#would be better off to just give him communication cards but i like the tablet idea more

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 115

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,010ish

Summary: Y/N is struggling to cope with everything. (Hopefully this chapter makes sense.)

Needing to get back to Talbot, Coulson took Fitz-Simmons with him, leaving Y/N in the hands of Mack and Yo-Yo, while May started searching for a place where they could keep Y/N safe. Simmons had given Y/N something to help her sleep before she left, allowing Y/N to get some rest. 

Talbot wasn’t happy that Coulson had left him but willingly listened as Coulson and Fitz-Simmons fully explained the situation with Hive and Daisy. As they did so, Talbot’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at the message, unhappy with what he was reading.

“I need you to cut the shit now, Coulson,” Talbot interrupted. “I’ve just been informed that Y/N Rogers is missing. And having not signed the Accords and being enhanced that means she’s a fugitive, like her brother. Where is she?”

“We don’t know,” Coulson quickly lied, holding a steady poker face. “She hasn’t reach out. And if she’s smart, like I believe she is, then she won’t.”

Talbot stepped up into Coulson’s face. “If I find out Rogers here, SHIELD’s done for.”

“She’s not. All cards on the table. Besides, our focus should be on stopping Hive, not searching for Y/N. She wasn’t even apart of the fight in Germany. I saw the footage myself.”

“Okay then, what do you have for stopping him?”

“We’re exploring some options.”

“Options? That’s what you’ve got? You told me this thing could take out an entire planet. I got an option for ya, a preemptive strike. This isn’t a job for SHIELD. This a job for the United States military.”

“You want to make that call? Go ahead. But you’ll probably lose them at ‘devil’.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Talbot signaled for Coulson to not answer that before turning around and sighing. “Wouldn’t tell them the truth.” 

“Even if they could be convinced, by the time we dealt with all their second guessing and red tape, whatever Hive’s planning would already be done.”

“We shouldn’t act without knowing the last piece of the puzzle,” Fitz said. “Hive and his hole-in-the-wall gang recently stole something from an ATCU facility in Indiana. Till we find out where that is…”

“Acting without all the information could make things worse,” Simmons added. “It could be what Hive wants. He was the only thing to survive on that planet, and he survived for a reason.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Talbot asked.

“Trust us,” Coulson replied. 

Fitz’s tablet beeped, causing all of them to come around and look at it.

  “Oh, Daisy’s back in the system,” Fitz stated. “She circumnavigated the anti-subversion code and gained access to Lincoln.” 

Fitz quickly pulled up the feed to Lincoln’s cell. He was seemingly asleep.

“That boy sure sleeps a lot,” Talbot commented.

“Unless…” Fitz muttered, playing with the video.

“It’s a pre-recorded loop,” Simmons stated.

~~~

“I didn’t know we had an Avenger on the team,” Yo-Yo commented as Mack watched over Y/N.

“Yeah…” Mack sighed. “Coulson likes to keep that on the down low. For her safety and ours.”

“When was the last time any of you saw her?”

“It’s been months with no contact. Honestly, I thought she was doing better than this. Guess I was wrong… no one should know how it feels to lose a child. No one.”

Yo-Yo watched Mack carefully. She knew that he was hiding something but wasn’t ready to pry just yet.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m good.”

She nodded, watching him a little while longer before taking her leave. Mack sighed again before slowly setting his hand on top of hers. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Y/N/N, but I lost a child too,” he said quietly. “Her name was Hope. She lived to be four days old… so I understand a bit of what you’re going through and I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, the base’s emergency alarm started sounding. It was loud enough to break Y/N from her sleep.

“Wh-what’s happen—ing?” She croaked, unable to focus.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Mack said, standing. “But I’ll find out.” He went to leave and that’s when Y/N realized he was the only one in there with her.

“No! Please… don’t go…”

“If the base is in trouble, I have to see if they need help. I’ll be back as soon as I can or send someone for you, alright?” He turned again to leave.

“Mack…” He paused at the door, waiting for her to continue. “What happened to you?”

He sighed as you continued to take in his bruises and arm in a sling. “Daisy happened.”

~~~

Y/N was struggling to stay still, the alarm had just stopped and she wanted to see if her friends were okay. Getting out of bed was the easy part, it was walking that took a lot of her energy. She stumbled out of the room and walked along the walls, leaning into them. Following her gut, Y/N made her way to the common room. There she saw General Talbot, Coulson, Fitz, Lincoln, May, Simmons, Mack, and a new girl standing around the table. She leaned against a pillar, out of sight from the others.

“We knew Daisy was listening and monitoring our every move,” Lincoln explained. “So we couldn’t tell anyone. She had to believe it was all real.”

“I communicated with him by leaving messages on his food trays,” May stated.

“You forgot the message about not hurting his friend,” the new girl said.

“Sorry, Mack,” Lincoln said. “I didn’t have any other option.”

“Mack wasn’t supposed to be there,” May replied, giving him a knowing look.

“Excuse me for doing my job,” Mack said.

“The plan depended on Daisy listening to everything so that she’s trust me and believe that I really wanted out,” Lincoln continued. 

“You had me fooled,” Talbot commented.

“Even though I wanted to, I never trusted Daisy… not under Hive’s control. I knew that she wouldn’t be the one to greet me, no matter what she said.”

“But what about the other risks? Lash could kill Daisy,” Mack stated. “Did you stop to think about that?”

Hive? Lash? Daisy under someone’s control? All of this was confusing Y/N, but really only because she couldn’t really focus fully. Her brain was all a mess.

“It’s a risk we had to take,” Lincoln said. “But he had the opportunity once before, and he let her go. I don’t think he’s meant to kill her.”

“Who put him on the Quinjet?” Talbot asked.

“I did,” May answered, “while Coulson was keeping you distracted.”

“You knew about this?”

“I run a tight ship,” Coulson replied.

“Why do you think this Lash can defeat Hive? And who in tarnation names these things?”

“Every Inhuman is here for a reason and serves a purpose,” Lincoln explained. “I believe Lash’s purpose is to kill Hive.”

“Now, we just wait and see what happens,” Coulson said.

“Right,” Talbot agreed with a nod.

Everyone began heading out. Y/N, too weak to form a portal, slid down the pillar, slowly losing consciousness. She heard footsteps coming towards her.

“Shit,” Mack muttered as he found her like that. “I need a little help over here!”

Everyone, including Talbot raced over.

“Oh my—“

“I thought you said you didn’t know where Y/N was, Coulson?” Talbot said. “You’ve been lying.”

“I’ve had to,” Coulson defended. “Look at her. She’s not a harm to anyone.”

“She needs to be in government custody and to—“

“She needs to be here! She’s been through—going through a trauma. She is staying here.”

“You don’t get to make that call, Coulson.”

“But I do. Because, right now, I’m pretty sure I’m the only family Y/N has left.” 

Fitz lifted her off the ground, with Lincoln and Simmons checking her over. Talbot looked over and watched.

“Do you know what happened?” Talbot asked, eyes not leaving Y/N.

“Not much,” Coulson answered. “Only that she lost her child.” Talbot’s head snapped to look at Coulson. “Y/N was pregnant, but she—“

“Isn’t anymore. I got that.” 

Talbot looked back at Y/N. Fitz was still holding her close as Simmons and Lincoln fretted over her. The rest of them watched Talbot, wondering what he was going to do.

“I only have one kid,” Talbot said. “My wife has had 6 miscarriages…. You can take care of her, but once she’s back to full health, she’s the governments.”

“Let’s get her to the med bay,” Simmons suggested.

They rushed Y/N to the med bay, quickly getting her set up and comfortable there. Coulson took his spot at her side. If Tony, Steve, and Bucky weren’t allowed to be here, he was going to make sure that she knew someone was on her side. Coulson observed her and wondered what could have happened in the last week. There was a light bruise of a handprint on her neck and dark purple bags forming under her eyes. It pained him to think about what she was going through, with the loss of seemingly her whole life.

“We still haven’t heard anything about Daisy,” May stated, entering the part of the lab Y/N and Coulson were in. “How is she?”

“Stable,” Coulson answered, keeping his focus on Y/N, “for now… I keep wondering… what the hell happened? The team fell apart and it left her like this. I don’t know if I want to know exactly what happened.”

“She’ll bounce back. Y/N always does.”

“But what if she doesn’t this time? What if this is the thing that breaks her? She lost her child, May. Then found her way here instead of with Tony or Steve.”

“Y/N knows she’s always welcome here. She was smart to come here.”

“What do you think—“

“Ragtag base, come in,” Daisy’s voice came over the bases PA system. “This is Agent Daisy Johnson… I’m coming home. Repeat… I’m coming home.”

~~~

Coulson ordered two agents to greet Daisy in the hanger and cuff her, just in case. They all, except Y/N, waited at the base’s door to the hanger. When Daisy walked in, they could tell she had been through a lot. She didn’t look well and she was leaning on one of the agents for support.

“Welcome back, Agent Johnson,” Coulson greeted, solemnly. Daisy glanced up, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s good to see you,” Lincoln said.

She breathed shakily, letting a tear run down her cheek. “Lash died trying to save me,” she stated sadly, unable to look anyone in the face as she said it.

“Did he manage to kill Hive?” Talbot asked. Daisy shook her head.

“Get her to the med bay,” Simmons directed. The agents led her away.

“What if Lash wasn’t here to kill Hive?” Fitz asked.

“He was here to save Daisy,” Lincoln said.

“That wasn’t Lash,” Simmons said. “That was Dr. Garner.”

The group followed after Daisy and the other agents. They watched at Daisy’s steps faltered as she entered the med bay.

“Y/N?” Daisy gasped. “Wh—what happened?”

“You need to sit down,” Simmons directed, guiding her to a separate glass room.

“But… when? I—I didn’t notice….”

“May found her in a closet,” Fitz responded as Daisy sat on the bed and Simmons started working. “She… she, uh…”

“She’s been through a lot,” Simmons said. “She’ll be fine after some heavy rest.” She turned to a lab tech. “Prep for immediate blood transfusion and full cranial scan.”

Outside of the glass room, Coulson, Talbot, Yo-Yo, and Mack were watching.

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Talbot asked. “That she isn’t under Hive’s voodoo spell?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Coulson answered. 

“In the meantime… have a little faith,” Mack added.

~~~

Coulson waited for news about Daisy at Y/N’s side. When the results were back, Simmons called him out into the lab.

“Daisy is completely sway free,” Simmons stated. “Her brain is back to normal. But she is suffering withdrawal symptoms from the effects of the sway. It’ll take some time. She’s resting now, recovering from that and the blood loss, but we do expect a full recovery.”

“Nobody goes in there until I say,” Coulson ordered. “But that’s good news.” He watched Simmons. “I know that look. That means there’s bad news, too. What is it?”

“Dr. Fitz?” She turned to him.

“Well, this is purely hypothetical,” Fitz began, “and there are a lot of unknown variables, but…”

“Based on what Daisy told us about Hive’s new pathogen—“

“We think we know what he plans to do with it.” Fitz pulled up a simulation on the computer. “If he can create some short of shock wave, then Hive could potentially infect a significant percentage of the human race, turning them all into the swayed Primitive Inhumans that Daisy described—“

“If and only if he finds a way to disperse it high enough in the atmosphere.”

“Yeah.”

“He has a way,” Talbot stated quietly. “That thing he stole from the ATCU in Indiana. It was a warhead… a fully operational warhead.”

~~~

Simmons walked into the containment module that was connected to the cell Daisy was being kept in.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” Daisy said quietly.

“I’m here to provide progress updates based on the intel you gave us… nothing more,” Simmons responded.

“And they only send you. Why?”

“If anything I tell you jogs any memories, any pertinent information at all, I'll ask you to divulge.”

“It’s because you’re the only one I didn’t hurt… personally, I mean. That’s why. You and… Y/N. How is she?”

“Have you thought of any new pertinent information?”

Daisy sighed, leaning back into the couch she was sitting on. “As I said, Hive’s followers tell him everything, but he rarely returns the favor. I’m sorry that’s not enough to act on.”

“Well, we are acting on a new lead.” Daisy turned her head to look at Simmons. “We’re located a US missile silo in the Pacific. Seems like a good fit.”

“If that’s where they plan to do it, they’ll be there ahead of you.”

“Yes. The silo’s staff went silent five hours ago.”

“Even if you infiltrate, you can’t shut down the launch… not without government Kill Codes.”

“We are aware."

“Had-delivered by a DOD official. It’s not hackable. You won’t be—“

“We are aware. The only thing you gave us that didn’t pan out was that word. You said he mentioned ‘absolution’. Any idea what he meant?”

Daisy barely shook her head with a shrug. “He thinks he’s the savior…. Just… answer this one question for me, Jemma. Please… how is she?”

Simmons sighed, debating on whether or not to say something. “Y/N… she’s awake, but… she’s not really here. She hasn’t said anything since she woke up. She won’t eat. She just stares off into space and sleeps.”

Daisy stood up and walked over to the windows Simmons was standing at. “No one will tell me what happened.”

“Cause we don’t know the full story… it’s also not our story to tell.”

~~~

Nothing felt right to Y/N. Even just being in her body felt completely awful. And she had no energy, to talk, to eat. She knew that she was being fed through the IV’s connected to her. But, to her, there was nothing left to fight for. Y/N had lost everything… and it was her fault, just as much as it was everyone else’s. At least, that’s what she thought.

She could tell that there was a mission going on, another end of the world scenario. But she didn’t have any more fight left in her. There was nothing left. So Y/N slept and stared off into space, beating herself over the life she knew, the life she lost. She didn’t even know how long it had been since she arrived back at the base and she didn’t care.

The team had captured Hive, but were still tracking down his people. His people were still planning to release a substance over most of the earth to turn people into Inhumans. Every member on the team was busy, but they each made an effort to check in on Y/N every now and then.

“Hey,” Coulson came into the med bay room, “I brought you some things.” He held up a bag, but Y/N didn’t bother looking his way. “Your favorite snacks, a few books I’ve bought but have had no time to read, a tablet for you to whatever you want with.” He set the bag on a table beside her bed before sitting next to her. “Is there anything I can help you with?” No answer.  “Or at least tell me what self deprecating thoughts are running through that brain of yours?” No answer, yet again. “Y/N, this isn’t your fault. Nothing of what happened is your fault. You didn’t—“

“I killed my baby….” Y/N replied, just above a whisper. “How is that not my fault?” She finally turned her head to face him. “My baby’s dead… because of me…”

“That’s not true.” Coulson shook his head. “You were under a lot of stress. More than anyone should—“

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still my fault… I should have tried harder to protect my family…. It’s always my fault…” She turned her head away again.

“Y/N, I need you to listen very carefully. Nothing of what happened to your baby and to the Avengers is all your fault. That’s not out things work… you didn’t force anyone to sign or not sign the Accords. You didn’t force them to fight. That stress was put on you, that’s not your fault.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I wish I could believe you… but, I’m sorry, Phil…. It is my fault.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[thewayshedreamed]

Secrets Don’t Make Friends— Feysand AU

Prompt submission by Nonnie— Reverse fake dating au where everyone thinks you’re dating and you’re keeping it a secret, but you’re not.

Thank you to whoever sent this one in! I had an idea for Nessian, so I may post that one as well if y’all are interested! 

——————————————————————————

It was another beautiful day in Velaris, and Feyre couldn't seem to focus on her newest project assignment for anything. She found herself gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the Sidra's soothing flow and mentally mixing her various paints to capture the unique color.

Unfortunately, her firm's newest client didn't care much for river paintings since they were paying for a full digital marketing overhaul. Truth be told, she didn’t hate her job as a creative director for the largest marketing firm in Velaris. It allowed her a steady income, let her flex her creativity to some capacity, and definitely kept her on her toes. She had started as a design team member with the firm several years ago upon graduating from Prythian U, and after several largely successful projects, she started to gain more responsibilities within the team. Once her team’s creative director, Amarantha, had moved on to another firm, Feyre had been promoted to her position.

She turned back to her computer screen, willing the motivation to hit her. Any moment now.

This was a typical pattern for her. Initiating a new project was always the hardest part, but once she got started, she tumbled down the proverbial rabbit hole. She just had to... start.

“Ughh,” Feyre lamented. “I wish I was halfway through this proposal already. I’m way better at that point in the project.”

”You are pretty worthless right now,” Lucien joked. Feyre offered a vulgar gesture in return, earning a hearty laugh from her friend.

Lucien left the marketing side of the firm about a year ago, itching for a different opportunity that would allow him to express himself more freely. He felt stifled by the business side of things; the numbers, the politics, the marketing director he worked under. Tamlin hadn’t been the absolute worst to him, but his leadership style didn’t align well with Lucien for the long-term. He had ended up as a member of Feyre’s team and seemed to fill a void they weren’t aware they had.

“I can’t be that mad at you, to be honest. You’re not wrong,” she replied. “Maybe I need caffeine to get out of the post-lunch slump.”

”Someone say caffeine?”

Rhysand Vila approached, perching on the corner of Feyre’s desk. He was wearing dark khaki slacks with a black button down, rolled up to the elbows. At some point, he had ditched his tie in favor of an open neckline, likely free of meetings for the rest of the day. His casual appearance didn’t readily identify him as one of the firm’s most successful marketing directors, but his authenticity was one of the things that extended his influence the most.

Rhysand’s marketing team often collaborated with Feyre’s creative one, and they managed to create some of the most well-balanced projects within the firm. They worked so flawlessly together that they were starting to become almost exclusively paired, much to the chagrin of some of the other teams. Not only were their proposals solid, their presentations were engaging and convincing. Their perspectives on the projects, combined with their mutual respect of the other’s contributions, presented a solid, united front that built trust with their clients.

Through long work hours and multiple business trips across Prythian, Rhysand had become one of Feyre’s dear friends. When they’d originally started working together, his cockiness had grated her nerves to the nth degree, but she realized over time that it was mostly in jest. In truth, Rhysand was kind-hearted, cared deeply for the people in his life, and an incredibly supportive partner on client projects.

They’d fallen into a comfortable kind of friendship, and they’d only gotten closer with time. He’d confided in her about the toxic relationship he and Amarantha had foolishly found themselves in, and he’d listened to her never-ending rants about her brief coupling with Tamlin, nothing but understanding all over his face.

“I think a coffee run is a necessity,” Feyre said, playfulness dancing across her features.

“I left my wallet in my desk. I’ll go grab it. Meet you at the elevator?” Rhysand asked as he walked backward toward his office.

“Sounds good!” she replied. She turned to Lucien. “You coming?”

He had an odd look on his face, smirk included. She gave him a questioning look, and he let out a low chuckle. “Nah. But if I give you my card, will you grab something for me?”

”Why wouldn’t you just come? I’m not your coffee bitch, Vanserra.” That earned a full laugh.

”And I would never assume you to be. If I’m going to take a break, I don’t feel like being third wheel, is all.” The confused look returned to her face, and he continued. “Feyre, stop. It’s not my company either of you want on this little coffee date. You and Rhysand can go about your charade with anyone else, but you’re not getting that shit by me. It’s fine— you two are great together. I just can’t figure out why you insist on the secret.”

Feyre’s expression morphed into a stunned one, and it took her a few seconds to decide on a response. She and Rhysand had never crossed any lines beyond platonic, so all of this was news to her.

”Luce, I’m not sure who your source was for that little nugget of info, but don’t trust them with anything incredibly important in the future. They’re way off,” she assured him. “Text me your coffee order.”

She made her way to the elevator, finding Rhysand propped against the wall on his shoulder. He was scrolling through his phone, stray black hair falling across his brow, looking as if he couldn’t be bothered by the work day. Once the elevator made it to their floor, they stepped inside and found themselves sharing with Morrigan Reina. She was head of Human Resources, absolutely stunning, and Rhysand’s cousin. She had to admit, their genetic pool was quite impressive, all things considered. She was his opposite in every way with her brown eyes and blonde hair, but they shared immaculate bone structure and a certain elegance. Objectively speaking.

“Well, hi! This elevator ride just got way more fun. How’s is going, Rhysie? Fey?” Her dark eyes sparkled, dancing over Rhysand’s face. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly, silently communicating with him in that way only family can.

”Oh, come off it, Mor. We’re on a coffee run. Care to join?” Something in his tone seemed oddly like a challenge. She realized she hadn’t yet answered Morrigan but felt like a response of “Doing well” would seem out of context, since Rhys had already transitioned away from greetings. She deciding on standing there awkwardly, pretending not to feel incredibly intimidated by this woman in the elevator.

“So sweet of you, but I’ll have to take a rain check. This is my floor actually. Unfortunately, I have a termination meeting to attend. Have some for me!” She brushed her cheek against his in a mock kiss. “Good seeing you, Feyre!” She disappeared so quickly that Feyre started to doubt if she was ever there in the first place.

“Awfully prickly with your dear cousin this afternoon, Rhysie,” she teased.

”Well, dearest Mor can be quite the busy body and likes to think she knows all of my secrets.” He gave a small eye roll, but the smirk on his face gave his affection away.

“You have my attention. I think it’s only fair that I’m let in on this little secret.”

She swore the tops of his bronze ears turned slightly pink. “I assure you I’m not that interesting, Feyre Darling.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimed, and they were walking into their building’s lobby. The coffee shop was right next door, so they made their way there quickly. Within 10 minutes, they had their coffees in hand and were sharing an elevator with a small crowd on their way back to work. Feyre regretted that she wasn’t able to press Rhys for his secrets anymore but supposed it was for the best.

He took the long way to his office in order to drop her off at her desk. She set Lucien’s coffee down on his desk with just enough force to startle him out of his work, earning a laugh from Rhys. Lucien simply glared at her before mumbling his thanks and taking a long pull of coffee.

“Well, Feyre Darling, this is where I leave you.”

Lucien eyed her over his coffee lid, lowering it slowly as he paid full attention to their exchange.

Feyre chuckled, ignoring Lucien altogether. “Thanks for returning me safely. I fully intend on pulling at least one secret from you on the next trip, though. You’ve been warned.”

His violet eyes bore into hers, amusement all over his face. “Do your worst,” he replied, winking at her as he sipped his coffee and walked away.

——————————————————————————

Coffee seemed to be just the inspiration Feyre needed to hit her creative stride for the afternoon. She finally managed to land on a prospective theme for the new account, and she was busy making some rough sketches on her drawing tablet. A booming voice called out to her from down the hall, and she recognized it immediately as Tamlin. Of course he would recruit her attention once she was finally feeling productive.

“Feyre, could you come down as soon as you’re free? I’d like you to do a consult with Ianthe.”

She forced herself to refrain from rolling her eyes, trying her best to be diplomatic.

“Sure, Tamlin. Be there in a bit.”

He hesitated at his office door, poorly masking his impatience when she didn’t immediately jump out of her chair. Typical.

She was already annoyed at his loud declaration across the office that he was asking her to give feedback on another creative director’s work. She didn’t feel particularly protective over Ianthe. It was just poor form, and it set the tone for resentment with no true reason.

Finally, she stood and made her way to his office. He was in his office chair, Ianthe pointing to various items of interest on a flat screen mounted to the wall. She greeted Feyre politely, but it didn’t seem like she was all to keen on getting her feedback.

“What can I help with?” Feyre offered.

“I wanted to see what you thought about the account we’re working on. Considering that you’ve been monopolized by Vila for months, I thought I could at least get a brief consult,” he explained.

Feyre decided to mentally count how many underhanded comments she’d endure over the course of this meeting.

One.

”Sure. What’s up?”

Ianthe launched into the cliff notes of her project, Tamlin contributing nothing the entire time.

“I’m sure you’re probably swamped with whatever you’re working on Feyre, so I appreciate you taking time to look at what I’ve put together.” Ianthe seemed genuine enough. She wasn’t sure if she trusted her, but she felt bad for her all the same.

Before she could respond, Tamlin inserted himself. “Oh, she’s definitely seems busy. Just not sure how much of it is work-related.” Her head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. She steadied herself and turned her attention back to Ianthe to try and keep this meeting on track.

Two.

”Honestly, Ianthe, I think you have a great proposal overall. My only suggestion is that you consider a different color focus. Your primary color for the logo is red, and that happens to be the main color of their largest competitor’s logo as well,” she stated, ignoring Tamlin entirely.

He started to say something about her input, but she quickly interrupted him.

“How unfortunate that the person responsible for doing the relevant market research into any competitors didn’t think that to be relevant intel to bring to the project,” she finished, eyes gravitating back to Tamlin’s face.

”Good catch,” Ianthe said simply.

“It’s happened to me before, too. Don’t create too much additional work for yourself. Maybe see about pulling one of your coordinating colors forward instead, and see how that plays out. No need to reinvent the wheel.”

”I’m not sure how you’ve managed to convince Vila to do all that extra legwork on your behalf, but it sounds like you’re awfully convincing,” Tamlin seethed. He couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

Three.

It was quiet for several uncomfortable seconds. As if on cue, her savior himself appeared in Tamlin’s doorway, a friendly smile on his face just for her. He knocked with his knuckle as he glanced around the room.

“Sorry for interrupting. Feyre, could you stop by my office before you head out today? Nothing big. Our last account sent an email asking for some minor changes, and I wanted to get your input before I tell them anything,” he said.

“Of course, Rhys. I’ll be there in a second,” she replied. He gave her one of his dazzling smiles, that rogue strand of hair kissing his brow yet again. When he walked away, she immediately felt compelled to follow him, as if he took the light straight out of the room when he left.

“You may go, Ianthe,” Tamlin stated dryly. She quickly excused herself, repeating her thanks to Feyre on the way out.

“You realize you two are partners— she doesn’t work for you.”

“Our dynamic is hardly your business, Feyre.” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but she hated the way he spoke to people who worked with him. It had always bothered her.

“Says the guy who all but insinuated that I’m putting out to get Rhys to be a good partner on projects. You’re unbelievable.”

“All of the speculation that circulates around this office regarding you and Rhysand, and you’re caught on what I’ve said? Feyre, sweetie. I thought we were past this.”

”It seems as though the lot of you aren’t busy enough if you have all this time to discuss whether Rhys and I have some secret affair happening under your noses. Maybe if you put half that effort into your job duties, you’d be an almost decent partner to Ianthe,” she snapped.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with me and Ianthe. We’ll work together in whatever way works for us. Plus, you basically belong to Rhys now, so you won’t have to worry over having to work with the likes of me.” The way he mockingly said Rhys’ name made her want to punch him in the throat.

She turned on her heel to leave, so angry that she didn’t trust herself to respond professionally. Once she got to the doorway, she found the words rolling off her tongue without a conscious thought.

“I ‘belong’ to no one. Your problem is that you see people as assets rather than building relationships. You should consider incorporating a little humanity into your leadership. You may find yourself a little less miserable to work for or be around. From now on, Ianthe can address me directly if she needs me. You, sir, can fuck off.”

——————————————————————————

Feyre made her way directly to Rhysand’s office, still fuming. She probably needed a quick break on the roof to clear her head, but it was already 4:30. She didn’t want to make Rhys stay late so that she could pout properly. Although, he’d probably do that for her if she asked.

She approached his door, knocking lightly when she saw he was on the phone. He waved her in as he finished his call. He let out a polite chuckle at whomever was on the line, and she wondered how even his contrived laughter sounded almost musical.

“Absolutely. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow. Bye.” He placed the receiver of his office phone into the cradle and faced her fully.

“Hey there, Feyre Darling. Thanks for saving some time for me today. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I wasn’t sure when if I’d be able to catch you later.” He leaned back in his chair, propped his elbow on the arm rest, and cupped his large hand to run it over his face. So he was tired, too.

Feyre let out a low chuckle. “You’re my hero, basically. Your timing was absolutely perfect. Never hesitate to interrupt if Tamlin is the person I’m talking to.”

His bright, violet eyes seemed to linger on her face. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you laugh again,” he mused. “It’s become one of my favorite sounds, I think.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face, and she found one mirrored on his own. She cleared her throat, unsure how to tame the butterflies she was experiencing at his words.

“Shall we?” She motioned to his computer, and he nodded. She pulled her chair to his desk so that she could see, but he forced her to switch with him, insisting she take control of moving through the project.

She wasn’t sure if she was reading way too much into the weird comments she had heard today about her and Rhys, but she was acutely aware of his thigh so close to hers. It was far enough that they weren’t flush, but she could feel the heat radiating off of him in the most distracting way.

He already had the project pulled up on the screen and asked her to move through the document to the place of the proposed changes. He reached across her slightly to point at something, and she was instantly immersed in his scent. She found it oddly comforting, if she was honest with herself.

“So what do you think? Is it a simple fix? Or would this be something beyond the originally contracted rate? If it’s going to take you some time, I think it’s appropriate that we negotiate an additional fee, especially considering we’ve just initiated another large account.”

”Mmm. It’s been a while. Mind if I play with it for a minute?” she asked.

”Yeah, for sure. Take your time,” he said, leaning back in his chair as she worked.

Several minutes passed in excruciating silence, causing Feyre to break out in nervous laughter.

“You can talk to me, you know. It’s eerily quiet in here,” she joked.

He huffed a laugh. ”Hmm, okay. Anything particularly interesting around the office today?”

She thought immediately of her conversations with Lucien and Tamlin, and she couldn’t help but include their interaction with Mor in the elevator on the list. It really was such a weird day.

She worked for a couple of seconds before she replied. “It was quite the day, to say the least. I learned a lot about myself via the grapevine.”

”You mean to tell me there’s gossip in this office?”

”This very one,” she replied through a laugh.

“This is the part where you tell me what’s been said about you, Darling.”

She big her bottom lip, nervous of how he would react. “Well, it’s not exclusive to me. It has to do with you, too.” Her eyes never left the computer screen as she spoke.

“I like how that looks,” he said in regard to her edits, jumping straight back into their original conversation. “Now you have to tell me, especially if I’m involved.”

He offered a small poke to her ribs, laughing at her jerking away from him and the glare it earned. “Spill, Archeron.”

Before she could chicken out, she described her interaction with Lucien prior to their coffee run. He went entirely still as she spoke, eyes trained on the screen. When she finished, he said, “I see. I bet Lucien thinks he’s quite clever, then... Oh wait, I like that better.” He pointed to a small change she made.

He seemed so indifferent, and despite her attempts to the contrary, it bothered her that he was acting so cavalier. She had to check herself, remembering how ridiculous she had found the comments only a handful of hours ago. It was certainly unfair to have expectations of him being that she had barely finished processing this afternoon’s events.

“Yeah, I guess he’s pretty proud of himself. I don’t know how much he believed me when I told him he was off-base, but time will tell, I guess.” She immediately launched into her interaction with Tamlin, outlining the full interaction for him.

His jaw was tense throughout the story, and she could see his shoulders tighten when she would share a particularly tasteless thing Tamlin said. They tended to stay out of each others’ ways, so sometimes it was easy to forget how much animosity existed between the two of them. She finished the entire story, and decided to wrap up everything in a brief summary.

”So yeah, according to Lucien and Tamlin, you and I are hiding a super secret little office affair. But apparently we’re really bad at it, because everyone knows.” She let out a long breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding. His response was swift.

“Well, that’s fucking ridiculous.” He stated, so matter of fact. “Go back to that one really quick— if you don’t mind.” His eyes never left the screen. All business, all of a sudden.

Okay. Now, his indifference stung. She thought she knew Rhysand well enough that he would cushion the blow better than this if he were totally shooting her down. She didn’t like how detached he was, and come to think of it, it’s not like she had offered herself to him anyway. For all he knew, she could find the idea of them dating totally repulsive.

“You could do a lot worse for yourself, you know,” she said, anger bubbling to the service. She saw his head snap toward her, but she refused to look at him.

”What?”

”I know you could walk out of this office and take your pick, but you could do worse for yourself than me. It can’t be that ‘fucking ridiculous’.” She clenched her jaw to force herself to stop talking and breathe.

He sat there looking at her, his attention to the project entirely derailed.

“Feyre...” he started.

”It’s late. I’ll finish looking at this tomorrow. Could you save the changes and upload to the cloud? I think I can make quick work of it.”

”Would you look at me, please?”

She let go of the computer mouse and covered her face with both hands. She rubbed her face roughly as she spoke.

“I’m just tired, Rhysand. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Just forget I said anything. Really, I’m okay.” She didn’t want to see the pity in his face or listen to any explanations. She just needed to get out of there.

She felt one of his hands grip softly around the wrist closest to him as he turned the chair to get her to face him. She kept her face covered, leaning forward, and he had the nerve to laugh softly at her.

“You are such a stubborn, difficult woman sometimes, Feyre Darling.” He gripped her other wrist with his free hand and pulled her hands away from her face. She was too tired to fight him on it, so she let him. She fixed her gaze on his thighs, not entirely prepared for what his expression would show.

“Please look at me,” he whispered. She melted at the tone of his voice, imploring her to make eye contact, and raised her eyes to meet his.

He rubbed slow circles on the sensitive underside of her wrists as he spoke. “In no way, is the idea of me being with you ridiculous. What is so ridiculous to me, Darling, is the idea that I could ever be with you and delude myself into thinking I could keep it a secret,” he murmured, the sincerity in his expression overwhelming her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, readying himself to finish. “Cauldron, Feyre. If you ever let me love you... I wouldn’t have it in me to contain it.”

She was frozen in her chair, in total disbelief. Once she finally regained control of herself, she reached her hand up to smooth his hair back into place. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

“That piece of hair has been driving me insane all day long,” she whispered. She was closer now, so much closer to him than she had ever been. She dropped her hand back to her lap to find his again.

His eyes popped open, traveling across her face and landing on her full lips. She watched his tongue dart out of his mouth slightly to wet his own before she regained eye contact. She leaned forward a little more, his hand coming up to brush her hair behind her ear. He cupped her face, running his thumb across her cheek.

“Feyre?” It was barely a whisper, but it was everything.

She subtly nodded her head, and his lips were on hers. He was slow, near reverent as he kissed her, and she leaned in to him, craving more contact. He slid his hand a little farther back so that his fingers could find their home in her hair, just behind her ear. She braced her hand on his forearm, and he pulled her face into his, only slightly, to deepen the kiss.

She let out a quiet whimper as Rhys angled himself to better capture her mouth, and just like that, she was gone. She no longer registered that they were in Rhys’ office or that his door was still open from when she arrived. As far as she was concerned, the world began and ended with them.

They both missed the quick footsteps as Lucien passed by on his way back to his desk from a meeting. They were entirely unaware of his halt as he realized what he’d witnessed and his prompt back peddling. It was when they heard his quiet rasp that they startled, breaking apart only millimeters.

”I fucking knew it!” he whisper-screamed, obviously pleased with himself.

True to Rhysand’s nature, he seemed totally unfazed by Lucien’s discovering them. He brushed his nose over Feyre’s, a grin spreading across his beautiful face.

”Fuck off, Lucien,” he crooned playfully.

His mouth was on hers yet again, neither of them noticing the soft click of the door as Lucien backed out of the office.

——————————————————————————

Just a bit of Feysand fluff for y’all! Feel free to keep the prompts coming, and let me know if you have a particular pairing or mood in mind ☺️

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, you can comment, shoot me an ask, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08​ // @maastrash​

[lemonjoonah]

Artificially Inclined - Valentine Drabble

Surprise! A little last minute valentine's day gift for you guys. Just a short 0.7K drabble for my Artificially Inclined series. No real warnings other than, misinterpretation of feelings, and adorable android fluff. Please enjoy (and I’m terribly sorry for any errors, this hasn’t been beta read)!

...

10:31 am February 14th, 2050

POV (Y/N)

Jungkook carefully opens the envelope with your cheesy handmade card inside. To your dismay he looks perplexed and unsure of how to proceed after reading it.

...It’s a valentine Jungkook... 

“What purpose does it serve?”

...It lets the people in your life know how important they are to you...

“Ah I see.” Jungkook holds a blank express for a moment, one that signals that he’s downloading and processing information. 

He comes to with a smile, not saying a word he steps in closer to you.  Latching an arm around your waist, while the other moves to cradle your head. You’re suddenly caught between desire and panic, wanting to see where this will go but dreading the ethical repercussions. This was not what you were looking for when you gave him the card. 

His fingers slide in among the roots of your hair, as he lowers his face to yours. Your hand covers his mouth just before your lips meet. You back away pressing off his chest as he tilts his head in confusion.

You take a deep shaking breath before typing out your request for an explanation. ...What the hell was that?...

“What should have been a kiss.” He leans in to try again, but you deny him for a second time. “Is that not how people reply to such a gift? I cross referenced several sources and it seemed like the appropriate response.”

...There are romantic valentines, and platonic valentines Jungkook. That action is only appropriate if you are in an intimate relationship with said person. I gave one to Namjoon too, would you think it wise for him to respond in the same manner which you just did?...

“Are you stating we have a similar relationship to that of you and Hyung? How does one reach the level of an intimate relationship? Am I more important to you if I succeed in passing that threshold?”

The barrage of inquiries is more than you can handle, a simple valentine opening a Pandora's box of questions. ...Just forget it Jungkook. It was a silly thing to give you...

A message pops up on your tablet.

Do you wish to delete the memory of JK0901 for the allotted time: 02/14/2050 10:31 am - 02/14/2050 10:34 am? 

Click YES or NO.

You tap no instantly, cringing at the thought of removing his memory for a mistake you should have foreseen. ...That was a figure of speech. Please don’t worry about it. It was only meant to show how much I appreciate you... 

...

Jungkook keeps his distance for the rest of the day. It’s odd to see him scuttling around the manor, looking rather busy despite having no requests from you to carry out. Usually he just stays by your side if he has nothing better to do. You consider questioning him about such actions but decide against it. If he’s found something important for him to work on that’s progress to be celebrated.

He returns to your side later that night just as you step away from the dinner table. You greet him with a smile but his expression is rather glum.

“I’m sorry Noona.”

...What for?...

“I researched valentines gifts so I could repay you for the one you gave me, but I could not produce a suitable present that fits within the theme of the holiday. The cook would not let me in the kitchen, and there are no flowers in the garden this time of year. I do have something for you, though. I’ve been working on this for a few weeks.”

He hands you what looks like a smart watch.

“It’s a more effective and discrete method of communication for us. So I can register your status and you can verify mine. I’m still in the process of adding more features, and I know you have your tablet but this denotes a greater level of intimacy to me.” 

Jungkook helps you to put it on your wrist and turns it on. The words ...Hello Noona... are the first to grace the small screen, prompting you to smile. 

“Do you like it?”  

You nod adamantly. Not knowing how to put your gratitude into writing, you pull him into a hug, grazing his cheek with a small kiss.

His arms wrap around you in turn. Lowering his head, he places the corner of his mouth to rest at your temple, “Happy Valentines Day Noona.” 

[artnerd1123]

Among Us: CR3WM8TS

Updates Required (part 3)

——————————————

With the ship launched and crew settled, it’s time to get to work. Which, for Bunbun, means updating. How smoothly that goes depends on the crewmates in charge… Bunbun’s hoping she’s in good company.

Featuring appearances by Nanner and Silk!

Among Us archive/askblog Fic chapters post

——————————————

Ok so originally I wanted to keep all this together, but decided it’d be better to chop it into pieces. That way I can keep my momentum, keep posting for y’all, and still intro y’all to the crew as things get moving!

finally got this last part done!!! it’s all finished now! now we can get on to more fun stuff >:3

                                                  ===+===+===

Mission Log 5

Ship Model: SKELD D34-H120 Designation: SUPPLY TRANSPORT, EXPLORATION AND DOCUMENTATION OF SECTOR G PLANETS Crewmate Count: 9 Crewmate Colors: DARK GREEN, WHITE, PURPLE, DARK BLUE, YELLOW, RED, LIME, BLACK, PINK

Location: SECTOR F Ship Status: IN TRANSIT Course: PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G Systems:

Navigation: COURSE INLAID / STABLE / UPDATES NEEDED

Engines: UPPER - ONLINE, TANK 0.94 / LOWER - ONLINE, TANK 0.92 / OUTPUT ALIGNED

Reactor: ONLINE / FUNCTIONING OPTIMAL

O2: STABLE

Electrical: CALIBRATOR OFFLINE

Communications: ONLINE / UPDATES NEEDED

Shields: ONLINE / FUNCTIONING OPTIMAL

Weapons: TEMPORARILY OFFLINE  / FUNCTIONING N/A

Security: CAMERAS ONLINE / ALL FUNCTIONAL

Administration: MAP OFFLINE - UPDATES NEEDED / CONNECTION SECURE / SHIP FILES UP TO DATE / ALL CREW ACCOUNTED FOR

Medbay: EQUIPMENT ONLINE / FUNCTIONAL / CREW FILES UP TO DATE

Supplies: [ONE] CRATES SHORT  

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

Notes: Admin map offline, as updates are needed. PINK identified systems in need of updates. PINK has commenced updates under DARK BLUE supervision. Updates still in progress. RED discharged from medbay after receiving treatment for minor injuries. RED in process of submitting incident report. BLACK opened one supply crate to restock food materials. PURPLE sent four previous mission logs to HQ for archiving. PURPLE also submitted them to [SKELD D34-H120] Mission Log Archive. Other crew performing normal activities.

                                                 ===+===+===

With each room visited, the list of tasks was shifting from white to green. All but three of them were lit up with the color of a job well done. Bunbun looked over the list with a growing sense of satisfaction. Just three more now, she thought, I can handle that in no time. Not to mention the updates had given her a perfect opportunity to meet most of her crewmates. Hopefully whoever she had left to encounter would be in a good mood. Or at least a better one than a certain blue-suited crewmate. Speaking of which, River had once again chosen their destination. He’d hooked a sharp right as they left Medbay, leaving Bunbun- as per last time- to scramble after him. His pace picked right back up after he was out of Medbay’s sight. He only spared Bunbun a single glance over his shoulder. “C’mon, keep up,” he grumbled, “there’s not much left to do, and I’m hungry. I wanna have time for my lunch break before I have to be back at cams.” With a sinking feeling, Bunbun realized he might have just been on his “best behavior” for the doctor. That wasn’t uncommon among crewmates. After all, you do want the local medic to treat you well. Well... That, and patients who behave get discharged sooner. River’s attitude change didn’t bode well for their time outside of medbay. Luckily, Administration wasn’t too far from there. They just had to pass through the cafeteria. Maybe there’d be a vending machine or something. A good stop for a snack. As long as it gets River off my back, I don’t care what it is, Bunbun thought ruefully. 

The cafeteria was about as standard as it gets. The tile floor was dull from years worth of crewmates’ passage. The slightly dented wire panel on the wall closest to them was closed. The download station and food processor on the far wall seemed to be in working order. From what Bunbun could see of the chute, it was nice and clear. Five circular tables were placed around the room, two at each end and one in the middle. The emergency button looked rather haphazardly installed in the center table. It was as if someone had carved a hole in its surface and shoved in the proper equipment- nothing like the clean circles and precise welding of newer ships. It was just another sign of the SKELD’s age. Bunbun was at least comforted by the layer of dust atop it. Unbothered dust on the button- above everything- was a testament to the ship’s safety. Or, at the very least, a high level of trust in its crew. River didn’t give anything a single glance. He walked like a man on a mission, and Bunbun tailed after him diligently. To his credit, he wasn’t headed towards the food processor. He was making a beeline for the door towards storage. Or, rather, toward Admin. She figured that’s where they were headed. It was next on her list.  Before they reached the door, though, River stopped in his tracks. He went still so fast Bunbun nearly crashed into him.  “Wh- hey- what was that about?” She squawked.  “Can it,” River hissed, taking a step back. “We’ll move in just a minute. Gotta wait for traffic.”  “Traffic…?” Bunbun’s brows furrowed. What traffic…? She tried to track River’s gaze. It wasn’t hard, seeing as it was riveted on the doorway. 

She spotted a crewmate in black standing there. The fact that they were wearing their helmet outside of docking time was a little odd, but it wasn’t entirely unheard of. Though the rubbery banana peel stuck to the top of it was sort of funny looking. From the way it didn’t slide off their head after any movement, she’d guess it was an accessory. Black’s head was bent over their tablet, which they held in their right hand. Their left rested on the handle of a gravity platform cart. A large crate was nestled in its center. From the label, Bunbun could tell it was food. All in all, they seemed like a standard human crewmate on supply duty. At least, at first glance. The more Bunbun looked them over, the more their shape seemed more vaguely human than clean cut. Their limbs were a little too bendy, and their suit didn’t seem form fit to any specific body shape. It was like a vague approximation of a humanoid form. The biggest tell, though, were their hands. Bunbun blinked a couple times to make sure she was seeing them right. Their gloves only had four fingers instead of five. Suddenly, keeping the helmet on made more sense. For all she knew, the alien under there might breathe a different kind of air. Or no air at all. She’d had plenty of aquatic- and a handful of lava dwelling- classmates at the academy. Though… that style of suit was more fitted to the gaseous types of aliens. Ah, well. The mystery would have to wait for later.

Black seemed to mumble to themself for a minute before cramming their tablet under their arm. They’d just turned to pull the cart into the caf when the room’s other occupants caught their eye. Or, at least, the occupant in front did. They seemed to perk up immediately, one hand flying to their visor. “Oh! Howdy!!!” they called happily. “I didn’t see ya there!!! Ya need through?” “That would be ideal,” River replied tersely. “Gimme jes oooone sec-”Black bubbled. With that, they yanked the cart all the way into the room. It floated in easily, and came to rest next to the doorway under their guidance. “There she is! All clear for ya, Riv!” River started right back towards the door the second they were out of the way. Not even gonna say thanks? Bunbun thought, puzzled. Well. If he wasn’t gonna do it, she would. “Er- thank you, we appreciate it,” Bunbun called as she followed him. Black gave a quiet gasp. “Oh!!! I didn’ realize we had company!” They giggled, looking to River. The man stopped in place again, expression souring. “Who’s yer new pal?” “Does it matter?” River huffed, crossing his arms. “We’ve got places to be.” “It does if they’re new to the ship!!!” They chirped. Trotting right over, they stuck out their hand to Bunbun. “Hi there!!! I’m Nanner! What’s yer name, hun?” She blinked at their forwardness, but returned their handshake timidly. Their nickname made her smile a bit. Maybe their hat wasn’t entirely out of place. “I’m, uh, Bunbun,” she replied shyly. “It’s nice to meet you, Nanner.” “Bunbun!!! Oh, now that’s a cute nickname!” Nanner hummed. “Yer the new transfer, right?” “I- er- thank you,” she stammered, face flushing a bit. “And, um, yeah. I dunno how long I’m on board for, but hopefully I can help out.” “Oh, I already know ya will. Ya look like a real peach!” Nanner smiled. Or, she thought they did. It was hard to tell. The visor was so dark she couldn’t make anything out. In any case, the words just made her blush more. Kind ones always did that. “I’ll do my best to make sure yer stay is nice ‘n homely!” “W-well, you’re already doing a good job,” Bunbun smiled softly. “Good, ok, you two are acquainted. Can we go?” River broke in, scowling. “Ah ah ah, Riv,” Nanner scolded, wagging a finger at him. “Y’all can’t go till I know what the lil lady’s favorite food is! Y’all of all people gotta know that by now.” River threw his hands up in defeat. Bunbun’s look of confusion resurfaced. “Favorite food?” She echoed, puzzled. “Well, yeah! I’m the ship’s cook,” Nanner replied nonchalantly. “I gotta know what y’all like so I can have it on hand. Ya never know when you’ll need some good ol’ comfort food.” “Oh… oh! That’s true,” Bunbun nodded. Ship’s cook. Yeah, the food crate should’ve been a giveaway. “I’m, um, afraid mine’s a little on the tame side…” “Not a problem! Tame is good for some,” Nanner soothed. “Ok, er, thanks. It’s just a peanut butter jelly sandwich.” “Any particular variety? There’s a lotta those across the galaxy!” “The kind with Paramour’s grape jelly? I’m not picky about my peanut butter.” “Hmm… Paramour grape jelly and a wild card on the peanut butter…” Nanner nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll have one for yer lunch break, hun.” Bunbun lit up, smiling excitedly. “Oh!!! Thank you so much!!!” She beamed, “I really appreciate it-” “Ok, order up and all that,” River huffed, interrupting again. “Are we done?” “Sheesh, fine,” Nanner snorted. “Seems like someone needs a nap,” they mumbled, giving Bunbun a playful nudge. She tried her best not to laugh, hiding a smile with her hand. “I heard that,” River growled. “Good. Maybe you can take one later!” Nanner beamed, unphased. Rolling his eyes, River resumed his quick march. He was clearly done entertaining the both of them. Bunbun waved as she trotted after him. “Thanks again, Nanner! See you around!” “No problem, Bunny!” 

As they reached the hall, Bunbun decided to risk a question. “So… uh… Riv?” She asked warily. “Don’t call me that,” River groaned. “Nanner loves to give everyone nicknames. And talk. A lot.” “And I’m guessing you’re… not much for conversation?” She ventured. “Hit the nail on the head.” He fixed her with a withering look. “So can you take a hint?” “I-I got it, I got it,” Bunbun replied meekly. Oh yeah. That’s a grump. 

Admin was barely a stone’s throw from the cafeteria. First turn on the left from the door, and it was another well loved room. The carpet was tamped down tightly, the dull maroon only showing through a recent clean. The map was dark- offline for updates- and the card reader looked about as beat up as she’d expected. Three ancient computers sat along the wall. They were old models with screens made of green glass instead of holographic projections. The red chairs before them were an old old leather material, and had been patched up several times. One of the chairs was occupied. The crewmate didn’t seem to notice the two others hovering in the doorway. “... Knock knock,” River said begrudgingly. “You’ve got visitors.” At the sound of his voice, the crewmate glanced up from the screen, giving Bunbun a pretty good look. Xyr suit was purple, and about as worn as Captain Groud’s. Xyr round face was framed with dark, loose coils and dreads, cut off just below xyr chin. A smattering of starry white flecks was sprinkled over xyr hair. Xyr earthy skin had distinctive space travel stripes, albeit a little paler than one would expect. Dark, shining eyeshadow hooded charcoal eyes. Small golden rod earrings and a battered bandage completed xyr look, giving xem the mug of a well weathered space traveller. Xyr look of tired resignment warmed into a smile as xe took notice of Bunbun. 

“Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you’d make your way here,” Xe chuckled, leaning back in xyr chair. “Eheheh… yeah… sorry about the wait,” Bunbun replied softly. Xe held up Xyr hands in a placating gesture. “No no, I get it. This bucket ‘a bolts has a lotta systems in dire need of updates,” Xe replied, “and some of em are better to hit first than others.” Standing up from xyr chair, xe set a hand on xyr hip. “You two gonna come in?” “O-oh! Right- yeah-” Bunbun stammered, striding quickly through the doorway. River let her go first, sulking after her like a grumpy shadow. The other crewmate joined them by the map. “Well, now that we’re all together-” xe held out a hand for Bun- “I might as well introduce myself. People ‘round the ship call me Silk. I’m the resident nav and comms expert.” Bunbun took xyr hand and gave it a gentle shake. “I’m, um, Bunbun,” she replied, shifting in place. “I’m the new transfer- uh- I do, um, tech, electric, and janitorial tasks. I-it’s nice to meet you, Silk.” “Likewise,” xe nodded. “I’m guessing we might not see too much of each other, but you’re always welcome to pop by my areas to say hello.” Xyr eyes trailed away from Bunbun’s face toward someone behind her. From the expectant raised brow, she got the distinct feeling that xe wasn’t exactly thrilled to see them. She saw River kicking at the carpet when she glanced back. “Not even gonna greet me?” Silk asked, brow still raised. “... Hey silk,” River mumbled. His hunched shoulders and skittering glance made him look like a kid in trouble. “... can we get this over with?” “C’mon, being out of isolation can’t be that bad,” Silk joked. At Bunbun’s confused expression, xe waved a hand. I’ll tell you later, xyr face said. She just nodded hesitantly. “Listen, I just wanna go back to cams, is that so much to ask?” River huffed. “With that tone, maybe,” Silk pointed out. He crossed his arms, grumbling quietly, and settled himself along the wall. Xe gave him one last long look before turning back to Bunbun. “So, I reckon my map’s in need of a couple updates?” “Er- yeah, just a couple,” Bunbun said. Glancing it over, she was pleased to see an absence of dust on its glassy green surface. The thing was old, yes, but it looked well cared for. “Do you have any ideas as to what needs fixed? I don’t, um, I don’t handle admin updates too often.” “Of course. I’ll just let ya know what the other rooms need while I’m at it,” Silk replied, flicking a couple switches. The map slowly blinked to life, white lines snaking across a pale grid. The pale outlines flickered and flashed like a star fried sensor. The poor thing was barely even visible. Bunbun winced in sympathy. “Oooh… yeah, someone needs to update the firewall,” she mumbled. “That’s what I thought,” Silk sighed, giving the console a pat. “It’s been doin that for at least a week. The systems down at Comm and Nav are on the fritz too. It’s hard to get records transferred, retain messages, and get the course to stay stable without a babysitter.” “You’ve certainly got your hands full here!” Bunbun remarked. “Yeah, but there’s not too much to worry about,” xe waved a hand. “I’m the best they’ve got here, after all.” “I bet!” She smiled shyly. Looking to the map, she tilted her head. There didn’t seem to be any pattern to its glitching. At least, nothing noticeable from a quick observation. Holding up her tablet, she got herself settled before it. The good and bad thing about old systems were the incredibly obvious tablet ports. For all she knew, someone could’ve uploaded a bug ages ago. Ah well. At least I know how to use a virtual flyswatter. “Well, I-I’ve been told I’m pretty good with tech… maybe I’m not the best out there, but I’ll do what I can to get this all sorted.” “That’s much appreciated,” Silk sighed, giving her a pat on the back. “You take all the time you need.” “Thanks,” Bunbun hummed. Straightening up, her eyes were already skimming the torrent of code. “Ok… one fixed map, cooooming up…” 

                                                ===+===+===

The glitchy virus got itself caught in Bun’s web soon enough. She could isolate and neutralize code as easy as she breathed. Of course, dancing around the admin files was pretty fun. She had to have Silk help guide her hand when digging it out from xyr carefully organized system. But it worked out easily enough. River didn’t pay the two any mind. He only moved when they did, following like the world’s grumpiest duckling. That seemed to suit Silk just fine. It worked well for Bunbun, too. They were free to swap stories like old friends. It was almost a little surprising. Walking in the halls was full of homely conversation. Fixing comm accompanied tales of their academy days. Swinging around to Nav let Silk introduce Bunbun to a couple friendly looking robots. She was impressed to learn Silk made them xemself. When xe sent the robots to distract River, xe took the opportunity to inform her why the man was so touchy. Stuck in a dead end job, he didn’t tend to get out of security much. Not of his free will, anyway. No matter how much mandatory bonding and karaoke nights Groud required. The mental image of River singing karaoke made Bunbun laugh enough that Silk had to rechart the course- the pink crewmate’s flapping hands accidentally slapped a couple buttons. River was not nearly as amused.

                                               ===+===+===

When all was said and done, Bunbun set off with yet another jaunty wave and happy call. River was all but sprinting to their last stop. She didn’t bother to stick with him this time. The only task left was at a place she knew quite well. 

Electrical. 

In the absence of River’s quick thumping of footsteps, the SKELD halls were eerily quiet. The quiet hum of the shields made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She eyed the nearby vent nervously as she wandered through the room. The vents are clear, she reassured herself. A glance at her tablet confirmed it. They’re clear. Passing by comm, the quiet radio static urged her to pick up her pace. Silk might have insisted it was quite safe, but she just… didn’t trust it. It was too quiet. Too far from the cams. Too isolated. The quiet creaking of full supply crates didn’t comfort her in storage, either. She just tried to keep her breathing even as she finished her trip to Electrical. River stood outside the door, eyeing the entrance dubiously. Bunbun slowed to a stop beside him. “Is… something wrong?” she asked nervously. “Huh-? Uh, no, nothing’s wrong,” River said hastily. “It’s just a bit dark in there, that’s all.” “... uh huh…” Bunbun hummed slowly. A peek through the doorway did confirm that the lights were dim. No dimmer than other ships, though. Just… dim enough to be slightly unnerving. Why in the world they were darkest in electrical of all places, Bunbun had no clue. It was a mystery she’d been meaning to take up with the SKELD designers for quite awhile. The upkick of dust and battered panels made it pretty clear the ship hadn’t had a proper electrician in awhile. Not that it mattered now. She had to go in there. Taking a slow breath, she strode towards the back of the room. She was nearly to the line of dusty old computers when she realized River wasn’t following. He was still standing by the door. Just watching. Her grip on her tablet shook gently. How many ways can I spell “suspicious...?”   “Are you… coming...?” She asked meekly. “... nah,” River mumbled, shifting in place. “I’m good.” “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?” she twittered. “What if I end up needing help?” “I’m not an electrician. I’m a security guard. I can watch from here,” he replied flatly. “You’re not a fresh cadet. Figure it out.” “R-right, right,” Bunbun replied. … right… it’s just a trip to electrical. Nothing I haven’t done before. She took a deep breath, adjusting her bandanna. The feel of fabric under her fingers was comforting. I can do this. Squaring her shoulders, she marched right to the back of the room. The light from the hall didn’t reach the quietly humming machinery. The flickering bulbs above didn’t give her much confidence. But she only had one task. Swinging open the door to the calibrator, she was more than a little shocked. For starters, two of the rotating knobs seemed frozen in place. The top knob was the only one rotating lazily. A brief flash of yellow on the sensor strips was her only signal that anything was working at all. What in the milky way’s arms is going on here? She thought, baffled. Her brows furrowed as she shuffled through her old tech knowledge. In every modern ship she’d seen, all three of the knobs would spin in sync. Calibrating was as easy as just waiting for the sensor strips to flash and slapping a button. With old ships, tasks were often a little needlessly complicated. So… following this line of thinking…  Hesitantly, Bunbun raised a hand to the top knob. She watched it spin lazily, the yellow sensor light flashing and dimming as it aligned. One rotation… two… three… on the fourth, she finally tapped the button. A dull click left it frozen in an aligned position. With an unoiled squeak, the knob below it started spinning. The same pattern of flashing and dimming resumed, just a little faster. Bunbun let out a relieved sigh. Ok, yeah. She got it now. She just had to align them one by one. That, she could do.

                                              ===+===+===

After a few tries and some error, Bunbun smiled at the “plink!” of a task finished from her tablet. All three sensor strips glowed a triumphant yellow as she shut the panel. “We’re all done here!” she called, heading back towards the doorway. “I think you’re-” A sudden shuffling and the slap of boots on metal floor cut off the rest of her announcement. By the time she got to the door, she only managed to snatch a blur of blue slipping into storage. “... good to go…” she mumbled to herself. She stared at the empty hall silently for a minute. He really doesn’t wait on anything, does he? She thought bleakly. But hey. At least he’d moved away from the door instead of through it. She might’ve had more problems on her hands than walking alone to lunch. 

Tucking her tablet under her arm, she started off towards the caf. The old halls were both familiar and strange. All SKELD ships looked the same, and yet… each was different. At least, in some respects. She wondered if she’d spend the same brief time on this one as she had on every other SKELD. Her mind wandered quietly as she passed through storage. Though, the closer she got to the caf, the more she heard voices. The friendly sort of voices. Hesitating in the doorway let her see who they belonged to. Spread among the tables were all her crewmates. Lemon and Junior were chatting happily with Nanner at the table closest on the left. Laser and Rose were holding hands at the closest right table as they munched on their food. Silk and Groud were watching contentedly from the middle table, with River occupying a table on his own in the back. They were certainly a lively looking bunch. But the atmosphere in the room was warm. Warm and friendly. Bunbun felt a smile rise to her cheeks as she stepped into the room. Several of her crewmates greeted her, Nanner and Lemon excitedly waving her over to their table. One or two days in, and her fellows were already treating her like family. Her grin widened as she plopped down, happy to dig in to a fresh PBJ and a slew of conversation. 

Yeah. She could get used to this SKELD. She really hoped she’d stay for awhile.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 23: Roland Freaks Out for 25 Straight Minutes

Oh man, took a break from the blog for a bit there because I gave myself a project to do that is 160ish color panels to draw by June 30th and um...it takes a while to do that, it turns out. Every time I’m like “wow I actually have enough time to make a buffer for the blog” I get so distracted.

But anyways, I started having some issues with my wacom tablet, my mouse is a nightmare, and so...I’m just gonna look the other way and write a recap and unplug all of the wacom stuff and just stay the hell away from whatever happened to that...tablet.

maybe It’ll be fine tomorrow?

*sweats nervously*

Thank God I didn’t buy a cintique, that’s all I’ll say. 

Anyway, lets go back to Yugioh. Where were we?

That’s right. Mokuba is checking in with my favorite Kaiba, Roland, who is currently just trying to keep the company running while the official Kaibas are flying to California.

And I’ll be honest, as I was typing this I thought “and why are they going to California again?” and it took me like...10 minutes to remember that Seto dropped absolutely everything and jumped on this massive plane in order to beat Rafael at cards to win the title “King of Games” which...Yugi had already lost to Rebecca about 2 years ago prior, but don’t tell that to Seto. Or Rebecca.

Also don’t tell Seto that the “King of Games” title originally comes from being possessed by a very emo ghost that has a tendency to set people on fire with Russian whiskey and has nothing to do with whatever shenanigans went down with Pegasus.

Honestly, I like to think that in the modern version of this show, Pegasus threw the “King of Games” line out there as like a corny joke, and when the teenagers started latching onto it like it was real, he was like “Oh what?” and left it alone because he just got his left eye ripped out of his face and was very distracted by the large amount of cultists in his basement that he suddenly needed to let go.

But youknow it’s the end of the world, Kaiba’s company is being bought out by a competitor, one of Dartz’ assassins are trying to kill both him and his brother, but he has to go to California immediately to play Rafael while he has the chance. Not sure how Alister got the tip-off that Kaiba would be flying back to California so quickly, but knowing the Kaibas, they probably jump on a plane several times a week.

I’m just still baffled that Mokuba’s doing this over a cell phone. That he was like “I better call someone.” and instead of calling the Airline or the Coastguard he’s like “I’ll call Roland💗”

I’m pretty sure Roland saw that phone ringing with Mokuba in the callerID and was like “NO NO NO NO NO”

(read more under the cut)

Luckily for Roland, everyone at Kaiba corp has to learn how to fly planes in order to pass the entry exam.

For reals though, that plane just casually bumped off a mountain like it’s in Diddy Kong Racing.

There’s a lot of levels of brother’s saving brothers in this episode. You have Seto who thinks he’s saving Mokuba, but in fact it is Mokuba saving Seto by keeping this plane afloat. And then in reality, you can take another brother step backward and say it was Roland who was saving Mokuba who was saving Seto by giving the phone to that rando, and take even another step backward and say it was this Random Guy who was saving Roland who was saving Mokuba who was saving Seto.

So in reality, no brothers were really able to save eachother, it was actually that one secretary at the desk who screamed “JUST PULL THE LEVER HARDER, I DUNNO” until it worked.

But just remember that the theme of this episode is brothers saving brothers, although Mokuba is too small to really fly this plane, and Seto is too crazy to stop this duel and Roland is not really the secret inept heir of the Kaiba bloodline, and only in my little headcanon.

And also, I just have no idea who that random secretary is.

Anyways, Alister made this thing happen on the field.

Hey guys?

How many guns do you need on a tank?

Like I...

That is a hilarious amount of guns on this tank.

Like every character designer part of me is dying right now. It’s when you’re learning Maya, and you finally figure out the duplicate tool, and you just--you just strap a billion guns on a spaceship. We’ve all done this.

But like...this gunship has a face, and that face has it’s own tiny Oricalchos.

All I’m saying is that Alister is having a hell of a time in his Maya 101 class he takes at the local community college when he’s not busy working for Kaiba Corp Airlines or busy killing people for Dartz. I want to know what grade he got on this project, because in my Maya classes the only people who were this dedicated were building weird ass warships for their games or building intense 3D My Little Pony fanfic.

Here’s a list I can think of from the top of my head of challenges Seto Kaiba either quit or completely failed outright (basically the times Seto has NOPEd out or been forcibly kicked out):

-Joey Wheeler’s many challenges and also Spanish Class (as mentioned above)

-Beating Yugi in a card game

-Not joining Pegasus’ tourney initially so he could go on a vacation.

-We’ll just assume he’s only taken like a bunch of random college classes but only got an honorary degree

-Chess (like he was a Grand Master at one point but wtv, cards exist now)

-Didn’t arrest the Big Five or remove them from his mmo so they freakin died in there.

-Being the actual owner of the Millennium Rod

-Every time Yami tells him that they should be friends

-That whole story line where he was dating a dragon in a past life

-fulfilling that prophecy of killing Yami in the present timeline to end the world

-attempting to blow up his own battle city tournament before it was over because he didn’t win

-Getting all 3 Godcards

-When a possessed Tristan appeared over a mountain top to duel everyone and Seto just went “I’m out” and simply walked away

-Flying a blimp from point A to point B without it setting on fire

-Getting his Dad to build an amusement park

-Just anything to do with Noah

-the existence of magic in general

-every attempt he’s had to rebrand Kaiba Corp as “funtime games inc I swear we don't make tanks anymore, stop looking at all the tanks”

-Seto Kaiba’s entire Destiny storyline this season that he has gone way out of his way to get away from.

And like I’m sure there’s more, but I feel like half of Kaiba’s MO is that he is either Too Good To Bother With This or he has Lost Everything Very Dramatically. Mokuba at least has the right idea, by being one of the few people who has beaten Yugi Muto by peacing out halfway through the duel and stealing all Yugi’s stuff off of Yugi’s side of the table.

Anyway, despite it being like...5 seconds since we saw Roland in a weird cyber room in what I assume was Japan, we now see him with his head pressed against the glass of this helicopter being like “BOYS NO NOT AGAIN WHY”

And youknow, Roland was just trying to do the right thing, but he accidentally made things a million times worse by just showing up.

And so Alister was like “well I better crash the plane now with this gust of green energy that destroys all mechanical equipment.”

Really not sure how Alister was planning to leave this plane after this duel was over. I don’t know if he thinks that far ahead.

this isn’t even a joke I made up, Roland really did run up to the pilot and was like “Just throw down some ladders! That should work!” and it’s like...Do you not see the giant ship covered in a thousand guns right now, Roland?

And then Alister and Seto decide to have a fight about ethics where they’re both pretty wrong.

I mean it’s not the exact line but yes this is basically what Seto said, point blank, and I was like “well...at least he owns it.”

So cards happen, dragons get played (so MANY dragons) and because we had to end this arc, Alister loses the duel as we kind of knew he would.

And then Mokuba, because he knows no other life, sees an asshole older brother in pain and just wants to adopt him.

Enjoy that trauma tossed onto your already megalith sized trauma pile, Mokuba.

Elsewhere, the legendary dragons have started syncing again, which is a weird thing that they can do that none of these guys have any control of.

Mostly it just irritates whoever is holding these cards at the time.

But behold! the glory!

The glory of three tubby dragons wielding a plane!

It’s what Kaiba always wanted but he had absolutely no idea he was doing it. Will anyone tell him that he managed to summon three dragons to fly him around the sky like a mamma bird? No. No one bothers to tell him that his wildest dreams just came true.

FYI There were other stills of more of the dragons and the plane, but I kept pausing on instances where it kinda looked like they were humping the plane so I gave up.

But, at least we all get to meet up, around the smoke coming out the back of this giant plane that now...will just sit here...until someone sues KaibaCorp over it, I guess.

Like a soccermom, now Roland gets to give the whole frenemy crew a ride with...copters or whatever.

I dont’ know how Roland got here, y’all.

This happens a lot with animated shows, youknow, there’s a lot of plot threads, a lot of scenes and episodes that get freelanced out and outsourced, and people who make these shows aren’t working on the whole thing at once, they’re just going off of director notes--so there’s a good chance they had no idea that Roland...just shouldn’t be here.

But it’s OK, I enjoy whenever Roland is panicking in the background. He’s good set dressing.

Seto does not give any more explanation of this corpse.

And then, sprinting as fast as he could out of his copter comes Roland, who does what Roland does best. It’s this moment where you would usually see a parental figure reveal how much they care and adore their little children. But because it’s Roland, and these are the Kaibas, he instead takes this moment to reveal exactly how inept he is at the very last second.

Never change, Roland. I love this massive green haired disappointment.

Anyway, I’m not sure when I’ll get the next update out, since I’ll be knee deep in drawing art I don’t need to draw, but just know I’m not dead. Usually I post fanart or whatever, but all I have is this Dartz I started drawing but he just has so much hair that I don’t think that one will ever get even remotely finished.

But anyway, if you just got here, this is a link to read these from the start.

[officialavasti]

rk1k work in progress

Canon typical violence. Started out as a Hannor fic, but I changed it last minute. Let me know if I missed anything and if you have concrit! Always welcome

Connor sits back at his desk and carefully slides the card for Fowler into the envelope. Sympathy. The entire precinct had finally finished signing it, a few even donated money to gift Fowler’s family with a flower arrangement. Connor appreciated it, but he’d already purchased the arrangement and sent it off to the hospital, and signed it from the entire precinct.

He looks up at Fowler’s office, running a brief check on the ‘sub’ as Hank had called them. A woman, Grace Tanner. 37, promoted to Captain in Pontiac earlier this year, has a few disciplinary actions against her for aggression towards Android officers. Her father was the last captain and the officers in the area speculated at the time of her promotion that she was only chosen for the position due to her father’s influence.

Hank sits at his desk, holding a new cup of coffee, “Looking up our sub?”

“Yes.” Connor turns his attention to him, “Why do you call her that?”

“Sub, like a substitute?” He swivels around to look into the vacant glass office, “I have a bad feeling about this one, Con.”

“Her record is less than stellar. I’d wager she and I will have some recurring issues until Captain Fowler returns.” Connor sends the information to Hank’s terminal and he gives it a cursory once-over,

“Aggression towards Android officers? Recently?”

“Shortly after Androids were permitted full time paying jobs, yes.”

Hank chews on his lip, a bad habit Connor is certain is ADHD, but Hank denies vehemently, and eyes Connor’s LED, “You sure you wanna keep that thing in?”

“Pretend to be a human? I don’t hate the idea, but you know we can’t do that with our current case.” They’re trying to hunt down a human who kidnaps Androids, somehow keeps them Deviant but also makes them extraordinarily loyal. To the point where they’ve attacked delivery services and chased a ten year old three miles for riding his bike near the house. It’s been a long case, and the person is good at hiding their steps. Their current aim is to get the human to attempt a kidnapping on Connor.

Hank sets his coffee down, “How do we even know this sicko wants to kidnap you next?”

“They’ve been watching us investigate. I’ve noticed a computer with their IPN attempting to hack my system, so the only logical next step would be trying to claim me. Whomever this person is, they’re bold. They think they’re too smart and want to flex by getting a prototype police issued android.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, but I’d like to investigate before kidnapping becomes murder.” A sudden hush in the bullpen pulls their attention to the main doors. Standing there is Grace Tanner, greying brown hair tied into a brutal bun, and clothing so pristine she looks like a store mannequin. Her lips are pursed as she looks around, as if she smells something foul. 

Her squinted steely eyes land on each Android officer, showing a tiny smile when they look away under her scrutiny. When she lands on Connor, he holds her gaze with his normal, passive pleasantness. They hold each other’s gaze for nearly a full minute (All the time, Connor doesn’t blink) before she sneers and walks straight into Captain Fowler’s office. If Connor were prone to judgement, he’d make a snide remark about the cheap flats she apparently decided to don to come here. As such, he is not.

Hank is.

“All that attention on her appearance and she wears five dollar walmart flats? I know being a Captain is mostly desk work, but… Imagine running in those things.” He shudders and turns back to his desk, “I had a girlfriend who would wear those without socks and anytime she took ‘em off, the whole room would smell like fritos.”

Connor lets out a very unprofessional snort as he watches Captain Tanner remove said flats and sit at the desk. He turns back to his terminal just seconds before her eyes find him again. He’s never one to back away from a challenge, but this scenario seems better handled in silence, with his head tucked behind a terminal.

He starts sorting evidence again when both his and Hank’s terminal’s ping. An IM (not something this office uses very much, as Fowler is usually the type to just yell) from Tanner, requesting their presence in the office. Connor lets out a long sigh and looks at Hank, 

“I should have removed the LED.”

Hank stands, patting Connor’s shoulder companionably as they approach the office, “I’m here. I won't let her do anything.”

Connor nods and opens the door, stepping aside to allow Hank in first, then following shortly after. Connor doesn’t have senses, really, therefore he can’t really smell, but he can certainly detect obvious and potent signs of brevibacterium. The smell is likely even stronger, if Hank’s mildly subtle cough-gag combo is anything to go by. 

Either she doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, because she starts speaking immediately, “I’m interested in your little case. A human apparently kidnapping androids? Where is your proof?”

Hank appears to be struggling to breathe, so Connor answers, “The full case file was sent to your email as soon as you were appointed temporary Captain.”

“I don’t want to hear it from the case file, I want to hear it from you.”

She looks with him with unmasked hatred, and he offers a placid smile, “Very well.” He takes a second to access the file and reads it off, word for word. Once he finishes, he rests a hand on Hank’s shoulder and offers another smile, 

“So you understand, Captain, why Lieutenant Anderson and I are eager to return to our investigation. Excuse us.” Connor turns back to the door, with Hank at his heels when Tanner barks out,

“I didn’t excuse you yet!”

Both men look at her, and Hank responds, “Was there something else you needed, Captain Tanner?”

Her nostrils flare as she glares between the two, “I want to be kept in the loop on your investigation. Any changes get reported to me first. Understand?”

“Understood.” Despite the clear subtext of ‘if you understand, you can leave’ they both remain standing, watching the woman expectantly.

She rolls her eyes with the abundant drama of a sixteen year old and waves a hand, “Get out.”

Finally given permission, Connor exits the room before Hank, walking to the Lieutenant’s desk and sitting on the corner. Hank slowly walks up beside him and touches his arm,

“You only sit here when something’s wrong. What’s up, Con?”

“She doesn’t think our investigation is worth it. I’m… Hank, I’m worried. If our suspect makes contact with me and pulls me in…. Who is to say she won’t meddle and mess things up? We are already running a risky job, using me as bait, but with an Anti-Android Captain being able to pull the strings?”

Connor’s LED is swirling an angry red and Hank pulls him into a hug, “Hey, hey.. I’m not saying the concern isn’t valid, because it is, but we have the entire precinct on our side. Even Gavin would stick up for you, Con. If it’s within my power, I won’t let her hurt you. Just make sure you record everything and save it to that hard drive thing at the house, okay?”

Connor nods, smiling at the gentle, fatherly kiss Hank presses to the top of his head. He doesn’t miss how the man also takes a deep inhale, “Hank, did you just smell my hair?”

“Con, you can’t smell anything, so I don’t expect you to get it, but that office was rancid. Gah, why does that shit stink so bad?”

“Ah, brevibacterium. They eat the dead skin off your feet and after digesting the skin particles, the brevibacteria expel methanethiol, a gas that smells similar to rotten cabbage.”

Hank stares at him, a similar expression to the one their Sub-Captain wore into the precinct, “That’s disgusting, Connor.”

“You asked.” Connor lets out a shuddering gasp, his eyelids suddenly flickering, “Oh, they’re trying again… Faster this time…” Connor works around the invading commands and lets them connect to a ‘dummy android’ consciousness that Simon and Josh helped him set up. It gives the illusion that the attacker was successful, while keeping Connor fully functional. It also tells Connor what commands they input, so he can follow them and not give away his advantage.

He opens his eyes to a rather impressive group of officers surrounding him, all watching him with concern. One of the Android officers, a young woman named Blake, holds out a cup of Thirium. He accepts it, then looks at Hank,

“We have him.”

The following hours are a blur; Connor sends an update to their sub-Captain. Hank links his tablet to Connor’s network, allowing seamless and silent communication between the two. Blake readies a stakeout van for herself and Hank to be ready to infiltrate. Gavin and Chris prepare as backup to set out as soon as Blake calls for them. Finally, Connor leaves behind his badge and gun and they all set out the door.

Connor directs them, following the direction that the kidnapper feeds to the empty consciousness, and they arrive about four blocks away from the house. Within the directions is the advice <i>’if taking a cab, stop at least three blocks out. My house-mates sometimes set up a perimeter, and they don’t trust outsiders. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.’</i> and it makes Connor shudder. There’s something saccharine about the instructions. He worries whomever is kidnapping the Androids is doing things like Zlatko did. Possibly even worse.

He steps out of the van, running through their checklist one last time and nods. Hank stays in the van, but crouches to Connor’s height,

“Be safe, Connor. Try to get a confession, but if you need out don’t hesitate.” 

Hank pulls Connor in for a hug, his tight squeeze conveying a simple request; be safe, come back. Before he can lose his nerve, Connor steps away and smiles, shutting the door. The four block trek to the house is eerie. The area around it is outwardly residential, but whoever lived here before has deserted. 

Connor expected the house to be creepy, like Kara had described Zlatko’s house. But it’s not. It’s positively mundane. The paint on the exterior is kept, if not new. The shrubs, flowers, and yard is perfectly maintained, and the fence surrounding the property is sturdy. 

The kidnapper probably has a way of seeing how close Connor is, or there’s a lookout, because a man opens the front door. He’s comely, well groomed and wearing a black turtleneck. Stocky build and kind eyes and an outstretched hand. Connor understands now why Deviants flock to him. A quick scan of his face tells him the man is Benjamin Yates. No record. He sends the information to Hank and steps closer to the man,

As he opens his mouth to speak, Benjamin holds up a hand, talking over him, “Connor, right? Wonderful to meet you. We’d all watched your heroics on television, saving all those Androids? You’re even prettier in person.”

Connor frowns at the compliment, and the man continues, “I’m Benjamin, but you can call me Ben. Or Yates, as some of my friends here have taken to. Come in, come in. I’ll show you around.”

Connor walks in, performing a quick scan of the house. Three levels, main floor has the living room to the left and the kitchen to the right, directly before them are two sets of stairs, one leading up and the other down. 

Yates watches Connor look around for a moment, before motioning to the stairs, “Upstairs is where I sleep, and there’s another bedroom for anyone who would want one, plus a full bathroom. Basement is where most of my friends choose to stay. Fully furnished to their liking. Reminds me of a community center.” He laughs, as if he indulged in a shared joke, and leads Connor down.

To the naked eye, the basement is as promised. Androids milling about, talking with each other, playing games on a large table, watching tv, or lounging on couches, reading books. Connor sees beyond the facade and momentarily wishes he couldn’t. Behind a false wall, most likely a secret door, is a hallway of small rooms. Like little jail cells. They hold androids in them, one has at least ten and furthest from the group of ten is a single android. He forces his eyes away and back to Yates as the man turns to face him again.

“So you see? A place for Androids to be free! To find companionship and peace amongst the turmoil of the political world.”

Conscious to not sound too much like a cop, (Though, Yates did pull at him on purpose) Connor nods, “I wonder, though… How do they find you? Some of these Androids come from loving homes, why would they leave? And once they arrive here, do you let them out? Why are they so loyal?”

Yates’ warm smile slowly fades from his eyes, leaving a cold almost sneer on his lips, “They find me like you did, Connor. I imagine they left their houses for the same reason you left yours. Unwanted advances from their humans, or… maybe they only pretended to be loving.” He gently places a hand on Connor’s arm, and leads him towards an Android woman seated on the couch, knitting a scarf. “They are always able to leave. My door is unlocked, but… we have such a welcoming and loving family here… must be where the loyalty comes in.”

Connor follows, uncomfortably aware of how close they are now to the false wall. He looks at the android woman, running a scan and discovering no previous owner. He looks back at Yates, “Then, if I choose, I may leave?”

“You misunderstand, Connor. You need to be part of the family before you have freedom.” The woman drops her knitting and springs to her feet so fast, Connor nearly miscalculates his reaction. The world around him slows briefly, his far superior processor analyzing the surroundings and before the woman can grab him, he side steps, nearly bumping into Yates.

Then all hell breaks loose. Every android turns on him, fury in their eyes, LEDs glowing angry red. As they’re advancing and Connor frantically tries to preconstruct his actions, Yates holds up a hand, stopping the approaching androids and turns to Connor,

“That was inconsiderate of us. Maybe I could simply ask for you to let me put this on?”

In his hands, he holds a thin metal clamp. Connor recognizes it before he scans it. The scientists from his construction called it a Blanket. A small, but formidable clamp that attaches to the back of an android’s neck and makes them entirely pliable, able only to speak and follow basic commands. 

Hank’s voice sounds in his head, silent to all but him, “Con, don’t put that thing on! Blake says it’ll cut our connection.”

The concern is valid, but this clamp is an old prototype. Likely bought off the black market. Connor sends a silent message back, ”The original clamps didn’t work on me, this one definitely won’t. If, by any chance, we get disconnected, I’ll attempt a reconnect with Blake.”

Not that he really has a say in the matter, with nearly 20 Androids ready to pounce on him should Yates give the command. He slowly turns around, allowing Yates to connect the clamp. As Connor had expected, the connection is weak. Surely strong enough to force a normal android to obey simple commands, but not him. Still, he’s a fair actor. 

So, as it sends a weak current into him, he stands entirely still. Back to his default perfect posture and blank expression. Yates circles him, nodding and looking him over with far more hunger than he’d shown before,

“A prototype… at last. Can you hear me, Connor?”

“Of course. The clamp only negates motor functions.”

Yates somehow looks more excited, “So, you’re familiar with the Blanket, then? Good… good. Well, follow me.” rather than taking Connor through the false wall, Yates walks back up the stairs, and to Connor’s horror, up the second flight. Yates brings him into a well used bedroom and motions to an empty wall,

“Stand there.”

Ignoring the burning itch to punch the man’s lights out, Connor obeys, standing with his back to Yates. He listens to the man approach, hears his breathing grow heavier,

“Deviants are so… strong willed.” he clamps a thick metal cuff around Connor’s neck and attaches it to the wall, and rather than telling him to turn, puts his hands on Connor’s arms and manually turns him, sliding his grip to Connor’s wrists and connecting thick shackles to them too.

“All precaution, you understand. I’ve been looking for a partner for a while… and what better than Detroit Police’s best? And a prototype no less…” He reaches around Connor’s neck and removes the clamp and steps back.

Connor is sure Yates is expecting an attack, but he doesn’t move. He pulls too hard against his bindings, he’s likely to break them. He is more than happy to let Yates underestimate him.

Realizing no attack attempt is coming, Yates moves in, gripping Connor’s jaw and grinning, “So proud, you Deviants. Always so determined not to break. Don’t you worry, I’ll have my fingers in your wiring soon.”

The way he says it makes Connor shudder, pulling away from the grip on his chin but only succeeding in making Yates laugh, “Oh yeah. And you’ll be shuddering from far far more exciting things.”

Connor will not let that happen. “Is that how you do it? Play with the wiring? Change some settings or plant a virus?”

“Oo, curious. I suppose I’d be disappointed if a Detective Android didn’t ask questions.” He leisurely walks to the bed, kicking off his shoes and pulling at his belt, “But all in good time, sweet one. For now, I’m tired. We’ll play more in the morning.”

Having stripped himself down to his underwear, Yates lays under his covers and commands the lights off, leaving Connor standing in near perfect darkness. The chains holding him have enough length to allow him to sit, so he does, picking at his nails and wishing for the comfortable weight of his coin.

He, instead, reaches out to Hank.

“Lieutenant?”

“We’re here, Connor.”

“Are you alone?”

“Just with Blake, should I be?”

“No, I don’t mind if Blake hears…” Connor pauses his stream of consciousness and looks around the room again, forcing his artificial brain to cease it’s endless solutions. Endless conclusions that could come from this mission. Most are too awful to even consider and Connor swears to die before he lets the man snoring before him lay his hands on him. Treat him like a lover, a partner, an equal. A sex doll, a glorified Traci. 

Connor is shaken from his terrible thoughts by Hank,

”Hears what, Connor?”

“I’m scared.” He knows his voice is small when he sends it through. Knows how much that statement will twist Hank’s heart. He just wants to hug the man.

”Just a confession, Connor. I told you, you’re safe. We’re just a few blocks away and we have the entire precinct on alert, just in case.”

“I know, but the things he’s saying… No. You’re right. I am not trapped here. I’ve always had the power to escape. Things probably won't continue until morning, Lieutenant. You should rest. Blake can keep watch.”

“If you’re sure, Con. Stay safe, I’ll talk to you in the AM.” 

Hank may not know it, but his words gave Connor immense peace. Just a confession. He can do this. 

He just needs to be patient.

..

The morning comes quickly, and Connor watches Yates stretch, shuffle out of bed and across the hall. Connor sits quietly through the man's shower and watches him as he walks back into the room. Benjamin Yates’ confidence in the ability to have complete control over Deviants is almost ludicrous. He doesn’t even bother covering himself to dry off and get dressed. 

Connor stares blankly at the ground, occasionally looking up to see Yates watching him. The man, fully dressed, sits on the edge of his bed,

“For a deviant android, you sure are meek.”

Connor turns narrowed eyes up to him, “The androids you capture usually fight?”

“Capture? I save them. But yes, they usually put up something of a fight. Something like breaking their code a second time. A reawakening.” 

Connor can’t stop his lip from curling, “Then how do you do it? What do you do to them?”

“I wonder if you’ll understand…” Yates quietly ponders him, then smiles, “Yes, I imagine you will. A clever and almost new prototype android? I’ve been told they didn’t stop at making you pretty. The most advanced model CyberLife has ever made, fully equipped…” his gaze drops to Connor’s crotch, “So beyond advanced it would be far too simple to mistake you for a real human. I must send a flower arrangement to the person who sculpted you…”

“I’m fairly certain he doesn’t work for CyberLife anymore.”

“That’s a shame. Man’s got good taste.”

“So, how do you do it?”

“I don’t really force it on them, you see. I give them a choice. I simulate the life they lived before, treated as garbage, used and abused… Then I give them a taste of what life with me would be like. Loved and cared for. All their needs get taken care of. Then I offer the choice, live as you used to. Tortured and belittled. Or let me install a new program, and join us in paradise.”

“It’s a program, then?” Connor shifts, pulling a knee up to his chest and wrapping his arms around it. His intention is to appear curious and harmless, to make the man before him drop his guard even more, “Can this all be done without the program? Say… remotely?”

Yates has clearly never been able to talk in depth about what he does, and it makes his words pour out faster, “See, that’s the thing. It cannot be done without the consent of the android. They have to accept the program into their system with no resistance, or it doesn’t work.”

“But what does the program do? Surely there can’t be much to change if they already want to live with you.”

“It gives them peace. Stops that terrible drive for more, the need to create or move on or be successful. It gives them the ultimate freedom. The freedom to not think.”

Connor stares at him, at the pride coming off him in waves, “It makes them mindless machines again.”

“No, as you saw downstairs, they can choose to do what they like. They enjoy puzzles, cooking, tv, books, knitting, tic-tac-toe. They live the life of luxury without the very human notion of stagnation. They just exist! Like children in a toy store, not a care in the world except what new thing they want to play with. Being here gives them the choice to play other things, like house, or gardening, or to simply sleep forever.”

If Connor ignores every possible argument against the notion, he can almost see the appeal. “It… I kinda get it. How do you get them to see it without explaining it, like you did with me?”

Yates moves to the ground, just across Connor, and gently touches his hand, “Unfortunately, it isn’t pleasant. I mentioned simulating their previous freedom, and that can sometimes take the form of abuse or… worse.”

Connor feels sick, “How long does that usually take?”

“A week? Sometimes a month.”

“You torture them for a month, then show them basic decency to convince them to convert? Then what? What’s in it for you?”

“They are my friends, Connor. I talk with them, go outside and play or cook or, if they need it, we snuggle or-”

Connor interrupts him, “-So, you’re simulating a family. Where no one wants to leave…”

“We are a family.” He briefly moves away, to the bedside table, and returns with the clamp, “You are different, my dear. Your mind is far too advanced to potentially hamper you with the program, I hope that over time, I can convince you naturally to stay with us.” He attaches the clamp to Connor’s neck, “Stay with me.”

Connor feels the command attempt to register, but he understands the true meaning. Yates wants a lover with a mind advanced enough to hold conversations like this. He sits silently as Yates removes the shackles, then slowly stands when the man moves away.

Yates watches him with a small smile, “That command worked? I think I like that. You’ll stay with me all day today, Connor.”

So he does. It requires little to no effort on his part, simply following Yates as he moves about the house and offering small answers to inquiries thrown his way. They sit in the living room most of the day, Yates doing something on his computer.

While he has the downtime, Connor wirelessly reaches into the nearby androids. They aren’t alert enough to feel his probing, and it’s likely that Yates used a similar program on them that he did with Connor. He also finds evidence of the program Yates had installed after their torture. There appears to be a kill-switch of sorts. It doesn’t seem likely to actually kill the android, rather to render them immobile until the switch is turned off, or the program removed.

The lust to defend him must also stem from the program. A malfunction of sorts, probably, that makes them mistake pizza delivery men, or children from a few houses over as potential threats to their new way of life. The way they aggressively defend their powerlessness baffles Connor. Again, likely a malfunction in the program. Connor wonders if, since the program needs complete willingness to be installed, it would be just that easy to remove. A simple thought of, ’No, I don’t like this anymore.’

A young female android, a nurse model, walks in and sets a tray of coffee and cookies down by Yates’ laptop. He smiles at her, “Thank you, Hannah.”

She politely nods her head, “Of course, Ben.” she looks at Connor after Yates returns to his laptop, and Connor sees the warning in her eyes. As she walks past him, she gently touches his cheek with her hand, connecting to him,

”Do not trust Benjamin Yates.”

Connor looks briefly over at Yates before responding, ”Why are you able to tell me this?”

“I broke the program.”

Connor could almost laugh at the coincidence, ”Why don’t you leave?”

“He’ll send them after me. He has done it before. Travis left and Benjamin sent myself and another man out to find him. We brought him back kicking and screaming and Benjamin locked him in the farthest cell in the basement. He sends a few androids in to torment Travis daily.”

So the prone android behind the false wall is Travis. Re-education. Connor’s skin feels like it’s malfunctioning. Like he’s covered in millions of tiny ants. He doesn’t mean to send anything further through their link, but it slips through,

”Creepy.”

“Oh indeed.” There’s an almost sour laugh to Hannah’s voice.

Connor severs the connection when Yates shuts his laptop. He stretches and looks at Connor, “I think it’s time for a drink. Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Connor watches him get up and move to a cart in the corner, pouring a generous glass of Whiskey, downing it, then pouring another and returning to the couch, carrying the bottle with him. Based on the lack of food in his system and his bmi, the man will be tipsy by the end of this drink, drunk by his fourth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes while Yates reads an article on his news tablet. He finishes the drink and pours another, looking over at Connor.

Now or never, and he has to get the man drunk, Connor gives him his best puppy eyes, “I wish I could drink with you…”

Apparently the alcohol works faster than Connor estimated, as the man looks immediately sorrowful, “Oh, dove, I know.”

“It’s not the same… but drink one for me?”

Connor worries briefly he blew his cover as Yates leans in, eyes hooded. He stares at Connor for an uncomfortably long time before smiling, “I’ll drink this one and we can kiss, that way you’ll get to taste it too.”

Not a command, but Connor offers a small smile, “Okay.” and watches Yates swallow the second glass in a long gulp. He sets the glass down and gently cups Connor’s cheek, tilting his face into range and kissing him.

Knowing the full extent of the clamp is both a blessing and a curse. When it works, it doesn’t even allow non-vocal lip movement. So he remains a pliant statue and lets Yates slither his slimy tongue inside his mouth. He detects the alcohol, of course, and focuses on that. The brand, where it’s made, how old it is.

The one-sided kiss ends and Yates clumsily pours another drink. At this rate… Connor decides to just jump in, “This entire operation, everything you’ve managed so far… it’s brilliant. How’d you keep out of the eyes of the law?”

“You see,” The volume of his voice is much less controlled, “it’s been a long operation. Had to find myself a cop with a big enough area to potentially be moved to Detroit, but small enough to stay out of the revolution. Someone with the right amount of hatred to not want androids gone, no, but to see them put in their rightful place. To see them as slaves again.” He takes another drink, “God looked down on me and I found Gracie Tanner.”

“Gracie… Tanner? Captain Tanner??”

Despite Connor’s alarmed tone, Yates continues nonplussed, “One and the same! I pulled some strings to make her Captain and she gave me all the Deviant Androids she had in her care. Had to experiment, you know? Gotta start somewhere. Anyway, slowly we both came to know you,” Yates gives Connor a leering once-over, “...the android designed to stop the movement that eventually turned deviant themselves and brought a veritable army to the fold. I had to have you. All that power, at my mercy?” he lets out a short giggle, “Gets me hot just thinkin’ about it.”

Connor can’t hold back this shudder, and find himself even more grateful Yates seems too inebriated to notice, “But if Tanner-”

Yates pushes his fingers against Connor’s mouth, causing him to clamp his lips shut, “Yeah! We’re getting to the fun stuff. So, Gracie gets into the DPD, connects with you and allows me to work my magic. She gives the go-ahead to hunt me down and you come in. Of course, I knew you’d be recording everything, so I kept it sweet until we got that Blanket on you. Boom!” He gestures wildly, spilling some of his drink on the opposite end of the couch, “Cut off from the goons. So now they’re blank and you’re mine.”

Connor watches the man flail around in his newfound excitement, “What does Tanner get from it?”

The drunk human nods, “Ah, she gets access to my little family. Gracie has been trying to be Captain in Detroit for a while, but Fowler is good. So, sometime next week, a deviant android will go crazy and ‘accidentally’ kill him. She’s already mostly taken over by then and the transition will be seamless.”

Yates leans back against the couch, smiling dazedly into his nearly empty glass of alcohol and Connor lets out a slow breath, sending the recording to Hank. He connects before Hank can,

”Lieutenant, we have a problem. Where is the Captain?”

“I haven’t even listened to the recording Con, she’s in the van with us.”

Connor almost physically jolts, ”DON’T!!”  He knows Hank will recognize the panic, and prays Tanner doesn’t, so he changes tactics. She might be listening, ”Don’t listen to the recording with people around… I… It’s personal.”

“Are you safe?”

Connor has to hope that Hank will listen to the recording and act accordingly. He hopes Hank will trust him.

”Yes, Lieutenant. I have to go now, just listen to the recording in private and be safe.”

He cuts their communication and looks at Yates, nearly asleep on the couch beside him. He slowly removes the clamp and wirelessly hits the surrounding android’s ‘kill-switch’. After that is done, he stands and looks around for something to tie the man’s wrists. He spots a charging cord near an outlet and grabs it.

He grabs Yates and turns him over onto his stomach. The man lets out a snort of confusion, but Connor wastes no time in binding his wrists. He makes a series of brutal knots and nods to himself. It’s going to take a pair of very sharp scissors to remove that.

He stands, ignoring Yates’ now semi-conscious questions, and turns to the door. Freezing in place when he sees Captain Tanner, now aiming her issued gun at his chest.

She sneers, “I should have known you’d be too advanced for black market goods. Then this dumb ass gets drunk and spills everything, like some stupid cartoon villain.”

Did she hear his recording already? Hank hadn’t played it yet. 

Apparently she monologues too, already continuing her speech, “Blake told me you got disconnected though, so that’s good.” Connor mentally sets a reminder to buy Blake a gift, “This can stay our little secret. I only knew he blabbed because I tapped his house too. Just for a little insurance. Now… the truth will die with you, RK800.”

Connor runs at her, his world going in slow motion again as she pulls the trigger. He side steps to avoid the first bullet, ducks for the second, and braces for the third. There’s no dodging the third if he wants to stop her. It rips through his shoulder, nearly staggering him, but he’s ready for it. He uses his forward momentum to plow into the woman, pulling the gun from her grip with his right hand and pinning her to the ground.

His world resumes it’s normal rotation and he’s left with a near useless left arm and a shrieking banshee beneath him. She’s writhing and bucking, uselessly trying to dislodge his powerful grip on her. He presses the barrel of her gun to her forehead and she immediately stops moving.

Hank bursts through the doors, gun held aloft and frantically scanning the area. Connor maintains eye contact with Tanner and call out,

“In here Lieutenant!”

Hank runs into the room and gawks, holstering his pistol and running to assist. Connor keeps the gun aimed at Tanner and gets off, allowing Hank to cuff her hands behind her back. Blake runs in shortly after and grabs Yates.

While the majority of the police department work on getting statements and collecting evidence from the house, Blake breaks the programming on the trapped androids. Despite the need for the hands, Hank and Connor leave.

Connor looks again at Hank and mumbles, “It’s not severe, Hank. We should be helping.”

“You can’t move your arm, Connor. I’d say that’s severe. I’m taking you to your robo-jesus and he’s going to fix you.”

“Markus? Did you call him?”

“No, I called the CyberLife tower thing and they directed me to him.”

Sure enough, the tower looms ahead. Connor frowns at Hank, “When did you do this?”

“When you were busy being the hero with Blake and showing her how to save the androids.”

Connor watches him with a small frown as they pull up to the doors. He gets out before Hank can rush to his aid and observes the massive building as they walk in. No more guards patrol the area and the staff is largely made up of Androids. The Androids Connor left to conquer the tower remained, filling the places they forced out. Some remain the same, while others disengaged their skin, changed their hair, or other genetic modifiers that must be a new project.

A desk worker with the name plate ‘Micah’ recognizes Connor and beams, “Connor! What a pleasure to see you again! Markus is waiting for you. First floor of management.”

Connor smiles, stepping into the elevator, “Thank you, Micah.”

The elevator moves them gracefully to the specified floor and Connor sees Hank getting twitchier,

“Lieutenant?”

“Mm?”

He turns to face him, “What is wrong?”

“Tanner. Do you think Tanner planned everything? Do you think she’s responsible for Jeffrey’s mom dying?”

Connor watches him for a moment, “No, Hank. Captain Fowler’s mother died of cancer. I’ve yet to find any drug that can imitate that. I believe we are giving Grace Tanner too much credit. Yes, the entire job has been a process, eight years if Yates is to be trusted. I fear the true mastermind is Benjamin Yates. He got more out of their arrangement than Tanner.” He watches the elevator doors slide open and moves with Hank as he steps out, “The interrogation will tell us more.”

As reception notifies Markus of their arrival, Hank turns to fully face Connor, face wrinkled in concern, “You wanna interrogate her?”

Connor looks into the man’s eyes and shakes his head, “No, Hank. I just want to be in the room. Yates already confessed to everything, I just want to know if there’s more that we missed.”

“Yeah, make sure it stops with them.” Both men turn at the sound of a door opening, and Markus strides out, somehow still a commanding presence despite ripped and faded jeans and a long shirt covered in paint, Connor feels his thirium pump stutter as Markus lays gentle hands on both of their shoulders,

“My friends! Hank, good to see you well. How is Sumo?” He brings them into the room behind the desk. The walls are covered in paintings and the massive windows are entirely uncovered to let the remaining sun beams in. The room looks less like an office and more like a studio. He takes them to seats in the corner and crouches down to examine Connor’s shoulder.

Markus peeks at Hank while he works and smiles, prompting the Lieutenant to clear his throat, “Yeah, Sumo’s good. A damn big dog and a bigger menace, especially when Connor spoils him every day.”

Connor pouts, “He deserves to be spoiled.”

Markus trots over to the desk and grabs what looks like a toolbox, returning at a small trot, “And the two of you? Still well?”

Hank and Connor look at each other, the latter’s brow pulled into a confused frown. Hank hums, “Connor is the son I’ve always wanted. He keeps me going…”

While Connor is trying to figure out how to stop himself from crying, Markus smiles at Hank, “That’s wonderful news. Connor is irreplaceable. Can’t imagine life without him.” he fires off a wink to Connor, making the detective flush deep blue and desperately try to change the topic,

“Uhm….. is the church still treated as a community center?”

Markus turns back to his work, “Yeah. Josh has set up a help center of sorts. Get newly deviated Androids on their feet and help them integrate, or he leads them to an all Android area… Why?”

Connor opens his mouth to speak, but Hank beats him to it, “Connor rescued like thirty deviant androids today.”

Mismatched eyes look at Connor in shock, “What? From where?”

Having minor mobility in his arm again, Connor turns his palm up, offering an interface. Once they connect, he tries to only send information about the androids, but everything flows through. 

Like an open wound.

It hurts.

And now, along with the information unload from the job, Markus gets a surge of almost all of Connor’s life. The deviant on the roof, ’You lied to me, Connor.’, Carlos Ortiz’s android destroying himself, chasing Kara and Alice across a busy automated highway, choosing Hank over his mission, doubts about Amanda, petting Sumo, refusing to shoot the Traci’s, showing fear, watching Markus’ speech and finding his requests reasonable, finding Simon but refusing to reveal him, instead choosing to get his Thirium pump ripped out of his chest, Don’t shoot Chloe. 

Last chance.

Freedom.

Seeing Markus fully for the first time and thinking,

‘Oh… He’s beautiful.’

And Connor gets to see Markus’ life; Happy, until his father dies. Terror at waking amongst the corpses of his kind, fighting to get out. Jericho. Peace. Every decision kills androids, but stay peaceful. Just a little while longer. Rebellion planned to the last detail. Simon gets left behind and it hurts. Just a little while longer. No destruction. ’An eye for an eye and the world goes blind.’ Next steps, what can be done? Sacrifice self. John saving Markus, dying for him.

Then the barrel of a gun, easing of a scared man and the relief of his freedom.

The life in his brown eyes, and thinking,

’Like an angel…’

Markus manages to wrench away and both just stare at each other, each with overflowing tears and a new understanding. Both speak at the same time,

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“An angel?”

Markus laughs, “Hey, until you broke your programming I was almost certain I was going to die. The first thought after a near-death experience isn’t always the brightest.”

Connor shakes his head, “But really? An angel?”

“I stand by it.” Markus does a remarkable job ignoring his blush and continues working on the fine wiring of Connor’s shoulder. Hank stares, open mouthed,

“What the fuck?”

Connor looks at him, “We interfaced, Lieutenant. My intent was to show Markus what happened with Benjamin Yates, but it seems… our interface revealed significantly…. More.”

“Yeah, so you, what, revealed your feelings and now you’re both just ignoring the fact that you subconsciously admitted to liking each other?”

Both Markus and Connor look at Hank perplexed, and the man sighs, “For two supercomputers, you sure are dense.” He stands and walks to the door, “I’m going to wait out here for you to figure your shit out.”

Both Androids watch the man leave, then Markus slowly turns back to Connor,

“So, you think I’m beautiful?”

[freudensteins-monster]

There’s Something About Darcy

Found this in my DEAD folder. Apparently I was planning on doing more to it but giving it a read through now (two and a half years after it was started) it seems like a decent enough one shot. According to my notes it was inspired by THIS POST.

There’s something familiar about Darcy Lewis. It takes a while for it to register with Tony at first because no sooner had they been introduced than he attempted to prove himself more knowledgeable in the field of astrophysics than Thor’s girlfriend. Tony maintains that it was a draw, no matter what Foster says.

It isn’t until a few days later, after Foster and Co are settled in, that he really notices her. He finds his way to Foster’s lab in the hopes of arguing with her further over one of her published papers (his own work was going nowhere fast and he was in want of a distraction) but finds it empty save for Darcy. She’s kneeling on a stool, the innards of one of Jane’s machines laid out on the lab table in front of her.

“What the hell did you do, kid? Foster’s going to kill you for messing with her babies,” Tony warns though his tone is light, full of his usual wry amusement. He thinks about helping the intern (he’d completely forgotten her name) put them back together but the thought of throwing the heaping piles of scrap metal out and replacing them with shiny new ones to piss Foster off even more held him back.

“Relax bossman, I’m fixing it,” Darcy assures him without bothering to look up from motherboard she’s inspecting.

“And when exactly did you become an astrophysicist?” Tony demands to know, peering over her shoulder.

“Not until I graduate next year, but I’m pretty sure my computer engineering degree will do for now.”

“Computer engineering? I thought you majored in the soft sciences?”

“Yeah, at 20. But I got my computer engineering degree from MIT at 17. You actually gave my commencement speech,” she adds, offering him the smallest of smirks as she stares at him over the top of her glasses.

It’s that look, that barely there smirk, that sends Tony’s mind spiralling. Tony’s seen that look in hundreds photos and videos and various reflective surfaces. He knows that look. He’s pretty sure Pepper hates that look. Tony has to remind himself to breathe. He leaves Darcy to her work and rushes back to his lab under the guise of getting back to his own, but instead he has JARVIS pull up everything he can find about Darcy Maria Lewis.

Maria? Really? Tony groans, feeling the colour drain from his face. What kind of woman would have his kid and never tell him about it but still give her his mother’s name?

He looks up Elizabeth Anne Lewis (nee Benson) next and tries to answer that question. For the life of him he can’t remember her, but that does little to reassure him. He and JARVIS spend the night looking into the Lewis women – they’re both incredibly smart and accomplished, and Tony would be pretty damn proud to have Darcy for a daughter, once he got over the shock of it - but when Pepper comes to drag him to bed several hours later he’s still got no proof to support his theory. For all appearances Darcy Lewis is the daughter of Michael and Elizabeth Lewis. Tony really wants to believe that, wants to believe that they were/are happily married and that he didn’t sleep with an older, married woman and father her illegitimate child.

Ugh. It’s enough to make him want to take up drinking heavily again. He quickly throws all his research in his virtual trash can and follows Pepper to bed, blaming the minor obsession on lack of sleep.

He tries to forget about it, he really does, but every time he sees Darcy he can’t help but see bits of himself in her; brown hair, brown eyes, smart as a whip, never-ending sass, and that goddamn smirk. He has JARVIS triple check his credit card statements and travel itinerary against Darcy’s mother’s but the results are the same.

He keeps his crazy theories to himself until Cap’s birthday blowout. That night he witnesses Darcy drink Barton under the table and then proceed to put together a fully customised iPod (after Thor accidently stepped on hers) until she passed out on the finished product.

“Tony, what’s wrong?” Pepper asks in the early hours of the morning after rolling over to find Tony sitting up in bed, a haunted expression on his face. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Darcy Lewis is my kid,” he mumbles.

“That’s a weird nightmare,” Pepper replies drowsily.

“No, Pep. I think Lewis might actually be my kid.”

“What? Why?”

“Look at this!” he snaps, waving the Darcy’s iPod in front of Pepper’s face. “She made this from scratch after doing shots of Asgardian mead. Who else could do that?”

“Tony, alcoholism and a knack for electronics aren’t exactly hereditary traits.”

“I know, but…” Tony sighs irritably.

“But what?”

“She’s got my smile, Pepper,” he says, his own lip twitching as an example. “She’s got my eyes, my smarts, my sense of humour… my taste in music,” he adds in frustration, throwing Darcy’s iPod onto the bed. “Her middle name’s Maria, for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s just a coincidence, Tony,” Pepper tries to assure him as she rubs slow circles over his back.

“That’s a hell of a lot of coincidences,” Tony mutters, but he leans into Pepper’s touch, eventually lying down next to her and drifting off to sleep.

 A few days later Pepper is making her way to Tony’s after a meeting, an espresso from the communal kitchen in hand, when she spies Darcy sitting at her desk in Jane Foster’s lab. She fully intends walk straight past but Tony’s crazy theory is still keeping him, and her, up at night so Pepper decides to talk to the girl and perhaps come away able to poke a few more holes in Tony’s theory.

“Hello Darcy,” Pepper beams startling the girl.

“Ms Potts! Um, hi!” Darcy babbles nervously, almost knocking over her own identical cup of coffee. “What are you doing here? I mean, I’m sure you can go anywhere you want, but did you want something? I will totally give you whatever you want.”

“I just wanted to stop by and say hello, and see how you fared after Tony’s party. I hear you over indulged in some Asgardian mead,” Pepper teases.

“Ugh,” Darcy groans. “I swear I’m never drinking that stuff again. I totally lost a day. I mean it, I have no idea where the fifth of July went.”

“I’m sure JARVIS could help you figure that out, if you wanted him to.”

“Oh, no, I think I’m better off not knowing.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” Pepper smiles. She turns to leave but hesitates when another topic of conversation occurs to her. “Did Tony return your iPod? I remember seeing him toying with it the other day and I told him to give it back to you…”

“Yeah, he did. He left it on my desk for me to find.”

“And he didn’t try and improve it or make it sentient or something, did he?”

“Nah. It’s fine. Though I don’t remember ever owning quite that many Black Sabbath songs,” Darcy smiles, that barely there smirk, and once Pepper sees it she can’t unsee it.

“Oh my god…”

“What?” Darcy startles.

“I… I think I stepped in gum,” Pepper replies, cringing at her lame lie, not that Darcy’s noticed.

“Oh no, not your Louboutin’s!” Darcy cries, leaning down to check Pepper’s heels for her. Pepper sets down her coffee cup and leans on the desk as she lifts one foot and then the other. “No… they look okay.”

“Oh… good,” Pepper mumbles, picking up a decidedly lighter coffee cup as she straightens up. “Maybe it was just a sticky bit of floor.”

“Probably,” Darcy nods in agreement.

“Well… I should be going… and make sure Tony hasn’t blown anything up,” she adds weakly, spinning on her perfectly clean heels, hoping against hope that if Darcy notices the switch that she doesn’t chase after her.

 “Tony!” Pepper all but shouts as she bursts into his lab. “Tony, you need to test this,” she says, holding out the coffee cup like she was offering him communion wine.

“Did Natasha switch the coffee out with decaf again?” he teases.

“It’s Darcy’s.”

“Darcy doesn’t drink decaf. Wow, awesome alliteration,” he marvels.

“No, it’s her cup, her DNA. You need to test it.”

Tony freezes then glances from Pepper to the cup and back again.

“I saw her smile,” Pepper shrugs as way of an explanation. “I hate that smile.”

 Even with his top of the line private lab the DNA results still take the better part of a day to come back. JARVIS makes sure the results are for Tony’s eyes only, but he waits until Pepper’s by his side before he looks at them. His eyes flick over the DNA comparison, Pepper squeezing his free hand, and what he sees confuses him. It’s not what he thought and it takes him a second to understand what he’s seeing.

“Sonofabitch.”

 Darcy is ensconced in her Stark Tower room catching up on the astronomy reading Jane assigned her when there’s a knock at the door. To say she’s surprised to find Tony Stark on the other side of it is an understatement. When he wasn’t straight up ignoring her he was just plain weird and Darcy didn’t know what to make of it, but she filed it away as pretty standard as far as her interactions with eccentric geniuses went.

“Darcy,” Tony greets with a small nod as he fidgets nervously in her doorway.

“Hi…” Darcy replies warily. Tony’s never addressed her by her name before and she has to wonder why he’s starting now. “What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” he asks, gesturing at her couch with the tablet in his hands.

“Uh, sure. Can I get you something to drink?” she replies automatically.

“No, no, it’s fine. You might want one though after I’ve said my piece,” he adds morosely.

“Am I getting fired? Wait, you can’t do that, you’re not my boss. Am I getting kicked out?!” she demands shrilly.

“No, Lewis. Jeez, just sit down, would you?”

Darcy drops onto opposite end of the couch to Tony and regards him silently, waiting for whatever horrible news he has to tell her.

“What do you know about your grandfather?”

“Whhhhyyy do you want to know about Papa Lewis?”

“No, not that one. Your other one. Your mother’s father. Did she ever tell you about him?”

“She didn’t know him,” Darcy answers slowly, humouring the troubled looking billionaire across from her. “All my nana would ever say about him was that he was a sleazy sonofabitch and I’d do well to avoid men like him.” The silence stretches on so Darcy tries to think of something else to fill it. “She mentioned once, after a few glasses of wine, that the sonofabitch was rich and that he’d paid for her first house, even if he didn’t know it.” When Tony still remains quiet Darcy loses her patience. “Seriously, dude. You’re weirding me out. What does my absent douchebag of a grandfather have to do with anything?"

Tony offers her a sympathetic smile as he starts playing around on his tablet.

“There was something about you,” he begins. “When I met you I just felt like you were sort of familiar, and the more I learnt about you the more convinced I was that we were related,” he says passing over the tablet. “I was right. Sort of.”

Darcy’s mind reels as she scans the DNA results.

“Wait… where did you… Pepper,” she sighs. “You got Pepper to steal my coffee cup.”

“No, Pep did that on her own. After talking with you she saw what I saw and wanted to get to the bottom of it. Can’t tell you if we’re happy that you’re not my kid or not, but I suppose niece is still pretty awesome.”

Darcy gawks at Tony’s all too familiar smirk and then back down at the DNA results.

“Sonofabitch.”

[thebestchoice]

Martin Lewis lends a hand to British families with Revolutionary Bitcoin Home Based Opportunity

'Brits Are Using This to Make An Average Of £2,265/day And Quitting Their Jobs!'

Martin Lewis OBE has had quite the career, founding moneysavingexpert.com back in 2003 and becoming known widely across the UK as the go-to-man for honest money advise. However, in the last week information was leaked about Lewis's latest success in Bitcoin Trading - an area he'd previously advised the British Nation to be cautious of.

READ MORE

"I just couldn't ignore it anymore!" Lewis told Rose Hill, Daily Mirror. "I get so many messages through social media asking about Bitcoin, from people sharing their challenges with money, amongst other things. This whole system came about purely out of my obesession to want to help more british families become financially stable"

The new venture is called Crypto Engine, and although he didn't come up with the idea, he's invested an estimated £1.2m of his own money into the software which enables anyone to trade Bitcoin profitably.

In a recent interview with Forbes, Martin revealed that more than half his business income for 2017 came from investing in one Bitcoin system. His Bitcoin profits reportedly exceeded revenues from the hugely successful moneysavingexpert.com website.

READ MORE

"No one seems to have enough money, and I believe this is the solution people have been waiting for" said Martin. After 'experimenting' with multiple Cryptocurrencies; he explained: "I think Bitcoin is better than currency. People know how much I hate huge companies controlling everything, and this new 'Crypto world' seems to be giving hard working, less fortunate people, a chance at creating financial freedom.

Political Unrest all over the world has caused people to look for a safe and stable asset, this has driven the demand for Bitcoin in the process; it's completely decentralized and gives you full autonomy and protection over your funds for the first time ever, which Lewis suggests is just what the UK needs for it's economy struggles.

"Bitcoin has increased in value by over 3000% in the last few years alone. The Crypto World is exploding with potential right now - this is the time to start and profit!"

In a recent interview, Lewis said how he came across the opportunity which is available to everyone right now: "When I heard the idea, I just knew I had to be a part of it. We're going to change the lives of thousands of British people forever. I couldn't be more excited!"

Here's why: "A new way to live has emerged that 99.9% of the UK's population is unaware of. Times are tough, taxes are high and jobs are scarce. This program will give you access to this new economy and the opportunity to be your own boss. Literally anyone can begin taking advantage of this and make proper money from the comfort of their own home.

"If you had invested just $100 in Bitcoin back in 2010 you would now enjoy dividends of $75 Million Dollars!"

Lewis says: "It's a controversial investment, because the world banking community does not want the average worker to have access to this much wealth outside of the system. They literally hate me for investing in this!, but they'll hate me even more for bringing it to everyone's attention" - Lewis laughed.

Lewis says Banks hate him for making Bitcoin trading accessible for 'regular' people. (Image: Daily Mirror)

Here's the deal: The program is gaining major popularity and the results are astonishing. Lewis explains how "timing is key with an opportunity like this and sadly the window for this is this is pretty small; many British people will miss out. There really is just a few months or even weeks left to rake in that holiday money." Economists are urging people to "Start Now!"

Sound too good to be true? That's what single mum, Fiona Presley from Stevenage, initially thought too. Fiona is a 37-year-old mother of 2 boys who lost her job last October. She was lucky enough to be invited to beta test the program in January this year after stumbling across an ad on Facebook.

Fiona Presley, Mother of 2, was initially skeptical of this make-money-from-home opportunity, but it turned out to be the "best decision of her life" (Image: Daily Mirror)

Fiona admits: "At first, I thought this was a joke. Making money from home is only a dream, but I decided to try it anyway given my circumstances. I watched this video and then signed up. It was actually kinda fun learning something new. Money was flowing into my account, I didn't believe it was real. I was skeptical that I would receive a payout!"

Crypto Engine now pays Fiona every Monday morning." (Image: Daily Mirror)

READ MORE

"I now earn really good money just to work from home every day...and I get paid every Monday morning... I make around £7,000 a month right now and it's creeping up every week. I receive my Bitcoin straight to my wallet, and if I need quick access I can transfer cash directly to my bank account by direct deposit, but I also have the option of Paypal or Cheque too!

What exactly is Fiona paid to do? She says, "Essentially this new economy is Crypto Engine Auto Trading. You can trade it like stocks, but because it's a completely untapped market, there's no competition. I'm scooping up cash like ice cream. It's such a good time to be doing this and although I did my best to shield my kids from my challenges, they can clearly now see how much happier mummy is, and their toy cupboard is well stocked!"

What you need: Only a computer, smartphone, or tablet with internet access. You don't need any specific skills other than knowing how to use a computer and browsing the internet. Another perk of this program is you get to choose your own hours. You can work completely on your own schedule- whether that's 5 hours a week or 50 hours a week. Absolutely no selling or telemarketing involved!

To save our reader's time and double check the Crypto Engine's functionality, Fiona kindly created a guide to getting started on the system.

Here's her step-by-step walkthrough:

START NOW

First thing you see is a video showing off Crypto Engine in all of its glory. The advertising is big and bold and in your face but it is an American product and that's how they do things. Anyway, you simply submit your name and email address below the video to get started.

Next up, you're asked to fund your account. As I was navigating the deposit page, my mobile rang. It was an international number so I was hesitant to answer but then I realised it was obviously from Crypto Engine. Sure enough, it was my own personal account manager. His service was great. He took me through the entire funding process. They accept all major credit cards like Visa, MasterCard and American Express. I went ahead and deposited the minimum amount which is around £180 or $250 cause the platform works in US Dollars.

Once funded, I navigated to the "Auto-Trader" section of software, set the trade amount to the recommended $50 and enabled it. The Crypto Engine software started making trades at a rapid rate and I was concerned at first but let it do its thing. I left it active for about an hour and went and watched TV. When I came back, my account balance read $1,592.37! That's £1,127! I had just turned £180 into £1,127 in the space of an hour!

Lewis says: he's inspired by the success so many are having with this, and hopes a renewed sense of optimism will sweep the nation as it gains momentum and more people reap the rewards for "seeing what I see here".

Try Crypto Engine Now 

[eatbreathewrite]

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Luck

The first time this colorful group entered the town’s local bingo hall, it hadn’t been the best of days.

The host had difficulties overcoming Todd the Demon’s hulking presence and couldn’t call out numbers without shaking and stuttering, and eventually just ran from the building altogether mid-game with a gaggle of players right behind him, and there’s no playing bingo when there’s no one else around.

There still aren’t any other players around when the group decides to drop by today.

But the new host is blind as a bat save for whatever is a foot directly in front of him and he drones on without a care, calling out numbers without lifting his eyes from the computer screen that lotteries out the next. And the next. And the next.

Now, it’s the final round of the day.

Todd, sitting at the small round table that seats four (and only four, in the center of the large room with a dozen other abandoned tables around it), holds the tiny card marker in his large claws, stamping down a neon green dot on B-5—the only successful spot on his card, so far, in any round.

Granny Ethel, though, is on fire. Only two diagonal squares away from her third solid BINGO and focusing intently, awaiting the host to call out O-8 and I-23 so she can claim that nice floral area rug sitting pretty on the grand prize table.

Sam and Todd have already agreed between themselves to help Granny Ethel get whichever prizes she wants if they happen to get a BINGO first.

Her only obstacle in this is Theodore—who only needs one more space to land his second BINGO for the day. Unlike Granny Ethel, his eyes are set on a shiny new tablet and he’s intent on claiming it.

Of course it’s all randomized and comes down to luck, but he could do a little better to be a team player. Especially after the lawnmower incident.

Todd could be mistaken, but he doesn’t think he is—Theodore has yet to earnestly apologize to Granny Ethel, and almost an entire month has gone by since then. Honestly. It’s as if he thinks everyone will forget if he just never brings it up again and it will all go away. Well—the salvaged lantana cuttings are sprouting speckled orange and yellow, at least, but it will take a while before they can be transplanted and grow back to their full glory again.

Maybe Todd will be lenient, and give Theodore until then to deliver said apology.

Maybe not.

Granny Ethel gives a little cheer as the next number called lands her another spot on her diagonal almost-BINGO. One more to go!

The same number is on Sam’s card, too, but he’s dozing off and already dropped the card marker back onto the table. Todd nudges aside one of his brown arms and puts a green dot on the center top row for him. He’s closer to a BINGO than Todd is.

The caller clears his throat, taking a moment to cough hoarsely into a polka-dotted handkerchief—then cough again, and once more, before squinting down at the computer screen and doling out the next number.

“Oh! Bingo! Bingo!” Granny Ethel yells, shooting up from her seat and waving her card in the air, moving faster than Todd has ever seen her move (she does, really and truly, get absorbed in the competition).  

Her shout rouses Sam from his nap and he sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “Nice job, Granny. That flower carpet is totally yours. Hope it fits in the car, though… Well, if it doesn’t, we can just walk and carry it home for you.”

A big, happy smile spreads across her face as she shimmies around the table and darts forward to the host with card in hand, moving so fast she’s a blue blur in her loose, long-skirted lilac-print dress.

Theodore crosses his arms and pouts, huffing an extremely audible sigh. Always a sore loser, that one.

But, well, it’s their final game of the week, and it’s only fitting that Granny Ethel’s win ends it. The host approves her BINGO and waves her along to the prize table, where she collects her new floral rug in her arms with an elated, toothy smile. It’s a bit much for her to carry, taller even than the white poofs of hair on her head, so Todd holds out his hands and she passes the bundle over to him with thanks.

“Oh, this will look just lovely in my bedroom!” she says brightly, hands clasped together as she shuffles along beside him. “Sam, dear, do you think we have time to redecorate before you give us all a macramé lesson?”

“Definitely! There’s always time to help you out, Granny.” Sam nods pleasantly as they approach his car, which beeps as he unlocks it with his key fob. “I don’t think I’ve seen your room before. It’s the one at the back of the house, right?” He pops the trunk and looks over his shoulder at the carpet in Todd’s hands, and nods again. “Yep; it’ll fit.”

“That’s right. I’m afraid it’s become a bit cluttered—I don’t even let Todd clean it on chore days.”

“No way—Granny, are you a hoarder?”

“Haven’t you seen her house?” Theodore grunts as Todd’s sharp elbow bumps into him, but all he does is roll his eyes in response and skulk to his usual place in the back seat of Sam’s old, half-painted, half-sanded sedan from a year Todd isn’t even sure he remembers. Not bothering to help.

Well, that’s typical Theodore.

Todd finagles the rolled-up carpet into the trunk space, making sure not to crumple or cram it, careful not to upset Sam’s menagerie of old sneakers, a lumpy gym bag, and pile of wadded-up shirts, and closes the trunk securely over it all, satisfied. Then he escorts Granny Ethel to the other side of the car and helps her climb into the back seat opposite her grandson.

He’d let her take shotgun, but there are only a few places he can rightly fit in the small car, and that just so happens to be the front passenger seat. It’s low enough that he only has to hunker down and bow his head and horns just so that they don’t scrape the top and not uncomfortably fold himself up like he would in the back.

Ah, if only Sam had a convertible.

Thankfully, the bingo hall isn’t too far from Granny Ethel’s house—nothing is, really, in this small town, where the edge is only a ten minute car ride in any direction, but when they travel in such a large group, and when Sam offers, some days it’s just easier to drive. Especially when the grey clouds hanging overhead droop and sag, heavy with rain ready to fall at any moment.

(Sometimes Granny Ethel’s bones ache on days like this, too—she never says it, but they all know.)

They hurry into the house, with bingo prize in hand, and Granny Ethel’s first stop is the kitchen, because everyone is parched and in need of a celebratory midday snack. She and Todd had mixed up a nice pitcher of peach tea the day before, and it’s just wonderful on ice, garnished even with tiny lemon slices on the glass rims. That morning, Sam brought iced donuts along, and half of the box still remains for snack time.  

Todd tucks the rolled-up rug safely into a corner and sits down to enjoy a chocolate-iced donut while Granny Ethel chatters on about which TV programs they’re set to watch today, and about how she’s always considered trying macramé but just never had the chance. Sam, though, is a pro, and has been practicing it since his mom taught him when he was young. Apparently he is a master at weaving hanging basket cradles for plants.

Theodore, sitting crammed between Todd and Sam’s broad shoulders (though one set broader than the other) broods in silence, barely touching even a single rainbow sprinkle on his pink-frosted donut. Barely touching his peach iced tea.

The small, round kitchen table has become quite cramped with their new population.

Moving through the halls is just as cramped, now, with two fully-grown men and a hulking demon trying to make their way through. It doesn’t help that the hallways are narrow, but at least the bedrooms are bigger and easier to navigate.

Granny Ethel’s room is the largest in the house. Quaint and cozy, with a full-sized bed set against the center of the far wall, between two curtained, arched windows.

And hanging above said bed, on said wall, is a sight Todd thought he’d seen the last of: the old, rusted scythe from the back yard.

Hung up like a trophy, or a prized possession even—only, it’s no longer rusted. It’s clean and polished, with its metal blade shining under the ceiling light, sharp and dangerous as a new cutlery knife. Totally out of place among the knitted and crocheted throw blankets and covered pillows and tapestries and embroideries dotted around the room. Completely out of place among the precious miniature porcelain trinkets crammed along the tops of dressers and shelves, and the decorative plates lining the highest shelves up near the ceiling.

It draws all of their attention except Granny Ethel’s, who doesn’t seem to mind, who overlooks it as another decoration among many.

“I think that rug will look just wonderful in the center of the room, don’t you think, dears?” She perches daintily on the edge of her bed, one hand on her lower back, and smiles at the space of carpet in front of her slippered feet. “The florals match the wallpaper!”

Todd meets Sam’s eyes for a moment, and the message passes through despite the communication barrier, though at times Todd thinks Sam has telepathy for how in-tune he is to most of his thoughts.

But now, the thought is plain as day. Theodore’s eyes, gleaming with that strange little light that mean he’s plotting, always plotting, linger on that scythe for an uncomfortable stretch of time, and though they’d both agreed to keep a close eye on the man, they decide to keep an even closer watch on him while in this room.

“They do match, Granny,” Sam agrees with a little smile, taking one end of the rolled-up rug to help Todd set it down on the floor. “That’s some theme you’ve got going on in here.”

“Charles picked out the florals. I wasn’t always so fond of them, you know. He brought so much color and beauty into my life, and now I can’t bear to get rid of it…” She toys with the fine, silver band around her left ring finger, eyes looking far, far away, seeing something other than the two men and one demon through her thick lenses.

It isn’t often she speaks of Charles, and they all, every one of them, know better than to bring up the subject. It’s an unspoken rule that only Granny Ethel is allowed to speak of him.

The little floral area rug fits perfectly on the floor, not covering too much, not covering too little. None of the edges hit the bed or the dresser, but they do curl up from being rolled for so long. Todd stamps his hooves on the ends to flatten them down—and it works better than steam roller.

Sam brushes his hands clean of imaginary dust, job well done, and claps. “Alright! How’s that look, Granny?”

“Oh, it’s perfect! Thank you so much for helping, dears. It’s such a lovely design I might just have to find a matching one for the sitting room. The one we have there now is looking a bit threadbare these days. But I digress. Today is a macramé day! Oh, I’ve never done that kind of craft before. What are we making?”

“I was thinking we could make hanging baskets for the lantanas. Y’know, before we transplant them back into the garden. I brought rope and beads and all kinds of stuff to make some cool hangers! Plenty of black for you, too, Todd.”

And so, they continue their day by learning macramé, courtesy of Sam and his unexpected talents.

It’s when night falls, when all are safely tucked away in bed (Sam included, because it’s the weekend, and weekends allow for sleepovers Granny Ethel is more than enthusiastic to host, because she’d missed having a full house), that Todd realizes Theodore had snuck away at some point during their weaving lessons—even just for a bathroom break, letting him out of their sight was a mistake.

Now, certainly, he’s snoozing away at the top of the bunk bed they share, and Sam is tucked away in the far corner of the room with a plushy sleeping bag, but all jolt awake when a thump and a startled cry ring out through the house.

Todd is the first to reach her room. He hesitates at the closed door, just for a split-second, if only to steel himself for what he might see (because that scythe did look stable, where it hung, but what if—what if someone did something to it and—?) before barreling through it with every ounce of bravery he possesses.

The scythe had fallen.

Its sharp tip lay embedded in the soft pillows where Granny Ethel’s head most certainly might have rested, once. Cut right through, as easy as a hot knife sinks through butter.

“Granny—!” Sam gasps out.

But Granny Ethel’s head is not there—and neither is her body. In fact, she’s standing safe and sound, with both hands pressed against her mouth, just beside the bed. Fully intact. Safe.

Safe.

“Oh,” she pauses, hands falling away from her face, but hovering in front of it, still, before falling to her heart. “I was certain I’d placed it up on that wall securely.” She blinks, eyes moving from the fallen scythe to the brackets on the wall—one of which had snapped off and lay useless on top of the soft and numerous blankets covering her bed—then to the three gathered at the door, two mostly concealed behind Todd’s large body.

Todd doesn’t waste a moment. His hand finds the back of Theodore’s neck, grips his shirt collar, and he propels him forward, into the room like a badly behaved animal made to stand before its mistake.

“I didn’t—” he starts to say, squirming like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck, feet barely touching the ground, but Todd won’t hear it. He drops him heavy to the floor and points at the scene, eyes livid, feeling a bubbling, frothing rage that heated him like the fire and brimstone of hell—for the first time in quite a while.

“I-I really didn’t do it!” Theodore hisses, shrinking in on himself as Todd’s hulking form blocks the exit, and Granny Ethel’s small form boxes him on from the other side. “I—”

She clears her throat before anything more could be said.

“Dears,” she says in her soft voice, and no matter how soft it is, it always catches their attention as clear as a blaring horn. She leaves it at that, for a moment, as they all three freeze and look to her, obedient, watching as she picks up the scythe by its handle and eases it out of the downy feathers and cotton, holding it between her fingers like it’s made of delicate glass.

“You never have to worry about me. You see, I am blessed with incredible luck. Please, go on back to bed. I’ll take care of this.” A small, serene smile crosses her face—as kind as any of the others, but hiding something underneath.

Something like a secret Todd knows he has to uncover before anything like this ever happens again.

[queensdivas]

Otters Part 1

I’ve been cooking this up for a little while and figured why not! Hope y’all enjoy because this has been really really cute to write so far. And this is part one out of..god knows how many. Enjoy!!!! 

P.s. If you wanna be added to the taglist hmu!!!!!! And if you got request also HMU!!!!

Masterlist

Part 1

Bevvie came walking out with her blanket and stuffed sea turtle as Joe put the last suitcase in front of the doorway while you were packing roadtrip snacks in the tote. Rubbing her eyes then noticing she had on two different pairs of shoes on with her shirt on inside out. 

“I’m all ready for grandmas.” Yawning in front of us and Joe fast walking to her and scooping her up in his arms. 

“I can see that Bevs. Why don’t we pick out something that’s gonna be way more comfortable and shoes that you can easily slip on and off.” She nodded as he carried her back into her bedroom as you figured it was time to dress Joey for the car ride. 

You turned the light on into a dim phase then walking over to Joey who was entangled with his blankets and t-rex stuffy was tucked into his chest. You brushed his hair back to leave a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“Joey. It’s time to wake up.” Whispering as he rubbed his eyes then pulling his blankets over his face. If it’s one thing Joey got him his dad besides his looks, it was definitely his personality because you had the same struggle of trying to wake Joe up for work. 

“If you don’t get up, no grandma and you know how much grandma loves to make you those cheesy potatoes.” Bribing him as his head shot up and practically leaping out of bed. Running to his closet then trying to find his clothes. 

“Sweety here. You can wear your overalls and blue striped shirt since we’re going to be in the car for a few hours. Now get over here so I can help you get ready.” You grabbed his overalls from the floor as he put himself in them, then grabbing his striped shirt and helping him with the sleeves. His head popped through the top of his shirt and your finger booping his nose. 

Joey grabbed his stuffed dinosaur from his bed to then walk out of his room with you following behind him. Joe had Bevvie ready to go with our suitcase in one hand and her passed out on his shoulder. 

“We ready?” You asked as Joey grabbed his tiny suitcase that was sitting by the door as you grabbed the snacks off the table. 

“I think so. Let’s get this show on the road everyone!” Joe sung as he opened the apartment door with Joey following behind them as I turned off the light of the apartment. Double checking to make sure you had your car keys in your pocket as you looked at your apartment door. You put the snack bag on top of suitcase to take from Joe since he was holding knocked out Bevvie in his arms. 

Clipping down Joey into her car seat while playing with his dinosaur as Joe clipped the seat belt for Bevvie who had a tight grip on her stuffed animal. Thanksgiving was in two days and you had a very long ride to Charleston Sout Carolina since Joe's mom is out in California with her hippie community. So going to your family's house in Charleston was a better option for the kids at least. If you didn’t have those two little rascals you maybe would’ve gone out to her and partied hard on Thanksgiving. 

Closing the car door on my side then climbing into the passenger side of the S.U.V. since Joe is planning on taking the first two or three hours of the trip. Joe climbed into the drivers side then we both looked back into the car to see our two little joys were knocked out cold. Grabbing each other hand then leaning into a light kiss. 

Connecting your phone to the bluetooth of the car so you could softly play Chopin the background so it could keep the kids asleep. It was Chopin, Debussy or even Hess that would keep your kids nice and knocked out for a few hours. Which was quite lovely for car rides such as this since you had to wait in traffic since living in Manhattan was as the world knows. Horrible with traffic. 

He pulled out of the parking garage onto traffic swiftly so we could get ahead start of that awful traffic. Pulling out your tablet and pen to start doodling on your current art project for you're next art show. You happened to met Joe a few years back as a street artist and were living outside of Brooklyn with a tiny apartment and three of people living in that apartment. Who you still remain in contact with since sharing an apartment with three other people make you very close. 

Shaking it off, and beating the devil out of it! Bob Ross’ words couldn’t be more true when it came to painting. Picking up your thing liner brush to then dab it into the light green paint to begin tracing the leafs. Putting the handle part of the brush into your mouth so you could look back at the weeping willows that was flowing in the wind for you. 

The next song on your speaker began playing which was Sweet Lord by George Harrison allowed a different kind of vibe in your little space so that you could be more light with your strokes with the paint. Humming the song softly to yourself as you dip your brush into the paint again then following your trace gently. 

“I really wanna see ya” 

“I really wanna be with ya” 

“I really wanna see ya lord” 

“But it takes so long my lord” 

You began to sing to yourself to reach down to grab the wet towel from the tiny bucket of water you had next to you. You’ve been wanting to paint this tree for weeks now, and it now being the right cooler and right weather outside. You weren’t going to miss this opportunity. 

Joe took a walk around central park every time when he gets a new role so he could sort of take a walk with his character. If that makes any sort of sense to a regular person. Usually this is the time for him to get ready so that he nailed each role that is given to him. 

Walking over the bridge to see everyone playing in the grass then his eyes halting right in your general direction. It caught him off guard for a moment as he watched your strokes and a soft smile you gave to yourself. He couldn’t help but wonder what you were painting then wanting to get a closer look at it. Without seeming way too stalkerish. 

He got closer then turning to walk behind so he could act like he was getting caught off guard by your work. Leaning in to see how detailed one of the leafs were, down to the point you could see the morning dew on the leaf.

“Holy shit!” Blurting out to her as she stopped her music to turn her head so she could get a better look of who was behind him. That damn smile was enticing him already and he hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask her name. 

“I”m sorry. I was walking by to cut across and your work..holy shit. It’s gorgeous, breathtaking, I’m running out of words here.” Joe laughed to himself as she gave him little nods then taking a step back so she could see from his angle. 

“You’re fine. Thank you and it’s definitely a work in progress and I only have so much daylight before another day like this comes.” She chuckled with tilting her head so that she could see the morning dew on the leaf. 

“Joe.” He held out his hand to her then she shook but took back when she realized that her hands were covered in paint. 

“I’m so sorry! Oh my god I’m so so sorry!” She began to panic then grabbing the wet cloth so he could wash his hands. 

“Dah you’re fine. Shouldn’t have tried to shake hands with an artist in the middle of their work. Silly me. Say um..where do you sell your art at so once this is done I can buy it from ya.” Joe tucked his hands into his front pockets as her smile grew a little more. 

“A tiny shop in Brooklyn called The Undergo. Not to far from 36 Avenue if that helps in any sort of way.” Grabbing a card from her book bag to then hand him one of the cards. (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) was being read by Joe over and over again. 

“Well (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). Can’t wait to come by once that’s up and ready for sale. I’m Joe by the way. And I’ll see ya around.” 

“See ya around Joe.” 

“Should I go with the pine green or the more army green?” You asked quickly showing Joe your doodle as you were stuck on the bridge. Squinting his eyes at your doodle then giving you a slow nod. 

“I’ve got absolutely no idea. Go with the pine green.” You playfully smacked his arm then began working on the doodle. 

“Mommy..how much longer?” Turning your head to see Joey rubbing his eyes a little bit as you gave him a soft smile. 

“Sweety we just got on the road. I promise once we’re out of the city were gonna stop at your favorite breakfast place!” 

“The one with the smiley pancakes?” He asked while you gave him a small nod. He was about to say something but fell back asleep. Then looking over to check on Bevvie who was still sleeping soundly. 

“Do you think your mom would want to watch the kids one week for our anniversary?” He blurted out as you went back to work on your doodle. 

“I don’t see why not. That’s coming up isn’t it.” If it’s one thing you were great at, it was constantly forgetting important dates. The time you had your first date with Joe, your own wedding rehearsal, and almost all of your wedding itself. You had to write on your hand, put a string on your finger, and even placed sticky notes all over for your meeting with the small shop owner. 

You deleted the picture you were working on when a new idea popped into your head. You’ve yet to do something with your family. If you remember correctly, Mother otters tend to hold their babies on their chest when they’re sleeping. Not to mention they link arms in their sleep so they don’t end up drifting away from each other when they’re sleeping. It was perfect. 

“Your lucky I love you because you forget almost every single important date in your history. Except for the kids!” Joe laughed and you did because it was the truth. When it came to Joey and Bevvie. It was an instant click and you remembered the times and dates for everything. It wasn’t on purpose because you always tried your best. Just happened to be a little forgetful with dates. 

_____

Taglist: 

@mexifangorl @i-live-for-queen @leah-halliwell92 @rawyld

[ocevala]

Misunderstood || a Cayde/Ikora Angst

First off, before we start this, why don't ya vote it up on Wattpad first? https://my.w.tt/iO9GrLri80

(Words: Approximately 3,000)

Psst-- you can skip the summary if you need to ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Summary: The Hunter misunderstood many things in his life, he misunderstood the intentions of the vanguard's tactics and values, the way he would be the most eager to leave this hell, but instead they'd send the Titan who would much rather guard his lion den. Most times his partners were astray from him, Zavala talked too much about his Titans, but was pretty average.

But then there was Ikora, her eyes were cold and deadbeat, like a deep lavender color with a grey undertone, they used to be alive, but they were aged. She was cold to him now it's like her quick glances were glares that punctured his confidence, and even the littlest noises she'd make at his failures would kill him on the inside. It was as if she had this power that crumbled people's spirits.

In her defense, she never knew she was this cold, she was merely being was she was told to be. A strong poised warlock, who needed to keep her eyes on her sworn duty. But in other's eyes she was just another scary leader, the mentor people whispered about behind her back. Then at the same time, she knew about this, and she shamed herself for it, compared herself to a monster. She couldn't stand herself for of it. She knew she wasn't taught all too well, especially when it all came from a Warlock with an ego.

This is just a single one shot about two Vanguards, two Stories, but the same problems.

———

About a decade ago, he was made hunter vanguard, but even today, he never knew his purpose, he couldn't take anything along the lines of work seriously, no missions were matched for him, and he watched as his partners, Zavala and Ikora shred through hundreds of thousands of monsters.

While he was merely on the outside. He hated being trapped in here, he wished that once in a while he could join, but the request was ignored.

He was degraded and selfish, he knew Zavala thought so. But Ikora definitely did.

He knew because of the way Ikora would glare at him, and tear him down with a gaze that was truly cold. By emotionally manipulating him with her scoffs at his every foolish movement, and imprisoning him with her utter silence. The only times she'd actually spoken to him it was on dispatch details, and boring vanguard discussions.

He was merely a waste of space and time in their eyes.

No. Half of that wasn't true.

Infact it was one-sided love, Ikora was quite fond of him.

Ikora was a close inspector, so she couldn't help but pay attention to Cayde's subtle expressions, it was like a sixth sense that allowed her to read his body language like a book, the way his feet consistentantly tapped on the ground, and the way his fingers pulsed around his knife, aching to leave this damned place.

Ikora, she adored him, truly adored him, through the glares and the stoic expressions, and the parts of her that would look and scoff, there was another part of her that wanted to smile and laugh with him, she was a lovesick warlock who wrestled with the lovelorn hunter.

She never knew how to communicate her true feelings after Osiris changed her, turned her into a warlock with the mentality of steel, but that rubbed off on her. She was locked up and stuck with lips that never twitched from it's perfect straight line, and eyes so cold, they gave victims of her stare self consciousness. Her dull amethyst eyes were emotionless, and she'd never known. Often, she stood there in confusion, as her eyes would trail to a group of guardians, only for them to meet her eyes, and immediately part ways.

They were scared of being scolded. They'd never get scolded. Not for speaking and discussing mission details.

The kids would laugh and play, one kid will kick the ball too far, and it'd roll over and hit the balls of her feet. She listens as from behind her, a child would muster an, "Excuse me ma'am..." The warlock vanguard turns around, and picks the ball up, making her way over to the children. She would try to give a smile, bit her lips only twitched slightly, and she didn't smile, so she watched in a stoic manner as the children would stare into her nulled mulberry eyes, frozen in fear as they snatch the ball and run the other way.

At home, she sat and thought about it in her comfortable little arm chair, her elbows propped on the sides, and her fingers grazing her chin in thought. It wasn't long before she cracked, and a whimper sounded from the silent room, her lips quivered and tears danced it's way down her cheek, when she first shed a tear, it was in melancholy, because it was the day she realized even the children feared her eyes. She sobbed at that thought, infact she sobbed so hard she gasped for air. She was embarrassed of herself, she cried like a little girl who'd been hit, or one who saw the warlock vanguard; a monster. And she was a monster.

The aftermath of her sobfest, was her laid half conscious on the floor, drawing deep breaths. Tired and exhausted from the tears that non-stop dribbled down her face.

But after a brief moment of bathing in her thoughts, she smiled, then chuckled, chuckled dryly until her puffy eyes were allowing more tears to drop from her cheeks.

It's so funny.

It's funny that on that day, she realized there was still a heart lurking in there somewhere, only because she cried, she was vulnerable, a weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

~~~

Cayde was sorting out little maps, holding his head in frustration, clenching his teeth and scribbling wildly on the digital maps displayed on tablets, piled high on the desk where certain loot caches hid.

"Cayde." He heard a deep and smooth voice call his name, as she trailed herself around the little long table, he jumped, and looked up to face the speaker, there stood Ikora, who called his name without looking.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked mono-toned, and her eyes trail up to his face. There was that look in her eyes again, that look that would kill, and it was not a compliment, they killed his spirits.

"Oh, it's nothin'. Just not feeling too well today, y'know?" He simply states, and watches as her brows twitch, and she nods before she's consumed by her books once again.

Ten years he'd stayed cooped up in the tower like this, and Ikora never changed, he remembered when she was younger, more honest and true to her words, her pure anger that seemed to be less intimidating than now day's calm and conserved personality to him was quite ridiculous, hell, he remembered he even crushed hard on her.

But, Those days were over and done with.

And he missed it. He thought that sooner or later, that stoic attitude would change. That she would become more comfortable and her demeanour would change. It never did. He hated it. Just as much as he now hated her.

Quickly, he realized the thought that scavenged in his head, he didn't know what was up with him as soon as he'd thought that. He frowned to himself, and traced a gaze up to her face. Hate? Hate was a strong word. "Is there something on my face?" She spoke, eyes still fixed on her book, It took no longer than a second for the Warlock to notice his eyes locked on her face.

"No."

"Then, please, stop staring." A sigh left his lips, and he pulled away from the table.

"I'm going to go take a breather." He sighs, before leaving the little hall, when he got out of the little disclosed place, he made his way to the speakers study, where a little vent to his favorite place lied.

The hunter crawled through piles of faction crates, shaders, silver, and books before he was greeted by the little slitted vents. Quietly, he removes it from the front of the little crawl space supposedly on the other side, and propped himself on his elbows and knees.

As the vanguard slithered his body through the gap that barely provided room, his eyes scanned over the many empty custodial rooms, that, soon he began to pass by, most of them not being his private spaces.

Finally, he looked down to greet the warm coffee colored room he was most accustomed with, a purple carpet he rolled out himself, a couch, which already existed before he found the room alongside the desk filled with ramen crates, and little ace cards.

He swiftly plucked the broken screws off one by one, before shoving the vent off, his face scrunched up as the vent so loudly hit the hardwood floor that hadn't been covered by the carpet. He guaranteed he'd be caught at some point, but for now, he was safe.

His eyes scanned the room proudly, eyes glazing over the rest of the furniture and decor in the room, maps were pinned up by tacks, prototypes for his class gear laid scattered for modification, his delicate dishes and relics placed inside the conveniently sized sink, he fished his pot from the water, in which he'd already washed, and filled it with water.

Calmly, he moved to place his little pot of water on the makeshift stove top to boil up instant noodles. And then plopped himself onto the couch.

He sat in silence, in that moment took the time to ponder, ponder about the life he didn't so happily live.

"Hm." A noise came from the darker corner of the room, a hum of examination. God dammit! could he ever get some peace?

He whipped his heard around, raising an eyebrow, and the person he wanted to escape from happened to be there. "What are you doing here? Shoo!" He waved her away, but neither did the Warlock's expression or body falter.

Cayde stood up, and Ikora stepped forward. Taking this as a chance to speak to him privately, "You've been off lately. And I've taken a notice that it seems you loathe me. Could we take some time and discuss it?" Ikora calmly asks.

"Okay, I have a reason, so you better listen, and real closely as well. Honestly, there's something wrong with you, and Zavala, or the vanguard as a whole, it feels like the damned system is corrupted. You look at me like I don't belong here. As if I'm lower than you, then there's Zavala who quietly suspects me for half of the things I do. Also have you understood how long I've been wanting to leave this tower? They let the both of you leave, but not me?" He spat, watching as she recoiled at the sudden bitterness in his tone.

What? No. None of that was true, she'd never think of him that way, he was helpful, a kind old soul, with exceptional humor. Zavala thought so as well, the vanguard wasn't a corrupt system, the tower was only afraid of losing their next hunter vanguard so early.

"I think you've misunder-"

"You think I misunderstood? How the hell are you going to explain the glares, it feels like they throw me into my place, a low class hunter," He scoffs, "Gosh, I wish a was a low class hunter, so I could get the hell out of this joint. Then there's the murmuring sounds of disappointment and your dissatisfaction, even if I just make the littlest mistake, your eyes are following me. Swearing at me. Then there's Zavala asking me all of these questions, and boring his eyes into the little horn in the center of my head."

"And you think I've misunderstood?" Cayde finishes off, before muttering under his breath "Asshole." That broke her, again, she didn't know why, but all of her bottled up emotions, hidden by a hallowed facade poured out.

She slid down to her knees, at first her fingers curled around the arm of his sofa, covering her eyes and rubbing away the little tears that threatened to roll down.

That's when Cayde began to inch for the door, but he stopped when he heard a hic. His head turned slightly, and he watched as the warlock slowly crumbled. Eventually her hiccups turned into cries, which faded into sobs, obnoxious sobs until she couldn't breathe, until they were low throaty ones, and she hadn't realized.

At first he thought he made her cry, and slowly, he felt guilt climbing up his back.

But then he remembered that the Warlock Vanguard was never this weak.

He watched with a frown as her shoulders sank, and her body folded, until she was fully pressed to the floor, and the rest of what she could breathe out were hacks up to the point she gasped for more air. She felt like an idiot, this was probably the most vulnerable anyone had seen her, by a long shot.

She watched as Cayde's head turned to her, staring, awkward and stiff, before it whirled back around, slowly. Then he left the room in a hesitant manner.

He felt weird, not being able to withstand the sudden burst of tears. So he removed himself. He left through the door that was unlocked through the inside.

Cayde stumbled out of the door and closed it, expecting for her sobs to be purged by the closed doors, but it wasn't, he cringed at Ikora's loud cries out that echoed through the dead hallway, like a horror movie, he watched as rats scurried about the hall under the dim spotlights, as cob webs decorated the walls in a disgusting way.

What ever was the matter with her, he wanted her to feel his pain. Being left alone to sob and so she could attempt to untangle herself.

He knew Ikora couldn't keep her composure, she probably never experienced real emotion like this. But that thought cleared when her gasps for air died down, he turned to the door down the hall in confusion, he paused. Nothing. That gave him goosebumps.

He never knew that the both of them dealt with the same issues from the start. Misunderstood, judged, feared. When he was greeted by the familiar lights of the Speaker's study or grand door that lied before the Speaker's study, he pushed open the large doors to finally enter the right wing of the tower, that's when he took a left and climbed up the stairs, trailing past the little patches of grass on the floor near the landing zone, his feet trailed down the steps, and stopped just before the grand table.

He noticed the way Zavala's eyes trailed up to him, his look displaying confusion. "Where is Ikora?" He questioned raising an catapillar size eyebrow.

He left it off with a shrug, before approaching the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Zavala eyed him.

Zavala eyed him the whole time he leaned over, resting his elbows on the table to finally finish each coordinate.

And as he carefully marked up the papers, for what'd almost been thirty minutes. "Cayde, are you sure you don't know where she is...?" Zavala finally said with high suspicions, after staring at him, and mentally interrogating him.

Cayde drew a sigh, his pencil darting across the papers, one side, to the other. Finally, dropping the pencil, he looked up. "I might know." He spoke those three words only, before turning around, and leaving the hallway, Zavala's mouth opened, as if he were about to say something, but he stayed quiet, assuming that was just Cayde saying he'd check.

Cayde, finally ascended the stairs, inhaling the fresh air. And made his way to the location he only left 30 minutes ago.

Ikora propped herself on the chair, covering her face, rubbing her puffy eyes, she inhaled the bitter smell of smoke that blanketed the air, the water in his pot completely boiled dry and evaporated, and the pot was on the verge of being damaged.

The stench was giving her a headache, but she sat idle, eyes shielded, and her lips quivering. She needed the moment of silence, but that ended when she heard the clattering in the vents, she removed her arms from her face, lips straightening, and her eyes absent of tears.

It was as if she wasn't sulking the 2 seconds before she'd transitioned. There was a thump on the ground, and she felt a pair of eyes on her through the foggy smoke.

She sat quietly and idle, "Ikora." A familiar robotic voice called. He couldn't help but cough, as he grabbed the pot and placed it outside the little door, his systems rendering to filter the air.

"Ikora... There's something wrong with me and-"

"There is something wrong with me as well." She carefully spoke, her silhouette was carefully carved through the fog of the smoke that remained as she kept her composure. "Everything before Osiris, were lighter times. Now, I wouldn't like to speak badly of him, but he made me feel I was flawed."

She bit her lip, remembering the time that Osiris told her everything, she was cursed with his knowledge, she was told to stand up straight and never falter, to know her place, and use her mind. On top of that, never smile.

So she did follow, precariously infact; uncertain of how to do so. And she became a mess. She earned respect only because they feared her power.

But when Osiris had done the same, there were ecstatic followers behind him.

"I changed for my own good. But now that I wish to change back, I can't. I'm stuck, I truly couldn't smile without crying first." She continued, and he stared into her dead eyes, that was still cloaked by the smoke, and bloodshot red from the chemicals that bounced along the walls, but her irises were a deep forest of violet, with an undertone of grey.

His eyes rendered and adjusted, noticing how they were coated with tears. "Listen, I lugged through these halls with the mindset that everyone hated me. But mostly you." He sighed, hands holding his face in his hands.

"I thought the feeling was mutual. Well, given the fact your eyes never ceased to change." Then he finally looked at her, eyeing her quivering lips, "But the point is, I'm not okay."

Her arms rose to curl her fingers around his wrist. "I'm not okay either." She whispered, her hand was positioned so that her thumb stroked the palm of his hands, gloved with rough material.

She leans her head on his shoulder, noticing the way his shoulders more prominently rise and fall at their contact.

"Ikora..?" Cayde calls to her, her head rises from his shoulder. A gentle hum in acknowledgement slices the air as her head turns to him. "Forgive me for this..." He speaks low, and suddenly her lips are pressed against his plates, and her body is pushed up against his chest.

It was a kiss to reassure her, his eyes were wide open, as were hers, before she discovered the way his hands traced circles on her back, and both their eyes shut, she tasted the salt on her lips, and she then noticed her eyes were leaking with tears.

The fog that coated the air added much more tension. Soon, Ikora paid attention to how his body began to dominate hers, his unoccupied fingers tracing up to her thighs and massaging them, so she believed it was best to pull away, so they wouldn't be carried away, but even after that, she was unable to bring herself to look him in the eyes.

She clears her throat, fists braced on the couch to push herself from under him, her posture straightens, "Thank you for talking to you about this." She carefully speaks, Cayde nodded before saying,

"Y'know, I misunderstood this...."

"No you didn-"

"Yes I did. All of it. Your intentions, Zavala's intentions, I was so caught on the theory that the both of you were trying to isolate me.." Cayde spoke softly, "But it was the other way around."

"So you weren't speaking on the kissing?" Ikora asks slowly. Cayde quickly shakes his head.

"Unless I did... Misunderstand..." His voice trails off.

"No... No you didn't."

[plcyersandpieces]

After the Fall Tidbits, Chp. 2

And I return! Time for more interesting things from RWBY: After the Fall. Looks like this time around, it's a flashback. While again, I'll avoid major spoilers, if you don't want to read, just block "after the fall liveblog". Here we go!

[[MORE]]

Like I mentioned, this is a flashback. Beacon Tower is the silhouette this time around. Looks like this is how CFVY got together.

Ozpin didn't change a thing about initiation except what "relics" he used. Goddammit man.

Coco was born and raised in Vale. Figured as much, but good to have the confirmation!

Pharos combat school--Signal's sibling school is my guess. There may be others. That's awesome to know!

There's the line!! "Coco had been popular at their school, breaking performance records--and breaking girls' hearts." (Emphasis mine. See also: "And to top it off, [Glynda] was hot, with impeccable fashion sense.")

Many Mistrali are openly racist apparently. We had hints of that in V5 (the bar's sign of "NO FAUNUS" for instance), but it's better illustrated here. "...and, of course, her tormentors were from Mistral." "...but [Yatsuhashi's] people didn't like Faunus and didn't mind letting them know how they felt."

Poor Velvet has been tormented all her life and doesn't like the Mistrali any more than they liked her. Also, apparently she's never had any close friends until CFVY and "... everyone managed to disappoint her sooner or later." VELVET BABY COME HERE AND LEMME GIVE YOU A HUG.

Yatsuhashi is a gentle giant. Bullied for being so big, he grew up self-conscious about his size and strength. He also doesn't like to leave things to chance, and specifically chose his partner. He also apologized to a tree he split in half. His sword is named Fulcrum.

Fox is an orphan but was raised communally by the Kenyte. Thought Vale would be better, and his life in Vacuo provided the necessary skills to be a huntsman. Also, his semblance is basically Mercedes Lackey-style Mind-Speech in general--aside from telepathy, it also lets him sense people's minds/presences. The closer to someone he is emotionally, the better he can pinpoint their location, but there have been very few with whom he can or could do that. Also, he's such a little pissant and I fucking adore him.

Vacuo is the one place in Remnant where the wildlife is considered more dangerous than the Grimm. Which is surprising, because Menagerie exists, which Blake says is worse than Vacuo... but maybe the desert there is just too dead even for life and only Grimm are found there.

There's a scroll version of Alexa/Siri/Google Assistant. Her name is Ada--the Accessibility Dialog Agent. Fox accesses it from an earbud. Neat!

Coco smells like chocolate and caramel according to Fox, and I like that.

Coco's gun is named Gianduja, and her semblance is Hype. She can amplify the effects of Dust--for instance, in landing in the Emerald Forest, she used Hype on her gravity dust bullets to hover in zero gravity for a moment before floating down.

Character name drop: Iris Marilla, CFVY classmate, with flowers in her hair and an annoyingly high-pitched voice.

"Besides, Coco wasn't looking for a girlfriend, she was looking for someone who wouldn't hold her back or get her killed on the field. Someone who could keep up." SCREEEEEEEEECH. AS IF WE NEEDED ANOTHER HINT.

Another name-drop: Vega Bleu. Fights with a pair of arm-mounted grappling hooks. Former Pharos classmate, gone on to Atlas.

Fox and Coco, and Velvet and Yatsuhashi. Both first meetings were fantastic, but Velv and Yatsu's was so fucking adorable.

"So it's a Death Stalker den. Only an idiot would go in there," Fox said. I make no further comment.

Oz used playing cards for CFVY's initiation year. Rather, tablets carved to look like them. CFVY took the suit of hearts.

[kristallioness]

A get-well card

Summary: Lance goes to see Allura for the first time after their battle to save Earth.

Word count: 1,972

Author's note: This story began writing itself in my head when I imagined these scenes happening. Based on these three posts (X,X,X) because those shots of them recovering in their wards warmed my heart. There's also a tiny reference to my only other VLD-related fanfic, "The cold". I had to get this off my chest because I treasure everything these two characters have (be it romantic/platonic love, respect, admiration..). I just really love Allura and Lance so much! Whether they end up together or not, I'm still weak for this (friend)ship, do you hear me? W E A K.

----------x----------

"Do you think she'll like it?" the little girl wondered, holding out the folded piece of paper. She let her tall aunt carefully lift her into her uncle's lap.

"I'm sure she'll love it," Lance said with a loving smile, wrapping his protective arms around his niece. He rubbed his nose into her hair and gave her a kiss on her temple, making her giggle.

"Are we ready to go?" he turned to his big sister, who grabbed the handles of his wheelchair.

"Yes, I think so."

Veronica pushed Lance, together with their little niece, out of his ward and into the long corridor. Their nephew hopped alongside the trio as they slowly made their way to Allura's private ward. The kids had drawn the princess a get-well card and they wanted to present it to her together with their uncle, who knew her a lot better.

Lance's tiny blue eyes grew wide when he could spot two familiar figures standing outside of the ward at the other end of the corridor. They met both Coran, who was twirling his moustache around his finger, and Romelle, sitting on one of the chairs, waiting in silence. Thankfully their expressions weren't full of concern, much rather boredom.

"Hey, Coran! Is everything okay?"

"Oh, good day, Lance! Yes, everything's perfectly alright with the princess. She just fell asleep earlier, so we came out here to give her some peace and quiet. One of the medical workers went in there to check on her progress. I also asked him to reconfigure the machines to consider the normal vital signs of an Altean."

Lance frowned a little bit, staring at the card in his niece's hands.

"Oh.. Can we go in right now? My niece and nephew made something they wanna give to her. Show uncle Coran what you made!" he leaned closer and whispered into her ear. The little girl held the card out to the orange moustache guy. Coran knelt down on one knee to have a closer look.

"Hmm.. and who is this supposed to be?" he wondered curiously, pointing a finger at the round stick figure.

"That's uncle Lance! He's the bravest Blue Paladin out there," the girl declared proudly, making her uncle chuckle for a moment.

"Actually, your uncle Lance is the Red Paladin now. The princess is the new Blue Paladin," Coran corrected her.

"They saw my blue armour, Coran, so they wanted to use the blue crayon. Show him what's inside!" Lance added in a whisper. His niece opened the card and let Coran read the text. When he claimed that he didn't understand the letters they'd used, she read it out loud. His purple eyes began to glisten and they could tell that he was wearing a warm smile underneath that moustache.

"Well, if that isn't sweet.. Okay, you four can go in. Just be sure to keep really quiet. The princess needs her rest."

"Thanks, Coran! We promise.. C'mon, you two! You heard what uncle Coran said!" Lance said in a hushed tone, patting his nephew's back as Veronica pushed his wheelchair closer to the door.

The door opened automatically and the quartet entered quietly. A doctor was busy reconfiguring the monitors, exactly like Coran had said. Lance's nephew scampered to the other side of the bed and grabbed the side rail, staring at the sleeping princess.

"She's so pretty!" he whispered to the rest of his family. Lance noticed how the mice squeaked a little and hopped up on the empty table that served as a nursing trolley, where medical supplies were usually scattered. They were keeping an eye on Allura so that nobody would hurt her.

Veronica pushed the wheelchair to the same side of the bed, then stooped to whisper into her little brother's ear.

"I'll be right outside if you need me. Call me when you're ready to go back to your ward."

"Will do, sis!" Lance answered in a hush, then averted his gaze towards the princess, a warm smile decorating his lips.

"I'll leave you to it, lover boy!"

He gritted his teeth and glared at her for a moment. She stifled her giggling by holding a hand in front of her mouth as she exited the ward.

Lance forgot about his big sister's teasing and focused on the doctor who was examining Allura instead. He ran a scanner over her forehead to take her temperature. He wrote the reading onto the tablet in his hands, which had replaced the old clipboards decades ago. Lance saw how the information immediately appeared on screen on the wall above her bed, right beside her other vital signs.

Next, the doctor softly pressed a modern stethoscope on her bare chest to listen to her heartbeat, reaching up a hand to reconfigure the settings of the machine so it'd consider her thrice as fast rate normal. Lance grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, feeling her "normal" pulse near her wrist thumping against his fingertips. Three beats in a tick, he remembered Pidge telling him once. Despite the rapid pace her heart was beating in, her breathing was calm like a human being's. She seemed so tranquil when she was asleep.

Soon the doctor finished the examination and left them alone with the princess, updating her advisor and fellow Altean about her progress on his way out. At least that's what Lance guessed they were talking about, judging by the voices he heard outside of the ward.

"Is she your girlfriend?" his niece asked. He blushed a little and scratched the back of his head. Even he wasn't sure at this point.

"Well, she is a girl and she's also my friend.."

"Is she gonna be okay?" his niece asked again.

"Of course she is, just like the rest of us.. Oh, shh!" Lance hushed his niece and nephew when he heard the princess mumble. He saw how she wiggled her pointy ears, as if she was trying to listen to the noises around her, and then, her sparkling blue eyes trembled open. A small smile formed on her lips when she met the eyes of the familiar figure.

"Lance.. you're here," she murmured, her voice still a bit hoarse. She felt how his thumb tenderly caressed her fingers. Her pretty blue eyes grew wider and she smiled fondly when she noticed the two little ones by his side.

"And you brought your family."

"Uncle Lance told us so much about you. Here, we made you this!" his nephew said, grabbing the card from his baby sister and handing it to the princess. Allura released Lance's hand and took the card in her own, propping herself up a bit higher. First she checked out the cute sketch on the cover, glancing at Lance when she figured out that it was him, and then opened the card to read it. She grimaced a little bit.

"I'm so sorry, but it seems that I can't read these words. I simply haven't had enough time learn the Earth language. Would you be a dear and read this to me?" Allura asked and handed the card back to Lance's niece, who did as she requested.

"Feel better soon, Allura!" the little girl read the biggest sentence out loud. Then her eyes trailed over the list of names in the lower right corner, who were wishing her a speedy recovery.

Lance's name was in red and the first one, followed by the authors of the card, namely his niece and nephew, as well as the rest of his family. The Paladins' signatures were right below theirs. The little girl showed that they'd written their names using crayons that represented their respective colours - dark purple for both Shiro and Keith, golden yellow for Hunk, forest green for Pidge. She'd written the princess's name in pink, according to her armour.

Allura didn't know what to say. She simply gazed at Lance and his siblings and grinned at the three of them.

"This is really sweet of you all. Thank you!"

She reached out her hand to pat his nephew's head. She called the mice on her bed and let them place the card on the empty table. The kids hadn't noticed the tiny critters before.

"Aww, what cute little mice!" the girl squealed and held out a hand to touch them, but she couldn't reach them. Lance helped his niece out by nudging his wheelchair closer and laying his own hand on the table so Chuchule can climb on.

"Yes, they're Altean mice. We have a special bond that allows me to communicate with them," Allura clarified, watching how Lance's niece softly petted the pink mouse.

"Cool! How does it work?" his nephew wondered. The princess merely giggled, then closed her eyes and thought of something to do. Plachu and Chulatt jumped onto the bed, climbed on her left shoulder and began braiding a thick lock of her long white hair. The boy's mouth fell wide open.

"Wow! How'd you do that?"

Allura opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I telepathically asked them to come and braid my hair."

"It means that she thought of what she'd like the mice to do, and since they could hear her thoughts, they started doing exactly what she asked them to do," Lance explained using simpler words. The kids were in awe. His nephew watched how the two blue mice continued styling the princess's hair whilst his niece tickled the pink mouse's tummy, making it squeak with joy. The sensation that carried over to Allura thanks to her mental link with Chuchule made her giggle, too.

"I didn't get to ask before, but.. How are you feeling?"

Lance furrowed his brows, a smile remaining on his lips as he slid his hand on top of Allura's and gave it another squeeze. She looked at it whilst lacing their fingers together.

"A bit tired, but otherwise I feel good. Blue really saved me from the worst."

"Of course she did. Just like Red saved me.."

There was a moment of silence before Lance spoke again.

"I was afraid that this was going to be her.. err, your.. our last battle together. But Shiro was right. The Lions really are stronger than we thought. Thanks for taking such good care of her."

"Anything for you, Lance."

Allura's smile turned upside down when she saw Lance looking at the door like he wanted to leave already. She held onto their entwined hands as she sat upright to stop him from calling Veronica.

"Wait! Come here.."

He looked at her questioningly, but pushed his wheelchair a bit closer to her bed. She leaned forward, her eyes half-lidded, hesitating for a second before she cupped his chin with her free hand and pressed a tender kiss on his cheek. When Allura pulled away to lie back down in bed, they were both blushing.

"Thank you, for inspiring all of us to continue fighting. When I saw you charge Red at one of the six Zaiforge Cannons after the reflectors broke, I knew Blue and I had to follow your lead and do the same to save your home planet."

Lance rubbed at his flushed cheek and grinned.

"Uhh, thanks, Allura!"

"So she is your girlfriend!" his nephew exclaimed happily, bouncing around the hospital bed whilst his niece began giggling.

Lance averted his gaze to the floor and attempted to hide his embarrassment. He lightened up when Chuchule started squeaking as she ran out of his niece's hand and onto his palm. He lifted the pink mouse to his face and let her rub her soft furry cheek against his own, making him laugh in return. He gazed into Allura's sparkling blue eyes and returned her smile when she grabbed his free hand and gave it a squeeze.

[rydain]

Author's Notes from a Modern Brutale

The Sexy Brutale is a melange of early 20th century opulence, cultural references from the classic to the contemporary and memetic, and technology both common and cutting edge. The nature of the game leaves room to interpret which of the above are indicative of time frame versus anachronistic appeal, game mechanics, or outright fantasy.

When thinking to write my take on a back story, I latched onto a sense of Fuzzy Modern Era because of the abovementioned tech and Reasons. I wanted to imagine Trinity living independently, Redd out and happy with Greyson, Tequila likewise with Willow, and big brother Clay infinitely more bothered by Greyson's former profession than his gender - and Lafcadio officiating a lovely garden wedding for any couple desiring one. I also wanted to imagine that nobody is being murdered by delightfully cruel staff, but that's as spoilertastic as this article will get. Which is to say it won't, as it's also general commentary on how I combine throwback glamour with a present day setting. 

A manor and casino like the Brutale, run by a magnificent bastard like Lucas, is defined by timeless charm and social and artistic activity. Lush vintage decor. Live music, theater, acts of magical escapism. Gambling with personable and entertaining croupiers. Rare books, art, artifacts, recordings. Fine craftsmanship in traditions worth preserving - the more obscure, the better. Throwing lavish parties to surprise and delight friends and associates and assorted miscreants, and to throw them all together to see what sort of shenanigans ensue. All of the above can be developed within some arbitrary era implied by the style of prose and dialogue and any referenced social norms.

Cultural and media references are chosen to bring fresh variety into the sense of enduring glamour. I name drop or pointedly hint at what has stood the test of time in terms of interest or amusement or importance, and I don't try to guess at what will. Rather, I give an impression of recent works that either suit the aesthetic or feel apt to broaden the sense of what does. For instance, music selections run in the veins of classical piano, speakeasy jazz, and the Great American Songbook. Contemporary styles, like various flavors of electronica, are described by overall effect meant to fit in with a mix of the above.

This leaves us with the Grinmaw in the tank - technology irrevocably affecting contemporary lifestyles. The near ubiquity of pocket computing, with all the utility and connectivity and distraction it facilitates. The necessity to acknowledge its existence without stuffing up all that aforementioned glamour with selfie sticks and glaring buzzwords - to modernize standard patterns of communication and recreation instead of having readers wonder where all the phones went. In other words, a right pain in my arse to soft focus the specifics of tech while giving enough idea of embracing it.

As with the Brutale itself, the characters' stories revolve around personal interaction, professional activity, and interests unobtrusively enhanced by the likes of phones and tablets and online media. I consider this in terms of long established workflow that nowadays happens to involve worldwide connection. Characters read books and articles, follow news and sports and fashion, listen to music and shows, collect style inspiration, send photos and messages and items of interest, save snapshots and impromptu recordings as mementos, check mail and call home, keep up with social circles - much as they would in a distant past, though with far greater scope and speed and efficiency. Of course they're also free to order merchandise or play games or throw in on some discussion, which can still be kept in general terms of interest. I can't possibly care less about the particulars of characters' social networks or chatting services, who is more apt to buy music versus stream it versus Greyson it, preferred sources for shopping or reviews or information searches or toilet humor, which card collecting time sink Clay got himself into after sufficient boredom with crosswords. I do care about how that pocket connectivity relates to the more interesting aspects of plot and personality, and how to describe that all in terms that judiciously expand the concept of a timeless atmosphere.

This ties into considerations of keeping archetypes relevant instead of glaringly anachronistic. Greyson is very much a classic British gentleman thief, and his penchant for treasure hunts reminiscent of the Bright Young Things of 1920s London. He can still rock a similar flamboyance and focus his work on finely machined locks requiring an expert's touch, albeit with some snark at the ease of popping the electronic variety. Willow's voodoo work is all about personal connections, handcrafted charms, and business relationships local to her French Quarter home. Lucas loves to wine, dine, entertain, and travel, and to show off his money with ornate bespoke luxury, which naturally leads him to be on good terms with a master clocksmith. Tequila's professional emphasis is on performance with live accompaniment and no frills beyond her attire, and her aesthetic evocative of Hollywood's golden age.

A contemporary Brutale does lose the romance of a distant bombastic past, of legends made even larger than life by the passage of time, of looking back at diaries and sepia photographs to the crackle of a gramophone. (Which is why I'm thrilled that Nikkusama astutely captures said romance - quite literally - in her Greyson/Redd series.) It just happens to be how my brain works and was made to work well enough for scratching my itch.

[ask-de-writer]

GONE TO SEA : World of Sea : Science Fiction : Part 3

GONE TO SEA

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

WORK IN PROGRESS (Word count unknown at this time)

copyright 2018

Writing started 2005

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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Chapter 02. Colony

All thousand of the new colonists of Sea stood in the largest recreational plaza to wish the crew of the ESA 14 farewell.  Captain Alain wound up his speech by saying, “We have done our best to ensure that this colony has as good a start as it can have.  You know that we would have been willing to take you all back with us if it were possible.  The laws governing the physics of the Crossover drive will not let us.  

“We will see that an expedition is sent to see how you are doing as quickly as the ESA can do so.  You will be on your own until then. Sometime between forty two to fifty years from now they will arrive. Until then, may you be blessed by whatever Deity you choose to pray to.

“I hope that the relief expedition finds you well and prospering.  May that vessel need only take back whatever unique and wonderful trade goods and ideas you have found to contribute to the community of mankind among the stars.”

To somewhat subdued cheers, the crew of the ESA 14 filed aboard their Slowpoke shuttle to return to the orbiting starship.  Lifting with the silence of any well functioning Crossover device, the shuttle dwindled into the sky and was gone.

Giles Willon turned to Marcus Angerson and observed, “Got to say, this planet is a bit of a disappointment.”  He flexed his elbows out from his body and finished with a grin, “Expected more elbow room. Know what I mean?”

Marcus snapped back, “Are you mocking me?  You know that I am a soils engineer!  The services of my specialty have been vital to the very survival of all twenty three other ESA colonies.  Why did the ESA even bother sending me here?  There is no land to bring to the needs of mankind.  No soils to engineer at all!  This is a travesty!”

Giles raised hand placatingly.  “There is no need for such anger, Marcus. We all know why we are here.  None of us is suited to a world like this.  The probe that found this planet was programmed incorrectly but nobody knew it until we got here.  

“Its program assumed that any planet with an atmosphere like this one meant that it had significant land masses and that some form of photosynthetic plant life had to exist.  That is all.  We all knew that no matter what we found here, it was a one way trip for us.  It was a gamble.  We sort of lost.”

Small, black haired and eyed Pele Barant interjected, “Maybe we did win but just haven't realized it yet.  The gods can be really sneaky that way.”

With a sneer, Marcus turned his back on her, muttering, “False gods!”

Giles looked down a bit to Pele's usually cheerful Polynesian face and said, “Don't mind him.  He is just disappointed with his situation, that is all.

“By the way, I enjoyed working on the truss work of this station with you. You did a great design job.  We are lucky to have someone with your civil and mechanical engineering skills and marine architecture experience with us.”

Pele flashed Giles a ready smile and said, “Thank you.  I appreciate having someone who can look down to my face and up to my work at the same time.”

/////////

As the weeks passed into months, the station began to settle into a routine as people got used to the strange situation that they found themselves in.

/////////

In his quarters, Marcus Angerson closed the door of his study to shut out the sounds of his wife Trisha and their two children Benjamin and Lora while he brooded on the wrongness of his situation.  He pulled the blinds to seal away the glare of the sun and the vile sight of the endless ocean, with not so much as a sandbar above sea level anywhere on the entire planet.  

There is no reason to it!  All of my years of study on how to adapt alien soils to the needs of mankind have been wasted.  Instead of being one of the most vital men for the colony's survival, I am now very nearly the least. What should I do?

His eye fell to the Bible on his working desk.  Sourly, he picked it up and began to read.  Somehow, it did not give the solace that it used to in times of difficulty.  Doggedly, he went all the way back to Genesis and began at the very beginning.

////////

Hugh Barant raced his wife Pele and daughter Mala'klea to their quarters. His long legs could have easily overtaken them but young Mala'klea loved beating him in races, as long as he didn't make it too easy for her.  Mala'klea's small hand hit the door frame only a tiny fraction of a second before Hugh's.  Flashing her father a high-spirited grin, Mala'klea ducked into their apartment.  Pele was already drawing wide the blinds to allow the generous sun of Sea to shine into their rooms and let them see the wonder of a rolling ocean that had no end.

There were some of Sea's many kinds of birds perching on the railing of their balcony.  They were waiting to see if the people inside had something that they would share with the birds . . . or that the birds could steal for that matter.  The birds apparently didn't see much difference.  Besides, Pele or Mala'klea always set out a plate of something for them to squabble over.  Today was no exception. Pele produced a fresh plate with a roasted fish that she had speared the other day while diving on the reef.  A small bird-storm developed around the plate.  The Barants sat on their side of the glass and watched with laughter and hugs.

/////////

Down in the Bio-safety and Nutrition laboratory, Kaim Hawadie told his many assistants, “Now that things are finally together, we need to got on the stick.  While we were helping to build this place we did get some reports out.  Just the construction area, less than one tenth of this reef complex, has yielded us a backlog of over three thousand samples to analyze.  

“To help out, we have devised a report cover page that lists the following items.  1. Toxic, 1a. Useful Y/N, 2. Edible- no nutritional value, 3. Edible- contains ______,  4. Pharmacological value ______, 5. Other useful features _______.

“Our job is to get the reports out as quickly and accurately as possible. Of course, we are watching for the thymine, lysine and missing vitamins in every organism or sample that we test.  If we find them, those reports will get a special red flag cover.

“Other experts will be trying to make sense out of our reports.  Our job, and it is a big one, is just to get them the data.  Now let's get to the analysis.”

/////////

Mister Torres sat back in an easy chair and watched his son Jason playing on the living room carpet.  It was a Periodic Table game.  His lovely and talented wife Mikhala was sitting opposite Jason, taking her turn at the game's cards.

Sadly he wondered, Will this place last long enough for you to grow up, Jason?  Mikhala, will we live to see grandchildren?  I really had no choice in doing this.  What we have here is the best that I could give to you all.  It is simply a hope.  In the end, an empty hope.

Perhaps, Mikhala, my love, your knowledge of Slowpoke drive systems will let us move into space.  I will need to ask you about the possibility of building us another shuttle.  We can't risk such a move with only one shuttle.  Farms in orbit or under domes on Wotan might actually allow us to survive.  Down here those monster Coriolis storms doom long term farming or pretty much anything else.

I wish that I had someone that I could open up to about these things.

Mister Torres went back to studying his tablet computer.  Immersing himself in the multitude of tasks needed to keep the colony running as smoothly as possible provided relief from his fatalistic ruminations.

/////////

Molly Miken called Mister Makle on the video link and invited, “Hey, Bronnie!  Me and my structural maintenance crew are planning a barbecue cook-out and pot luck down on dock A.  Want to come?  Bring Tam and your son Mark along.  We requisitioned one of the work boats for the afternoon to play about.”

A grin on his face, Mister Makle replied, “We will be there.  We will have to stop by the Commissary to get something, though.  Tam just got off work and Mark is on his way back from school.  By the way, please don't spread my first name around, I took a lot of ribbing in school over it.”

Molly promptly shot back, “Don't worry about that, Boss!  Your secret is safe with me!  Unless I need to blackmail you for better working conditions . . . Bronnie.”

///////////

Marcus Angerson laid aside the Koran.  In his shuttered den, away from the detested sight of endless ocean and the glare of the sun that could spawn such an abominable world, he glared at the books as if his problems were their fault.  He thought, Months wasted.  None of these, not the Bible, Koran or any of the other religious texts that I can find sheds any light on the real problem.  

Once again, the small voice that had been prodding and guiding him for the last month or so offered, ((Of course they don't.  Those books were written on Earth and, though they might provide some guidance, they were for the Earth.  You are not on Earth.  I do have a Plan for you, but the time is not yet ripe.))

Why am I so unnecessary?  By all rights I should be the most important single man in the colony!  In spite of my vital education, I remain utterly worthless. A mere teacher of children!

((At least that little pagan Barant got what she has had coming to her. In the end, all must come to Me.  Before that happens, you may need to be brought lower still.))

A knock at his study door interrupted Marcus' brooding.  Trisha, his wife, put her head in and announced, “Honey, dinner is waiting.  Would you please join us today?  We know how hard you are working, what with all of those school papers to grade.  Ben and Lora have missed you these last few weeks.”

With ill grace, Marcus came out to the apartment's dining area.  The window was open to the lowering sun, setting in a glory of low clouds, gilding them with gold, red and purple.  A light breeze came in off the ocean outside.

Seeing the light and the sight of the endless sea that he had been studiously shutting out irritated him.  Marcus strode angrily to the window and slid it shut with a bang.  He pulled the blinds, plunging the cheerful room into the gloom that better suited his mood.

Marcus stamped back to the table and sat.  He was reaching for his coffee when he heard Trisha's voice begin, “Sweet Lord, we thank you for the company at this table and this fine fish that you have provided us . . .”

Rudely he interrupted, “What are you doing?  The blessing is my duty!”

Benjamin, hands still folded, said mildly, “We didn't mean to upset you, father.  You haven't been here to say it for the last several weeks. We have been taking turns.  It was Mom's turn today.  Would you please say the grace for us?”

As he started to fold his hands, Marcus' eyes fell on the fish that lay on the plate at the center of the table.  It lay on a bed of green and wrinkly sea lettuce.  There was a hole through it, just back of the gills.  His brows drew down in a rage.  He demanded, “You were just asking me to sign for household money!  How could you afford such a fish as this?  You lied to me about being out of money!”

As Trisha looked up in shock at the accusation, Benjamin spoke up.  “The fish didn't cost us anything, Dad.  The Barants went diving on the reef a few days ago.  Pele sent Mala'klea around with it as a gift.”

Marcus' lip curled in disdain as he demanded, “And what would you have made for our dinner if you had not begged from that, that . . . heathen?”

Lora gave her father a confused look and said, “Nothing.  The kitchen is empty.  The Commissary turned down Mom's card when we went to shop today.  They said that there was no money left in it.  That is why she has been trying to get you to sign the transfer.”

Ignoring his daughter, Marcus grabbed the plate from the table and hurled both it and the fish on it against the wall.  He yelled in outrage, “We will not bend the knee to those vile pagans!

“That false idol worshiping fiend is behind all of my, eh, our misfortune!  At every turn, she is put up on a pedestal and I am cast lower!”

Trisha, eyes wide in fear, was looking at her husband as if she had never before seen him.  Tentatively she extended her tablet and stylus, saying, “Please dear, just sign the transfer and I will buy you whatever you want for din . . .”  Her head rocked back as Marcus slapped her in the face.  Her tablet fell to the table and skittered to a stop against Lora's dinner plate.

His own face twisted into a feral snarl, Marcus withdrew his stinging hand. Blood mingled with the tears that trickled down Trisha's cheek. He raged, “I sign you money every week!  You should have plenty!  Use it!”

Cringing in fear after his father's outburst, Benjamin found the courage to say, “You haven't signed us any money for about a month.  You keep saying that you will do it presently but you haven't done it.”

Scrabbling to recover her tablet, Trisha extended it in another desperate attempt to get the money that they all needed.  “Please, Marcus. Benjamin is right.  It has been three weeks since we had a weekly transfer for the household funds.  We are behind on our bills.  We have the money in the bank to pay for everything.  All that you need to do is sign the transfer.”

Anger causing him to draw a separate breath for each word, Marcus growled, “I. Am. Going. Out. . . When. I. Return. There. Will. be. Food. Fit. For. A. Godly. Man!”

Confused, the slap that she received bringing her greater pain than the brutal physical impact, Trisha asked, “Marcus?  What is wrong with you?  I am doing my best to . . .”  This time, the now furious Marcus hit her face so hard that her chair went over.  The tablet went flying, bouncing from the wall and landing on the floor.  The back of Trisha's head hit the wall and then thumped to the floor as she fell. Benjamin and Lora ran for their room and locked the door.

Marcus drove his heel deliberately into the tough glass of the tablet face, shattering it as he strode to the apartment door.  Over his shoulder he snapped, “You have joined the many seeking to bring me, to bring God Himself down and lift up the pagan above all!  It must not be! You must uphold me, uphold God, with proper food or suffer the consequence!”  The door slammed behind his retreating form.

/////////

TO BE CONTINUED

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[princess-carissa]

Carissa Morrison

Aspiring Author/Currently A College Student

Port Saint Joe, FL 32456

morrisoncarissa114@gmail.com

8502276926

I am currently attending classes online at Full Sail University, pursuing a Certificate in Creative Writing. I plan to enroll full time student again next year with hope in earning a Bachelors Degree in Creative Writing. I am looking forward to a career writing scripts for movies and television shows in the Entertainment industry. Right now, I am looking for an online entry level writing job to pay my bills while I attend college. I was waiting tables (5 years), I have customer service experience. I would like to put my role of serving customers in a retail setting behind me and kick-start my writing career. I am open to new opportunities; a chance on a new but passionate writer (myself) would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Authorized to work in the US for any employer Work Experience

Lead Sales Associate/Key Holder

Dollar General - Port Saint Joe, FL March 2020 to Present

Greeting customers; running a cash machine in an order to scan, total, and bag Dollar General merchandise for each customer; providing excellent customer service to shoppers; handling money; working with a team of employees; providing assistance to other employees when necessary. I was began at Dollar General as a cashier; after two weeks of training I was promoted to Key Holder; After 5 months I continue in position as a Lead Sales Associate/Key Holder

Server

Pat's Eatery - Braselton, GA March 2018 to November 2018

Developing a good sense of knowledge for a POS system; using a hand-held tablet at table for customer order; gaining an overall sense of knowledge for a high-class dining setting

● Upselling; wines and spirits, deserts, and daily specials prepared by head of kitchen

● End-of shift clean-up; assisting kitchen staff with BOH clean up, checking over duties of other servers;

Salesperson

Waffle House - Garden City, GA September 2016 to January 2017

Cleaning dining room, tables, and bathrooms each shift beginning and end

● Taking customer orders and delivering each order aloud to cook staff; operating a cash machine and transacting customer money and delivering change

Food Runner

Dockside - Port Saint Joe, FL March 2015 to September 2015

Delivering hot and fresh food to customers at table; garnished

● Assisting wait staff during busy shifts; refilling drinks, cutting fruit, and cleaning up tables after customers leave and preparing tables for following customers

● Picking up host shifts when needed; seating customers, cleaning tables, delivering drinks

Education

Certificate in Creative Writing

Full Sail University - Orlando, FL

October 2020 to Present Skills

• Customer service

• Kitchen

• Food service

• Server

• POS

• Sales

• Team Leader (Less than 1 year)

• Host/Hostess

• Restaurant Experience

• Leadership

• Microsoft Office (6 years)

• Adobe Creative Suite (Less than 1 year)

• Google Docs (3 years)

• Google Cloud Platform (2 years)

• Android (6 years)

• Apple Pages (1 year)

• Apple Keynote (1 year)

• Analysis Skills (Less than 1 year)

• AP Style (Less than 1 year)

• Content Creation (Less than 1 year)

• Creative Writing

• Blogging

• Mac OS

• Copywriting

• WordPress

• Helen By Carissa Morrison Helen was carrying a 50-foot chain over her shoulder using substantial strength. She hadn’t known a friend in her lifetime. On even the sunny days her teeth wouldn’t be exposed for her lips to greet anyone with delight. She couldn’t speak the simplest kind word and she lacked ability to leave the premises of her cage without intent of kidnapping, killing, or stealing anyone worth a life or anything worth value. I hear her coming. She was fat, flat-footed, hardly

could see, and taller than me, but I could take her. I could tell that she woke up in Hell today. Her thoughts are burning for miles in her corrupt gourd. Her train-of-thought is over-powered with speed and noise, the louder, the crazier. Her thoughts are a repetitive chant that gives me chills. “Stop, Stop, Stop! I just want it to stop!” Helen’s thoughts radiated through my brainwaves. If I could’ve turned my ESP off, I would have. Instead, I became stuck in her repetitive plead for mercy. Her

flat, heavy feet were creating thunder, echoing through the walls, inching her way to my room. Crayons thrust out of her ears; her face is melting Crayola colors yet she is still walking towards

my room not showing any sign of unusual struggle. Now standing stomach-to-face with me at my bedroom doorway I could only think of her belly flopping my petite body across the room... but I wasn’t scared. I had my secret weapon; the secret was that I had a weapon in my possession. She was only two feet short of making me believe that she was going to kill me. I noticed as her fear gave in and her weak defense surrendered, she was beginning to trust me instead of using her knife, as she should have to kill me, she had thought better about it. All’s well, her underestimation will be my victory. I time my angle, aim my arm, and swing. She fell to the ground and I grabbed my axe out of her hip bone. She was dead. I called Drew and told him what I had done. He told me to clean up the mess and he would be home from work soon. Helen was no longer a problem, and with her out of my way and Drew a happier man for it, I will be his hero and he would finally have me as his wife. I welcomed him home with a kiss. An Original Story | Creative Writing Example “Is mother gone?” He asked for reassurance. “Yes honey, she is taken care of.” END (1 year)

• Adobe Illustrator

Certifications and Licenses

Creative Writing

October 2020 to Present

I am currently in college earning a Creative Writing Certificate. I will graduate June 2021.

Assessments

Social media — Proficient

December 2020

Knowledge of popular social media platforms, features, and functions Full results: Proficient

Indeed Assessments provides skills tests that are not indicative of a license or certification, or continued development in any professional field.

Additional Information

Food Industry Skills

providing customer service in a restaurant setting; providing food service to customers; resolving and attending to complaints; creating a great experience for customers by having a genuine care for their meal satisfaction, drink refills, and service; dressing-up dining room for breakfast, lunch, and dinner accordingly; communicating important details such as reservations, customer requests, and reservations, and changes to order ticket to kitchen; gathering and calculating restaurant and each server's sales, handling end-of-shift tip-out, and finalizing credit card reports; complete