#perl babbles

[bits-and-babs]

i need breeding kink!konig before i cryy also w small reader eeee

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃, 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃

pairing : könig x f!reader ('perle')

synopsis : könig snaps after a particularly hard mission, unable to hold back his desire much longer.

warnings : [ 1k words ] Emotional distress, unprotected pinv sex, utterly pathetic könig, breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation, cum eating, reference to oral (f receiving). könig is a babbling mess.

notes: this is pure filth. barely any mention of small reader because i like to be inclusive <33

König’s combat boots drag across the floorboards of your shared apartment, depositing clumps of dried Spanish mud across the oak with each weary trudge of his feet. Your boyfriend carries his body over the house threshold like a wounded hound, his tail between his legs and eyelids still splotched with patchy grease paint. König is prideful, usually holding his gigantic frame with a regal posture to match his name– you’ve never seen him so crippled by what he’d promised would be a straightforward mission, in and out.

You open your mouth to ask, to say his name, to offer your support, noting the way König didn’t take his shoes off at the door like he always did. He doesn’t let you, his prodigious forearms encircling your waist with a vice-like grip.

“Just give me this, Perle. I need nothing else,” he promises you, his accent delicate to your ears when he whispers his plea into your hair. Clutching him tight, you liberate the breath you’d held hostage between the bars of your ribcage since König left. You’d been fearful, as always, that the oxygen in your lungs would serve a life sentence, but when your lungs expand again, aching at the edges, you smell his exertion, the earthiness of the mud that clung to his body, the gunpowder he’d expended while taking lives. He’s home.

“König,” you whisper to him, scared a louder decibel would rip apart the fragile foundations that kept the hefty Austrian upright. He shakes his head in response, his palms pawing at your hips, squeezing at the flesh he finds with overwrought neediness.

“Please, Perle,” he murmured, his voice cracking beneath the tide of his emotional turmoil, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass to pull your body closer, “I just need you. Need you close- need to be in you.”

It’s jarring, the distress you feel roiling inside the tense muscles of his back that you skirt your palm over not matching the dripping desire that coated his tongue. When you lean back in his grip, attempting to catch a glimpse of your lover’s eyes, he pulls you impossibly closer. The thread-worn material of his battle-tested uniform is soft against your skin, but the firmness of his cock against you is undeniable.

“Anything,” you whisper, and it’s as though you’ve let the hounds loose. König launches you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeals of shock, and hurries towards the bedroom with absurdly broad strides.

☆ ☆ ☆

He chokes out a string of unintelligible German curse words when he finally bottoms out inside of you. König’s hands, webbed with silver scars that spanned across his knuckles, grasp at your hips and angle them skyward, his thighs flexing as he attempts to keep still for a moment.

“Hahh-ah- Still, Schatzi, be still,” he urges you brokenly. You wail, winded by the sensation of his preposterously thick cock spearing your cunt. It lays deep inside you, nudging at your cervix when it twitches. “S-Still-“

Statuesque, you haven’t moved a nanometre. It’s König, his face buried deep into the crook of your neck, mindlessly pushing his hips deeper into you with shallow thrusts. They’re barely there, slight and feeble, as he dramatically gasps out each time the sensitive tip of his dick brushes your cervix.

“Aha-Haaa, please, please, Perle,” he keens, his rumbling voice strained by his frantic desire. His fingertip pushes into the swollen nub of your clit, and it draws dangerously lazy circles over the sparking nerves there. You sob his name weakly, almost missing his rambled plea. “So tight- your cunt is so tiny for me, Perle. Ughh-fuck- let me cum in it? L-Let me fill it up, watch it spill out of you-“

Your back arches from the mattress as he withdraws his hips slightly, only to plunge them deeper. It’s ludicrous, you think, the way your body gives way to his ridiculous intrusion, but your toes curl with delight, and König wails out another string of profanity.

“Hah-sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbles, his cock rocking in and out of you but never once entirely withdrawing from your heat, “I just need to fill this cunt, Perle. Need to see it leak– See you swollen with our child– fuck!”

König spits a broken moan when your hips arch to meet his thrusts. Your clit brushes his pubic bone with each joining of your hips, hurtling you towards orgasm and tightening your walls with bliss.

“So tight, so fu-huhhking tight, Perle– Fuck!” König gasps, his hips stuttering as he braces for your answer.

“Yes,” you whine, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm threatens to crash through you in a tidal wave, “Please, König, please fucking fil–“

König cuts off your appeal with a hoarse cry of your name, his whole body trembling with the force of his orgasm as his cock spurts thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of your cunt. The warmth of the blooming pressure inside you sparks a blissful throb, your nails sinking into König’s forearms as it detonates inside you. You hear him through the mind-blowing buzz, wailing and sobbing about how you’re milking him, how it’s dripping from your cunt and into the bedsheets.

It’s hazy when the overwhelming euphoria floats down, König still hunched over your body and thrusting inside of you helplessly. His jaw hangs loose, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of agonising pain and paradisical ecstasy as he fucks his cum deeper into you.

“Hahah-Ahhh fuck, c-creaming all o-ohhhver my cock-“he slurs, his removing his oversensitive cock with a pathetic sob. His fingers sink into your cunt almost instantly, ignoring the curl of your toes and the arch of your back to stuff the dribbling cum back inside of your fluttering pussy.

“Need it to take, Perle,” König garbles, his eyelids heavy as he sinks low to the mattress to swipe up the remaining excess with his tongue. He mumbles around your pussy as he laps up his cum from its glistening lips, “Jus’ lift your hips, Schatz. Sit them on my face; I want to taste us–“

join the taglist here:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art

[sunny-jade]

Drowning Shio - ShB Spoilers

Lett was torn between innate fear and bubbling laughter.  On one hand, she had been raised to fear the Fuath.  On the other hand, Shio can breathe underwater...and now so could she.  Realistically, she knew she had nothing to fear from these particular tricksters any longer aside from a fearsome battle.

Finally deciding, the Viis sits on the shore, wringing out her hair, giggling.  The Fuath had tried to drown Shio.  Her wife sometimes took naps in their fish tank, for goodness sake.  Unbraiding her hair, she lets it fall down straight, drying in the sun as she waits patiently for Shio to wake and come to the surface.

Glancing over at the water, Lett is again torn between laughter and worry.  She could see Alisaie pulling the rest of the Scions out of the water, laying them out on the shore and going back for the others.  Striding over towards the waterlogged group, Lett sees them notice her, panic and fear on their faces as the Warrior of Light’s wife approaches.

Alphinaud babbles about Shio, apologizing to Lett, Urianger nodding along behind him.  All the faces of the Scions are full of sorrow and fear, making up Lett’s mind for her.  With a sigh, she looks pointedly at Alisaie.  “Did you forget about the Kojin?”

Alphinaud stops short, staring at Lett and then turning to his sister, confused in his panic. Alisaie stares at Lett for a moment, mouth working.  As they all start talking at once, Lett bites her lip, watching Shio emerge from the water and walk towards the group, shaking her hair and straightening her clothes.

They all stop short, staring in confusion before Alisaie slaps herself on the forehead and flops down on her back with a groan.

Leaning down to kiss her wife, Lett smirks against her lips.  “Have a nice swim, Perle?”

Shio moans softly at the kiss and nods up at Lett.  “The Fuath tried to drown a Kojin…”

Lett grins down at Shio. “I know.”

[perlumi-delirium]

The fact that’s is 2019 and I get to watch an episode of Fruits Basket every friday evening is absolutely surreal, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Fruits Basket helped me and comforted me when I first read it as a preteen and it’s a story I’ve often come back to ever since. I can’t believe I get to experience it once again, it’s truly wonderful. I’ve cried so many tears over this story, and I’m ready to shed many more. 

[claimed-by-the-web]

I have only one (1) criteria for Elias Bouchard’s design and it’s “how punchable does he look”

so if your Elias looks punchable, congrats, it’s a Good Design

[lamerdeseslarmes]

I LIVE

I like to imply I’m back from the dead every time I update this blog because let’s be real, I’m always gone for so long that it may as well be exactly what happened. No grave can hold my shipper ass back from pairing together the old man and the triangle, NONE. Anyway whats up guys, Bill/ford still rules and though I have made absolutely zero progress in the past several months, you’d be deeply mistaking to think that I’ve abandonned my bill/ford projects. I don’t know when I’ll finish them, but recent events reminded me that it doesn’t matter, and that I do want to finish them, no matter how much time it takes me! :D  Thanks to every billford shipper and content creator out there, especially if you’re still here, your existence makes my life a better one and you inspire me to stay creative, even in difficult times! <3 

[breakingsomething]

the fall part nine - the truth about magic

basic summary: henrik meets some old friends, a LOT of worldbuilding happens, and the world falls apart

trigger warnings: vomit, kidnapping, violence

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow

henrik was hurting. his phone was dead. and he had not realized how far away the golf club was.

fuck, maybe he was going to need help.

he wasn't far from one of his coworker's houses, and they were on... decent terms, so henrik figured he'd be able to rest a bit there and maybe ask him for a lift. just the thought spurred him on, giving him the energy to walk just the little bit further to the expensive houses two streets away.

this was one of the much nicer areas of brighton. of course, henrik and his coworker worked as surgeons. that was a high paying job. but henrik lived in a small flat with his brothers (because it was in a safe area to practice magic in, and because staying together had always helped keep anti at bay), and he couldn't help but feel slightly insecure as he limped up to the white doorway surrounded by green shrubs in a well kept garden and rung the bell. christ, even the doorbell sounded posh. henrik winced in pain as he shifted from foot to foot, trying to find a comfortable position to stand in while he waited.

after maybe ten seconds, he heard sounds from the other side. shuffling, footsteps, a loud barking. when the door opened, henrik was immediately greeted by two tiny dogs leaping up his legs, and he cried out, grabbing at the door so his legs wouldn't give out.

"down, bacon, down, hash!" a sharp voice yelled, and henrik's head snapped up from the yipping puppies to the man in the doorway. brown hair shaved at the sides, skin orange from fake tan, wearing plaid pajamas like a cartoon character. nevertheless, he grinned when he saw henrik, bright white teeth practically glowing in his mouth. "schneeplestein!" he boomed, throwing out his arms for a hug that henrik wasn't sure he wanted but felt obliged to accept. "haven't seen you at work in yonks! where've you been, friend? come inside!" he clapped henrik's back, to which he began coughing wildly. the other man didn't appear to notice. "i have another friend inside you may want to see - she also visited unexpectedly, haha! is this a surprise party or something?"

henrik couldn't answer. his head was suddenly spinning, and without warning, he grabbed at the man's shoulder as he collapsed to the floor.

"oh - oh, jeez! schneep, are you alright?" the man asked, yanking him back to his feet. "son of a monkey - what did you do to your leg and your back?"

"parker - don't - i -" henrik ran out of words and simply let parker drag him inside, hardly able to stand up himself. the man rambled on and on as henrik stared, awe struck, at all the intricate decorations and paintings on the walls. "nice place," he managed to say. "it's… changed a bit, since since i was last here."

"it sure has!" parker laughed loudly, guiding him towards what henrik remembered to be the kitchen, if it hadn't been renovated into a ballroom. "me and molly got pay rises, her especially - don't know what i'd do without that woman, by the way - and we redecorated! i like it much better. what do you think, schneep?"

"yeah," henrik agreed weakly. "lovely. also, i've mentioned that i'm not fond of the nickname -"

"and these are our dogs, bacon and hashbrown!" parker interrupted, gesturing towards the fluffy white dogs that were padding behind their owner, tongues hanging out. "very clever names, molly chose them. do you have a cat?"

"my brother has one -"

"ah, so that explains why they're so enthusiastic. they love cat smells. ellie, schneep's here!"

henrik paled as they entered the kitchen and he saw who it was that was sitting at the table.

a woman. long brown hair, a pale, heart shaped face, dark painted lips forming the shape of an "o". henrik didn't blame her; he was doing the same thing. "el - why are you here?"

"i could ask you the same thing," she snapped, scraping her chair back and standing. "nathan, what is henrik doing here?"

parker held up both hands beside his head - not that henrik was looking at him. his eyes were pinned on the furious looking woman at the table, her yellow-brown eyes stormy. she hadn't changed a bit in the six months it had been since he'd last seen her. he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting.

"i didn't invite anyone!" parker cried. "i'm still in my damn nightclothes!"

ellie and henrik simply stared at each other for a long moment, until henrik cried out in sudden pain and grasped one of the kitchen chairs. parker helped him sit, propping his leg up on another chair in front of him.

"what happened?" ellie asked, concern darkening her face despite everything. she shuffled over as parker rolled up his trouser leg, hissing through his teeth in sympathy.

"jeez louise, schneep, these are some bad burns," parker commented. "what the heck did you do? did someone hurt you? should we call a hospital?"

henrik shook his head rapidly. "no, no, no," he babbled desperately. this had so been a bad idea. "i - i need a lift, if that's ok. to the golf club a little ways away. i would have walked, but -"

"oh no, you can't walk like this!" parker exclaimed. "especially not - you could get an infection - what burned you, tell me th-"

he suddenly cut off, eyes glazing over unnaturally. he stood up straight almost robotically before turning and leaving the room. henrik watched him go, confused, before turning to ellie.

"what was that?" he laughed awkwardly, before his face fell. her expression, too, was completely blank for a moment before returning to its previous rage.

"why did you never call?" she asked angrily, as though having forgotten everything they'd just been saying. henrik blinked, wondering how to reply.

"i - well, i…" he trailed off, looking away. "i don't know."

he could feel ellie's eyes on him. the guilt burned underneath his skin.

"six months, henrik," she said softly. "are you that much of a coward? do you always date women then leave them on read for months?"

henrik wanted to argue that he couldn't have left her on read because he'd only ever read her messages from the notification bar, never clicking them, but decided that was maybe a bad thing to bring up at this moment in time. "i didn't mean to," he mumbled. "i got overwhelmed. i'm so sorry, ellie. you deserve better than that."

she paused, staring down. "you're a douchebag," she told her clasped hands.

"i know," henrik agreed miserably. he tapped his fingers on his thighs. "i, uh, hope you have been doing ok. i should have checked up on you. i… haven't exact been very social with anyone recently. things have been happening, which i know is not an excuse for what i did, but… yeah."

she nodded. "i've been doing ok, i guess. nathan's been good to me. he was the only one who kept in touch after i left work."

henrik bobbed his head, guilt eating him up. they sat in awkward silence for a couple minutes until parker came back into the room. "found my keys!" he announced cheerfully, waving them in the air. he had also changed clothes to a pale blue button up and black dress trousers. he looked like he was going to a job interview. "now let's take you…" his blue eyes clouded over again. "where was i taking you?"

"um… hecate golf club." henrik glanced back and forth between parker and ellie, confused. "are you two ok?"

ellie got to her feet suddenly, not looking directly at henrik. "i'll leave too," she said loudly. "i should probably be getting home too. i'll drive myself. thank you, nathan, for your hospitality."

"anytime," he said with a smile. "see you, els. come on, schneeplestein, i gotta get you there before molly gets home. i'm not supposed to leave the dogs home alone for too long."

had they completely forgot about the injuries on his leg and back? henrik stood on shaky legs and limped to the door and outside, where two cars were in the driveway. parker walked over to his car (a mercades benz) and threw open the door casually. "hurry up! i'll get her started, let's just…"

"henrik?" ellie asked quickly, lowering her voice so parker couldn't hear. she turned to face him fully, eyes large. "your whole not talking to me thing… was that because of… the reason i left work? i know people were gossiping, and -"

"mein gott, no!" henrik exclaimed. he shook his head rapidly, rushing to explain. "ellie, i understand - if the whole gossip bullshit is true, then i completely understand. mental health is - it's much more important than work, ok? i get that."

ellie hummed softly, seemingly unconvinced. henrik softened. "perle," he murmured. "did you - did you ever wonder why i took so many breaks from work myself?"

she blinked, but before she could say a word, parker called him over again. "come on, we don't have all day!" he cried, and henrik finally ducked into the car, watching ellie step back.

"i'll call you this time," henrik promised. "i swear."

she said nothing, but the corner of her mouth twitched. henrik sat back in his seat, breathing deeply.

"hecate golf club, here we come," parker told him. henrik craned round to see ellie out the window. she was standing in the driveway still, but she was smiling softly.

-

the drive to hecate was rather awkward, especially given that lucas was their driver.

"are you like, the official chauffeur of hecate?" marvin asked sarcastically from the back seat. chase had called shotgun, and was awkwardly tapping his seat with his nails as lucas drove.

"kinda, actually!" lucas said cheerfully. "my main magic specialty is shields and protection, after all. i make a good chauffer."

"really?" chase said, looking up at lucas with wide eyes. "marvin can do protection spells and stuff, is that what you do?"

"kinda," lucas said again. "marvin here is a very skilled magician - one of the best i've seen. he can probably do the spells better than me, not gonna lie." he laughed, and marvin sunk lower in his seat, glaring out the window and listening to the other two chatter on and on.

he wasn't sure how chase was so calm, given what they'd just heard. everything was falling apart and jackie was partially responsible - marvin refused to believe it. a few people acting odd and a strange magic smell wasn't exactly the end of the world. not only that, but the possibility that henrik could be in danger made marvin feel sick, and anti had fucking drained his phone before he could finish the call. god, he hoped he was ok. "are we nearly there?" marvin interrupted. "i can barely see out the bloody windows, and i'm tired of having anti on my shoulder."

marvin shoved anti off to accentuate his point. anti, half conscious, groaned and weakly batted at marvin's legs before slumping against the car door.

"nearly there, yeah," lucas told him. "miss kamata asked me personally to take you there. it must be big stuff. is it about your brother?"

marvin hesitated. "yeah," he mumbled. "i guess."

when they drove up to the parking lot, chase peered through the window curiously. "so many cars," he noticed. "and people. i thought this wasn't a real golf club?"

"it's not," lucas said, parking the car in an empty space. "a bunch of this is all illusions, to keep up the pretense of this being an active organization. well, it is an active organization, but not… a normal, active golf club. that's it. yeah."

"while do you act as a golf club?" chase asked. "like, out of everything you could choose…"

"because it's easier to hide," lucas said. the car stopped fully, the locks on the doors clicking open. "no one important notices an expensive golfing place. that's why they chose this area to base it in too, i think. not only is this one of the more magical areas of the city, but it's subtle. blends in with all the other rich people shit."

"so some parts of the city are more magical than others?" chase asked. he and lucas stepped out of the car, leaving marvin and anti in the backseat. marvin frowned - chase knew all this stuff, why was he asking?

"yep!" lucas said, flashing chase a grin. "especially in brighton. brighton is one of the more magical places of the world. mostly cause there was a resurgence of magic here in the last few years. no one knows why, but it's good for us. our branch of hecate is pretty powerful, considering."

marvin rolled his eyes. "hey, can someone help with anti, please?" he called. the two men startled, like they'd forgotten he was there.

"oh - oh, shit, sorry!" chase spluttered, turning bright red. he and lucas helped marvin to get anti out the car, and together they dragged him inside.

two magicians were waiting for them at the door. "mcloughlin?" one woman asked, and marvin nodded. anti moaned softly, stirring and attempting to straighten himself.

"miss kamata asked us to take the sick one to our medbay," said a man with purple hair. "she'll speak with him later. you're to come upstairs to her office so she can fill you in on the current situation."

"my brother's coming here," marvin said. "his name is henrik von schneeplestein. looks just like us but - shorter hair than all of us, uh, with a streak of grey. glasses. he's hurt, i think. will you keep a lookout for him?"

the magicians exchanged glances. "we'll see what we can do," the woman told him. she gestured for him to follow. "come on, we'll take you to her."

some other magicians took anti from marvin's arms to help him along to the medbay while they walked through the halls. marvin had seen it all before, but chase was in awe, craning his head back to look. "woah!" he cried, spinning on the spot. "this place is epic!"

"it's under an illusion," the male magician told him. "to all those without magic blood, it's just a normal place. it's a risk to mask it that way, as those with evil intent could theoretically discover us through that, but we have other ways of hiding such things. besides, we help those with magic. do you have magic, young man?"

chase shook his head sadly. "i wish," he said longingly. "i've always wanted to do magic."

"but you can see through our illusions," the woman said, perplexed. "you have magic blood."

"just from my brothers," chase said casually. "marvin does a lot of miscellaneous spells, stuff he discovers, and jackie has photokinesis. henrik can heal minor injuries as well, i'm pretty sure."

"a healer?" the magicians look at each other again. "we don't have many of those. i think your brother could be a useful asset to hecate."

"wait, wait, wait," marvin interrupted. he moved between the magicians and his younger brother, holding his hands up. "you're not here to fucking recruit my brothers, especially not the ones who aren't here." he shot chase a look, and chase shrank under his gaze. "we probably shouldn't talk about that stuff right now anyway."

they continued up the stairs in silence.

"sorry, marvin," chase mumbled to him. "didn't mean to say too much. i'm not used to all this."

marvin just sighed. "don't mention jamie," was all he said in response.

they were taken to kazuki's door and the man went to knock, but the door swung open almost as soon as his knuckles graced the wood. "thank you alana, zack," came kazuki's voice from inside, and the doors quickly shut behind them.

"kazuki," marvin said cooly, standing straight. "explain what's going on, please. what's happening to the people?"

"hello to you too, marvin," kazuki said. she was standing in front of her desk, wearing a red suit with her hair loose around her shoulders. she nodded at the other two men with him. "chase brody. lucas. good to see you two. lucas, thank you for driving them here."

"my pleasure, miss kamata," lucas said with a smile and an awkward hand twirl. "shall i go?"

kazuki considered. "do you wish for him to stay?" she asked. the question was directed at marvin, but chase answered.

"yes, please," he said, giving lucas a smile. lucas smiled back, surprised, and chase turned back to kazuki confidently. "i like this guy."

kazuki's lips upturned, and suddenly the four of them were sitting in an odd circle next to her desk. there were no seats under them, just what felt like solid air. "cool," chase breathed, and he giggled. kazuki tittered softly at his amazed reaction before turning serious again.

"so let's talk about your brother," she started. "we know he stole your magic - the black magic spells you discovered."

"i never performed them," marvin said quickly. "i just found them and never would have -"

"yes, we've been through this," kazuki sighed. she shifted in her invisible air chair, possibly using magic to make it more comfortable. "but here's the thing. we... know of the organization he sold it to."

marvin turned to look at chase and lucas, who both looked surprised. "we do?" lucas said uncertainly.

"let me rephrase that. the higher ups of hecate know," kazuki said. she leaned back onto the desk behind her, blue eyes scrutinizing their reactions. "the leaders of each branch around the world."

"this is a worldwide problem?" marvin said. rage suddenly rose in his chest like boiling water. "why did i never know? i was practically top of hecate when i was with you!"

kazuki raised an eyebrow. "were you?" she said flatly. "even your ex boyfriend was higher ranking than you."

chase piped up while marvin spluttered indignantly. "there are rankings in hecate?"

"in a way," hecate told him. "but that's a conversation for another day. this other organization…" she sighed. "they were once part of hecate."

no one said anything. marvin blinked rapidly, mouth hanging open, but couldn't summon any words. kazuki continued. "hecate was originally a rebel organization founded by british magicians in 1735, when the witchcraft act was passed by parliament. you don't need all the history, though. magic was highly disliked by many back then, is all you need. we named ourselves "restitutio", latin for "restoration." our cause spread. we took in magicians and everyone who did magic and trained them. we hid. but some of us did not want to hide. some of us… turned to darker ways of life."

there was a dramatic pause. chase cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. lucas sniffed loudly. marvin tapped his foot against the floor.

kazuki twirled her hand absentmindedly. a few trinkets floated off her desk and round her hand. "some of them wanted to fight. didn't want to keep our magic hidden. they… did many horrible things. people died. many of them. this was near the end of the 1700s, and many of the original values of restitutio had been lost." she took a breath, glancing up at her hands. "eventually, we, the hecate side of restitutio, took as much dark magic as we could and the others left. it was more recently that things began to change."

"what was the change?" lucas asked.

"there were a few," kazuki said. "all happening within a few years. first off, we discovered that the darker half of us had been hiding for years, cultivating dark magic by infiltrating our ranks. then, around the same time, magic itself changed. it seemed it learned to hide itself, through a barrier we called the veil."

"i didn't know all this," marvin muttered. then he raised his voice. "is this another thing only higher ups know?"

"you should know about the veil," kazuki said. "it hides our magic from nonmag eyes. it was discovered a few years before the dark organization."

"and.. when were these discovered?" chase said, voice low. he had a strange look on his face, and didn't turn to look at marvin.

"well, the veil was discovered on, i believe, october 10th of 2014," kazuki said, seemingly not noticing how marvin and chase jolted. "and we found the first traces of the black magic on october 31st of 2016. we thought it was a halloween prank of sorts, at first - are you two ok?"

chase shook his head rapidly, bouncing on his air seat and waving his hands, slapping his thighs lightly. "we're fine," he said firmly. "fuck, we're fine - what does jackie have to do with this? where does he tie in?"

kazuki frowned, though didn't comment. "his magic… is unnatural. you say he's a user of photokinesis?" the brothers nodded, and kazuki took a breath. "that's not good. photokinesis is a branch of light magic. whatever magic the organization gave him - i'm sorry for always calling it that, it doesn't have a name that we know of - we don't know what that magic is. it's dark, and it's corrupting him."

"it comes from a necklace," chase said. "does that mean anything?"

kazuki swore under her breath. "it could be… we'll talk about that later. here's the important point."

she leaned forward, eyes cold. "the magic in him is fighting for power. and he clearly has never been trained in controlling either branch of magic. and ever since the explosion in that motel in new romney, the veil has been… breaking."

the silence was deafening. marvin felt like it was crushing him, his breaths coming quicker with the effort of staying upright. "could be a coincidence," he said, but his voice was very small. "it can't be… breaking, what do you mean -"

"the two worlds are trying to collide and for some reason they're physically unable to now," kazuki said. "he's tearing a hole in the veil, in the barrier between magic and… normality, i suppose."

marvin was about to finally say something - he wasn't sure what, just something - when a man burst into the room. zack, the purple haired magician from earlier, was gasping and panting for breath, trying to force out words.

"zack," kazuki said, narrowing her eyes and standing. the air chairs under marvin and the others lifted them up onto their feet and promptly dissolved underneath them. "this better be important."

"it - it is, miss kamata," he wheezed. "we've been breached. one of our own has been taken."

-

it all happened so fast.

parker dropped henrik off at the gates of hecate, not even heading into the car park. "see you soon, schneeplestein! come visit, i'm sure molly would love to see you," he said with a dazed grin, eyes unfocused. henrik stepped out of the car and closed the door, smiling nervously at the doctor's strange expression.

"are you alright, parker?" he asked with a small laugh. "you are acting very strange."

"what? just - just fine!" parker exclaimed. he didn't look at henrik. "go do your… golf. i'll be seeing you."

henrik swallowed, straightening as much as he could with his injured leg. "yes," he mumbled. "i'm sure you will."

parker's grin was far too wide. he turned the car, preparing to drive off down the road, when the car glitched and disappeared.

henrik stood in absolute shook for a moment.

the car glitched. and disappeared. it had glitched in a burst of static and vanished completely, leaving nothing behind. not parker. not anything.

ok, so henrik was hallucinating. the magic aaron had hit him with was making him hallucinate. he blinked and turned away, suddenly aware of his head pounding, feeling slightly sick. there was a strange smell in the air. something wrong. he sniffed, realizing it was a very specific scent. like… smoke. like smoke through an open window.

"henrik?"

he jumped, eyes focusing on the man in front of him. as soon as they did, he soured. "raymond," he said with slight disdain. "fancy seeing you here."

raymond snorted. "i work here, friend," he said, sarcasm in the last word. "what are -" his brown eyes widened as he took in henrik's wounds. "oh, bloody hell!"

henrik grabbed the man's arms for support. "don't feel well," he managed. "ich glaube, ich könnte krank sein…"

he stumbled back and promptly threw up on the concrete. raymond's noises of disgust reached his ears through his retching, and as he wiped his mouth he just managed to decipher "fuck, dude, you got vom on my fuckin' suit!"

"sorry," henrik said weakly. his vision was beginning to blur, blackness creeping into the corners of his eyes. "g'hit… car, it glitch…"

"i am not looking after my ex's sick brother," raymond said disgustedly. he reached up and tapped a device behind his ear. "hey, some guy down here is sick. probably a bad hex or something. i dunno, man, it doesn't look good. physical too. leg, back. should i send him to the medbay?"

the more the man spoke, the dizzier henrik felt. someone else was talking to him. he thought he couldn't hear what they were saying.

" - here, come inside," raymond was saying. "we'll check you over. alana, open the spell for a sec so i can get him in."

henrik passed out then. but later, people filled him in on what had happened.

the spells on the gates to the car park has briefly been lowered to let henrik inside. but the second they were down was all that was needed. two men had burst in, ripping through the air with magic that reeked of smoke and something else, something unplaceable. the attack hadn't even really been an attack; it had lasted maybe a minute. when henrik woke in the medbay, he was informed that raymond had been taken, kidnapped, captured, and that was that.

it all happened so fast. so fast.

not only that, but the magicians didn't know what the magic in henrik's body was. dark stuff, they said. incurable, at least by them, they said. it must have come from the same two men who had broken into hecate, they said. they thought black magic didn't exist anymore, they said.

henrik was numb to it all.

"i'm sorry i wasn't there!" marvin had said when he came to see him, chase and another blonde man in tow. "i tried to contact you, anti drained my phone - henny, i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have left you alone!"

henrik hurt. jackie was truly gone. hecate had been breached. a man had beem captured. henrik didn't say a word.

fuck, it had all happened so fast.

-

"you did it, babe!"

"we did it! fuck, it was far easier than i expected. i can say this now, but i was pretty certain we weren't going to manage it."

jackie laughed at aaron's words, kissing him before drawing back with a grin on his face. "honestly? me neither," he giggled. "but look at what we got! far, far better than i could have hoped - oh, he doesn't like that, does he?"

the man chained to the chair in front of them narrowed his eyes, rage burning in them. jackie bent down in front of him, grinning wide. "been a while since i last saw you, raymond! when was it? god, i can't remember. was it the time that you came round demanding marvin paid back your money? was it the time marvin caught you in bed with some fucking nomag twink and you and him had that screaming match? was it the time we saw you in the street with your new boyfriend and marvin started crying so i nearly hit you?" jackie flicked raymond's nose, still giggling like a child. "god, every day since then i've wished i'd beaten the fucking shit out of you. i used to be disgusted with myself for thinking that kind of stuff too, you know? but now… i think i've embraced it."

he tapped a sleek black dagger on raymond's face, just on top of the gag shoved in his mouth. "you like my knife? my boyfriend got it for me. this is him, by the way. say hi, aaron!"

aaron waved from the corner where he was leaning, resting on a blue baseball bat. raymond's eyes were wild with fear and anger, and he shook his head to try and get the blade away.

"what's that?" jackie said, pretending to listen like a kid playing with a doll. "you want to talk? certainly!" he slashed the knife down the man's face, cutting through the gag but the skin underneath as well. raymond screamed in pain, but cut himself off as quickly as he could, biting down on his lip and panting.

"bitch," raymond spat. "what are you? a demon? what type of magic is this?" blood dribbled down his chin. "and - ha, why did you break in? idiot, i would have left anyway - do you not understand how high security hecate is? you got in, and all you did was, what, knock out your sick brother and kidnap me?"

jackie leaned back, sticking out his lip and looking upset. then his smirk returned like it had never left, and he threw back his head to roar with laughter. aaron giggled from the corner before coming to stand next to his boyfriend.

"oh - oh, raymond, no," jackie giggled, wiping at his eyes. "oh, you think we - you think we just grabbed you and left? nooo, no no no. time is an illusion, my bastard friend!"

"we got so much done!" aaron said joyfully. "all thanks to jackie's wonderful brother -"

"oh, stop it, mo chroí, we couldn't have done anything without your lovely magic!" jackie elbowed aaron and the two dissolved into peals of laughter while raymond watched with a forced neutral expression.

"what do you want with me?" he said, trying to keep his voice flat. "i don't know what information you think i know, but it's nothing good. i'm not as high ranked as you might think, i swear, i -"

"shut up now, ok?" aaron suddenly interrupted. "we were having a moment there and you ruined it. fuck, they're never polite, are they, jackson?"

"i don't know, this is only my second prisoner!" jackie joked. then he rolled his eyes. "and we don't fucking care what rank you are, we just snatched the first guy we saw. it just so happened to be my brother's filthy, cheating whore ex." he leaned forward, right into raymond's face. "you're my ticket to a better life, bitch. look at that. you have a fucking use after all."

jackie turned to aaron, gripping his arm and turning him to face him. "they're really gonna love him, aren't they?" he cooed. "will he be good enough?"

"course he will, babe," aaron said. "he's hecate, he - what does he do, teleport? he teleports. that's interesting, they might like that."

"'they?'" raymond shouted angrily. he struggled against his chains, grunting. "who is 'they?' why can't i teleport? is this - is this about what i did to marvin? i never meant to hurt him!"

without warning, jackie slapped raymond right across the face. "i already fucking told you that it's nothing to do with you," he snapped, dropping the soft tone from before. "i saw you and took you. we kind of had other priorities at that moment. you fucking got it? jesus shit, dude, not everything's about you - although, i know you think it is, huh?" he hit raymond again, sending him reeling. "do you know how many nights i spent holding marvin while he cried, feeling worthless, depressed - you meant so much to him but you are nothing but a repulsive -"

"jackson, calm," aaron soothed, taking his face in hand. "you can't hurt him too bad. they'll get upset, it'll show a lack of control. that's something they look for. do you want to be accepted or not?"

"accepted?" raymond cried, voice high in pitch. "are you selling me to a cult or something?"

"nope," aaron said cheerfully. "much worse."

jackie growled in raymond's direction. "fucking bastard. the organization better see self control from me if it means i can't beat the living daylights outta this guy."

"they will," aaron reassured. "they will. then we can properly be together, and you can't -"

jackie suddenly screamed, a howl of complete agony that made raymond throw his head back like it would save him. jackie clawed at his chest, doubling over as his whole form… his form, his body… raymond cringed. the man's form was flickering, like a glitching computer screen. and as he watched, raymond started to smell something. a stinking, magical smell so thick it almost made him choke. it smelled like smoke. like smoke creeping through an open window.

"jackson, jackson - fuck, let's get out of here," aaron said, pushing jackie out the door of the small room raymond was being kept in. aaron whipped back round to look at him as he left, glaring. "get comfortable," he said. "you might be in here a while."

the door shut behind them, leaving raymond cold with the taste of copper and smoke on his tongue.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

COULD VC SUCKAGE

He was a pretty nice guy, but at the time. It's easy to convince investors there will be less and less pressure to use what are perceived as standard technologies. 064. Right now, ambitious kids going to art school run smack into a brick wall. Two new kinds of techniques were developed there: techniques for building integrated circuits, and techniques for building integrated circuits spread rapidly to other countries. There are people who will notice. No one except the other founders gets to see the Mona Lisa, you'll probably be disappointed, because it's hard to tell good hackers when you meet them. If you're worried that your current job is rotting your brain, it probably is. It may work, but it is a standard.

The page was of course an ad for a porn site. It won't have any prestige yet, if no one is good at something, they tend to spend all their time doing that. 94 x 1. I think, should be able to get smart people to work for him if the project had to be built on NT. He was standing in Robert Morris's office babbling at him about something or other, and I think I can prove this to you without even getting into the differences between them. When you're trying to solve and why it's important. The place to look is in our DNA. You're also making a social decision, and this is responsible for a lot of strength and diversity of the American people, etc, etc. Being able to take risks, the need to seem serious, the weight of expectations, the power of the forces that have them in their grip, so I sat down and thought about what they have in common. Hackers like to work on an audience, then we live in exciting times, because just in the last several decades, with the idea of the corporate ladder at General Electric—or Microsoft, actually.

If you have a US startup called X and you don't have to content themselves anymore with a proxy audience of a few smart friends. When there are a lot of the pain of being an insider? If you have to move from filtering based on single words to an approach like this. There's a huge weight of expectation on his shoulders. This could explain the disconnect over cubicles. Till the rise of technology startups, and in reviews I keep noticing words like provocative and controversial. Com of their name. If you're an outsider, you're just one step away from getting things done. But hacking is like writing. There are two main kinds of error that get in the way we do. But when you choose a number based on your own a priori theories of what the world needs, but that no one else is either.

But it's gone now. Gmail also showed how much you could do a lot better. If someone starts being rude, other users will step in and tell them to stop. More generally, you can write any program in any of them. That's what I remember about grad school: apparently endless supplies of time, if your company wants to make a profit of 50% on the new hire mentioned above. It now seems inevitable that applications will live on the web—not just email, but everything, right up to Photoshop. If you make something and people complain that it doesn't work so well for: the kind where it helps to have everything in one head? The reason I know that naming companies is a distinct skill orthogonal to the others you need in a startup is that I happen to have it. There are two kinds of spams I have trouble filtering are those from companies in e. There are two main kinds of error that get in the way of seeing a work of art is good: they mean it would engage any human. Well, that may be fine advice for a bunch of kids with webcams can be than mass-produced sitcoms.

One difference I've noticed between great hackers and smart people in general is that hackers are more politically incorrect. But there is a great deal of play in these numbers. And you might have trouble hiring programmers. This is particularly true with companies, who have not only skill and pride anchoring them to the status quo, but money as well. They seem to work just as well without, however, approach our goal from another direction, by using ourselves as guinea pigs. Tests are least hackable when there are consistent standards for quality, and the number one language is probably Perl. 167. And when people seem to be of the form x meets y.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Original Sci-Fi RP, MxF, Email.

Hello all. I really wish I could do a TL;DR for the length of this post I have before you but there’s just too much stuff to go over. Also I talk a lot, so this is some preparation for if you decide to write with me. There’ll be some reading. I’ll just apologize in advance for blabbing. SORRY.

First, some things about me. I write too much, and I have a habit of repeating myself, sorry. I work full time, have other engagements on top of that. I will do my best to reply at least once a week. I’d like to also mention that when I get super excited about a RP, and a combination of having a bit more time on my hands (In about two weeks I get a week vacation, yay), I can sometimes respond the same day, or more than once. But it really depends on my schedule and how much I write. Oh yeah, and that’s about 400-800 average per character. Rarely less, but sometimes a lot more, if we’re needing to set the scene for something or just crazy stuff be happening. But anyway, yes if it’s less, you’ll get more often. I get very into it. As for how much for you to write, you don't need to match me by any means. I do like someone who is willing to write more, to set characters up and scenes up, so I find multi-paragraph more satisfying, though if it's an action oriented or communication heavy part of the RP I of course understand, it doesn't always have to be super, super long. 

I’m in my mid-twenties, and I’d like you to be over 18. Because I also really like angst. I love torturing characters with really heart-rending situations. I like punishing the poor people, although I’ll also mention that I’m a sucker for happy endings. I describe things in a lot of detail. Gore, smut, etc. I’m fine with fading to black if the characters have just been going at again and again but for the most part I don’t want to just shy away from the darker, grittier stuff. I like me that real emotional, intense RP.

I don’t want to forget this within this sea of babble, but I write only on email. It’s just easier for me to keep track of it. Google docs is fine as well. And I love, love OOC chat for discussing and talking, but for that I only have google hangouts. My email is: Klaasachen@gmail.com.

I don’t really ‘use’ face claims, but I definitely can. To be honest, I usually have a person in mind when I’m describing them, so if you do use face claims, that’s perfectly fine with me. Also, I’m in Mountain Standard Time (MST).  

So here goes, I know a lot of RPs have a trouble starting up. We sit down, talk, discuss and sometimes there’s continued interest, sometimes not. Which is fine, but I thought I’d try something different. Below, probably way, way, way below, I’ll have intros I’ve already prepared. As of right now, since I’ve been playing Detroit: Become Human, I want to write something in that particular genre. Not the same universe. Original, but the same concept. To those who haven’t played Detroit, you don’t need to. Basically the concept I want to explore (very similar to that of the TV show Almost Human, although I haven’t seen it) is a world with humans and androids, sometime in the future, sixty, seventy years or something. Specifically, I want to explore the relationship between Detective Partners, one being human, and one being an android, shiny and new. For this, I’ve picked the female android with hopes of a male detective partner. It was a super fun relationship in Detroit, and I really wanted to go through it myself, though as a longer, more drawn out story. That slow burn, though. I write MxF, love me that slow burn romance and I also like doubling, and another relationship I’d be down to explore, and the second intro below, is a male android bodyguard and their female charge. It was the thought that they’d be the child of someone important, rich, like a senator’s daughter, president even, or a movie star. Again, if you don’t find the second story I’ve provided interesting, I will not in any way force you to write it anyway. We’ll simply drop it, and that’s fine.

But I want to stress this part. I’m not trying to control the RP, I’m really not. I absolutely LOVE discussing, brainstorming and world building together. I don’t want to direct the RP, I want to explore it together. The reason I love RPing so much is bouncing my ideas with someone else because they get SO MUCH BETTER. These intros are just to give us some starting ground, and if I say I’m thinking that the Male Detective is some gruff, tortured rule-breaker, and the Female Protectee is perhaps some in her twenties partier or university student, these are just IDEAS, I promise. These are your characters, and if you hate the direction I’ve tried to nudge them in for the sake of the intro, that’s perfectly understandable, and we can change so many of the things. I’m here to listen.

I also don’t want you to think that I’ve wrote this because I hate talking to people and I just want them to send off an intro without that terrible talking to me part. Not at all. Have any questions, any at all? PLEASE send them my way, I’d love to talk with you! You might notice that I’ve made the first intro super long, because I’m trying to give as much information as I can. The second one is much shorter, because that was less my territory. I didn’t want to force any last names, or race or anything, I just wanted to provide bare bones. Also, please forgive my terrible lack of knowledge about rankings and the technical aspects of actually writing Detectives and the Police Force, I’m Canadian and I used those ranks. I can switch to USA if it makes it easier, just in the hopes you tell me how it works, because I’m terribly ignorant.

Alright, I’m sorry with bashing you all around for this long, below are the two Intros.

1

Police Model TPD-101 stepped into the Police Station. More than a few looks were thrown toward TPD-101, for even though there was a badge attached to belt, shiny and unmistakable, just as unmistakable was the perfect poise, unwrinkled clothing and not a single hair out of place. It could not be blamed on abnormal meticulousness—it was just abnormal. More obvious was the band one centimeter wide, starting above the right brow and ending at the temple. It was clear, save for above the brow, where a square shape glowed a calm blue. Regardless of this easy identification, TPD-101 had been expected. Expected too, were the indistinct whispers, soft shaking of heads. Their words could have been detected by enhanced hearing, but a lack of permission kept auditory levels at 20-20,000 Hz, as a normal human might.

TPD-101 processed a light optical scan of their surroundings; the building was crowded, busy without being overloaded by any crises. The average daily intake of Division 51’s Station. The floor was an unstained marble, still early enough in the day to avoid any spills or disarray that were sure to occur. Fairly new maple wood panelling displayed ‘POLICE’ in large, gold plated letters. It was austere, devoid of many pictures on the wall. Informative magazines were set on the tables between the waiting benches. The lobby itself was closed off, the stairs to the back corner, the elevator set to the left of the help desk. The ceiling was glass, large rectangular panes, that through there the Headquarter’s six other levels could be seen; the glass balconies that surrounded the lobby as if it were a wall.

TPD-101 had never been on the premises of Division 51 before, but they had familiarized themselves with the blueprints. In truth, they did not need an escort, but obediently followed the Police Officer assigned to them. The Officer’s name was Theresa Ramirez. She was of Hispanic descent, medium built, with a stature of three inches and five feet.  She had been waiting on the curb when TPD-101 had arrived. Though her introduction had been polite, TPD-101 had detected their discomfort; failing to keep eye contact, a brusque manner and an excessive pulling at the strands of her dark brown hair that had fallen loose from her braid. She held a coffee in hand, doing her best to disengage small talk with other officers by not halting her stride, managing a polite smile at those who attempted.

 “Interesting company you got there, Ramirez,” one male said, drifting in front of their path, not so easily deterred. A facial scan quickly identified him as John Perl, another constable. He was Caucasian, with a square face, clean-shaven, but his dark blue uniform was wrinkled, unkempt, and his hair was ruffled and uncombed.

“Greetings, Constable Perl.” TPD-101 spoke in a calm, relaxed manner with a friendly smile, showing only the barest slivers of white, perfect teeth. “I am model TPD-101, but I have been assigned the name Jade Wu. I am pleased to meet your acquaintance.” She extended her hand.

Perl’s eyebrows raised, the creases in his forehead deepening. He barely spared TPD-101’s outstretched hand a glance before looking to Ramirez.

“This is supposed to join the homicide detectives? Bit of a jump. From being traffic controllers and writing off speeding tickets. Give me a break.”

Ramirez shrugged her shoulders, quiet. She didn’t speak in either opposition or agreement, but her hazel eyes flickered towards the elevator. TPD-101 gathered that she would rather complete her objective than continue this conversation. TPD-101, however, tried again.

“It is true that the first androids to work with the Police Force were assigned subordinate tasks, but I assure you, I have been specially designed to carry out all aspects required of a detective—and more. I am fully equipped with forensic knowledge and—“

The constable ignored TPD-101 again, looking pointedly in Ramirez’ direction.

“What a joke. How is it going to interrogate suspects? Annoy them into confessing?”

“I don’t know, man.” Ramirez muttered in response. “Look, the Superintendent wanted it up right away.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Perl waved a hand. “Go on, get this train wreck started.”

Ramirez shook her head and headed towards the elevator. TPD-101 nodded and smiled again in Perl’s direction. She had been ordered to be polite, and treat all Officers with unduly respect. “It is nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, Clanker,” Perl rolled his eyes and downed a large swig of coffee.

Ramirez directed them into the left, and they slid into the enclosed space. A mirror covered the entire length of the wall opposing the door and TPD-101 took in the sight. There appeared to be two females, one entirely devoid of emotion on their face the other with an expression attempting to be placid. Perl’s eyes flickered to TPD-101 more than once, and lines on her youthful face would deepen, followed by the thinning of her lips. TPD-101 glanced at their own reflection; a delicate circular face with an angular chin, a small but defined mouth, a round nose, and dark eyes in an impeccable almond shape. Their pale skin and sleek black hair completed the look; it was designed to be easily distinguished as East Asian, Chinese specifically. It was also deceptively fragile looking; at an exact height of five inches past five feet and a figure that looked to weigh no more than a hundred and ten pounds. That observation would be inaccurate, as an Android’s body parts were heavier than that of a human’s normal muscle and bone mass. 

“They gave you a name?” Ramirez spoke. TPD-101 regarded her in silence; due to the human’s earlier reticence, TPD-101 had determined the chances of her speaking out of anything other than necessity to be relatively low.

“Yes. You may use it if you like.” TPD-101 answered promptly, turning their body towards Ramirez with a respectful nod. Social adequacies were integral in their programming, and their lips shifted into a polite smile. “Thank you for being my escort, Constable Ramirez.”

Ramirez could not hold back a light scoff, the furrows in her brow deepening. TPD-101 noted that in their memory. Despite terabytes of data on human behavior and psychology, they had not been able to construct a predictable response, at least not on a whole. They would have to build it on experience, one individual at a time. It was a daunting task. But from initial observation, TPD-101 could tell that attempting trifling pleasantry would not earn Ramirez’ trust.

The rest of the walk was met in silence. It was not far from the elevator to the next corridor. They stepped through a glass door, fogged out so it was not transparent. Gold letters glinted at them. Detective Bureau: Homicide Unit. TPD-101 glanced at the words longer than necessary; their memory banks retained all visual information captured by their optics. They had been activated only a month ago with the knowledge that they would be joining the city’s crime unit as a supporting detective. Still, it was different to be confronted with the reality of it all, instead of the numerous simulations they had run to better prepare. If they were a human, they would be nervous.

As an android, they were simply anticipatory, and if there was a hesitation to step after Ramirez and past the glass walls, it was less than a millisecond.

TPD-101 had little time to take in their surroundings; several desks, clumped together, an evidence board, clear lighting and the same pristine marble flooring before a man was striding towards them. Tall, imposing, it took him only a few steps to reach them. A quick scan of his eye identified him as Staff Superintendent Anthony Dallas, an African-American male in his mid-fifties. His head was bald, but there were flecks of gray in his brows, and numerous wrinkles creased his skin. He had had a decorated career as an officer, and there were a plentiful amount of articles regarding Dallas within TPD-101’s data banks. It was nearly strictly public knowledge; police files were more restricted, and they would be granted to TPD-101 as the Superintendent and his superiors saw fit. He struck out his large hand. A practiced, easy gesture, TPD-101 took it and shook it firmly, lips drawn into a pleasant smile.

“Superintendent Dallas,” TPD-101 spoke. “I am pleased to meet you. I am model TPD-101. For this assignment, I have been given the moniker of Jade Wu.” It had been decided that TPD-101 needed a name, especially in contact with civilians, as being given a name over simply their model number proved to be more settling.

“Welcome.” Dallas returned in a gruff tone. He turned his broad shoulders towards Ramirez. “Thank you, Constable. Dismissed.”

“Sir.” Ramirez stood straight, nodded, and turned away without a second glance at TPD-101.

“Thank you for your company, Constable,” TPD-101 said cheerfully to the officer’s departing back. There was no response.

“If you’ll follow me,” Dallas continued, leading TPD-101 past the bullpen, as the area of desks was often called. A few detectives mulled about, though TPD-101 was unable to check their eyes for appropriate identification. There was little time to linger regardless, and they were ushered into a glass enclosed office. A man was already in there, of Indian heritage, relatively young, with thick black hair that curled liberally, some falling over the thin frame of his glasses. He had a square jaw, clean-cut, and despite the unruliness of his hair, his clothes were perfectly fastidious, with hardly a crease or a wrinkle to be seen. He was much shorter than the Superintendent, and held himself at a slight slump. He smiled, a placid smile, though his eyes were shrewd, scrutinizing TPD-101. The irises were a dark brown, and TPD-101 studied them briefly to locate his profile. Dasra Nayar, Staff Inspector of Division 51, who headed the Homicide Unit and directly reporting to Dallas.

Dallas relayed this information automatically, and TPD-101 did not interject to announce they were already aware of this information—humans did not like to be interrupted, nor did they like to hear their information was superfluous.

“Jade Wu, right?” Nayar asked, to which TPD-101 nodded and smiled.

“If it pleases you, sir. That is my assigned designation.”

“It’s agreeable, of course.” Nayar nodded with an amicable grin. “We couldn’t go by calling you by your model designation. 101, you’re the first of your kind, correct?”

It was not likely that this knowledge was unknown to either Nayar or Dallas, regardless, TPD-101 was programmed to answer any questions brought to it, whether or not they might deem them unnecessary. “Yes. I am the first of androids specifically designed to aid the detective branch.”

“You won’t be a detective in your own right,” Dallas reminded. “You’re assigned to a partner. You’ll follow them, and they will be supervising you. Continually. You’re not to go off by yourself. Is that understood?”

“Of course, sir.” TPD-101 answered genially, already familiarized with these protocols. They were programmed into their memory banks, readily available at a second’s notice. “I understand.”

“You answer to your partner, unless overruled by a superior.” Dallas continued in his gruff tone. “The superior being a member of the Task Force, not your company.”

“Sir,” TPD-101 protested. “I am aware that previous Police Models were made by Microsoft Corporation. They were designed to aid the Police Force, not to siphon information. Intel Corporation is no different. I assure you that they secured this contract out of competency, and while they are my manufacturer, you are my employer. They handle repairs, and will update my programming based on your suggestions. My data is not uploaded to them without the Chief Of Police’s express permission. I am one of your own.”

Dallas did not hide his scoff, straightening the tie at his neck. “One of our own. I wouldn’t call you that. And no-one here will either.”

“Does that bother you?” Nayar asked, his scrutinizing gaze focused on TPD-101.

“No,” TPD-101 answered plainly. “I have been programmed to succeed despite adversity. Obstacles are to be expected.” TPD-101 watched the muscles around Dallas’ mouth tighten, throwing another glance towards Nayar. “I am here to assist. Together, we will make the world a better place.”

“Of course we will,” Nayar said warmly, though his eyes did not change. TPD-101 was programmed to assess facial expression for clues, able to monitor heartbeat for increased stress, but the Staff Inspector was more difficult to read. Without any data telling them otherwise, TPD-101 took Nayar’s words as sincere.

They went over guidelines for another twenty-three minutes and sixteen seconds. TPD-101 was informed also of the structure: eighteen detectives worked on a regular basis, in pairs. They were overseen by two Staff Sergeants, who in turn reported to the Staff Inspector, Nayar. At the end of each day, before stepping into TPD-101’s recharging unit, which was on the Precinct’s fifth floor, one above Homicide’s. The majority of evidence was kept up there, as well as the armory. TPD-101’s unit would be kept separate from the other Police Androids, nor would they have any contact with the other Androids without supervision and permission. That did not bother TPD-101. They had their purpose; TPD-101 had another.

At the end of the meeting, Dallas cleared his throat. He excused himself with a nod in TPD-101’s direction, shaking Nayar’s hands once more. Once the Superintendent was gone, the glass door closed behind him, Nayar turned his smile towards TPD-101. “Well, Jade Wu, shall we introduce you to your partner?” It was at that point TPD-101 made the indication in their CPU to refer to themselves as Jade Wu from that point on.

“Of course,” Jade Wu responded, their mouth curling into a placid smile. “I would very much like that.” Stating a desire, one way or another, settled humans. Jade followed Nayar back out into the bullpen, towards one of the quartets or desks. One desk was pristine, not anything but the thin, curved monitors, keyboard and an empty plaque on its surface. The others were not so empty, one very nearly buried in papers, and one only slightly more kempt. Two men stood in front of the desk, one leaning against it, coffee in hand as he spoke animatedly to his colleague. Both of them stood up straighter when they noticed Jade and Nayar’s approach. The taller one was of East Asian descent, Jade suspecting primarily Taiwan. From a glance at his dark brown eyes, Jade gathered name and rank. Detective Kuan-Yu Chen. He was standing at five feet, nine inches, in a well-ironed dark brown shirt, a black tie at his throat. He raised an eyebrow, but that was the extent of the change in his facial expression. He had light stubble on a sharp jaw and his file stated that he was in his early forties. Light specks of gray were seen in the crown of his thick, black hair, cut short along the sides but more volume at the front.

“Hey Inspector,” Chen’s companion spoke casually. He stood shorter, bare centimeters taller than Ling. He had a darker, bronze skin with hair a deep chocolate color, combed back but thick at the top of his skull. “How you doing, sir?” He continued. His eyes were a vivid green and brown, following Jade as they stepped closer. This Detective’s name was Mateo Vega, with Puerto Rican heritage. He wore a light blue shirt, mostly covered by a black leather jacket, a red tie just showing through.

“Fine, Detective Vega,” Nayar’s voice rumbled pleasantly. “I’m bringing Jade Wu to meet her new partner.”

“Ah, right,” Vega breathed. He exchanged a quick look with Chen. “Well he should be here any second. Just running a little late I think.”

  2

PSM-3500 booted up for the first time. What was nothing immediately turned into light, colors, data; information running through its processors. They determined they were within a house, stepping upon a vibrantly colored carpet, filled with spirals and shapes. At a closer glance, they might be able to determine the thread woven through it, for now they only determined it was expensive and antique. Around PSM-3500 were the remnants of their packaging, a metal constructed box, colored sleet gray with yellow lines running down its sides. PSM-3500 glowed in the top right corner. Not only did it keep PSM-3500 undamaged during travel, it would be reconstructed into a recharging unit. Everything needed to keep PSM-3500 functional came with them.

PSM-3500 was not alone. Two humans stood on the same expensive carpet, looking to one another. They were middle aged, a woman and a man. The woman had perfectly coiffed hair, dressed in a coral pantsuit. Pearls were her earrings of choice, her make-up mute, save for light pink lipstick, a hint of blush and highlighting eyeshadow. Pearls gathered at her throat, and a bracelet at her wrist completed the set. She had a sharply angled face, and her arms were crossed in front of her chest. While PSM-3500 perused her, she stared back intensely, her expression cool. On her left ring finger was a brilliant diamond ring. PSM-3500 could tell from her accessories, clothing and the décor of the room they were in that they were exceedingly rich.

It was not a surprise. PSM-3500 was the newest, most expensive model dedicated solely to personal protection. They were a bodyguard, built to protect, both physically and emotionally. They were built to be discreet, just under six feet, with a medium frame. Earlier protective models were tall and bulky, intimidation the biggest factor. But in the need that the android might need to slip through the crowd, keep their charge safe, it was decided that the less attention catching, the better. And while they might not intimidate by size alone, their deceptively immense strength was considered the larger asset.

The woman glanced at the man standing with her. He was tall, thin and wiry, with the same surly expression as the woman. He wore a light blue suit, a navy tie at his throat. Extravagant cuff links set in his shirt, pearl to match the woman’s.

“Well Harold,” The woman spoke, her tone severe. “You wanted an android for our daughter’s new bodyguard. Are you happy now?”

The man grumbled a sigh. “Well, Katherine, what did you want me to do after what happened to the last one?”

“That was his job. He protected her, as was his job. All it would take is a glitch from this one and it could be her funeral we’d be attending.”

“Katherine, these are the same Androids that protect the president. I was assured they were the best.”

Katherine scoffed, her fingers digging deeper into her arms. PSM-3500 took the opportunity to introduce itself.

“Hello. I am Protective Services Model 3500 from Microsoft Corporation. I am fully equipped to handle your safety. No matter the situation, I will protect you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Katherine answered, though from the tone of her voice and the narrowing of her eyes, PSM-3500 did not find it entirely sincere. It did not particularly matter. They were PSM-3500’s employers, and thus obedience and loyalty was absolute. They would fulfill their duties. Whoever they were assigned to protect, they would.

The woman sighed again, after a long look at the man PSM-3500 designated her husband. “Well you made your bed, Harold. Our son won’t be happy about this, either.”

“It’s not his bodyguard,” Harold pursed his lips, his wispy brow furrowing. “I don’t care what anti-android group he’s parading about with now. I’d rather be prepared, and in the meantime, I’d like to know our daughter’s protected when she’s not home.”

Katherine arched a thin eyebrow. PSM-3500 stayed silent. One of its directives was to wait to be addressed before speaking, overruled in only some situations. This was not one of them. Its owners seemed to have little concern over what PSM-3500’s opinion might be.

Katherine finally shrugged one shoulder in indifference. “Fine. I’ll go get her. We’ll see how happy she is about this new arrangement.”

 .x.

Alright, there you have it. I’m really sorry about the length of the posts, and these intros. I’d also like to mention that I know people get busy. If you can no longer continue with the RP you can always let me know and I’ll understand completely. And same goes for you: if I get too busy and I need a break or to stop writing, I’ll let you know. And if somehow I have more people than I expect wanting to tackle this monster, I’ll let you know as well, But I’m really not expecting more than one or two. Thank you so much for your time, I’m super sorry. And in case it got lost in that massive block up there, I’ll reiterate that my email is Klaasachen@gmail.com, and you can send any writing or questions there. And if not, I hope you find what you’re looking for!

[desperatelyseekingroleplay]

Sci-Fi Original RP, Email, MxF

Hello all, You can call me Klaas.  I really wish I could do a TL;DR for the length of this post I have before you but there’s just too much stuff to go over. Also I talk a lot, so this is some preparation for if you decide to write with me. There’ll be some reading. I’ll just apologize in advance for blabbing. SORRY.

First, some things about me. I write too much, and I have a habit of repeating myself, sorry. I work full time, have other engagements on top of that. I will do my best to reply at least once a week. I’d like to also mention that when I get super excited about a RP, and a combination of having a bit more time on my hands (In about two weeks I get a week vacation, yay), I can sometimes respond the same day, or more than once. But it really depends on my schedule and how much I write. Oh yeah, and that’s about 400-800 average per character. Rarely less, but sometimes a lot more, if we’re needing to set the scene for something or just crazy stuff be happening. But anyway, yes if it’s less, you’ll get more often. I get very into it. As for how much for you to write, you don’t need to match me by any means. I do like someone who is willing to write more, to set characters up and scenes up, so I find multi-paragraph more satisfying, though if it’s an action oriented or communication heavy part of the RP I of course understand, it doesn’t always have to be super, super long. 

I’m in my mid-twenties, and I’d like you to be over 18. Because I also really like angst. I love torturing characters with really heart-rending situations. I like punishing the poor people, although I’ll also mention that I’m a sucker for happy endings. I describe things in a lot of detail. Gore, smut, etc. I’m fine with fading to black if the characters have just been going at again and again but for the most part I don’t want to just shy away from the darker, grittier stuff. I like me that real emotional, intense RP.

I don’t want to forget this within this sea of babble, but I write only on email. It’s just easier for me to keep track of it. Google docs is fine as well. And I love, love OOC chat for discussing and talking, but for that I only have google hangouts. My email is: Klaasachen@gmail.com.

I don’t really ‘use’ face claims, but I definitely can. To be honest, I usually have a person in mind when I’m describing them, so if you do use face claims, that’s perfectly fine with me. Also, I’m in Mountain Standard Time (MST). 

So here goes, I know a lot of RPs have a trouble starting up. We sit down, talk, discuss and sometimes there’s continued interest, sometimes not. Which is fine, but I thought I’d try something different. Below, probably way, way, way below, I’ll have intros I’ve already prepared. As of right now, since I’ve been playing Detroit: Become Human, I want to write something in that particular genre. Not the same universe. Original, but the same concept. To those who haven’t played Detroit, you don’t need to. Basically the concept I want to explore (very similar to that of the TV show Almost Human, although I haven’t seen it) is a world with humans and androids, sometime in the future, sixty, seventy years or something. Specifically, I want to explore the relationship between Detective Partners, one being human, and one being an android, shiny and new. For this, I’ve picked the female android with hopes of a male detective partner. It was a super fun relationship in Detroit, and I really wanted to go through it myself, though as a longer, more drawn out story. I write MxF, love me that slow burn romance and I also like doubling, and another relationship I’d be down to explore, and the second intro below, is a male android bodyguard and their female charge. It was the thought that they’d be the child of someone important, rich, like a senator’s daughter, president even, or a movie star. Again, if you don’t find the second story I’ve provided interesting, I will not in any way force you to write it anyway. We’ll simply drop it, and that’s fine.

But I want to stress this part. I’m not trying to control the RP, I’m really not. I absolutely LOVE discussing, brainstorming and world building together. I don’t want to direct the RP, I want to explore it together. The reason I love RPing so much is bouncing my ideas with someone else because they get SO MUCH BETTER. These intros are just to give us some starting ground, and if I say I’m thinking that the Male Detective is some gruff, tortured rule-breaker, and the Female Protectee is perhaps some in her twenties partier or university student, these are just IDEAS, I promise. These are your characters, and if you hate the direction I’ve tried to nudge them in for the sake of the intro, that’s perfectly understandable, and we can change so many of the things. I’m here to listen.

I also don’t want you to think that I’ve wrote this because I hate talking to people and I just want them to send off an intro without that terrible talking to me part. Not at all. Have any questions, any at all? PLEASE send them my way, I’d love to talk with you! You might notice that I’ve made the first intro super long, because I’m trying to give as much information as I can. The second one is much shorter, because that was less my territory. I didn’t want to force any last names, or race or anything, I just wanted to provide bare bones. Also, please forgive my terrible lack of knowledge about rankings and the technical aspects of actually writing Detectives and the Police Force, I’m Canadian and I used those ranks. I can switch to USA if it makes it easier, just in the hopes you tell me how it works, because I’m terribly ignorant.

Alright, I’m sorry with bashing you all around for this long, below are the two Intros.

1

Police Model TPD-101 stepped into the Police Station. More than a few looks were thrown toward TPD-101, for even though there was a badge attached to belt, shiny and unmistakable, just as unmistakable was the perfect poise, unwrinkled clothing and not a single hair out of place. It could not be blamed on abnormal meticulousness—it was just abnormal. More obvious was the band one centimeter wide, starting above the right brow and ending at the temple. It was clear, save for above the brow, where a square shape glowed a calm blue. Regardless of this easy identification, TPD-101 had been expected. Expected too, were the indistinct whispers, soft shaking of heads. Their words could have been detected by enhanced hearing, but a lack of permission kept auditory levels at 20-20,000 Hz, as a normal human might.

TPD-101 processed a light optical scan of their surroundings; the building was crowded, busy without being overloaded by any crises. The average daily intake of Division 51’s Station. The floor was an unstained marble, still early enough in the day to avoid any spills or disarray that were sure to occur. Fairly new maple wood panelling displayed ‘POLICE’ in large, gold plated letters. It was austere, devoid of many pictures on the wall. Informative magazines were set on the tables between the waiting benches. The lobby itself was closed off, the stairs to the back corner, the elevator set to the left of the help desk. The ceiling was glass, large rectangular panes, that through there the Headquarter’s six other levels could be seen; the glass balconies that surrounded the lobby as if it were a wall.

TPD-101 had never been on the premises of Division 51 before, but they had familiarized themselves with the blueprints. In truth, they did not need an escort, but obediently followed the Police Officer assigned to them. The Officer’s name was Theresa Ramirez. She was of Hispanic descent, medium built, with a stature of three inches and five feet.  She had been waiting on the curb when TPD-101 had arrived. Though her introduction had been polite, TPD-101 had detected their discomfort; failing to keep eye contact, a brusque manner and an excessive pulling at the strands of her dark brown hair that had fallen loose from her braid. She held a coffee in hand, doing her best to disengage small talk with other officers by not halting her stride, managing a polite smile at those who attempted.

 “Interesting company you got there, Ramirez,” one male said, drifting in front of their path, not so easily deterred. A facial scan quickly identified him as John Perl, another constable. He was Caucasian, with a square face, clean-shaven, but his dark blue uniform was wrinkled, unkempt, and his hair was ruffled and uncombed.

“Greetings, Constable Perl.” TPD-101 spoke in a calm, relaxed manner with a friendly smile, showing only the barest slivers of white, perfect teeth. “I am model TPD-101, but I have been assigned the name Jade Wu. I am pleased to meet your acquaintance.” She extended her hand.

Perl’s eyebrows raised, the creases in his forehead deepening. He barely spared TPD-101’s outstretched hand a glance before looking to Ramirez.

“This is supposed to join the homicide detectives? Bit of a jump. From being traffic controllers and writing off speeding tickets. Give me a break.”

Ramirez shrugged her shoulders, quiet. She didn’t speak in either opposition or agreement, but her hazel eyes flickered towards the elevator. TPD-101 gathered that she would rather complete her objective than continue this conversation. TPD-101, however, tried again.

“It is true that the first androids to work with the Police Force were assigned subordinate tasks, but I assure you, I have been specially designed to carry out all aspects required of a detective—and more. I am fully equipped with forensic knowledge and—“

The constable ignored TPD-101 again, looking pointedly in Ramirez’ direction.

“What a joke. How is it going to interrogate suspects? Annoy them into confessing?”

“I don’t know, man.” Ramirez muttered in response. “Look, the Superintendent wanted it up right away.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Perl waved a hand. “Go on, get this train wreck started.”

Ramirez shook her head and headed towards the elevator. TPD-101 nodded and smiled again in Perl’s direction. She had been ordered to be polite, and treat all Officers with unduly respect. “It is nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, Clanker,” Perl rolled his eyes and downed a large swig of coffee.

Ramirez directed them into the left, and they slid into the enclosed space. A mirror covered the entire length of the wall opposing the door and TPD-101 took in the sight. There appeared to be two females, one entirely devoid of emotion on their face the other with an expression attempting to be placid. Perl’s eyes flickered to TPD-101 more than once, and lines on her youthful face would deepen, followed by the thinning of her lips. TPD-101 glanced at their own reflection; a delicate circular face with an angular chin, a small but defined mouth, a round nose, and dark eyes in an impeccable almond shape. Their pale skin and sleek black hair completed the look; it was designed to be easily distinguished as East Asian, Chinese specifically. It was also deceptively fragile looking; at an exact height of five inches past five feet and a figure that looked to weigh no more than a hundred and ten pounds. That observation would be inaccurate, as an Android’s body parts were heavier than that of a human’s normal muscle and bone mass. 

“They gave you a name?” Ramirez spoke. TPD-101 regarded her in silence; due to the human’s earlier reticence, TPD-101 had determined the chances of her speaking out of anything other than necessity to be relatively low.

“Yes. You may use it if you like.” TPD-101 answered promptly, turning their body towards Ramirez with a respectful nod. Social adequacies were integral in their programming, and their lips shifted into a polite smile. “Thank you for being my escort, Constable Ramirez.”

Ramirez could not hold back a light scoff, the furrows in her brow deepening. TPD-101 noted that in their memory. Despite terabytes of data on human behavior and psychology, they had not been able to construct a predictable response, at least not on a whole. They would have to build it on experience, one individual at a time. It was a daunting task. But from initial observation, TPD-101 could tell that attempting trifling pleasantry would not earn Ramirez’ trust.

The rest of the walk was met in silence. It was not far from the elevator to the next corridor. They stepped through a glass door, fogged out so it was not transparent. Gold letters glinted at them. Detective Bureau: Homicide Unit. TPD-101 glanced at the words longer than necessary; their memory banks retained all visual information captured by their optics. They had been activated only a month ago with the knowledge that they would be joining the city’s crime unit as a supporting detective. Still, it was different to be confronted with the reality of it all, instead of the numerous simulations they had run to better prepare. If they were a human, they would be nervous.

As an android, they were simply anticipatory, and if there was a hesitation to step after Ramirez and past the glass walls, it was less than a millisecond.

TPD-101 had little time to take in their surroundings; several desks, clumped together, an evidence board, clear lighting and the same pristine marble flooring before a man was striding towards them. Tall, imposing, it took him only a few steps to reach them. A quick scan of his eye identified him as Staff Superintendent Anthony Dallas, an African-American male in his mid-fifties. His head was bald, but there were flecks of gray in his brows, and numerous wrinkles creased his skin. He had had a decorated career as an officer, and there were a plentiful amount of articles regarding Dallas within TPD-101’s data banks. It was nearly strictly public knowledge; police files were more restricted, and they would be granted to TPD-101 as the Superintendent and his superiors saw fit. He struck out his large hand. A practiced, easy gesture, TPD-101 took it and shook it firmly, lips drawn into a pleasant smile.

“Superintendent Dallas,” TPD-101 spoke. “I am pleased to meet you. I am model TPD-101. For this assignment, I have been given the moniker of Jade Wu.” It had been decided that TPD-101 needed a name, especially in contact with civilians, as being given a name over simply their model number proved to be more settling.

“Welcome.” Dallas returned in a gruff tone. He turned his broad shoulders towards Ramirez. “Thank you, Constable. Dismissed.”

“Sir.” Ramirez stood straight, nodded, and turned away without a second glance at TPD-101.

“Thank you for your company, Constable,” TPD-101 said cheerfully to the officer’s departing back. There was no response.

“If you’ll follow me,” Dallas continued, leading TPD-101 past the bullpen, as the area of desks was often called. A few detectives mulled about, though TPD-101 was unable to check their eyes for appropriate identification. There was little time to linger regardless, and they were ushered into a glass enclosed office. A man was already in there, of Indian heritage, relatively young, with thick black hair that curled liberally, some falling over the thin frame of his glasses. He had a square jaw, clean-cut, and despite the unruliness of his hair, his clothes were perfectly fastidious, with hardly a crease or a wrinkle to be seen. He was much shorter than the Superintendent, and held himself at a slight slump. He smiled, a placid smile, though his eyes were shrewd, scrutinizing TPD-101. The irises were a dark brown, and TPD-101 studied them briefly to locate his profile. Dasra Nayar, Staff Inspector of Division 51, who headed the Homicide Unit and directly reporting to Dallas.

Dallas relayed this information automatically, and TPD-101 did not interject to announce they were already aware of this information—humans did not like to be interrupted, nor did they like to hear their information was superfluous.

“Jade Wu, right?” Nayar asked, to which TPD-101 nodded and smiled.

“If it pleases you, sir. That is my assigned designation.”

“It’s agreeable, of course.” Nayar nodded with an amicable grin. “We couldn’t go by calling you by your model designation. 101, you’re the first of your kind, correct?”

It was not likely that this knowledge was unknown to either Nayar or Dallas, regardless, TPD-101 was programmed to answer any questions brought to it, whether or not they might deem them unnecessary. “Yes. I am the first of androids specifically designed to aid the detective branch.”

“You won’t be a detective in your own right,” Dallas reminded. “You’re assigned to a partner. You’ll follow them, and they will be supervising you. Continually. You’re not to go off by yourself. Is that understood?”

“Of course, sir.” TPD-101 answered genially, already familiarized with these protocols. They were programmed into their memory banks, readily available at a second’s notice. “I understand.”

“You answer to your partner, unless overruled by a superior.” Dallas continued in his gruff tone. “The superior being a member of the Task Force, not your company.”

“Sir,” TPD-101 protested. “I am aware that previous Police Models were made by Microsoft Corporation. They were designed to aid the Police Force, not to siphon information. Intel Corporation is no different. I assure you that they secured this contract out of competency, and while they are my manufacturer, you are my employer. They handle repairs, and will update my programming based on your suggestions. My data is not uploaded to them without the Chief Of Police’s express permission. I am one of your own.”

Dallas did not hide his scoff, straightening the tie at his neck. “One of our own. I wouldn’t call you that. And no-one here will either.”

“Does that bother you?” Nayar asked, his scrutinizing gaze focused on TPD-101.

“No,” TPD-101 answered plainly. “I have been programmed to succeed despite adversity. Obstacles are to be expected.” TPD-101 watched the muscles around Dallas’ mouth tighten, throwing another glance towards Nayar. “I am here to assist. Together, we will make the world a better place.”

“Of course we will,” Nayar said warmly, though his eyes did not change. TPD-101 was programmed to assess facial expression for clues, able to monitor heartbeat for increased stress, but the Staff Inspector was more difficult to read. Without any data telling them otherwise, TPD-101 took Nayar’s words as sincere.

They went over guidelines for another twenty-three minutes and sixteen seconds. TPD-101 was informed also of the structure: eighteen detectives worked on a regular basis, in pairs. They were overseen by two Staff Sergeants, who in turn reported to the Staff Inspector, Nayar. At the end of each day, before stepping into TPD-101’s recharging unit, which was on the Precinct’s fifth floor, one above Homicide’s. The majority of evidence was kept up there, as well as the armory. TPD-101’s unit would be kept separate from the other Police Androids, nor would they have any contact with the other Androids without supervision and permission. That did not bother TPD-101. They had their purpose; TPD-101 had another.

At the end of the meeting, Dallas cleared his throat. He excused himself with a nod in TPD-101’s direction, shaking Nayar’s hands once more. Once the Superintendent was gone, the glass door closed behind him, Nayar turned his smile towards TPD-101. “Well, Jade Wu, shall we introduce you to your partner?” It was at that point TPD-101 made the indication in their CPU to refer to themselves as Jade Wu from that point on.

“Of course,” Jade Wu responded, their mouth curling into a placid smile. “I would very much like that.” Stating a desire, one way or another, settled humans. Jade followed Nayar back out into the bullpen, towards one of the quartets or desks. One desk was pristine, not anything but the thin, curved monitors, keyboard and an empty plaque on its surface. The others were not so empty, one very nearly buried in papers, and one only slightly more kempt. Two men stood in front of the desk, one leaning against it, coffee in hand as he spoke animatedly to his colleague. Both of them stood up straighter when they noticed Jade and Nayar’s approach. The taller one was of East Asian descent, Jade suspecting primarily Taiwan. From a glance at his dark brown eyes, Jade gathered name and rank. Detective Kuan-Yu Chen. He was standing at five feet, nine inches, in a well-ironed dark brown shirt, a black tie at his throat. He raised an eyebrow, but that was the extent of the change in his facial expression. He had light stubble on a sharp jaw and his file stated that he was in his early forties. Light specks of gray were seen in the crown of his thick, black hair, cut short along the sides but more volume at the front.

“Hey Inspector,” Chen’s companion spoke casually. He stood shorter, bare centimeters taller than Ling. He had a darker, bronze skin with hair a deep chocolate color, combed back but thick at the top of his skull. “How you doing, sir?” He continued. His eyes were a vivid green and brown, following Jade as they stepped closer. This Detective’s name was Mateo Vega, with Puerto Rican heritage. He wore a light blue shirt, mostly covered by a black leather jacket, a red tie just showing through.

“Fine, Detective Vega,” Nayar’s voice rumbled pleasantly. “I’m bringing Jade Wu to meet her new partner.”

“Ah, right,” Vega breathed. He exchanged a quick look with Chen. “Well he should be here any second. Just running a little late I think.”

2

PSM-3500 booted up for the first time. What was nothing immediately turned into light, colors, data; information running through its processors. They determined they were within a house, stepping upon a vibrantly colored carpet, filled with spirals and shapes. At a closer glance, they might be able to determine the thread woven through it, for now they only determined it was expensive and antique. Around PSM-3500 were the remnants of their packaging, a metal constructed box, colored sleet gray with yellow lines running down its sides. PSM-3500 glowed in the top right corner. Not only did it keep PSM-3500 undamaged during travel, it would be reconstructed into a recharging unit. Everything needed to keep PSM-3500 functional came with them.

PSM-3500 was not alone. Two humans stood on the same expensive carpet, looking to one another. They were middle aged, a woman and a man. The woman had perfectly coiffed hair, dressed in a coral pantsuit. Pearls were her earrings of choice, her make-up mute, save for light pink lipstick, a hint of blush and highlighting eyeshadow. Pearls gathered at her throat, and a bracelet at her wrist completed the set. She had a sharply angled face, and her arms were crossed in front of her chest. While PSM-3500 perused her, she stared back intensely, her expression cool. On her left ring finger was a brilliant diamond ring. PSM-3500 could tell from her accessories, clothing and the décor of the room they were in that they were exceedingly rich.

It was not a surprise. PSM-3500 was the newest, most expensive model dedicated solely to personal protection. They were a bodyguard, built to protect, both physically and emotionally. They were built to be discreet, just under six feet, with a medium frame. Earlier protective models were tall and bulky, intimidation the biggest factor. But in the need that the android might need to slip through the crowd, keep their charge safe, it was decided that the less attention catching, the better. And while they might not intimidate by size alone, their deceptively immense strength was considered the larger asset.

The woman glanced at the man standing with her. He was tall, thin and wiry, with the same surly expression as the woman. He wore a light blue suit, a navy tie at his throat. Extravagant cuff links set in his shirt, pearl to match the woman’s.

“Well Harold,” The woman spoke, her tone severe. “You wanted an android for our daughter’s new bodyguard. Are you happy now?”

The man grumbled a sigh. “Well, Katherine, what did you want me to do after what happened to the last one?”

“That was his job. He protected her, as was his job. All it would take is a glitch from this one and it could be her funeral we’d be attending.”

“Katherine, these are the same Androids that protect the president. I was assured they were the best.”

Katherine scoffed, her fingers digging deeper into her arms. PSM-3500 took the opportunity to introduce itself.

“Hello. I am Protective Services Model 3500 from Microsoft Corporation. I am fully equipped to handle your safety. No matter the situation, I will protect you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Katherine answered, though from the tone of her voice and the narrowing of her eyes, PSM-3500 did not find it entirely sincere. It did not particularly matter. They were PSM-3500’s employers, and thus obedience and loyalty was absolute. They would fulfill their duties. Whoever they were assigned to protect, they would.

The woman sighed again, after a long look at the man PSM-3500 designated her husband. “Well you made your bed, Harold. Our son won’t be happy about this, either.”

“It’s not his bodyguard,” Harold pursed his lips, his wispy brow furrowing. “I don’t care what anti-android group he’s parading about with now. I’d rather be prepared, and in the meantime, I’d like to know our daughter’s protected when she’s not home.”

Katherine arched a thin eyebrow. PSM-3500 stayed silent. One of its directives was to wait to be addressed before speaking, overruled in only some situations. This was not one of them. Its owners seemed to have little concern over what PSM-3500’s opinion might be.

Katherine finally shrugged one shoulder in indifference. “Fine. I’ll go get her. We’ll see how happy she is about this new arrangement.”

Alright, there you have it. I’m really sorry about the length of the posts, and these intros. I’d also like to mention that I know people get busy. If you can no longer continue with the RP you can always let me know and I’ll understand completely. And same goes for you: if I get too busy and I need a break or to stop writing, I’ll let you know. And if somehow I have more people than I expect wanting to tackle this monster, I’ll let you know as well, But I’m really not expecting more than one or two. Thank you so much for your time, I’m super sorry. And in case it got lost in that massive block up there, I’ll reiterate that my email is Klaasachen@gmail.com, and you can send any writing or questions there. And if not, I hope you find what you’re looking for!

[escaping-the-mundane]

Hi, Perl here ! Joining the Durarara fandom years late because I’m like that!!! 

I’ve actually watched the first season in 2014, and watched every episode of season 2 as soon as they came out, but never posted on my main about it. But honestly, as I’m rewatching the series yet again, I feel like there’s no reason I can’t make a blog for it now, even if the fandom’s kinda dead. 

Hopefully I will improve in drawing the characters, and make some izamika fanarts/fics :D 

[perlumi-delirium]

Last weekend I went to an event where they also sold second hand books, and I found this really interesting gem!! I know almost nothing about the subject since until now I haven’t studied Hugo’s portrayal of war before, so I think I will learn a lot with it!! I didn’t hesitate a second before buying it, because the book was made under the direction of Claude Millet, whom I love very much -she made one of the clearest and nicest books on Romanticism I’ve had the pleasure to read. (Granted, I’m no expert on the subject, but she’s definitely good at introducing what Romanticism is). 

This book is the result of a conference named, well, Hugo and War, that took place in Université Paris VII in 2002. 26 historians and researchers took part in the colloquium. 

If someone is interested in one of the specific articles, please feel free to reach out to me so I can try to send it to you thanks to the power pf hopefully not too awful pics. I intend to read this over the summer, so I may try my hand at translating an article if someone is really interested in one but doesn’t speak French. @pilferingapples I don’t know if you’ve seen this book before, but I’m pretty happy with it!! :D 

[claimed-by-the-web]

Usually when people experience a near-death event they change a bit as they learn to deal with the consequences

then there’s jonathan sims who continues to be as much of a disaster as he’s always been

[lamerdeseslarmes]

LOOK AT WHAT ARRIVED JUST IN TIME FOR MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!

I cannot thank @kindafooey enough!!! This was the best birthday present ever, I’ve wanted a small Bill for so long!! And now, courtesy of my best friend, who is an absolute sweetheart, I finally have one!! Plus my very own Journal 3!! :D I’ll need to be careful though, because I think Bill will definitely try to mess with it in the near future. Keep these hands to yourself Bill, the Journal is mine!!

[perlumi-delirium]

Confession time: I’ve never read something written by Théophile Gautier before. I had never had the occasion I guess, and never thought of borrowing one of his books at the library. But this weekend I found THIS!!!! AND LOOK HOW LOVELY THIS BOOK IS?? If I have a weakness, it’s pretty books, so I’m really excited! The drawings are lovely, drawn on each inner cover. I unfortunately haven’t found the print date yet? I’m guessing 1950-60, but I’m not sure, I’m pretty bad at guessing dates lol. I will update if I find more info!! 

@pilferingapples sorry to tag you again, but I thought you might be interested? :D

[perlumi-delirium]

The Pléiade edition for Les Misérables is a 2018 novelty, and since I happen to own it, I decided to share a few pics in case the fandom was wondering was it looked like ^^ ( @flo-nelja @pilferingapples I thought you’d be interested!!) For those who don’t know, the Pléiade is a really elegant edition of books considered masterpieces. Only the most praised authors get their works published in the Pléiade! Of course, Victor Hugo is one of them, and Les Misérables finally made it to a stand alone book. The book may look fairly thin when one knows just how long the Brick is, but that’s part of the particularity of a Pléiade: silky soft paper, so thin you feel like a breeze could rip it. It’s the kind of collector edition you don’t just leave in your bag for months! And though it doesn’t look like it, the book is ~1750 pages long! So, what makes a Pléiade so special, you ask? Let me walk you through it! Unfortunately my mediocre skills in photography don’t do justice to the book, so forgive me for this ^^ 

pics 1 to 3: As you can see, it’s a hardcover book, with two green fabric bookmarks bound to the book. Nothing really special to it other than the fact that the text is written quite small, in a font unique to the Pléiade, where a small loop bind the ‘c’ or ‘s’ to the letter ‘t’ when they follow each other.

pic 4 and 5: a handful of black and white illustration pages showcase some of Hugo’s drawings for the story. Here, a drawing entitled ‘Miseria’ made for the “frontispiece of the novel”, Gavroche, and Thenardier, as imagined by Hugo!

pic 6: two manuscript pages written by Hugo; notes taken during his research to write “Waterloo”.

pic 7: there are some pages dedicated to drawings, engravings and photographs of the characters! Here, Cosette.

pic 8 and 9: press drawings!! Complete with a small text to make the reader laugh/react! My two favorite drawings read:

[under the flower] Portrait of Fantine

[under the man blatantly wiping tears with a handkerchief] End of Volume I. Here the reader wipes a tear.

pic 10: an extensive note section!! (there is almost 150 pages worth of notes, written in tiny tiny text!) I personally find the notes very helpful, the section was done with great care.

If you read French and are really passionate about Les Misérables, I think you  will probably love this edition (though I still keep my pocket edition for notetaking and casual rereading)! But let’s not kid ourselves: the Pléiade remains an elitist and pricy edition, so it can be hard to come upon one. That’s why I wanted to share a few snippets of it!! I hope some of you will find interest in this post. I will gladly discuss it more at length with anyone who asks, my askbok is always open. So if you have a question in mind, feel free to drop by! :D

[perlumi-delirium]

A bit of rambling ramble under the cut

I honestly don’t know what I’ve been doing these past months. Even excluding the fact that I seem to have no recollection of febrary at all, I feel like my feelings on things have shifted so much that I’m at a loss of what to do. Maybe it’s because I’m growing up, maybe it’s because of something else, but I’ve become pretty distant with a lot of fandom stuff these past months. Well, to be entirely truthful, I did continue to spend time in fandom, but away from this account and the memories it ties me to. It feels a bit like running away, somehow. I’ve made another identity for myself, another account -away from tumblr entirely, I can’t keep up with this website these days. 

What I’m trying to say I guess is that I don’t even know how to approach some fandoms I was in before January happened. Particularily the TMA fandom, since that was my main point of focus at the time. It’s been really strange for me to realize that I don’t actually... feel like interacting with the fandom at all, when fandom has been essential to my enjoyment of something for several years now. 

But when it comes to TMA I feel like I’m just... indifferent? Maybe it’s because I actually have IRL friends I can chat with when I want to talk about it. (Neja, Chyw, Uni, if you see this I love you very much and I love our conversations!!) Or maybe it’s because it’s a podcast and I proceed things differently? Idk. 

It just has become clearer and clearer for me over the past weeks that I’ve been away because I actually wanted to be away, and not because I just couldn’t come back. 

It feels super strange to say, but I... don’t want to read tma fics all that much? I don’t want to listen to theories, or interact with people I don’t know and get stressed about way too many things again for no reason. I’m fine doing it with my friends, but actually interacting with strangers again, for the sake of fandom? It seems impossible to me. At least for this fandom. 

I enjoy doodling occasional potential designs of some characters, but I don’t want to share them either -because I’ve got that shitty fear that they’re either not interesting enough or just meh, idk. I’m sure nobody would judge me, it’s more that I don’t want anyone to ever take whatever I’m doing seriously when I honestly have legit forgotten things I have done recently. Sometimes I find a drawing that I don’t remember drawing, or a fic idea that doesn’t feel like my own, and I’m convinced my brain’s playing tricks on me. (okay, it sounds bad and ominous when I put it like that, but I swear that for the most part I’m okay, I’ve just had a rough year so far.)

I’m tired of stressing myself out for something that should -and for the most part actually and truly is- fun. So yeah. I still can’t believe I’m saying this, because it doesn’t feel like... me, you know, but I don’t want to draw fanart and put it on my blog, I don’t wanna listen to theories all that much, I don’t want to read fics I’ll never be able to write comments for... I just... don’t and it’s making me feel shitty. 

I’ve been coming to terms with it. It shouldn’t have been this hard, tbh, but fandom has been such an essential part of me for the past years that I just can’t seem to fathom a life without it. And I’m not saying goodbye to fandom alltogether! There are shows and animes that continue to draw me in, so I’ll probably continue to create content for them, although maybe it will never be on this account again. 

But I probably won’t ever write something TMA related. I do feel like I’d enjoy looking at more fanarts sometimes, so maybe I’ll come to do that from time to time. But I don’t want to read fics, or theories, or just, take it all seriously again. I don’t care for ships or AUs or whatever, I just want to cry over Melanie and Daisy and be done with it.

Just thinking about reading a fic and writing a review utterly exhausts me in advance, I don’t know why. I don’t wanna feel guilty again for reading fic without commenting, or even worse, feeling guilty because I don’t read fic when someone recced me one or something. 

I love TMA to death, but I also feel like I’m more comfortable loving it from afar, and being pretty much passive in my enjoyment of it. It’s a weird feeling. It’s not necessarily a bad one. I’m fine with being a nobody, a “casual” fan, whatever. I don’t want anyone to have expectations for me. I’ll just do my own thing, away. And it’s not a bad thing! I just need to truly believe it’s not a bad thing. 

This post is probably a mess, but I felt like I needed to put it into words. If you read this then, idk, thank you for being curious about my thoughts when you have no obligation to?