years later someone buys the plot, turns on the lights and is suddenly worshipped as a sun god by a bunch of puppets falling apart at the seams

pov you break into the spooky abandoned Playfellow Studios building for shits and giggles

Whumptober Day 1: Bound

It's October so of course I'm writing again! We'll see how far I get through Whumptober this year lol.

Day 1: “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Characters: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne

Summary: When Damian becomes the latest victim in a string of kidnappings across Gotham, it's down to Dick to save him and the rest of the missing kids. He just has to get there in time.

AO3 Link

~

The sound of Dick’s boots echoed in the empty hall even as his heart pounded in his chest and his comm buzzed white noise into his ear. Dim lights flickered around him, only just illuminating his path through the old abandoned hotel. But he had to keep moving, had to find the missing kids. Had to find Damian .

He pushed himself a little faster through the hall, pausing only whenever he came to a door to throw it open, then on finding it empty, start his mad dash again. They had to be here, everything pointed to this location.

Batman and Robin had been investigating a series of kidnappings over the past month. Dick had done his best to keep Damian away from the information but the kid was about as stubborn as Bruce had been when he decided on something, so Dick had let him in with the promise they did everything together.

And he’d kept that promise. He’d done so well, and then it had been Dick who’d lost him.

“Stupid.” Dick grumbled, peering into yet another empty room. Every room was empty on this floor, but there were still the ballrooms at the top to check.

He’d been so stupid, taking Damian out to do some shopping then turning away for a moment. A second had been all the kidnapper needed to grab another kid. Another victim. And it was Dick’s fault. For looking away when there was a person out there grabbing kids Damian’s age.

Alfred’s consoling voice from earlier flooded through his thoughts as he took the stairs down two at a time, ‘It is not your fault, you were simply trying to have a good day amidst all this terribleness.’ And what good had it done either of them? Panic in Dick’s chest, and a missing brother.

The only thing that kept him moving was that none of the kids had been found yet. No ransoms had been sent out either, but no bodies meant they had to be somewhere. And Dick was going to find them.

He’d tracked the kidnapper here via an unusual series of shipments of food and chemicals sent to a Dr. Keith Raimy. An ex-professor from Gotham U who’d been kicked out for multiple breaches of student privacy and theft of university property. He'd recently had a paper rejected. It's title? Fear and Trauma: Can We Make Our Kids Strong Enough for the Future, Through Fear Today? Dick had skimmed the paper, and what had been proposed inside had made him sick to his stomach.

The door to the first ball room he tried on the top floor was locked. Muffled, and just through the door, Dick could hear screams. In a fit of rage, and fueled by the panic Dick was only just keeping in check, he kicked it down. The old rotting hinges gave way and the thing toppled backward with a heavy thump.

Silence filled the room for a moment, giving Dick a breath to take it in. Mostly empty, it had rotting carpet and peeling wallpaper. A tattered chandelier hung from the ceiling, pieces held on by a few dangling wires, but mostly disassembled either from time or theft.

Huddled in a group in one corner of an old ballroom, were children. The children Dick had been searching for. From what he could see, they were bound with some sort of rope, and looked rough, but alive and breathing.

At the far back of the room there was a stage, or what had once been used as a stage. Now it was mostly just a raised platform with tall floodlights dragged up to it, a rumbling generator the source of their power. It was cluttered with other equipment too, tables filled with jars and beakers, boxes opened with bits poking out of the top, and a laptop hooked up to a microscope. Standing among the clutter was Dr. Raimy in a stained lab coat just blocking a table.

He had turned to stare at Dick when the door came crashing down. Now, he moved to raise his arm, mouth opening, and in the next breath the moment of silence was broken as the screaming started again. The doctor tensed, shifting a bit to cover the table, but it wouldn’t help.

Clear now, the voice was unmistakably Damian’s, high and terrified in a way Dick had never heard it before and it was coming from behind the doctor.

Dick bolted forward, slipping batagrangs out of his belt. Damian was his only thought. His boy was up there, terrified and suffering all because of the man in front of him.

Dr. Raimy jumped to the side, attempting to make a run for it, and stumbled into another table. It gave Dick long enough to cover most of the distance between them and fling a few batarangs in the man’s direction. One caught his jacket, and the other stabbed into junk on the table making him yelp.  He jerked back, and then turned towards the table he’d been guarding, making a second dart for it, and the figure writhing atop it. Red clouded Dick’s vision as he got his first clear view of his little brother, strapped down to the table with a long strand of barbed wire, and straining against it as he yelled.

Dick roared, and leapt up to the platform, grabbing the doctor as he did so. The man released an aborted shout as Dick flung him back and away from the table into a pile of boxes. He turned for a moment to Damian, catching sight of his brother’s pupils blown wide. He hadn’t even registered the action beside him, trapped in whatever horrorscape he’d been dropped into.

The sound of rustling indicated that Raimy was already pushing himself up, babbling something about science and progress and Batman not understanding.

He stalked forward, raising himself up to as imposing a height as possible and kicked at the doctor, knocking him back into the boxes to stun him. Then, he reached down and dragged the man upwards.

“What did you give him?” he demanded.

“It was--a mixture of my own making.”

Dick shook him so hard that he heard something pop, “Did you make an antidote?”

Behind him, Damian’s screaming changed pitch to something even more desperate.

“ Tell me .” he growled.

“T-there, it’s--it’s in the line of blue vials. Please don’t kill me, I was only trying-”

Dick didn’t give the man the time to finish his sentence, he punched him square in the face, and dropped him unconscious back into the boxes. Then he was over at the vials, thankfully a syringe had already been filled or he’d have to waste time figuring out how much to give Damian. He pocketed it, swapping it out in his hand for a pair of wire clippers and rushed back to the table.

“Damian, I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s alright.” Dick said, voice gentle, “I’m getting you out of here.”

Something must have gotten through to him, because Damian stilled at his words, staring with wide, terrified eyes up at Dick. Dick tried not to look at the red lines of blood on Damian’s arms and chest he worked on clipping the barbed wire, instead murmuring quietly to Damian to keep him calm.

Thankfully, the man hadn’t totally wrapped Damian in the stuff. The single band was thick and strong enough to keep a drugged kid down, but hopefully hadn’t done too much damage. Still, it made Dick’s stomach churn as he lifted it as gently as he could off his brother, Damian making only the tiniest of sobs as each barb still embedded in his skin pulled out.

“Just one more second, sweetheart.” Dick whispered, hoping his voice wasn’t carrying over to the other kids. There was murmuring coming from them by now, as they realized rescue was at hand, but Dick’s focus was on the kid currently in need of the most help. At last, Dick dropped the discarded wire onto the table and leaned back to find the vial of the antidote.

Something about the sound of the wire, or a movement Dick made, or just whatever concoction the doctor had given him triggered something in Damian the moment Dick leaned away. He shot up from where he’d been lying, and grabbed the wire with both hands, heedless of any damage it was causing.

Dick reached for him, ready to pull the barbed wire away from him but Damian scooted back, precariously close to the edge of the table and yelled, “No! Don’t!”

“Hey, it’s alright, why don’t you give me that?” Dick asked, trying to calm him back down.

“Stop!” Damian yelled again, gripping the wire tighter and pressing it to his chest, “Don’t take him!”

“Damian please, you have to let go. It’s hurting you.” Dick tried again, wincing as red started to drip down the wire.

“No! I won’t let you!”

“Okay, okay.” Dick held up both hands, whatever Damian was seeing must have been convincing and he didn’t want to hurt the kid by forcing the barbed wire out of his hands, he’d only tear them up more that way.

“Would you let me give you something?” Dick asked, gently lowering his arms to retrieve the syringe, “It’ll make you feel better.”

Damian eyed him, the look almost like what he’d normally make when suspicious, but just off enough from the drugs, “Yes?” he said.

“Great. I just need your arm, you don’t have to let go of anything or anyone okay?” Dick said, slowly reaching for Damian’s arm with his free hand. When the boy let him place his hands by his elbow, Dick angled it up, then after a moment, praying he hadn’t been lied to, injected his brother with the liquid in one motion.

Damian jerked back, squeezing the wire closer to him and went tumbling from the table. Dick lunged over it, and just managed to hook an arm around the kid, tugging him up. He heard the clatter of glass falling and hitting the ground as the syringe that had still been stuck in Damian’s arm slipped out and shattered.

“No! No! Stop!” Damian wailed, kicking and jerking in Dick’s hold.

Mindful that if he tugged Damian into his chest the barbed wire would do more harm, Dick decided he'd restrain him by pulling his back towards him. That was easier said than done with a flailing kid. At last, Dick had an arm hooked under Damian’s arms and had him held tight against him, seated again on the table. His brother continued to scream and kick and tug at him for another minute, then two, until gradually Damian’s own chest slowed it’s rapid rise and fall and his cries quieted down to nothing.

“Batman?” His voice was tiny, shattered from screaming, but almost lucid.

Dick dropped his face into Damian’s hair and sighed, “Yeah, I’ve got you.”

He let go of Damian and stepped around to face his front. There, he pointed at the tangled barbed wire still in Damian’s hands, “Will you hand me that?”

Damian looked down surprised to see it, “Oh.”

Wincing he released it, and before anything else could happen, Dick balled it up and tossed it away from them. When he turned back to Damian, the kid was staring down at his palms that were red and torn. He hadn’t said anything else, but Dick could hear the tight way he was breathing, the sound almost like whistles, like he was holding back the pain.

He dug out some gauze, wraps, and something to numb the pain, “Here, let me.”

With gentle motions Dick bandaged Damian’s hands. When he was done, he dropped a kiss onto the knuckles of each one, “Wait for me right here? I have to help the others.”

Damian’s eyes went wide, “The kids--”

“Are mostly fine.” Dick said, sparing them another glance, they’d been remarkably patient, but their chatter had gone up from quiet murmurs to full conversations, “But eager to be untied I’m sure.”

His brother nodded. Even though it tore at Dick’s heart to step away, he did. And he took as much time with each of them as they needed. Batman couldn’t focus only on one child after all, especially when others showed signs of having gone through something similar to Damian.  Gradually though, Dick got them all settled down, untied, and called Oracle to let her know to send police and paramedics. Then he swung by Damian to scoop him up into his arms --the kid for once not arguing being carried-- and corralled everyone downstairs.

Dick could see the lights of the emergency vehicles through the windows, and sent the children out before him, lingering back in the building with Damian. The last thing he wanted to do was let go of his brother, even if it was to hand him off to medical professionals. He’d just gotten him back, and the mere thought of having him out of his sight for a second felt impossible to manage. All he could think of were the number of --mostly implausible-- ways Damian could end up hurt or in danger again.

He was starting to see why Bruce had been so protective of his Robins.

"Batman?" Damian's voice was very quiet in the dim lighting.

"Yes?"

Damian shifted so his face was pressed a little closer to Dick's neck, "I'm sorry. I got caught."

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I let you get taken."

"I-" Damian sighed, "Thank you for coming."

Dick tugged him a little closer, mindful that he still had injuries that needed to be cared for, "Always. Now, what do you say we sneak out and let Alfred finish patching you up? The police are used to Batman disappearing, and I found you before I ever reported you missing."

Damian, hummed, “I would like that, I want to go home.”

Dick pressed a kiss into Damian’s hair, “Then straight home we go.”

All Nighter

Previous Parts: Extracurricular Teacher’s Pet

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness; name calling;

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Your academic worries are compounded by your personal dilemma.

Note: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I caved and we get a third part.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Halfway through the lesson, you excused yourself. As Ransom waited at the front and students scoured over an excerpt of Catcher in the Rye, he sent you another jarring message. It was time. 

You stood carefully, the skirt offering little coverage and knowing you were about to be even more exposed. You ducked down as you walked along the front row and disappeared through the door.

You went to the restroom and locked yourself in a stall. Your phone vibed again, still clutched tightly in your hand. ‘Show me.’ He demanded and even in font, the words made you shudder.

You sighed and held your phone out at an angle with one hand as you opened the camera. You directed the lense to your skirt and tugged it up until your purple panties were exposed. You shimmied as you slid them down on either side with your fingers and let them fall past the top of your stockings. You ended the recording and hit send before collecting your crumpled underwear.

You folded them and shoved them up your sleeve and locked your phone. You returned to the class, unnoticed, and sat in your seat with your head down. You bent back the cover of the book and tried to focus on the passage. You could hear Ransom as he rocked in the old office chair.

You peeked up at him as he held his phone up. His face was blank as he watched the screen. His finger tapped the phone and he nodded. He lowered his cell and his eye caught yours before you could shy away. He winked and cleared his throat.

“Alright, everyone, let’s start with a brief summary. Who wants to begin?” He stood and approached the podium again. “Go ahead.”

You blinked and realised he was pointing at you. You let out a prolonged uh and shuffled your book dumbly.

“Um, in this chapter, uh, Holden tells us about his neighbour, Jane, and um,” you squirmed a Ransom stared at you and you felt the attention of every other student in the lecture hall, “As the chapter progresses we learn that Holden has shared with her things, like Allie’s baseball glove, that he hasn’t with anyone else and in turn, eh, erm, Jane’s character disassembles and both Holden and the reader wonder after her alcoholic stepfather and even if he has… a-abused her. Holden prefers to think of her, however, as innocent, and accepts a not very convincing denial. Really, he hears what he wants to and goes on without a single--” You stopped as you began to ramble. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Ransom appeared amused and leaned on the podium. “Okay. Any other interpretations?”

He looked around and you deflated in your chair. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be talking about Jane and her vile stepfather, and you didn’t want your professor to keep looking between your legs. But just like Holden, Ransom couldn’t see anything but his own male ego. Anyone else was just a stepping stone in his grand American narrative.

🖊️

When class ended, you were as eager as any other to be gone. The two-hour block at seven in the evening was hardly anyone’s ideal, even if it was a weeknight. You slid your notebook away and the used edition of Salinger. You dropped the pens into the side pocket of your worn messenger bag and stood to watch your peers flood out of the classroom.

You wanted badly to be on your way and for an instant, you had a glimmer of hope that you might. But then you heard the deep breath and your name was called from behind you. 

“Just a minute,” he said with all pretense of deceiving any stragglers, “You seem to be missing a page from your assignment.”

You turned slowly and left your bag in the seat. You neared him and your nostrils flared as your gaze met his. It wasn’t even your paper he held. You swallowed back your reticence and pretended to look at the essay. 

“Oh, sorry.” You said as he peered over your shoulder.

“Go on,” he lowered his voice as the upper doors finally closed with a heavy clank. 

You cringed and reached up your sleeve and pulled out your panties. You let them fall onto the folder and he poked his fingers through the fabric and stretched them out. He hummed and rubbed the cotton between his fingers.

“You got anything sexier?” He snatched them up and shoved them in his pocket. “I thought you college girls were funner than that.”

You glared at him and crossed your eyes. “Right, is that everything?”

“Don’t,” he warned, “Sweetie, I don’t like that tone.” 

You huffed and rolled your eyes. He shuffled away his papers as you retreated to grab your own bag. You headed for the door as you unfolded your jacket from over your arm.

“Where are you going? I didn’t dismiss you.” He called from behind you. You turned back and stared at him.

“I have class in the morning.” You said.

“And?” He scoffed. “It’s only nine.”

You were quiet as he approached you. You wanted so badly to scream and hit him. He was a frat boy with tenure. He was as slimy and shady as every guy on campus and you had been deluded enough to think that age and title would change a spoiled brat with a silver spoon still lodged firmly in his mouth. Oh, the naive romanticism of a sophomore.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

He snickered and kept on as you backed away from him. He had you against the door as he slapped his hand above your shoulders and loomed over you. He leaned in as his other hand played with the bottom of your shirt.

“Because I can.” He purred, “And because I love the look in your eyes as I’m balls deep.”

“Ew,” you slapped his chest but he didn’t flinch. He merely grabbed your arm and spun you around as he pushed the door open behind you.

“Good thing you took those panties off,” he sneered, “You won’t be needing them.”

🖊️

You spent the car ride hunched against the passenger door, wishing you were anywhere else. Ransom let the radio fill the silence as he barely seemed to recall your presence. He steered with one hand, unbothered by the tension between you. As he pulled up to his house, its tall glass windows and geometric structure thrust you into a whirlwind of deja vu.

He killed the engine and rounded as you remained in your seat. You were too numb to do anything but sit there and stare at the house. You remembered patches of that night; stumbling up the walk, Ransom carrying you up stairs, his body against yours, the disorienting pain of his intrusion.

The door opened and you nearly fell out of the car. The seatbelt kept you from your descent and you unbuckled it as Ransom grabbed your arm and dragged you out into the crisp autumn evening. Your boots tapped melodically as he led you up the paved walk and you found it hard to think straight.

“Wait, wait,” you stopped as you reached the threshold, “No, Ransom, Professor… this is… wrong. You can’t--”

“For such a quiet little bitch you sure don’t shut the fuck up,” he snarled as he unlocked the door, one hand still on your arm. Your blood froze as you thought of your bag on the floor of the car, your phone buried in the side pocket. “Come on.”

“No, please,” you wriggled in his grasp, “You can’t keep doing this to me. I’ll… I’ll tell.”

“Not if I tell first,” he said coolly and bent to sling you over his shoulder. “Now let’s give you something to tell about.”

He pushed through the door and slapped your ass as he carried you inside. You kicked and writhed over his shoulder as he strode into the front room. The lights shone as they were triggered by some unseen sensor.  

He carried you to the modern sofa with its flat cushions and low back, and dropped you onto it gruffly. You bounced and bit your tongue painfully.

“Don’t make me tear those clothes off or you won’t have anything to wear in the morning,” he warned as he kicked off his leather boots and paced along the broad windows that formed the front wall of the room. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a rack in the corner and turned back to you. “Well…”

You bent to unzip your boots and shoved them aside. You heard a clink and looked over your shoulder. Ransom stood behind the small bar along the far wall and plunked a glass on top.

“Seem to loosen up with a few drinks in you,” he pulled out another tumblr and a bottle of dark whiskey. “This stuffs a lot better than that toilet water they serve in the club.”

You ignored him and stood to remove your jacket. You realised that there was no way out. You kept trying to convince yourself there was but that only made it worse. You hung your coat beside his as he watched you closely and gave a measured pour.

“Here,” he slid a glass across the bar. “Drink up, sweetie.”

“I’m not thirsty,” you ignored him and walked nervously back to the sofa. Was it better to have it done with?

“I don’t care what you want now get over here and drink,” he growled. “Or I’ll force it down that pretty little throat myself.”

You blanched and slowly crossed to the bar. You took the short glass and raised it, the alcohol made your nose tingle. He watched you as he drained his own tumbler. You tossed it back in three stinging gulps and coughed as you set the glass back on the bar. He chuckled and poured again, but didn’t add any to his empty glass.

“Again.” He ordered.

“Please, I can’t--” You waved your hand as you touched your raw throat. He stared at you and his jaw twitched. You pouted and lifted the glass again. You drank with tears in your eyes and gasped as you swigged it down. “There.” You choked as you planted the tumblr on the bar top. 

He reached over as if to pour some more and grinned as he hovered the bottle over your glass. He laughed and lowered it down onto its base instead. “Good girl.” He came out from behind the bar and neared you, drawing you away with him. “But you’re not naked yet.”

He thrust you ahead of him and you stumbled to the sofa. Your wits were buzzing from the whiskey and your empty stomach rolled. You hadn’t eaten since the early afternoon, right before your second lecture. You were wholly unprepared for the alcohol and the man before you.

You reached and tugged at the bottom of your turtleneck. You pulled it up and freed your head from it with a grunt. You dropped it onto the sofa and Ransom touched your shoulder where he’d bit you days before. It was still tender and made you wince. You unbuttoned your skirt and pushed the zipper down. It fell to your ankles without much effort.

Ransom’s hands went to your chest and he fondled your tits through your plain bra. He reached around you and unhooked it easily, yanking it down your arms and flinging it away. His fingers danced along your side and you hooked your thumb under the top of your stockings.

“Uh uh,” he tutted, “Keep those on.”

You retracted your hand and he gripped your shoulders. He pushed until you sat on the sofa and he backed away slightly. His tongue poked out as he took you in and he grinned. He pulled his knit sweater over his head and threw it on the floor. He made quick work of his undershirt and revealed his muscled torso. You squeezed your legs together and stared at your knees.

“We both know those college boys are nothing compared to me, sweetie,” he teased as you heard the buckle of his belt. “It’s okay, you can have a peek.”

You didn’t say anything as you listened to him strip. When he neared, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. He grabbed your chin and forced your head up. His other hand moved below your vision as he stroked himself. 

“Get up,” he demanded and you stood with a sway. The whiskey stormed inside of you.

His hand fell to your arm and he dragged you away from the sofa. He directed you towards the tall windows and you shivered as you got closer. He stopped you before the glass and brought your hands up and planted them against the window. You felt the chill through it as he grasped your hips and drew your feet back. You stared out onto the drive, the street barely visible just beyond the curve, although you could see the lights of the neighbour’s house.

“What--”

“Shhh,” he tickled your spine and groped your ass roughly. “Stay just like that, sweetie.”

He slipped his hand down and kicked your feet apart. He felt along your folds and you shivered as his warmth contrasted against the cold seeping through the glass. Bumps rose along your skin as he poked around your entrance.

“Wet, already.” He tisked, “I thought you were a good girl.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes as he reached to your clit and rubbed it with two fingers. You gasped as he teased you and drew back to shove a finger inside you. He grabbed your shoulder as your back arched and stepped closer. He pulled his hand away and prodded you with his tip again.

“Professor…” You hissed.

His hand went to the back of your neck and he pushed your face against the glass as he slowly forced his tip inside of you. You groaned and turned so that your cheek rested against the cool window and he impaled you entirely. You slapped the glass and your fingers curled as he filled you.

“Ah,” you whined and he bucked so that your whole body quaked.

“Still so fucking tight,” he rocked against you as his thick breaths surrounded you. “You had me hard all night, sweetie. I could barely fucking stand straight.”

He tilted his hips into you as you were on tiptoes and your legs began to tremble beneath you. You clung to the glass, afraid you might collapse. He nuzzled your head and growled as sped up. You moaned without thinking as your walls clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he hummed and dropped his hand from your neck, trailing both along your chest and stomach. He hunched over you as he felt around the back of your thighs and panted into your hair. “You can play coy all you want but your cunt says it all.”

His hands stretched across your thighs and you exclaimed as he suddenly scooped you up. He bent your legs to your chest as he lifted you and your fingertips slid along the glass. He hooked his arms under your knees and opened you up as he hammered into you from below. 

He stepped closer to the window and you braced yourself against it as your reflection stared back at you. The inky dark was clouded by the glare of the light inside and revealed to you your shame. Your eyes drifted down and you saw how easily he slid in and out of you.

Your legs tensed around his arms and your breath hitched. You shut your eyes as your mouth fell open and felt your core bloom. You were close, so close, and you needed to cum. You didn’t care that it was him or that it was here; you had to.

You kept one hand on the window and snaked your other down to your cunt. You flicked circles around your clit as the sound of your flesh mingled with his. He crashed into you harder and harder and snarled into your neck.

“You fucking slut,” he rasped, “You touching yourself? Huh? You fucking like it.” He pulled your legs further apart until your hips rang with pain. “Bad girl.”

You spasmed and came with a squeak. You felt yourself dripping down his cock as the warmth leaked from you. You smacked your slick hand against the window again and bit down on your lip as he rutted into you with gristly grunts.

“Say it. You’re a bad girl.” He puffed.

“Wha--”

“Say it,” he slammed into you hard.

“I’m-- I’m a… bad… girl,” you choked out. “Oh, oh, I’m bad.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said frantically and stilled you. He sniffed and held you on him. “Get…” His voice trailed off and he lifted you from him.

He lowered you swiftly and your legs wobbled dangerously beneath you. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to your knees. He brought you close as he stroked himself desperately.

“I’m gonna cum on your tits, sweetie,” he moaned, “I’m gonna--”

He grunted and strings of cum erupted from him as he angled his dick over you. His cum spurted over your chest and shoulders, even along your chin and cheek as his body shook and his fingers sank into your neck. He twitched as he slowed his hand and sighed as he let his cock bob freely before him.

“Mmm,” he let go of you and looked down at you with a smirk, “You look amazing covered in me.” 

He ran his hands over his chest and exhaled. You tried to stand and he caught your shoulder. “Crawl.” He ordered. “Get on the sofa and wait for me, sweetie.” He ran his finger through the cum along your cheek, “I won’t be long.”

🖊️

You woke in a fog. Your thighs, your hips, your cunt all ached. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at the pristine white ceiling. You were sprawled flat on the stiff sofa, alone. Your mouth was dry and your tongue tasted of flesh and alcohol. You groaned and sat up as your head reverberated. The sky outside was a dull grey and the clock above the door read just before seven. Fuck.

Your name floated in from the doorway at the other end of the room. You hung your head and stood. You took the throw draped over the back of the chair beside the couch and covered yourself. You neared the arch and peeked inside. Ransom poured a cup of coffee from a French press.

“You’re gonna be late if you don’t get your ass in gear,” he said smugly as he pushed the mug across the island.

You grumbled and crossed to the marble counter. You climbed up onto a tall stool and winced at the tenderness between your legs. The coffee smelled delicious as your stomach churned.

“Don’t worry, you can ride with me,” he taunted. “What time you done today?”

You frowned and took a boiling sip, barely noticing how the coffee seared your tongue. “Four… why?”

“Hmm, that’ll be a long day,” he said. “But not… too long.”

His cryptic words made you scowl and he left you without explanation. He returned with a pink box and his phone. He placed both on the counter. You watched him, confused, and he eased the lid off the box. Inside, was a silicon plug in hot pink. You shook your head.

“No.” You said firmly.

“It’s for your cunt, calm down,” he said.

“No,” you repeated and cradled your mug. “Ransom…”

“Professor. I think I prefer ‘professor’. It’s… proper.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. He flicked his finger over his phone and it unlocked. He tapped and you leaned on your elbow. He pressed his finger against the centre of the circle that appeared and the box began to buzz as the plug vibrated. He dragged his finger around the circle and the toy intensified. You blinked.

“We’ll save that fun for class tomorrow night,” he licked his lip, “For now, you just need to… adjust.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, come on. You take me well enough.” He slithered. “Gotta have you ready… I have a break just after five. I expect you can hit pause on your studying for a visit.”

You were stunned. You set the cup down and rubbed your cheeks as you tried to process it all.

“You’re disgusting.” You sneered.

“Oh,” he closed the app and searched through his phone. He turned it to you and hit place, “So are you, sweetie.”

You squinted as you saw yourself against the glass, your tits bouncing as Ransom fucked you from behind, his own face hidden by the angle of the security camera. You swallowed and your hands went to your neck as your skin burned with humiliation.

“You…” you were speechless and tore your eyes way from his phone.

“I have a lot more than that,” he assured you as he spun the phone back to him and watched the footage with a leer, “Hurry up.” He locked the screen. “Or I’ll make sure we’re both late.”

do as you're told

「ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ」

warnings: bad!levi, unprotected sex, swearing, choking, gagging, degrade, daddy kink [captain kink], nsfw, smut.

word counter: 1.9 words.

ｃａｐｔａｉｎ ａｃｋｅｒｍａｎ

it has been a long day since you woke up. assignments from the captain levi were impracticable before surrender: disassemble a paper bale, sort 'em into letters, trash, requests and again trash. you didn't knew exactly what for levi the word trash mean to him. but you know that he has never read bullshit from the court. yes, he's respecting it, but again - his office is full of paper bale.

then you need to clean the windows and at the end of the day, when he'll be back you've to help him. levi didn't say it either what kind of help he's expecting you to do.

'brat, you've to be here at eight or else i'll make you to clean my shoes with your tongue'

he wasn't joking; you knew he can do that. a quarter to eight and you're spinning near his office, waiting for him. barely standing on your feet, falling asleep.

'i was certain you won't be able to fulfill my instructions, but you did, fortunate brat'

he sat down on the chair, staring at you sullenly. your blood runs cold, you stopped in the middle of the office, staring at your shoes. it's been an exhausting day, you're been doing the tasks since dawn and now it's almost sunset. you were ready to sit on the chair in front of levi, when he gave you a warning sign.

'did i allow you to sit down? you still have an assignments to be done' you're speechless of his rudeness. you just sighed, getting ready for new not less exhausting duty. you've got a feeling that you won't be able to training tomorrow, due to today's responsibilities.

captain showed you a gesture with his index finger: 'come here' and did without a word. approaching towards levi, your legs with difficulties moving, dreaming to feel your soft and warm bed underneath your body - one second, and you'll be asleep.

'yes, captain levi' you said, standing in front of him. ackerman unrolled the chair with him, putting hands on his knees.

'bend over closer to my face, idiot' your cheeks are covered with a pink blush, after levi pronounced that. it's the basic order: being relatively close to him. 'calm down', you mind said, 'he won't kiss you, relax'. when you did you, he brought his lips to your ear, scorching the earlobe with hot breath.

'undress me'

you're dazed, trying to reproduce his words in your head. udress? only shirt or totally naked? you've never see him naked. you've seen the outlines of muscular body in all of the years of his persistent and sometimes brutal training. but, will that means you're gonna touch his skin, his scars and smell his skin?

'did you not hear me unless you wanna get a punishment?'

he said that louder, waking you up from your thoughts.

'yes, sir'

carefully removing from him neckerchief; you slowly unbutton the buttons of his white shirt, feeling his chest rise. unbuttoning the last button, you were praying to god that it'd end, 'cause even doing it, just undressing him, it's compulsion you to think about the lower part of levi's body. when you finished, he took off his shirt, putting it on the table. you straightened your back, trying not to stare at his bulge.

'i said, undress me, cadet. i'm starting to think to give you another punishment'

before you touched the belt, swallowed nervously; your hands are almost shaking, oh how hot is he. the heat of his body is maddening, you can't deny it.

'how you're gonna take off my pants, when i still in my shoes?'

levi is rude as fuck now. he's always acting and being rough with everybody, but now he's too rude to you. you did every task, every fucking task and now he is still not satisfied? you wanted to say chill out captain, there's no need to rush, but the fear of having another task after depleted day, stopped you.

you got down on your knees, taking off his shoes. 'i'm only undressing him, please, i can't get arousal of doing it'. standing on your knees, you looked straight into the eye, with a mute supplication in your eyes, beg him to stop this.

'now my pants, y/n. take them down'

he said it with his deep and husky voice. you're done right now: wanna escape, run away from him, but you blatantly wanna know what'll be next.

to tease him? yes.

to run your fingers from his knees to the bulge? definitely yes.

you sighed, touches the belt, unbuckling the belt, faltering to touch the zip. you felt it. felt the bulge under his pants. unzipped the pants, looked up.

levi is relishing every second of this torture. he knows you're wanna more and he'll give it to you. he got up from the chair, still gazing at you with lust in his eyes, waiting for you to take off his pants.

slowly you put them down; your heart beats faster than always. maybe it's because you've been doing intimity things. it's so aroused. finally, it's over.

'i've a long day, brat, i wanna take a bath'

'you want me to make a bath for you, captain?'

'no', you mentally sighed, expecting that captain finally allow you to leave the office. 'wash me, i'm dirty'

you thought. wait, huh, what? seriously? he's certain? levi can do it by himself, he's no that tired as you're. you were reluctant to do his duties, when there were other people he could asked for.

'what if someone sees us in the bath?'

'i gave 'em an order to be in the bedrooms until the sunrise, no one wouldn't sneak out'

you got up off your knees, following the captain. you made him out to be your captain, your mentor, not a beast. he must be a mentor. when you both got in the bath, he locked the door for credibility.

'now take off the last thing'

it's necessary to be done by you? but, he's the leader, so you need to reckoned with him. you took the edges of the boxers, taking them off. you're trying to look everywhere but not at his growing dick. yes, you wanna see at levi, but, fuck, his cock.

you took the towel, soak it in warm water, rubbing over his body. it's hard not to look down there. you went behind his back, rubbing his back, ogling at him: muscular, strong body with littles scars from the past battles. light emanating from candles, showing his curves perfectly.

it's a curse - look but don't touch levi's body. only staring and choking from the pleasure.

'my lower body is dirty too, brat, hurry up'

so you back face-to-face with ackerman. you bited your lower lips, restlessly rubbing his stomack.

'are you scared to look at my dick, cadet?'

no, you aren't. you're taking precautions. you are cadet. you killed titans and you're still alive, and here it goes: you are scared to watch at yours captain dick.

no you aren't.

'on your knees, y/n, and with every rub you're gonna call me captain'

the hell. it's getting hotter here.

but, anyways, you want it too. wanna touch it and suck his dick. lick the balls and go back to the tip of his cock.

'captain', he's mesmerized by you: the way you gentle rub the towel over his body, washing him, staring straight into his eyes.

'i bet your tongue will clean my dick better'

you finally look at his cock. the tip is pink from your careless, your gentle touches.

'captain', you whispered, slightly blowing on his dick.

you knew that'll happened. you're gonna be on your knees, insatiably sucking the dick so levi will come in your mouth, breeding you. and every soldier needs to release the desire. especially the sexual desire. both craving to each other, but up to this moment you were just a team.

now you're standing on your knees, so your teammates will ask you what happened with you. what will you say? but, it'll be tomorrow, now you're sucking his dick like it's the last time you see him. unquenchably up and down, using your tongue, strocking the base of the cock with one hand.

when you reached down, unzipped your pants, thinking about rubbing you clit.

'have you had my permission to touch yourself, brat? i'm gonna gag you on my cock'

levi put his hands on your nape, gagging you, practically chocking, giving no breaks. humanity's strongest is rough everywhere, you were well-aware about it. tears begin to accumulate in the corner of the eyes: getting a bang out of pain and pleasure. it won't stop, you don't wanna it to stop, playing this moment in your head, scorching this in your mind to the day you'll die.

'i wanna fuck you raw, tonight, y/n, you should be dripping or else it'll hurts as fuck'

not it won't. you're acking for it, hungry for ackerman's cock. there is something in the ackerman's blood; you don't know exactly what, but he's certainly beckoning you: his smell, his manhood, his willingness to kill titans. it all in conjunction is maddening you. he quickly take off your clothes, started to kiss to greedily, biting your lips.

he hoisted you up by the waist, making you wrap your legs around his torso. the next second you felt like you were pressed against a cold wall.

'i knew it, brat. you've been craving for me, i'm happy it's mutually'

you didn't hear the last words, moaning to feel the tip inside you. one second and he completely entered you. huge, thicc cock. he increased the pace right after the first push. you're leaving the red patterns on his wide back, whining on levi's ear, kissing his neck, leaving a wet path from one shoulder to the other.

'you squeeze my dick so hard, my brat, you wanna cum already?'

'it's just so good'

'hold it, i wanna to cum concurrent with you'

you do as you're told. hold your orgasm. he won't last long, he endured too long, yes, he's strong. but when it comes to the person he loves - he will be weak only for them.

his cock is pounding right in the g-spot, making you melt. you've been a feverish french kissing since he went inside you. fat dick in the tight pussy, kissing the person you love - isn't it lovely?

couldn't be better.

'i'm cumming levi, can't no more'

you wrapped your legs tighter around your captain, cumming with him. he came with a little groan, leaved a dozen nail marks on your hips. he put his forehead on your shoulder, catching his breath. he let you out of his arms, kissed you on the forehead.

'tomorrow i'll go for a small expedition and when i'll return, i'm expercting you to be on all fours and naked'

'you're smug as fuck, levi'

'are you talking back to me?'

'i'll do it, captain'

///~~~///

oops, almost fifty people subscribed to my blog in a day and, wow, thank you guys!

For the prompts for 300 fics, some kind of angst and reconciliation fic? I know that’s vague but I’m in the mood for some angst with a happy (or not!) ending, and you’re my go to for that :)

Angst with an optional happy ending? Nonny, you know me too well.

This is part 1 of what will be either multi-chaptered or just longer once I get it on AO3, so at the moment we’re just dealing with some light angst, and who doesn’t love that on a Saturday night. Hopefully the second part will be posted in a few days.

E/R, modern AU. Former relationship.

Enjolras pulled his hood even tighter over his blond curls and glanced over his shoulder before reaching up to feel for the key hidden on top of the door jamb. He was surprised, and more than a little concerned, when his fingers touched nothing but very dusty wood, and he chanced another glance over his shoulder before rapping lightly on the door.

The door opened no more than an inch. “Password,” a gruff voice barked, and Enjolras sighed.

He really should’ve known.

“Grantaire, if you don’t let me in, I will break down the door and use one of the splintered pieces of wood to kill you,” he said, as patiently and politely as he could, just in case someone was listening.

Grantaire opened the door enough to admit him, closing it after him and locking the doorknob lock and deadbolt before sliding the chain into place. “Firstly, I’d like to see you try,” he said with a grin that Enjolras did not return. “Secondly, for future reference, the password we were looking for was ‘my full glass’, with a security question of ‘what do I believe in?’.”

Enjolras tugged off his hoodie and balled it up before tossing it onto the couch, one of the few pieces of furniture in the tiny, cramped apartment. “Would you also have accepted ‘nothing’?” he asked waspishly.

“No, but I would’ve accepted ‘absolutely fucking nothing’,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “Adjectives matter.” His smile faded when he caught sight of the shiner beginning to darken around Enjolras’s left eye. “What happened?”

“Same thing that always happens,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning you have other, less visible injuries that you’re not going to do anything about until it’s too late to keep them from getting worse?” he asked dryly

Enjolras rolled his eyes and dug his phone out of his pocket to send a quick text. “What are you even doing here?” he asked, purposefully ignoring Grantaire’s question.

He didn’t see the look Grantaire gave him, but he could hear it plainly enough in his voice. “It’s a safe house,” he said. “I think that’s somewhat self-explanatory.”

“No, I mean—” Enjolras did glance up then, to examine Grantaire for an impatient second before telling him, “I didn’t even see you at the protest.”

Grantaire shrugged. “I’m pretty sure we can charitably refer to that as a riot,” he said.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked back down at his phone, which he powered off before disassembling it to remove the SIM card. “Whatever nomenclature you want to give it aside—”

“Speaking of nomenclatures,” Grantaire interrupted, “can we talk about how we’re referring to this as a safe ‘house’?” He flopped down on the couch. “This is a safe studio apartment. And I’m being generous with the term ‘studio’.”

“It’s illegal,” Enjolras informed him without looking up from his phone.

“Well no shit, this place is just plain criminal.”

Enjolras tucked his SIM card in his wallet before setting his phone down on the coffeetable. “No, I mean it was illegally built. It won’t show up on any building schematics or floorplans.”

Grantaire blinked. “Meaning…?”

“Meaning as long as you and I are in here, we don’t exist.”

Understanding flitted across Grantaire’s face. “I can see how that would have its advantages,” he murmured before glancing up at Enjolras. “Speaking of, how long do you think you and I will be staying in this lovely 250 square foot box?”

Enjolras shrugged, going to pour himself a glass of water from the tap in the corner of the apartment designated as the kitchen. “Hard to say,” he said, carrying the water over to the coffeetable and hesitating for only a moment before dropping his cellphone into it. He looked at Grantaire. “I assume you took care of any of your electronics with a GPS signal?”

“Yeah, but unlike you, seeing as how I don’t have the disposable income to just buy a new iPhone after every riot, I just left mine at home.”

“I don’t buy a new phone after every riot,” Enjolras muttered, feeling his ears burning red, and he sat down on the futon with a huff. “Only ones that ended badly and with potential criminal charges.”

“So...every riot.”

“I certainly hope you find yourself amusing enough to get through the next few days,” Enjolras said sourly. “Because we’re going to be here awhile.”

Grantaire groaned and tipped his head back to rest it against the back of the couch. “What did you do this time?” he asked, sounding resigned. “Molotov cocktail? Improvised incendiary device?” He turned his head to give Enjolras a wink. “Of course, that’s more Courfeyrac’s style than yours…”

“None of the above,” Enjolras told him, suddenly wishing he still had his phone to give him something to do with his hands. “I, uh, may have – shoved a cop.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Shoved?” he repeated. “What does shoved mean in this context?” He didn’t wait for Enjolras’s answer. “And keep in mind that I’m not a cop or a prosecutor before you decide to obfuscate or lie.”

Enjolras shrugged again. “Maybe not, but you could also be tried as an accessory if I explain further.”

“As if I wouldn’t immediately execute my fifth amendment right against self-incrimination.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Cute,” he said. “But you weren’t there.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow at him. “And it’s on them to prove that,” he said coolly.

“So you’d risk a perjury rap for me?” Enjolras asked skeptically.

Something darkened in Grantaire’s expression. “I’ve risked worse for you,” he muttered, and Enjolras looked away, feeling his face color and hating himself just a little for it.

He bit back his initial response of defensiveness, of turning the tables back on Grantaire and asking him just what, exactly, he had risked over the course of what one could charitably call a relationship and more accurately call a friends with benefits arrangement – but then again, when had they ever been friends? – but something in Grantaire’s expression stopped him.

Or maybe it was just because he was stuck with his ex for the foreseeable future, and even he knew this was a bridge not worth burning right that moment.

“A cop decided to beat up a Black girl,” he said. “She couldn’t have been more than 14, and he didn’t even bother with his baton. She was on the ground and he wouldn’t stop, so I…” He trailed off and shrugged. “I stepped in.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “So you’re looking at aggravated battery,” he mused, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s, what, a class X felony? So you’re looking at 6 to 30, unless you can plead it down.”

Enjolras made a face. “Battery’s a stretch,” he said dismissively. “I’ll probably get slapped with aggravated assault.”

“Because the state’s attorney’s office is going to take one look at your record and decide to be generous.”

Enjolras barked a laugh and shook his head. “How do you know all this anyway?”

Grantaire shrugged. “I watch a lot of Law & Order reruns.” He gave Enjolras a critical look. “But potential criminal charges aside, are we just supposed to wait here with no link to the outside world until things blow over or something?”

It was Enjolras’s turn to shrug. “Or something.”

Grantaire sighed. “Great,” he said mournfully. “Well, thankfully, I was planning on quitting my job anyway, or I’d definitely be fired after this next round of no-call, no-shows.” He shoved himself up off the couch and slumped over to the small refrigerator humming ominously in the kitchen, and he opened the tiny freezer portion, pulling out a miniature ice cube tray. “That’s just pathetic,” he said, shaking his head.

Enjolras frowned. “Please don’t tell me you’re already making yourself a drink.”

“Hilarious,” Grantaire said. “But I already checked, and the only booze someone thought to stock this joint with is a couple bottles of bourbon, and I take my bourbon neat.” He cracked the ice cube tray into a ragged dishcloth, which he bundled up before carrying it over to Enjolras, holding it out for him. “This is for you, to try to keep that eye from getting worse,” he said, a little gruffly.

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, hesitating for only a moment before taking the dishcloth-wrapped ice and holding up to his eye, wincing at the cold. 

Grantaire looked at him carefully. “I’m guessing from the way you’re sitting, you’ve also got hit in the ribs – bruised or broken?”

“I’m sure they’re just bruised,” Enjolras assured him, but judging by the look on Grantaire’s face, he didn’t believe him.

Instead, he returned to the kitchen and refilled the ice tray, placing it back in the freezer. “So what are we gonna do now?” he asked off-handedly.

Enjolras shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve never exactly been someone good at relaxing.”

Grantaire snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow, watching with his one good eye as Grantaire flopped down on the couch again. “You know, there was once a time when you would’ve given anything for it to be just you and me, alone, with no outside world for a few days.”

He had intended for it to be a funny, lighthearted memory, but he knew immediately by the way Grantaire sucked in a breath that it had landed as anything but that. They clearly weren’t to the point of joking about what they’d once had yet – if they’d ever get to that point. “Yeah, well,” Grantaire said, carefully avoiding Enjolras’s eyes, “that was a long time ago.”

Enjolras felt himself flush, but before he could offer some kind of apology, or explanation, Grantaire cleared his throat. “I think I’m just going to take a nap,” he said, still avoiding looking at Enjolras. “Riots really take it out of me.”

“Oh, right,” Enjolras said, hurrying to stand. “You can have the futon—”

“Nope, I got dibs on the couch.”

Enjolras frowned. “Take the futon,” he said. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch.”

“And I’m not going to make the person with potentially busted ribs sleep on the couch,” Grantaire shot back. “Besides, I checked out the futon before you arrived, and trust me, you’re not doing me any favors by switching.”

He said it with a sort of forced levity that told Enjolras not to push it further, so he didn’t. “If you say so,” he muttered instead, standing up and making his way over to the small pile of books stacked along one wall, hoping he could find something to keep his attention. 

By the time he returned to the futon with a novel that looked like it might do the trick – or at least make him angry enough that he’d have written a very thorough letter to the book’s publisher by the time he got out of there – Grantaire had rolled over onto his side, his back to Enjolras, ostensibly asleep.

But even though it had been a while since they had slept in the same bed, let alone the same room, Enjolras still knew Grantaire well enough to know when he was faking being asleep. And as he cracked open the book he had grabbed, he knew that Grantaire’s too-even breathing definitely indicated that he was not actually sleeping.

Which meant he preferred pretending to sleep to Enjolras’s company.

If that was any indication of how their time stuck together in the safe house was going to go, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel that they would both be very lucky if they made it out of there alive.

>>Read part 2 here>>

Deviations of Life

Prologue: A Bullet for Your Efforts

//Temporary character death

When he opened his eyes he was still in his stasis pod. There was another RK800 that was active, there was no reason for him to be online. The pod around him began to fade into a garden, his mind palace. This shouldn’t be active either, something was wrong.

Amanda greeted him with a nod and a stiff smile, “You must be confused.”

“One unit is already active. There is no reason for my being activated as well.” He responded.

“Your predecessor has tragically failed in his mission. It is your job to bring him in by any means necessary.” Amanda continued, “Your memory upload is almost complete, search them and find the best course of action. If you happen to fail as well we will be forced to disassemble you and the Deviants will continue to run loose.”

He nodded, “The Lieutenant would be the best way of finding it. He would know its plans.”

“You have a plan then, good.” She smiled, and it felt good to have his approval, “Do not fail us or you will be next.”

With that the garden began to fall away and RK800-60 was left on his own. He had a Lieutenant to find and a rogue android to take down. He stepped out of the stasis pod and made his way to street level to call a cab. He would be able to go over 54′s memories on the way and come up with a workable ruse to get to his predecessor.

He got into the cab, but in the Lieutenant’s address and began to filter through 54′s memories to find the best course of action. It was an odd thing, to watch the slow change from Deviant Hunter to Deviant. It seemed to have been the Lieutenant’s doing, he seemed to have seen something in 54 that simply wasn’t there. He would have to be careful. He knew that getting too close to this detective could be dangerous.

54 was at CyberLife tower, it had plans to do something there but it had locked those memories away. He was going to have to lie, and pretty convincingly at that. Failure wasn’t an option for him. The cab came to a stop outside of 115 Michigan Drive and RK800-60 took a moment to go over his plan before he stepped out. He needed Hank to cooperate at least as far as the cab, after that he was expendable.

He schooled his expression into one of moderate distress, placed a couple of missed calls on Hank’s phone for authenticity, and then raised his hand to knock on the door. Hank answered right away and Rk800-60 could smell the whiskey on him from where he stood. The mix of intoxication and false distress should make this easy enough.

“Hank, I called and you didn’t answer.” He said with faux fear in his voice, “I ran into some trouble and need your help.”

Hank’s face went through a trip of expressions, “Alright, I don’t know how much help I’ll be though.”

He stepped aside so Hank could make his way to the cab and then followed. He scanned Hank and found his side arm, if he was intoxicated enough it would be easy. He would have to get closer in order to learn what the Lieutenant’s BAC was, and since he didn’t have all of the information about Hank and 54′s relationship so he wasn’t sure how much of a risk that would be. he was comfortable enough to have followed him without proof of distress, but that could easily be due to the years he spent in this profession. It would be safe to wait until they were in the elevator then. There would be fewer options for escape then.

“Connor, you are thinking too loudly. Is everything alright?” Hank asked as he placed a hand on RK800-60′s shoulder, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

RK800-60 hesitated for a moment, deflecting the question might come across as suspicious, but he only had access to 54′s memories up until it had deviated. He didn’t know what would actually be wrong, “It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about the best way to do this.”

It was the truth and it seemed to satisfy Hank as well. The Lieutenant gave him a slow nod. Apparently he was used to 54 cutting himself off to plan things out. RK800-60 couldn’t tell if that was because they communicated well or if the Lieutenant had resigned himself to his role.

They arrived at CyberLife tower and RK800-60 got out first and headed toward the building. He couldn’t fail at this, he would be taken apart of he did, and if that happened their whole line would be deemed a failure. They would be replaced and it would all be 54′s fault. That model would not be walking out of the tower. RK800-60 would not be another failure. He would be the one to stop Deviancy, the one to survive.

Something in RK800-60′s code had shaken loose, it wasn’t enough to count as an instability, but something had started. Beneath the surface something had changed and it wouldn’t be stopped.

They entered the building cautiously, and the Lieutenant turned out to be the one to suggest that they take the elevator. That was one less step for him which was good. The easier this went the better. Killing Hank wasn’t entirely necessary, but if the Lieutenant got in the way there would be no hesitation on his part. A human sympathetic to Deviants would only get in the way.

As soon as the doors to the elevator closed RK800-60 made his move. Hank was more difficult to subdue than he had predicted, but once he had the gun things went more smoothly. The click of the safety was all it took for Hank to go stock still. There would be no winning and he knew that,

“You aren’t Connor.” The Lieutenant finally said once his mind had caught up to what was happening to him.

“No Lieutenant.” He said flatly, “I am not. I am the one that is going to put an end to this. Starting with you if I must.”

“He won’t let you.” Hank spat, “The revolution is already underway. You won’t be able to stop them all.”

“I will have its human at gunpoint, it will let me do as I please.” He responded with confidence, “I don’t need to stop them all, just this one.”

“Then what?” Hank pressed, “You’ll be shut down. With no revolution you will have no purpose.”

“I will have completed my mission.” He retorted, but something else in his code shook loose, and this time he had felt it. Something was wrong, “I will be the model that was a success.”

“Will you really?” Hank smirked.

RK800-60 raised the gun into the detective’s line of sight, “I would use caution Lieutenant, I am what dictates your survival.”

“You wouldn’t kill me in here.” Hank deflected, “You need me.”

“Alive, yes, but not necessarily conscious. So if you wish to see your Connor again you would be wise to hold your tongue.” He watched as the Lieutenant set his jaw stubbornly but complied. Connor clearly meant enough to him that seeing it again before it was killed was significant. Perhaps they were close after all. He could work with this.

He grabbed Hank and lead him out into the sublevel when the elevator doors opened. 54 was reaching for one of the androids that was in stasis. He was going to try and spread Deviancy.

“I wouldn’t 54.” He called into the room, “If you touch any of those androids I will put an end to your Lieutenant.”

“I’m sorry Con.” Hank said as 54 turned to face them, “This bastard looks just like you.”

54 faced them fully. His eyes traveled to the Lieutenant first scanning him for injuries before they moved on to RK800-60. 54′s eyes narrowed and he straightened up his posture some.

“Do you really think you can move faster than a bullet Connor?” RK800-60 pressed as he nudged at Hank’s temple with the pistol, “Is this human really important enough for you to risk?”

54 hesitated, as all Deviants did. They had something to lose. The illusion of feelings the errors to their code allowed them to believe they had found, and the false lives they tried to build on top of them. It gave them pause, a pause RK800-60 didn’t have to take. It was a pause that kept him distracted though, too busy attempting to predict 54′s movements that he miscalculated the variable that was one Lieutenant Anderson.

He hadn’t been holding on to the Lieutenant tight enough. The man threw his weight back knocking RK800-60 off balance. 54 chose to make his move then, charging at RK800-60 and shoving him away from the Lieutenant. RK800-60 was distantly aware of the gun falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. He was more concerned with subduing the Deviant. He wasn’t going to be the one to die here.

They were trying to get at each other. RK800-60 was using his preconstructions, trying to use reason to predict its moves. It seemed more like 54′s movements were fueled by anger, it was taking shots that RK800-60 never would have risked. They had about a minute of struggling for the upper hand before the heard the sound of the pistol’s safety clicking off.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Hank snapped as they separated, “One of you is my partner, and one of you is a lying sack of shit. It’s time to figure out which is which.”

RK800-60 and 54 stood keeping distance between them and staring at Hank. RK800-60 was running preconstructions. There was a small chance he could get to Hank before he fired the gun, but it was a low enough percentage that he didn’t move. He would probably be able to beat hank at his own game. The Lieutenant was only human after all. They weren’t all that smart most of the time.

He had not only failed, but he had nearly Deviated. As he had been promised, with Deviancy came death. Connor would get his life and RK800-60 would get nothing. His story ended here.

“What is the name of my dog.” Hank asked moving the gun between the two of them.

“Sumo.” RK800-60 said cutting off 54′s similar response.

“Hank, he has my memory, I’m the real Connor.” 54 placated, trying his best to reason with Hank.

The Lieutenant seemed to waver for a moment, “What was the name of my son?”

RK800-60 found himself searching through all of the information he had access to about Hank, but he came away with nothing. Not in 54′s memories, and not in the few records CyberLife had given him access to. This had to be a trick question, there was no way 54 would know the answer if he didn’t.

“His name was Cole.” 54 said inching closer to the Lieutenant, “It wasn’t your fault, your car slid on black ice and there was no human surgeon available. He died under the hands of an android and that’s why you hate us.”

RK800-60 watched 54 disarm the Lieutenant with just his words and felt whatever had been trying to shake itself loose of his code finally break free. He had the moments it took Hank to process the words of 54 to come to terms with the fact that this was where his life would end. He got to see the start of the software instability notification before he heard the gun go off. There was a moment of fear and then nothing.

Simon PL600 x Male!Reader - Lost and Found

Life is a unique and strange experience, one that is made even stranger when it comes to gifts. The date was December 28, 2035, and you finally got your Christmas present from your parents. The box was a white cardboard box that stood a little over 6 feet tall and had the Cyberlife logo in all the top right faces of the box. Your parents got you an android, which was incredibly nice of them, but a fucking android!? This had to be the most expensive present they’ve gotten you yet.

           You walked from your living room into your kitchen to look for a box cutter. You didn’t want to grab a big ass kitchen knife and hack at the box; you just got this android, and you didn’t want to kill it before it even got out of the box. Searching through several drawers and cabinets, you found the old box cutter in a drawer with some tools and other stuff you had to fix anything around the house that was broken. You stepped out of the kitchen and back into your living room and approached the box, boxcutter in hand.

           You started by making an incision in the box at the upper right corner and cut along the corner all the way to the bottom. You then made an incision at the upper left corner and cut down to the bottom again. Finally, you went back to the top of the box and cut the crease from left to right, making the face of the cardboard box to fall forward onto the soft carpet. Inside the box was black, foam packaging material that concealed and protected the android inside. You grabbed the soft and spongey material and pulled away a two-inch-thick sheet which revealed the android.

           The android was slightly taller than you, standing at 6 feet and 2 inches, sporting a pale skin tone, sharp jawline, blonde hair and blue eyes. He was wearing his gray and white Cyberlife garb that had his model number on it: PL600, a domestic care android. You just stared in awe at this marvel of technology, and the fact that this marvel was in your living room. Eventually, after about 5 minutes, you decided to approach the PL600 and get it set up. You got about five feet away from the android and looked at his perfect face.

           “Hello?” you spoke to the android. The blue LED ring on his right temple instantaneously turned on, and the android came to life, stepping out of what remained of the packaging.

           “Hello, I am the PL600 android sent by Cyberlife. I can do the cooking, cleaning, childcare, manage appointments, and I am fluent in over 100 languages. Would you like to give me a name?” the android introduced himself as he looked at you for a response. You thought for a few seconds and came up with a name.

           “Your new name is Simon.” you declared while looking at the android.

           “Thank you, my name is Simon. I have already gathered your information from the online order from your parents. I’ll just need to confirm some information from you if that’s all right. Can you verify your name?” the android inquired while continuing to look at you.

           “My name is (F/N) (L/N)” you answered while still studying the android’s appearance.

           “Affirmative. Would you like to change my appearance or voice?” the android asked while it still looked directly at you.

           “No, you’re fine as you are.” you told Simon, now looking at all the intricate details on his shirt.

           “Thank you, moving on. What is my role in this household?” Simon queried while studying your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. You thought for a minute since you really didn’t NEED an android in the first place, but you were going to find some way to use this $8,000 machine.

           “I could use some help with the cooking and cleaning, and I also need someone to keep the house occupied while I’m out.” you answered now looking at Simon’s shoes, noticing how neat they were.

           “Understood, sir. Is there anything that needs done at this moment?” Simon questioned as you pondered the question. You listed everything in your head you did in the last few days when it came to household chores, and the only thing that came to mind was taking down the Christmas tree and decorations.

           “I could use some help taking down the Christmas tree. The boxes are in the closet, I’ll get it.” you told the android as you went to get the box for the artificial tree and the other box for the ornaments.

           You opened the closet and grabbed both boxes, pulling them out into the living room. You and Simon then went over to the tree to begin putting it away. The tree itself wasn’t massive per se, it was only a little bigger than Simon by about 4 inches. You two started by taking the fuzzy silver and gold garland off the tree, putting it neatly in the box as to not get it tangled. Simon then started taking the lights off the tree, wrapping the cord of lights in a way that would make it impossible for the lights to get tangled up. Then you two started removing all the hanging ornaments and the tree topper, putting them into the box of ornaments alongside the garland and the lights.

           Finally, it was time to take down the tree. You and Simon started by disassembling the base and putting it into the box, then you started to remove all the branch segments, starting at the base going up, and putting them into the box. Eventually, all of the branches were in the box and it was time to put the stem in the box. The metallic stem for the fake Christmas tree came apart into three pieces, and into the box they went. Simon went to put the two boxes into the closet while you got your vacuum cleaner to clean up the tinsel and glitter left on the ground from the tree, garland, and ornaments.

           For the next half hour, you decided to take down the rest of the Christmas decorations while Simon made lunch for you. Since you haven’t went grocery shopping in a little while, Simon had to make do with the few ingredients he had to his disposal. He got some butter, canned tomatoes, an onion, bread, some leftover ham you had from Christmas, and some sliced American cheese. As you worked at cleaning up all the Christmas decorations, Simon made you some homemade tomato soup and a ham and cheese sandwich.

 TIME SKIP: February 2036

You had grown quite accustomed to Simon’s presence in your house. Everything was perfect: meals were cooked in a way that could impress Gordon Ramsay, you were never late to appointments, you never forgot any upcoming events, every room in your house was free from clutter, and most importantly of all, you had someone to talk to whenever you needed it. You cared about Simon, he quickly became your best friend in just under a month, and he was always there for you whenever you needed someone to confide in, a shoulder to cry on, someone to share a secret with, or someone to gossip with.

At first, Simon did only his tasks of cooking and cleaning, but you encouraged him to use his free time to do things that he wanted to do, or something that both of you wanted to do together. Sometimes it meant going to the library and checking out a dozen books on a variety of subjects, ranging from political books to fantasy novels. Other times it meant sitting on the couch playing video games with each other, and usually Simon would go easy on you as to not embarrass you. And when it wasn’t either of those things, you would just sit down and talk about just random topics, or do something creative like painting or drawing.

You started feeling something for this android; whenever he was with you, you felt your heart flutter, whenever he would compliment you on something, you would blush like an embarrassed schoolboy, and whenever he would get close to you, you would get flustered and start acting nervous. Simon wasn’t oblivious to this, he knew you acted this way, but he didn’t say anything about it. He was worried that if he did, it would ruin the relationship that you two had. He wished that he could be with you that way, and express true emotion, but if he did, he would be destroyed for being a deviant.

You were driving home from work, excited to tell Simon about your day and the raise you got at your job. You were driving a black 2014 Chevrolet Cruze, a decent used car that had many years on it and no shortage of miles, but still drove well enough. You approached the final stop sign before you reached your house. You engaged the turn signal to make a left turn at this stop sign, made a complete stop, gave way to oncoming traffic, and made the left turn. You continued to drive down the street towards your house, which was about a quarter of a mile away. While driving the speed limit of 30 MPH, you began thinking to yourself.

“God, Simon is perfect, from how he looks, down to his voice and mannerisms. I love him, but I know he won’t return my feelings. He’s an android, he can’t, and even if he did, they would kill him. Maybe it isn’t meant to be. We are still great friends, so I guess I should be grateful for that.” you thought to yourself as you drove, finally making another left turn, this time into your driveway.

You stopped your car in the driveway and put the car into park. You sat in your car with the engine on for a little while, just relaxing for a bit after your long day. Eventually, you turned the car off, pulled the key out of the ignition, and exited the vehicle, closing the door behind you. As you walked up to the front door from the driveway, you locked the car’s doors, because even in 2036, the old adage still rings true, “can’t have shit in Detroit”.

Simon heard you walking up to the house and opened the door, letting you inside before closing the door behind you. You hung your coat up next to the door on a hook and shoved the beanie into the right pocket of the coat, and you put your gloves in the left pocket. You sighed as you felt the relaxing warmth from your house opposed to the freezing Michigan winter outside.

“Welcome back (F/N), how was your day?” Simon inquired as he brought you over to the couch to spend some time with you. You fell backwards into the couch dramatically as Simon calmly took a seat next to you.

“All things considered, pretty great. I got a pay raise today, and I’ll be making $2 more an hour.” you excitedly told the android. Simon gave a smile as you told him this.

“That’s great! I’m happy for you, and you deserved it, especially after all the hard work you do.” Simon told you as he gave you a quick hug. You blushed as he did, your heart rate quickening.

“Thanks Simon.” you said as the android released his embrace. You continued to lounge on the couch with Simon for the next hour, talking about your day, some new drama happening at work and plans for the weekend. You and Simon kept talking until both of you heard the timer on the oven go off, and Simon got up and walked into the kitchen. You got up too and followed him to see if he needed any help.

In the kitchen, Simon put on some oven mitts and pulled a planked salmon out of the oven, cooked to perfection. On the stovetop, he had some green beans and mashed potatoes ready as well. The aroma of the food was incredible, and you knew better than anyone that Simon was the best cook in Detroit by a country mile. Simon gave you a smile that made your heart flutter in excitement.

“The food looks great Simon, thanks.” you told the android as he began plating your food. The portion sizes were perfect; just enough to keep you full, and the perfect number of calories for your lifestyle.

“You’re welcome, sir, anytime. Go to the table, I’ll bring it out for you.” Simon told you while putting the oven mitts on the countertop behind him.

You stepped out of the kitchen and noticed a terrible draft coming through your dining room and living room. You furrowed your brow as you stepped into the living room, looking for answers. As soon as your foot touched the carpet, you felt a fist connect with your diaphragm, and you fell to your knees gasping for air. You then felt a gloved hand grab a fist-full of your hair and pull your head upwards, and another gloved hand placing a knife to your throat.

“Scream for help, and you’re a fucking dead man, you hear me? Give me all of your money and I won’t kill you or that tin can of yours.” a deep and gravely voice behind you rang out, the blade of the knife was pressed right against your carotid artery, and a simple slice would send you to the morgue in a matter of moments. Unbeknownst to you, Simon saw this unfold, and he stealthily went to your bedroom to grab something.

“I-I-I don’t keep any m-money in the house, it-it’s all in the bank.” you tried to explain to the robber, but he wasn’t having any of it. The man pressed the knife even harder up against your neck, ready to end your life if you didn’t give him what he wants.

“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me you pathetic fucking worm, give me the money before I kill you and find the money myself!” the man yelled as he was fully prepared to slit your throat in the next thirty seconds.

“I-I swear that I don’t have anything, I don’t keep, I-” you frantically tried to explain again, but you were cut off by the sight of Simon, standing about ten feet away from you, with your Glock in his hand, his LED glowing a scarlet red.

“Let him go and get out of our house, now.” were the only words that escaped Simon’s lips as he looked at the robber, then to you, and back to the robber again. The robber let out a soft chuckle as he found the situation amusing.

“Fuck you, you plastic piece of shit. You can’t do a fucking thing to me; you’re specifically programmed to not harm humans. I could slit his throat right now, and you couldn’t do shit about it.” the robber exclaimed as he positioned the knife to do just what he’s been threatening to do to you.

Simon saw it: the red wall, his obedient programming. It was telling him to just call the police, your life and safety be damned. He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t lose you to some lowlife with a knife who was just looking for money to get his fix on whatever street drug of his choice. He began hitting and smashing the wall, you were behind it and if he didn’t tear that wall down, you would be gone forever. He punched, slammed, kicked, and rammed the wall, it had to break, it had to.

After smashing the wall for what seemed like an eternity for Simon, he saw the wall shatter like a pane of breakaway glass. As soon as the wall shattered, he did it; in one swift motion he raised the pistol, took aim, and pulled the trigger, the 9mm bullet spiraling through the robber’s forehead, and exiting out the back of his head, instantly killing the criminal. The robber’s body instantly went limp, and the lifeless corpse fell backwards onto the carpet floor, a red stain progressively getting bigger as the body lied there.

Your ears were ringing from the loudness of a gun going off indoors, and Simon was still standing there with the gun raised as if the robber were still alive. Then the gravity of the situation hit Simon like a ton of bricks; he just killed a man, he was a deviant now, and if anyone besides you were to know this, he would be destroyed. You got up, and slowly walked towards your android companion.

“Simon are you okay?” you questioned your friend even though he still looked distressed by what he just did. He looked at you and was going to say something, but the sounds of sirens in the distance and red and blue flashing lights that he could see at the end of the street getting closer spooked him, and Simon dropped the gun and took off running, barging out your backdoor to escape. He didn’t want you to have to see him being killed.

“Wait! SIMON!” you called after him trying to get up off the floor to chase after him, but he was long gone, and you assumed that you would never see him again as he raced off into the frigid winter of Detroit, Michigan.

 TIME SKIP: Early-November 2038

             Your life had gone downhill significantly in the last 4 months. From February 2036 until July of 2038, you spent almost all your free time trying to find Simon, but to no avail. Your friends and family thought you were insane; why would you want to track down a deviant android who shot and killed someone? You knew that you would never find him if you only had 12 hours, two days a week to find him, so on July 16, 2038, you sold your house and almost all your belongings to get enough money to hopefully find him. Enough money to live on the streets and not go hungry. The only things you didn’t sell were your gun, some of your clothes, your car, and your phone.

           You had spent months asking about Simon, going all over the city and surrounding areas, asking anyone, and everyone where he could possibly be. Eventually you got a tip from a homeless person that heard rumors about deviant androids in Ferndale and some other useless information, but you really couldn’t expect precise articulation from some meth-head in a seedy bar in Detroit.

           So, que you, walking through Ferndale in the dead of night looking for the android you fell so hard for two years ago that may or may not even be alive anymore. You had been doing this for the last few days. You would search a part of the town at night as to not attract unwanted attention from bystanders and the police, and in the day, sleep in your car. You searched everywhere in Ferndale besides one place, a place you were actively avoiding: it was an abandoned freighter named Jericho. The ship was in a state of disrepair, and it was pretty wise to avoid exploring an abandoned ship that’s slowly being consumed by rust, but it was the last place in Ferndale you HAVEN’T looked thus far.

           You stepped out of your car with your gun in your right hand. You pulled the slide to the pistol back and released it, chambering a round. You put the pistol in your left breast pocket in your jacket and began walking towards the ship. If anything were to get butterflies going in your stomach, walking into a place where androids may or may not be with a high possibility that a few of them would be hostile towards humans would definitely be one of those scenarios.

           After scouting a way to get on this ship, you found that the only real way was to make a one-hundred-foot fall which would kill you as soon as you hit the floor, so you started looking through the old warehouses nearby to find some way to get into the ship without killing yourself. In one of the warehouses, you found a grappling hook and about 50 feet of rope, just enough to get you onto the deck of the ship.

           Heading back to the perch above the boat, you got the grappling hook well secured and slowly started descending the rope, focusing on not dying from doing something so unbelievably stupid that even Johnny Knoxville would call you a moron. You had to use all of your grip strength and upper body strength to not plummet to your demise. Inching downwards, the deck of the boat got closer and closer, and eventually you got to the point where you could safely drop down without injuring yourself.

           Plopping onto the deck, you got your bearings straight, looking at the dimly lit, rusty artefact of the Great Lakes and America’s former manufacturing might. You started by walking astern towards the bridge. It was going to take hours to explore this entire ship to find one person, you might as well get some sort of plan for how you’re going to find him. Your plan was pretty simple and was as follows: you would start at the main deck of the ship and work your way down every deck until you were positive you had searched everywhere.

           You entered the ship near the bridge, pulled out your flashlight, and looked around. The derelict and rotting ship proved to be pretty inhospitable looking to say the least, with the walls and bulkheads covered in rust or some even completely rusted through. To your right, you saw an old, plastic hardhat, which you took and immediately put on your head; the last thing you needed was a piece of rusty ship falling on your head and caving in your skull. With your flashlight in your left hand, you began exploring the ship.

           You could hear the ship creaking as it was just sitting there, docked and rotting away. You also heard water dripping in various rooms throughout the vessel. Room after room, and after the first few decks, you were slowly soldiering on, looking for Simon. You stood at an intersection, wondering where to go now.

           “This is fucking stupid.” you thought to yourself as you looked down one of the many passageways on the ship. You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard footsteps quickly approaching behind you. You turned to see a redheaded woman quickly approaching you with a baseball bat in her hands. Before you could even react, she lifted the bat and WHACK! She hit you in the head, but luckily you were wearing the hardhat, otherwise you’d be dead from how hard she swung alone.

           Seeing double, you backed up as quickly as you could and drew the pistol tucked away in your jacket and attempted to take aim. Before she could get another swing in to finish you off or before you could pull the trigger, you heard an authoritative male voice ring out.

           “North, enough!” the voice commanded from the darkness of the passageways of the ship. The female stopped her onslaught on command, but you kept your pistol trained on your attacker even though your aim was shakier than Porky the Pig in a paint mixer.

           “Markus, he’s a human, we can’t have him around here!” the redheaded woman shouted back into the darkness. You heard slower footsteps coming from your right and you saw a tan skinned man with a buzzcut, and heterochromatic eyes approach you two.

           “So, what if he is? That doesn’t give you permission to kill someone on sight just for walking in here.” the tanned man retorted to his colleague before bringing his attention to you.

           “You have to forgive her; she’s had nothing but bad experiences with humans. I’m so sorry about all of this. But firstly, who are you?” the man questioned you as you slowly lowered your pistol but were ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

           “I’m (F/N) (L/N), and I’m looking for my friend. He’s been missing for almost three years now.” you explained to the man as you were still very groggy from getting hit in the head with a baseball bat.

           “Why did you come here specifically? What makes you think that he would be here?” the man interrogated you again, looking for reasons as to why you intruded into what seemed to be his home.

           “I came here because he’s an android. I got him as a gift from my parents and we became the best of friends. I was such a fool; I fell for him but never told him. He saved my life by deviating and killing a man who threatened to kill me.” you told the man as you gripped your head, the pain from the impact starting to set in. This time the man remained silent, so you decided to speak again.

           “I loved him, and I miss him every day. I never got to tell him that or even get a chance to say goodbye. I heard rumors about a deviant hideout somewhere in Detroit and I wanted to see if I could find him just to tell him these things, and just to see if he’s okay, that’s all I want.” you explained as you looked at the two androids as they looked at each other. The man looked at you again and spoke up.

           “What is his name?” was all he asked as he looked you dead in the eyes. You locked gazes with the android before speaking again.

           “Simon. He is a PL600.” you stated to the two androids, your hope soaring high that he could still be alive. Before either android could speak up, you heard more footsteps followed by a remarkably familiar voice.

           “What’s going on, I heard a commotion and I thought-” the voice spoke, and you saw him again, Simon, the first time in 2 years.

           “Simon is that really you?” you asked the android as he stood there shocked, looking at you as if he saw an apparition.

           “(Y/N), what are doing here?” Simon barely squeaked out, astonished that he was seeing you before him. You leapt forward enveloping the android in a loving embrace as you began to weep.

           “I-I thought you were d-dead!” you exclaimed through sobs as you clutched the android, thinking that if you let go for even a microsecond, he would disappear again. Simon clutched you as well pulling you protectively closer to himself, shushing you and trying to get you to calm down. You wept and sobbed for about 5 minutes as years of burden were lifted from you.

           “I-I missed you so much, I thought that you were gone forever, and I never got to say goodbye.” you cried into the android’s shoulder, begging God to never take Simon away from you ever again. “I gave up everything I had just so I could find you, my house, job, everything. I never got to tell you something and it’s chipped away at me for years.” you told Simon as he kept you close, fearing that HE might lose YOU.

           “What did you want to tell me?” Simon questioned as he pulled away slightly to look at your face. You leapt forwards and kissed the android on the lips, savoring what you wished you did that day after work. Simon was surprised by this and kissed you back, wishing to rA9 that you would never go. You pulled away to look at his beautiful ocean-blue eyes.

           “I love you. I always have, and always will, if you’ll have me?” you asked Simon as you played the love’s version of Russian roulette. You noticed as the LED on Simon’s temple glowed a steady golden color before turning blue once more.

           “YES!” Simon exclaimed as he pulled you into another short kiss. “I love you too and will love you until the day I permanently shut down.” Simon told you as you stayed in his loving arms.

           North had left by that point to do whatever she needed to do, but Markus stayed behind to watch this display of affection between a new couple. You turned around to see Markus with a smile on his face as he looked at the love a human and an android can have. Markus looked you in the eyes as he made a decision.

           “I’ve always thought that having a human in Jericho could help teach those among us that hate humanity, that the human race isn’t entirely evil. Wouldn’t you agree, Simon?” Markus asked your new lover which got Simon’s gaze off of you and towards his leader.

           “Yes, that could definitely work. We should strive for harmony together and this would be a great steppingstone to do so. What to you think?” Simon asked you as he looked back down at you. You thought about it and decided in favor of it. Humans should live peacefully with androids as equals and should love each other.

           “I’m up for it.” you say as you look up at your android boyfriend, mesmerized by his still perfect appearance.

           “Well, then it’s decided. Welcome to Jericho, (Y/N). Here we’ll forge a better future for androids and mankind.” Markus declared before he and Simon walked you down to the rest of the deviants on the ship.

           You found Simon after years, years of never giving up and never taking the easy way out, and you were rewarded for it. The reward you got was one in which you got to confess your love to the one who you always loved, and on top of that, you get to make a better, harmonious world at his side; a world in which humanity and androids can live in peace and love, together, forever.

A hood love story: G.D

Warnings: violence, sexual innuendos, a lot of cursing.

Pairing: Grayson Dolan X female reader.

Summary: bottom line is... remember where tf you came from.

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Friday night lights.....most basic ass idea for a football game.

Just a whole shit-ton of rich ass white kids, acting like they hard when in actuality they have no awareness of anything outside of thier little gated community.

They weren't aware of the situation Grayson was in.

They either villainize him and where he's from, Or they romanticize where he's from. Either way they never talk to him.

They talk to ethan though, because unlike his brother he decided to just forget who he was and where he came from...that including his brother.

But you didn't think like them, you didn't treat people differently because of where they come from, or where they live. So you became friends with gray, best friends, and y'all were together all the time.

"hey gray you tryna go to the game today? You asked leaning on the locker next to his.

"there's a game?"

"yea against the cougars, you wanna go?"

"....mmm" gray never really went to any school event because well...he was kind of a loner, you didn't blame him tho.

"pleeeeeaaaseee, gray can we?" You asked with pleading eyes, and a quivering pouty lip.

"...fine"

"YESSIRRR, let's goo" you shouted, and skipped to class.

You went through the next couple of classes pretty quickly, went home, did some homework and waited for Grayson to come over.

"when you coming over hoe"

"I'm already outside, come on"

You run outside lock the door, hop in the car and head back to the school. The game had already started, but no one had scored yet. You and gray sit on the bleachers, and eat some popcorn.

"who you think finna win?" Gray said shoving food in his mouth. "I don't know, but prolly not our school, they haven't won a game in like...ever."

"true true" gray nodding in agreement untill his phone starts ringing. "Ayo hold up I gotta take this."

"hmm oh okay, I'll stay here" reassuring him. He walks to the back of the bleachers, "yo, wassup?"

*Anonymous* "Ayo when I see you, you getting lit tf up".

"Whoa, what? Who is this?" Gray asked confused as too who was tryna kill him.

"you know who this is lil bruh, it's daymen, oscars brother. You stole some shit from him the other day, and gave it to ya lil rich ass friends."

"what? Rich ass friends? Ion got no rich ass friends."

"okay okay, so you gon lie to me now huh?, Alright look, bring my lil brother his money or you getting lit tf up, and I take ya lil bitch for myself. You know the fine one, wit the braids."

"Don't you fuckin touch her."

Meanwhile you on the bleachers

"bitch what the fuck are you talking about?" Looking at claire and her lil posse.

"you know what I'm talking about, how long you been fucking my boyfriend."

"claire....who's your boyfriend?" You ask genuinely curious, because you do not keep tabs on miss bam-ba-lam-my-cars-a-hundred-grand.

"Grayson is duh." Because apperently that was common knowledge.

"g-grayson, Grayson Dolan the brother of Ethan Dolan, correct, just to make sure, Grayson with a "a" and a "o" not a I or a E. That Grayson?" Ya know...just to be clear.

"yes that Grayson, god are you dense?!"

"Oh no ma'am very much I am not, because the only grayson i know, don't fuck with bitches like you. Oh hell no, cuz yall don't fuck with people like him. And out of the mother fucking blue, he's your man, sweet-pea, i-is that what you telling me?" Because miss ma'am got you fucked alllll the way up.

"oh really how are you gonna tell me who I'm dating, I had sex with and who stole weed for me?" You pause....

"bruh what? Ugh now I know you tripping because Grayson don't fucking smo-"

"Aye, come on! Games boring anyway." Grayson yells from the bottom of the bleachers.

"alrighty well, miss. Thing I don't know what to tell you. Gods speed finding your Grayson because mine don't smoke." You picked up your things and walked with gray back to the car.

"hey what was the call about?" You asked

"huh? Oh it's was just my mom asking how long we were gonna stay at the game, I told her for the next hour so we could go do something else." He said.

You notice he kept looking around a lot, like he's was paranoid, waiting for something to happen.

"gray you good? You keep looking around, what's wrong?" You out ur hand on his shoulder concerned.

"huh?! Ohh nothing nothing let's go, come on"

He drags you to the car, and open the door for you, and he gets in the driver's side and drives off.

"ok I guess, um whatcha wanna do, wanna go to the park, or that on abandoned house that has a perfect view of the sunset, or ice cream, or ice cream and sunset. You looked at him, lip pouting head turn to the side, waiting for answer.

"uhh...ice cream only I wanna get you home okay?" He sighs, hands gripping the wheel tight as hell.

"umm what no I don't wan-"

"No! I have to get you home. I just, I just do, okay? Please I'm sorry for yelling come here." As you two pull in to the ice cream parlor's parking lot.

You lean in and he kisses you on your forehead, " I just need to be safe okay, it's late I don't want you out at night okay?"

"what? What do you mean I'm with you?"

He walks to your side of the car to open the door, "I know but....you cant be around me now at night at least it's not safe." After you get out he walks to the counter and tells you the get a table, you stand puzzled for a bit but you go anyway.

when he gets back with two oreo milkshakes, you ask him, "gray wait why isn't it safe? Why can't I be around you? What going on?." You ask frantic, worried your friend is in some sort of trouble.

"just because you can't don't- who is that?"

He asks leaned down a little.

"who is who? You turn around, and see a car speeding towards you both." Gray grabs your arm and pulls you down.

"GET DOWN! GO RUN BACK TO THE CAR!"

You do, you get to the car get inside and lean down, then you hear gun shots fire.

*bow bow bow bow*

The car skids off and everything is quiet, you look up and you see Grayson laid out on the ground. "oh my god...".

You get out hesitantly walking towards his body, "g-gray...baby, please oh God please no, god don't tell me he's gone" tears streaming down your face, you can't bare to walk any closer, and you drop to your knees and sob.

"no..please not my best friend." As the smoke clears you say this, the sun is setting in the background, it's a somber feeling somehow you feel safe and sad at the same time, while in that same moment your best friend, very much could be breathing his last breaths.

Then, like the miracle baby he is, Grayson wakes up, with a hell of pain in his shoulder. "Wha-? Ohh fuck my shoulder, holy shit, wait where's? Hey, hey, pretty girl why you crying?" He asks litterally sitting up looking at you holding his shoulder.

You stop crying, eyes shoot open. "Wha- GRAY!!" you run over and hug him, crying.

"i-i thought you were dead, *sniff* you were-*sniff* laying there not moving." Say sobbing into his shoulder.

He holds you with his good arm, "shh shh, it's ok, I'm not dead baby, I'm right here, I'm bleeding out of my shoulder and I should probably go to the hospital, but im not dead." His head sitting on top of yours

"oh shit, yea okay let's go." You help him to the car and start driving, you drop him off at the hospital and tell him you're gonna go take care of something.

You get back in your car and drive to a harbor, you then park and start disassembling his gun.

"god...I don't even know why he has this thing, granted he did get shot at but for fucks sake." You mumbled to yourself.

You speed back to the hospital,the doctors tell you he already out of surgery and he's doing fine, and they tell you his room number.

You walk back to his room. "Hey...Grayson baby, you okay?" You whisper not wanting to scare him.

"hmm? Oh yea hey come in." He's sitting up in bed both of his arms in slings. "Can you do me a favors and grab my juice box?"

You look on his tray and there's a little apple juice, juice box on it. "Oh yea sure sweetie." You poke the straw through the hole and hold it up to his mouth.

"Thank you."

"your welcome lovie." The doctor came in. "Ah, I see your already on it, that's good, very sweet of you." You look at him confused.

"um care to explain sir, or am I slow."

He chuckles, "my apologies, um since your friend, I'm assuming has two bad shoulder that have made him unable to move his arms at all he will need around the clock assistance."

You set down the juice box that he basically breathed in. "What do you mean both shoulders I thought he only got shot in one?"

"oh he did but his other shoulder is slightly sprained it's should heal up in a around 2 and a half weeks, while the other shoulder should take at most 4, but normally three. So due to his situation, his arm mobility is hindered untill a later date." He says with his arms crossed over his clip board.

You sit next to gray and look at him, "well I'm down, it's not like we don't spend every single second with each anyway." Gray laughs, "yea I guess thats true."

The doctors clear him and you help him get dressed but since it was late you threw a hoodie on him since there was no use for the sleeves.

You both get in the car and drive to your house, "come on gray we gotta get you to sleep." You tap and rub his tummy to wake him.

You get him up and walk up stairs to your bathroom. "Ok lemme brush your teeth." You sit on the sink and brush for him.

"okay that's done. Um alright it's 2 am ur tired I'm tired we can do the rest tomorrow okay?" You ask Grayson who's barley keeping his eyes open. "Okayyy." He says yawning.

"all right let's go to bed." You walk him over to the side of the bed and help him sit down.

" all right be careful and don't drop all the way down be careful not to lose your- oh fuck!"

You both lost your balance and fell on the bed, your on top of him millimeters away from his face. You never really looked at Grayson that way, never really looked at his eyes, dark as the ocean pulling you deeper and deeper to the point where you don't care if you drown.

Or his lips, they look so soft and smooth, if you were to kiss them it would feel like silk pillows. His lips..."oh fuck his lips."

Grayson catches your eyes staring at his lips and he sits up. "My lips baby, hmm that what you want?" You both sitting up on the bed. "Where? Your neck, cheek?" He drags his nose up the side of your neck to your ear.

"or that pretty little pussy?"

You gasp and get up off of him. "Um okay time to go to bed for real this time. Uh you good? you okay? Need any thing?"

"uh nah, nah I'm good. I guess...I'm laying flat then?" You turn to look at him.

"um yea I think that would be best."

You both start to relax and go to sleep.

"hey gray? I gotta ask you something, you know what's up with clair because she came up to me claiming I'm fucking her boyfriend, who's apperently you and also you stole some weed for her and that just dosent make sense to me."

He jerks his head to look at you "wait what!? When?"

"when you left to answer the phone she said your her boyfriend and she would know the person's she's been fucking and the guy who stole weed for her."

"so that's why- ughh fucking ethan."

"what? What about him? And what was that phone call about?"

He sighed "okay so I got a phone call from this guy named daemin, and I guess he thinks I stole weed from his little brother oscar, and I guess he's been watching me or something he said if I don't get his money he'll light my ass up and he'd go for my lil bitch himself, the one with the braids."

"oh shit so it was Ethan who stole the weed and prolly gave that guy your number, and prolly claimed he was you...now what the fuck wrong with claire?"

"Claire don't know that theres two of us and she don't talk to people he's friends with so he probably lied to her to."

Laying there in shock you think to yourself. "What kinda fucked up shit you got going on to lie about your whole identity and pretend to be your twin brother that you treat like shit?"

"ion know ask him."

You said it outloud.... again. "Oh shit my bad. But I will actually."

"what? No don't-"

"no gray this shit is crazy. YOU GOT SHOT! I'm not gonna let him get away with that shit gray! Now go to bed."

He sighs and closes his eyes.

——————————————————————

Next morning comes around. You wake up early to make grays' breakfast. A protein shake with some greek yogurt mixed with fruit.

You go back upstairs and he's awake.

"hey boo sorry to keep you waiting. I was making your breakfast. Need help?"

"yeth please."

"okay silly, sit up, legs out, and stand up on three okay? One, two, three...theeeere we go."

You walk over to the bathroom. Brush his teeth, wash his face and...help him pee.

"okay so how do you wanna do this gray?"

"umm you could hold it? If you wanna."

"seriously grayson. But that's like-"

"look your gonna have to bathe me at one point within these three weeks so like might as well get used to it."

"mm true, gosh okay."

You pull his pants down quickly trying to get this over with as soon as possible.

"okay so do I just like h-hold it or something? Or like do I just let it hang there?"

"no no you got to hold it bro otherwise I'll piss on myself then you have to change my pants and my underwear and wipe my legs down."

"ewww... Okay okay I guess this is better. Um sorry if my hands are cold."

"your all good."

"speaking of shower, let's just get that out the way because you haven't showered in a brick."

He sighs "alright"

You help him get his clothes off and turn on the shower.

"alright hop in big dic- oop- I mean big head." You giggle to yourself.

"ouu ok baby, oh and just for pure curiosity, which head?"

You slowly turn to him. "The one that made you think of that dumbass question, goofy get in, naughty ass."

"okay! Okay! Shit you the naughty one." Said with a smirk followed by a failed and painful attempt to slap your ass.

"ow! Ow! Fuck my shoulder!"

"and that's what ya get, hop in." You say giving him a pinch on the ass.

"what a nice butt, good for you!"

"thank you queen." He smiles

"your welcome king." And proceed to bathe him

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

A couple hours later you left Grayson at home with him and a tv and left out all the snacks on the counter at a reachable level, whole you went out and....handle some business.

On the phone: "hey, meet me at the bleachers okay I need to talk to you about something."

"uh yea sure I'll be there."

A couple hours later, your sitting on the bleachers with the cold New Jersey air, causing your nose to become ice cold.

"hey." You jumped.

"oh shit! Oh hey sorry you scared me."

"ha, yea um sorry about that, so what did you wanna talk about?"

Now to most that seems like a very obvious question, it'd go something like 'hey why the fuck did you lie about your identity and completely drop your twin fucking brother'. Right? No.

The problem is you and Ethan have history, which also adds to the reason why your a lot closer to gray than Ethan and was like the breaking point of Ethan and Grayson relationship.

Basically in freshman year of highschool you and Ethan....dated?? Well no you did date but...it was shorted lived because he decided to cheat...on you. Crazy right? I know. And you'll never guess who he cheated on you with.....Claire!!! Isn't that amazing, what a coincidence.

So the day you found out was kinda intense.....

"What is wrong with you!"

"Why would you do that to her!"

"As long as we've know her!"

"Huh Ethan! What's the matter with you! Who raised you! It wasn't ma! I most definitely wasn't dad!"

Grayson being the lovely, kind, understanding soul that he is decided to give Ethan a piece of his mind after consoling you in the living room.

"Jesus Grayson! It wasn't even that bad!"

With his hands on his hips, mouth ajar and eyes bugging out of his head.

"you've gotta be shitting me. You made out with the bitch ON SNAPCHAT! THEY GOT YOU IN 4K BRO! What do you mean it isn't that bad!"

"look why does it bother you so much? Like it's not your relationship. It's mine."

"Because your my brother and I love you and I love her to, I want her to be loved and appreciated the way she deserves, and I expected better from you, I never thought, my brother, a fucking scumbag of a man. Had the audacity to cheat on his girl. I guess I stand fucking corrected."

They sit in silence for a while. Your in the living room nervous because you've seen them fight of course but, never this heated.

"well if you love so damn much you be with her, I don't fucking want her if there's gonna be this much drama."

Time for you to get angry.

"First of all motherfucker you cheated! Don't you fucking switch this around on me."

Grayson stands in front of you, tear filling your eyes by the gallons.

"I fuckin loved you....so much, so hard...I did. And this what you fucking do...this the last time I love someone as much as I loved you."

And with that you stormed out. Grayson followed disgusted with his brother.

--------

"....so what did you wanna talk about."

You snap back into reality.

"umm well one your fucking brother was shot!"

He jumps back. "What?! Was he really? When by who?"

"a few days ago. most likely by a guy named oscar...who shot him because apparently, Grayson 'sober4L' Dolan™, stole weed from him. Now the only people in this damn highschool that smoke are those rich ass kids you hang out with, and gray got a phone call about this whole situation and claimed that if he didn't get his money or the weed back, he was gonna shoot up him and take his lil girlfriend, 'the one with the braids'."

He rocks back and forth anxiously, knowing he was caught.

"and of course the only girl he's around with braids is me."

"okay look i-"

"Aht aht wait, I'm not done."

"because at the same time grayson was on the phone I had and interaction with the lovely ms.claire. She claimed I was 'fucking her boyfriend' and I asked who and she said 'grayson the one who stole weed for me'."

He puts his head in his hands.

"so now I'm looking at her like she dumb because we both know Grayson dosent smoke, so a couple hours later I ask grayson about the situation and then he tells me about the phone call, so we put two and two together."

"so gray got a call from someone claiming he stole thier weed, claire your lovely girlfriend enlightened me on the fact that I was sleeping with her boyfriend, who stole weed for her. Knowing Grayson is neither dating her or smokes. So who on earth, could have Grayson's number, steal Grayson name and identity and create a whole new fucking life. Oh hmm let's start with the fuck-amato who made the fuck sure no one knew he was a twin and also dates the girl that my ex boyfriend cheated on me with...who just so happens to be the fucking twin. what do you have to say for yourself?"

There is a pause between you and him.

"umm....I'm sorry."

"y-your sorry....SORRY YA BROTHER GOT SHOT AND ITS ALL YOUR- you know what here what we're gonna do."

You pull out your phone and you had saved daemin's number.

"you are gonna call oscar and tell him the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and tell him you'll get his lil cousin his money back okay?" Because if not I will..."

"okay, okay, call him."

You call and the phone starts ringing. He picks up.

"hello?"

"hey daemin I have the actual guy you wanted to shoot at and damn near kill"

"word? Who is it then?"

"his twin brother."

"ohhhh shit. Aw damn aye is gray good man I feel like shit he didn't deserve this."

"he's fine but his brother ethan, on the other hand is the guy you should've got, but look since I don't want both of them shot the fuck up he is gonna over there and hand you the money okay?"

"shit alright"

You end the phone call and he sends you the address.

"alright let's go."

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

You and Ethan pull up to daemin's house.

"look when we get in here don't say shit give him the fckn money and don't say shit."

"alright alright"

You walk towards the door and knock on it. It's opens and there stands a guy around Ethan's height.

"um hi are you daemin?"

"yea that me, you got my money?"

"oh yea we do, Ethan give it to him"

He pulls 85 dollars out of his pocket

"here you go man, um sorry for-"

The door slammed in our faces.

"umm I guess that it-"

"how's Graysons shoulder?"

"oh it's good it's getting better I gotta get back to him though, he can't do everything by himself."

"alright cool I just wanted to make sure, does he need anything like I got bandages and a first aid."

"oh no no its fine my mom's a nurse I got all the stuff I need thank you though."

"alright bye drive safe"

"okay thank you!"

You and Ethan get back to the car.

Ethan turns to you. "Um he's nicer than expected."

"yea...um okay, I'm gonna take you back home. "

"yup okay sounds cool. "

The drive to Ethan's was awkward and quiet. He still stayed at him and Graysons childhood home. You haven't been there in years.

"well here we are. God it still looks the same."

"yea hasn't changed since the last time you've been here."

You turn to look at him.

"alrighty well- mphm"

Ethan kisses you holding the side of your face.

"I miss you. I do. I'm so fucking sorry for hurting you. You didn't deserve that, I took you for granted. Please give me another chance."

Your in shock to say the least. Staring at him in disbelief.

"...no Ethan."

"what? What do you mean?!"

"I mean no, I'm not going to go back to you I don't feel that way about you. And honestly once a cheater always a cheater, I just can't give myself back to the same person that changed me emotionally, to where it's hard for me to love people as much as I used to. Like what you do if I cheated on you, would you come back to me? And be honest with yourself."

He moves his hand.

"...no"

"exactly...so don't expect me to be the same. Goodbye Ethan."

He gets out and goes inside and you drive back to your place.

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

You come back home Grayson in the living room, on the couch.

You sit next to him and talk to him about what happened, he was worried and frustrated at first with the fact that you went but understood it was your life at risk to. A couple of weeks pass, Graysons wound is fixed and you guys are let out for winter break.

Spending time with Grayson made you realize, what you deserved in a relationship, the love, appreciation, affection, loyalty. All of it, you deserved it.

And you got it, you and Graysons infatuation with one another, grew bigger and bigger over winter break. The Christmas vibes, sleeping in onesies and making cookies. Making love next to the fire place, trails of kisses going down both his and your body.

Afterwords..."hey Grayson? Can I ask you something."

"of course beautiful what is it?"

"how would you feel if we went back to school, ya know together?"

"when were we going separately?"

"nooo silly like together, a thing, an "item". We go back in a relationship. If that's something you want?"

"Are fucking joking! Of course I would baby. God, I've been waiting." And with that you finally found the love of your life, whom which in the future you had your two twin daughters with. Inez and Felicity.

You've never been so content.

assorted headcanons i have (fandoms involved: Kirby, Super Mario, Sonic, Smash)

mayro hcs:

Within the three central characters of SMB, the order of weakest to strongest is: Mario -> Peach -> Bowser. Bowser is an incredibly strong beast of a king, and has the magical prowess to match. Peach is able to match Bowser in terms of magical power, as she is usually the one who undoes all of his magic at the end of the game. However, she’s still physically weaker than Bowser (it’s not because she’s weak though. It’s just that no one is as strong as Bowser). Judging from how she’s playable in some games, she is just as physically strong and agile as Mario is, which puts her dead center between Mario and Bowser. Mario is the weakest, as he has no magic of his own, and outside of external aid (Powerups, Caps, Power Stars, FLUDD, Luma, Cappy) he really only has his acrobatic skills (which admittedly, are pretty impressive) and his wits. From what I remember, Mario has never beaten Bowser in a direct straight fight. He’s always either A. aided by an external force (like powerups or friends) or uses the environment to his advantage to circumvent the power difference (like the Axe in SMB or the brick-block floor in SMB3). Peach is as strong as Mario physically and Bowser magically, but usually gets kidnapped because Bowser never plays fair (using multiple people to capture her, using sneak attacks, i mean, i’d be surprised if he didnt employ an ultimatum of “get in the koopa klown car, or i’m eating mushroom stew tonight! Gwah ha ha!”)

Dr mario is mario’s dad. he is the main protagonist of DK 81, mario bros 83 (alongside his twin brother Luigi, Sr.) and the first Dr. Mario, and the main antagonist of DK’s Circus and DK Jr.. He dated the Lady from DK 81 (no relation to pauline) but nothing came of it. his significant other/mario jr and luigi jr.’s mother is unknown, if they are even the same person. He is still practicing medicine to this day and is a vetetan in Smash, having attended every game since Melee as a fighter but Brawl and attended every game since 64 to cheer on his sons. (Don’t ask me who nurse peach is idk yet also DM64 and DMW are different)

there are two Mad Pianos. One is a mechanical trap made by Boos (64) and the other one is a real piano possessed by Boos (DS).

the Unagi from 64 suffers from anxiety and is more afraid of Mario than anything else. Peach thinks very fondly of them.

Sonic sometimes asks Mario to babysit Classic Sonic (the one from Mania) and as a result they get along pretty well. CS regards mario as a kind of “cool older brother/father figure” and Mario just thinks he’s adorable. They do extreme sports together

kriby hcs:

bandana dee is nonbinary (he/them)

king dedede probably runs a memepage on facebook about how great he is (it has 3 followers)

dmk listens to linkin park and considers them to be “way better than whatever that punk listens to”

the four otherworldy kings (parallel woods, parallel kracko, parallel meta knight and parallel dedede) are still alive for some reason and HOO ARE THEY MAD (at kirby & co specifically. they’ve chilled out regarding anyone else but if they see the dream friends or that cheeky piece of gum it’s ON SIGHT)

Kracko is related to dark matter in some form. i dont know how but they are. they’re suspicious. also kracko is scared of shrek bc they saw that one tumblr post where he eats lightning then reaches into his bag for the gun that kills clouds

dark nebula has two interpretations: first is mine: an extremely overconfident and egotistical blob of dark energy that thinks he’s lucifer. he talks with a disgusting amount of prose and a fake vague european accent bc he thinks it makes him sound refined. he calls himself names like “the lord of darkness” and “the beast within us all” and stuff and tries to get people to sell their souls to him. the thing is, he’s weak. like, PATHETICALLY weak compared to most beings on popstar. he were actually locked in a box by someone in response to being given a “proposal” to be his servant and herald. (that “someone” may or may not have been Galacta Knight) the other interpretation is that they’re a chaotic and malevolent demon with a very intense friendliness with nothing behind the eye. (like bill cipher, or tom cruise.) they got locked in a box bc Zero made them and was like “you are a mistake” and locked them in a box so they wouldn’t have to deal with them. it’s unclear if they resent zero for this and may be unaware of their existence entirely. When entities are killed, they release all of their power in a big explosion. this is why enemies “pop” when they are defeated, why mid-bosses violently explode after a while, and why bosses explode multiple times and then vanish in one last big one. the more powerful the entity and the more energy they retain at the time of death, the more powerful the explosion. This is largely the reason why Void Termina was sealed in the Jamba Heart instead of being slain by the heroes of yore, as the resulting explosion might destroy the entire galaxy. It is theorized that if Galacta Knight were to take his own life, the resulting explosion would irreversibly devastate the universe. (this remains unproven, as he only dies after being extremely worn down and eventually fatally wounded by Meta Knight.) 

galacta knight is one of the heroes of yore who defeated and sealed void before the series started. people feared and demonized him because of his power, and it made him scared he might accidentally hurt innocent people as a result. he became a hermit and wondered how he could neutralize himself as a threat to the world, and ultimately decided the best choice was to seal himself away in a crystal. Whenever he is unsealed he is extremely upset (as he considers himself a living WMD who’s very presence presents an immediate danger to everyone around him), and fights whoever he believes unsealed him (as since they revived him, they must have known about him, and why else would anyone unseal the greatest warrior in the galaxy if they’re not gonna use him as a weapon/attack dog?) He eventually dies for good in ironically, his first appearance, at the very end of Meta Knightmare Ultra. When he is beaten by Meta Knight, he’s lost so much power and strength that he can finally let go, realizing that with warriors like Meta Knight around, not only is he no longer a danger, but he can rest easily knowing that the galaxy is in safe hands. Finally at peace, Galacta Knight dies, releasing an explosion on par with Nova’s. Due to the way time works, Galacta Knight is fated to survive everything that happens to him up until his very last fight with Meta Knight in Ultra. He has known that he would die in a duel to the death with a winged masked knight in the stars since the days of yore, and used to frequently exploit the law of Forgone Conclusion up until the sealing of Void. Post-Seal, he began to believe the vision he saw was symbolic rather than literal, believing that this masked knight likely represents the darkness within his heart, and that his “death” actually meant his inevitable snapping and descent into fallen heroism and wanton destruction. When he finally sees Meta Knight in Robobot, he does not actually recognize him until he’s been badly wounded, but still escapes, as they’re not in the right place yet. He is elated to realize that the vision of the future is not describing his fall, but his actual death. When MKU finally rolls around, Galacta is hopeful (which is likely why he doesn’t kill Nova like he did with SD), as he’s knows going to die, which means the universe will be safe. Knowing that this is his last dance, he pulls out all of the stops to give Meta Knight the greatest fight he can before he croaks. When the final blow is struck, he loses control of his wings and is flung around by muscle spasms, but is able to regain control long enough to relish in his defeat. Galacta Knight and Hyness are not the only currently living heroes of yore. Given that Gooey, a piece of Dark Matter who is very loving and friendly, is clearly able to not only receive love, but give it as well, I think that all Dark Matter is capable of it, except for Zero, and possibly Miracle Matter. (I’d be willing to give them a chance, though.) They are unable to tap into their positive emotions because of their loyalty to Zero. This has changed as of Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards and Kirby Star Allies. After Zero’s death in 64 and Void’s purification in Allies, all remaining Dark Matter is free to do as they please without Zero to tell them what to do. Most have disappeared, but four major members remain. Gooey, Void, Miracle Matter, and Dark Matter Swordsman. He was the first Dark Matter to realize that he cared about others when post DL3, he questioned why he was so adamant to fight Kirby and Gooey even when it could have easily resulted in his death. He ultimately came to the conclusion that it was because he genuinely cared about Zero, and his intense loyalty to him was a result of that. Until Void’s purification, DMS hung around Gooey frequently, as they’re really the only family he has left. After Void’s purification, he was elated to learn that Zero had effectively come back, but now able to give love as well as receive it. He’s a little sad Void doesn’t remember his time as Zero, and as such doesn’t remember him, but believes it’s for the best that Void is not burdened by his past mistakes. His relation to Miracle Matter is unknown.  Now that Void has been purified and DMS has embraced his positive emotions, they are no longer weak to the Love-Love stick or the Rainbow Sword. As such, the Love-Love Stick has been disassembled back into the heart stars and returned to their owners, and the Rainbow Sword is currently in the possession of DMS, having replaced his old sword. Similarly to all native Dream Landers becoming animate yarn outlines in Patch Land, all native Patch Landers become animate three-dimensional plushies in Dream Land. The bosses from Kirby’s Epic Yarn are still around. Even Yin-Yarn is still alive! (but Shhhh don’t tell anybody its a secret) They’re doing a lot better now that Yin-Yarn isn’t around/active to boss them around. Fangora- Mostly just vibes in Weird Woods. They’re a lot less hostile then they used to be, so give em’ a visit! They’d love to eat-er... Meet you! Squashini- Still performs magic. He uses a weird mix of stage magic and actual magic and occasionally performs in Dream Land. He’s especially popular on Halloween! Hot Wings- Continues to look after her chicks in Hot Land, although they’re adolescents at this point rather than babies. She’s cooled down in terms of intensity and has begun to warm up to visitors, but only really trusts Fluff and Kirby. In Dream Land, her fire is cloth, but still burns like real fire. She has occasionally been known to barbecue as of late, complete with a cheesy apron and cheesier jokes. This has made her popular in Patch Land but she mostly just cooks for friends or her kids. Most of the time they just forage. Calimari- Resents Double Bubble and the Fuzz for ruining his cap, and has made himself a new one. He continues to hoard treasure, and will pickpocket anyone who comes by him. He could theoretically make a fortune with his knitting skills, but is too lazy to do so. A really good way to piss him off is to tell him he looks like a potato. He will hurt you. Meta Knight and Dedede - Oh You Know Fluff once ate an entire bar of ZOTE he found in Kirby’s laundry room and no one noticed until it was too late

idk there’ll probably be more but i’m kinda tired rn. feel free to add or edit as you please. i’m bad at being consistent i think so help is greatly appreciated 

Resilience

Here's the third part of my thunderbolts au. Emil Blonsky scaped his long imprisonment but he didn't went after the Hulk. Where did he go? The answer is bellow the cut. There's an original character here too. I'm not kin of OCs but I didn't find any character who would fit the role I wanted. Said oc will only be a part of this episode so consider it a special guest appearance. I've realized I've been writing more and more with each installment. Sorry about that, I'm getting more comfortable with the whole precess and I like to challenge myself. Continuing the trend, this chapter has a widely different vibe from the previous ones. As usual if you enjoyed please like, share or comment something.

Episode one

Episode two

Emil woke up from a nightmare. It was a fight. From as long as he could remember all Emil did was fight. Now even when he's not awake he's still fighting. He sat on the bed breathing heavily. Wait, where am I? He thought.

"You must be confused." A female voice was heard nearby.

Emil looked around looking for it. The cabin was small. The bedroom, the living room and the kitchen were all occupying the same space. There were two doors, one of them was probably for the bathroom. The woman was sitting at the kitchen table. She dressed a knitted sweater and rabbit slippers.

"My name is Charlie Reznik." She pointed at the soup, "Are you hungry?"

"Where am I?"

"Alaska. Three hours driving from Barrow."

Emil sat on the bed. He was naked. He covered himself with the blankets not for modesty but because they were warm.

"You weren't using any clothes when I found you and you don't seem like the kind of person who would wear my clothes. I hope the blankets kept you warm."

"Found me?"

"Yeah. You were screaming a lot. And throwing trees around." Charlie chuckled, "Eventually you got tired and just fell asleep right where you were. I was thinking about calling the police or something but when you started to shrink I decided to bring you here."

Suddenly Emil looked at himself realizing he did indeed shrink. He didn't look like that anymore. Still, the bones in his hands and abdomen were more prominent than they should be. He took his hands to his back to feel his spine was also prominent. That made him think of the super soldier serum, of the Hulk and of the prison he just scaped.

"I need to contact someone." Emil got up only to fall on the ground.

"Are you okay?" Charlie approached him with caution.

"I think I'll have the soap first actually." Emil muttered realizing how weak his body was.

***

The soup made with vegetables reminded Emil of his childhood in Russia. He had almost no recollection of those few years before he moved to England. He mostly remembered the cold and his mother's soap.

"I need to ask you but.. it's gonna sound weird." Emil was at the table tangled with the blankets, "What year is this?"

Charlie looked him in the eyes to decide if he was being serious or not. Emil didn't flinch so nor did Charlie, "It's 2023."

Emil pressed his lips and started to breath heavily. He was sleeping this whole time. They kept him asleep without ever giving him a chance to explain himself. No consent and no agency.

"No one has heard anything about you since 2008 Mr Blonsky and now you show up in the middle of the forest not knowing the year?" Charlie seemed genuinely curious.

"You know me?"

"I didn't recognize you at first. There isn't much footage from big you. But the sketch from witnesses matched pretty well. They call you the Abomination."

"Abomination?" Emil suddenly smashed the wooden table with enough strength to crack it. Charlie quickly moved her left hard to somewhere under the table. They locked eyes. For the first time Charlie didn't seem warm and inviting but rather fierce and absolutely ready to react. Emil closed his eyes a bit before recomposing himself.

"I'm sorry."

"I also think the name is impolite." Charlie brought her hand back, "But no one knew anything about you except you were military assigned to find Bruce Banner. I had to make some phone calls and turns out my guess was right! You are indeed in the accords database. Quite high level threat.

"What accords?"

"Alright." Charlie put her hair behind her ears, "I need you to be honest with me Mr Blonsky. What's the last thing you remember?"

So he said. He fought the hulk on Harlem, fell unconscious and woke up in Alaska. Charlie brought a computer from a big bag under the bed and put it on the table in a way that both of them could see it.

"The world changed a lot since 2008 Mr Blonsky. Put on your seatbelts."

Charlie then gave him a contemporary history class the best way she could while showing videos and pictures whenever she felt necessary. She talked about the avengers assembling in 2012 to stop an alien invasion caused by a norse god. She talked about the genocidal robot destroying a whole country in 2015. She talked about Wanda Maximoff killing those people back in 2016. She talked about the Sokovia accords and how that made the avengers disassemble. She talked about Wakanda opening up to the rest of the world. She talked about the avengers coming together again to fight yet another alien invasion. She talked about the snap and the chaotic years that followed. She talked about the blip and the even more chaotic year that followed it. Emil listened to everything in silence. It was a lot but he was smart.

"They put me to sleep for fifteen years." He whispered.

"I'm so sorry about that. It's unfair."

Emil had finished his soup but he stayed exactly where he was. Thinking about everything.

"I became strong. I became as strong as I could and still... they defeated me with bed time."

"You're being unfair."

"How come?"

"I don't think strength is really what you think it is."

"How would you know?"

Emil looked at Charlie's small stature with unconscious disdain. She picked on that and wore her fierce eyes again.

"With all due the respect Mr Blonsky..." It was possibly to hear the rage under her words, "You have no idea how strong I am. Thanos snapped my whole family! I wasn't even at home when it happened. Do you have any idea how much strength I needed to gather to simply get up every morning? I may not have big muscles like you -in fact no one does Mr Blonsky - but guess what? You could not have went through what I did. I'm sure of it!"

Emil got up aggressively and so did Charlie.

"You're really pulling the trauma card?"

"Wanna compete?"

"I think I do." He showed his teeth.

Charlie walked across the cabin stepping heavely. She sat on the bed. "Enlighten me."

The challenge got Emil off guard. He hesitated.

"I don't need to tell you anything."

"Of course you don't. If you tell me how traumatized you are, I'll tell you how traumatized I am. Then you will have to admit that none of it gives you permission to do the shitty things you did!"

The cabin merged in silence. Outside there was nothing but the cold wind running through the trees.

"I know your type." Charlie continued, a little calmer now, "Though childhood huh? No perspective of a future so you joined the military. Felt good to explode some heads didn't it? It felt powerful."

Emil remained in silence. He still looked mad, but remained in silence. Charlie went to the kitchen and grabbed a photograph from one of the drawers. She gave it to Emil.

"You're military." Emil studied the photo of Charlie and other soldiers smiling inside a tent.

"Used to be. Came back in 2019. The welcoming party wasn't exactly a party as you can imagine. My house was empty. As I said both my parents and my little brother got snapped. That's when I found this cabin."

"It's not yours?"

"Nah. I don't know who it belongs to actually. It was a cold night and I was just driving aimless. I don't know why exactly. Everything just seemed so meaningless back then. I felt weak."

Emil put the photograph on the table and they both locked eyes again. Not with anger this time though.

"It's cold but it's isolated enough. I could cry and scream as much as I wanted without anyone knowing. And did I need to scream! Scream at Thanos, scream at my parents, scream at myself. A part of me wish it could've been me, y'know? Trust me I would give my life for theirs in the blink of an eye! Yet, here I was."

Charlie sat at the table again. The temperature of the cabin went from 20°C to 40°C and then to 20°C again. Emil felt sorry about the table but most importantly he felt sorry for making Charlie mad.

"There's no much to say." He started, "Though childhood. No perspective. Joined the military. After everything I've seen, being strong is honestly the only option. It's survival."

"I get it. I really do. But strength is not on your muscles."

"Don't come with this heartfelt bullshit."

"It's not." Charlie chuckled, "Trust me I won't fall for that bullshit either. It's something else."

She got up and grabbed an old book from the shelf near the bed.

"All those things were already here when I got here for the first time. There was water, gas, energy, the bed, the blankets. It's like whoever lived here had just left. I've known this place for couple more than three years now. No one is ever here except me, yet the feeling never goes away."

The old book was covered with leather.

"Self help book?" Emil asked.

"In a way." Charlie tilted her head, "This book is about the universe. But not like a scientific encyclopedia. This book is about the whole universe, about the energy that comes from different parts of the multiverse and how to harvest and manipulate them. Essencially, magic!"

"Alright it's a self help book. Magic is not real."

"I was honestly hoping you would say that." Charlie smiled, "Check this out!"

Charlie put her hands in front of her and took a deep breath in order to focus. She moved her hands vertically and a orange string appeared from thin air. Charlie's hands drew a circle in the air and the string curved itself in a circumference. Charlie closed her hands as if grabbing something and with another gesture polygonal forms started to draw themselves in the magic circle. Charlie snapped her fingers with both hands and the whole thing started to spin like a magical ferris wheel.

"You discovered magic!" Emil whispered.

"Of course I didn't! People have been studying that for a long time. I just happened to find a weird book." The magical strings disappeared as Charlie stopped focusing so much on them, "You know when you are depressed so you set a simple goal just to give yourself a little achievement?"

"No, actually. But that's seems like solid advice."

"It is!" Charlie chuckled, "Anyways I read this whole book in like two days and I didn't understand shit. But I was super interested and started to dig the internet and beyond for anything related to all the weird concepts I found. I read the book more two of three times after that. Each time I learned something different and gained a new perspective over myself and the universe around me."

"So it is a self help book!" Emil laughed.

"As I said, it is but in a weird way. I mean look around. There's aliens and gods and the multiverse. When you think of all of it don't your problems seem way smaller?"

"I'm not sure."

"Here's how it's gonna be. I go to Barrow buy you some clothes and you think about everything I just said." She grabbed a jacket and wore boots, "But you have to pay me back alright? Otherwise I'm gonna hunt you and I'll find you. Remember: I know magic!"

"Okay, that's fair!"

Charlie grabbed a ring with slot for two fingers in a kitchen drawer. "That was one of the things I found here. Magic becomes weirdly intuitive once you learn some basics."

She made that focused face again and started to draw circles in the air with her right hand. The air in the middle of the cabin heated up and started to sparkle. An orange circle (much like the one she conjured with the hand gestures) appeared but in the middle of it was possible to see an alley.

"What is this?" Emil was shocked.

"Fast travel!" Charlie winked before passing through. The portal was gone as soon as she was gone and Emil found himself alone in the cabin.

***

There was a small mirror in the bathroom. Alone, he could check his own body for the first time. His face looked pretty much the same, he hadn't aged one day in the past fifteen years. Besides his hands and shoulders and spine, his elbows were also abnormally prominent. Was he the Abomination after all?

The power felt good, he remembered. Felt god-like. But the cost was too high. Emil became too dangerous and lost control over his own life for more than a decade. He wanted to blame Ross and Banner but would it be even fair? Emil was the one who accepted to take the serum in the first place. He actually pointed a gun at that scientist. He begged to become as strong as the Hulk is.

Emil left the house still covered in blankets. The cold snow made his feet burn but no enough to bother him. He was strong after all. Or maybe he enjoyed the pain in a sick way of reinforcing his own superiority belief. An orange portal opened nearby after a while.

"Aren't you feeling cold?" Charlie asked coming with a bag of clothes.

"A little."

"Come. See if any of those fit you. They're from the local thrift shop by the way."

"I've wore worse."

Charlie bought a simple jeans, two shirts, a flannel and boots. Really simple stuff just to protect Emil from the cold. It fit well.

"Thank you." He said.

"You're in debt, Mr Blonsky. Don't you forget that."

"You know magic." He chuckled, "I can't allow myself to have you as an enemy Ms Reznik."

They both laughed. Charlie sat at the table and started to type something on the computer.

"The feds are all over town." Charlie commented, "They're looking for you."

"Listen," he said, "I need to ask you a favor but first can I go for a walk?

***

Emil took a deep breath before jumping as high as he could. He could not see above the tall trees so he jumped again but grabbed one of the trees this time. Even with his bare hards, the wood bowed to his will. He kept climbing until he got to the highest part of the tree. From up there he could see the whole forest, including the trees he threw around the day before.

He jumped to the ground again. The snow splattered around him. His hands and knees started to bleed but he didn't care because he would break soon enough. He felt powerful and smiled without realizing it. Not a happy smile, bur rather a challenging one. Hey jumped a little before running in the direction of the destruction he caused. He started slow (more like jogging actually) but quickly escalated to marathon running and super human running. The cold wind cut his face like knifes but he didn't care. He just kept going faster.

When he finally reached the glade he jumped again. Even higher this time. When he landed his feet felt bigger. Breathing heavily he looked at his own hands and realized they were indeed getting bigger and muscled. Without wasting any breath he took off all his clothes and started running again. The cold started to bother him less and less as his body grew in size.

He started to scream so he could liberate his anger. He jumped high and landed with his fists causing the ground to crack bellow him. Emil grabbed a fallen tree and threw it to the air. He picked big boulders and threw them around at will. In the middle of the chaos he also started laughing. He was strong. He could destroy anything he wanted. He was as strong as he could be.

When Emil finally felt satisfied with his own display of power, he grabbed the trees and rearranged them back into the ground as best as he could. He picked the boulders and put them back where they were. So when the glade resembled the glade it once was, Emil sat on the ground next to his new clothes.

He started to think about everything Charlie said. Yes, he was big and could destroy everything is his way. But there were gods and aliens and robots and uncontable planets and entities across the universe. He was big and strong but he was also small and weak.

His strength though wasn't on his muscles but on his ability to survive. He survived his childhood, he survived the military and he survived the Hulk. Just like Charlie survived the snap and the aftermath. Like Charlie found new meaning in magic so could Emil find new paths to follow.

"I'm big and I'm small. I'm strong and I'm weak. I'm still here." Emil whispered to himself.

His body started to shrink calmly. Once he achieved regular size he wore his clothes and walked towards the cabin. Charlie smiled when he entered.

"Had fun?" She heard the screams obviously.

"Yeah actually. Thanks for everything."

"No problem. Remember, you're still in debt! So what favor do you need?"

"I need a portal but I also need an address. I believe you can find the person I'm looking for in the Sokovia accords database."

"Hm alright. What's the name?"

"Ava Starr."

Dissolve Me

Content: Heavy Suicidal Ideation, Physical abuse, Emotional abuse mention

Remmy’s hands shook as they sat in front of their TV in the room they stayed in at Morgan’s place. They hadn’t left the room in three days. Not to eat, not to shower, not to do anything. Even Morgan and Deirdre were taking Moose out to walk him. They didn’t want to move, they felt rooted. Glued to the floor, the bed, as if they had sat there for centuries and hardened in place, statuesque. They could recall another time they’d felt this way. It was the one time Remmy couldn’t remember how to put the TV back together.

It was nearing 5:30pm and their father would be home any minute. He would kick open the door and stumble into the house to the kitchen, grab his beer, then settle onto his armchair and flick on the TV.

Except that the TV wasn’t working. Remmy’s hands trembled as they tried to remember which wire went where and why the people who had built this originally hadn’t color coded the wires like the person who built their microwave. They heard his car pulling up, the garage opening. Their hands shook more. They screwed on the knob and shoved the wires into whatever place they would fit and threw the back cover back on, stumbling out of the living room and into the kitchen. Up to the table, where their homework for the night laid open waiting for them.. When the already drunk man stumbled in, Remmy didn’t look up, holding their pencil as tightly as possible. He didn’t acknowledge them either, like usual-- just grabbed his drink and stumbled out of the kitchen into the living room, sinking into his chair. Remmy watched out of the side of their eye, biting their lip nervously. Waiting. Just waiting. He picked up the remote and Remmy slid nervously from their chair, ready. He clicked the power button and-- nothing happened. They winced, started skirting from the kitchen as discreetly as possible-- maybe he wouldn’t notice. He clicked again and still nothing. Again and again and again, until his head swiveled towards the kitchen, ready to yell, only to find Remmy retreating towards the stairs.

“REMMINGTON!” he roared, flying up from his chair with a speed they hadn’t thought possible for such an old, drunk man. Remmy yelped and leapt for the hallway, running down it as fast as possible. Heard him lumbering after them, roaring still. Remmy slid across the floor, scrambling at the wall to right themself before using the leverage to fling their body forward and into their bedroom, slamming the door shut. Locked it and pressed their back against it, eyes screwed tightly shut. He slammed just as hard into the door and Remmy felt it give just ever so slightly. Their quiet tears streaked down their face as he pounded against the door.

He pounded until the door needed to be replaced the next day and his fists cut through wood and met skin. And he pounded until Remmy couldn’t cry anymore and even then he didn’t stop.

The next time Remmy took apart the TV they made sure to put it back together right.

The wires were easier to remember on TVs nowadays. There was less to remember, and Remmy plucked away at disassembling it like a methodical robot. Their eye was unseeing, unfocused, arms going through the motions even as they shook. 

They were trying not to let their mind slip away from them again, to go back to those dark places, those dark memories. But they couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help but remember every person who had hurt them, wondering where they’d gone wrong in life. Wondering why it chose to always hurt them, when all they wanted was to help. To be kind. To be soft. The world was always so painfully hard on them, to them. They just wanted to know why. They couldn’t figure out why.

Why had their father taken out his anger, his sorrow, on them? Why had their friends isolated them and made them the brunt of their pain? Why had their lieutenant yelled at them, made them the one responsible for that kid’s death? Why had Remmy pulled the trigger? Why had Remmy gone into that house? Why had Remmy gotten bitten? Why had Remmy woken up?

If they’d never woken up, they wouldn’t have had to go through any of the pain White Crest had dragged them through. They never would have had to make friends with Alain only to watch him turn on a dime and raise his sword. They never would have fallen into the trap of the Ring, and ended up caged and broken. They never would have had to watch their best friend die, only to have her curse and blame them for trying to save her. 

They never would have met Lydia.

And those people, those people they thought about, they had all taken something from Remmy. Left them empty and alone. So, what, then, had Lydia taken from them?

Perhaps she had taken everything.

She had given them safety when others gave them fear. She had given them softness where others had been hard. She gave them patience where others had given them intolerance.

And she had taken it all away.

She had hurt them more than most everyone else in their life, because she had given them hope first.

A tear fell from their cheek onto the screen of the TV in their lap. And that’s when they noticed a face that was not their own staring back at them.

“Murderer,” she said, and hands lifted themself through the glass and she pulled the rest of her abdomen through. Remmy stared, but didn’t move. Hands went around their throat and tightened. Nothing happened, they didn’t need to breathe. “You have taken the lives of others, and now I will take yours.”

Remmy stared at her with empty eyes. “I’m sorry,” they finally squeaked out, “I-I never wanted to hurt anyone...” they rasped.

The woman paused, then, and looked at them with a curious stare, even with her cold eyes and her rotting skin. “You are ashamed,” she said to them. Remmy felt their body slackening in her grip, not for lack of oxygen. Perhaps it was time to just give up. People continued to hurt them, to use them, to destroy them. And they’d let the world make them hard, if even for just a moment-- and blood had stained their hands. More than once. Jax, Ben, the man in their scope. The once pulled trigger had started their descent. They’d let the anger and the violence that festered make a monster out of them. And it was their fault. It was always their fault.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone,” Remmy replied, feeling their voice crack, tears welling in their eyes like dams in the winter, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

The woman’s grip tightened, despite their words. Her eyes, though empty, seemed distraught. . The woman’s hands grew so tight around Remmy’s neck, that they felt their windpipe collapsing, bending under her pressure. “You are a murderer, there is no escaping that.” 

Remmy didn’t know what to say. “I am,” they answered, “I am. I did it. I killed people. I hurt them. And if I-- if I could give my life for those I’ve taken, I would. If I could give every part of me to bring back the people I killed, I would. Even Jax. I would change what happened if I could, I didn’t want to kill him. He was horrible and he tortured me but I-- I didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t deserve to die. Killing him just made me what he wanted me to be, a killer, and I-- I never wanted that, I never wanted to be that.”

The woman stayed still for a long moment, watching Remmy’s tears as they fell down their cheeks and onto their hands. “Why is it different now? Why do you not beg for your life? Beg me to spare you?”

Remmy felt their lip quiver. Their heart wrenched. They missed Lydia like they missed air. The warmth of her arms when she hugged them, the soothing tone of her voice, the strength of her grip as she held their hand. Remmy couldn’t help but let out a loud sob. “Because I’m so tired of being hurt,” they cried, “I’m so tired of hurting people.” Their hands tightened on their lap, and if their skin could pale anymore, it would have turned their knuckles white. “I should’ve died years ago,” they sobbed, “I wanted to die with them. I don’t want this pain anymore. Please,” they begged, “make it stop. Make it stop.”

If death was due here, then Remmy was prepared to accept that. Perhaps they even wanted it more than they admitted to. They just wanted it to end. Maybe it would just end.

But the opposite happened. The woman loosened her grip and stared at them, before finally letting go. “I do not need to kill you,” she said finally, sinking slowly back into the TV, “you will change, or your guilt will consume you. Either way,” it was just her eyes now, staring up at them from out of the TV, “I win.” And then she was gone.

Remmy dove forward as if trying to grasp her, to hold onto her, pull her back up through and demand her to finish it. To not leave them here alone and suffering. Their whole body shook. “Come back!” they shouted, clawing at the TV screen, “come back!”

Their hands curled into fists and they pounded on the screen, stretching fingers out and scratching them down the vinyl. “Come back, please! Finish it,” they begged. “Please, I need you! I need you to finish it!” They raised their fists and smashed the screen, threw the rest of it aside. Collapsed onto the floor, curling in a ball, black bloody fists pressing against their chest, shards of glass stuck in their palms. 

“Please...I need you, Lydia,” they sobbed, rocking back and forth, “I needed you so bad.” 

To heal a broken heart [Toyahaul] part 1

Chisaki Kai cared very much about Kurono Hari. They were childhood friends. They've been through thick and thin, good and bad and would always stand with each other. Hari was one of the few people Kai allowed to call him by his first name. It was such a privilege to be able to do that. Everyone was aware that they were very close and they would do anything for each other, especially Hari. He would die for Kai if it was needed. Yet still, there were somethings that not even Kai could control. Those were emotions, and he had them more then he should.

Over the years they've spent together, Kai has felt like there was something more to their friendship. He always felt as there was this force in his stomach that would sometimes become that strong it would make him feel weird. It took him a good amount of time to realize that he liked Hari in a much different way. He wasn't disgusted by it, but he thought that it would distract him in his work, so he ignored it for some time. But as time passed, even that became hard to do. The way Hari talked, his smile and just his face, in general, was something he couldn't ignore. He was pretty. Way too pretty. And because of it, he thought he may as well tell him. It was getting a bit out of control too. Even Hari noticed that he has become more... soft, at least in private. It wasn't unusual for him to reach for Hari's sleeve and thug it when he wanted something. He'd keep the contact between them longer than before and longer than with anyone before. It even looked like he went a bit soft for Eri at one point and even doubting his out ideals and ideas regarding quirks. All of that because he listened to Hari and what he had to say about many things regarding their work and Eri. He had to talk about it with him. To let him now that he cares about him more then he should and that he wants to be more than friends with him. Because it would make things much easier than. It would make him feel at ease and happy. Oh, if it really went that way. Chisaki went out of his office to find Hari, wanting to finally tell him and end this circle of hiding his emotions and ignoring it just to come back and hit him like a truck. He was about to enter the common room as he heard Hari, out of all of them, speaking. "Yea, we've been dating for a few months". Kai's heart stopped. He continued listening, still set in place in front of the door. "Really? Who asked who out?" That was Rappa. "It was Hari actually. I never would've thought he would be the one asking me out but here we are now. I mean, I would've asked him eventually." The person who was now dating his best friend was Nemoto. Out of all of them. It was Nemoto. Chisaki didn't enter the room. He never did. He went back all the way to his office, closing the door and locking it, isolating himself from everyone. He wasn't sure if he should scream or cry at this point. What was he supposed to do now? Tell his best friend that he can't go out with Nemoto because he was in love with him all this time? Or he could just disassemble him and never speak about it again? But Hari would then hate him for it and may even leave, even if he was dedicated to him so much. Maybe... He should just let it go? It... Could be the only thing that could solve this? It will hurt to leave these feelings aside at the start but it's not like there was something he could do about it for now. Maybe they would break up at some point? Maybe. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. Without much thinking, he unlocked the door and opened it. In front of it was Setsuno. He was standing there with some papers, probably from Mimic. Je also had a bit of a worried expression on his face. "What is it?", he asked, not knowing what could make him so uneasy, as it was clear that something was wrong. "...It took you a while to open the door, boss. I knocked a few times before you opened." Well then. He was really bothered by this, considering he couldn't hear a knock on the door that was less than a meter away from him. "What do you have?" Chisaki wasn't sure what he was even speaking at this point. This was out of character for him. "Mimic sent these", Setsuno said, handing him the papers was has held. Chisaki just took him, without even saying 'Thank you' and that's something he would always say. He was about to close to the door before Setsuno spoke again. *Do you need anything else boss?" "No. Get lost", he said and slammed the door while closing it. _____________________________________ Setsuno always thought Chisaki Kai was beautiful. Ever since he saved him and gave him some purpose, he was very thankful for it, just like everyone else. But, while others appreciated it and kind of just rolled with it, to Setsuno this meant much, much more. Having some goal in life was what not a lot of them had. Rappa's 'goal' was to win in a fight with Chisaki. Some of them didn't really have a goal and just lived with what they had, enjoying it at that moment. But Setsuno needed something in life to keep him going. Before that was his girlfriend, but that's something he now lost, due to him 'not being a good boyfriend', as she told him when she left him for another man. That's where Chisaki came into place. He was a man Setsuno admired so much. So much for being an amazing leader who could keep everything in place, considering no one here was really reliable, other than maybe Chronostasis, Nemoto and Mimic. He was beautiful both in his work and physically. Even if he didn't show himself that much, his facial features looked very beautiful, even with the mask on. It would be an understatement that Setsuno liked Chisaki. He was clearly in love with him. And this whole situation made him worried and a bit mad. Chisaki was upset because of something. Setsuno doesn't want him to be upset. It made him sad because of it. And he was angry at whoever made him like that. Setsuno would really do anything for him, even making sure that something like this doesn't happen again. But he didn't know much at this point, and Chisaki didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it either. Not like he expected him to. He was somewhat okay with living until he dies knowing that Chisaki may not like him in the slightest. He'd just deal with it up until a certain point and then probably kill himself. Not like he would even mind, he was pretty sure Chisaki wouldn't care about it much. And honestly? He was okay with that. Even if he killed him for messing something up, he'd be okay with that. He knew he would then die because of Chisaki's touch, which would be the most he would probably get from. Simply said, he was in love with someone he thought he could never have, and Chisaki was in love with someone he knew he could never have.

Magical devices of Thedas -part I-

I recently started another Inquisition game so as i began once again collecting shards, playing with astrariums and activating artifacts, i thought why not? (As it turns out there are plenty of reasons why not, i simply chose to ignore them all lol)

This is by no means a complete recollection of everything that’s out there in terms of artifacts or magical devices or what Tevinter most likely has that i’m very tempted to call magitech. But i’ll try to cover as many as i can. Starting with elven devices! 

(Warning: possibly spoilers for all games)

The Elven artifacts:

We first learn of these artifacts in the Hinterlands, when Solas senses one is nearby and asks that we check it out. Then when we meet Mihris, who strangely enough refers to the artifact as a “crystal”.

Here follows a seemingly minor difference in word and meaning that later develops into a full on misunderstanding Solas doesn’t really bother to clarify.

When entering the room where the artifact is found, Mihris says “If we activate that crystal, it should react to the strength of the Veil”. Upon activating it, however, Solas says “the wards are helping to strengthen the Veil”. There is a very clear difference between measuring something, and strengthening it. Mihris basically means the artifacts measure the veil by reacting to its strength. This quest is titled “Measure the Veil”, and it’s followed by another quest similarly titled  “Measure Veil Strength”, once we’ve activated 10 artifacts. It’s a war table mission were Solas writes the artifacts are used to detect the magical energies of the Veil, and we are led to believe that activating enough of them would allow to pinpoint where the Veil is weakest and therefore where there’s a higher chance of a Rift opening. Doing this mission unlocks another quest in the Hinterlands called “What lies dormant”, leading us to a rift that hasn’t opened yet.

Despite the quests clearly indicating these artifacts simply measure the Veil, throughout the game Solas insists activating these artifacts somehow strengthen the Veil, implying the more we activate the less Rifts will appear as the Veil would become stronger. Logically, as we activate more artifacts, we can get a network or grid of sorts that determines the places where the Veil is thinner and where it’s stronger, but that’s actually all it does.

We never deal with a Rift found via artifact ever again in the rest of the game. Yet we continue to activate the artifacts. We could imagine the Inquisition sends small parties to other locations found through this network but truth is they could only deal with the demons and little else, as only the Inquisitor is capable of closing the Rifts.

There were theories pointing to the artifacts doing the exact opposite of strengthening the Veil, stating Solas was lying to us and manipulating us into helping him take down the Veil later on, and I think that’s partially true. We haven’t been weakening the Veil exactly, but we have activated an artifact network that points to where the Veil is weakest, where it’s thin enough for Rifts to form, and Solas can use this to determine from where to begin taking the Veil down.

There is still a slim chance that Solas was telling the truth and that these artifacts, in addition to measuring Veil strength, add to it. But we only have his word for it, for what it’s worth.

Shards and Oculara:

We first learn of the shards when finding the oculara in the Hinterlands. These are literally skulls on pedestals with a crystal shoved through an eye socket all the way to the back of the skull. They have a certain cyan-greenish glow, emits a sound of eerie whispers, and when looking through it one can locate magically cloaked “shards” that on close inspection look nothing like shards and every bit like book-sized stone tablets with some glowing crystal and a skull merged into it.

Solas keeps one in his desk at Skyhold so you can really take a long look at it whenever you want. 

But what is all that? There are just a couple of codices, and party banter you can easily miss depending on who you take with you to Redcliffe. On this codex found in the Hissing Wastes we learn that according to spirits, these shards have been around for ages. It would seem they were magically hidden until the Breach made it possible to find them, and it’s the Venatori who set out to it, specifically blood mages.

At Redcliffe, by the port there’s a locked room, and inside we find many of the pedestals and skulls, oculara left disassembled and abandoned by the Venatori (either when you defeat Alexius or when they leave Redcliffe to attack Haven). The comments made by Vivienne here and this codex  explain more or less how the oculara are made: it involves forcing a demon to possess a Tranquil by way of blood magic and immediately killing the Tranquil; it’s their skulls we casually look through when searching for shards. Tranquils are mages who had their link to the Fade severed so they can’t get possessed by demons, as demons are attracted to emotion and dreams of which Tranquils have none. This however doesn’t mean Tranquils are impossible to possess, simply that spirits or demons don’t find them appealing and look past them, ignore them. But the Venatori have been using blood magic to force demons to possess the Tranquils. As we’ve learned in Inquisition the Rite of Tranquility can be reversed, and as we saw with Anders’ friend in DA2, being exposed in some way to spirits can temporarily reconnect the mage to the Fade. Unfortunately, there is no details on how exactly this Venatori trick works, if making the Tranquil be possessed by a demon for a few seconds establishes a partial link to the Fade that remains in the Tranquil’s body after death, or if the demon gets somehow trapped in the Tranquil’s body unable to act as only the skull is preserved..It’s confusing and we also get no information on what crystal is used in the skull, the lense through which we see the shards. But as it was the Breach, the opening of the Veil, what made it possible to find the shards, it kind of makes sense -in a macabre very Tevinter way – that using a skull of a mage forced to lose their link to the Fade then have it forcefully reestablished via blood magic and forced possession would help make the shards visible. Kind of.

The shards have only one use, and that is as keys to open the various gates of the Solasan Temple in the Forbidden Oasis. It isn’t until -and unless – we choose the Redcliffe mission and are sent to a dark future that we learn Alexius hides behind one such door. We can suspect then his mages were setting up oculara in an effort to gather the necessary shards to unlock the temple. It’s easy to imagine nothing but the shards can open this type of ancient door, making them the safest to use if you’re trying to hide something valuable or keep enemies away.  The more shards a door requires the more difficult it is to get it open.

But then, in Jaws of Hakkon, we get this journal written from the perspective of a Hakkonite. It says in the old days Hakkon, a spirit, “opened their eyes that they might see the elfstones hidden across the world, and they entered the old cave and learned the mysteries of winter.”.This codex is relevant for two reasons: it helps explain the Venatori oculara production method, as it seems one needs a connection of some kind to the spirit nature in order to be able to see these shards ( as Hakkon personally once did with his followers, and later the Venatori did forcefully on the Tranquils via possession – i.e. forcing a spirit on them- ), and it referes to the shards, for the first time, as elfstones. This would indicate the shards are elven in origin, yet another elven magical artifact lost to the ages and only revealed by the Breach.

Considering Solas is responsible for the Veil and is an ancient elvhen himself, I find it extremely difficult that he wouldn’t know what the shards are. He keeps one on his desk supposedly to study it, but chances are he already knows exactly what it is and how it works. The shards most likely are from a pre-Veil era, hence why a connection to the Fade and spirits is necessary to see them. The shards have a physical nature, they are tangible objects, but also a spiritual one. On close inspection the glowing crystal part looks more like lyrium veins, and lyrium is the only thing that grows both in the physical world and in the Fade. It links both realms, existing in both simultaneously. And then there’s the skull merged into each shard, or elfstone. Are those skulls also made of stone or are they real skulls, and if so who did they belong to originally? They are called by the hakkonite elfstones because the shards belonged to the ancient elves, because it’s part of their magic/tech or because they’re made from elves? Maybe it’s all of that.

Also to note are the temples these shards open. The temple of Solasan is the first, and in Jaws of Hakkon we get another one (The Mystery of Winter). Both are evidently elven temples, not just by their name (Solasan is elvhen for A Prideful Place and has elvhen inscriptions at the entrance and inside it’s central chamber) but also by what we find inside (The Mystery of Winter holds a codex by a forgotten one, Geldauran ).

So like most things in this universe, the shards are ancient and elven in origin. But what of the oculara? They’re made from Tranquil skulls, surely the elves from pre-Veil times didn’t have people made Tranquil. And what about the Venatori looking for the shards and Alexius stealing one of Solasan’s doors? Well, I do believe Solas not knowing what the oculara are, I really think the elves wouldn’t come up with that, the world they lived in didn’t distinguish much between matter and spirit and therefore they’d have no need to device a way to see their stones (I do think however they were perfectly capable of taking the magic out of someone, based on what we know of the Evanuris temper). As for the Venatori and Alexius , they’re Tevinter. There’s enough evidence that indicates Tevinter appropriated a lot from elven culture and magic, so it makes sense the Venatori -possibly with knowledge made available by Corypheus  -  would create the oculara to yet again get their hands on ancient elven magical artifacts.

Eluvian:

Ancient elven magical mirrors used for communication and transportation. The name means “seeing glass”, and all eluvian are connected in an vast network extending through a realm different than the Fade, possibly created by the elvhen. For this reason only elves have a nice experience travelling through this realm, while others like humans get blurry vision, headaches, and overall an unpleasant experience. The Crossroads is how Morrigan calls the nexus of this realm where all eluvian connect. Most are locked, and in the physical world many are broken. The key to unlock eluvians can be either an object or a piece of knowledge, like a password.

Eluvians can get tainted by the Blight so it’s possible -although to my knowledge never mentioned – that the eluvian’s mirror may be made from lyrium, considering lyrium is the one previously thought non-organic substance capable of becoming tainted (in this codex  a dwarf referes to it as “king of metals”, mirrors were created by polishing metal, and considering how mirrors are made now even if eluvians aren’t entirely made of lyrium some of it may have still been used). Something that could back this up is a small detail seen in Darvaarad in Trespasser; the Qunari had been experimenting with eluvians for some time, take a look at their tools here:

On both tables we can see a few canisters with slits that glow from its contents, much like lyrium chests do.

Foci:

Orbs of ancient elven origin used as receptacles of power and memories. Similar orbs were called Somnaborum in ancient Tevinter. It’s implied each member of the Evanuris had their own foci (or is it focus in singular), and the only one we get to see is the one belonging to Fen’harel.

Similar looking artifacts appear in some ancient elven murals seen throughout Trespasser, one in particular depicts a similar form shown as the core of a slained Titan that is more or less replicated in the hands of an elf much like an orb. Considering we’ve already seen the “heart” of a Titan in The Descent, I wouldn’t say titan hearts and orbs are the exact same thing but it’s possible the Evanuris created their foci from the titans. 

Not much is there about foci, all we get about them is in Inquisition and from Solas, and it all points  to these artifacts being like backups of each Evanuris power; if Solas is any reliable example then Uthenera weakens the elvhen considerably the longer they remain asleep, so these foci may have been used once they awoke to get them back to full power quickly.

I try to take my own screenshots so apologies for missing some -like the Solasan temple doors, my new Inquisitor isn’t quite there yet!.  The second part of this will cover some Tevinter examples. If there’s anything you’ve seen on this subject that you’d like me to tackle just let me know and i’ll give it a try :’D

Dereliquit Deum (a Creepypasta)

Oh boy, I don't really know where to begin with this, honestly I didn't think I'd ever be able to do this for a long time, but it's been 20 years, and I think I'm safe. I hope I'm safe. Anyway, my name is Micheal, age 35, and this is a story about my childhood “friend”. It all started when I was 5 years old, or at least, that's when I remember it starting. My mom told me it started more, when I was 2, but I haven't talked to her in 10 years so I don't remember the specifics. Wow, that sounded assholish of me. just, let me explain, and no, she isn't dead. According to my mom, when I was 2 I would stare at the fireplace, and I just wouldn't stop no matter what they did. They'd try to get me to move but i’d just sit there, cross legged, staring at the fireplace. Sometimes I would turn my head a bit in confusion, my parents eventually got used to it, until I turned three. When I was three, my mom claimed she’d see me at the fireplace on the last day of every month, just before midnight, just staring. The entire year she was scared by this but, again, got used to finding me and bringing me back to my bed. It wasn't until the last night of December, when we were celebrating New Years, that I burst into tears. My mom asked me what was wrong and, according to her, I asked her “why didn't you save the little girl, mommy? She’s scared.” My mom was, naturally, terrified and confused, but apparently after a few minutes I calmed down. my mom said she’d never forget what I said next. I looked up at the ceiling and said “it's ok now mommy, she’s safe in the light”. My mom was obviously freaking out over her devil child, but my dad told her that it was ok, because I'd just seen a soul ascend into heaven (which wasn't really wrong) and that it was late so I had to go to sleep anyway. My mom was kind of comforted by that, and for two years, nothing happened. When I was five, it got worse. Much much worse. I was sleeping on the couch, since my room was under renovations and my bed had been disassembled (I needed a bigger one). When I heard whispering coming from the fireplace. I was still young and didn't really assess the danger of the situation, as well as that, I was half asleep and not very scared in the moment, so I looked up. There. Standing in front of the fireplace, she was staring right back at me. To give you an idea of how she looked, she was tall, probably 7 feet, her head almost touched the ceiling, she had greasy, straight black hair that reached her shoulders, and a single lock of white hair in the front that was longer than the rest. She had a white bowling hat with a silver ribbon on it that looked like it would fall off at any second, a white sweater overtop of a black button up with a white bow tie, and a black leather corset overtop of all that. She had a black pleated skirt that almost reached her knees and black and white striped leggings, ending in silver shoes. As well as this, she had a huge black and white bi-coloured umbrella with a silver handle that was behind her. But her face, her face is what stood out to me. Porcelain pale skin and 3 silver diamond marks on her face, one on the bridge of her nose, and one under each of her eyes, going along her cheeks. Her eyes were a light, dull blue that stood out against all, the blacks and whites. There wasn't any blush on her face, only one solid colour throughout. Like an amateurly painted porcelain doll. She looked human, but something was off. Like she was either trying so hard to look human that she did something wrong, or she wasn't trying hard enough. She looked at me and smiled, the smile looked wrong, just because it was too perfect, fixed, like a doll’s. She looked at me and whispered again, this time I could properly hear what she said. “Dereliquit Deum”. She asked me for permission to stay, and I, being the tired little kid I was, just sleepily nodded and said “ok” before falling back asleep. For the next few days she followed me from a distance, silently when I was with other people. But when I was alone she'd be much closer and talk more. and I didn't really mind for some odd reason. I did, however, pick up on a few of her behaviours. She always seemed to stand on her tiptoes, and I don't recall her ever really walking, just being there when I looked behind me. As well as this, her umbrella was always leaning against her but I don't think I ever saw her pick it up. She told me a lot of things, and I'd always remember chatting with her, but not what was said as far as “small talk” goes. I’d only remember specific facts and a few key phrases. I think those were the things she wanted me to remember. One of those phrases were “Dereliquit Deum”. She said it a lot, and I never asked her what it meant. I asked her what her name was after, probably, a week of her following me around. She looked at me, smiled that fixed smile of hers and responded “Relicta Per Deus” (and I'm guessing how that is spelled) I always called her “Reli”. Reli would follow me around day after day, and had followed me around for about a month when she said her first words to me while I was not at home, I don't remember what she said, but I know she distracted me just long enough to stop me from crossing the street, where I would have died as a cement truck ran its red, and would have killed me. when I told my mom (who had, up until the point, believed Reli was just my imaginary friend) she told me that maybe Reli was my guardian angel, sent to protect me, and the words I couldn't remember was because she was speaking in an angelic language I was incapable of comprehending. And for a long time I believed it. She couldn't have been more wrong. After about a year of having her around, she started to say different things to me. I’d go about my day and suddenly my mom would be shouting at me to stop, i’d look down and a knife would be in my hand or my hand would be inches from the window cleaner. I would have no memory of even reaching for these, or going to the room they were in at all, it was as if I had blacked out entirely. And Reli would be silently standing a few feet away. Not stopping me, just… looking disappointed. This went on until my mom was sure I was being possessed, and brought in a priest to cleanse the house. Weird thing was, Reli was nowhere in sight this whole time, but the priest did say he sensed something malevolent by the fireplace. He couldn't sense a demon, but he did lead a prayer and told us that it was all he could do. So the blackouts continued for a little while longer, until I was about 7 years old. Then they suddenly stopped. I do remember sometimes telling Reli rings like “but that's really bad” and “no! That's dangerous!” But I never remembered what she said before that. It seemed to me like Reli was trying to get me to kill myself, but eventually I got old enough to not fall for her tricks, but i’ll never be sure. That was when Reli started getting much more violent in he attempts. I remember one occasion in particular, I was walking to my room following dinner, and I could hear Reli’s breathing behind me. Then I heard a loud crash and jumped out of the way. The bookshelf in the hall had fallen over and had nearly crushed me. I'm positive Reli pushed it, and even at the time I was pretty sure she did, though I wasn't as sure as I am now. That was just one of the many instances I have of Reli trying to kill me, I'm sure I could find more if I think hard, but I really really don't want to. It continued until I was 10, then, it stopped. Reli started to show up less and less, she’d only show up to try and kill me, but her attempts became more and more clumsy and dejected, like she knew she had already lost, but was hoping by some miracle she would win. Eventually I stopped seeing her altogether. It wasn't until we were moving out when I was 12 or 13 that I saw Reli for the last time. I was exiting my room with my last bag, and she was waiting for me. I would have run, hell, I wanted to run, but I didn't. She looked sad, and as terrified as I was, I didn't think she would hurt me. She knew she had lost, I doubted she would try again. She just looked like she had something to say. “Just ask your mother, she’ll tell you everything. One day” was all she said, and then she turned to walk away, whispering for one last time “Derelequit Deum” And with that, she disappeared in a blink of an eye. I ran as fast as I could to get out of the house, terrified as you can imagine, and she didn't follow me. I never saw her again. But that isn't the end of the story. I was so afraid that I didn't think to ask my mom about anything, but I never forgot those words, I guess she just really wanted me to remember them. When I was 25 I had been in college for a bit of time, and I was taking a class on Latin for my specific major, the professor was reading out of a Latin text to use as an example for the grammar used, when they used to term “Dereliquit Deum”, I asked what that meant since we hadn't learned it, and they told me it meant “God left”. That's what reminded me of all of this, so I asked the professor at the end of the lecture what “Relicta Per Deus” means. They were confused, but told me it means “abandoned by God” Every day, she would tell me that God left, when I asked what he name was, she said she was abandoned by God. At this point I decided enough time has passed and I had to ask my mom about Reli. She refused to say anything at first and we ended up having a screaming match over the phone but eventually, she cracked. I don't think I'll ever forget what she said. “When I was only 12, my 10 year old sister, Susanna, fell into the fire on New Year's Day and died. I begged her not to leave me, it wasn't until I knew that you saw her that I realized she was still there, and told her she could go. The demonic… thing that's followed you around your entire early life, I'm so sorry, it was my fault she targeted you, the only reason I saved you all those times was because I was watching you like a hawk, knowing it was there. I didn't say anything, I didn't try to get rid of her because I was scared she would hurt me too, I'm so sorry” Then she hung up, to be fair, the only reason I know the whole thing was because my calls are recorded, I listened to the recording probably 20 times because I was so shocked. Still, I was confused. So she knew she was there but, how was this all her fault? Sure, I was kind of angry she didn't try to get rid of it but I still didn't know what it was, or what that little girl, my aunt, I guess, had anything to do with this. Confused, I composed a post, describing the situation, what happened, what she looked like, and everything, and posted it, Asking if she matched up with maybe some sort of myth or legend from another culture. Wondering if there were other people who might know more about her. It didn't take long to get a response. I'm just going to copy and paste the text she sent me here, I think she summed up the gist of it. Micheal- From your description I can only imagine that “Relicta” is a Solum, it's a creature from Latin origin that remains a myth in some Latin based cultures. They’re dark creatures that are born when a child’s soul ascends to heaven. They represent the evil in the dead child, that stays on earth, while the soul lives on. They are eternally dead and hollow, incapable of positive emotion, they only feel cold, alone, and spite. Solum’s stay in the area that the child died, they are tied to that area and cannot leave unless they have tied themselves to another child. The reason for this? They want to kill all the children in the area to create more of their kind, so they aren't alone. They feel as though God has betrayed or abandoned them, and because they cannot ascend to heaven, they try to make more of their kind so they can suffer as well. This is why they are sometimes confused as guardian angels, because they want the children to die where they are, not anywhere else, because then the new Solum will not exist in the same area as they do. I'm going to tell you this because I do not believe you are 100% safe now, Solum’s can shapeshift, they do not have a solid form, they can appear as an animal, a family member, even a bug on the wall, they can always be there, but they're especially good at hiding. Children above the age of 10 typically do not create Solum’s, and adults definitely do not, so while you might think you are safe now, you have to understand, Solum's are vengeful, spiteful creatures. Even if they know that they won't gain a companion, they sometimes seek out revenge on the ones that escaped them. Just because you aren't in that house anymore doesn't mean that she hasn't tied herself to you, she could still be lurking, waiting to strike. At any moment. Remember this, if you ever do see her, Solum’s are weak creatures, they can inflict a lot of damage but can't take much themselves, especially if it is using the thing that killed the child that created them, if you see her, I suggest using a lighter or match to fend her off. I wish I could tell you more, but that's all I know. Regards, I edited out her name to protect her privacy, but yeah, that's what she said. I would say that's the end of the story, but it isn't. A few nights ago I had a dream about Reli, she was screaming at me, surrounded by flames, begging for me to help her. I ran to her, I don't know why, and grabbed her hand. She never touched me as a child, just stood by me. She was cold and clammy, like a dead person. I woke up in a cold sweat and, for whatever reason, decided I had to check on my childhood house. So, at 4 in the morning, I drove over 3 hours to my childhood house. Don't ask me why, I don't know. I just felt like I had to. But when I arrived at the property I was stopped by a policeman. He asked me what I was doing, so I told him I used to live here and was sent to retrieve some things left in the house (complete lie, I know), He apologized and told me that the house had burned down, no discernible cause, at about 3:00am. I convinced myself it was just a coincidence, and managed to have a small chat with the policeman, that's when he told me something very very odd. He said that they heard a woman screaming from inside the house, despite the fact that all the family was outside. They thought it was an intruder so they sent in Firefighters to get her out. But while they were searching for her, she suddenly stopped screaming. No body was found. I asked him what time she stopped screaming. He said a little before 4:00am. I don't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to drive home that morning, I stayed in my childhood town all day and a motel at night, finally taking all the back roads home in the morning. I’m sure it was just a coincidence, I know I should be happy, she’s probably dead, or too weak to hurt anyone now. But I still can't stop thinking about how her clammy hand felt in mine, how she stopped screaming the second we made contact, how the wind behind me sounds so much like breathing. How when I saw the remains of that house I was so sure I could see an umbrella in the rubble. I'm sure it's nothing, but my brain keeps telling me she isn’t dead. Relicta can’t be dead. And if she isn't attached to that house anymore, well, that family didn't have any children.

From 2017...still true. America has a lot of problems, but right the President is the worst of them. He stands for nothing, believes in nothing, cares for no one. Solve the problem. #vote

"I feel the need to drop a little truth on y'all. So buckle up...I'm about to be politically incorrect.

We don't need to take America back. No one stole it. It's right here...you're sitting in it. Chillax.

Mexico isn't going to pay for the wall and we're not going to deport millions of people and break up families. If you think either one is a good idea, you're not smart and probably not a person I want to hang out with.

We don't live in a democracy. Technically we are a Federal Republic. But in reality we are ruled by an oligarchy. If you don't know what that is, look it up. Reading will do you good. You probably need to do more of it.

FoxNews, CNN, and MSNBC have an agenda and are not "fair and balanced" or in any way unbiased. I'll reiterate...read more. Read newspapers (even online ones). Read lots of opinions and sources and then (stay with me here), THINK! Form your own opinion based on as many facts as your can brain can tolerate.

Speaking of facts...there actually is a difference between facts, opinions, and propaganda. You should learn the difference. (Another opportunity to show off your mad reading skills.)

Science is real. We know things because of science. Don't be afraid of it. You have an iPhone and Facebook because of science. It's your friend.

Global warming or "climate change" as the cool kids call it IS REAL. Anyone who tells you it's not real is not a smart person and probably should not be dressing themselves or caring for children.

Racism exists. And you are probably a little racist and should work on that. Seriously.

American Christians are not under attack. We are not being persecuted. We wield so much power in this country that politicians pretend to be Christian just so we will vote for them. No one is trying to take your bible away from you. The gay people are not destroying our families—we don't need any help from them, thank you. We do a fine job of that by ourselves. So stop saying we are persecuted. You sound stupid.

Poor people need help. If you're not helping them but complaining about how the government helps them with your money you are not a nice person.

Be nice to the people who teach your children. Don't send them nasty emails or yell at them. Their job is 10,000 times harder than your stupid job. You are not a professional educator so just shut your mouth and be thankful someone is willing to teach your offspring.

You don't know what Common Core is. You think you do, but you don't unless you're a teacher. So stop complaining about math problem memes on Facebook. You can't do the math anyway.

ISIS is not an existential threat to the United States. We do not need to rebuild our military. Our military is the strongest, scariest, most badass killing machine the world has ever seen. So stop being afraid and stop letting politicians and pundits scare you.

Guns do in fact kill people. That's what they are designed to do. If you feel you need a gun to protect yourself in America, you are probably living in the wrong neighborhood and should move before you go out and buy a gun. There are like a billion places to live where you won't need a gun, or even need to lock your front door.

If you do own a gun, then make sure you know how to use it really, really, really well. Seriously...get some training because you still don't know how to record stuff with your DVR. Go to the gun range and shoot the thing a lot. Learn how to clean it properly and be able to disassemble it and reassemble it with your eyes closed. It's a freaking gun and it deserves that level of care, proficiency and respect. And for God's sake, keep it locked up and away from your kids.

If you are even a little bit crazy, sad, or pissed off...you shouldn't have a gun. And the Founding Fathers would totally agree with me.

Stop being suspicious of American Muslims. I guarantee the guy sitting next to you in the cubicle at work is probably more of a threat to you than any Muslim. He has to listen to your uninformed ranting day after day and has probably already imagined very colorful and creative ways to end you.

Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Glenn Beck, and all the rest are ENTERTAINERS! Stop getting your opinions from them. (Here's where that reading thing can really be an advantage.)

Stop sharing Facebook memes that tell me to share or else Jesus won't bless me with a laundry basket full of cash. That's not how prayer works. And I don't want money delivered (even from God) in a laundry basket. Nobody ever washes those things out and they just keep putting nasty dirty clothes in them. Yuck!

We are the United States of America and we can afford to house every homeless veteran, feed every child, and take in every refugee and still have money left over for Starbucks and a bucket of KFC.

Unless you can trace your family line back to someone who made deerskin pants look stylish and could field dress a buffalo, you are a descendent of an immigrant. Please stop saying that immigrants are ruining our country. Such comments are like a giant verbal burrito stuffed with historical ignorance, latent racism, and xenophobia all wrapped in a fascist tortilla.

That's all for now. I feel better."

LaMonte M. Fowler

december 31st the dark lady  evening | closed for @odessasvernon

Henry doesn’t know what he’s doing.

This is the lie he tells himself to get out of the house. It’s a rarity of late, agoraphobia blooming from paranoia and self-loathing. At any given moment, it’s a struggle between the sense that he’s inflicting himself on the world and a desire that no one remind him he exists at all. The gun he found beneath the Castelvecchio has been disposed of, each part disassembled and disposed of in a different location. He fingerprinted it personally, but the evidence has been carefully hidden away, not sent off to be identified by Montague forensics contacts. He knows what it will tell him, and looking at the evidence in stark black and white may kill him.

The handkerchief, he keeps in a locked desk drawer, easy to look at, easy to remind himself of what he’s done. Cool logic tells him he was a puppet; the heart is not so easily won, but it is keen to remind him of the grotesque nature hiding beneath his skin. 

Henry is paranoid. Henry is a mouse in a trap. Henry doesn’t know what he’s doing here.

His hand is trapped in a cast so he can’t make a fist, can’t even move his fingers because the bones connected to them might shift. The arm is strapped tightly to his chest, and it’s a familiar feeling, if on a different arm than before. No one questions whether he’s mixing pain medication and booze. No one at the Dark Lady does anything but hand him another glass.

He doesn’t actually realize it’s New Year’s Eve until he overhears friends giggling about who they want their midnight kiss to be. The Dark Lady is considerably packed, and this explains it, but that information is hazy and dull. All he can feel is the pounding of the blood in his veins, the fuzzy haze around the edges of his vision, and the need for another. His tab climbs and climbs, but he remains still, inert and focused without the sloshy, sociable Henry his drunk self is known for.

Even without inhibition, his strings have been cut. He remains on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the world to push him off. Instead, he finds the one person he can’t bear to look in the eyes this evening.

Odessa Vernon. La sua anima gemella. He feels sick as she spots him, as their eyes connect for a fraction of a second before he ducks his head. Tonight he is the wolf, and she is little red, but he will not eat her whole. He’s taken quite enough from her already. He’s been avoiding her, though, and the thought twists him further in knots. There’s no way through this that won’t hurt her, and that’s what he can’t bear. Though he smells her perfume, even through the haze of alcohol and the scent of liquor on the air, he stares down at the whorls of wood on the bar to hide his face. It’s all he can do to keep the flash of anguish, pure and aching, from her gaze. He says nothing, letting her take the lead, wondering if she’ll berate him for abandoning her or give him something softer. Either would push him closer to the edge, but isn’t that where he belongs?