced. "Yeah, William Afton," he said, offering his hand to shake. He turned his body to face you.

“Y/n.” you shook it with a smile.

“So, you interested in animatronics?”

"Uh..." you weren't sure what to say to him. Would it be weird to say yes? Your parents had always said it was "too boyish" for you when you were younger.

He was curious about you now.

Feeling nervous, you confessed, "I love technology. I wanted to be an engineer when I was younger.” you still did, but he didn't need to know that.

“Really? Why haven't you done it?”

"My parents always said it was a boyish occupation," you shared, puzzled as to why you were revealing your life story to a stranger.

“That’s.. dumb.”

“I know.”

He knew then, that you two would end up being close.

————————————————————-

You found yourself at the pizzeria more often. William, now a closer friend, had something to show you today.

He had made sure to clean up the parts and storage room, ridding of any signs he was a murderer.

So you came in, knocking on his office door.

Maybe you liked him so much because he was kind to you. He did not seem to mind that you were a girl and interested in this stuff. He didn’t care, he found it amazing if anything. Your mind swam in these ideas, thoughts being interrupted when a voice said “Come in!” From inside the room.

“Hey, William.” you opened it. He was looking down, reading something. His head was up when he heard your voice, he smiled at you.

He shut the book, leaving it on his desk and motioning you to sit down.

“So, I'd like to show you how I make them. Maybe one day you could help me,” he said, taking a sip of his black coffee.

You lit up at his words.

You didn't notice the sinister tone behind his words or the small smirk on his face, leaving you unaware of his implication.

He couldn’t kill you, of course he couldn’t. You were far too interesting, beautiful. It would be a waste. He’s never seen anyone this interested in his work before.

No, rather he would mold you from this sweet, innocent girl, to a ruthless killer. He would make sure that you stayed by his side, no matter what.

—————————————

You marveled at the gears and the coding, listening and hanging onto his every word. He had experience, that much was clear to you. You admired them, touching the suits.

Your hands stopped when you noticed something on the exoskeleton of one.

“Whats that?” You asked curiously.

“Those are the springlocks.” He said, proud of them. He saw your confused face and explained further.

“They restrict movement of a spring, or spring loaded mechanism. They are capable of locking to where a person can wear it.” He said, looking at his own beautiful, genius creation.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that before.” You said, looking at him and back to them.

He smiled at your reaction. “So, I have something… unfinished. I was wondering, if you wanted to help in finishing it?”

You nodded at the man, about to burst with excitement.

“Perfect.” He said with a smile. “If you don’t mind, it's back at my house. We can get working today.”

“Oh.. as much as I would love to, my cars broken. I had to take a taxi.”

“No worry, I can take you. Don’t want such a pretty girl to be taking taxis anyways.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at the man. Of course he had been a little flirtatious in your time of being friends, but that was more blatantly than anything else he had said.

But you were slowly beginning to catch feelings for the older man. He was nice, and he was very attractive.

He had caught them the moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew you had belonged to him that day.

“Okay. Yeah, sure.” You nodded again, his plan was working. You would be his.