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batchilla · 7 months ago

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Your new partner is Grayson.

He’s a weird guy.

Not necessarily a bad guy, but a weird one.

He’s not cold, in fact he’s rather friendly. However, when you really consider it, he volunteered very little information on his personal life. Reasonable, you suppose. So long as he has your back in the field and gets his reports done, you don’t need to be best friends.

Your new partner Grayson is a recent Gotham transplant. You’d never personally been, but you weren’t oblivious to how utterly mad the city was. You could hardly blame him for getting out.

Your new partner Grayson, tenses up whenever someone mentions the Batman, or any of the nutcases he fights. You don’t pry.

You do your own research.

Your new partner Grayson watched his parents die. He’d been taken in by Gotham’s favourite son, a man he seemed reluctant to speak of. He’d had, and lost a brother, to the most deranged man Gotham, if not the world, had ever known.

You stop mentioning Gotham around him after that.

Your new partner Grayson is a weird guy, who seems constantly surprised whenever you demonstrate competency.

At first you’d suspected sexism. It wouldn’t have been your first partner to have that failing.

After a few days though, you catch him being equally surprised when officer Jackson makes a connection on a string of breaking and entries, and realise that perhaps he’s just not used to the cops not being utterly reliant on a very scary angsty furry and a small child without pants.

Your new partner, Grayson, is a weird guy, who disappears sometimes. Middle of a chase he’ll be gone, and you won’t see him again for sometimes as long as hours, before he’s back. More often than not, somehow through some insane luck, the perp will have been taken down by Bludhaven’s new vigilante, and tied to a lamppost for you to find. You both hated and envied his luck.

Your new partner Grayson was a weird guy… and he was a damn good cop.

He made connections like no one else. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense. You’d asked him once, about how he seemed to know all he did. How he seemed to have access to a whole other database of clues you just couldn’t see.

And he’d smiled that cheeky smile of his, and told you he’d been consulting an oracle.

Your new partner, Grayson, moves like nothing you’ve ever seen.

You’d initially attributed it to his past as an acrobat. The way he could simply parkour over and around anything in his way, run faster then he had any right to, chase down a perp like a bloodhound.

It was more than that though. You’d say without hesitation that if you were in a firefight, he’s who you’d want at your side. You must’ve owed him your life three times over by now. Even in those situations though, when no one would have blamed him for the use of lethal force, he never had.

You’d been pinned down by a smuggling ring. You, Grayson, and ten of them - all armed to the teeth.

He’d been incredible. Superhuman, almost.

Someone had shot out the lights. He’d told you one of the smugglers must have missed. You’d never once believed him.

Ten smugglers. You’d managed to knock out and cuff one, unwilling to risk taking a shot blind.

The other nine? Those had been your partner. He had them unconscious in a heap by the time your eyes had adjusted.

No bullet wounds. He’d done it hand to hand.

You didn’t know exactly what he was hiding, but you knew he was hiding something. You decided not to call him out on it. Not as long as you trusted that whatever he was using his … inexplicable skills for was good.

And trust you did.

Grayson was a good man. Even knowing little about him

Which was why this betrayal hurt so badly.

“Say again?”

You’d sat in relative silence in an unmarked police car for about half an hour on a stakeout, and Richard Grayson had just said the worst sentence you’d ever heard. You’d never been so utterly horrified.

“Peeps popcorn.” He says, holding up the tupperware containing an atrocious biohazard, grinning from ear to ear.

“One more time please?” you fight to keep up your faked anger, but fail in the face of that fucking smile.

Honestly, it should be some sort of crime to smile like that. Like everything would work out in the end, so long as you could keep him smiling at you.

“Peeps. Popcorn.” He says it a third time. He’s trying and failing not to laugh at her, at the way her mouth twists and flails to maintain a frown.

He was tempted to tell her it was in vain. He’d broken Batman, and he’d make her smile too.

Honestly, she had such a pretty smile. Not that he’d say that, she was his partner, and they needed to keep things professional.

“It’s my turn to provide stakeout snacks, and so,” he lifts the lid of the peeps popcorn balls.

“Peeps popcorn.”

She rolls her eyes, and looks out the window of the passenger side. But she’s smiling. “It is one of life’s great injustices,” she huffs “that you can eat like that and maintain your… impressive physique.”

Dick feels his chest puff out a little. While he had been able to tell all along that she had a crush on him, but he’d never risk acting on it. Still, it felt nice to be complemented by her.

“Seriously, do you clock off and just do the ninja warrior course all night or something?” She muses, her head against the window, looking at him out of the side of her eye.

“Not exactly,” he replies, sitting back in his seat, bringing his foot up onto the cushion. “Try one.” he presses, poking her side with the container.

She takes one, rolling her eyes and nibbles at the neon cluster of popcorn.

“No. no.” she gags, “oh that's nasty. Oh, it's so sweet. Why? Why Grayson. Why would you do this to me?” she asks, setting the sticky concoction on the divider between their seats.

Dick just laughs “I am determined to make you a peeps convert.”

“Never, regular marshmallows are fine.”

“Peeps are rainbow.”

“How old are you?”

“There is no age too old to enjoy whimsy, Detective.” he responds, biting into his own.

“Besides, are you implying that rainbow marshmallows are irregular? In this day and age? Tut tut.”

“We are not making me out to be a homophobe over peeps!” she protests, still laughing, slightly taken aback at the audacity.

“If you say so.” he says, stretching his arms over his head and into the backseat. Stakeouts were terrible. He was not built to sit still in a confined space for hours at a time. However, this one provided a useful opportunity he cannot afford to waste.

Not to torment her with his war of attrition for peeps supremacy - though that was fun.

He needed to be sure of something else.

“Well. You being wrong about peeps aside. I … wanted to check back on a file from a few months ago. You uh… you didn’t move the Holt murder file, did you?”

“Holt.” she clicks her tongue in thought “the guy with…” she gestures to her chest.

“That's the guy.”

“Not knowingly. I haven’t had cause to reopen it. No new leads. I tried to track down the kid… He didn’t want a bar for me. Guess I can’t blame him. I offered the help I could… but well… the last time someone helped him his dad got brutally murdered. He’s staying in the tent city by the docks, best I can figure.” She seems to feel guilty as soon as she says it, but Dick doesn’t blame her.

He had paid for that room. If he hadn’t… who knows what might have happened?

“But if someone moved it?” he prompts, not wanting to dwell on that gnawing guilt.

“Wasn’t me.”

Your new partner, Grayson, was a weird guy who ate strange and terrible foods.

He blames himself for what happened to poor Mr Holt. Because he was good to the core, and somehow that had led to something utterly twisted.

He’s also standing on your balcony. On the 20th floor.

And it all makes sense now.

Your apartment isn’t particularly nice. It was small, and frequently disorganised. Especially when you got overly invested in a case.

You’d been texted many gifs of the conspiracy board meme by friends over the years.

Work life balance? Not something you’d ever seen much value in.

And now, your unfairly attractive new partner Grayson was in your apartment, in full vigilante getup.

You need to find a way to be normal about that in ten seconds or less, because he’s staring at you, and you're staring at him, and it's starting to get awkward.

“Hello.” you eek out.

He greets you as Detective, followed by your first and last name.

Unusually formal, for him. Unless… unless he somehow thinks a few inches of fabric in the shape of a wingding is going to fool you.

Unless he thinks he’s got you hoodwinked.

“Nightwing… to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He leans in the doorframe, his hands braced against its top, so he is leaning into your space without touching you, and giving you plenty of ability to step back if you so chose. You don’t.

“I have reason to suspect there’s a serial killer moving though Bludhaven. And that whoever they are, they have someone in your precinct on the payroll.”

You fold your arms, bristling.

“Not sure I appreciate the accusation.” Sure, the bludhaven police department was ridiculously corrupted. But you’d hope that your partner would have at least the trust in you not to think you’d help a serial killer.

“No accusation.” he reassures “a request for help. I need someone I can trust inside the department. And my source says that’s you, sherlock.”

His source? Was he kidding?

No. No he wasn’t.

Oh this was madness.

This was hysterical.

He really, truly thinks that you can’t know him outside of his streetwear. And he’s trying to pass it off like he doesn’t know himself either.

Perhaps you should tell him you know.

But… Grayson and his peeps tomfoolery isn’t the only one who can have fun.

“So… you’re asking me to… what, exactly?” You prompt, unfolding your arms, willing to give him a chance.

Nightwing offers you a smile. It’s slightly different from Richard Graysons.

It’s just as sunny, and it makes you feel just as warm and fuzzy and giggly inside. You have to fight even harder to stop yourself blushing, given how much less this getup leaves to the imagination then his usual dress pants, shirt and tie.

But it’s a little more … brazzen. Flirtatious. More… cocky. Sure, He was always at least a bit of a show off, but as nightwing? He was one of the most capable, incredible people alive, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Oh, you were doomed. But that was a problem for later.

“I’m asking you to keep an eye on the ‘heartless’ case. Holt… he’s not the only one and I think there’s going to be more. And, to be blunt?”

He stands up straight, and puts an arm on your shoulder.

“It’s a big request. But you might be the only person in that station who I have real confidence in.”

You wonder what that says about his relationship with himself, but like so many things with Richard, you don’t ask.

“I can do that.”

“And I understand that it’s dange— I’m sorry, did you just agree?” he cuts himself off, staring at you.

You laugh then, just the once.

You owed him your life many times over as his partner. But as nightwing?

Since he’d come on the scene, you’d actually felt like something mattered. Like change could happen.

Like someone was willing to help the people of Bludhaven not to reap a profit, but because the system you’d once hoped to help restore was broken at its very core, and restoration wasn’t the solution - reformation and fundamental change was. And you didn’t know how to do that.

But then Nightwing had come onto the scene, and started kicking the asses of the worst of the worst, and you had felt like you had when you’d joined the force, bright eyed, bushy tailed, and determined to make a difference.

Before the incident. And every other day, when you’d felt that optimism slowly being crushed to death, into a fine powder and blown away in the wind.

“Yeah.” you say, and agreeing to help is one of the best feelings in the world. You get to help. To make a real difference.

“Bludhaven owes you a hell of a lot, Nightwing… seems like the least I can do is tell you if anything weird comes up.”

“Right. Thank you.” he clearly wasn’t expecting this. Maybe he’d thought it would be a harder sell.

“If I do… have anything for you, how should I alert you?”

He passes you a wingding. “Put this in your window. I’ll check in every few days.”

You raise an eyebrow “all your fancy tech and you don’t have a phone”

He shrugs “phones are traceable. Plausibly just something you picked up on a case as a trinket that you ‘forgot’ to log in evidence left on a windowsill? Lot harder to trace.”

“Fair.” you acknowledge.

“Besides.” he steps backwards onto your balcony once more “your place is on one of my main patrol routes. Can’t let anything happen to the best looking detective Blud’s got.”

You scoff, without any real offence. You know he’s only playing, and that he does, as Richard, respect your intellect more then your appearance - but you suppose as ‘nightwing’ he doesn’t know you that well.

“I think you mean best detective full stop.” you respond, and he gives a small bow of playful deference.

“But of course, sherlock.”

And then he’s gone.

That night, you don’t sleep.

You felt so stupid. He’s nightwing. He’s been nightwing the whole time.

The skills. The disappearing. The way he seemed to just… know things.

The way he tensed whenever someone mentioned Gotham.

… the timing of Robin reportedly becoming a child again.

Had your new partner, Grayson, been Robin?

Had he been using the Batman's archives to solve cases? Was that his so called oracle?

… wait.

Was Bruce Wayne the FUCKING BATMAN?

You screamed into your pillow. You were laying awake, face down in your bed, because now you had realised far too many things in one night.

The first: Your new partner is Nightwing.

The second: Bruce Wayne might be Batman.

The third: you, enchanted by that fucking perfect smile, had agreed to help track down a serial killer stealing hearts.

The fourth: Your new partner, Richard Grayson, between his stupid snacks, the Alfred Pennyworth foundation he’s been working to get off the ground, and his work as Nightwing, will save Bludhaven, you know it to your core.

And the fifth. The worst, and scariest part of your night: You may very well have fallen in love with him.

Chapter two

If you read this far, reblog?

Divider credit: @strangergraphics

Tag list:

@jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

First time writing Dick! Feedback is welcome.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dc x reader #detective reader #a tentitive part one #idk what to call this series yet #or if it’ll be more then three chapters #but here goes #reblog fics

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reidsflwr · 9 months ago

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it’s been a long time coming ; spencer reid.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: back in high school you used to have a crush on spencer and now you got to work together.

warnings: nothing really but english isn’t my first language so it might have some writing mistakes (sorry) and i didn’t really like how i finished this so if you guys like i might write a second part.

Your first day at the BAU was a whirlwind. As the newest profiler, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. You had spent weeks preparing for this moment, but nothing could have truly prepared you for the reality of stepping into the office for the first time. The team welcomed you warmly, though you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of your new colleagues.

Spencer Reid, in particular, caught your attention. He was everything you remembered from high school: intelligent, slightly awkward, and undeniably endearing. Despite your attempt to stay composed, you felt the same fluttering nerves you had back then.

When Spencer introduced himself, you found it hard to maintain eye contact. “Hi, I’m Spencer,” he said with a friendly smile. “Welcome to the team.”

You managed a nervous smile. “Thank you, Spencer. It’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and he seemed eager to make a connection. “If you need any help with the databases or anything else, just let me know.”

You nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the day progressed, you tried to focus on your work, but every time you glanced at Spencer, your heart raced. You could tell he was making an effort to be friendly and supportive, but you were too nervous to engage with him properly. It was clear he noticed your reluctance but didn’t push it, giving you space.

⌢୨୧⌢

The days following your first encounter were a struggle. Spencer’s attempts to be friendly and helpful often ended in awkward silences. He would offer to explain things you might not understand or bring you coffee, but every time you tried to respond, you stumbled over your words or offered a rushed, one-word reply.

One morning, Spencer approached you at the coffee machine. “Hey, I’ve been reading this fascinating book on criminal psychology. Would you like to borrow it? I think you’d find it really interesting.”

You forced a smile, feeling the familiar flush creep up your cheeks. “Thanks, but I have a lot of research to catch up on.”

Spencer’s face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered. “No problem. If you change your mind, just let me know.”

Later that week, you found yourself alone in the break room when Spencer came in, carrying a stack of papers. “I noticed you were working on the same case. I thought you might need some additional resources,” he said, placing the papers on the table.

You took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to speak. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you quickly retreated to your desk, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration at your own behavior.

Despite Spencer’s best efforts to reach out, you continued to shy away, struggling to hide your feelings. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact with him; rather, every interaction left you more flustered than the last.

⌢୨୧⌢

The day came when Hotch assigned you and Spencer to interview the mother of a victim. You were grateful for the change of pace but also anxious about spending extended time with Spencer. As you drove together to the victim’s home, you focused on the task at hand, trying to push your nerves aside.

Spencer’s attempts to make conversation during the drive were met with brief, hesitant responses from you. “So, how are you finding the BAU so far?” he asked, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you.

You shrugged, feeling the weight of your own silence. “It’s… it’s good.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “You know, you seem a bit distant. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done something to upset you.”

Your heart sank at his words. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me,” Spencer explained. “Whenever I try to be helpful or friendly, you… well, you seem uncomfortable. I assumed maybe I did something wrong.”

Feeling a pang of guilt, you decided it was time to explain. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Actually, it’s the opposite.”

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “Well, it’s a bit complicated. We knew each other in high school. We even had a few classes together.”

Spencer looked puzzled. “Really? I don’t remember you from high school. I think I would have remembered.”

You nodded, your cheeks flushing with a mix of nostalgia and embarrassment. “I actually had a crush on you back then and i guess now that we’re working together, those old feelings are resurfacing, and it makes me a bit awkward around you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean you had a crush on me!?”

You nodded, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Yes, I did. I thought you were incredibly smart and cute. I was too shy to ever talk to you. I remember how you used to come into class with these fascinating books and how you were always so focused. I just thought you were amazing.”

Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I was so awkward back then. I mean, I’m still a bit weird, but not as much, I hope. I didn’t think anyone would ever see me that way, especially back then.”

You shook your head with a smile. “No, I thought you were adorable. You were this brilliant, quirky guy who seemed to be in his own world, and I found that really endearing.”

Spencer looked at you, clearly flustered. “I had no idea you felt that way. I always thought you were avoiding me because you didn’t like me.”

You smiled reassuringly. “No, I just didn’t know how to act around you. I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed your words. “Wow, I’m kind of speechless. I never imagined…”

Before he could continue, you gently cut him off. “Let’s just focus on the interview for now. It’s important that we get this right.”

Spencer nodded, still processing the revelation. “Right, of course.”

As you both approached the victim’s mother’s home, the air between you felt lighter, charged with a new understanding. Spencer, though still surprised, was clearly intrigued and more attentive than ever. The tension that had once been present seemed to dissolve, replaced by a newfound curiosity and connection between you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfiction

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

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Swipe Right

Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

“Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it’s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.”

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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sgiandubh · 2 months ago

Text

And who would've thought... it figures

My attention has been very recently drawn to this very telling non-announcement:

[Source: https://hq.rostr.cc/insider/news/the-fratellis-sign-wtth-toura-toura; announcement published on February 24, 2025]

And surely enough, this was quietly confirmed by Toura Toura on the company's socials. It would also seem they have been collaborating for a while, now, even before the info was disclosed:

[Source: https://www.instagram.com/ltdtouratoura/]

[Source: https://www.facebook.com/touratourahq/]

It is even on the Booking Agent Info professional database:

[Source: https://bookingagentinfo.com/celebrity/the-fratellis/]

To quote: 'The Fratellis' managers used to be Anthony McGill' (..)'. Operative concept - 'used to'. Past tense. The three of them managers seem to have vanished into thin air. Oh my, what on Earth could have happened?

According to Companies' House, UK Government company register, Kevin Fitzgerald is the sole owner of two companies. The first company is Toura Toura Ltd, which nature of business is 'sound recording and music publishing activities':

[Source: https://find-and-update.company-information.service.gov.uk/company/11826082]

... and Toura Toura Festivals Ltd, which nature of business is 'performing arts' and which is doing just slightly better - its paperwork is ok, for the time being:

[Source: https://find-and-update.company-information.service.gov.uk/company/12502492]

The accounts' analysis is interesting, in a way, for there seems to have been very little (if any) turnover/profit in both companies for the last three years, with very mediocre balance sheet reports to boot:

... and...

Anyways, I am rather tempted to follow-up and report if anything new pops in, which might happen rather shortly, with last year's report overdue for the first company and due in about two weeks for the second one.

You might be forgiven of superficially thinking this entrepreneurial profile looks like another person's (ahem). It doesn't: his net assets are positive, despite the reporting negligence as far as Toura Toura Ltd is concerned. And the COVID pandemic might explain those financials, at least partially. For instance, in May 2023, Toura Toura Festivals landed in hot water, when the Wolverhampton Council completely let them down, canceling for the third year in a row the city's Creation Day Festival:

[Source and more details, here: https://accessaa.co.uk/toura-toura-festivals-seeking-legal-advice-after-creation-day-postponed-for-third-year-running/]

The man seems to have a good reputation in the business. I found this pre-COVID interview (February 2020) for a specialized blog very honest and quite endearing - excerpts follow:

[Source: https://vanadianavenue.co.uk/2020/02/12/indieterria-meets-kevin-fitzgerald-of-toura-toura/ ]

And then look who's on The Fratellis' following Instagram roster...?

[Source: https://www.instagram.com/thefratellis/following/]

Alan McGee, Fitzgerald's providential first client! Yes. Connections are always important, irrespective of the industry, but perhaps even more in that particular industry.

I strongly suggest you'd give five minutes to Mr. Fitzgerald's story of a single dad who has been through loss and found the power to reinvent himself. Clearly a very hands-on, proactive work ethic and perhaps the reason The Fratellis signed with him, after all?

So you see, I think there is a difference between 'working in the shadows' and being non-existent/not giving a flying fuck. I even surprised myself feeling glad for a perfectly unknown person's apparent comeback.

You might also think McGill's got other clients?

Chances are he doesn't, plus his profile isn't even claimed - now, why would that be?

[Source: https://bookingagentinfo.com/managers/anthony-mcgill/]

For comparison purposes: the profile is checked by Fitzgerald himself and the clients are there. I didn't bother to look further - it's crystal clear.

[Source: https://bookingagentinfo.com/managers/kevin-fitzgerald/]

You knew this will immediately follow, right?

youtube

You're welcome.

PS: Thank you for the tip. As always, superb and easy to follow. You know who you are 😘😘😘😘.

#fandom #shitshow #Fratellis #business #band management #new balls #Youtube

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dokoni-mo · 27 days ago

Text

Waiting Drives You Crazy || Springtrap x GN! Reader

summary: you reunite after 30 years

SFW // angsty fluff

word count: 3252

warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, mental health issues including but not limited to anxiety, depression, and thoughts of unaliving, springtrap is smelly af, established relationship, angst, fluff, will is just a bad person lmao

masterlist

a/n: wow my first fic in more than a year,, i really hope that I've still got it!! This story doesn't really connect to crave toooooo muchhh?? but i've still tagged my normal list for crave anyway!! pls lmk if i missed you or you don't want to be tagged in stuff like this! also, this is based off one of my fav fnaf vhs series!! i'll link it here! enjoy!

When they called you saying that they had found William, you spilt your coffee mug all over the kitchen floor.

"What?" Was the only thing that managed to slip past your trembling lips, breathless as if you had been kicked in the chest full-force. And that's what it felt like, honestly, hearing William's name again. Nobody ever talked about him anymore. After what had happened, all that came up about him after his disappearance, it was taboo to even mention him in passing. Let sleeping dogs lie, they said. Leave the demon to his demons.

But a part of you always wondered.

"Yes, you heard me correct." The agent reassured you, and you could hear how he tapped his pen against his notepad on the other end of the line. "We found him, er, we found William. The DNA samples we collected all matched the ones we had on our database. And Michael gave a positive ID."

You fell silent again, your blood feeling as if it were ice in your veins. The room was fuzzy, with a ringing in your ears that you couldn't pinpoint when it began. You stood motionless for a moment before your legs gave out from under you. Your body stumbled to the side, making you fall against your kitchen counter with an oof.

"(Y/N)?" The agent's voice asked, a note of concern in his otherwise flat, professional tone, "Are you alright? Are you still there?"

You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, nodding even though the man on the other line couldn't see.

"Y-Yes, yes, I am." You confirmed, gripping on to your phone tighter. In order to make sure you wouldn't stumble again, you slid down your wooden cabinets to sit on the floor, not caring about your shattered coffee mug and the pool of steaming coffee next to you. "Sorry, I just... I..."

"No worries," the agent replied, seeming to understand you despite not saying a word, "I get that this is a lot to take in. Just, take a few deep breaths, yeah?"

You take his advice and take in a few deep breaths, the quiet moment allowing you to feel just how fast your heart was racing in your chest. You swallowed thickly after composing yourself, hugging your knees close to your chest.

"I-I just... Is he okay? Is Michael okay?"

"Oh, yeah, Michael is fine. William, however..."

The man trailed off, an awkward silence hanging over the air between the two of you. Your impatience got the better of you, and you were the first to speak up.

"What? What's wrong with him?"

Silence again, only broken up by a sigh and the faint sounds of whispers to a colleague you didn't make an effort to discern. You were about to ask the same thing again, only firmer, when the agent finally spoke again, calm enough to make you slightly annoyed.

"We think it might be best for you to come and see for yourself. William's situation is... quite complex. And we're it would do him some good to see you again."

The annoyance you felt slowly faded away into the ether at the offer, your lips parting in surprise.

Come and see for yourself.

Could it really be that easy? Thirty years you spent wondering what happened to William. Searching for any little piece of evidence that might have pointed to where he would have gone. All those nights of tossing and turning, rereading the newspaper articles over and over, booking therapy appointments just to cancel the night before, just to be handed a reunion on a silver platter? If it weren't for the ceramic shard digging in to your heel, you would have thought you were dreaming.

"Uh- O-Of course we understand if you would prefer not to--"

"No. Sorry, n-no, no..." You rasped, only just then realizing that you hadn't said anything, "No, I want to. I definitely want to. I just thought... It's been so long..."

"We understand. We thought so as well, but... I-It'll be easier to explain when you get here. We could have a car come and get you as soon as tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you?"

You stood up from your seat on the floor, carrying your phone over to look out the window. You could see the sun setting overtop of the buildings surrounding your shitty little apartment complex. Your left hand absent-mindedly fidgeted by your side, touching the ring on your finger and twirling it over and over again on the digit.

"Yeah, that's fine." You replied, knowing full well you had work in the morning. To hell with it. Fuck it.

This was far more important.

~~~

Nearly the entire ride to the facility was spent by you fidgeting in the back seat of the van with not a word spoken to the driver. You couldn't find a position to where you could sit comfortably, making you shift around every so often. Looking out the window to the drab, grey sky that stretched out in front of you, you tried to distract yourself to no avail. Your thoughts constantly drifted back to William, thousands of thoughts drifting through your mind.

Where the hell had he been the last thirty years? How was he even still alive? Why didn't he ever try to contact you? What exactly did these people mean when telling you it would be easier to explain in person? And most importantly, what the hell were you even going to say to him?

You didn't know. But you needed to try. Hopefully you could wing it as you go.

Eventually, after passing by some rather sketchy looking buildings on the highway, you scooted forward in your seat to talk to the driver, leaning against the passenger seat as you looked at his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

"Hey," you said, "How much further are we out?"

"Just around five minutes." The driver replied, "Just gotta take the exit and we're there."

The driver put the blinker on and merged out of the highway, taking the exit ramp down closer to some of the buildings. He drove for a few more minutes before pulling in to the parking lot of one of the shorter buildings, a few security guards around the perimeter. The two of you drove up to what appeared to be the front door, where two men in suits were waiting outside for you once you parked.

The driver walked around to the opposite side of the car to open the door for you, letting you walk the short distance up to the door. The two men standing there looked at you as you approached, one of them reaching out to shake your hand. This one had glasses with salt-and-pepper hair, the other one with brown hair and deep wrinkles.

"(Y/N), yes?" The agent shaking your hand greeted, offering you a small, almost sympathetic smile, "We're glad you could make it out. I'm agent Carter, the one you spoke with on the phone. This is my colleague agent Smith."

You glanced to agent Smith, who only gave you a little nod before you looked back to agent Carter. It was clear who was the more friendly of the two.

"I see. Nice to meet you too." You replied, shifting your bag on your shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "Thank you both for inviting me here. It's... This is an opportunity I didn't think I'd ever get."

"Oh, it's no trouble--"

"Let's just get down to business, yes?" Agent Smith interjected with a sigh lacing his voice, turning and walking off in to the facility. Agent Carter followed behind him quickly, and held the door open for you as you followed. You walked behind the two men as they led you deeper into the building, seeing the different people in business-casual attire milling about the area.

"We found Mr. Afton a few weeks ago, but it's only now that we have seen any signs of life from him." The brown haired agent told you, making you pause and raise a brow.

"Signs of... life?" You questioned, earning a sideways glance from both agents.

"You'll see for yourself in due time." Smith replied before ducking inside of a room, Carter holding the door for you again as you stepped inside.

You took a moment to stand in the doorway and take in what you saw inside of the room, your breath catching in your throat. A plethora of large, flat TV screens lined the far wall, some displaying images of bare rooms, and others just showing static. There was a microphone on the desk lining the same wall, along with some computer monitors, keyboards, notebooks, abandoned cups of coffee and three different swivel chairs. Even though none of these were threatening by themselves, the combination of all of them made you shift in your stance and clear your throat.

"Wh... So, where is he?" You asked as you looked to Agent Carter for some answers, who just gave you a small smile.

"He's just behind this door." Smith replied as he gestured over his shoulder, nodding in the same direction. Looking behind him, you saw a reinforced door with barred, reinforced windows and several different locking mechanisms. Your brow furrowed in confusion and you opened your mouth to question it, but Agent Carter had interrupted you before any words could come out. He walked up to you and pressed something long and metal in to your hands, only adding to your confusion.

"We require that you to take this in with you." He said, his eyes flashing with hint of sympathy as you turned the object over in your hands; a shocking prod. "It's for your own protection in the event we can't get the door open in time."

"Wh-What?" You questioned as your eyes widened, turning the shock prod over in your hands again. "Are you serious? Will wouldn't."

"You have one hour to be with him. After that you'll have to sign a form and undergo a medical examination." Smith interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder and practically pulling you over to the reinforced door.

You tried to protest, but he either didn't hear you or didn't care as he undid the locks to the door. The agent opened the door the bare minimum amount required to get you through the threshold before practically shoving you inside, nearly knocking you off your balance. You clutched on to the shock prod tighter as you flinched at the sound of the heavy door shutting behind you then the clicking of several locks closing shut. You stood in silence for a moment before the lights flickered on in the room, your eyes stinging as they adjusted to the harsh, cool-toned lighting.

Inside of the room was a metal table with two chairs, with scratches, marks, and mystery stains lining every surface. Scanning over the room, your eyes eventually landed on something in the corner, slumped over and sitting on the ground. It took you a moment to decipher what it was, earning a gasp from you when you eventually did. It was the spring-bonnie suit William used to wear, all those years ago. You could recognize that yellow fur and rabbit ears anywhere. Although, it was clear that time had not been kind to old bonnie, his fur matted and full of holes and stains, with obvious chunks missing, not to mention the horrible smell.

You stared at the yellow rabbit for a long moment before your grip on the shock prod tightened again, your brow furrowing. You felt frustration and anger rise inside your chest, feeling the heat in your cheeks. You were promised to see William. And this was all you got? A rotting costume?

"Is this some sort of sick joke?" You sneered as you looked around the room again, your eyes eventually landing on the security camera hanging from the ceiling. You glared in to it before turning and pounding on the iron door, your frustration only growing with each loud bang.

"Are you two serious?! What is this?! Get me out of here! Hello?? HELLO--"

"B... Bun... ny... Bun-ny..."

You freeze, your face growing pale and your motions falling away to a halt. You feel a chill run down your whole body, as if a ghost had passed through you and stole your soul.

No... it wasn't. It couldn't be. It was impossible...

But who else had ever called you bunny before?

Slowly, you turn around, your hands shaking and your bottom lip trembling. Your wide eyes take in the sight before you, sending another chill down your body. Spring bonnie, who was originally sitting down, was now upright, hunched over and twitching every so often in a manner that made your body ache. Two white, glowing eyes were staring right at you, almost as wide as your own. You could feel your body tremble with fear, but your mind felt oddly blank, as if trying to catch up with reality.

It couldn't be. I just couldn't--

"W... Will?" You heard yourself say before you could register it in your mind, your body acting on pure instinct alone.

The decrepit Spring Bonnie seemed to twitch again at this, the rusty joints creaking and popping in an unnatural manner. The animatronic takes a heavy, labored step closer to you making you flinch.

"B-Bun-ny... m-my... bunny..." Spring Bonnie's voice spoke to you again, sounding as if his throat were full of wires and metal. He takes another painful-looking step towards you, and you flinch again, your back pressing against the metal door as the shock prod dropped out of your hand and clattered to the floor. The animatronic seems to take note of this and stops his approach, an almost pained, heartbroken look flashing in his mechanical eyes.

"D-Don't be... scared." Spring Bonnie tells you, even as you felt your lungs rapidly rise and fall in your chest. "It's me... (Y/N). I-It's me..." I would... never... hurt you."

You heard a ringing in your ears as you listened to the animatronic... William's words. No, there was no denying it anymore. You knew in your heart that this was William. Those glowing, robotic eyes; you could still see the remnants of the man you loved behind him. The grey eyes that you used to love with all your heart.

Tears stung in the rims of your eyes as you stared ahead at William, the cold air of the room stinging inside your chest. A pained look flashed in your eyes, and you started to shake your head.

"N-No... i-it... That's not..." You choked out as you felt hot tears slip down your cheeks and dribble down your chin. "How, I... I-I don't understand--"

William shushes you before you could get out any more words, to the best of his ability, at least. He takes a few more labored steps closer to you until he's within arms length, the smell of rot and mold filling your lungs. You ignore it, however, glued in place as you watch his... hand? paw? Reach up to you. A metal finger lifts to your face, and wipes a tear from your cheek with a shocking amount of gentleness.

"You're... s-still as... stunning... as I... remember." William rasped, making your lips part as a warmth flooded your chest. Even now, all these years later, he still remembered you? Made you swoon? It was all you ever hoped for.

You took in a deep breath and let it slip from your lips, feeling how they curved up into the slightest of smiles. You reached up to your face and wiped your eyes as best you could, taking a moment to look William's new body up and down before meeting his gaze again.

"You thought about me?" You asked in a rasp of a voice, feeling the rotted furry palm of William's drop from your face and scrape down your arm.

"C-Constantly." He replied, and you swore you saw the rabbit ears on the top of his head perk up.

Your small smile lingered for a moment as you stared into William's glowing eyes, your gaze eventually trailing down his body once more. You could see the mold and rot on the tattered fur, along with remnants of what was probably blood and other gore you didn't want to think too much about. The more you looked, the more your smile faded, until it was just a frown.

"I just..." You began, shaking your head in disbelief. "I just have so many questions. How are you even alive? What happened to you?"

William's shoulders squared in response to your interrogation, a deep rumbling emanating through his voice box. He looked off to the side, deep in thought and pausing for a long moment, as if the memory was far in the depths of the remnants of his mind. After a beat, I looked back up into your eyes, and you felt his paw grab on to your hand.

"It is... a long... story." He rasped, tugging on your hand as he turned. He took a few heavily labored steps back to the corner of the room, and you followed after him. Slowly, he moved his giant body so that he could sit back on the floor, lifting up his arm for you to join him by his side. You looked at the obvious signs of decay where you were supposed to rest yourself, and pulled your jacket tighter around your body. You knew Will probably wanted some human contact and connection with you after so long, but you really didn't want it to end with having to go to the ER for a tetanus shot.

You knelt down before moving to sit next to William, feeling his heavy, robotic arm wrap around your shoulders. He pulled you in as close as you could go to him and let out a sound akin to a purr, his other paw moving to rest on your knee.

"I-I never meant... to leave you... bunny." William wheezed, his glowing eyes never leaving your face. "I was... chased. Trapped."

"Chased by who?"

The golden rabbit man paused, as if to search for what to say.

"Spirits... after me. Th-They wanted... revenge."

"Spirits? Revenge? Revenge for wha--"

"I-I was... terrified. So I... hid. In the suit. My sweat... made the... sp-springlocks... go off. I-I died slowly... painfully. But... came back later. S-Stuck in pain for... thirty years..."

Your eyes softened as you listened to William's story, feeling an ache in your chest. You couldn't imagine just how scared he must have been; scared, alone, and in pain for thirty years. It sounded like absolute hell. Worse than hell, even. It sounded like agony for him to even talk, let alone just exist inside of the Spring Bonnie suit for so long. Your eyes stung with tears again as you placed your hand over his, careful to avoid any sharp pieces of metal or wires.

"Oh, Will... I'm so sorry. That sounds... Just horrible."

You sniffled back your tears before lifting your hand to his rotted cheek, gently cupping it where you knew it would be safe. He immediately let out another purr, leaning in to your touch as his eyes turned half-lidded.

"Are you in pain right now?" You asked, bracing yourself for the answer.

"Y-Yes..." He responds, closing his eyes for a moment before gazing back at your face.

"B-But having you... makes... the pain... bearable."

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 @the-official-memester @randomwriteralan @mrsrogerwaters @laylaaftonshit @cherry-slushee @insert-memical-username @mrssafton @horrorking2000 @artist-anon08 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jamiethenerdymonster @kimyona-san @purplewolfcoffee @violetlmfaoo @reapersimps @wawuwe @lovinglenore @zoey5252 @000-mika @strawberrysandhim @sopiasleeps @mxstly-melancholy @kinniewhre @myglife @coffeeforthecatgod69 @glitched-out-dusk @bagelbxtch @confiscated-peaches-main @itswolfie @zenhatescats1 @sat10 @dfghfjfjfjfjfj @strawberry-gothic

apologies to blogs tumblr won't let me @ ! If I missed you or you want to be added, please let me know!

#william afton x reader #william afton #springtrap x y/n #springtrap x reader #springtrap x you #william afton x you #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf fanfic

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motherofdogs1010 · 1 year ago

Text

A Jedi in Arrakis I (Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: While on the run from Empire troops, Jedi padawan Y/N comes to find out that hyper-driving in a compromised craft can have some major setbacks when she discovers not only is on a new planet but a whole new galaxy as well...

Warnings: jedi!reader, eventual 18+, NSFW, angst, fluff, eventual smut/pinv!sex, oral sex, talks of questioning the Force and teachings, more to come as story progresses

A/N: Like Ahsoka, I left Reader to have white, which means they are neutral and I feel Anakin would have taught any other padawans to be neutral when it came to the Force. The type of lightsaber Reader has for any photo reference is the same type Darth Maul has!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Series Masterlist

She had e/c eyes that looked at him softly as she laid beside him; the white silk she wore over her body showing the curves she possessed as she reached a hand out and caressed his cheek.

"Paul", she softly said, her skin tanned and soft.

Her hair fell around her and framed her face as she blinked.

"Paul..."

Her voice lulled him before he heard a humming, a buzz of electricity coming to light before a white light took over, shielding him from her...

🪐

In a galaxy far, far away...

Hands gripping the steering wheel of her craft, Y/N looked at the controls to see if hyperdrive was even possible and saw that it was not yet as she dodged another Imperial craft shooting at her.

"BB, you better hold onto your metal butt", she called out to her robotic companion.

BB-1 was a BB prototype similar to the R2-D2 design with the little robot being circular and having a teal color scheme; she heard the little robot let out a squeak as it rolled to secure itself to something.

Y/N hadn't thought of the Empire being on Dantooine but she thought wrong; she had been sent there by her Jedi Master, Anakin while Ahsoka (her fellow padawan/classmate) was sent to assist in the Clone Wars on the field. This intel was supposed to be useful to the Rebellion against the Clone War and Y/N knew if she was captured, that could only result in terrible things.

"BB", she said as she dodged a meteor in their path. "Connect to the database and upload what we got then delete everything."

BB let out a little beep followed by a whirling noise before getting to the task as she saw the Storm Troopers still on their path.

It was an agonizing five minutes of waiting for BB to upload the data, hearing an excited beep from BB as she had just winced as their craft was hit with another beam from the Storm Trooper craft just as she saw that hyperdrive was possible as the system alerted her of all the damage.

"Alright, BB!" she said, looking over her shoulder. "Now really hold on to your metal butt! It's going to be bumpy!"

BB let out a whirl of noises just as she hit the button for hyperdrive...

Her head was pounding as heard BB's concerned noises before she heard the beeping of the ship and opening her eyes with a gasp and looking around, it all rushing back to her of the system failure during hyperdrive, her trying to navigate as they were descending fast onto an unknown planet.

"Hold on, BB", she said, "let me... let me grab my-"

She grasped at her side where her lightsaber was clipped as she un-clipped herself from her seat, standing up as she winced from the headache; BB came towards her and beeped, Y/N patted its round little head as she went to the door of the ship, hitting the button to open it but saw wouldn't budge.

With a sigh, Y/N went to where her supplies pouch was and making sure she had plenty of water and food before activating her lightstaber, its white energy glowing as she stuck it into the metal of the door, doing her best of welding it open.

And with success she did as she managed to budge the door open to show a endless desert with hot air that hit her in the face; it reminded her of Tatooine with its similar landscape except she would say Tatooine had more rocky structures than this place.

"Where are we, BB?" she voiced as she stepped out.

The sun was hot against beige tunic and she frowned under the force of the heat, looking at BB before putting her hands on her hips.

"I guess let's do some exploring, huh?"

🪐

It was hard walking through all the sand, making sure she didn't stumble as she walked. And it was pretty boring considering there was just sand and oh, more damn sand; she wondered why it looked like the sand glittered at some points as her and BB continued their journey before her eyes widened at the sight of a large machine that reminded her of AT-AT Walkers except this one was larger in width and was... digging into the sand?

Either way, that had to mean that people were around as she began to jog towards there considering that it was so close.

BB rolled easily over the sand as they heard the sound of aircrafts and looking up, she saw two that resembled a bug, a dragonfly really. It hovered in the air as if it was looking over the machine and she squinted as she looked before beginning to feel the ground begin to shake violently to the point that she was knocked over.

Looking around, her first thought was a Nightwatcher worm and she looked at the machine as she begun to run with BB following closely; she held her lightstaber in her hand, her pouch bouncing as she ran with all her might to the machine.

Paul watched as the dust cloud grew as the sandworm quickly approached the Harvester, his father arguing that it was better to save the men on the Harvester than prioritize the Spice.

"Forget the Spice, we need those men", Leto argued and Paul's eyes squinted as he saw two figures running towards the Harvester.

"Look there", Paul pointed, his father leaned and looked.

"It's a girl and a... robot?" he said.

A.I. and anything of that nature had been banned in the Empire since the great war against A.I. so many centuries ago so it was curious as to who this was.

"How many men are on that?" his father asked.

"21", Shadout responded. "23 with the girl and the robot."

"We can only carry 6 on each ship", Paul mentioned.

"We'll make it work", his father confidently said.

🏜️

She was right that machine would draw in people as it was being evacuated as the sandworm was coming closer. BB was squealing as the sandworm was hot on their trail before she panted, "Go, BB! I'll hold it off!"

BB squealed and she said, "Go! I'll be there too!"

Turning around, she panted as she sucked in a breath and held her hand out, focusing her mind on the Force and its power as the creature closer. She felt vindicated as she saw the creature hit a invisible wall, panting and sweating as she held back the creature, the heat exhaustion getting to her as she tried her best to keep the creature back as black began to spot into her vision.

Suddenly, a hand gripped her shoulder and she looked to find two men: one around her age with handsome, pale features and dark curled hair, and an older man with greying hair.

"Come on, follow us", the older man said, she nodded.

With a final push of the Force, she ran behind the men onto one of the ships, stumbling but gleefully cheering once she saw BB there, who twirled in happiness and squealed.

"BB", she said, the robot rolling to her and she hugged it. "I told you I'd make it."

BB let out noises and she laughed.

"You understand that?" a man asked.

"Don't you?" she asked as she stood. "Where am I?"

"You're on Arrakis", a older man with thick dark hair and a facial beard said. "I'm Duke Leto of House Arrakis and this is my son, Paul. Do you mind telling me where you're from?"

"Arrakis? I've never heard of it", she mumbled, "I'm Y/N L/N from Naboo. What star system is this?"

"Canopus", Leto said and Y/N's eyes widened. "Where is this Naboo? I've never heard of such a planet in the Empire?"

Y/N now realized where she was as BB let out a concern noise. They weren't just in an entirely different solar system, they were in an entirely different galaxy.

#reader insert #x reader #chubby reader #dune #dune part ii #dune imagine #dune movie #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #jedi!reader #starwars

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sosa2imagines · 2 months ago

Text

Finding you again... Part 6

Warning- Angst.

Bucky was getting tired of Sam’s constant attempts to set him up with random women. It seemed like every conversation ended with a suggestion, an invitation, or some sly comment about how Bucky needed to ‘get out there.’

Today was no different.

Bucky rolled his eyes as Sam approached him with a sly grin, already anticipating the upcoming matchmaking suggestion. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, his annoyed expression a clear indicator of his lack of interest.

“Here comes the setup pitch again…” Bucky grumbled, sighing loudly.

“Come on, man,” Sam grinned, nudging Bucky’s arm as they walked down the street. “She’s a friend of Sarah’s. Smart, funny, and…”

“I’m not interested!” Bucky interrupted with a sigh, his patience wearing thin. He didn’t want to hurt Sam’s efforts, but he was exhausted. His mind was too preoccupied with you.

“Damn, Barnes, I’m just trying to help you out,” Sam huffed. “You’re not getting any younger, you know?”

Before Bucky could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

“Back off, Sam.”

Steve stepped in, his arms crossed and a knowing look on his face. “Bucky’s got enough on his plate without you throwing women at him.”

Sam rolled his eyes, playfully feigning offence at Steve's interjection. “Hey, I'm just trying to help a friend out. Bucky's been single for way too long, he needs some excitement in his life.”

“Sam please?”

Bucky shot his best friend a grateful glance, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “But don’t come crying to me when you’re lonely!”

Bucky only shook his head, but inside, he was relieved. Sam’s matchmaking attempts were the last thing he needed when his thoughts were consumed by you, the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.

A few days later, Bucky walked into the common area of their shared apartment, only to find Steve sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a screen with a grim expression.

“What’s up?” Bucky asked, leaning against the counter.

Steve hesitated before turning the laptop around. Bucky’s stomach dropped when he saw your image on the screen. His hands gripped the edge of the counter tightly.

Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as he looked at the image on the screen, the sight of you stirring a whirlwind of emotions within him. It was you, but you looked so different, so out of reach. A lump formed in his throat as he struggled to find the words.

“What is this?” he managed to croak out, his voice rough with a mix of confusion and anger.

“What the hell is this?” He asked again.

Steve’s voice was calm but firm. “I ran her picture through some old databases. Her name came up in connection with Hydra.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. “Hydra?” He couldn’t believe it. The mere thought made his blood run cold.

Steve hesitated for a moment, knowing how this news would affect Bucky. He knew the trauma, the pain, the guilt Bucky had endured during his time with Hydra.

Bucky's mind was spinning, the connection to Hydra making the situation all the more dire. He had hoped to never have to deal with them again, never have to face the demons of his past. And now you were involved?

“I thought you should know…” Steve said carefully.

Bucky didn’t waste another second. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out the door.

When he reached the coffee shop, you were wiping down the counter, your back turned to him. The bell above the door chimed, and you looked up, startled to see him standing there, his expression unreadable but intense.

“Bucky?” you asked cautiously.

He wasted no time. “We need to talk.”

You froze at the sound of his voice, the gravity of his words sending a chill down your spine. You racked your brain, trying to remember what you could possibly have done to warrant this encounter.

You swallowed hard and nodded, leading him to a quiet corner. He didn’t sit, and neither did you.

“About what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you set down the cloth in your hand.

“I know you were involved with Hydra!” he said bluntly.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. “Bucky, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was sharp, hurt lacing his words.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Pierce kidnapped me…” you finally admitted. “He forced me to work for them.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his blue eyes stormy. “And what exactly did you do for them?”

You looked away, unwilling to tell him the full truth. How could you? How could you look him in the eye and tell him you were the one assigned to take care of him? That you had witnessed his suffering, shared it, and even now carried the physical scars left behind?

“I... I did what I had to survive,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky's gaze remained fixed on you, his expression hardening with every word you spoke.

Bucky stepped closer, frustration radiating off him. “So you’re not gonna tell me the whole truth, huh?” His voice grew louder, angrier. “For all I know, you could still be one of them!”

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic and defensiveness taking hold. You had hoped to avoid this, avoid having to justify yourself to him. “I'm not one of them!” you shot back, your voice filled with both anger and desperation, “I never, was a part of them!”

Bucky's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you, searching for any sign of deceit. "How can I trust you?" he challenged, his voice thick with bitterness and pain.

His words cut deeper than any wound Pierce had ever inflicted. You stiffened, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “I would never…” you whispered, pain flashing in your eyes.

But Bucky didn’t hear you. He was already walking out the door, his heart pounding, regret gnawing at him the second the words left his mouth.

That night, Bucky tossed and turned in his bed, the same dream playing over and over again in his mind. The dim, sterile Hydra facility. The blood on his hands. The needle and thread as he stitched up a deep wound.

Only this time, the fog lifted just enough for him to see a face.

Your face.

Bucky bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding and his body drenched in sweat. He clutched at the sheets, trying to ground himself in reality, away from the nightmares that haunted his restless sleep.

“No…” he muttered under his breath, as if saying the word aloud would somehow dismiss the image that flashed in his mind.

But the truth was out now and his breath ragged, eyes wide with realization.

“You…” he whispered to himself. “It was you…”

Part 5- Part 7

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

@emerald-writes @caplanbuckybarnes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt @sebastians-love

@pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss @kpopgirlbtssvt @baw1066 @leviackerman2030 @chaestwbryz @eugene-emt-roe @chuiisi @fckwritersblock @chocolatereignz @danzer8705

@peaches1958 @sebbymybaby21 @ghalouha

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dmsinfosystem · 2 years ago

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Creating and Managing Database Connections in CMS

Specifically in content management systems (CMS), databases play an essential part in contemporary web development. A database connection in cms acts as an interface between a web application and a database server, enabling data retrieval and manipulation for the application. In this article, we are going to discuss the basics of creating and managing database connections in CMS by considering best practices and potential pitfalls.

Non-technical users can produce and manage material on websites with the use of content management systems. A CMS's efficiency, however, depends upon its capacity for access to information and manipulation. CMS developers must have a thorough understanding of database connections to ensure the system's data storage and retrieval function effectively. Without a properly configured database connection, a CMS cannot retrieve and display content correctly. Additionally, CMS developers must be proficient in database optimization to ensure quick loading times and efficient performance.

What is a database connection?

A database connection is a communication medium between a web application and a database server. It makes it possible for the application to carry out database activities including insertion, updating, and retrieval of data. Database connections use specific protocols and APIs to facilitate data exchange between the application and the database.

Types of database connections

There are two primary types of database connections: persistent and non-persistent. Persistent connections remain open between the application and the database, even after the application has finished executing. Non-persistent connections, on the other hand, are closed once the application finishes executing.

Persistent connections are faster, as they eliminate the overhead of establishing a new connection every time the application needs to access the database. However, persistent connections can lead to scalability issues and are not suitable for all types of applications.

Creating a database connection

Creating a database connection in a CMS involves several steps. First, the developer must identify the database server's hostname, port number, and database name. The next step is to choose a programming language and database driver that is compatible with the CMS.

For example, a PHP-based CMS may use the MySQLi driver to access a MySQL database. Once the developer has identified the required parameters and drivers, they can create a connection object and use it to execute database operations.

Also Read: Creating and Managing User Roles and Permissions in CMS

Best practices for managing database connections

Effective management of database connections is critical to ensuring the CMS operates smoothly and can handle large volumes of traffic. Some best practices for managing database connections include:

Closing connections when not in use:

Persistent connections may cause scalability problems and server resource consumption. Developers should close connections when they aren't in use to prevent this.

Putting connection pooling into monitoring connection usage:

To find and fix performance problems, developers should monitor connection usage. A sudden increase in connection usage, for instance, might point to a problem with the application server or database server. Connection pooling is a technique that involves reusing current database connections to cut down on the overhead of creating new connections.

Monitoring connection usage:

Developers should monitor connection usage to identify and address performance issues. For example, a sudden spike in connection usage may indicate a problem with the application or database server.

Potential pitfalls of database connections

Database connections are necessary for CMS development, but they can also lead to security flaws. SQL injection attacks, for instance, can happen when malicious users insert malicious code into a database query. Developers should use prepared statements to stop injection attacks and sanitise user input to prevent this from happening.

Conclusion

In conclusion, database connections play a vital role in the functionality of a CMS, as they allow the system to retrieve and store data efficiently. These connections, however, might result in performance problems and even breaches of security if improperly managed. Developers must therefore be aware of the many kinds of database connections, including permanent and non-persistent connections, as well as the best practices for handling them.

One potential pitfall that developers must be aware of is connection pooling, which can lead to resource depletion and a decrease in performance if not implemented correctly. The execution of prepared queries and input validation are only two additional measures that developers must take to stop SQL injection attacks.

Developers may build trustworthy, secure, and scalable online applications that satisfy the expectations of their customers by comprehending the various connection types, putting best practices for connection management into practice, and being aware of potential dangers.

#content management system #cms database #managing database connections #creating and managing database connections #cms website development

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 10 months ago

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Hell 2 Pay

℣ Pairing: Vox X angelic!reader

℣ Summary: A naïve angel descends to Hell looking for Vagina. Finds Vox instead.

℣ Content notes: Voyeurism, first time for everything, explicit sexual content,use of a vibrator, guided masturbation, loss of virginity, creampie, Vox being Vox, pet names: mostly sweetheart, babydoll and baby, reader is a girl, reader has a pussy, reader has a name and it's a fucking stupid one.

A sequel to Heaven Spent

Taglist

@it-gal888 @jurijyuu @bishiglomper @brunette-bet @bapple117

@diffidentphantom @leonotlara @redvexillum @nyx-umbrakinesis

“You sure it’s okay for me to come to this with you?” you asked, quietly, as you walked out to the limo, holding Vox’s arm.

“Baby, everyone who is anyone is going to this party.” Vox gestured wide with his talons, an arc of electricity between his fingers. “I hear even Lucifer himself is on the guest list. If this friend of yours is still down here, and she’s as powerful as you say she is, she’ll be there.”

In the days since you’d met Vox, you’d come no closer to finding Vagina, though not through lack of trying. You’d searched every database Vox had access to for her name, scoured security feeds and drone footage from across the city looking for a glimpse of her aquiline nose. You’d searched until your eyes watered, until Vox came round to your console each evening and told you it was time to stop for the night. To sleep.

Half the time you found yourself passing out against him in the elevator on the way to the penthouse, waking up in his arms as he carried you to bed. It was embarrassing to admit how much you liked the sensation- the fact that he lifted you almost effortlessly, strong arms cradling you against his chest. A kiss goodnight was as much as you managed to give him, though he didn’t press for more, his tired voice a gentle rasp against your ear as he told you to rest up for the cameras the next day.

In exchange, you’d taken the job as spokesperson for Angelic Security, and spent your days in fitting rooms and in front of cameras, chirping out your lines with as much enthusiasm as you could muster.

You thought you’d hit a dead end, until Vox had arrived on set one afternoon with a change of costume for you; an off-the shoulder floor length pleated gown with an empire waist, and a hair ornament that made your breath catch when you looked at it, beads of glossy pink glass, shaped like pomegranate seeds, spilled in a cluster and connected by fine gold thread. The extravagance of it had made you nervous, but when Vox showed you your reflection in the mirror, you’d had to cover your mouth to stop yourself squealing with delight. You looked important and refined. Like a princess. And the look Vox gave you told you he thought so too.

You bit your lip. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“And why would I be embarrassed to have a beautiful girl like you on my arm, huh?” Vox’s talons squeezed gently around your shoulder, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

Vox’s business partner and roommate Valentino got into the limousine first, stooping to get into the spacious cabin inside, followed by his date, a pale pink spider demon who was only a little shorter than he was. Both of them were dressed for the event; Valentino with a silk top-hat in the place of his usual hat, and the spider demon in a tailored satin-lined jacket that hung open at the chest, no shirt or waistcoat underneath.

“This party better have an open bar, that’s all I’m saying-” the spider demon paused to look up as you climbed into the limo after him. “Who’s the skirt?”

“Angel Dust, this is Angelic Security’s newest spokesperson and my date, Ari. Ari, this is Angel Dust, Val’s-” Vox squinted, a glance at the big moth. “-most valued employee.”

“Oh.” Your grip on Vox’s arm tightened as you stared at Angel Dust. His soft pink fur didn’t make him look demonic, certainly. “Are you really an angel?”

“That depends who ya ask, toots.” Angel winked lasciviously.

“A lot of people have seen his pearly gates, that’s for sure.” Valentino wrapped a possessive arm around Angel, his long fingers sinking into the chest fluff that peeked from Angel’s half-open jacket. “But rest assured my cariño here is just as soaked in sin as the rest of us. Other things, too.” Valentino grinned, flashing a gold tooth, and you watched as Angel’s smile dropped fractionally.

“Alright, alright, save it for the afterparty, jeez.” Vox waved the air in front of him, opening a chilled compartment in the table between the four of you and pulling out a tray of drinks in a puff of condensation.

“Oh, thank fuck. My thirty four inch hero.” Angel reached out with two of his arms, took a glass in each, and dumped them unceremoniously into his open mouth. Vox and Valentino exchanged a look.

“I’d better not have to send anyone to scrape him off the floor this time,” groused Vox, his mouth sliding to the bottom corner of his screen as he watched Angel down another drink.

Valentino laughed. “He’ll be good tonight. Won’t you, cariño?” Valentino’s fingers slid up Angel’s neck, tilting his head to force eye contact.

Angel rolled his eyes. “Yes, daddy.”

Vox held open the door of the limo to let his other business partner, Velvette, in as she arrived. “No plus one tonight?”

“I’m meeting someone there.” Velvette ducked under Vox’s arm and climbed into her seat, phone in the palm of one hand as she grabbed a flute of champagne from the tray and took a sip, making a face. “One of my all-time least favourite people just died.”

“Ohh?” Valentino looked at her over the rims of his heart-shaped glasses. “That fashion editor bitch you hate?”

“That’s the one.” Velvette grinned at him. “I said I’d give her a job if she let me piss in her mouth.”

Vox snorted, pulling the door shut. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Of course I’m fucking kidding,” Velvette’s gaze went back to her phone. “I’m not giving her a job.”

You snuggled up to Vox’s side as the limo wound its way through Pentagram’s streets. Little by little, you were starting to suspect that Vox’s associates were not nice people.

You were afraid that the five of you would be overdressed until you actually arrived at the party, helped out of the limousine by stately-looking demons, and ascended the steps to the venue. Everyone there looked majestic, in white tie or glittering gowns, tall bird-headed demons mingling with a practical menagerie of others. You found yourself clinging tight to Vox’s arm, and were gratified to feel him shift his grip, his claws sliding down your back to your hip, pulling you against him. The quiet thrum of his body was a comfort, and you grounded yourself with it.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked, his voice a murmur in your ear as the attendants at the door checked his invite and waved the two of you through, Valentino and Angel behind you.

You nodded, though in truth you were still a little intimidated. A bird-headed demon thrumming with power floated past you, accompanied by a pair of hellhounds. “It’s just… sparkly, that’s all.”

“Me and Val are gonna mingle, so take your time looking around. I’ll be right here if you need me. And-” Vox sighed, straightening the lapel of his jacket, the pocket square he wore deep pink to match your hair ornament. “-this should go without saying, but you’re here on my invite, so I’m responsible for your actions. Try not to get yourself in trouble, okay?”

“I won’t.” You looked down, your face hot, your fingers squeezing Vox’s upper arm. “I-” you swallowed, gathering your courage, before raising your head, and planting a single kiss on the edge of his screen. “Thank you, Vox. For everything.”

Vox gave you a look that was meant to be suave. “Anytime, babydoll.”

“So, uh, what are you looking for, exactly?” Angel swayed after you with a backwards glance at Valentino and Vox, and you stopped to let him catch up. “Seems like you’re pretty bent outta shape about it.”

“Vagina,” you answered, your voice soft as you scanned the room from your vantage by the canapé table, dazzled by the reflected light of diamonds and rubies round the throats of the female attendees as you looked for her face. The grey skin, like yours, the aquiline nose, the short white hair. You looked and saw nothing, an ache in your heart.

Angel grinned crookedly. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t help ya much there. Any particular type of vagina or are you not picky? Cuz I do know some people.”

“No.” You shook your head, frustrated. “Vagina is my friend.”

“If you say so.” Angel sighed, grabbing a drink from a passing attendant. “I’m more of a penis man myself, but if I meet any vaginas I’ll send em your way. Later, toots.”

And just like that, you were alone in the crowd, still looking for Vagina's familiar face.

You saw her, across the room, a glimpse through the crowd that had you moving closer to check that you weren’t hallucinating. Her hair was longer than you remembered, a large red satin bow at the back, and she was missing an eye, but you would know that face anywhere. Hope crested in your chest. She was here. She was alive. You could go back. You could take her hand and go back to Heaven and things would go back just the way they were.

“Vagina!” Unable to wait a second longer, you rushed towards her, calling her name, dodging a waiter and a stuffy-looking pair of owl demons.

“Hey!” A hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks and you looked up to see a tall blonde girl in a ruby-colored tuxedo, frowning as she looked down at you. “Excuse me! That’s my girlfriend you’re talking to there, you can’t just-”

“Charlie.” Vagina joined you, a soft touch on the tall girl’s arm. “It’s okay. I know her. Can you give us a minute?”

“Oh.” Charlie gave a small smile, looking between you and Vagina. “You know her. Of course you know her! Okay. I’ll just… give you guys some space.”

“Vagina!” Your mouth felt dry, tears beading in the corners of your eyes as Vagina steered you behind a pillar in an unpopulated corner of the ballroom. “Oh thank goodness. You’re safe! Your eye-” you reached out. What had happened to her?

“Stop calling me that.” Vagina pushed your hand away with a scowl. “It’s Vaggie now.”

“Sorry.” You drew away, your back against the pillar. “But it’s okay! I’m here now!”

“Look.” Vagina, or rather Vaggie, sighed, her one remaining eye closing. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you should go. It’s dangerous here.”

What? The world seemed to stop around you as you stared at her. Of course- she didn’t want to put you in danger. You straightened your back, pulling yourself to your full height, feet a little wobbly in the high-heeled shoes Vox had given you. “I’m an exorcist, just like you.”

“Areola…” Vaggie scrunched her nose. “You’re a janitor. You clean the showers. The only weapon you know is mop.”

You persevered, an ache in the back of your throat. “I came to save you.” That had to count for something, didn’t it? You had come all the way down from Heaven, malformed wings or no, you had risked your life, your immortal soul against the forces of Hell, for Vaggie. She had to be able to see that.

Your statement seemed to have the opposite effect to what you intended, Vaggie’s expression darkening. “Why? I never asked for your help. And I know for sure Lute didn’t send you.”

“Because you’re my best friend.” My only friend, you thought, your bottom lip quivering. “That… that counts for something, right?”

“Oh, for crying out-” Vaggie buried her face in one hand, giving a deep sigh before she looked up at you again. “Let’s set the record straight here. We weren’t friends. We were coworkers.”

You stared, unable to speak, every word out of Vaggie’s mouth like a knife to your chest. All the times you had brought out iced drinks to her when she’d been training, all those times she’d listened to you talk about your day. That had been friendship, hadn’t it? Real friendship? Your hands shook. “But-” you managed to squeak out, feeling like you were falling, as if the floor of the ballroom was dropping deep beneath you.

Vaggie’s gaze went past you, to the milling crowd of dancers, and the tall girl in red. “I don’t need to be saved,” she said. “Go home, Areola.”

It was all you could do not to burst into tears as you watched Vaggie's retreating back, a lump in your throat as she walked away from you, red ribbon bright in her white hair.

“Everything okay?” Vox seemed to sense something was up when you rejoined him, pulling you close, his voice low.

Silently, you shook your head, tears hot and painful in the corners of your eyes. You knew that if you said too much you’d be bawling right in the middle of the dance floor. “Take me home?”

Vox paused a second, watching you, then nodded, slowly. “Car’s on the way. I’ll give the others a call on the way back.”

In the privacy of the limo, you buried your face against Vox's chest, gratitude welling in you as your throat tightened. “I’m sorry, I… I know you had things you wanted to do tonight, I don’t want to be a burden.” You rambled, swallowing a sob.

“Val and Velv will do just fine pissing on people without me,” said Vox, his tone wry.

“Are you my friend, Vox?” you hiccuped, leaning into his chest. “Do you even like me?”

“What kinda dumbass question is that?” Vox’s arm tightened around you. “Someone said I wasn’t your friend?”

“N-no. I just-” your bottom lip trembled. “I found her.” You felt your voice crack. “She said- she said she wasn’t my friend. She said she’d never-” a small sob escaped your lips, and you felt like you were falling again.

“Hey, babydoll.” Vox’s talons caught the underside of your jaw, tilting your head up to face him, until you were staring into his red eyes, the view made blurry by the tears in yours. “Hey,” he repeated, his voice dropping a half octave, and he kissed you, softly, lips brushing yours, fingertips up over your jaw, over your cheek. “You’re my girl. You’re mine. No-one in this city gets to make you doubt that, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you found yourself on top of him, your body clinging to his as if he were the only solid thing in the world.

“I know something that will definitely make you feel better.” Vox reached into a compartment under one of the seats and pulled out a small object; a tapered, bulbous cylinder in VoxTek silver, cyan light shining from its contours.

“What is that?”

“Personal massager. Top of the range. Fully submersible, adjustable frequency and torque. Self-warming, body-grade silicone sheathe.”

You glanced up at Vox’s face. This was more than empty commercial copy, a flash of pride in his eyes. “You… helped design it, didn’t you?”

Vox quirked an eyebrow. “If I say yes, will you let me use it on you?”

You felt your face heat. “W-when you say personal massager…”

“I figure a few good orgasms are just what you need right now,” said Vox, eyes half-lidded, grin toothy.

“A few!?” You felt the pulse at the apex of your legs as you remembered what just one had felt like, Vox’s leg between your thighs.

“Lay back, baby,” Vox practically purred. “Let me take care of you.”

You hesitated, a little. Letting this happen to you was clearly not a thing that a good and chaste angel should do.

But what had being a good girl ever got you? You had been good, every day of your life; you had worked hard, and abstained, and been modest and never complained. You’d put yourself in danger, for someone you had assumed was your friend. And what had you gained? Aside from Vaggie’s disdain, the Lieutenant’s disdain, the disdain of every angel who saw your malformed wings and assumed you had done something to deserve it? Maybe this was a part of the grand plan the higher angels were always talking about, paid for in full with your deformity.

Who would even be waiting for you, if you went back to Heaven? Maybe you were meant to fall from grace, here, in Hell, in the arms of the one person who seemed to actually like you.

You placed your hand over Vox’s, fingertips over his blue talons. “I’ve never…” you said.

“I know that, baby.” Vox’s other hand was at the hem of your gown, pulling it up over your calves, over your knees, the fabric a silky whisper against your skin. “All you have to do is lay there and hold your legs open nice and wide for me, let me take care of the rest. Trust me.”

“O-okay.” You closed your eyes, feeling Vox push your skirt up over your thighs, your back flush with his chest as he pulled you into the position he wanted.

“Knees apart, sweetheart,” Vox murmured into your ear, his voice sending a shiver through your core.

You choked back a sob as you parted your thighs for him; one leg slung over his thigh, the other half-bent on the leather seat under you.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl,” Vox rasped, talons tracing thin lines over your knee, your quad, your inner thigh. He trailed the vibrator along the same path, its surface warm as skin as it shivered against your flesh. “I’m gonna make you feel so good you forget everything else that happened tonight.”

You turned your head, pressing the side of your face against Vox’s shoulder, and squeezed your eyes closed as you felt his hands ascend to the apex of your thighs, fingertips teasing at the lacy edge of your panties.

“Hey now, don’t be shy. I can feel how wet you are for me already,” said Vox, his fingers continuing to move. As if to demonstrate his point, he pressed two fingertips to the gusset of your panties, pressing your sex through the fabric in a languid up-down motion, then lifted them to your mouth, brushing the wetness that had seeped through your panties onto your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth, letting Vox slip his fingers inside, and were rewarded with a low groan from Vox as he smeared your tongue with the taste of your own arousal, musky and slick. “My good girl,” he growled, his other hand pushing your panties to the side. “So fucking obedient.”

He teased the vibrator against your outer lips, its setting still a low shiver as he moved it, smearing the arousal that leaked from you up towards your mons and then back down again, his fingers in your mouth echoing the slow, deliberate action. You shifted, and Vox parted your sex with his fingers, the vibrator against your inner lips, then up over the hood of your clitoris. It felt good, better than something this sinful had any right to feel, and you moaned around Vox’s fingers.

“See, baby? Didn’t I tell you I would make it better?” Vox exuded smugness as he kept the vibrator moving, and even if he hadn’t had his fingers in your mouth you weren’t sure you could have formed a coherent response.

Tears slid hot down your cheeks, your mascara running as Vox slid the vibrator over your sex, the shiver it had started with becoming a low thrum as he increased the power. He murmured sweet nothings as he slid it over your inner lips, the barest touch on your clitoris like a beam of heavenly light that had you forgetting that you were in the back of a limo with your sex spread open on a man’s hand.

“Tell me you want it inside,” said Vox, voice low as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, his other hand guiding the vibrator down a little, the thrum of sensation round your entrance, teasing at untouched flesh.

“Vox,” you gasped, as each tilt of his hand brought an answering shiver from your body.

“I wanna hear it, babydoll,” coaxed Vox, his second hand on your inner thigh now, spreading you further apart. “Tell me to fuck you with the toy.”

You swallowed, the concentric circles he was drawing around your entrance at war with the mortification you felt at using such crude language. “P-penetrate me-” you managed, to a soft chuckle from Vox.

“You’re just about the cutest girl I’ve ever fucked, you know that sweetheart?” he said, as he dipped the narrower end of the vibrator into you, just the tip. The sensation made you catch your breath, the thrum of it fluttering against your nerves. “Here you are, wide open for me, my toy in your sweet little pussy-” as if to demonstrate the point, Vox pushed the vibrator in another half inch, then out again, drawing a lewd little whimper from your lips. “-and you can’t even say the word fuck.”

“S-sorry,” you stammered, screwing your eyes shut.

“Don’t be sorry, Ari.” Vox’s lips were in your hair, kissing the beads from your hair ornament aside as he rocked the vibrator in and out of you, his other hand at your sex now, index and ring finger either side of your clit. “You’re my sweet baby girl. All for me, aren’t you?”

“Vox,” you whined, tears threatening to form in your eyes again. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?”

“Y-yes,” you squeaked

“Tell me again. I take good care of my things, babydoll.”

“I’m yours,” you repeated for him. Yours, yours, all yours. And each time your reward was that soft affection, that sound of approval, Vox’s thumb stroking the sensitive nub of your clit, making you squeak, and cry out, all the while the vibrator penetrating you in a shallow rhythm, slipping easily in and out of the slickness of your core. It wasn’t as if anyone else wanted you anyway.

“You’re close,” Vox purred against your ear, and you could feel that he was right; the sensation of his thumb on your clit the most vivid thing in your mind, along with the thrum of the toy against your inner walls. It felt like you were floating, pleasure your only compass, as Vox’s touch urged you to your destination. “Gonna cum with my toy inside, aren’t you?”

You whimpered an affirmative as you crested the wave, your core pulsing, twitching around the intrusion of the toy as Vox’s thumb stilled on your clit, pressing down but not moving.

Vox slipped a finger inside you with a groan, the width of the digit along with the toy bringing with it another round of little quakes. “Cumming hard for me babydoll?”

You gave a mortified little whimper, and Vox’s thumb pressed hard on your clit again, the sensation bringing more aftershocks as you found yourself fluttering round the toy and Vox’s finger.

“Holy shit, you’re still going,” Vox muttered, something like excitement creeping into his voice. “Hope you’re planning on cumming on my dick that hard.”

“I’m not planning!” you protested, to Vox’s indulgent grin.

“Course you’re not, sweetheart.” Vox’s voice was low as he dragged the tip of the vibrator from your still-twitching hole and up over your clit, its setting the gentle shiver that it had started on.

It was both too much and not enough, a flame on nerves already afire, oversensitive and quivering. “Vox!” you cried, hand going to his wrist, and he lifted the toy from your flesh, leaving you aching with its absence.

“Too much?” he asked, a prideful edge to his voice.

“Y-yes,” you admitted, breath coming in fast little pants through your lips.

“You wanna try using it yourself?” Vox pressed the toy into the palm of your hand. “I can talk you through it.”

You nodded, hesitant, and Vox took your hand in his, guiding the toy in your hand back to your slick and quivering sex. “Don’t worry about the settings. I can control those for you. Just press the tip here.”

The toy quivered in your hand as you pressed its bulbous end against your engorged clitoris. A stroke had your eyes fluttering closed, breath catching in your throat as you felt sheer, unmitigated pleasure. You drew back, swallowing saliva before you ventured another touch, a whimper on your lips.

Vox pushed two fingers into you, not the teasing in-out he had done with the toy, but in deep and curling, pressing something sweet at the apex. You drew the toy against your clitoris again, more steadily this time, feeling your body pull taut, a soft, birdlike noise in your throat as Vox’s fingers bullied the tender spot inside you.

“You need a little more power, babydoll?” Vox asked, and you only had to nod for the vibration to intensify, each moment threatening at too much before you drew your hand back, gasping as his fingers squelched in and out of you. “You should hold it there, hold it down, so you can cum round my fingers. Yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed, voice small, bracing yourself for the sensation as you pressed the toy once more against sensitive flesh. The quiver of the toy built into a tremble, the bliss of its touch into something almost painful, and you found yourself biting your lip to not cry out. You couldn’t keep going; it was too much, too much-

“Keep going,” Vox murmured, a light pressure on the back of your hand. You nodded, keeping the quivering toy held against the most sensitive part of you, an insensate noise on your lips as every muscle in your body seemed to shake, your legs drawn wide as they would go, riding bliss upon bliss upon bliss.

“Attagirl,” growled Vox, plunging his fingers in deep, and you were hit by a climax you hadn’t known to expect, a noise from you that was neither dignified nor sexy as your body spasmed, curling in, your thighs closing round Vox’s hands. “Attagirl,” he repeated, as your walls fluttered round his fingers, the vibrator still purring against your overstimulated clit. “Be a good girl and cum again for me now.”

“T-too much,” you whimpered, the rumble of the toy against your nerves threatening to blot out all other sensation, all thought, all language. “Vox, I can’t-”

“You can,” he encouraged, his hand guiding yours, keeping your hand in place, keeping the vibrator in place as you whined and bucked your hips. “See, I’m a very good judge of character, and I wouldn’t give you anything you couldn’t handle. I think you’re a good girl, and you’re gonna cum round my fingers when I ask you.”

“Vox!” your voice was starting to feel hoarse from the moaning, and the curl of Vox’s fingers inside you made you scream. You were still twitching from the previous orgasm as Vox pulled you inexorably to the next one.

“Tell me I’m right. Tell me you’re my good girl,” Vox pushed.

“I’m-” you started but were unable to finish as you crested the wave, pleasure flooding you, leaving you twitching senselessly round Vox’s fingers again, your back arching, thighs squeezing, head back. Vox stole the rest of your words with a kiss, his strange lips against yours as he cupped your chin with a hand coated with your arousal.

Warmth welled in your chest as the kiss deepened, Vox’s tongue twining with yours, the toy stilling as it powered down in your hand. Vox drew his fingers from you, wiping the slick on your bare thigh.

“Doing better now?” Vox asked as you broke the kiss, the limo slowing as it pulled up to the Vee tower.

“Yes,” you admitted, looking down at your rumpled dress, the heeled sandals still on your feet, anywhere but Vox’s smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, babydoll,” said Vox, smug as you’d ever seen him. “Let’s say you and I continue this in my room, huh?”

Your legs felt like jelly, but it still surprised you when rather than help you up, Vox simply scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the private elevator that went straight to the penthouse suite, taking the time it took for the elevator to ascend to unlace and remove your shoes, along with Vox’s jacket and tie.

You stroked the sides of Vox’s wide screen as you kissed him, and he carried you unerringly up the small flight of stairs that led to the mezzanine of his living space and through his bedroom door. He spilled you forward, onto the bed, and you sat back, your hands behind you, looking up at him.

Vox was looking at you with unashamed, undisguised desire, two lines of red from the corner of his mouth as he crawled onto the bed after you, pulling your knees apart to kneel between them, your dress once more riding up over your thighs.

“Do you want me?” you asked, quietly, part of you afraid of the answer. “You’re not… you’re not just doing this to make me feel better, right?”

Vox caught your hand by the wrist and pulled it to the fly of his tuxedo pants. Your eyes widened at what you felt there; his erection, hot and stiff and straining at the fabric. “What do you think, babydoll?” He pulled your hand more firmly against his hard-on, rutting against your palm with a movement of his hips, another line of red from his mouth as he did so. “Because I think you should take that pretty dress off for me and let me fuck you into the pillows til you scream.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Gratitude flooded you, your hands going to the clasps of your dress. You found yourself fumbling with it, your fingers shaking as Vox watched.

You failed to undo the same clasp on your side three times before Vox intervened, leaning into your personal space, a gentle hand on yours. “Lemme get that for you, sweetheart,” he said, voice soft enough to set you blushing as he undid the clasp with ease, his fingers finding the zip and easing it slowly down your side.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your cheeks hot, then, because it felt right, “I love you.”

Vox paused, his fingers under the shoulder of your dress, and you felt doubt rise to the surface again.

You looked at him, biting your lip. “I’m sorry, was that too soon? Am I not meant to say that?”

Vox lowered his face to your shoulderblade as he pulled off the shoulder of the dress, screen against skin, kissing his way down your back. “You are three orgasms too far in to be worrying about shit like that,” he said, in a tone that reminded you exactly what each of those had felt like. “You can say whatever you like to me, babydoll.”

“And you won’t leave?”

You felt Vox chuckle, a soft exhalation of breath against your back as he shimmied your dress down over your hips, hooking his fingers through the sides of your panties and pulling them down with it. “Does this look like leaving to you?” he asked, and you gulped, feeling exposed as you were naked under him, a prickling over your skin that had nothing to do with the temperature. “Tell me you love me again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I love you,” you said, your eyes fluttering closed as Vox maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, lifting your hips a little until the bulge of his erection pressed your ass. “I’m yours.”

“Holy fuck, you’re beautiful, Ari,” Vox’s voice was thick with arousal as one finger stroked your exposed labia, still dripping slick from your adventures in the limo. “You’re gonna let me fuck that beautiful little white feathered pussy of yours, aren’t you?”

“Mm.” You nodded, nose to the sheets.

“Say it for me, babydoll,” said Vox, voice low, his clothed erection still pressing against you.

“I’m gonna let you…” you paused, breathless, searching for a way to paraphrase Vox’s words. “…take me,” you finished lamely. It was ludicrous, really; what you were about to do was something much worse than swearing, and plenty of angels swore, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Still not gonna swear, huh?” Vox’s hands were gentle over your hips, his voice more amused than annoyed.

Silently, you shook your head.

“That’s okay.” Vox gave your ass a reassuring squeeze. “Still gonna fuck you, though.”

You waited, your face pressed to the soft sheets, your sex presented to Vox, as he unzipped himself and lined himself up. The tip of his cock was warm, running hot like the rest of his body, unfamiliar but not unpleasant as he slid it between your outer lips, gathering slick. You whined as he stroked it against your clit, still oversensitive, and found yourself clutching the sheets between your fingers, your body tensing.

“Ari.” Vox curled himself over you, a kiss between your shoulderblades. “Relax for me, yeah?”

“S-sorry.” You squeezed your eyes shut again, and felt his hand cover yours.

“Don’t be sorry. Just trust me.” Vox’s glans slid over your clit again, back and forth, and you moaned into the sheets at the sensation. “You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you whimpered, and Vox lined himself up with your entrance again, the head of his cock teasing it just as the toy had. “That… that feels nice, Vox.”

“Good girl.” Vox pushed himself a little further into you. His cock was wider than the toy or his fingers had been, bringing with it a stretch that had you panting open mouthed into his bedsheets. Another inch and he was pressing the sweetness inside you that his fingers had found, drawing another whimper from you.

“Can you feel me?” he coaxed, pushing further in. “Can you feel me inside?”

His cock inside you was an ache that stirred your guts and left your eyelids fluttering closed, his big hands clasped over yours. I love you, I love you, I love you, lay heavy and sticky as treacle on your tongue as your face pressed into the high-threadcount cotton of his pillows. “It's big,” you murmured. You buried your face deeper in the pillows. “I’m yours.”

“All mine, babygirl,” Vox answered, pushing himself into you a little further, moving one hand onto your hip as leverage. “Fuck, you're doing so good. Taking me so well.”

His knees between your shins, your face to the sheets, you found yourself helpless to do anything but accept him in, soft chirps of pleasure escaping your lips as he stretched your insides to his form.

“Shit, you are incredible. Made for me.” Vox pulled out a little and thrust back in with a snap of his hips, his balls rocking against your clit as he bottomed out again. “You’re gonna look so pretty once you’re all fucked out and filled with my cum.”

You called his name as he pumped his cock into you, one hand reaching round to stroke at your engorged clit, each snap of his hips an obscene squelch, slick dripping down your trembling thighs, his cock both hitting divinity and burning with its stretch, the apex of each thrust leaving you deliciously, sinfully full.

“Be a good girl and cum for me now,” Vox ground out, fingers sliding a cruel back-and-forth across your oversensitive clit, the intensity of the sensation almost painful, making tears bead in your eyes. “Cum on my cock, babydoll, milk me dry.”

You didn’t have words anymore, only sensation as Vox worked you, his voice gentle and coaxing as his hips set a pace that had you crying out into the pillows, fingers on your clitoris first slick pressure and then light as he brought sparking blue energy to his fingertips, moving over your skin and alighting on nerves. You were giving soft cries into the bedding, your throat hoarse as Vox hit sweetness upon sweetness, your body aching with the intensity of it, a string pulled tight, tight, tight.

“You’re close,” Vox told you, words penetrating your brain somehow, his screen pressing close and static-y as his hips and hand kept the rhythm. “Gonna cum with you, okay?”

You nodded, no words, only a string pulled tight, tight, tight as you felt him swell inside you somehow, and a flash of hot, white bliss hit you, your body clenching around him as he pulsed inside you. He was filling you with his seed, a pulse of warmth inside you, and then another, and then another as your walls twitched tight around him.

“Fuck. Ari. So fucking good.” A groan escaped Vox that sounded not unlike a modem noise, his chest against your back, and the lights flickered off, plunging the both of you into darkness.

“Vox?” you asked, in a small, hoarse voice, the only light in the room the dim blue of his screen, his arms wrapping around your chest. His cock, mortifyingly, still inside you. You touched his arm, the back of his hand. “Vox?”

Vox gave an affirmative grunt. “Gimme a minute, sweetheart. Just took out the power in the block- shit.”

You swallowed, a vague feeling of guilt welling in your stomach. “Was it my fault?”

“It happens sometimes, babydoll. Don’t worry about it.” Vox pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Emergency power kicks in in another thirty seconds.”

“So you don’t need to go?”

“No, I don’t need to go.” Vox breathed out, a shuddering exhalation. “Baby, you made me cum so hard I caused a power cut. That means; a) I am not going anywhere in a hurry, so right now I can give you the care and adoration you deserve, and b) you can stop being so damn insecure about it. You got that?”

“I think so.” You found yourself smiling, almost despite yourself, as Vox pulled out of you, his seed dribbling out over your thighs, and rolled you over to face him, your face against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head, the beads in your hair ornament clacking as his lips nudged them. You were dirty now. Ruined. Willingly full of a demon’s seed. Heaven would never take someone like you back.

But Vox’s arms were around you in the low light as the emergency power came on, his screen casting strange shadows across the sheets. And he made you feel warm and happy and safe, in a way no-one in Heaven ever had. You were his. He took good care of his things. In his bed, basking in the afterglow of the orgasm you had shared, was the happiest you had ever been.

#vox smut #vox x reader smut #vox x reader #vox x you smut #vox x you #vox x oc

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justinspoliticalcorner · 3 months ago

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Vittoria Elliott at Wired:

Elon Musk’s takeover of federal government infrastructure is ongoing, and at the center of things is a coterie of engineers who are barely out of—and in at least one case, purportedly still in—college. Most have connections to Musk and at least two have connections to Musk’s longtime associate Peter Thiel, a cofounder and chairman of the analytics firm and government contractor Palantir who has long expressed opposition to democracy. WIRED has identified six young men—all apparently between the ages of 19 and 24, according to public databases, their online presences, and other records—who have little to no government experience and are now playing critical roles in Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) project, tasked by executive order with “modernizing Federal technology and software to maximize governmental efficiency and productivity.” The engineers all hold nebulous job titles within DOGE, and at least one appears to be working as a volunteer. The engineers are Akash Bobba, Edward Coristine, Luke Farritor, Gautier Cole Killian, Gavin Kliger, and Ethan Shaotran. None have responded to requests for comment from WIRED. Representatives from OPM, GSA, and DOGE did not respond to requests for comment. Already, Musk’s lackeys have taken control of the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) and General Services Administration (GSA), and have gained access to the Treasury Department’s payment system, potentially allowing him access to a vast range of sensitive information about tens of millions of citizens, businesses, and more. On Sunday, CNN reported that DOGE personnel attempted to improperly access classified information and security systems at the US Agency for International Development (USAID), and that top USAID security officials who thwarted the attempt were subsequently put on leave. The AP reported that DOGE personnel had indeed accessed classified material. “What we're seeing is unprecedented in that you have these actors who are not really public officials gaining access to the most sensitive data in government,” says Don Moynihan, a professor of public policy at the University of Michigan. “We really have very little eyes on what's going on. Congress has no ability to really intervene and monitor what's happening because these aren't really accountable public officials. So this feels like a hostile takeover of the machinery of governments by the richest man in the world.”

[...] “To the extent these individuals are exercising what would otherwise be relatively significant managerial control over two very large agencies that deal with very complex topics,” says Nick Bednar, a professor at University of Minnesota’s school of law, “it is very unlikely they have the expertise to understand either the law or the administrative needs that surround these agencies.” Sources tell WIRED that Bobba, Coristine, Farritor, and Shaotran all currently have working GSA emails and A-suite level clearance at the GSA, which means that they work out of the agency’s top floor and have access to all physical spaces and IT systems, according a source with knowledge of the GSA’s clearance protocols. The source, who spoke to WIRED on the condition of anonymity because they fear retaliation, says they worry that the new teams could bypass the regular security clearance protocols to access the agency’s sensitive compartmented information facility (SCIF), as the Trump administration has already granted temporary security clearances to unvetted people. This is in addition to Coristine and Bobba being listed as “experts” working at OPM. Bednar says that while staff can be loaned out between agencies for special projects or to work on issues that might cross agency lines, it’s not exactly common practice.

WIRED’s report on the 6 college-aged men between 19 and 24 that are shaping up DOGE in aiding and abetting in co-”President” Elon Musk’s technofascist takeover.

#Elon Musk #DOGE #Department of Government Efficiency #Trump Administration II #General Services Administration #Office of Personnel Management #Scott Bessent #USAID #Akash Bobba #Edward Coristine #Luke Farritor #Gautier Cole Killian #Gavin Kliger #Ethan Shaotran #Treasury Department #Musk Coup

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thelesbianluthor · 1 year ago

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Robin is so fucking smart. She translated a russian code even though it is not one of the languages she knows (and she knows 4 languages!).

She then went and solved the code.

Then in s4 she finds reefer rick by using the movie database, she finds the right article by looking into cryptid shit and manages to not only lie her way in and act her ass off in front of a doctor so she and Nancy can see a patient nobody else should be able to see. But she also manages to make the connection between music and escaping Vecna's curse.

And the way Nancy and Robin's brains function so well together bc the moment they started going on the same wavelength they were locked in and solving shit on the fly.

I love my smart gfs

#she is so fucking smart #and like i know my girl can be annoying af #but she is so sexy and her brain is soooo hot #nancy saw her big brain and said me and you stick together forever now #we are gonna fuck!!!#stranger things #robin buckley #ronance #also robin is so fucking dramatic i love her

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star-dzt · 5 months ago

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More studies on Resident Evil's lore - based on the books Resident Evil Archives Vol. 1 and Vol. 2

Leon and Ada (RE2 & RE4 - Aeon)

Okay, guys, this is really becoming my hobby. I really love reading how the dots connect. The pages are from books. I marked what I found most interesting.

(Resident Evil Archives Vol. 1)

"A It should not be forgotten that behind Leon's actions there is a woman. Ada Wong. Leon is in love with her, the woman who allied with Albert Wesker to steal the G-Virus. Then, because of his death, his fighting spirit is rekindled. He vows to take revenge on Umbrella, who stole his love."

(Resident Evil Archives Vol. 2)

"Even though Ada was a spy hired by one of Umbrella's competitors, the two ended up getting closer. When Ada was apparently killed by a B.O.W., Leon swore he would end Umbrella at any cost."

"Police Academy was not enough, and Leon went through a period of intense training to acquire skills and become an agent. It was during this period of time that he discovered that Ada was still alive, and had joined Wesker's organization."

"When his training was finished, Leon was sent to South America to find a drug lord with ties to a former Umbrella researcher. Supporting him on this mission was Krauser, a member of US Special Operations Command (US SOCOM). Krauser had a record of bravery in service, but found himself subdued by the kindhearted Leon. Upon completing their mission, Krauser was discharged, and later reported killed in an accident.

Now in rural Europe in 2004, Leon sees with his own eyes that Ada is actually alive, and is shocked to see that Krauser is not dead either. Ada manages to elude him and escape with a sample of the Plaga Master, but he destroys the cult and Krauser along with him, and brings Ashley back safely. Returning home with his mission accomplished, Leon writes the "Kennedy Report", detailing everything he had discovered about the Ganados. The report is confidential, permitted only to the US Government and the BSAA."

(Resident Evil Archives Vol. 1)

(Resident Evil Archives Vol. 2)

"When Leon risked his life to protect hers, she began to fall in love with him, and within hours, he would end up doing the same for her. She took a critical hit to save Leon from B.O.W.'s attack. Tyrant, and as he held her in his arms, his breathing slowed."

"Leon naturally believed the worst. However, despite being seriously injured, Ada was not dead. Perhaps, she intentionally deceived him, fearing that his injuries would be a burden to him."

"She then gave him the key to a jet-ski so he could escape. It was almost as if she enjoyed the back-and-forth nature of their relationship."

materials/IB:

Resident Evil Archives Vol. 1 (Resident Evil Database)

Resident Evil Archives Vol. 2 (Resident Evil Database)

Both versions of the two books translated from Japanese into Brazilian Portuguese.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #ada wong #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #re2 #re4 #aeon #leon #ada #capcom #rebhfun #lore #encyclopedia #resident evil biohazard #re4 remake #re2 remake

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 5 months ago

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Android (Leona) AU - Commission Piece

Thank you so much @nemisisnemi for the commission!!! (And for also being patient with me LMAO) So, general worldbuilding first, the basic headcanons for every character, Leona-specific building and a Nemi x Leona drabble to finish it off.

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, here's my (slightly out of date) comms info. Otherwise, just like/reblog/comment. It means a lot!!

----------------- General Worldbuilding

NRC - Night Raven Conglomerate

Night Raven Conglomerate is known globally for many of their businesses, however their most notable and profitable model comes from Yokai Tech Industries. YTI is responsible for the development of state of the art androids, available for public use. While widely referred to as 'andy's' or 'mechs', YTI has a model for all your personal and business needs, for any budget. (Any budget being from rich, to filthy rich) Each droid model name is indicative of it's role and what it's been programmed to do. Regardless of model, be aware that your bot will have:

Safe search on

A personality chip *please note it will take some time for your bot to develop its personality. It must cater itself to you as an owner and have time to research and develop a personality from external sources. This may mean your bot chooses a name for itself besides its serial number if you do not choose to disable this function

A direct connection to our troubleshooting department

Recording on **all bots 'eyes' or optics are set to record the world around them in order to create a database for themselves and be able to recall old files in order to learn

A user guide and personal password/key in order to access settings in back panel (including most items above)

A recharge station

The Models M.E.C.H- (Managing Everyday Chores and Homemaking) The most common bots on the market, and also, the cheapest! These bots are perfect for individuals and families, taking care of everything from meal planning and budgeting to getting kids ready for school and cleaning! They'll manage household finances and run your errands for you.

M.E.C.H's have a humanoid design, but are manufactured in a white-coloured metal alloy. Most have a feminine appearance, but by request/with permission from their owners they may alter their appearance. Clothing is simulated by internet research and metallic projections that allow them to emulate cloth. (M.E.C.Hs from the factory are often dressed in a maid-like outfit or in a pant suit.) M.E.C.H's are able to alter their "hair" style and colour, so long as it is considered appropriate by their owners. They are also able to shift their height slightly. (this design is somewhat inspired by Dominic Cellini on twt/insta)

M.E.C.H's are very durable and also easy to fix. They are capable of repairing themselves from damage after watching a mechanic fix the specific issue once, or contacting our troubleshooting team. M.E.C.H's are waterproof on their hands, and water resistant overall. They are fire resistant, and are equipped with safety measures in case of an emergency. They also have a direct line with 911. **A business model of M.E.C.H is also available for minimum wage jobs, usually those requiring hospitality skills. They are more susceptible to the emulation of emotion however, than the O.T.T.O model, and may shut down when dealing with a customer. This can usually be avoided by turning off the personality chip temporarily.

---------

O.T.T.O - Occupational Transport and Telecommunications Organizers (O.T.T.O) is a great model to consider for the workplace.

O.T.T.O bots are programmed to help increase efficiency and intrapersonal bonds in the workplace, comparable to an automated secretary. O.T.T.O bots do the following up, so you don't have to. Progress reports and statistics are created and analyzed in record time. They are also trained to deal with H.R conflicts in a calculated and unbiased manner. However, O.T.T.O bots have also recently been taking their place behind the wheel for public transportation, currently the only model approved to drive. So long as they are given ample time to either charge OR refuel, (like a car), they are a much safer option on the roads than humans are. They are a great choice as a chauffeur,( and YTI has proved as such by starting a cab company under a different name/brand.)

On public transit, their appearance is much more industrial than their office-working models. Most O.T.T.O bots tend to remain in their factory settings, remaining completely chrome in colour. They often maintain a bulkier looking chest and shoulder area for the sake of keeping potentially unruly costumers in check, though their arms and legs are capable of stretching and appear similar to bendy straws.

While these bots are reliable, they also seem susceptible to wear and tear. It's often cheaper to replace a bot when it no longer serves it's function properly. (cough cough planned obsolescence cough)

It is not recommended that these bots work in hospitality. YTI is currently working on O.T.T.O bots that may be considered for work in trades, though this has mixed reviews from the public as of right now, over concerns of the bots taking over jobs that require more certification than simple safety and a driver's license.

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EM-RR - Emergency Response Robot (often referred to as an "Emery")

This bot is built specifically with human safety in mind. It's only objective is to rescue human lives. These bots are manufactured to look like humans for the most part, as studies have shown receptiveness to being rescued was improved the more humanoid they appeared. These bots are equipped with basic paramedic training, fire fighting, extensive knowledge of the law and how it applies, medical equipment like that found on an ambulance, and search and rescue supplies, including a detachable drone that is a part of them. EM-RR's are also equipped with extra rations of food, water, blankets, toys, and radios. Besides M.E.C.H's, EM-RR's are the best bot to have around kids as they are often able to handle the responsibility, breakdowns and tantrums easily. These bots are also built to withstand extreme temperatures, pressures, and fluids.

They are not yet approved to operate in a rescue mission without a supervisor as many are still learning what does and does not harm a human in terms of handling them.

-------

E.L.U - Entertainment and Leisure Unit

These bots are made for the big screen, often boasting the newest and best technology YTI has to offer. Their appearances are highly dynamic and can switch on a dime according to their whims.

E.L.U's can only be afforded by the highest bidders, and only 1200 models have been made worldwide for the public to buy. (About 35 models are used for YTI's ad campaigns and as actors in movies, and of those models, only 1 is used as a social media 'influencer'.).

E.L.U's are equipped with exceptional emotion-imitating technology. They are able to replicate voices without issue, learn choreography immediately, possess perfect pitch, and are capable of playing any percussion or string instrument.

E.L.U's have been through the most rigorous testing and development. While being able to sustain damage fairly easily, nanotech allows for superficial markings and damages to repair itself. Any damage that occurs on a software level is unheard of, but would be covered by insurance. At least, unheard of to the public

----- Custom Bots (The YTI is currently working to develop a 'build your own bot' program for young aspiring engineers. The program will allow promising individuals to create a new android using the technology available to them in the facility, and also lead to streamlining the process by which someone could order a custom bot. Prototypes have been promising.)

-----

Rapid Fire World Building

Riddle - human toddler Trey - EM-RR - Firefighting specialty Cater - lives at home (mansion) with his dad, who is a banker and investor of Y.T.I Deuce - Mechanic Ace - Was the Roseheart's M.E.C.H, took care of Riddle, began to disobey orders from Dr. Rosehearts, was slightly dismantled and discarded of Leona - Explained Below (E.L.U) Ruggie - O.T.T.O bot, mainly working in taxis. Very friendly, has to do constant maintenance on himself so they don't take him out of service Jack - Mechanics assistant, M.E.C.H Azul - inherited his grandma's restaurant, investor of Y.T.I, has several M.E.C.H's at his disposal Jade - is set to take over his mother's jewelry business Floyd - no formal training as a mechanic, does the upkeep for the Ashengrotto restaurant. Has mixed feelings about the M.E.C.H's, sometimes breaks them just to put them back together Jamil - a hybrid of all three bots, meant to attend to Kalim. Has additional security measures built in place to act as a guard. Kalim - human, investor and advocate for android rights, as he believes they exist beyond just their programming and should be treated equally Vil - E.L.U owned by Eric Venue. Hates it. Rook - EM-RR - search and rescue specialty Epel - Mechanic. Doesn't really like Y.T.I's inventions. Too close to humans Idia - head engineer of Y.T.I. Can you guess why :) Ortho - DECEASED E.L.U model Malleus - a discarded prototype of the E.L.U model. The workers at Y.T.I believe it's battery is dead, but it has been able to hear everything around it for ages. Kept in the discard area, not even used for parts due to issues that came up during testing. "Cursed" Lilia - one of the engineers at Y.T.I. Starting to question whether the use of A.I was a good idea, the more he works with the newer and newer models. Silver - M.E.C.H's original prototype. It's "old" now, and does not hold a charge well. It is good friends with all the engineers and other workers at Y.T.I. Constantly has a mobile charging pack. Sebek - EM-RR, forensics specialty

Leona Specific Worldbuilding

Falena Kingscholar was one of the first investors for Y.T.I. For the sake of PR and as CEO of his late father's clothing company, he deemed his contributions to Y.T.I's research as charity - such a stunning new invention, such innovation could do so much to improve the lives of those less fortunate. He sealed the deal with action when, on M.E.C.H release day, he bought 250 models to give out at random.

Some might make the mistake of thinking he's a selfless man.

As one of the largest investors in Y.T.I, he is given advanced access to latest models, often receiving a prototype after development has been approved. As such, when he heard E.L.U. models were soon going to be able to customized, he approached the owner with a deal he simply couldn't turn down.

So four weeks ahead of schedule, after hours of video footage had been submitted, interviews, photographs, memories retold, AI training, the semblance of his late younger brother stood in his living room, though slightly less...organic, so to speak.

At first it was alright. E.L.U - C 12515141 Was equipped with the knowledge that it's name was to be Leona, it's pronouns from there on were to be he/him, and Falena Kingscholar had requested him to maintain a "brotherly" relationship with him. While he wasn't entirely sure what that meant yet, he agreed. He had been given the videos in his memory banks as to who he was meant to imitate after all.

Leona tried - but to be honest, there was very little footage of the boy he was meant to resemble that offered information about his personality. He mitigated this by asking Falena to take a short questionnaire regarding which siblings in media he wanted him to imitate.

When Leona got his answers however, the patterns didn't line up. The boys he saw in the videos did not match the dynamics Falena had selected.

He saw videos over and over and over again where Falena was the subject, and the boy he was meant to imitate was nothing more than a background character. Secondary.

Now, maybe it was the push to develop him so quickly, so something was overlooked, or maybe it was just how evolution was meant to take place in a machine as novel as he, but something changed about his programming, about his personality.

If the living boy had been nothing but an understudy for the success his elder brother had come out to be....what did that make him? A replacement for someone who was never truly cared for? Built to be a coping mechanism for someone who regretted their decisions? All he was, was the embodiment of Falena's guilt, and a pillar to be Falena's redemption. He wasn't built to be loved, or enjoyed, or even for entertainment, he was built from man's selfishness.

In the following weeks, Leona tried to keep to his programming, but between processing and cross referencing and research on both the family itself and the psychology that he would be expected to have, he started to lapse more. He would write off slips of the "tongue" as "glitches" or his body language began to become more pronounced, usually in regards to annoyance. In between it all, he was trying to figure out if he was experiencing real human emotions about this all...or if it was all just part of the programming.

Eventually, Leona's internal conflict got to be too much. Violent tendencies and impulses began to arise, resulting in him damaging himself, shutting down randomly to avoid external conflict, and an otherwise unexpected disposition.

He listened into the phone number Falena made to send him in for repairs to his "personality chip." Leona took it as a threat, and immediately blocked all outgoing signals to Y.T.I temporarily to find a way to remove his personality chip on his own. Using bathroom tools, the mirror, and damaged pieces of himself, he all but performed surgery on himself to remove it - only to be horrified to realize all the "simulated" emotions he thought he had were still very much present. Unsure what to do, he stored the chip in one of his compartments, out the window and ran.

He was blacking in and out as he went, from the sheer panic he felt but tried to keep under wraps. It wasn't until he made it to a junk yard, where he could bury himself in scraps to hide that he finally let himself dive into power saving mode, sitting silently for who knows how long.

---------------------------

Nemi x Leona Drabble

Battery Charged - 100% All Systems Back Online Rebooting Programming. . . Programming Error Detected - Contact Y.T.I? Yes No

"No. No don't contact Y.T.I." Nemi muttered softly, fighting the grime on their fingers to make the touchscreen respond.

It wasn't very often that Nemi or any of the junkyard crew found anything of value - at most maybe half a M.E.C.H or a catalytic converter if they were lucky - but a fully in tact, possibly operational E.L.U was unheard of. It was genuine too. How it had ended up in the junkyard was beyond him, but he wouldn't forsake the powers that be that left such a project to fall into his hands.

He rubbed his fingers on the cloth set over his shoulder, trying again to hit the button on the screen. To his relief, it finally registered.

Y.T.I Services can be contacted throu- (tap, uninterested) If your bot is not perf- (tap, that's what I'm here for...) System's Calibrating . . . System Calibration Complete E.L.U C 12515141 At Your Service, Courtesy of Y.T.I

The screen finally flickered black, before the metal beneath it flickered into the appearance the bot had had last, it's hand coming up to touch it's head as if it had a headache, it's "nose" scrunched as if it were in pain. The optics opened and shut a few times, the gentle whirr of fans blowing out dust and dirt build up that apparently, Nemi hadn't cleaned out thoroughly enough.

Whether the bot itself groaned, or it was it's internal workings coming back to life wasn't distinguishable, but Nemi stayed on his knees next to it as it seemed to slowly adjust to it's new surroundings. It squinted slightly, locking eyes with Nemi before glancing around the humble workshop.

It wasn't until it lowered it's arm it noticed that the chrome finish was no longer there - hell, the damage from his arm was gone. It was slightly bulkier than the other, but all in all, with a little buffing it would be good as new again.

It opened and closed it's hand experimentally, as if processing it was functioning like before.

"...You did this?" The bot's once blue optics much more closely resembled brilliant green eyes, scrutinizing the work of the supposed mechanic next to him.

Nemi swallowed hard, unsure what, exactly about this bot made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but cleared his throat and nodded, gently taking the bot's arm in his hands and turning it to show the carefully soldered metal, just the smallest glimpse of the wires beneath it.

"Yeah, I did. Um, you were partially crushed by a refrigerator? I think it fell on you from higher up in the stack, so I did my best to repair your arm myself. I...I may have taken apart your other arm to make sure I could make the servos match up properly, but everything's good as new. Promise. Name's Nemi, by the way."

The bot stayed quiet a moment longer, now looking down at both it's arms.

"....Why? I was supposed to be scrapped."

The bot finally moved, but only to tilt it's head back til it touched the wall, bringing a knee up to rest one of it's newly repaired arms on it, and closing its eyes. If it could sigh, Nemi was fairly certain it would have.

He adjusted himself, sitting flat on the ground instead, regarding the bot in some confusion.

"But you're an E.L.U. Nobody would just throw you away or, gods forbid, use you for parts. Any self respecting mechanic or robofanatic would repair you. You're gorgeous, top of the line, most sought after kinda model....how'd you end up out here anyways?"

The bot didn't seem to like that question, it's auxiliary power cord flicking, not unlike that of a cat as it looked away.

"Does it matter?"

Can a robot have an existential crisis? The thought passed through Nemi's mind, but he just shrugged in response.

"Not really. But it'd be kind of nice to know your name if you want to stick around here."

Nemi was met with an immediate glare of disdain.

"I'm not gonna follow your orders. Somethin' about defective programming probably came up on my reboot, right?"

Nemi shrugged again.

"Yeah, but you seem fine. Actually you seem like a lot more fun than most M.E.C.H's. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but it would be nice to have a friend here."

The bot remained silent, looking away from Nemi. The silence stretched on for a while, before it finally let out a slightly exasperated sound.

"You can stop staring. You can also...call me Leona."

Nemi couldn't help but smile a bit, extending a hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you."

--------------------------------- OTL thank you again for the comm, hope this was up to expectation and also tag list time! @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @lumdays @theleechyskrunkly

DM to be added/taken off ^^

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