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honeymoonjinmain · 1 month ago

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⚁ Six Legs ❀ ☾

It takes at least twenty dead people before you acknowledge that this isn't a regular gameshow. Now, you have to decide who to align yourself with before you're the next to be eliminated. masterlist

❀ hyunju x reader ❀ ☾ namgyu x reader ☾ this chapter contains graphic violence and sexual themes, future chapters will contain mcd. mdni. 9.7k

Like magnets drawn together, the second you glance back over at the O team, you lock eyes with 124. He looks like the cat that got the cream. Overhead, the modulated voice of the leader announces that voting has concluded, and dinner will soon be distributed. 124 doesn’t so much as glance towards him. You half expect him to come seek you out again, to be sucked back into his orbit, but a single cuff on the back from player 230 breaks his concentration, and he begins animatedly celebrating with the rapper. In an instant, you’ve been completely forgotten, and it’s shameful how disappointed you feel.

Instead, you turn towards the older lady and her son. You offer the two your condolences. “And I realised,” you add, “I never actually introduced myself.”

After you’ve given the two your name, the woman speaks up, hand pressed to her chest. “My name is Jang Geumja. This is my son Yongsik.” She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders in grim determination. “We’ll be okay. We’ll get through this, and we’ll go home tomorrow night. Where are you from, dear?”

It’s an impossible question to answer, so you offer up a partial truth. “I’m staying in Daerim.”

Geumja gives a disapproving grimace and clutches your arm at that, then pauses. “I suppose you wouldn’t exactly be living in Gangnam,” she concedes. “Anyway, that’s not far from us at all. You can easily catch the subway. What say you come to our place for dinner tomorrow night?”

The sudden urge to cry hits you like a truck. Even if you really did all survive and successfully vote to leave tomorrow, casually catching public transport and having a family meal is so far away from your current reality. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay, and send her a warm smile. “I can make a killer oxbone soup,” you offer up instead with what you hope is a convincing smile.

“Ah,” she coos fondly, “I knew I liked you.”

Her small hand pressing gently against the outside of your arm and her kind eyes are enough to make you bawl, and you know you need to make an excuse to leave urgently before you lose it in front of everyone.

Glancing ahead, you see lines are already beginning to form as three tables laden with lunch boxes and water bottles are rolled to the base of the stage. “I, uh, I’m just going to find the bathroom before dinner.”

“Okay, dear,” she answers easily, and you immediately mourn the loss of contact as she steps back. “Yongik and I will find somewhere over on that wall, please feel welcome to come eat with us.”

“I appreciate it.” You can’t get away fast enough. Now that you’ve used it as an excuse, at least, you really do need to use the bathroom, and so you hesitantly approach one of the armed pink guards standing in front of one of the side entrances.

There’s no movement as you walk up. You have your hands raised slightly, almost in surrender, as you step close to the doorway. “Excuse me, is the bathroom through there?”

You receive nothing back more than a nod, so you slip through quickly and navigate down the short hallway. Few people are down here; you suspect the vast priority are focused on ensuring they don’t miss out on a meal.

The first door you pass is painted with a white circle on top of a larger white square. You scoff. Men’s . A good distance further is an identical push door, this time with an upright triangle instead of the square. “Real clever,” you mutter flatly.

Inside, the childish colour scheme continues. Gleaming blue floor tiles span the whole way down. There are two rows of pink cubicles, probably at least fifteen on either side - although you suppose that isn’t really that much in the scheme of things - but by the looks of it, they’re all toilets and no showers.

When you go to wash your hands, you catch your reflection in the mirror, flinching at the dark red, almost brown smears across the teal of your jacket. Somehow, you had forgotten along the way how much blood you’d been covered in. Thankfully, there are only a couple of spots just above the collar where the blood got onto your skin itself, but nonetheless you scrub at it with your wet hands, trying not to dwell on how it got there. Quiet as it is in here, you take the time to dampen some rolled-up toilet paper to wipe at the stains on the jacket, too, but it doesn’t lift it all off.

You fiddle with your hair, curling your lip when you feel grains of sand beneath your fingers. You spend a while trying to detangle it all, before realising you should probably get back to the dormitory, or you’ll really risk missing out on dinner. As the thought hits you, a few women file into the bathrooms and you take it as your cue to leave.

You curse when you pass the guard in the doorway to see the three trolleys being wheeled away in the opposite direction. “Hey!” Cringing at the way your voice echoes in the large room, you rush forward to catch up with the guards in charge of them. You step in front of the one at the back and give the pink suit an apologetic bow. “I’m so sorry, I actually didn’t get one yet.”

There are maybe close to twenty of the metal lunchboxes still on the trolley, but the guard just stands blankly as the squeaky wheels of the first two trolleys fade away. “So…” you start up awkwardly.

“The dinner service has concluded.”

You blink at the guard in disbelief. “Seriously? I could just take one and go now, they’re literally-”

“The dinner service has concluded. Please step aside.”

Your mistake is in reaching out for one as you move out of the way. A tell-tale click comes from the stage just above you, where another guard has taken aim at you, barrel pointed to your chest.

It’s been a while since somebody has pointed a gun at you, and it never gets any less alarming. Slowly, so as not to startle either of them, you pull your hand back to your side. Without a moment’s pause, the guard holding the trolley rolls it down the hallway, out of sight.

When the guard above finally stands down, you feel like a puppet with cut strings. All at once, the weight of the day catches up with you, and your eyes sting with tears of frustration. “Gotta be fucking kidding me,” you utter under your breath.

As you turn around to do the walk of shame back to a bed somewhere, your name is called out. Your eyes scan the room until you find Daeho, waving like a madman. Once you see him, he begins flapping his hand to beckon you over.

For their part, the rest of the room is either considerately pretending they didn’t see that whole exchange, or just generally don’t care. Either way, you still feel more comfortable once you’re out of the centre of the room and back into the flanks.

“Everyone,” Daeho announces magnanimously, “this is my friend.” He introduces you by name, though the others don’t offer up theirs. In his motley crew is player 456, the man who had defended him - 390 - and, strangest of all, player 001.

The latter two offer you a dutiful nod. 456 attempts a tight smile, but it barely even reaches his cheeks, let alone his eyes. You try to smile back. After the antics of Red Light, Green Light and the voting, it somehow feels a little like meeting a minor celebrity. “Thank you for helping us, player 456. I’m sorry more people didn’t listen to you.” You feel a curl of shame when your own vote wasn’t even really because of him. Still, he nods gratefully, eyes dropping again.

“Speaking of helping,” Daeho interjects, “the reason why I called you over is… this!” He pulls his hands from behind his back stiltingly, and you see a pile of food resting precariously on a flat metal lid. He presents it with a careful flourish. “I saw you didn’t have a chance to eat earlier-”

“So unsympathetic, those guards,” 390 whines, half to himself.

Daeho presses the tin lid into your hands as he continues. “So we scrambled this together. That’s 001’s rice, my kimchi, 390’s spam-”

“I never had a taste for it anyway, truth be told.”

“-and 456’s egg.” He furrows his brow in consternation. “We’d all finished our water too soon, though. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you protest, quickly dipping into a deep bow for each of them in turn. “Thank you so much, this is very sweet of you all.”

As you begin to eat, the three older man fall into conversation among themselves - that is, 390 and 001 speak quietly amongst themselves while 456 stares blankly into thin air.

You turn to face Daeho, who is watching you while chewing on his lip, like he’s worried you won’t like it. “Daeho,” you ask softly, “why are you being so kind to me?”

He lets out a deflective hum and waves his hand. “It’s nothing.” He pauses, smile slightly strained. “Well. The truth is, you remind me of one of my sisters.”

You blink. “Oh.” Somehow, that was the last answer you expected, but it quickly warms your heart. “That’s so lovely. You must miss them already.”

For a moment, his whole face crumples in misery, before he forces it down and gives you a sad smile. “That I do. I bet you feel the same about your family.”

“I’m not close with my family,” you state mildly. It’s another partial truth, and you give yourself some buffer time by finishing off the small serving Daeho had put together for you. Once you swallow, you give him a warm smile. “It’s okay; I’m a lone wolf.”

His worry fades as he makes a self-satisfied noise. “See? Just like Chaewon.”

You chuckle, but the fond moment between you is broken when a shout echoes across the dormitory. To your shock, a young man is tackling player 230 to the ground. Ever the groupie, 124 jumps onto his back like a monkey to try and free his friend. The momentum knocks the other player 333 - to the ground, and in mere seconds 124 has the man arms behind his back, leaving him defenseless to the brutal punches the rapper sends to his face.

You curse in alarm. The crowd gasps, but nobody makes a move to do anything as 124 lets the player drop harshly on the floor. The rapper begins kicking him in the face, swearing at him, and even 124 himself tries to land a kick in there.

Behind you, Daeho clicks his tongue. “Oh, to have all that energy. It’s gotta be nice to be that young.”

Your stomach flips at the sight of how openly violent your ‘neighbour’ and his friend are being and your heart races as you try and work up the courage to intervene. Why you got a gun pulled on you for trying to eat, yet nothing is happening about this beatdown, is a mystery to you.

Finally, you decide to just take the plunge and go over. You’ll make a plan up on the way over.

You hear Daeho calling out from back at the beds, but when a hand rests on your shoulder, to your surprise, it’s 001.

“Stay out of harm’s way,” he instructs in a steady tone. Without further pause, he heads calmly into the centre of the room, catching the duo’s attention. “Hey, boys,” he calls out to them, “what makes you think you can behave like that? It’s mealtime; people are eating. In front of your elders too. Mind your manners.”

They look up as player 333 grunts in pain below, but 001 keeps advancing. “And two against one? Shame on you. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

As much as you find 001’s ever-tranquil demeanour slightly unsettling, you can’t help but grin at his words.

The rapper doesn’t take kindly to those insults, however. He strolls forward, arms raised high in an effort to seem intimidating. “You’re lecturing me when you ended up in this shithole too? Grandad,” he spits, gesturing mockingly with his hand, “stop running your mouth and take care of your own damn kids.”

“What did you say?” 001 asks in a low tone.

“I said,” 230 reiterates with a glare, stepping closer, “save the lecture for your own damn kids.”

Quick as a snake, 001’s hand shoots out and grips harshly onto the rapper’s shoulder, making him groan, struggling but unable to break the hold. From the other side, 124 swears and runs up with as much subtlety as a bull. Deftly, the older man sends one sharp kick to his shin, followed by another to his knee, making him crumple to the floor with a pained whine.

The rapper manages to break away, but is caught with two keen jabs to his torso. “Wait,” he heaves out, breathless, “wait a minute.”

But 001 doesn’t take his outstretched hand as an olive branch, instead he uses it to yank him to the floor, kick him while he’s down, and begin choking him single-handedly.

The entire dormitory is a rapt audience as the older man bears down harder despite 230’s strangled apologies. Your eyes dart up to the guards. Still, nothing.

Before you even really think it through, your own voice cuts through the hushed silence. “I think that’s enough.” Daeho hisses your name, and hundreds of eyes turn to face you - 001’s included - but you stand your ground. “An eye for an eye,” you state, hoping the older man has some sort of rational moral compass.

And indeed, he doesn’t make you object further. He lets up. Player 230 scrambles away from beneath him, coughing and clawing at his neck, but 001 keeps his eyes on you. As he stands, the crowd erupts into applause for him. Although intervening was the right thing to do, such raucous celebration for him nearly strangling someone seems distasteful to you.

As such, you avoid his gaze when he casually strolls back to Daeho and the others. Instead, you watch the two men in the middle of the room. The rapper’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he still fights to catch his breath. For a moment, he gives you a confused stare, before tipping his head back to look at 124. The raven-haired man puffs up his chest in what seems to be pride, then crawls forward on his hands and knees to whisper something in 230’s ear.

You try not to flush even as you feel both of their gazes on you, hot like melted wax. Instead, you say your goodnights to Daeho and the others to studiously find somewhere away from 001.

As you do, the doors swoosh open again, and the guards with trolleys - although impossible to say whether they were the same ones - start circling the room, instructing all the tins, cutlery, and empty bottles are handed in. To your surprise, they have what looks like printed inventories that they tick off as each person hands their items in.

Your earlier indignation at being refused food bubbles up inside you again, and you quickly scale one of the bunks a few levels up so you can keep your distance.

From above, you have a good vantage point, and you scan the crowd for the few familiar faces you know outside of Daeho, who seems to already have entrenched himself in that clique. You sit up in relief when you spy Hyunju moving in your general direction. You call out to her, and when she looks up, wave her over.

She dutifully climbs the ladder on the bunk opposite yours until the two of you are level. “Day one, and it’s already getting crazy out there,” you muse once she’s joined you. She gives a single, solemn nod. “Me forty-eight hours ago wouldn’t have believed such a thing like this could exist.”

Hyunju takes a slow breath, staring out towards the hall. “What is it you were thinking forty-eight hours ago, then?”

You pause, resting your temple against the cool metal support at the head of the bunk. “I was thinking, ‘what harm could it do to sign up for a game?’”

“‘Worst thing that will happen is I won’t win,’” she finishes sagely, briefly catching your eye to share a grim smile.

“Exactly.” You let out a slow sigh, feeling exhaustion catch up with you every second. “I mean, at least they’re providing beds and food. Could be worse.”

She lets out a quiet laugh of disbelief at your attempts to stay positive. “Could be,” she agrees with a small smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve slept in the same room as other people, though.”

“Really?” you question in a mock-surprised tone, “I can’t sleep unless I’m surrounded by at least three hundred strangers.”

“I meant at all,” she admits with a touch of embarrassment, though her eyes glitter at the joke.

A dull pang in your chest. “Me too.”

Straightening her posture, Hyunju looks around the room, as people slow down for the night, some falling into clusters while others get as far away from everyone as possible. “It’s like the world’s weirdest sleepover.”

“Well,” you begin emphatically, “if this is a sleepover, we have to do sleepover things.”

“Like what?”

You think back to your middle-school days. “Truth or dare, spin the bottle. Fuck, marry, kill.”

A snicker bubbles in her throat endearingly. “Fuck, marry, kill?”

“You never played it?” you ask in genuine surprise, smile faltering at the way her own expression drops a little. “Never mind, it’s a classic. You pick three people, any three people, and the other person has to decide what they’d do for each person.”

Hyunju’s cheeks are pink. “Okay. You go first.”

You nod solemnly, gazing around the room. “Alright, then. 456, the square guard and… the doll from Red Light, Green Light.”

“That’s-! Well, I have to kill the doll because she tried to kill me,” she begins.

“Reasonable.”

“I’ll kill the square guard too because he’s-”

“Can’t do that,” you interrupt smoothly. “It’s not fuck, kill, kill. One of each.”

“So I have to either sleep with him or marry him?”

You shrug. “Such are the rules. You can’t handle the heat; get out of the kitchen.”

Hyunju lets out a slow sigh in genuine consternation. Your heart skips a beat when you get this view of her. Distracted as she is looking down at the crowd, presumably trying to find 456, you’re able to openly take in every detail of her face.

Her cheeks remain slightly pink, a lighter shade than her lips. With her hair tucked back from her face, you can see the fine sweep of eyeliner that somehow hasn’t budged throughout the first game. Despite her strong jaw and tall frame, the way she carries herself is soft and gentle.

Before you can get too carried away, she’s looking back up with a resolute expression, eyes widening minutely when she catches you staring. “I’ll fuck 456,” she announces reluctantly, “and marry the square guard.”

You hum for a moment, trying to act casual despite the flustered heat in your cheeks. “Bold move. Why is that?”

“Oh, I’ll just file for divorce.” You can’t help but smile at her self-satisfied expression. “Anyways, I don’t think I’m cut out for this. How about… What’s one thing that you’re going to do with the prize money after you’ve paid off your debt? Not a necessity; something you’d do or buy just because you can.”

It’s your turn to mull the question over. “That’s a good one. How elaborate can I get?”

Hyunju shrugs demurely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart flutters like you have a playground crush. “Okay, here it is: once life is back to normal-” unfathomable, but you’re not going to bog your fantasy down with the details, “I’ll start up a cafe in a tiny seaside town somewhere further south. It’ll sell single-origin coffee and fancy pastries and artisan chocolates and dogs will be welcome. We’ll have seasonal menus, too, like strawberry lattes in January and sweet potato cheesecakes in September.” Her eyes are locked on you intently, crinkled around the edges. “I’ll know all the morning coffee regulars by name, and their orders off by heart. You’ll be one of them, obviously, because we’re going to share a survivor’s bond after all of this is over.”

“Obviously,” Hyunju repeats with a soft voice.

“I’ll make sure there’s a co-owner so I can take time off in the winter to visit my mountain chalet and just hide away from the world for a bit. Some peace and quiet and a log fire.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

You beam at her. “I’ll give you a spare key.”

She ducks her head, smoothing the sweatpants over her thighs. “I’d like that.”

“What about you, then?” you return, wondering if you’ve made things a little too forward too soon. “Your treat to yourself after we leave?”

“It’s not as exciting as that,” she defers with a small laugh, “but I’ve always wanted to own jewellery. Quality stuff, you know? Not the fake dollar store ones that leave green marks on your skin.”

Hyunju seems a little rueful offering up her answer, as if you’d brush it off, but secretly you’re already picturing her decked out in delicate chains and glittering jewels. “I think that sounds fantastic.” You pause, pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe I’ll open up a jewellery store right beside my cafe.”

She laughs loud enough that you catch the disgruntled attention of some players a few rows across and a comfortable silence falls between you.

You bite your lip, sad the conversation is coming to an end. Before it fizzles out, you want to question her on something that’s been dwelling on your mind. Scooting forward to the edge of the mattress, you lean across and lower your voice. “Hey, Hyunju?”

Her thoughtful gaze has turned up to the partially-filled piggy bank above you. “Mhm?”

“Back out on the field, when you saw that man, what were you thinking about? I mean, how did you decide to risk your life for him?”

Her back straightens, and when she turns back this time, she doesn’t look away. “I didn’t think,” she explains simply. Unlike before, her voice carries a natural authority. “If you’re thinking about it, you’ve already wasted too much time. It’s instinct.”

You nod, slowly. “I think I waste all my instinct in life saving myself.” You feel a little embarrassed to have even said that out loud, but Hyunju just makes a small hum of understanding.

“That’s not a bad thing. People have worse instincts than that. Some people have instincts so poor they lead to their own deaths.” A wince of regret passes across her face in the context of the many deaths you’ve both borne witness to today. She points to your chest. “At least your instinct was to try and spare yourself and others with your vote.” Her hand draws back to rub self-consciously at the O patch she wears.

The two of you pause as a final lights-out warning rings from the loudspeakers. Below, everyone is settling in and making final bathroom trips. Hyunju is back to avoiding your gaze again. “I didn’t actually want to leave,” you admit, voice more hushed than it was just before. “I just wanted people to think I was a selfless person. For once.”

Another lull follows, before Hyunju softly clicks her tongue and gives a decisive nod. “We should both get some sleep. Maybe we’ll be selfless tomorrow.”

Despite your self-pity, you send her a genuine smile. “I did promise to be your Hyunju tomorrow.”

She’s already turning herself around to untuck the blanket, but you’re sure you catch her smiling too. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

–

This time, you’re almost the first in line to breakfast. You send the guard your most venomous glare as you snatch the tin out of their hands on the off-chance it’s the same one as before. The water feels like heaven down your parched throat, but you’re a little disappointed to see the food is the exact same. Nevertheless, from a few bunk levels up you and Hyunju eat in companionable silence as you watch the night owls shuffle around like zombies.

By the time the guards are coming back around to mark off your returned dishes, the air is buzzing with anticipation on both sides. Even your fellow X-voters seem to be in higher spirits as they congregate and strategise about how to make it through.

“What do you think the next game will be?” It’s the question on everybody’s lips, but you want to hear Hyunju’s take on it. From the few conversations you’ve had with her, it’s clear she’s incredibly sharp.

She mulls it over for a second, dark painted nails drumming against her thighs. “Nothing too physical. I’m sure each game is meant to test a different skill, otherwise those less capable would have no chance. Maybe a luck-based game? But then, that wouldn’t be very satisfying for those watching.”

That’s one thing you don’t hear many people talk about. You’d pick 456’s brain about it, but 001 has been at his side like a well-keeled dog. You and Hyunju had discussed at length what the cameras were for exactly, and how such an elaborate set-up and hefty prize were possible. You found it most likely this was some messed-up dark web snuff on a large scale. Hyunju suggested perhaps they betted on you like horses. The thought had made you shiver, but you’d found no good reason why that wouldn’t be true.

“Daeho said that 456 told him the second game was dalgona last time,” you offer up. “Which also doesn’t sound that entertaining to watch.”

She hums in concession, then shifts in discomfort, beginning to descend the ladder. “I might go freshen up before we get started. You?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

After close to a year of trying to avoid people as much as possible, being in an enclosed space with endless interactions has you on edge, but Hyunju’s departure provides no respite as it’s moments later that a hand around your ankle makes you shriek.

You yank it up and onto the mattress you’re on as a kittering laugh peals out from below. 124 slinks up the ladder beside you like a cat, sprawling onto the bed so that his knees bracket your thigh and his hands rest on the bed either side of your hips.

His forward nature surprises you, but you don’t protest, secretly enjoying the heated proximity. It’s strange to you, how drawn you are to both him and Hyunju, though in vastly different ways. “Good morning to you, too.”

His lips slowly pull back into a grin as his eyes search your face. “My baby wouldn’t hide from me, would she? You voting like a coward,” he reaches out to tug on the X patch stuck to your jacket as his eyes darken, “really pissed me off , but I’m a forgiving guy. And after all, you tried to act all big and strong last night to save me and Thanos.”

“Who?” you ask instinctively. “Wait; that guy’s name is Thanos ?”

This catches him off guard. “You didn’t know his name?”

You could laugh at the genuine bafflement in his voice, but you know that’s a bad move. “You still haven’t even told me your name.”

His eyes roll away from you with that open-mouthed look of bemusement and he rocks back on his heels. That presses his full weight onto your leg, pinning it down, and you muffle a gasp as his hands slide back with him. No longer are they propping him up on the mattress; instead, they’ve found the tops of your slightly-parted thighs, thumbs rubbing back and forth so close to your crotch that the skin is sensitive even through your sweatpants. You have to fight not to part your legs further.

“Namgyu,” he drawls lowly, eyes heavy on you. “You know, you really should apologise for what you did. Say ‘I’m sorry, Namgyu.’ Tell me you feel bad for making such a stupid decision.”

For all you know, there could be an entire crowd watching the two of you in disgust, but you can’t break his gaze for a second. “I’m sorry,” you croon sweetly. “I do feel bad. If we won the vote and left, I would have never seen an old man kick you to the ground like a pathetic little dog… Namgyu.”

If you weren’t already so on edge, you might have missed the way he minutely rocks down his hips on you. Even so, the way his eyes diate is unmistakeable. “You’re such a bitch,” he whines reflexively and pushes himself off of you. You can’t help but mourn the loss.

As he leans back against the ladder, he rubs his nose and looks down at the crowd. An impish smile slowly stretches across his face as he focuses on a single spot. “That’s right,” Namgyu grins, “Thanos wants to meet you.”

He turns and descends the ladder, not even looking to see if you’re following as if he’s completely certain you will. And - speaking of dogs - you do.

The one advantage of Thanos’ obnoxiously-dyed hair is that he’s unmissable in the crowd. He’s alone on one of the ground-level beds, eyes tracking the crowd.

Namgyu snakes through the players to reach him before he’s seen, and springs up to grab him by the jacket sleeve, propping his chin up on Thanos’ shoulder. A few steps behind, you barely hear Namgyu utter ‘I caught her for you’ indulgently as the rapper catches your gaze.

“Hey, girl, my hero,” he announces in English with a melodramatic bow of gratitude. He switches back to Korean with a smirk on his face. “Congratulations, you earned a spot with the winners. I’ll take care of you now.” He pats the mattress beside him like it’s some great honour.

Namgyu’s face twists in dissatisfaction at that last sentence and he lifts up off of Thanos’ shoulder, reaching up instead. “They’re making us wait too fucking long,” he complains, swinging his weight under the bar on the bed above. “What did we wake up so early for?”

Like he conjured it, the PA system crackles out with a woman’s voice. “Your attention, please,” she recites formally. “The second game will begin momentarily. Please follow the staff’s instructions and swiftly make your way towards the game hall. I will now repeat the instructions.”

You tune it out as Thanos and Namgyu begin hyping each other up, jostling you in the process.

“You go ahead,” Thanos instructs, curling in on himself as he reaches into his jacket. Neither of you move.

Namgyu keeps his eyes on him in suspicion. “What are you doing?”

“Saying a little prayer.” You see the glint of a large silver crucifix that he lays in the palm of his hand. It seems like he thinks he’s concealing it better than he actually is, because even from your vantage point a few steps away, it’s obvious the way he opens it up at the hinge and slips a pill into his mouth.

Namgyu swings around in front of him, blocking your view and lowering his voice into a hush. “What is that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the rapper brushes off, “it’s time to play the game. Let’s do this.” He stuffs the cross back under his jacket and pushes past Namgyu, heading towards the doors with the rest of the players.

As you watch him leave, two hands squeeze the tops of your shoulders, close enough to your neck that his index fingers rest in the hollows of your collarbones. Namgyu forcefully marches you forward, muttering under his breath to himself in excitement.

The previous interaction paired with this manhandling - while admittedly a little thrilling - is making you feel like you’re losing some of your control, and so you take a deep breath and duck down for a moment to break his hold. “See you later,” you say shortly without looking behind you, and stride forward out of arm’s reach.

You can’t track down any of the friends you’ve made, and you end up making your way through the corridors between two strangers, humming along to the cheery violin that serenades you all. Both of them are older men with impassive expressions so you opt not to strike up a conversation.

When you finally reach the broad doorway to the game hall, you immerse yourself into the crowd. You haven’t seen Namgyu or Thanos in the crowd yet, but your heart skips with the familiar thrill of a cat-and-mouse game.

The thought makes you almost reminisce your few encounters with Detective Hwang. You’ve had a few near misses and it was always him on the brink of finding you. Perhaps the genuine strife of being in so deep with the bad men you owed money to as well as how fucked you were if you ever did get taken into custody was so severe that something in your brain chemistry just broke , but the feeling of slipping out of his fingers at the last second is a stronger high than any pill Thanos may have in his pendant.

You can’t help but imagine what he would be doing in this situation. Of course he would’ve voted to leave, but you wonder if he would be rallying up the players like 456, or keeping stoic and alone.

“Players, welcome to the second game. We will begin shortly.”

You break out of your daydreaming at the sound of the voice overhead, and actually take in the space around you for the first time.

It’s not as large as the field, and there’s no open sky above you this time. The painted walls depict apartment-style windows and the sand underfoot is interrupted with two broad, swooping rainbow tracks that form mirroring circles.

The crowd slowly disperses as the PA crackles to life again. “This game will be played in teams.” Fuck. “Please take the next ten minutes to divide into groups of five. I will now repeat the instructions. This game will be-”

You stop paying attention to the voice and do a complete turn on the spot, seeking out potential teammates as large digital panels high on each walll blinks on, counting down from 10:00. Behind you, the doors slide shut.

As people begin to accumulate into groups, you feel someone patting you on the back. You whirl around, expecting to be greeted with one of the boys, but it’s the bespectacled Yongsik with Geumja beside him.

“Are you still looking for a team?” he asks hesitantly. “My mother and I…”

She steps past and reaches out to you, clasping your hands in hers. “I understand if you want to find other people. I’m sure not many want to be stuck with an old woman like me.”

Yongsik begins to protest, as do you. “Don’t be silly,” you chastise warmly, “you were more nimble than almost a hundred people yesterday. I’d be grateful to join you. Do you have any others?”

They don’t, and so you narrow your eyes to track somebody else down. On the other side of the room, Daeho is scouting with a determined gaze. You catch it, and he brightens, holding up a single finger.

Dammit. You sigh, and hold up two in return.

‘You sure?’ he mouths, and after a nod in response, he sighs and returns to his hunt.

As your hand falls down, you hear a sweet voice from beside you. “Excuse me.”

Turning, you’re greeted by a short, timid girl giving you a hopeful stare. “Was it two people you needed?”

You beam. “It is, thank goodness.” You swivel back to quickly wave the mother and son duo over, and when you right yourself it’s Hyunju you see standing protectively beside the young girl. “My Hyunju!”

She blushes, dimples coming out. With a quietly cheeky smile, she quips, “what a small world.”

The pleased expression on her face falters as she lifts her gaze above your right shoulder.

“You insolent fools!” a brazen voice calls out. From behind you, a shrew older woman with a harsh ponytail steps around to stare at the other four, ignoring you completely. “You should’ve sought me out first thing. But instead I had to come to you?” She steps up to them, voice ringing out louder than necessary. “I ought to cut you to shreds.”

It’s Hyunju that speaks up, clearing her throat and holding her hand out towards you. “I apologise, but we have a complete team already.”

Player 044 scoffs, and leisurely spins on the spot to face you. The black rimming her eyes makes them that much more intense as she glares at you. “Absolutely not.”

You straighten up in indignation. “Excuse me?” Your eyes dart up to the closest panel to you as the time dips below two minutes.

“You aren’t destined to be here, little girl. Run off to where you belong.”

In near disbelief, you follow her finger as she points decisively to a spot to her left without even looking. There, a few groups down, Namgyu is standing perfectly still with his eyes locked onto you. You can’t even see his chest move from breathing.

Behind him, Thanos is animatedly speaking with a striking young women with piercings who seems like she’s barely listening. To your surprise, he’s even acting welcoming to the terrified little player beside her. Trying unsuccessfully to catch Thanos’ attention is the guy who’s been stuck to his side like a leech, 256.

“Why would I go there? They have a full team too.”

“They aren’t nice men,” Geumja wheedles out, but her comment goes unaddressed.

The woman simply continues to glare at you until you resign yourself to the fact that she’s not going anywhere; besides, this is wasting precious time. “Fine, thanks a lot for the fortune telling.” You lift your gaze to the others, quickly saying your goodbyes and assuring them you’ll be okay, that you’ll cheer them on.

Like a spell being broken, the second you take a step towards Namgyu and his team he starts back into motion, bouncing on his heels. He turns his back to you at the last minute as if he wasn’t eyeing you up the whole time, so you’re forced to awkwardly clear your throat to catch the group’s attention.

“I, uh, I don’t suppose you could let me join your team,” you question ruefully. Namgyu gives a derisive huff like he can’t believe your audacity, but as his teeth toy with his silver ring, you catch his victorious grin. “I know it’s kind of last minute.”

“We’re at capacity, but thank you,” 256 states bitterly, but falls silent when Thanos places a hand directly in front of his face.

“Woah.” The rapper halts the protest as he furrows his brows at you, bemused as he playfully switches back and forth between Korean and English. “Welcome, my hero. We have space. You’re part of the Thanos family now.” He swivels smoothly on his feet and drops his hand to give 256 an expectant look.

The boy shuffles. “Really? But I’m part of the Thanos family too.”

“Of course ,” Thanos agrees emphatically, a faux expression of sorrow on his face. “But 123 saved my life. You understand, right?”

“Why don’t you get rid of those two, then?”

Thanos doesn’t spare a glance at 125 and 380. He drops his head, letting out a deep sigh. “We have to take care of vulnerable people, don’t we, Gyeongsu? I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t sleep at night knowing I left them to die. Could you?” He takes a breath to nod at his own sage wisdom. “I know you’re strong, my brother. You can lead your own team to victory.”

The boy goes to protest again, but sends an uneasy glance at the timer as it clicks below 60 seconds, and instead rushes off frantically.

380 smirks. “That was brutal.”

“Be grateful, bitch,” Namgyu spits out immediately, making her give a disbelieving laugh.

The young boy beside her dips at the waist, thanking the others profusely, which Thanos seems to find endlessly endearing. He gives a delighted clap when the female PA declares the selection period has ended.

Namgyu approaches, appraising you languidly until he’s close enough to reach out and fist two handfuls of your jacket. “Hey, little 123. I missed you.” A smile plays on his face, teeth dragging over his lower lip as he leans in closer. “If you leave me again, I’ll make sure you get shot.” His words are at odds with the soft way he says it, almost lisping. “You belong with us.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the phrasing eerily similar to what player 044 had said just minutes ago. There’s no time to reply - although you have no idea what you’d even say - as the announcement continues.

The voice directs you all to sit in your teams inside the circles. Wordlessly, the pink guards ensure even numbers on either side. You’re pleased to see your friends have been seated a few teams behind you, and you pump your fists in the air in encouragement. Geumja keeps sending the other woman foul glares, but pauses to wish you luck back.

As you all were settling, more guards had entered, each with black podiums they roll at set intervals around each rainbow track. You crane your neck to catch what they contain, but can’t make any details.

Thanos is antsy, huffing as the time for setup drags on. “By the time this is all done, we’ll be eating dinner.” His legs are splayed out as he leans on his hands behind him, taking up twice as much space as anybody else.

Namgyu concurs, rubbing at his mouth with the cuff of his jacket. “I’m hungry already.”

Still feeling weird about Namgyu’s prior intensity, which seems to have blown away like a stray cloud, you twist around to face the other two instead. They glance up as you introduce yourself.

380 is first to respond. “Semi. This is Minsu.” He makes a brief flicker of eye contact before returning his gaze shyly to his shoes.

“Did you know each other before this?”

“We’re new acquaintances,” Semi corrects. “You and those two?”

You throw your hands up with a defeated shrug. “Who knows?”

She chuckles, leaning forward to take another look at them before resting back again. “They certainly seem to want you around.”

As you return her laugh weakly, you pray your cheeks aren’t flushed. “I’m just ready to put all this behind us. I’ve been promised a home-cooked meal tonight if we make it out of here alive.”

“Jealous.” She lets out a deep sigh, then turns to her friend. “How about it, Minsu? If we get paid out, let’s share some barbecue. I can’t cook for shit.”

The boy in question is unable to hide his blush. He dips his head gratefully, agreeing so quietly you can’t make out any individual word.

Around you, the guards have all come to a halt; some at their stations on the loop, others blocking the closed doors. “The game you will participate in today,” the PA reveals, “is a Six-Legged Pentathlon. Team members will start with their legs tied together. At each ten-meter interval on the track, one member of the team will play a mini-game. If that player wins, the team can move onto the next challenge.”

The five of you - well, four - share glances as she begins to announce what you’ll be playing.

“The mini-games are as follows. Game one: ddakji. Game two: flying stone. Game three: gonggi. Game four: spinning top. And finally, game five: jegi.”

Your shoulders sink more with every one. You vividly remember how fiery your cheek felt after you’d played ddakji with the initial recruiter. Somehow, in all your years you’ve never really developed a knack for sports, or even body coordination. Your heart begins thudding the back of your ribcage at the thought of screwing up and getting your whole team killed.

“You will have five minutes. To win, you must complete all mini-games and cross the finish line before the time runs out. Now, please decide which player will be assigned to each mini-game.”

As she’s speaking, Thanos sits forward and looks down the line. “You guys pick,” he whispers assertively.

“Is anyone confident in one of those games?” you offer up hopefully.

“Leave spinning top with me.” Namgyu lets out a proud huff, mimicking the motions of flinging the spinner.

“I have good aim,” Semi promises. “I can throw the stone.”

Thanos slides his palms together in approval, before his eyes find you. “And?”

You stiffen under four expectant stares. “I’m probably best at gonggi.” While it’s not the easiest one of the games you have left, it’s the one you’ve done the most.

“My boy Minsu, it’s all on you.”

He wilts under the pressure of Thanos’ words. “Ddakji? Unless you want me to do jegi.”

“No, you take ddakji,” Thanos concludes. “I’ll win at jegi, don’t worry, my boy.”

Sooner than you’re sure they’d like, the first two teams are called to the starting line. You watch in horror as black cuffs around their ankles are padlocked on, joining each player to the ones on either side. The hall feels too hot all of a sudden, and you jerkily unzip your jacket and yank it off, leaving it half inside-out on the sand.

Out of the corner of your eye, Namgyu tilts his head towards your chest, openly staring for a few moments before he turns his attention back to the players about to start.

The woman on the PA speaks up. “Team one and team two, get ready to play.” One of the teams tries to cheer each other up, though you see most of them have abject fear on their faces. “With that, let the game begin.”

While the guard in the space between tracks raises a black pistol to the ceiling, Thanos jumps up onto his knees, thrusting a fist in the air. “ Let’s get it! ” he yells, whooping in glee.

Even though you were anticipating it, you flinch when the gunshot snaps through the air.

Everyone else watches with bated breath as the two teams make their way to the first station. While one flips his ddakji on the first try and allows his team to continue onwards, the other misses several times. They get increasingly panicked, and you let out a slow breath when the card finally flips.

At the second station, the original team is caught up on flying stone. The man is so frantic, his throws aren’t even close to the small block ahead of him. Semi watches with a careful gaze, brows pinched together.

After each successful pass the teams celebrate, but most of the time you’re just filled with dread seeing fumbles, trips, stupid mistakes made from rushing.

By the time they’re down to two minutes, the first team is still stuck on the stone throw, four members yelling and scolding the man failing. On the other side, you hear the relieved cheers of passing followed by cries as the team falls over in their haste.

“Oh my god,” you moan lowly, almost unable to watch. They’re at a great disadvantage going first, and you know you have to stay focused to pick up on any strategies and shortfalls.

Past Namgyu, Thanos is up on his knees, an open-mouthed grin frozen on his face as he watches the two teams back and forth like he’s at a tennis match.

The throwing stone team have their imagined success cut short as the pink guard points silently at the player’s foot over the line.

Semi lets out a stiff breath, pulling back. “It’s already over.”

The team fail again and fall silent for a moment. You pretend not to notice Minsu crying silently, though that’s mostly because you’re blinking back tears yourself, keeping your eyes locked on a point on the painted wall well away from the timer.

You try to block out the increasingly loud shouts and cheers from the players and audience alike, but you can’t miss the hauntingly-polite voice of the announcer. “Time’s up. You did not pass the finish line.”

A moment of silence only makes the ensuing gunshots and panicked screams more deafening. Heartlessly, as the eliminated player numbers are announced, the guards reset their stations.

An X voter from the other side of the tracks stands up and cries out hoarsely. “We should have left! Now we’re all gonna die, we’re gonna die because half of you said you wanted to keep doing this!”

Another man steps up to voice his agreement as well, but your attention has been captured by Namgyu, whose face has gone grey. He turns from you and towards Thanos, supplicating himself to the rapper. “Can you… Can you please given me one of those?”

“‘Those?’” Thanos questions, rhythmically rocking back and forth like he’s listening to music.

“Those pills you took,” Namgyu clarifies. “You’re keeping them inside your cross. I saw it.”

With wide eyes, Thanos pauses briefly to give his friend a disbelieving look. “I don’t know what the fuck are you talking about.”

With a desperate whine, Namgyu leans in closer, wringing his hands together. Despite all the strange encounters you’ve had with him, witnessing him so docile - practically submissive - might be the weirdest one yet. “If I get nervous and screw up, we’re all dead. Look at my hands, dude.” From where you are, even you can see the way they’re trembling violently. “They’re shaking like crazy.”

From above, there’s an announcement that the staff will tidy up the game hall before the next pentathlon begins. Your stomach rolls when a door opens to allow a stream of black coffins to be wheeled out on forklifts.

“Look,” Thanos mutters, “Namsu-”

“Namgyu.”

“Right, Namgyu.” Unzipping his jacket, he tightly grips onto the crucifix. “You know what this is?”

“Ecstasy? Ketamine?”

Thanos shakes his head emphatically. “No, this is a new kind. It’s fucking crazy, man . It’s too much for you,” he finishes decisively.

Undeterred, Namgyu offers up his arm, rolling the jacket sleeve up to reveal a gnarly twist of discoloured skin in the crook of his elbow. You’re sure Thanos’ look of genuine shock mirrors your own. “Dude. When I was a promotor, I did all of it. You used to go to Pentagon when I worked there, I’d even bring in all kinds of that crazy exotic shit for you.”

You would laugh, if it weren’t for the occasional glimpse of dead bodies being lifted into coffins. It makes sense that Namgyu had met Thanos before by the way he seems so enamoured.

The latter sighs, and reluctantly reaches into the cross to hand Namgyu a small round pill. He takes it and eagerly crunches it between his teeth, sighing as he settles back into position. Physical or psychological, he already looks calmer.

Beyond the rational disapproval of drug addicts, there’s always been a guilty part of you that is jealous of those that get to waste their lives away on a high. If you don’t stay alert at all times out there, you’re as good as dead. You can’t help but wonder what it must feel like to put all your worries aside and just enjoy the hedonism.

Namgyu catches sight of you watching them and mistakes your expression. With an exaggerated sigh, he knocks Thanos’ shoulder. “Really? You’re not gonna offer your saviour a little happy pill either?”

“What?” you huff, Thanos across from you looking equally perturbed.

“Look at her, man,” Namgyu cuts his eyes to you, a sly grin curling his lip, “she’s scared shitless. You should be showing her your gratitude, not holding out.”

“Watch it,” Thanos warns darkly.

You scoff indignantly. “Not all of us are drug addicts, Namgyu.”

He chuckles low in his throat but looks right past you to Minsu, who’s been keeping an uneasy eye on the exchange. His smile widens. “What?”

Minsu quickly averts his gaze. “Nothing.”

Clumsily, Namgyu clambers around to sit cross-legged again, carelessly jostling you. “Hey, what’s your name again?”

“Minsu,” the boy softly offers up.

You feel a little awkward with them talking across you, but Namgyu clearly doesn’t mind as he leans right across until you’re forced to shuffle backwards a bit, legs bent in front of you. “Minsu… Minsu, what’s that old Admiral Yi-Sun quote?”

Behind Minsu, Semi lets out a barely audible ‘fuck’s sake’ and turns away, rubbing her temple in frustration. Expectedly, Minsu just sits in uncertain silence until Namgyu continues.

With a puffed chest, he declares magnanimously, “‘those who seek life shall die. Those who seek death shall live.’ Okay, everyone? Just go in like you’re gonna die anyway. Tell yourself you don’t care what happens to you.” He gives you all a broad grin. “We’ll win this thing, take our cash, and get the fuck out of here.”

Semi lets out a disgusted noise, turning to glare at him. “Hey, don’t order us around.”

Namgyu blinks. “Me?” His eyes flit to you for some reason, and as you bite down on your cheeks to hold back a smile, you wonder if he’s expecting you to come to his defense.

“Yeah, you.” Semi’s eyes dart down. “Nice shaky hands, asshole.”

“Look who’s on her period. Bitch.”

Minsu looks like he’d rather be held at gunpoint than sitting in between the two of them. Semi just shakes her head in response, opting to give up and just watch the clean-up crew.

“Hey,” Namgyu murmurs in your ear, and you jump hearing the rumble of his voice so close. Gone are the dead eyes that were insulting his fellow teammate. Instead, his tongue presses the side of his cheek as he reaches out to rest his hand on your knee. “You don’t have to pretend. You don’t want to get high, that’s okay. There are other ways I can help you to relax.”

His quick mood change-ups always give you whiplash, and this time is no different. “ Seriously? ”

You see the outline as his tongue keeps moving, over his teeth this time. You wonder idly if he’s chasing every last granule of the pill. Slowly, his hand moves further around, fingers pressing on the crook of your knee. Despite the relatively innocuous location, there’s something weirdly intimate about it, and you feel too hot even with just your T-shirt on as he pulls lightly, making your legs part just a bit more. “You can be quiet, can’t you?”

It’s the reminder that there’s an entire room of people that brings you crashing back down to reality. You don’t have to look away to know that - if no one else - Thanos and Minsu have absolutely witnessed this entire thing. You swallow thickly, trying to look unimpressed. “Has the pill kicked in that fast, or are you always such a whore?”

He sits back slowly, smile gradually falling. His hand, however, remains a warm weight on your knee. “Suit yourself.”

You can’t bear to make eye contact with your fellow teammates, but as the next announcement calls the following two teams to the tracks, you don’t have to.

It’s the team you were originally a part of. Hyunju, her friend, Geumja, Yongsik, and the woman that kicked you out. Your heart stops, seeing the terrified looks on their faces. Like an electric shock, the realisation flashes in your head that there’s a strong chance they’ll be dead in five minutes.

Before you have a chance to even think, instinct takes over. You’re springing up, Namgyu’s hand tossed off of you, and rushing over to them.

You barely notice two of the pink guards straighten up in alarm, guns at the ready. Instead, you throw your arms around a bewildered Hyunju, eyes stinging with tears so much you can’t even open them.

After a moment, she relaxes into the embrace, and even stretches a strong arm around your back to hold you close for a few beats longer. You pull back reluctantly and stare up at her. “I believe in you. You’ll make it out of here in no time and I’ll see you again when I’m done.”

She tries to give you a reassuring smile, but it falls short.

Down the line, heart thudding like you’re the one about to race, you tightly hug Geumja with her delicate but wiry frame, Yongsik with his awkward but well-intentioned pat on your shoulder, and the new girl. You may not have really spoken to her, but it’s clear she needs a hug too.

Finally, it’s the older woman that stands in front of you, with more dread on her face than you would’ve expected given how certain of herself she was before. “Ah, what the hell,” you mutter quickly, and pull her into a two-second hug as well.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Geumja point behind you with a worried face, as Hyunju calls your name in warning.

The tell-tale click of a gun ready to fire sounds behind you.

From above, the PA. “There are to be no interactions with teams that are competing in the race. All waiting players, return to your seats.” You could swear there’s a scolding tone hidden in her impassive voice.

You fight the urge to give the guard or the speakers ahead the finger, deciding it’s not worth the risk. It’s harder, however, to force yourself to go back and sit in the vacant gap you left behind, as you hear a set of padlocks slotting into place.

“Fraternising with the enemy?” Namgyu teases once you sit back down.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He recoils, but does the wise thing and falls silent, sulkily flicking the sand in front of him.

The gun fires.

#squid game fic #squid game x reader #namgyu fic #namgyu x reader #hyunju fic #hyunju x reader #cho hyunju

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ducksido · 3 months ago

Note

Can you do some twst characters with a Yuu that (non sexually) age regresses? like not to a baby type age, more of an older toddler to 1st grader age (whatever that is...) because that was normally the mental state i was in when i used to regress, for characters i would specifically like Kalim, ruggie, ortho, grim, and maybe a teacher!!! any other characters if you have ideas for them are welcome!! dont pressure urself to do more tho lolz :))

when i used to regress it was due to me being in bad moods or just feeling comfortable around a person enough to be able to let go for a bit, so for a scenario it could be just hanging out with the person if its more of a story type thing, if its more headcanons (which i dont mind!) you can come up with the scenario!! id love to see what you come up with :D

dont feel pressured to do this and its totally ok if u dont want to write this request!!! thanks for the fics and making my day more enjoyable <33 ☀️

(alright i'll attempt)

Kalim Al-Asim – “You can always be little with me!”

Kalim loves that you trust him enough to let your walls down. He’s sunshine on full blast when you start regressing around him—not because he’s clueless, but because he genuinely wants to give you a happy, safe space.

He’ll be like, “Oh! You feeling small today? That’s okay! Wanna color? I got so many markers!”

Breaks out his childhood coloring books from the palace. They’re fancy ones with gold-trimmed edges and sparkly stickers.

If you feel quiet and unsure, he’ll never push. He just scoots closer, hums a silly song, and lets you slowly inch into the moment.

His lap is always available. You’ll often end up snuggled under a light silk throw while he reads to you in an animated voice.

“This dragon sounds scary, but he’s actually just lonely! See? He’s like—‘rawr, give me a hug!!’”

He gets so into it, using puppets and plushies to act out stories. If you giggle, he looks like he just won a gold medal.

Comfort item: He’ll gift you a little plush elephant named “Tofu.” He says Tofu is brave and soft—just like you.

Ruggie Bucchi – “You can chill out here, yeah?”

At first, Ruggie’s a little surprised the first time you regress around him. But once he clocks that you’re not being silly—you’re being you, just a smaller you—he shifts immediately into Big Brother Mode™.

“Ah, so you’re feelin’ all small and soft today, huh? Aight. Come here, lemme tuck you under the blanket.”

He’s practical. If you’re regressing because you’re overstimmed or tired, he handles all the “adult” stuff without making a big deal out of it. “Don’t worry ‘bout cleanin’ up—go ahead and nap. I got it.”

He brings you rice crackers and juice in a cup with a silly straw. You get first dibs on the remote. Cartoons all day.

If anyone dares make fun of you? He shuts that down. “Hey. You laugh, you leave. Got it?”

He teases a little when you’re doing better—"Yuu, you drooled on the blanket again!"—but it’s always gentle and never mean.

Favorite moment: Watching your eyes light up when he teaches you how to fold a paper crane. He ends up making a whole flock with you.

Ortho Shroud – “I’ve read about this! Don’t worry—I’ll help!”

Ortho understands regression in a very literal sense, but that just means he’s very eager to learn how to support you. He stores everything you tell him in his memory banks for future reference.

“Okay! When Yuu is small, they like juice, warm socks, and picture books. Got it!”

He adjusts his voice modulation to sound softer and less robotic when you're regressed—he thinks it's less overwhelming.

Plays simple games with you, like stacking blocks or “spot the sparkly rock” treasure hunts around the garden.

He once programmed a mini-hologram show of your favorite story so you could see it like a stage play with sparkles and sound effects. “Tada! All done just for you!”

If you get sad or scared while regressed, he sits close and hums lullabies in perfect tune, projecting soft glowing lights like a starry ceiling.

Bonus: Idia sees you like this once and gets super flustered. “Wha—huh? You—you look like a tiny baby human—Ortho, help!!” Ortho just rolls his eyes and tucks a blanket over you.

Grim – “I guess I’ll let you nap on me... just this once.”

Grim acts like it’s a huge inconvenience when you regress, but the second you curl up and babble in that tiny, sleepy voice? His tail is thumping like crazy.

“Ugh, fine. Climb up here. You’re heavy—but I’m strong, so I guess it’s okay.”

He’s weirdly good at playing pretend. One time, you wanted to be a pirate and he brought you a pot lid as a shield and declared himself Captain Grimbeard.

Puts on a brave face for you. If you’re scared or anxious in your regressed state, he puffs up and hisses at your fears. “No nightmares on my watch!”

You sometimes cling to his fur when you’re deep in regression, and while he grumbles, he secretly preens about it. “Y’know... you’re lucky I like you, hench-human.”

Grim's love language: letting you rest on his stomach while he complains loudly about it, but won’t move for hours.

Professor Trein – “Childhood is not something to be ashamed of.”

Trein is gentle and deeply respectful when he realizes what your regression is. He doesn’t see it as immature—he sees it as vulnerable and human, something that deserves protection and compassion.

He’ll guide you through the library and pull down classic children’s books to read aloud. His voice is low and soothing like warm tea.

“Would you like to try reading this one aloud yourself? I’ll help with the big words.”

Lucius always seems to know when you're regressed and will curl up in your lap like you're the most precious thing in the world.

Professor Trein will brew calming tea (or warm milk if you prefer) and let you sit near the hearth with a thick blanket and your favorite book.

He has a drawer of old toys from his daughters—wooden puzzles, a soft cloth doll, worn but lovingly kept—and offers them to you without judgment.

Most comforting moment: “It is not foolish to need care,” he tells you one day, as you sit quietly by his desk. “In fact, recognizing it is a sign of wisdom.”

Bonus: Leona – “Tch. Alright, get over here.”

Will act annoyed but will let you nap curled against his side the entire afternoon. Plays with your hair lazily while you drift off.

“No one bothers ‘em. Got it?” is all he has to say to the rest of the dorm. And no one does.

His tail occasionally sways over your lap as a comfort rhythm. You fall asleep watching it move back and forth.

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thepainthereigntheflame · 3 months ago

Text

Some more notes about the Inside Look footage of Murderbot

I can't stop thinking about this. I also love seeing everyone react to my theories with their own because it make me rethink my theories. Soooo, here we go.

1) PresAux being besties

I love them so so so so so much!!! Look at them! Their little painted habitat. Their colorful clothes. My little space hippies that I need to put in my pocket and keep them save.

Rattih playing his little space-ukulele. Pin-Lee on the drum block thing. I love them! Mensa and Bharadwaj going all out on their dance break. And Gurathin doing his little shimmy in the background - god, he is so awkward I deeply love him. I just know Murderbot is watching this thinking "humans are so fucking weird".

2) Free agent Murderbot

This is probably not a deep cut and kinda obvious but this seems to be the scene after Mensa buys Murderbot and it gets to join the Preservation team in the hotel!!

I loooove that this has been made into a team scene where they all sit together. Look at them all being happy!!! Look at sweet angel Arada bringing Murderbot its own set of Preservation clothes! God, I love them. I love them SO MUCH. Plus their style is chefs kiss!! The costume and concept department deserves the biggest raise. Also love Murderbots look here.

3) 'I sure hope a combat override module isnt making me feel this weird'

Okay, back to the more grim scenes:

Murderbot, it's not looking good. I think this is in the DeltFall habitat after Murderbot gets taken down by the evil SecUnits and Mense saved it. Mense is pulling Murderbot back to the hopper. Poor babygirl (gn) isn't looking too good here. Are those sparks coming from you, Murderbot? I am obsessed with this clip. Osessed with the lighting; Obsessed with Murderbots look; Obsessed with how overwhelming it looks. It seems they perfectly captured how the combar override module and shut-down make it feel.

4) Dr Mensa this is against...

We all know Mensa is a badass girlboss. At first look I thought it was Mensa helping Murderbot at DeltFall - it's in the book, it would make sense. But the more I look at it, especially the background, the more I feel like that's the Preservation habitat or hopper. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the lighting that's throwing me off (DF is cool tones and dark and blue. This shot is bright and warm thanks to the weapon fire). I'm curious what it ends up being 👀

5) Evil SecUnits!!

Look at these evil SecUnits and their black and blue armor and tell me that's not the sexiest thing you have ever seen! (I'm using sexy very loosely here. To me even a F1 qualifying lap can be sexy.) Incredible design. So so cool!!! And if you have seen my trailer breakdown, I theorized that they might make the evil survey units black as a visual contrast and I am so happy to see I was right!!! I love this design so much. So so much. Once again: The design & costume departments deserve a BIG raise!

Also looking at these screenshots, it seems they take place after this one👇, which means it could be the final confrontation between Evil Survey and Preservation!

6) More of murderbots systems

I love that we get to see some of Murderbots analysis and feed alerts. Attack detacted? Slay. That is so cool I love this visual representation of the data it's getting. So cool. I love this show. I can't wait to watch it. And I can't believe it's already May!!! It's Murderbot May!!! We are so close to getting this. Aaahhh!!!

#murderbot #murderbot tv show #murderbot diaries #murderbot trailer #murderbot la #murderbot tv #tmd #mbtv

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nowimjustastranger · 2 months ago

Note

How would Watchdog Ford approach an existential crisis / emergency like this?

He's seen Fords do some messed up things to Stan's (and vice versa) even in the name of love, but this isn't about love anymore. This is about control to the detriment of the person you're supposed to love.

It's cruelty disguised as care.

Omg I read that post too! Chilling stuff. You summed it up perfectly, Tin!

Once Watchdog gets a read on the grim situation via stalking skills, his first priority is getting Stan out of the chamber. He'd talk Stan through it as he used his hacking skills to override the system and start the process of releasing Stan's... essence? Soul? from his prison.

The helmet would be off too so Stan can hear his voice instead of the robotic modulator, using the fact that he sounded like Stan's brother to his advantage.

Considering that Stan doesn't actually have a body, Watchdog will most likely summon The Axolotl and hand Stan off to it so he can finally be laid to rest. It's the best option since, once a soul is in The Axolotl's possession, no one can get it back unless The Axolotl allows it. Which is very rare.

#gravity falls #side quest #somebody to call my own au #stcmo au #watchdog ford #ford pines #stan pines #stan and ford #stan twins #ask box #tw: captivity #tw: isolation

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areyoufuckingcrazy · 2 months ago

Text

“Tactical Sovereignty” pt.1

Delta Squad x Reader

The shuttle ride to Coruscant was smooth, but your stomach churned all the same.

Neutral or not, your planet had always walked a razor-thin line between the Republic and the Separatists. You'd kept your distance from the Senate's chaos, balancing diplomacy and independence with every word your advisors crafted. But that balancing act had finally cracked—threats were no longer whispers. Intelligence confirmed the Separatists planned to make an example of your world, dragging it into the war one way or another.

And so, here you were. Dressed in ceremonial finery, face calm and regal, though you could feel the edge of tension behind your eyes.

The doors of the Senate hangar hissed open with practiced ease. Sunlight filtered in through the tall skylights, glinting off the white armor of clones stationed around the platform. But it was not the standard guard detail that caught your attention.

Four soldiers stood in perfect formation near your platform—distinct from the white-armored ranks. Their matte, battle-scarred Katarn-class armor was painted in bold, individualized designs. There was no mistaking who they were.

Delta Squad.

You'd been briefed: elite commandos, the Republic's surgical scalpel for missions too grim for standard troopers. Your planet had refused Jedi intervention to avoid implying alignment with either side. Delta Squad, however, was a compromise the Senate could stomach—and you could accept.

They stepped forward in perfect sync.

The one in front spoke first. His voice was crisp and measured, modulated slightly by his helmet's filter.

"Princess. We're your assigned protection detail. RC-1138, designation: Boss. The rest of my squad is RC-1140, Fixer—technical support and slicing. RC-1207, Sev—sniper and demolitions. And RC-1262, Scorch—explosives and comic relief, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Scorch piped in, helmet tilted as if offended. "I'm charming."

"Delusional," Sev muttered, voice gravelly, a hint darker than the rest.

You blinked, caught somewhere between amusement and confusion. They weren't what you expected. Not at all.

"I expected...something more formal," you said, arching an eyebrow.

"We can be formal," Fixer said blandly. "It just slows us down."

Boss took a step forward. "With your permission, we'll assume control of your schedule while on Coruscant. We'll be with you at all public appearances. Close protection protocol."

"And when I'm in private?" you asked carefully, testing the waters.

"Two-man rotating shifts outside your quarters. No listening devices. We're not spies," Boss replied.

That earned your approval. You gave a nod, regal and crisp. "Accepted."

Boss gestured to a waiting speeder. "Senator Organa has requested a diplomatic briefing in an hour. We move now."

⸻

The speeder weaved through Coruscant traffic like a silver bullet, flanked by a second vehicle carrying additional Coruscant Guard escorts. You sat in the primary seat with Fixer beside you, focused on scanning the skies through his HUD, silent and still. Boss rode in the front with the pilot. Scorch and Sev were in the tail speeder, handling long-range overwatch.

"What's your planet like?" Fixer asked suddenly, not looking at you.

You glanced sideways. "Peaceful. Or it was. Mountains, rivers, a lot of ancient forest. We prize education, diplomacy, culture."

"Never been there," he said simply. "Sounds better than Kamino."

"Kamino?"

"Rain, endless ocean, cold. We trained there."

"I suppose that makes you all excellent swimmers."

Fixer almost smirked. "Not by choice."

⸻

You reached the diplomatic annex of the Senate without incident. Senator Organa met with you in a secured chamber. The meeting lasted forty minutes. You discussed trade routes, neutral standing, defensive aid. Boss stood behind you, arms crossed. Fixer guarded the door. It felt safe.

It didn't last.

As you exited the annex through a marble-floored hallway—Delta Squad surrounding you—something shifted. Boss stopped mid-step. His helmet tilted.

"Hold. Sev, you see this?"

"Infrared ping, upper alcove—movement," Sev's voice crackled in.

Fixer drew his weapon. "Thermals picking up a secondary heat source—side corridor, left. Someone's here."

The world went silent. Your heart leapt into your throat.

"DOWN!" Boss barked—and shoved you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs.

A blaster bolt screamed past your head—dead on target. It would have killed you.

Fixer returned fire instantly, sending bolts at the darkened alcove above. Scorch's voice blared over the comms: "Explosive signatures detected—get her out of there!"

Boss was already grabbing you by the arm, dragging you behind a marble column. His body shielded yours as the hallway erupted in smoke and fire—micro-charges along the wall, precisely placed.

Sev's sniper bolt rang like thunder. Someone screamed.

"Status!" Boss barked.

"One shooter down," Sev reported. "Second's fleeing. I've got eyes."

"Fixer—route!"

"Emergency exit tunnel, three meters left of the statue. Let's go!"

You were already running—your fine dress torn and scorched, one slipper gone, heartbeat in your ears. Scorch was waiting at the exit point, rifle raised, expression grim.

"They really want you dead," he muttered as he covered your retreat.

⸻

Once safe inside a secured speeder again—this one driven manually by Fixer—you were shaking. Not visibly. You didn't dare shake in front of them. You were a princess. Trained since childhood not to flinch.

But Boss sat across from you, watching silently. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"They knew your route. Your schedule. Someone inside the Senate leaked your movements."

You met his gaze, breathing steady. "Then find them."

Boss nodded slowly.

"We will."

⸻

The durasteel doors to your temporary apartment slid open with a gentle hiss, revealing a space clearly meant for Senators: high ceilings, soft light panels, and a panoramic view of Coruscant's skyline. If not for the adrenaline still hammering in your veins, you might have appreciated it more.

Delta Squad fanned out instantly.

Boss took point, scanning the room. Fixer moved straight to the control panel to run a full security sweep. Sev was already at the windows, eyes behind his visor tracking the distant rooftops. Scorch stood near you, helmet tilted with what you imagined was either concern or curiosity.

"Clear," Boss confirmed after a full sweep. "Perimeter is locked down. No entry without authorization."

"You're safe," Fixer added. "For now."

You exhaled deeply for the first time in what felt like hours.

Your gown was a wreck—torn at the hem, soot smudged across the bodice, and the fine embroidery near your collar scorched where the blaster bolt had almost found your throat. You were a vision of royal dishevelment, but you held your chin high.

"I'm going to need something far stronger than Senate flattery to calm my nerves."

You turned and made your way to the apartment's bar—a tasteful, recessed alcove behind polished panels. Crystal decanters glimmered invitingly under soft ambient lights.

"I assume none of you drink on duty?" you said, already pouring something amber and sharp into a glass.

Scorch laughed. "Well—technically, no. But—"

"Correct. We don't," Boss said sharply, cutting him off. His tone was clipped. Commanding. "We're here to protect, not relax."

Sev, standing by the window, shrugged with a hint of insolence. "Bit late for formality, sir. We already got shot at today."

Scorch grinned under his helmet and stepped forward. "Princess, if you're offering, I'd be rude not to accept."

You offered them both a smug, satisfied smile as you handed over two glasses. "A wise decision. Besides, I insist. It's the least I can do for the men who threw themselves in front of a blaster bolt for me."

Boss crossed his arms. "Scorch. Sev. Stand down. That's an order."

Scorch raised the glass to eye level. "Technically, I am standing down, sir."

Boss didn't laugh. Fixer gave a barely audible sigh from the control panel.

"You realize this is not a vacation," Boss muttered, voice edged with quiet irritation.

"No, but I'm not dead yet, so I'll celebrate that," Sev replied darkly, sipping from his glass.

You perched elegantly on one of the barstools, legs crossed, swirling your drink. The warm burn in your throat did little to shake the cool superiority you wore like a cloak. You were still standing, still regal—even in tatters.

"So tell me," you said, eyes on Boss now, tone arch and just slightly mocking. "Do you ever take that helmet off, or is 'intimidating silhouette' your full personality?"

Fixer snorted. Sev muttered something about "finally, someone says it." Scorch laughed aloud.

Boss didn't respond. He only turned away to resume his patrol of the suite, clearly not taking the bait.

You sipped again, then glanced toward the door when the comm chimed.

"You expecting visitors?" Fixer asked sharply.

"I am," you said smoothly. "I sent word ahead."

Boss looked like he was about to object, but before he could, the door slid open to reveal two finely dressed Senators: Senator Meelari of Aleron and Senator T'vaen of Cerea. Both were close allies—well-meaning and reliable political shields who never challenged your rhetoric too hard.

"Princess!" Meelari swept forward dramatically. "We heard what happened! We were horrified. The very idea that someone would attack you—on Coruscant of all places!"

"I'm flattered by your concern," you said, standing with the poise of a queen rather than someone who'd nearly died hours ago. "But as you can see, I'm quite difficult to kill."

T'vaen bowed respectfully. "I trust the Republic will be investigating thoroughly?"

"They're already on it," Boss said without turning around.

Your smile sharpened. "I have the best the Republic can offer," you said, glancing toward Delta Squad. "Elite commandos, bred for precision, loyalty, and efficiency. Though they're not particularly chatty."

"Ah," Meelari said, giving them a brief nod. "Clones."

You stiffened slightly. You heard the subtle condescension in his tone. It wasn't overt, but it was there.

"Not just clones," you said coolly. "They are the blade that keeps the Republic alive. The only reason any of us can still sit in the Senate and pretend our ideals matter."

Boss said nothing—but you could sense he heard it. All of them did.

Senator T'vaen smiled tightly. "Ever the moral voice of the chamber, Princess. Your conviction is admirable."

"It's not conviction," you said, turning your glass lazily in your hand. "It's truth. The Republic doesn't win because of speeches or trade deals. It wins because these soldiers bleed on nameless planets while Senators bicker about budget cuts. I simply acknowledge the obvious."

Sev muttered under his breath: "She's not wrong."

Meelari tried to laugh off the moment, clearly uneasy. "Of course, of course. But we came to check on you, not start another debate. Is there anything you need, anything your world requires for additional security?"

You smiled—brilliant and disarming. "Only continued support in the Senate. And perhaps a little more admiration."

Your guests chuckled, flattered and distracted. You basked in it. You always did. Praise was your oxygen—and you'd never learned how to breathe without it.

Boss approached you quietly when the Senators drifted toward the window to admire the view.

"You shouldn't be entertaining guests yet," he said, voice low.

You tilted your chin up at him. "Do I look like I require rest, Commander?"

"You look like a high-value target who's still very much in danger."

You leaned in slightly, voice just above a whisper. "Then you'll just have to keep me alive, won't you?"

Boss didn't flinch. "That's the job."

You smiled slowly. "Good."

⸻

Next Part

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weniswastelandwenis · 1 month ago

Text

Fallout 4 Companions React to Fishing

Cait:

She has rather fishlike qualities that have led her to her point in life. She relies on fish, always has. Fish protect her, and fish are what everything in her life boils down to. She is offended and enraged that sole wants to hurt a fish, and she demands that they fight it out in the ring.

When sole arrives for the duel cait brings her fish friends for support, and an array of dolphins, mermaids, salmon, bass, and trout are all there in support of cait.

Soles mouth starts to water as they stare at the fish hungrily. Cait takes the opportunity to sucker punch sole in the face and they fall, unconscious in slow motion and hit their head on a stool and break their neck.

Sole survives but is paralyzed, and sole begs cait to remove their breathing tube and end their suffering. Cait refuses, “now ye know how the fish feel.” She says with a scornful frown.

Codsworth:

It had been years since he’d seen sole. Ever since he found out about their pregnancy and disappeared, the years had turned into a haze of drugs and random women.

Codsworth was beat down, tired, and hungover when they finally met again on the shore. Codsworth nodded to the fishing pole in soles hand, “fishing are ye?” He asked awkwardly. Sole simply blinked.

“So uh, where is the little toaster?” He asked. Sole again said nothing, and turned to cast their line into the sea. “Is he here?” A single tear rolled down soles cheek.

“He died, when I gave him his first bath.” Codsworth was shocked by how little remorse he felt, the years had truly hardened him.

Sole turned to Codsworth with tears in their eyes, “but you’re here now right? Forever?” They asked hopefully. Codsworth could only nod, how could he leave again?

Codsworth returned home finally, but yet after hours of celebrating his return, Sole wakes up to find all their money and valuables gone. Codsworth left nothing but an empty pack of cigarettes and a note that said, “thanks for the ride, love.”

Curie:

“I am interezted in zis’ activitee zou call fishinge!” she exclaimed to Sole, who didn’t seem to hear her as they were recasting their line.

“Helloh? Perhaps my audio modulators are malfunctioninge?” Sole was delicately reapplying a wriggling worm to their hook, but at the sound of Curies’ voice, they crushed it entirely into nonexistence. “Zat littol worme did not deserve such cruelty…”

Just as Curie looked back up, Sole was facing them, shadows casting harshly on their face as it was newly dusk.

“I’ve had enough… I’m ready to admit my true feelings…”

Curie’s robo-brow furrowed. “Vewy well.”

“I hate your stupid voice, I hate your stupid character, I hate breathing your air, seeing your face, and even hearing your name!!! I wish you never existed, you robo-bimbo! Hop in your sexbot body and walk on out of here before I do something I’ll really regret…” All the worms were now gone from Sole’s bucket, reduced to spliced atoms in the atmosphere from the intensity of their clenching fist.

“Oh… I see…” Curie looked down sadly. “If zat’s how you feel, zen I won’t bother you any longere…”

Curie hovered to the edge of Sanctuary in the grim darkness, looked back one last time to see Sole do a cutting-throat motion over their throat, and left never to be seen again.

Danse:

Danse firmly believes that you must teach a man to fish, not fish for them. He drives sole out to the farthest mountains in the wilderness and leaves them with a half empty toolbox and a knife. “I expect a bounty of fish, soldier.” He orders, and leaves them out there for a couple days.

When he returns, sole is another person entirely. They are not the sole he once knew. They have dead fish heads in a necklace around their neck, and seemed to have fish-like features of their own. Their eyes seemed to separate and fear each other now, as they stretched far apart and their lips were wide and fishlike too.

“What happened to you, soldier?” He asked. Sole simply stared at him silently. He noticed gills on the side of their face as they blinked worldlessly.

“Did you catch any fish?” Danse asked, and a sick smile slowly spread across soles face.

“The only thing I’ll be catching is you.” Sole said in a strange, garbled voice. The last thing Danse saw before he died was a giant fish net descending over him.

Deacon:

Deacon has to do things the silly way, he needs some extra pizazz in each step of the process. First he bedazzles the fishing poles and wears a garish suit to the event. Every time sole gets anywhere close to catching a fish, he scares them away with his loud jokes and bright sequins.

Sole decides they’ve finally had enough of this disruption. Sole ditches deacon in the woods by the lake and never returns. They had finally had enough of deacon and they steal all his caps on their way out. They see him again years later when they run into each other at the supermarket.

“Catch any fish?” Deacon asks, still wearing a sequin suit and cowboy hat. Sole pretends not to know who he is and leaves promptly.

Hancock:

Being a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, Hancock preferred to toke out, mushroom up, and meth-on, watching the occasion instead of participating. One misty summer evening, in the midst of Deacon miscalculating the direction of his pole, he caught Hancock by he britches and threw him into the ocean.

All the companions gasped and ran to the edge where Deacon continued fishing with his giant pole full-mast with a huge grin on his face. Thrashing ensued along with ghoul bubbles which eventually faded.

The last one popped and Sole began weeping, shaking their giant handkerchief at the sky as Piper attempted to console them. Then…

“FISH ON! FISH ON!” Deacon ejaculated, and began fighting for his very life against a giant monster fish! Sole watched and prayed, hoping it was their ghoulsband on the other end of the line.

The sun rose and set, the companions took turns sitting in lawn chairs watching Deacon attempt to reel in the fish + would go home as their AI told them too until the next day.

Finally… “EUREKA!” Deacon exclaimed, holding up a giant writhing SALMON that weighed at least 140 lbs, basically Hancock size!

Sole’s teary eyes gasped and took 3 long strides before arriving at Deacon, knocking him off his feet with a meaty right hook. “That’s my HUSBAND you’re manhandling!”

Sole squinted at it, shrugged, and unhooked the fish. They put a tricorn hat on it, gave it some drugs, and walked hand and fin back to Sanctuary where they’ve been happily married ever since.

MacCready:

He believes the best way to catch a fish is to become a fish. You’ve got to get down in the dirt with them, manipulate them.

Make them think you’re their friend until the last minute. Maccready was a menace and he knew how to hustle a fish. With some smooth talking and an exchange of caps he actually found himself bartering quite well.

Maccready makes a deal with the fish under his breath, and when sole asks him about it he pretends not to know what they’re talking about. Later that night, sole is awoken by the sound of fish tails slapping against the cold pavement of sanctuary hills.

They opened the door to their house and fish flooded through the door, avalanching them. Maccready had conspired with the fish to take over the settlement and its resources, and sole was eaten alive by fish.

Rumors of the fish town led by a ruthless man traveled across the lands. If you’re ever traveling past Sanctuary hills, turn and go the other way.

Valentine:

One day, Sole was invited to Valentine’s headquarters, and asked to only bring one thing: their fishing pole. Rumor says the two were seen around bodies of water doing suspicious activities… Sole would fish while Valentine covered them, gun close to his chest and scanning the area with yellow eyes.

Finally, one day Sole and Nick hosted a community commonwealth fish stew. Folks from all walks of life showed up in droves: Humans, Super-Mutants, Ghouls…

They were amazing hosts, making sure everyone had their soup bowls flowing and bottomless.

Then Sole tapped Valentine’s shoulder, eyes locked onto someone in particular, all while holding a special soup bowl in her arms protectively. Together they approached… Skinny Malone.

“Hey, skinny. Long time no see…” Nick drawled smoothly.

“Well well well if it isn’t our dick detective tin can.” He said shittily.

Sole smirked to themselves, knowing that skinny couldn’t deny a bowl of soup.

“What say we…put our past history behind us, just this night, and enjoy a classic American home cooked meal, eh?”

Skinny laughed in his face, but eagerly yanked the soup out of Sole’s hands and chugged it all in one go. Sole and Nick looked at eachother, smiling.

“What… What did you two…do to me!?” Then, skinny fell over dead like a beached whale. Sole and Nick disposed of him quickly and quietly, not wanting to ruin the soup night for the rest of the commonwealth.

Piper:

She knows there’s a story to be found here, and she investigates each fish through extensive interviews. When the fish refuse to talk to her, she decides to take matters further.

She and Sole delve into the deepest, darkest vault and find a robobrain.

Through Nick’s extensive knowledge in robots, they remove the old human brain and hook up the fish brain in its place.

The fish reveals to them that they are against the liberal press and refuse to do the interview. Sole and Piper both roll their eyes at the tiny brain speaking to them through the robobrain’s speakers.

Sole and Piper vow to end all fish consciousness forever.

Preston:

Fishing has always been the only thing that’s ever mattered to him. He is fish. Fish is he. Preston would not rest until all the fish in the sea had been dominated by him. Preston has always known this about himself, and when sole asks to go fishing he takes the task very seriously.

He wakes up before dawn and dives into the water to greet the fish for their soon to be demise. When Preston is down in the ocean, he sees something glinting in the water. A gun!

Preston decides to try fishing another way and starts firing into the water, hitting many fish. He gathers the bullet ridden fish to feed the settlers until he feels the ground start to shake!!

A large, wrinkled fish head emerged from the water and looked at him wisely.

“Preston,” it said, “you must never fire into my seas. You undignified, dim witted, sleaze.”

Preston scoffed and tried to fire, only to find he was out of bullets. The fish shook its large weathered face sadly. Some humans would never understand to respect the sea.

The fish took Preston in its mouth and swallowed, so that he could not hurt its children anymore.

Strong:

He would wrestle fish out of the water with his bare hands and eat them golem style.

X6:

He heard fish was Father’s favorite meal, and set out in the wasteland donning only two laser rifles. He was a professional through and through, and this quest would be no different.

“Target acquired…” he whispered to himself coldly as he spotted a nearby river.

His eyes scanned the body of water and locked on to each individual fish harbored there, shooting with intense precision without a single error. After the smoke settled, hundreds of fish floated dead to the surface. He grabbed them all by the armful, pocketed them, and moved on to the next area.

He would do this for months on end, gathering every single fish in the area of the commonwealth, then preparing them into fine luxury meals. Fish sticks, Seafood Stews, Fish Florentine, Ceviche, Seared Tuna, Tuna Tostadas, Lobster Rolls, Miso Salmon to name a few.

Finally, after 1 year of harvesting and preparing, he looked over the wasteland which was even more of a wasteland than it was before. Operation defishization: complete.

Though he could not feel, there was some small glitch in his brain that fired off, perhaps excitement, as he roamed the Institute to find Father, hundreds of fish dishes in hand, all pristinely procured, baked, and sorted.

Location spotted: bathroom.

X6-88 silently entered the men’s bathroom to find father’s pants around his ankles as he peered under the stall. Father noticed a shadow of someone standing before his closed door.

“Can I help you?” He finally uttered out.

“No, but I can help you.”

A moment or two later, a flushing of a toilet. A creaking of a door.

Father stood before x6-88 who took up the entire doorway of the public restroom stall, not just because he was a large and impressive man, but because he harbored thousands upon thousands of seafood dishes in his arms, all balanced perfectly, flavorfully, and physically.

“What is this?” Was all Father said.

X6-88 was at a loss for words. Was he not pleased?

“Last year, in the month of January 22, you remarked that you liked fish as your favorite dinnertime meal. Is this incorrect?”

In one sweeping motion, father shoved at X6-88, who allowed himself to be shoved aside, the dishes all clattering on the cold bathroom tile. A giant mess to be cleaned up by a lower-class, beta synth.

“I just said that so you would leave me alone, you fool!” he yelled over the loud stream of the sink, and the stream of an employee at a neighboring urinal.

“I see.” X6 said flatly, robotically. He didn’t utter another word and walked out of the bathroom, never to don another “kiss the cook!” apron again.

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the-catch-center · 2 months ago

Text

SPATIOTEMPORAL CATCH CENTER (SCC) DOSSIER: INTERCEPTION REPORT 77-Ω4-Δ13

SUBJECT FILE: Temporal Deviant Class-IX (Unauthorized Identity Ascension & Market Path Manipulation) INTERCEPT ID: TD-922-5x | CODE NAME: “Cicada Orchid” APPREHENSION STATUS: Successful Temporal Arrest, Mid-Jump Interception REASSIGNMENT PHASE: Stage 3 Conversion Complete — FULL IDENTITY LOCK DATE OF INTERCEPTION: March 2nd, 2025 (Gregorian), during Transition Protocol Execution to 2076 FORCED TEMPORAL REINTEGRATION DATE: June 17th, 1956

I. ORIGINAL IDENTITY – [PRIME SELF]

Full Name (Original, Earth-2025 Reality): Landon Creed Marlowe Chronological Age at Apprehension: 29 years Nationality: Neo-Continental (Post-Treaty North America) Biological Condition: Augmented Homo Sapiens – Class 2 Physical Stats at Intercept:

Height: 6’4”

Weight: 243 lbs

Body Fat: 2.1%

Neural Rewiring Index: 87%

Emotional Dampening Threshold: Fully Suppressed

Verbal Influence Score: 97/100 (Simulated Charisma Layer active)

Psychological Profile: Landon Marlowe was a prototype of hypercapitalist self-creation. Having abandoned all conventional morality by age 17, he immersed himself in data markets, psycho-linguistic mimicry, and somatic enhancement routines. A hybrid of postmodern narcissism and cybernetic ambition, he believed history should be rewritten not through war, but through wealth recursion—self-generating economic monopolies that spanned both physical and meta-market layers. By 2025, Marlowe had begun the Vaultframe Project: a forbidden consciousness routing protocol allowing a subject to leap across timelines and self-modify to fit ideal environmental conditions.

He had already initiated Stage 1 of the Phase Ascension:

Target Year: 2076 Final Form Name: Cael Axiom Dominion

II. TARGET FORM – [PROHIBITED FUTURE IDENTITY]

Designated Name: Cael Axiom Dominion Temporal Anchor Year: 2076–2120 (Planned) Occupation/Status: Centralized Financial Apex Authority (Unofficial title: “God of the Grid”) Intended Specifications:

Height: 6’8”

Skin: Synthetic/Epidermech Weave (Reflective, Gleaming Finish)

Mind: Hybridized Neuro-Organic Substrate, 3-layered Consciousness Stack

Vision: Perfect (Microscopic + Ultraviolet Layer)

Muscle: Fully Synthetic Carbon-Tension Architecture

Voice: Dynamically Modeled for Maximum Compliance Induction

Personality: Pure calculated utility — no empathy, full response modulation

Psychological Construction: Modeled on a fusion of 21st-century crypto barons, colonial magnates, and AI-governance ethic loopholes. His projected behavior matrix would’ve allowed him to overwrite traditional economic cycles, insert himself into every transaction on the New Continental Grid, and displace global markets into dependence loops. He would have achieved Immortality via Economic Indispensability by 2085.

[OPERATOR'S NOTE – TECHNICIAN LYDIA VOLSTROM, FILE LEAD]

"He thought he was the evolutionary end of capital. We've seen dozens like him — grim-faced tech prophets dreaming of godhood, all forged in the same factory-line delusion that intelligence and optimization should rewrite morality. His 'Cael Dominion' persona was practically masturbatory — gleaming muscle, perfect diction, deathless control. The problem with arrogance across time is that we always arrive faster. We waited at his jumpgate exit vector like hounds in a vineyard. Now he will die quietly, shelving dusty books in wool slacks while children giggle at his shoes."

III. REWRITTEN FORM – [REASSIGNED TIMELINE IDENTITY]

Permanent Designation (1956 Reality): Harlan Joseph Whittemore Date of Birth (Backwritten): March 19th, 1885 Current Age: 71 years (Biological and Perceived) Location: Greystone Hollow, Indiana – Population 812 Occupation: Head Librarian, Greystone Municipal Library Known As: “Old Mr. Whittemore” / “Library Santa” / “Harlan the Historian”

Biological Recomposition Report:

Height: 6’2” (slightly stooped)

Weight: 224 lbs

Body Type: Large-framed, soft-muscled, slightly arthritic

Beard: Full, white, flowing to chest length — maintained with gentle cedar oil

Hair: Long, silver-white, brushed back, unkempt at the sides

Skin: Tanned, deeply lined, blotched by sun exposure and age

Eyebrows: Dense, low, expressive

Feet: Size 28EE – institutionally branded biometrics for deviant tracking

Shoes: Custom brown orthotic leather shoes with stretch bulging

Hands: Broad, aged, veined, arthritic knuckles

Glasses: Oversized horn-rimmed, 1950s prescription style

Wardrobe:

High-waisted wool trousers (charcoal gray)

Thick brown suspenders

Faded plaid flannel shirt, tucked in neatly

Scuffed leather shoes (notable bulge around toes due to foot size)

IV. MENTAL & SOCIETAL RE-IMPRINT

Primary Personality Traits (Post-Warp):

Kind-hearted, emotionally patient

Gentle-voiced, soft-spoken, slightly slow in speech

Deeply enjoys classical literature, gardening, and children’s laughter

Feels “he’s always been this way”

Occasionally hums jazz under his breath while shelving books

Writes slow, thoughtful letters to estranged family (fabricated)

Routine:

Opens library at 8AM sharp

Catalogues local donations

Reads to children every Wednesday

Tends a small rose garden behind the building

Engages in local history discussions with town elders

Walks home slowly with a leather satchel and a cane

[OPERATOR’S NOTE – FIELD ADJUSTER INGRID PAZE]

"Watching Marlowe become Harlan was like watching a lion remember it's a housecat. I’ve never seen a posture break so beautifully. He twitched at first — his back still tried to square itself like the predator he was. But the warp wore him down. The spine bent. The voice thickened. By the time his hands were fumbling the spines of leather-bound encyclopedias, he was gone. I almost felt bad when the first child ran up and said, ‘Santa?’ He smiled. Like it made sense. Like it was the right name."

V. DEATH RECORD

Date of Death: October 21, 1961 Cause: Heart failure while trimming rose bushes behind Greystone Library

He was buried in a town he never technically existed in, beside a wife who never lived. His obituary described him as “a man of kindness, wisdom, and humility — who asked for nothing and gave more than most ever know.” No one will remember that he once sought to become Cael Axiom Dominion.

[FINAL NOTE – SENIOR INTERCEPTOR V. CALDER]

"Marlowe played the long game, but his crime was arrogance. You can stack capital, sculpt the body, and forge a god’s name — but time always wins. He wanted to be immortal. Now he’ll live only in the margins of children’s drawings, mistaken for Santa, fading like a dog-eared library card. Perfect."

#male transformation #ai generated #ai art #caught and reintegrated successfully

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withered-tears · 2 years ago

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Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the autobots aren't human.

Well, not in the literal sense. Of course they aren't human. They are giant alien robots that turn into cars, for goodness sake.

But they talk like humans. They walk like humans. Even the way they think sometimes feels extremely human-like.

So sometimes, yes, it is easy to forget they are not human.

This had the unfortunate side effect of, unintentionally, see more than one situation through a human filter, so to speak.

Such as, for example, their durability.

Because when Bulkead ran through the groundbridge carrying Bee's body, with Arcee running next to him carrying Bee's head, every human present in the base froze.

Jack's eyes were wide open, face growing pale.

Miko, in contrast, was looking almost green. Hands clasping her mouth, either to stop herself from sobbing or puking. Tears were streaming down her face.

June, although horrified, was focusing solely on keeping Raf in place.

Raf was the worst. As soon as he saw Bee, he started screaming.

June was doing her best to try and comfort the kid while keeping him from running to his friend's body. Hugging him against her chest to keep him from looking at the horrible visage.

Agent Fowler was grim, fists and teeth clenched. When Cliffjumper died, he was the one who dealt with the horrible bureaucracy of asking the bots about proper protocol. About post-mortem condecoration, about burial rites, about tradition and wishes.

Now, at least he knew the proper way to proceed, which boils down to let the bots do as they please with their dead and keep any nosy superior out of their business.

Then Ratchet spoke.

"Finally. Bulkhead, drop him in a berth, and bring me the second crate of spares. Arcee, bring the head here. I want to start running diagnostics before- Bulkhead! The second crate! I'll have to repair most ports on Bumblebee's neck, f not replace them outright."

June was the first human to speak.

"What do you mean 'repair' his ports?"

Bumblebee's head had been cut off. Surely there's no repairing that, right?

Ratchet rolled his optics (once again, such human-like gestures) at the question, barely paying any mind to the humans as he worked on Bumblebee's head.

"What, you expected me to just shove his head in place and wrape tape around it? Sorry to disappoint, but reattaching a head is a bit more complicated than-"

"Bee's alive?"

Raf's voice was awful. Voice cracking and filled with such fragile, fragile hope.

Ratchet's eyes widened (so human-like) in surprise before his entire demeanor changed.

He carefully and gently picked up Raf to bring him closer to his workstation.

"Of course he's alive. Here, look. Although his neck was severely damaged, his processors, his brain module, are unscathed. The sudden lost of power caused them to crash, which is why I'm running diagnostics through his software."

Raf, small, young, terrified, and brilliant Raf, was quickly putting the information together.

"So it's like, it's like a computer that got unplugged without being properly turned off first?"

It was obvious Ratchet was not happy being compared to such inferior, human technology. But he held any complaints to himself.

"Yeah, something like that, kid. As I said, I have to check every port in his neck to make sure they won't overload his processors once I reconnect them. Not to mention, all vital components on a cybertronian body not only receive power from the spark and energon processing, but they also store a small portion of it. Like an internal battery. Bumblebee's brain could be kept powered off for years without any side effects, other than some minor lag once reactivated. Not that his repairs will take nearly that long. I'll have Bumblebee back online in a couple of days, a week at most."

Raf was sniffing, wiping his face with his sleeves. "Can, can I help?" His voice was still scratchy.

Ratchet huffed, trying really hard to sound annoyed.

"Why not. Might as well have a second pair of optics double-checking the code. Maybe you'll even learn something."

Yeah, the Autobots were not human.

But they sure acted human-like often enough.

#transformers #ratchet #tfp #transformers prime #tfp raf #my writing #my fics #look i just love the idea of ratchet being a grumpy old man but having a soft spot for raf

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linkemon · 1 year ago

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Period headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Ruggie Bucchi

• Ruggie wouldn't be surprised by the period in the first place. If there are guys for whom this is a taboo topic, he wouldn't be one of them. He saw so many things on the streets as a child that neither pain nor blood scares him. He would also have no problem talking about it loudly. It's just a normal thing.

• He would definitely be a master of home remedies during your period. His years of odd jobs and all kinds of life knowledge would be invaluable in this matter. He would brew you homemade teas to help with the pain. All herbs are collected and dried by hand by him.

• While he is invaluable when it comes to home-made medicines, when you feel like snacking, he can be a miser. Cookies, chocolates, chips at Sam's? He's always short of money. But don't worry, if you really want some, he will somehow get money from Leona. Will you know about it? Not necessarily...

• Ruggie tolerates mood swings very well. Not only did he undergo training while working for Leona but he also got used to the fact that a woman is right, even when she isn't. In Savanaclaw, they lead in most relationships and thus he will tolerate any moodiness you may have.

Ortho Shroud

•A prefect in need? Ortho noticed it first! Before he downloaded the exact module, he thought you were seriously ill. He was very concerned about your health. Only when he downloaded the appropriate data did he understand what was going on.

• You can be sure that his information will be verified and supported by scientific evidence. He and Idia have access to data that an ordinary mortal will probably never even see. Therefore, expect a slightly medical approach to the topic.

• You will be scanned frequently unless you specifically do not want it. But let's be honest, these won't be just ordinary scans. You will get full information about what hurts you, where exactly and what is the best way to deal with it, so it sounds like a good deal.

• Ortho believes you should get plenty of rest. A warm water bottle, a blanket and off to bed! He will ask Grim to stay with you and not make a fuss, which surprisingly the cat will do (you don't know that there is a promise about can of tuna behind it).

• He will get you some medicines from the school nurse if you don't feel up to going to get them. Same with snacks and pads or tampons. Where does the money come from? He belongs to the Styx, one word and Crowley will generously create a new fund for your needs, which you won't find out about until long after the fact.

• You will receive a personalized cycle tracking app. Idia was allegedly bored. In reality, however, his hair was red the entire time he was creating it and he explained to his brother that he was only doing it at his request.

Jade Leech

• Menstruation is not a foreign concept to him. The point is more that Jade, like his brother, knows it from theory. Everything looks different under water and he never had to face this problem with his mother, for example. But there's no need to worry. Years in business have accustomed him to learning new things quickly.

• If you like specific foods, whether before or during your period, Jade's has you covered. Mostro Lounge has a wide range of products and if you want something specific, he will simply cook it for you. It's best if it contains mushrooms but if you don't want them, it's fine...

• As with Ortho, there is no problem with money. He is a good businessman. What was the point of doing any business with Azul if he didn't make money?

He knows your dorm doesn't have enough money. He often jokes with a serious face that you will work it off later but in the end it never happens. In the worst case scenario, he will ask for a kiss on the cheek in exchange for help.

• You can be sure that at the first opportunity he will do some off-campus mega business related to hygiene products. There aren't many people interested in the NRC but outside? He can take over the world and give you free samples. He will ask you for advice and opinions. Guaranteed that at the end of the process you will come up with a new formula or scents. You are happy and he is rich. Two in one.

• He is not open enough to talk about period in front of others, like Ruggie. He won't shy away from it but he just has a little bit more tact and won't talk about it until the conversation clearly stirs that way.

#ruggie bucci x reader #ortho shroud #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #headcanons #period #black chariot #idia shroud #dire crowley

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lordofthetwistedflies · 1 month ago

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Yuurivoice Characters D&D Classes!!

Based on in-universe evidence, imagery, behaviors, and Evalas versions.

(Just including the main 8 Yuuriboys, might do side characters/Evalas characters if there's demand)

Alphonse: Path of the Beserker Barbarian

Alphonse is a physical fighter who doesn't necessarily care for decorum or formalities. Violence is simply a means to an end for him. Additionally, rage is the thrill of chaos, and when he enters a fury, Alphonse is blind to his own wellbeing. Additionally, when we do see Alphonse fight in Bittersweet, he attacks with brass knuckles and improvised blunt weapons, packing a powerful punch, all behavior in line with the 5e barbarian.

Auron: Assassin Rogue

A strange pick, given Auron the Bloodhound is almost certainly some sort of fighter, right? Yes, I agree. But Beyond Auron is absolutely a Rogue, hands down. For him, death is an art-- a grim and bloody one, but an art nonetheless. Assassins specialize in stealth, poison, and disguise to eliminate their foes with deadly efficiency. Rogues as a class also specialize in deception and persuasion so they can kill without ever getting their hands dirty. Sound familiar?

Charlie: Thief Rogue

Another rogue! Surprise surprise, the story featuring an organized crime ring is gonna have a lot of stealthy motherfuckers. The thief is a stealthy and agile subclass, usually given to thieves and criminals. Additionally from a metagame perspective, they aren't exactly optimized for combat or dealing damage, which is fitting considering how frequently we see Charlie get his ass handed to him! A conman and informant for shady characters, the thief fits our darling rat perfectly.

Faust: Circle of Stars Druid- or College of Glamour Bard

It's a tie! I genuinely couldn't decide between the two for him. The Circle of Stars is fitting given the imagery used for Faust, given his Astral and Celestial associations. They're powerful and elegant, drawing on the power of starlight itself. However, the bard approach makes the streamer and entertainer part of Faust's character more prevalent in his build. College of Glamour bards are flashy and dramatic, captivating and inspiring their audiences. Do you see why I couldn't decide between the two?

Finn: Divination Wizard

I think the only explanation needed for this choice is the description from Dnd5e.wikidot. "You strive to part the veils of space, time, and consciousness so that you can see clearly. You work to master spellsnof discernment, remote viewing, supernatural knowledge and foresight." Unfortunately no innate plant association, but this is so fitting for Finneas' roll in EoE and Bittersweet it hurts. Additionally, magic seems to be something that, while gifted at, Finneas has to practice and study (college of mages and whatnot) so that canceled out any sorcerer possibilities. Additionally, despite all the flower associations, towers in the middle of nowhere is not very druid, but very Wizard-y

Jack: College of Lore Bard

I'm mostly going off of vibes for this one, considering there isn't much content for modern day Jack. But being a bard pairs well with how he inspires his study buddy. Additionally, bards as a whole have an entire trait called "Jack of All Trades", which is not only a pun, but also works with the multiple roles he's filled in different audios since his introduction.

Lucien: ,,, i sorgy

I'm gonna be so fucking for real, unless we get a Dungeon Meshi module that makes cooking a mechanic in game, there was no cleanly adapting Lucien to 5e. I'm sorry. On the plus side!! I can comfortably say he's a cambion!!

Seth: Oath of Devotion Paladin

Oath of Devotion Paladins are the virtuous ideal. They fight for a greater good for a devotion to something higher than themselves. For EoE Seth with his position as the Watcher, this would be directly tied to promises to his community and his anointment. For Beyond Seth, when he does fight, he fights for the people he cares about, even if he isn't always that paragon of moral integrity. He fights for Derek because Derek gave him a place to belong. He fights for Alphonse because he's in love with him. He fights for Sugarboo to protect their happiness. Seth is Devotion and Loyalty wrapped up in one man with pretty hair, sweet arms, and a sexy accent.

#yuurivoice #bittersweet #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice charlie #yuurivoice auron #yuurivoice bittersweet #yuurivoice finn #yuurivoice faust #yuurivoice lucien #yuurivoice jack #yuurivoice eoe

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3liza · 1 year ago

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saw someone talking about "scary dog privilege" on here today and cant find the post again but i guess it refers to when women are bothered less in public when accompanied by a large dog, and bypassing the quibble i have with calling that a privilege, i can absolutely 100% confirm it is true.

i was approached by a 30s-40s single white man wearing the Dipshit Uniform (guy in a baseball cap who looks like he drives an f-150 and has voting opinions i would not agree with) on the street the other day and all he had to talk about was Churchgrim. that he was VERY large, looked like a good boy, obedient, what breed is he, etc. this is the only interaction i get from men in public anymore unless i do not have the dog with me, at which point it goes back to the usual bullshit. however it has to be an actual scary-looking dog and you have to visibly have control of it. this is not why i got a large dog, it's just a side benefit. it probably has a lot to do with the masculine cultural coding of any large dog breed that isnt a poodle or a sight hound more than it does the actual violence potential of the dog, but those two things are related. notably, not a SINGLE man has tried to mansplain dog care or handling to me for five years. not one. i cant explain this because its not like being visible capable at a task or skill will stop them in any other circumstance, including when you are holding a literal firearm.

i remember reading some stupid op-ed from some idiot woman who got a dog "for protection" on her jogs and was baffled when men were not intimidated by her golden fucking retriever (although they should have been; goldens bite a lot, statistically, probably explicitly because people do not take them seriously)

the fact that men's body language and tone of voice has changed so drastically from before when i had a 90lbs black shepherd mix standing next to me is pretty damning tbh. all people both intentionally and unintentionally modulate their communication styles around that type of dog to display respect, interest, or fear, experienced dog people can be identified instantly by their comfort and confidence with the dog, and people with dog phobia are the opposite. the dog instinctively puts himself between me and approaching strangers, probably not out of a defensive instinct in grim's case but because strangers are interesting and he wants to be closer to the object of interest, but the physical barrier this creates is a great benefit to me.

specifically, men talk to me much much much more like they are speaking to another man when the dog is there. part of that is men are often genuinely interested in knowing information about a large dog of grim's type and are not using the dog as an excuse to flirt with or harass me. grim has a phenotype that is familiar to certain experiences within the united states as a "porch dog" or "yard dog" or "farm dog" that everyone who has lived in rural areas has usually known or owned a few notable examples of, and thats a general class of dog that tends to be good at listening and responding to humans and has a lot of opportunities to display intelligence or good judgment, so people with rural experience tend to associate him with good memories. he's also "handsome" in the dog sense because he got to keep his balls until he was 3, on the advice of his vet, and as a result he developed nice-looking musculature and a big thick neck which you dont get on city dogs much. he gets a lot of positive attention from older ladies as well, who you'd think would be afraid of being knocked over, but who are always just besotted with him for reasons i havent quite figured out yet. maybe they like seeing a youngish woman with a dog like this, i know that i feel good and happy when i see younger women and girls in situations where they seem safe or protected to me. i think to myself, "i don't have to worry about her" and i feel relief. observing young women and girls often triggers anxiety for women who are even just a few years older than they are, out of pure empathy. its one reason it's so important to be kind to younger people than you are.

anyway it's damning to the men because of course men don't think rationally that the dog would understand and be offended or angry if they sexually harassed or disrespected me. but they are still on their best behavior because the dog is an implicit threat that i can defend myself. and perhaps not only did they have nothing real to discuss with me before now because they assumed we had nothing in common and that i was an idiot or not human, but they are watching themselves carefully to only express normal human civility. i dont get that from random men without the dog. mostly (not entirely but mostly) i get either casual disrespect/disregard, or outright sexual harassment. when i was younger and less experienced with men and had fewer cycles of these interactions, i was completely unaware of how disrespectful these approaches or comments were, which is the interpretation i can see less-experienced women making now, even if they're my age. and when i was 20, my 30 year old friends seemed pathologically misandrist and defensive to me. it was purely the difference in our actual mileage. that sucks man. wish we could just be normal around people and not have to expect the worst constantly.

anyway, good dog

#blog #dogs #churchgrim #scary dog privilege

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hugmekenobi · 1 year ago

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S3: The Bad Batch (6)

Chapter Six: Infiltration

Gif by @timetodiverge

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: A reunion with Rex unveils some more intel

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, light spice (making out, dirty talk, teasing touches, praise, nickname 'sweetheart'), I make up Fireball lore, brief call back to Order 66, general threatening atmosphere, I also dance around the M-count stuff (please be nice and just accept it lol), suggestions of misuse of the Force for interrogation purposes, brief mention of food and referenced character deaths

Word Count: 4.3K

Author's notes: Don't get excited about CX-2 because I still haven't thought about a way around his fate in S3 finale and my current plan is probably going to be very boring lol. Also Ch7 is out too!

The meeting between Senator Chuchi and Senator Singh had started promising until a rather crude assassination attempt disrupted matters.

Unfortunately, Greer had fallen victim to the black armoured assassin– the grim silver lining being that he was the only casualty and they’d managed to capture the shadow clone sent after the senators.

As the ship flew through hyperspace, Rex and Howzer stared at the unconscious assassin- both of them wondering how such a change was possible. There was a distinct different to the clones that had remained loyal to the Empire and these shadow clones.

“Think he’ll cooperate?” Howzer asked apprehensively.

“I wouldn’t count on it, but we have to try.” Rex replied.

“We recovered this from his gear.” Howzer pulled out the puck. “It’s a data puck. Highly encrypted.”

“Have Fireball find out what’s on it when we get back to base camp.”

Teth

Rex stepped into the interrogation room to join the two other clones already in there and he saw that the clone assassin still unconscious. “Did you extract the device?”

Howzer handed it to him, “The electro capsule was implanted in one of his teeth. Just like you said. His identifying number’s been wiped too.” Howzer stared on the clone, “What exactly did the Empire do to him?”

No sooner had Howzer finished his sentence, did the clone open his eyes.

Rex knelt in front of him, “What’s your name, trooper?” He was met with stony silence, so he tried a different approach. “Listen, no matter what they did to you, no matter what you’ve done, you’re still a clone. Still one of us. I can help you, but we need answers.” Again, he was met with no reply, and he got the sinking feeling that whatever the Empire had done to him couldn’t be easily undone.

Tantiss

Scorch entered the communications office to stand in front of the holographic image of CX-2.

“Why have I been activated?” Came the modulated voice that had an air of contempt to it.

“One of the other operatives has gone dark. His internal homing device remains intact. So, we know he’s alive.”

“My orders?”

“He’s been compromised. Track him down and neutralize him.”

“We know there are others like you. Where are you based? Coruscant? Daro?” Rex asked. They’d been at this for hours now and all they’d gotten out of the clone was a series of hateful glares. “Tantiss?” That finally got a different reaction, the clone’s eye’s widening gave him away. “Oh, yeah, we know about Tantiss. And the clones imprisoned there. Were you one of them? Tell us where it is.” He said, more force behind his words now but again, the clone stayed quiet.

Rex shared a glance with Howzer who jutted his head and the two of them came together closer by the door.

“You need to push him harder.” Howzer stated in a hushed voice.

It had been what he’d been hoping to avoid but it was looking like all other alternatives were ineffective. Rex sighed but before he could do anything else, the door whirred open, and Fireball called his name.

“Rex.”

Rex and Howzer left the clone in the room with Nemec and met up with Fireball.

“The data puck was a target register.” Fireball revealed.

“Who was he after?” Howzer asked.

“Senator Singh. But that wasn’t the only person on his list.” He activated the device and showed the first image.

Rex saw the slight unease in Fireballs face as he changed to the next image and noticed a distinct sinking feeling in his stomach as he recognised the two targets. “Contact Echo and Hunter. We need to let them know.”

Fireball nodded and went of to do just that.

“We should bring them here.” Howzer insisted.

“No. No. I- I don’t want to involve them in this.”

“It’s too late for that.” Howzer said simply. “Crosshair is with them. This is our chance to question him.”

“Echo’s already done that.”

“But we haven’t. He knows more than he’s saying. If you want to locate Tantiss, then we need him to talk.” He moved away from him.

Rex thought through Howzer’s words and whilst he didn’t want to drag you all into this, he had to admit that Howzer was right.

Howzer paused after a couple of paces and turned around. “Rex.”

Rex angled himself to face him.

“You’ve talked about the kid before, but the woman, who is she?”

Strong hands gripped your hips as they backed you into the wall of the Marauder and an agreeable groan left your throat at the enthusiastic insistence of the man currently kissing you with such fervour and hunger, it made your head spin. You attempted to weave your fingers in his dark locks, but you didn’t get very far.

Not breaking away from you, Hunter gathered your wrists in one of his own hands and raised your arms above your head. His hold was strong as pressed them into the metal wall, not to hurt but to send the message that that’s precisely where you were going to keep them for this time alone that the two of you had managed to coordinate for yourselves.

You were utterly powerless to resist- not that you wanted to. You had to pull away for air eventually, but Hunter never faltered, he just turned his attentions to the rest of you and your body arched into him to rid yourselves of any offensive gaps between you.

Hunter pressed doting kisses to the skin of your neck, teeth scraping along your pulse point. “What do you want, sweetheart?” He murmured seductively.

Breathless whimpers were the only noises that came from your mouth. You were overwhelmed by him, by the feeling of his body pushing against yours, by the sensation of his touch, by his lips. Words were hopeless a hopeless venture with him against you like this.

Hunter grinned against your skin before he kissed the hollow of your throat. He pushed his thigh between your legs and relished in the soft moan that left your lips. He trailed his lips across your jaw as he rasped, “Tell me what you want.” He kissed the sensitive spot behind your ear.

Your entire body was pliant against him, and you couldn’t fathom one single word of basic due to his ministrations.

Hunter continued what he was doing, and he moved to the underside of your jaw, “Do you want my fingers?” He hovered his lips a mere few inches from yours before whispering in a low voice, “Do you want my mouth?”

And when he felt your pulse quicken at that last one, he brought his lips back to yours and kissed you deeply, teasingly. “You want my mouth, sweetheart?” He uttered softly against your lips whilst simultaneously applying more pressure between your legs with this. He swallowed your moan with another kiss before he started to lower himself to his knees.

Your hands scrambled for purchase against the wall, and you just about managed a nod as he mouthed his way down your still clothed body. You inhaled shakily as you felt his gloved hands dip under your layers stroke against the bare skin of your stomach before they suggestively toyed with the waistband of your leggings. “Yes, that’s what I want.” You panted, the dark lust you saw behind his brown eyes had you weak at the knees.

Hunter smirked up at you. “Good girl.” With that he properly took a hold of the waistband and got ready to pull them down.

And then the most objectionable and devastating of sounds materialised around you and the delicious anticipation of what was about to happen instantly evaporated as reality came crashing down around you.

Hunter paused what he was about to do and exhaled a deeply dissatisfied sigh as he readjusted your clothing.

“And I want that to be a software glitch and not our comms going off.” You grumbled; the words punctuated by you lightly banging the back of your head against the wall in annoyance.

“Hunter, (Y/N), do either of you copy?”

Hunter hung his head in his own disappointment before he stood up tall. He kissed your cheek before pressing his comm, “Yeah, we copy, Echo.” He confirmed.

“What’s going on?” You asked as both you and Hunter slipped back into your squad roles.

“Rex got in touch. We need go. Now.”

You two grabbed your gear and hurried out the Marauder to head for Echo’s ship.

“So, where exactly are we headed?” Hunter asked Echo as the ship travelled through hyperspace.

“It’s a base of sorts.”

“I thought your rendezvous with Gregor was top priority.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll pick him up after dropping you lot off.”

“Any idea why Rex wants us there so urgently?” You asked as you rubbed Batcher’s belly. The hound’s demands of attention were the distraction you needed from the growing nerves surrounding going to a base made entirely up of clones and although you knew they had no loyalty to the Empire, you weren’t sure how far that sentiment would extend with regards to you.

“He didn’t say. But it must be important.”

Hunter pondered over this for a moment before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced around his chair and thoughtfully observed Crosshair and Omega- who had a toothpick of her own- and she was mirroring the way Crosshair was using it. The behaviour was typically exhibited by her when she felt particularly close to someone or looked up to them in some way. Clearly their experience in Tantiss had it had brought them close in ways he hadn’t considered or in ways they- particularly Crosshair- were yet to fully realise.

You and Wrecker had been paying Batcher some attention, but you stopped as you noticed the way Hunter had looked between Crosshair and Omega. You saw what he saw but as you reached into the Force around him to get a gauge of his feelings, it wasn’t jealousy or hurt behind his eyes, it was more contemplative. She’ll have to learn to be a moody teenager from someone. You smiled over at him as he half-turned to face you.

You felt a wet nose nudge your palm and you went back to petting Batcher.

Teth

Rex and Howzer watched as the ship landed. Once the doors opened, they went to meet up with the oncoming group.

“They don’t look happy to see us.” Wrecker said. “Just like old times, huh?” He remarked cheerfully with a nudge to Crosshair’s back.

“Are you alright?” Echo asked as he saw you had yet to follow the others out.

“Yup.” You answered distantly as your hand subconsciously came to unclip and reclip your lightsaber to your belt.

Echo picked up on your tense fidgeting. “Rex assured me that it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“I know, I know.” You inhaled a calming breath and jogged to catch up with the group.

“Thanks for coming.” Rex said as Hunter’s squad came to a halt in front of him. He then nodded at you and Omega.

You had heard the hushed whispers and murmurs from the surrounding clones as you’d approached the rest of the group and you saw the brief moment of shock that flashed across the features of the clone next to Rex. “They already knew before I walked out here.” You guessed, their reactions and shared looks told you that it wasn’t just because they only just noticed the lightsaber on your belt.

“I, uh, filled a few of them in before your arrival. Word travels fast but some of them still didn’t believe it and, well, some of us knew already. I’ve been to quite a few Outer Rim planets… you haven’t exactly been laying low in recent months.” Rex replied, glancing curiously as you.

You sighed, “Fair point. It’s certainly been an… interesting time.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” Rex reassured you. “We all have that past to contend with.”

“Well, that’s comforting I suppose.” You said lightly before you fell into place beside Hunter.

“It’s good to see you, Rex.” Hunter said sincerely.

“Wish I felt the same.”

You all glanced to the hostile voice of the clone beside Rex who was glaring at Crosshair.

“I have unfinished business with this one.” Howzer stated as he kept his sights firmly on Crosshair. “Remember me?”

Crosshair just stared at him blankly.

“Surprised I’m alive? Most of my squad from Ryloth is dead because of you.” Howzer spat.

“Easy Howzer.” Rex cautioned. “I know you two have history. But we’re all on the same side now.”

Howzer only released a doubtful scoff, but he eased off.

“Why’d you call us here, Captain?” Hunter asked.

“We have something to show you. Follow me.” He led the way to the base.

You got ready to follow behind, but Echo’s voice made you and Wrecker pause.

“Omega!”

Omega turned and ran back to the ship.

“I was planning on giving you this after I made a few more modifications. But, uh, now’s as good a time as any.”

Omega released an excited gasp as she examined the weapon. “An energy crossbow. Where did you get it?” She eagerly took it from him.

Echo laughed, “Well, I’ve made a few interesting contacts across the galaxy.”

She activated it and the green glow of energy hummed strongly before she turned it off. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Echo.”

“Well, I won’t be gone long. You better head inside and, uh, keep them in line.”

They shared in a salute before Omega dashed off the ship to rejoin you and Wrecker and the three of you made your own way to the building.

“Your numbers are growing.” Hunter commented as he saw the clones in the room.

“Well, we need all the help we can get. Once we find the exact coordinates of the Tantiss Base, we have to hit it hard if we’re gonna pull our brothers out of there.” Rex said, coming to a stop by the centre console. “I have questions about the facility but that’s not the only reason why I sent for you.” He picked up the puck and chucked it to Hunter. “We recovered a target list from an Imperial operative. And both of them are on it.”

“Not a surprise. You’ve got a Jedi and someone who escaped Imperial custody.” Crosshair replied, sounding bored as he put a toothpick between his lips.

“So did you. But you’re not on the list.” Howzer retorted.

“Guess I’m not as valuable to them.”

“Or you’re feeding them information.” Howzer accused.

Hunter frowned at that and came to his brother’s defence. “You’re gonna have to back down, Captain.” He warned sternly.

“You expect us to believe he was held on Tantiss for months, but he doesn’t know how to get back there?” Howzer said angrily.

Crosshair removed his toothpick and faced up against Howzer. “Whether you believe me or not, it’s the truth.” He waited for his words to sink in before speaking again, “But I’m not loyal to the Empire any longer.”

That wasn’t enough for Howzer. “Your squad may trust you. But I don’t.”

Any further argument was cut short as the doors whirred open again and they all looked to see you, Wrecker and Omega come in.

You almost ran into the clone that was exiting at the same time and your eyes widened as you saw his face. “Fireball?!” You gasped as you recognised the clone that had been your trusty second in command of the battalion you had been assigned during the war.

“General?” Fireball replied, completely stunned as he instinctively straightened his posture. When he’d seen your holo-image, part of him still couldn’t believe it. Even with Rex’s confirmation, he still had his doubts but that all vanished that very second as he heard your voice. As he saw your face. As you were standing in front of him. It really was you.

You couldn’t help it; you gave him a quick hug. “It’s been years! I’d heard Master Tobar Ka-Teen took over from me…” You trailed off and cursed yourself as you realised the added effect of your words and you immediately became apologetic. “Fireball-”

“About that day… I did- and Order 66- I couldn’t- And I know if it had been you, I know I wouldn’t have been able to resist-” He stuttered.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Fireball. I’m not holding anything against you.”

Fireball released a sigh of relief before he said, “There’s something else you need to know, General.” He jutted his head over to the others before he headed out the room.

You then saw the way Rex, Hunter, Crosshair and Howzer were all glancing between you and Omega. You felt the tension in the Force around them as you approached. “What’s going on?”

“The Empire’s targeting you-” Crosshair started to say.

Wrecker let out a dry chuckle. “No surprise there.”

“Yeah, we already knew that.” You replied with an unconcerned shrug.

“And Omega… again.” Crosshair added.

That got your attention and achieved a sufficient amount of worry. You came to stand just beside Wrecker and behind the young girl. Your voice was serious as you asked, “Do we know why?”

“Not yet.” Rex answered before he addressed Omega, “Why were they after you before?”

“To force Nala Se to cooperate and conduct certain experiments.”

“Which were what?”

“She was working on something involving M-Count? I don’t know what that means, but they were taking blood samples from everyone, even me.”

“They were looking at your M-count?” You repeated. You thought through the possibilities but dismissed the main one that ran through your head because surely you would’ve sensed if she had that particular potential. You racked your brain for other theories but came up empty.

“Uh huh.” Omega glanced up at you curiously.

Her inquisitive look matched the expression the rest of them were giving you. “I know how it can be significant, but I have no idea as to how it would relate to her or any clone that matter.” You admitted ruefully.

Rex took a knee in front of Omega. “What else can you tell us?”

“When we escaped, there wasn’t enough time to free the other clones. We have to find a way to get them out.” She said resolutely.

Rex rested a hand on her shoulder. “We will.”

The door opened again, and Fireball re-entered holding a bowl of food. “Chow time!” He announced. “Gregor’s recipe, with a few spicy modifications.”

“Oh, now you’re talking.” Wrecker said eagerly, leading the way as he, Batcher and Omega went to the table.

You watched them go with a small smile before Crosshair’s voice brought you back to the discussion at hand.

“Wait. There’s more you should know.” He paused for a second as he readied himself for what he was about to say. “Not all of the clones on Tantiss are prisoners. Some are loyal to the Empire. There is a division of clones trained as specialised operatives and initiated into a secret deep cover program run by Hemlock.” His voice grew quieter as he recalled the time spent in that room. “Their identities are erased. They undergo conditioning. The few that make it through come out different.”

“If the program’s so secretive, how do you know about it?” Howzer questioned suspiciously.

“Because they tried to make me into one of them.”

“Tried?”

“It didn’t work. Being defective is in my nature.” He finished his explanation.

“You’ve encountered one before. The assassin on Coruscant.” Hunter said.

“We’ve known they existed but never knew exactly what they were.” Rex said cagily.

It wasn’t just their visual mannerisms that gave them away, you felt the evasiveness around them. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Rex hesitated a moment before he said, “We captured one. I’ve tried questioning him, but he hasn’t been very cooperative.”

“This is where you come in.” Howzer said to you.

You noticed the grimace on Rex’s face and regarded the clone captain warily. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

“Well, you’re a Jedi, aren’t you?”

You gave a single slow nod of your head as you awaited further information.

“You’ve got certain… skillsets.” He took half a step closer to you. “Ones of persuasion that we don’t have.”

You realised what he was getting at. You shook your head. “That only works on the weak-minded and from what Crosshair just described, he’s anything but. No clone is.”

“You could make it work though if you really had to. You could get him to say what we needed him to.”

“Captain-” You objected as you sensed his growing desperation- it was rolling off him in waves.

“But could you do it?” He took another step towards you.

“Doing so verges on torture, Captain.” You attempted to explain. You felt Hunter gravitate closer to you in response to Howzer’s movement.

“But could you do it?” He asked again.

You remembered the last time three Jedi tried that- against Cad Bane of all people- and the impact had nearly been disastrous. You held his stare with a strong one of your own and spoke steadily and with plenty of conviction behind your words. “One, I don’t have that kind of power.”

“But-”

“Two, even if I wanted to, it could destroy his mind and you get nothing.”

“The time for debate is long gone. We need the information.” Howzer insisted. “It’s a risk-”

Further debate was silenced as Crosshair interrupted, traces of panic in his voice. “You have one here? Alive?”

Rex nodded.

“Impossible. The Empire would be on top of us already. They have ways of tracking their operatives.”

“We scanned him. He’s clear.” Howzer said.

“It’s not the kind of tracker your scans would pick up.” Crosshair asserted. “Hemlock’s smarter than that.”

“Where’s the operative? Show us.” Hunter requested.

Sneaking into the base had been all to easy and as he scanned the room ahead with the scope of his sniper rifle, he saw the other two targets in the room, but they weren’t his first priority. He’d bide his time with them. He retreated back outside.

First, he had to give Scorch the news about the targets and his location for the Recovery Strike Team.

Then there was the other operative to take care of.

Then he could get his hands on the next set of targets that were so easily within his grasp.

The five of you stood in the interrogation room and studied the cuffed clone in front of you.

You weren’t sure if it was solely because of the look of pure disgust he gave you as you walked in, but there was disturbance in the Force that you couldn’t just dismiss. Your guard was up.

Crosshair inhaled a sharp breath as the clone then looked directly at him, “We need to leave. Now.”

You glanced at Crosshair and saw a level of fear you’d never witnessed from the clone before. It sent a chill down your spine.

“If you want answers so badly, why aren’t you asking him?” The clone sneered as he looked at the familiar clone ahead of him. “Right, brother?”

“He’s lying.” Crosshair shifted uncomfortably as all of your eyes fixed on him.

The dark, menacing voice of the operative spoke up again. “You’re right about one thing. They are coming for all of you.”

An explosion suddenly rang outside.

“Comms are down.” Rex said as he attempted to check in with those patrolling the perimeter. Another dark chuckle from the assassin clone told him their time was up. “We move out. Now!”

Howzer opened the door but just as he went to press the button, you sensed what was about to come.

“Rex!” You shoved him down just as the shots fired and dove to cover but you couldn’t stop them as they hit the operative in the centre of his chest. You tugged your coverings up just as the others put on their helmets.

“We’ve got a shooter out here!” Wrecker yelled as he put his helmet on and provided a round of cover fire for you all to get out of that room and to better cover.

“Shots coming from the back of the room!” Omega yelled from her position.

“Nemec, we need to get comms online” Rex said.

Nemec went to the centre console at a crouch, but a shot made contact with the exposed wire and all he saw was the light of an explosion as his body was flung backwards into a crate. He struggled to get back up as he fought for consciousness.

“Backup plan. Into the command post!” Rex ordered before looking at Wrecker and Omega. “I’ll cover you!” He timed it out. “Go!” He stood up and fired on the assailant as he helped Nemec to his feet.

You began running with the others but paused as you realised Fireball had split off from the rest of you. You saw him grab a flamethrower and run directly towards the attacker. “Fireball!” You yelled in warning, but Hunter pulled your arm to get you to follow the rest of them back to the room.

Rex could only watch in dismay as Fireball took a shot to the shoulder and crashed into a crate of grenades, but the flamethrower was still activated.

The resulting series of violent explosions had the roof of the base collapsing and Rex was left with no choice but to sprint back to the room. He dived through the entrance just as it was completely blocked by rubble, and it was then he felt a stray piece of rock collide against his helmet and black spots clouded his vision.

The Recovery Strike Team entered the planet’s atmosphere.

“Commander, we’ve lost contact with the operative.”

“Prepare to land and set blasters to stun. Our orders are to retrieve the targets alive.”

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @dominoeffectsworld, @andreaaxy, @notgonnaedit, @nightmonkeysstuff

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x fem!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers

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cookie-waffle-art-and-stuff · 8 days ago

Text

Voyagers Chapter 8 (WIP SNEAK PEEK!)

some context before you read:

-This is not spellchecked. It’s a heavy WIP.📝

- I have been neglecting to update this fic for a WHILE now, because the death of my dog completely ruined my motivation to write for a while. BUT! I did still try to work on it every now and then, and am finally starting to ease back into my original pace.

-This sneak peak is sort of an apology for the hiatus + a self-admitted sad attempt at getting people to remember that it exists 😭

Ships involved: heavily referenced Windscream, KOBD🚗🩷🚙

Characters: Shockwave, Soundwave and family, Knockout, Motormaster, Starscream, that little spider freak from dotm. Smaller cameos involving Astrontrain and a “certain purple beastformer”

Trigger warnings: Medical gore, substance abuse, and discussions of a suicide that happened in the previous chapter

Oh and uh, Fly high little Lucky Boy (my doggy) 🕊️💔🌈

Knockout reluctantly wheeled the recently deceased minibot down the hall to the morgue. No need for an autopsy, it was obvious what had happened.

This was the least favorite part of his job. Not because of the dead bodies, but because he dreaded being in Shockwave’s lab. That mech had always given him the creeps. He’d caught the scientist eyeing his beautiful crimson finish a few times in the past. But these weren’t the glances of admiration for his beauty— the ones he usually got —this felt… sinister. Like he was just itching to dig into his delectable flesh with a laser cutter. It gave the former Decepticon the creeps like no one else did. Unfortunately, being the only ex-con medic on The Ark, he was the one usually tasked with transporting the dead to the nemesis morgue. And this trip wasn’t going to be any less pleasant than his previous ones.

Before knocking on the big, intimidating door that led to whatever horrors Shockwave hid behind it, Knockout looked down at the voyage’s latest victim one last time. Though they never spoke much, he recognized him. He was a small mech on the younger side and used to work as a bartender in the lounge. Although he and Knockout were only acquaintances, he knew the bot was well-liked among his peers. Neither First Aid nor Ratchet could even clock into work that day, leaving Knockout and Fixit having to deal with Perceptor stepping in temporarily to help ease the workload. The guy was almost just as much of a tight ass as Magnus.

Being a medic, and a former Decepticon medic at that- Knockout had grown pretty desensitized to seeing maimed and mangled bodies. But the nature and appearance of the injury were grim even for Knockout. Unlike Ironhide, who used a small handgun with a low-velocity bullet, this one somehow managed to get his hands on a mini laser canon. His helm and faceplate were damaged beyond recognition. Knockout couldn’t think of another time when he didn’t see a wide grin on the bartender’s face.

Without Knockout doing anything, the door groaned open.

“Why are you standing there? Come inside.”

A shiver ran down Knockout’s spinal cable. How did he know he was out there? The medic took in a vent and walked in, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Next time don’t keep me waiting.” The big purple mech momentarily removed his attention from the grey Decepticon corpse on the table in front of him, his one yellow optic blinking at Knockout. “Is this one another suicide?”

“Yeah…”

“Name, race, gender, and age?”

“Swerve, minibot, mech, 8 vorns.”

Shockwave visually examined Swerve for a few seconds. I’ll have the spark chamber extracted in approximately 3 groons.” He eyed the small Autobot’s destroyed features for a moment, “Brain module extraction may not be possible.

One of the little white antennae on the sides of Knockout’s helm twitched in irritation. He crossed his arms. “You certainly seem to be taking your sweet time today.”

“Starscream left a mess for me to clean.” He looked down at the autopsy table before him, “The nature of Barricade’s injuries has left many of his internal organs badly damaged. I must check to see if any are salvageable. Repairing them will require delicate work. Do not rush me.” He resumed digging around Barricade’s abdominal cavity. Knockout couldn’t help but notice a “missing piece”.

“Shockwave… where’s Cade’s head?”

Shockwave turned his head to look at the missing body part, blinking once. “Your observation is correct. Where is the head?”

Heavy footsteps could be heard running up from behind Knockout. The medic barely had time to whip around when Barricade’s head was shoved into his face, being wiggled around by his spinal cable like a toy.

“OOGA BOOGA!”

Knockout immediately went limp as a ragdoll and collapsed to the floor.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! THAT NEVER GETS OLD!”

Knockout, now fuming, pulled himself up and brushed himself off while his assailant continued to laugh maniacally.

“Motormaster! You know I have narcolepsy, you asshole!” Knockout shouted.

The huge Decepticon’s deep voice boomed in mocking laughter “THAT’S WHY IT’S FUNNY! BWAHAHAHA!”

Knockout’s engine growled as he inspected his paint job for scratches. “It’s not funny, it is quite frankly, disgusting! And not to mention rude!”

Shockwave approached Motormaster, grabbed the head from him, and then gave him a nasty zap in the side with his gun-arm for good measure. “Improper lab etiquette will not be tolerated.”

Motormaster fell to the ground with a loud crash and began reeling on the floor.

“You deserve that!” Knockout scolded.

“Shut your mouth, traitor!” Motormaster grunted back at him.

Knockout turned to shockwave, highly irritated. “Why is he even here? Shouldn’t he be in the brig?”

Shockwave set Barricade’s head down on the table next to his frame. “I struck a deal with Megatron. He can leave the brig ONLY if he’s under my constant watch.”

Knockout slapped a taloned hand to his face.”Why?!”

Knockout hadn’t heard Motormaster get up before he snuck up behind Knockout and grabbed him by the shoulders. “OOOGA BOOGA!”

Knockout went limp again.

“Enough!” Shockwave scolded, raising his gun-arm towards Motormaster as a threat. Motormaster rolled his optics and gave Knockout a mean kick in the chest before returning to what he was supposed to be doing. Unable to move, Knockout was forced to feel the full brunt of the kick. Shockwave didn’t seem to care.

“Get up. Come back in 3 groons to collect the spark chamber and brain module.”

After several seconds, Knockout was able to slowly pull himself up, groaning and grasping his chest in pain. Shockwave didn’t move an inch to help him. He remained focused on the task at hand.

Scowling, Knockout left the lab and was all too eager to. The doors released an eerie low moan as it shut behind him.

All bots on the fleet knew what happened in that lab, and nobody wanted to talk about it. Some simply pretended it didn’t exist.

With such limited resources and such a dense population, every drop of energon and piece of scrap metal was valuable in some way. And the only way to get new resources out in the middle of deep space was from those who didn’t need them anymore. The dead.

This was not an easy decision for the fleet’s captains to make, but it was a necessary one. After any functional organs were removed, the frame was melted down for metal. But the spark chamber and brain module- the organs that once held the souls, memories, and personalities of the deceased, were preserved out of respect and then returned to their respective ship’s cemetery chamber.

Knockout never discussed what he saw in there with anyone other than Breakdown. But he decided not to tell his merged conjunx about Motormaster. Breakdown was once a part of the same combiner group with Dead End, another defected Decepticon. Motormaster had a searing hatred for Knockout ever since the group split up, blaming the medic for everything. If Breakdown had any idea that Motormaster had injured Knockout, Knockout wouldn’t have been able to stop him from physically confronting Motormaster, who was much stronger. The last time that happened, it cost him an optic.

Not wanting to bother going through the temporary transfer process two more times, Knockout decided to just wait on the Nemesis until Shockwave was finished processing Swerve’s remains. He grasped his chest as he made his way towards the Nemesis’s medbay. Motormaster had left a medium-sized dent in his armor and it still hurt quite a bit. He wanted to fix himself up before Breakdown had a chance to see it.

He had forgotten just how dark and gloomy the Nemesis looked. Every hall looked the same. Dim lights, dark-colored walls, and eerily silent corridors. It didn’t feel like his home anymore. Despite working there for so long, the ship almost seemed unfamiliar now. Regardless, he still remembered his way to the medbay. He entered, not seeing anyone inside. The only sound that broke the silence were little metal taps clicking against the wall as the head medic scuttled around a corner.

The tiny minicon cocked his head and eyed his former coworker up and down. “You’ve bothered me for a dent?

Knockout huffed. “For your information, Scalpel, I was assaulted by that brute Shockwave keeps as a pet!”

Scalpel let out a sadistic little chuckle.

Knockout lightly gasped as he felt a sudden sharp pain in his chest. “Just tell me where the dent repair kit is! I’ll do it myself!”

“Don’t be a fool, Knockout.” His thin, 8 little legs tipped and tapped as he took a small running start to land on Knockout’s shoulder. “This is the third time this week that idiot has created more work for me!” the little medic sneered as he crawled down to the injury.

The feeling of the little legs crawling down his upper torso sent chills down Knockout’s spinal cable. Scalpel placed his audial on Knockout’s dent and tapped it a few times with a claw.

“Hmmmm….” the minicon tapped his chin. “When’s the last time you spark merged with the intention of bearing young?”

Knockout raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Scalpel sighed. “When did you last try to make a sparkling.”

Knockout remarked with a laugh, “What? You think I’m carrying?”

“No. I don’t think you’re carrying.” the minicon medic tapped on Knockout’s chest again, listening closely. “You KNOW you are carrying.”

“Excuse me, WHAT?!”

______________________________________

Elsewhere on the Nemesis, Soundwave sat in silence as he played the previous night’s security footage over and over again. He meticulously analyzed every last detail of what the cameras could catch of Starscream’s synth-en rampage.

*”EY- HEY, MEGATRON! MEGSY! I have a girlfriend now and youuuuuu~ don’t!”* The seeker slurred.

On the screen, his optics glared neon green from the synth-en coursing through his system. He flipped off the ship’s captain from the command center’s entrance.

Soundwave had been promptly scolded for his security oversight. He took the punishment without complaint or emotion. It was only a few weeks of cleaning duty. After all, little did the crew know that the seeker was playing right into the old soldier’s servos.

He continued analyzing the footage.

*” Hey, tin-can! Did you hear me?! I have- FUCK!”* Soundwave’s former commander had spilled a little bit of his drink on his chassis, prompting him to smash it to the ground and then proceed to let out an audial-damaging shriek.

*“Will someone please get the bird out of here?!”* a purple-color adolescent beastformer at the back of the command center groaned. The teenager’s optics flickered with annoyance without taking their gaze away from the handheld game he was playing with.

The intruder was then aggressively approached by Astrotrain, his massive peds stomping against the cold metal floor. “Shoo, Screamer! You aren’t even supposed to be on this ship!”

Instead of backing away, the enraged seeker let out a sharp hiss and launched up toward the towering mech, talons readied. Thrashing, yelling, and the sound of metal clashing filled the room as Astrotrain attempted to pry Starscream off his faceplate.

The young beastformer, still not looking up from his game, let out a long groan into his comm, “Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!”

On cue, an enraged voice came bellowing down the hall, “STAAARSCREAM!!!”

The seeker immediately bolted, Astrotrain following in pursuit. The giant triple-changer didn’t get far before tripping over his own peds and falling flat on his faceplate. Starscream scurried back through the vent he came through, just before Megatron was able to reach in and grab him. The old warlord shouted profanities as his shoulders blocked him from crawling in after his former second-in-command. Soundwave noticed the expressions on Astrotrain and the juvenile sparkling’s faces, trying their best not to laugh at the absurd visual of Megatron laying flat on his abdomen, with his head inside a vent, trying to force his way through.

The playback suddenly paused. Soundwave looked down at his keyboard, which now had a black cybercat lazily stretched across it. Soundwave gently stroked the creature before picking her up off the keyboard and placing her on his lap, continuing to stroke the cat’s armor-plated head.

“Uuuuuuugh. Can we kill him yet?” Soundwave’s adult son groaned as he spun around in his seat.

Rumble was a well-forged minicon, not blood-related to his father. But he had an unbreakable loyalty to the larger mech nonetheless. He and his twin, Frenzy, were found buried deep within the ruins of the last well. The Autobots had left them for dead, thinking they had found all the stray sparklings. Frenzy screamed and cried for days as Rumble was starving to death in his little arms. But his voice was too little for anyone to hear from so far underground.

Without Soundwave’s extremely acute senses, the twins would have been offline before their first cycle. When he dug through the rubble to reach the tiny sparklings, he was the first adult they had ever seen and imprinted on him immediately. Initially, the high-ranking Decepticon wanted nothing to do with parenthood, but his lonely spark had already fallen in love. He kept them close their entire lives. He never allowed another Decepticon to even yell at them.

“Can we kill him now PLEAAASSE?!” Rumble complained.

Soundwave simply stated, “Patience, little one.” Before unpausing the recording.

“uuuuUUUUGH! WHY?!” Rumble stood up in his seat and began gnawing on the back of it, “ I want him DEAD! DEAD NOW!” he mumbled aggressively with his mouth full, trying to tear apart the char like a feral dog.

Soundwave, not speaking, gave the unruly minicon a side-optic glare. Rumble returned to an appropriate seating position.

The video feed switched to the brig. While navigating the vents, Starscream had unintentionally crawled his way to Barricade’s cell. The unstable Decepticon immediately attacked the seeker with a sword he had smuggled in. Due to the synth-en coursing through his system, Starscream was able to grab the sword and viscously stab Barricade to death. Rumble watched the feed with his adoptive sire. His optics fixated on the carnage with a sick sense of wonder.

“At least it was just Cade this time.” the young Minicon remarked nonchalantly.

Starscream slipped back into the vent, rambling incoherently between his maniacal laughter. The feed switched again to him sneaking back to the mini-groundbridge that connected the fleet’s ships. He made it through, now out of sight. But Soundwave had far more access to the fleet’s security network than he allowed others to know. He switched to the Ark’s security feed.

Upon seeing Starscream appear through the groundbridge covered in blood-energon, Strongarm stopped him right there for questioning.

“How many times do we have to tell you that you can’t be using the groundbridge without a cha-” she noticed his neon-green optics. “Oh Primus, you are absolutely ZOOTED, aren’t you?”

Starscream anxiously scratched at his neck cables, “Well… you see what happened was- OH MY GOD, A SCRAPLET!” He gasped and pointed to the wall behind Strongarm.

She stood there, giving him a very unamused look. “Starscream, did you get into another fight?”

“Fuck it. SPIN MOVE!” Starscream clumsily spun around behind the cadet, lightly whacking her in the face with a wing.

“Come on, man! Knock it off!” Strongarm protested just before the seeker bolted into the Ark’s halls. “SON OF A-” she called up Jazz on her comm straight away. “Screamers’ running around juiced up on synth-en again! Keep an optic out for the creep.”

Soundwave watched the feed switch from camera to camera as he ran around for about 20 clicks, then finally laying down in front of Skyfire’s room, sobbing in the fetal position.

“WOW.” Was all Rumble could say. He hopped out of his seat. “I’m bored. I’m gonna go annoy Skywarp in the brig.”

Soundwave placed a firm servo on the minicon’s shoulder. “Do not get yourself in trouble again.” The expressionless mask on Soundwave’s face didn’t prevent Rumble from feeling piercing optics glare from behind his father’s visor.

Rumble’s shoulder’s slumped as he pouted. “Come on, Boss! I’m sick of waiting around!”

Soundwave thought in silence for a moment. Rumble scratched Ravage on the rump as he waited for a response. The lazy old cybercat stretched out her limbs at the minicon’s warm touch.

“Amusing creature.” Soundwave said flatly as he looked down at his companion and offered her a loving stroke along her back.

One of Ravage’s outstretched paws hit a key on the console. It suddenly rewound the security feed back to the Nemesis’s command center.

*”EY- HEY, MEGATRON! MEGSY! I have a girlfriend now and youuuuuu~ don’t!”*

Soundwave paused, staring at the screen for a moment. A shit-eating grin appeared on Rumble’s face, as if he could read his father’s mind.

Soundwave looked down at his son with his typical expressionless, masked gaze. “Find her.”

#transformers au #transformers fanfic #maccadam #windscream #kobd

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