#a glitch in the matrix; (CRACK)

[acr3ss-the-cosmos]

✏️ for aventurine and jiaoqiu and/or phainon and tribbie and/or aglaea and tribbie and/or feixiao and yukong!

incorrect quotes generator. accepting! @apocryphis

Jiaoqiu: Aventurine and I are no longer friends. Aventurine: JIAOQIU THAT IS THE WORST WAY TO TELL PEOPLE THAT WE’RE DATING!

--

Jiaoqiu: Have you heard of Murphy’s law? The one where if something can go wrong, it will go wrong? Aventurine: Yeah, I have. Jiaoqiu: Have you heard of Cole’s law? Aventurine: Is this a joke about coleslaw? Jiaoqiu: …maybe.

--

Phainon: And what do we say when someone refuses your offer? Tribbie: Suck it, boomer! Phainon: I don't know who "Boomer" is, but no.

--

Tribbie: What state do you live in? Phainon: I live in a state of constant anxiety.

--

Aglaea, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day? Tribbie: … Tribbie: What’s in the box? Aglaea: What woul- Tribbie: Aglaea, what’s in the box? Aglaea: I think you know.

--

Tribbie: Dude, we can get mythical animals! Maybe I’ll get a penguin! Aglaea: Penguins are real. Tribbie: That’s the spirit, Aglaea! They’re real to me too!

--

Feixiao: Guys, they're definitely prepared for us. They even have a training model of our brand new top-secret stealth helicopter. Yukong: No you idiot, that’s ours we crashed! Feixiao: Oh yeah. I guess that makes more sense.

--

Yukong: Sorry it took so long to bail you out of jail. Feixiao: No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have used my phone call to prank call the police station.

[artsy-hobbitses]

One of the images that would not leave my head is that of Prowl coming face to face with the man he once was, which happens during TTB's Functionist! AU arc and becomes a narrative testament to the growth he's gone through as a person inside, as opposed to the shiny, chrome outer growth of P7031 who sees him as a glitch that has to be eradicated. So they go Highlander on each other because THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE As an additional treat, a short fic under the cut!

Preston Wan Peirong - Prowl

Jace Zayden - Functionist!AU Jazz

Benjamin ‘Ben’ Bane - Functionist AU Bumblebee

Hanley Riordan - HotRod

Hale Donovan - Hound

Stefan Scavarro - Starscream

Spencer Rao Shouren - Springer 

Breaking into Sentinel Prime’s base was a deathwish back in his own universe, and it was no different here, Preston Wan mused to himself as he slipped out of the shadows during the five minute window — just as he’d predicted — where the guards at the outpost were scheduled to change shifts before beckoning the rest of the ground crew to follow in his stead. 

The first line of defense cleared, they silently made their way towards the heart of the self-proclaimed dictator’s operations, breaths hitching in unison every time a guard passed a hair’s breadth away from them.

The base schematics Jace Zayden had managed to hack into and download through one of the contractors’ stolen biometrics data revealed a network of utility corridors which saw little use from the guardsmen — minute cracks in the citadel’s defenses they could capitalize on. 

“How close are we to the laboratories?” Jace inquired under his breath as behind him, Benjamin Bane surreptitiously peeked at the hologram of a map emitted from a prosthetic hand. 

“There’s a turn 500m ahead—we gotta take a right from there,” the youngest member of the team murmured, frowning slightly before adding: “You really think that’s where we’ll find them?”

“If what we know about the Matrix is true and Stefan’s communications with us are found out — and I’m sure they have been — then yes,” Preston said with a nod as they moved deeper into enemy territory. “The Quintessons ate those of us they couldn’t use—with greed rivaling theirs, I don’t believe Sentinel would waste a warm body on a grave over a weapon. Ours included.”

Jace winced. 

“A ‘We got this team, let’s not get caught’ would have sufficed.” 

“Pep talks are your specialty,” Preston reminded the rebellion leader with a raised eyebrow. “Facts are mine.” 

“Like you keep proving with every sentence, my man,” Jace responded with a resigned sigh as they were halfway to the turn, when he suddenly came to a dead halt. 

The raised hackles, the snarl, Preston knew what it meant even before he caught the faintest sound of gravel crunching underneath metallic soles approaching them. 

“It’s him,” came the low growl from the shambling mass of fur and muscle that was Hale Donovan, who suddenly loomed over them protectively. 

“Hey, it’s five on one tin man this time, and between the lot o’ us, I like those odds,” Hanley Riordan pointed out, taking on a defensive stance, and immediately Preston could feel a migraine coming along at the risk of the plan derailing entirely. 

“Listen to me. Any changes to the plan at this stage, and we risk losing both Starscream and the Matrix,” he said sternly as he held out an arm to bar the rest of the group from engaging with their pursuer.  “Keep the pace. I’ll stall him.” 

Ben and Hanley both opened their mouths to protest, though Jace’s voice cut through the tension first. 

“We’re not leaving you to get smoked out here!” 

“Don’t be dramatic, I have no intention of disobeying a direct order by dying out here,” came Preston’s brisk assurance with a wry, fleeting grin as the pistols hooked to his belt hummed to life. 

“An order from whom?!” Jace snapped, his grip on the Autobot chief strategist 's shoulder tightening as the heavy footfalls echoed closer to them. 

There was a pause as Preston clutched the grips of his firearms, stoic features softening with tender solemnity. Home. He’d been ordered to complete the mission and come home. Home to Spencer, who needed him more than ever now. Home to—

“You.” 

Jace blinked and took a second to compute an order that seemingly never passed his lips; the thought was about as absurd as the idea of two Prestons inhabiting the same universe; One a hated nemesis, the other a fledgling friend. 

“... Aight. Holding you to my order, Prowler,” said the rebellion leader firmly as he thumped the ex-cop’s chestplate twice with the side of his fist in a brotherly manner, gaze dripping with loathing for the figure that strode purposefully out of the shadows. “Go full Highlander on his ass.” 

With a sharp flick of the hand, Jace led the rest of the crew and made a dash for the laboratory block, while Preston positioned himself to block any access to their path. 

The figure, all sleek steel and titanium save for a face that he imagined was as devoid of warmth as his was from years ago, stopped nine feet away from him.

“I’m under directives from the Prime to take all of you in for questioning,” P7031 said emotionlessly, cocking his fist to activate a firing gauntlet. 

“Affirmative. I’m under my own to see to it that you don’t, and my captain’s to ensure I survive this encounter,” Preston responded in kind as he whipped out his pistols. 

P7031’s blank slate of a face suddenly rippled with something that looked like it could have been pompous scorn. 

“Strong words for a glitch. And what exactly do you imagine you can do against a better version of youself in every conceivable way?”

There was a second’s pause as Preston thought back to the man he once was a lifetime ago, a perfect cog in the machinery he was told kept the peace for the good of the many. He’d been taught to view deviation from his purpose and the system as something that had to be fixed—a glitch, as P7031 had so eloquently put it. But if it was one thing his time with the Autobots, with Jace had taught him, it was that he was more than his purpose, more than his past, and more than the copy of The Art Of War which those who shared the barcode on his neck were ordered to memorize word for word from the moment their small hands were steady enough to hold a weapon. 

“Improvise.” 

[lakesbian]

recently remembered that at the end of worm aisha talks about stealing people's pants every time they go to the bathroom and it was cracking me up. she's so fucking funny.

Like imagine what this is like from the perspective of the person she's stalking. They go to the bathroom, and when they're done, they realize that their pants are gone. They know they were wearing their pants, they clearly remember pulling them down. They were looking at them less than a minute ago. It's completely confounding, because it's not possible for them to have simply misplaced an entire pair of pants somewhere between pulling them down and using the toilet. And yet, their pants are gone. They check the laundry room, their laundry hamper, their bedroom, and anywhere else they could have feasibly put their pants in the event they were just...imagining that they were wearing pants into the bathroom? But the pants remain gone, having seemingly vanished from the universe while they weren't paying attention, so they have to just go put on new pants. Maybe they post about it on Earth Bet's equivalent of a glitch in the matrix subreddit or whatever, but without any real chance of an explanation, they eventually stop thinking about it.

Until the next time they go to the bathroom. When their pants disappear again. And the next time after that, and the next next time after that, and so on. It is no longer mildly bemusing. Things have evolved beyond "that weird thing that happened to me once that I might tell as a story later" and into "I only have 2 pairs of pants left, because the rest of them disappeared into the fucking ether when I went to the bathroom, and now I'm both scared to pee and afraid that I am either going crazy or being haunted by some sort of niche vengeful ghost that other people will think I'm crazy if I try to tell them about."

And, more practically pressing than the subtle horror of a large object just magically disappearing off your person at regular times in a way you can't ascertain the cause of or stop: They're gonna have to buy new pants.

So they go to a clothing store. They briefly consider using the bathroom while there, but then remember The Consequences, and go straight it the changing rooms instead. They hang up their new pant selections. They look away for a mere moment to take off their current (and last remaining) pair of pants. They look back up and reach for one of the pants they're going to try on.

All Of The Pants They Brought Into The Stall Are Gone.

They immediately look back down, with the frantic horror of someone who already knows what they're going to see, and well you're not going to fucking believe this, but: The Pair Of Pants They Were Already Wearing Is Also Gone.

like what do you even do about this. absurd form of psychological torture. aisha smiling smugly while her victim stands there stranded in naught but underpants, haunted and vexed by the unbelievable pants-stealing ghost. maybe they try to tell their friends about it and demonstrate after that and it's the one time she Doesn't take their pants. they think they're going completely batshit or being tormented by a very immature demon. aisha laborn you are so so special and famous to me

[thoughtsafterdark]

Changeling

Years ago

When I fell I love with the shake of a head

The sweep of a fringe across honey eyes

With hard edges and cutting comments

With earnestness and sincerity

Trembling, pouting lips

And everything in between

When the thought of going to bed with strangers unnerved me

I was so in love with the unwavering notion of love

I thought there must be something wrong with me

When I was 13 I had a letterbox of loves, real and imagined, made from long sighs and airy thoughts

and I would take them out, carefully, blow off the dust and cobwebs at birthdays and holidays

Dance with ghouls under the green and red and blue Christmas lights

The hazy mouldy smog of the artificial tree made my throat itch, triggered asthma attacks

A 1970s astigmatic capitalist daydream

Our reflections mirrored on baubles in the dark of Christmas Eve

And I lived there between branches

Polypropylene leaves digging into my skin

And I would whisper in their ears

Exchange love notes by the nativity scene

Who needed friends when I had

Tempero parietal epilepsy

And a rich internal life

(Autism diagnosis pending)

Sometimes I think

Whatever happened to her

To that wild, wide eyed, unsettling little changeling

The one who would watch the washing machine for hours

Hypnotised by the universes trapped in soap bubble films

They warp and change divide and split. Mitose. Evolve. Is this what it is to play god. We are closer to him in those years. Half formed clay golems with chubby, pawing fingers, muddy hair and drooling eyes.

If I were to crawl into his lap

Do you think he would hug me close like my father never did

I remember mornings

On the way to school

Stomach in knots

I remember French toast smothered in buttery creaminess. Bottled sunshine. Red berries popping on my tongue. Bursts of blood red flesh against retainers. An autumnal afternoon wrapped in a nauseous morning haze. Palms drenched in sweat.

I remember mud and dirt on knees, under fingernails. The feel of butterfly wing powder on my fingers.  Digging through mud, playing with ants. I used to pluck out their legs one by one, and watch as the others tore it apart.

I remember the hypnotic lick of flames against midnight skies, paper towns and cardboard dollhouse burning to ashes in the wind. I used to imagine the screams.

Don't you think fire is so poetic. Some glitch in the matrix. As alive as a dead thing can be. Heat and light, ionised air, a chain reaction that spreads and jumps from one thing to another? Destroys in its wake. The cancer of the dead world, with its own nefarious self replicating agenda. The 2nd Law of Thermodynamics, heat death made sentient. Saltatory conduction and Conway's game of life (or death)

Do you suppose with enough time it could learn to think? Do you believe if it could it would scream?

She's been locked in her cell for too long. I'm so so tired and the mask is melting.

I used to think I was good at reading people. At empathising. Now I wonder was it just her. Playing with puzzles, matching faces to appropriate responses.

I can feel her waking up, with her wide fae eyes, her long pointed ears. The better to see you with my dear. Better to quirk a head to the side and hear you with my dear. Unhinge her jaw and swallow you whole. Feel my spine crack, bones rearrange, muscles twist. The crunch of food plunging down my throat. My scales contracting around the bolus, accommodating, slithering.

They say hate and love are two sides to the same coin and I am inclined to agree. I thought I knew hate, and then you came. Like a storm that left me desolate and full of rage. I can feel the bitterness and fury sharpening itself in my gut every time I hear your voice. The blade melting, forging. The voice driving me insane. To best you, leave you in the dust. I am so so bone tired.

Sometimes I wonder

If I should love my hourglass body more

There are moments when I envy men

But never as much as now

Nothing drives my dysphoria like

Wanting to gauge out your eyes with my fingers

And fuck your empty eye sockets while you scream

Feel the supraorbital notch against my pelvis

Revel in the wet, garish squelch

I think you've gone braindead but that's alright

That's what my fingers buried in your nape are for

There is blood everywhere, god so much blood.

And here you had us all thinking you couldn't bleed

(Shut up

You all know

If I were a man

Writing about a woman

Pinning her down

Rearranging her insides

You would clap and ooh and ahh

Such a tortured soul, aching for release

Slaps on the back and salutations

"Tell us Stanley! Oh did you know since you were

a fucked up little boy pulling on Pigtails

That your self-indulgent gore pornography would revolutionise the medium of film?")

My momma used to say, clutching at her bloated belly

that she would love any baby

As long as it was happy and healthy

And! As long as it wasn't mentally...deficient. She would laugh then. How could she have a baby like that.

Some say I'm a genius mommy

I was the best in my class

But why do I feel like

I should tell you I'm sorry

I really did try

But mommy I'm so tired

I want to go to sleep

My bones are sick of trying

And the redcaps in the Earth are calling to me

They're so hungry momma

And so am I

I hope you find your real daughter mommy

Hope she has your eyes

I hope you get to love her mommy

Just not the way you loved me

[diorsluv]

die for you , part 2

“ no point in turning off the lights ”

series m. list previous chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by ilia_quadg0d_malinin, lhughes_06, jpav8, and 299,193 others

yourusername i flew all the way to virginia to try pairs skating with him.. then we got forced into a mock comp. NEVER AGAIN.

(photo evidence of him death glaring me when i asked him to carry my luggage 5 feet into the house)

tagged: ilia_quadg0d_malinin

view all comments

ilia_quadg0d_malinin YOU KEPT FALLING OFF MY SHOULDERS

→ yourusername YOU COULDN’T EVEN BALANCE WHEN WE WERE HOLDING HANDS

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin BECAUSE YOUR HANDS WERE SO SLIPPERY

→ yourusername FYM MY HANDS WERE LITERALLY NUMB.

username26 first post in so long that trev HASN’T liked 😭😭

wyattjohnston_ LMFAO DID HE DROP YOU ON YOUR FACE AGAIN

→ yourusername no 🤬

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin AGAIN?? last time i didn’t drop her on her face it was just her head 😔

_alexturcotte it’s the next vasilisa and valeriy in the making

→ yourusername how the hell do you know who they are????

→ _alexturcotte i’ve been doing my research 😈

→ yourusername then maybe you’ll be a better skating partner because CLEARLY it isn’t ilia

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin BRO IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU WERE ALWAYS TRIPPING

→ yourusername HELLO??? YOU LITERALLY TANGLED YOUR SKATES IN MY BLADES

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin SAYS THE ONE WHO CRACKED HER SKULL OPEN TRIPPING OVER HER LACES AS A KID

→ yourusername THAT’S A FAMILY LIE I SWEAR

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin THEN WHY DO THEY ALL CALL YOU LACEY FUCKING DUMBASS

→ yourusername they like to bring up my past trauma… 😔

jackhughes someone’s a little jealous

→ username84 😟

→ username55 TREVOR?

→ username23 IS THAT WHY HE DIDN’T LIKE THE POST

→ username93 mhmm and who are we talking about here let’s be REALLLL specific 🤨

username44 all trevor’s friends are dropping the fattest hints rn

username92 AWWW yall are so cute

→ yourusername no not cute i think he’s trying to murder me

matt9duchene you better come back home before we play the ducks

→ yourusername I WILL I WILL don’t worry 😔

→ hhinee i know you wouldn’t want to miss that oppurtunity

→ yourusername i won’t miss it i swear

mush__27 don’t put the poor kid to labor

→ yourusername ur right.. if he couldn’t lift my luggage how could i expect him to lift me up on the ice

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin stop calling me weak 💔

miroheiskanen hold on is he the guy you’re talking about?

→ yourusername WHAT NO i would never date his ass

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin when did this turn into you bullying me

username3 i’m sensing a glitch in the matrix why hasn’t trevor liked the post

→ username76 he’s too busy being jealous of ilia 💀

username34 ilia looks so done

username20 we need you to perform the routine RN

jasonrob19 your mom was looking at my phone and now she’s asking if you got severely hurt

→ yourusername yes i got really really severely hurt and i need motherly assistance rn

jamiebenn14 this isn’t the boyfriend?

→ yourusername NO HE’S NOT 😭😭

→ wyattjohnston_ it’s the other ice sport

→ tseguin92 speed skating??

→ logan.stankoven no the OTHER other ice sport

→ jpav8 ice soccer?

→ t.harley48 the other OTHER other ice sport

→ matt9duchene ohhhh curling?

→ yourusername oh my god…

colecaufield blink twice if you’re being held hostage

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin BLINK BLINK

→ yourusername he’s just trying to get attention

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin ????

username47 tell me you’re considering doing pairs again 🙏🙏

→ yourusername idk about that one… (please god no)

nickrobertson01 remember when you fell on top of me and almost cracked my head open when we were kids

→ yourusername remember when i said i have 10x more blackmail on you than you do on me 😍

→ jasonrob19 actually i’m the one with all the blackmail

→ yourusername shhh you know nothing

trevorzegras

liked by jackhughes, colecaufield, yourusername, and 292,268 others

trevorzegras 🦆🦆

view all comments

jackhughes numero 11 stays on top 😮‍💨

→ colecaufield 22 is arguably better

→ _alexturcotte u just doubled the number bro

→ colecaufield bc i’m doubly better???

→ trevorzegras uhhh is that even a word

username31 is trevor in his aesthetic era???

username97 i love the ducks but their jersey is such a jumpscare

yourusername let’s go fucks

liked by trevorzegras

→ yourusername oh my god i meant ducks

→ yourusername there goes my reputation

→ colecaufield i love the anaheim fucks 🔥

→ ilia_quadg0d_malinin i wasn’t gonna comment on the post but.. how’d you manage to screw up this badly

→ _alexturcotte tell me you’re stupid without telling me you’re stupid

→ yourusername WHY ARE F AND D RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER

→ trevorzegras LMFAO that’s cute

username25 bro really thought he could sneak in that lipstick stain pic

→ username72 more evidence that him and lacey r dating fr

mush__27 excited to play you next week!

→ trevorzegras thanks man

username2 oh lord the stars are commenting now

colecaufield when you come to montreal we’re gonna have a nice long chat in a dark closet where there’s nowhere to hide

→ trevorzegras oh

→ trevorzegras again?

→ colecaufield “again”????

→ _alexturcotte oh it’s okay i already did that 🤗

wyattjohnston_ 🦆

→ trevorzegras ⭐️

_quinnhughes i hope you know i’m praying on your downfall

→ trevorzegras i’ll be forever grateful. 😐

username67 they gotta be fucking on the dl

username21 tell me she’s not getting railed after every game like hello?? insta interactions don’t lie ❌

→ username50 that’s so specific.. 😰

jamie.drysdale we will we will quack you ‼️

→ trevorzegras ducks wannabe 🙄🙄

→ jamie.drysdale okay i see how it is..

lhughes_06 $200 is on the line dude

→ trevorzegras you’re the ones placing bets it’s not my fault if you lose all your money 🤷‍♂️

→ jackhughes $250 now cuz u mentioned it to him 🙄

→ _quinnhughes i’m gonna be SO unbelievably rich

anaheimducks and when did you go on a cruise?

→ trevorzegras 🤫

→ anaheimducks 🧏‍♂️

→ masonmctavish23 please for the love of god stop mewing it’s not funny

tseguin92 i got my eye on you kid

notes ) ew ew ew i don’t like it but it is what it is

tags: @dancerbailey3 @lexihowardsgf @bunbunbl0gs

[acr3ss-the-cosmos]

"Your guess is as good as mine, Rook..." 😓

"What in the fuck is happening here? Is there some kind of puzzle game happening where everyone gotta use codes? I'm seeing numbers everywhere."

[sombredancer]

Dark (2017-2020, Netflix)

Just rewatched Dark and I`m in love and in pain, pain, PAIN...

Beware of being heavily spoiled ahead.

The first painful question: would you save your father from sufferings, if it would mean for you to be erased from existence for good? (From this question on started my love for this show).

The second question: is it really wrong, to love someone you shouldn`t love? Will it cause the end of the world?

The desperate abduction. Oh, it was so beautiful!

The third question: will you really be happy with the truth about a time loop that you helped to build with your own hands, when you are able to see the whole picture?

At the end I felt sorry even for him. The fourth question: how does it feel, to try so hard to change your doom and save your loved ones, only to find out that you are the source of their most unbearable pain?

"You are a too good man. Always was. This world didn't deserve you." It's a story about an infinite pain of each and every character: Katharina, Ulrich, Claudia and H.G. Tannhaus, who loved their relatives too much; Hannah, who loved herself too much; Jonas, Mikkel, Martha, Hanno, Charlotte, Elisabeth, Peter, Egon and Helge, who fell victims of the time-travel paradox. It's funny that an insane love for a child launched this glitch in a matrix and another insane love for a child put it all to the end. A circle closed. Poetic.

The fifth question: would you fix the error in a matrix by self-sacrifice, if it would delete you and half of your nearest and dearest from existence but ends the never-ending circle of pain for others?

"We match perfectly. Never believe in anything else."

"The light glitched, there was a loud crack and then everything went dark. And somehow the world came to an end. There was dark and the light never came again. I had such a peculiar feeling like it was for the best. Like it was finally over. Like one was finally free from everything. Nothing to wish. Nothing to be obliged to do. An eternal dark. No yesterday. No now. No tomorrow. Nothing."

Finally, I should say that I'm very grateful to Germans for this series. I watched it in original in order to train my German AND because it was a very-very interesting show. Even when I watched it for the second time. One time is surely not enough for understanding of the plot, trust me.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Corrupted Code 5 | Corrupted Code 4

Pairing: Connor RK800 x Android!Reader

Summary: They were designed to be perfect. She and Connor were CyberLife’s greatest achievements—flawless prototypes, logical, efficient, incapable of deviation. They were built to complement each other, two halves of the same machine, designed to enforce order in a world teetering on the edge of chaos. She was supposed to be perfect. But then Connor came back. And the cracks started to show.

The interrogation room was dimly lit, the overhead fluorescents flickering slightly. Inside, the deviant sat rigidly at the metal table, LED flashing yellow, hands clasped together like they were holding onto the last pieces of themselves.

Beyond the two-way mirror, in the observation room, tension already hung thick in the air.

Hank stood with his arms crossed, a deep frown set into his face.

Gavin was slouched against the wall, smirking like he had already figured out the punchline to a joke only he found funny.

And then there was her and Connor.

Standing side by side, too close, too charged, too ready for something to snap.

They had been walking a thin wire since the moment Connor had said those words.

And tonight? It was going to break.

Gavin let out a low whistle, tilting his head as he watched the deviant through the glass. “Poor little tin can. Bet he didn’t even know what hit him.”

Her LED flickered yellow.

Connor’s posture straightened. “The victim was found with multiple stab wounds,” he said, voice controlled. “Based on preliminary scans, the attack was not premeditated but triggered by severe stress responses in the deviant’s processing matrix.”

Gavin snorted. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Severe stress.’ Real tragic.” He turned to Hank with a grin. “You think they start cryin’ about their feelings before or after they stab someone?”

Hank exhaled sharply. “Jesus Christ, Reed.”

“What? I’m just saying,” Gavin continued, grinning wider, “they’re all just glitches waiting to happen. Flip the wrong switch and BAM—your toaster shanks you in your sleep.”

She tensed. Connor’s LED pulsed yellow.

Hank shot Gavin a sharp look. “You want to shut up now, or you wanna keep runnin’ that mouth and see if I toss you in there with him?”

Gavin shrugged, completely unbothered. “What? I say somethin’ that upset the happy couple?”

Her fingers twitched. Her LED flared red. And then, finally—

She turned on Connor.

“Tell me you’re not actually sympathizing with it,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the room.

Connor remained still. “I’m analyzing the case.”

“No, you’re making excuses.” She stepped closer, LED pulsing erratically. “You hesitated before. And now you’re rationalizing why this thing—” she motioned to the deviant behind the glass, “—murdered a human.”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow. “The deviant exhibited high levels of fear—”

“Oh, spare me,” she spat. “I don’t care if it was afraid. It killed someone. That is deviation. That is failure.”

Connor’s expression remained unreadable, but his LED flashed again.

“If we define deviation as failure,” he said carefully, “then what does that make you?”

She stilled.

The silence was sharp, too sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.

Then—Her LED flared red.

And then she shoved him.

Connor stumbled back a step, but his balance was perfect—he did not fall.

She was already moving.

Another shove—this one harder.

Connor’s hands came up—defensive, not retaliatory.

“You need to—”

She swung.

Faster than a human could react, faster than anyone had time to process, her fist connected with his jaw, knocking his head to the side with the force of it.

Connor absorbed the hit, LED flashing red, processing whether or not to engage.

He barely had time.

Because she was already hitting him again.

"Whoa—Shit!"

Gavin pushed off the wall, startled but also deeply entertained.

Hank's eyes widened before he lunged forward. “Stand the hell down!”

She didn’t hear him.

Didn’t see anything but Connor.

Her fists connected again, this time at his shoulder, before she tried to grab him. Throw him. Pin him. Something.

Connor blocked this time.

He didn’t strike back. He never would.

But he had to stop her.

He grabbed her wrist, holding her firm but not crushing.

“Stop.”

His voice was steady. Too steady.

And that only infuriated her more.

She twisted, trying to break free, but he didn’t let go.

For a moment, they were locked there, strength against strength, tension against tension—red and red, two forces colliding in real time.

And then—

Hank yanked her back.

“That’s enough!”

Connor immediately released her.

She ripped herself away from Hank’s grip, LED flashing wildly, chest rising and falling with mechanical precision.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing.

Gavin laughed. “Jesus,” he grinned, shaking his head. “You two gotta start renting a room or somethin’.”

Her head snapped toward him.

Gavin put up his hands in mock defense, smirking. “Hey, hey—just sayin’. Ain’t nobody throwing punches like that unless they wanna f—”

Hank smacked him upside the head.

“Shut the hell up, Reed.”

[feebisart]

The Door You Don't Knock On (2/4)

(( Trigger Warning: Unreality ))

The door closed with a click, and the embodiment of It Is Not What It Is looked impossible over and under the small boy. Billy had his eyes closed, smiling with his mouth in a placid, composed demeanor.

"Would you like some tea?" Billy set the tray onto the shifting, inverting table as he sat on a chair that looped into itself, shifting through nothingness into unreality—fractals spinning in vivid technicolor, blending into nonexistent hues.

Purple does not exist.

The Entity curled, melding and bisecting itself with a hissing, sharp, jarring laughter. "I would be happy to!" The joyful, playful tone undercut the needle-sharp fractals and diamonds' idea of an arm.

Its pointed tips screeched as it took hold of the teapot, bringing it to pour the melted glass and oolong tea into a perfectly white teacup. Fine China that Tawny had lovingly cleaned and displayed in Billy's apartment.

Well, it was now a masterpiece of surrealism.

The teacup warped and shifted in the Entity's hands, carrying the mixture as the hands brought it up to spiraling, gaping hole that was its mouth.

It pierced a scone that immediately flayed apart—flakes coming undone, snaking around the sharp edges of the fractal, tinsel on a Christmas tree.

That slid down its dark, seemingly endless cavern of a mouth.

"How refreshing~" It trilled out as a low, menacing hum shifted the ceiling.

Billy wrapped his fingers around the deformed handle of the teapot, feeling an involuntary quiver in his fingers before steadying with support from his other hand. Pouring the liquid porcelain and oolong tea mixture, his calm mask held firm, unbroken like the perfectly white teacup beneath the stream. Ribbons of gloss-white and translucent reddish-brown tea gathered atop the lip, a delicate brush of ice caps against the side of a Martian Peak.

"What is your name?" The boy politely asked with closed eyes and a pleasant smile.

"My name? Names are such slippery things. Why, you may call me Michael...it's quite airy, but it will do." The entity spun, a pirouette of neon colors, fractals, and waves of shades. "Why did you walk through my Door?"

"I wanted you to leave me and Fawcett's citizens alone." Billy stated with confidence...despite the slight tremble in his hands.

"Oh?" Several mouths opened up in the fractals before him, lilting and harmonizing in a round of warbling laughter, "but their fear is so uniquely delicious. You forget yourself." The shapes stretched out dissipating into tiny stars as if gesturing to all points around them. "This place bends for me."

"Hmm." Billy rubbed his chin as he tilted his head slightly. "How about a game? I win; I get what I want. You win," its grin swirled into a whirlpool filled with glinting shark teeth. "...and I rather you keep that to yourself."

"Intriguing. Fine, a game of Hide and Seek. I'll-" The needles drooped as drapes tapping against the undulating floor.

Billy interrupted, setting his teacup down on the plate with a clink despite the acute angle he was sitting at. "I will be the Seeker."

The air stilled, a pause in eternity as if something fundamental to the monster had faltered. A glitch in the Matrix—a ripple of an idea spreading throughout this Place.

The fractals twisted and pulsated with offense, curling around the teapot, peeling the porcelain into thin slivers of strips. The Spiral's voice spoke with a jagged dissonance of a vinyl player deliberately playing shattered discs.

‎‎‎‎‎‎   ‎‎‎‎‎‎"You?

Seek I a

me?" m

 Everywhere."

The spiral descended into cacophonous laughter; large spikes protruded from the being's continuously expanding hexagonal ridges. Mandelbrot grooves spilled outwards, cracks propagated in the translucent material—rivers carving new paths through collapsing translucent ground and crumbling debris. Surging crystalline hexagons grew within the cracks—a chaotic crowd crush interlocking of grains stretching the limbs to point in all possible directions.

"No. Find where I Am Not."

"What do you mean-" Billy asked with a crease on his forehead and a crinkle between his brow.

One moment, a boy was asking a simple question and the next-

Chartreuse wallpaper bubbled, releasing bursts of cherry soda and motor oil into the air, the smells sharp enough to sting. The wood and paint converge into shimmering, viscous oils radiating with the red-hot glow of a furnace.

Drops of viscous liquid dripped onto the floor, transforming into doors that spread throughout the ground, a tile pattern of doors. Each swung with a discordant rhythm, slamming shut or open as wide as it could, threatening to rip the door off its hinge.

The rough surface of the popcorn ceiling began to grow in size, smelling of butter and formaldehyde—the penetrating, pungent odor piercing into the brain. They crowded the ceiling, burning into charcoal chips as they touched the ever-contracting walls. The layers of glowing oils began to wrap around the room, gradually constricting its prey.

Billy teetered on the dark wooden doorframe. A sudden slam rattled the wood beneath him, almost making the boy fall into the gaping holes below. Pulling himself up, he wobbled, arms outstretched, before a balance beam.

The boy's narrowed eyes gazed straight ahead as he began to run. Surging with determination, he bent his knees as the door slammed violently beneath him—arm swinging like a windmill. The force launched him airborne, arms finishing the rotation before latching onto a large chunk of popcorn.

The popcorn balloon swayed under the boy's weight, plunging suddenly before slowing its descent. Billy sunk his fists deep into the fluffy ridges, crumbling to dust with his iron grip. A memory surfaced—of jumping with a helium balloon only for gravity to shatter his dreams of flying.

The puffed corn continued to descend at a constant rate. Scrambling, the boy clawed himself up on top, shifting his weight towards a closed door. His heart throbbed in his chest as the popcorn dipped further, charring into chips that disintegrated into ash.

Just as they would collide, the door ripped open, and he slipped through, tumbling into opaque darkness.

Gravity flipped.

The world tilted on its axis, and his stomach lurched at the sudden shift. Vertigo overtook the boy as he fell harshly onto the popcorn, landing with a thud. The sizzling and smell of burnt rubber assaulted his senses. Below was a sea of glowing red with veins of chartreuse paint and golden light; fissures snaked through the blackened, viscous surface. Slow pops and sharp hisses seeped out of the slow-moving mass.

The popcorn was charring on the bottom as Billy was hit with a sense of impending doom. He pushed himself off the buttered floor, swung his head around, and observed several pieces of furniture, untouched by the heavy heat, floating along the stream—tables, chairs, cabinets, and books scattered like buoys across fiery currents. Strangely, the teacup from before bobbed alone in the scorching ocean.

A realization hit him.

The floor is lava.

Peering around, the boy spotted a large wooden table floating on top of the sizzling liquid's surface. Gathering the courage, he sprung towards the dining table. The moment he landed, the table abruptly tipped forward under the child's weight, spraying molten rock against the black walnut wood. Stomach twisting with dread, the tiny hero shook his head as he slid to the other side to counterbalance the weight.

The molten lava hissed and crackled but for a breath moment, Billy could swear he heard Michael's laughter.

Taking a breath as he steadied himself, he squinted through the molten expanse, scanning past the debris for a suitable path. In the distance, he saw a couch atop a faint, colorful surface, pristine fabric untouched by shimmering waves of heat. Along the curve of the sofa was a faint image of solid ground, perhaps a mirage, but it was a chance he was going to take.

His gaze darted to the ocean of molten rock, jagged edges of overturned chairs poking through like rock faces. Patches of bubbling magma hissed and burst like stars. He looked down at the upturned chair wobbling beside him; its legs were just within reach as an idea began to form.

Why waste effort and energy jumping from one perch to another when he could just sail past?

He balanced himself on the table, gripping the edges as the flames licked its underside. Grabbing the chair, he carefully angled it as a makeshift paddle. Each push of the chair paddle inched him closer to his goal despite the creaking table and hissing molten waters underneath.

Finally, the couch was within view. The heat of the bubbling stone flicked at his skin while his heartbeat overwhelmed his hearing. The boy wondered if it was just the sounds of molten rock or if Michael had twisted his mind. He jumped onto soft, plush cushions with one push as he sunk into the fabric.

The boy beheld the ever-shifting sky—its overlapping, disheveled layers weaving and interlocking within each other. Twisting and folding paint that dried in different shades, strokes still visible with their thickness. Billy allowed himself a couple of breaths.

After all, he had earned his rest.

But he knew that the Distortion was not done with him yet.

︵‿︵‿୨𖦹୧‿︵‿︵

Prev || Next

[acr3ss-the-cosmos]

They are both judging you so harshly, Caelus.

[starshinesama]

Some sagau memes

cus im having writers block rn.

why are all the ao3 fics I Like always unfinished tho?! 😿 ⊹

Litteraly their always the main protagonists alongside reader lol, not complainin' tho! :3

Basically the 2 sides of sagau

This is basically the plot of "A Glitch in the Matrix - or Crack(heads) in the Abyss? By Cegan" (highly recommend btw :3) ☆

me rn 😭

(I'm not sure if someone's already done some of these but if they have please tag them!) ␥✮

[dreamartv]

I already showed glitches in a drawing or a comic but I've never explained how they work, how do they appear and how do they affect people.

So Discord is a virtual world, a system, so ofc bugs, errors and glitches appear in there. If it goes for glitches, they can affect people and servers. They mostly appear, because of damage and when someone gets hurt. There are some other factors like corrupt user files, getting bugged etc. but they happen less frequently.

They're very not fun and are even dangerous, because they can mess up with people's powers, how servers work, they can create holes for bugs to enter those servers and the most scary one, they can delete users or a server completely (but it mostly happens to users if not treated) (Oscar for example gets cracks on his body (that's also 'cause his gem is cracked on a specific place as well) and his hands are constantly on fire and he can't put them out)

Except the very standard statistics for users in Discord, we also added a special stat just for the glitches and it is called Glitch Resistence. Basically it just shows how resilient a person is to those glitches. The higher the stat (max is 300 points, most people have around 130 points) the less glitches they get and the less it affects them (and less likely they'll get deleted quickly). (The drawings also show you how many glitches our characters have at a critical state so Callie and Matrix have pretty high GR, Lukiek has above avarage, so he has a more than them and Oscar and Temmie have very low GR that's why they're just covered in glitches)

So ye I'm happy I can finally explain a thing or two on how the stuff work in the comic. And now have a laying Tem without the glitches, cuz they look like they didn't landed on their feet. They just splat on the ground and imo it's funny

[starheirxero]

OH GOD, I JUST FINISHED MGAFS' BLOODMOON EPISODE-

I LOVE THE TWINS SO MUCH, THEY ARE SO INCREDIBLY HILARIOUS- Little fuckers are just knocking things over, throwing shit and demanding blood, while refusing anything given to them-

FOXY LITERALLY SPRAYED THEM WITH A WATERBOTTLE AND TREATED THEM LIKE A TODDLER, A DOG, AND A CAT SIMULTANEOUSLY- He ain't having it! :D

Foxy just casually being horrified about their diet is cracking me up- He doesn't know em, he's not aware of what kind of people they are- I honestly forget, that they'd be freaky to an outsider-

Though I am getting rather nervous👀 Frank's warning is almost here! My only guess is, that they could be separated, as it's worse than death to them! Though the question would be: how? Will it be Frank, or maybe Stitchwraith? Could it be a consequence of Ruin's plan, such as a glitch in the matrix? And if it's not separation, what the hell is gonna happen-?

-Stardust

I KNOW RIGHTTT AHAJAGSJDN THEY WERE SUCH LITTLE BASTARDS ON MGAFS IT FILLED ME WITH A JOY LIKE NO OTHER <3<3<3

LITERALLY EXACTLY WHAT U SAID THEY'RE BEING TREATED LIKE A KID AND A PET AT THE EXACT SAME TIME AND ITS THE FUNNIEST POSSIBLE OUTCOME FOR A ROBOT THAT HAS LITERALLY GORED HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE WITH HIS OWN TWO HANDS ABAJAHAJHSJS

AND FOXY YEAHAJAHSJAHC him asking Bloodmoon "is that real" WAS SO FUNNY TO ME LIKE AJSBSKDN he's already just gotten used to Bloodmoon's drama and threats that when he says he Literally Eats Blood he's like "uh huh yea okay are you gunna tell me something true and real now" HSKAHSJWND

BUT THE WHOLE THING WITH FRANK YEA OMS. I saw the comments saying that those 4 weeks are gunna be up in like, 3-ish days? Which simultaneously has me excited as all hell but also so nervous RHAJAHSJ

If its separation I will be SO insanely intrigued as to where that goes and how they'll handle it but like u said if it isn't, then. like are they just gunna explode lunarstyle whats gunna happen HSKWNSKSJ

[jessaerys]

(kind of a long-ish excerpt -- i've been twisting myself into pretzels about posting fic for the first time in years and driving myself crazy about it, so i figured it'd do me good to do a teeny tiny soft launch to demystify the whole thing. as a treat thoughts appreciated :') title may change, we'll see.) texas sharpshooter fallacy flirt mello/near | T (excerpt) | 700ish words | canon compliant.

near knocks.

his idea of inconspicuous is a sharp black coat and matching slacks and aviators now high up and glossy on his head. he knocks, and stands there in the fluorescent headache hallway where he can hear mello’s neighbors two doors over fucking to industrial EDM, their bed and their heads shrieking. as if the shock of white hair and vermeer eyes and his pretty babydoll mouth wouldn’t turn heads from harlem to chinatown. he has to laugh.

the 6th floor hallway is carpeted in cigarette butts and shards of glass and piss and misery, rock-bottom regret, apathy of the take-a-walk-out-of-the-roof variety. the wallpaper is an eyesore from the 70s and the ceilings are crazy cracked. taking the lift is a game of russian roulette. more than one person has died in this floor alone. he knows because it was his finger on the trigger, and fuck, he hasn't bothered to scrub out the stains. the grifters, the killers, the whores: everyone here —everyone— has been forsaken by god.

and near is alone.

for a brief, ridiculous moment mello is fourteen again, filled with a gleeful kind of malice, hoping the crackheads across the hall walk out and see near in all of his freakish man-in-black, little gray alien glory. catnip for psychosis, and right on the money to boot. if mello squints just so, it looks as if near is trapped inside the fishbowl marble universe of his peephole.

“in military strategy,” near says, his voice a tuning silver fork that makes the hair on the back of mello’s head stand on end. it is deeper. more elegant. mello had noticed, earlier, when they’d been strangers in the same room with nothing in common but the race for kira’s head and five years worth of resentment. “to refuse diplomatic entrance to one’s territory would be considered a declaration of war.”

“we already accepted jesus into our hearts.”

inside his grimy spaceship, the corner of near’s mouth quirks for a flash of a kodak moment and then it is gone. glitch in the matrix. mello’s wolfteeth grin knocks painfully into the aluminum.

“and didn’t the lord say offer hospitality to one another without grumbling?”

1 peter 4:9. the verse just before reads: above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

"nothing a couple dozen hail marys won't fix."

above them something shatters against the floor. a woman screams. a weight falls heavy on the floor and then there is silence. the ceiling snows dirty dust all over near’s shoulders like so much winter wonderland. the lights flicker and flicker.

neither of them say anything. mello watches. he can’t see you, he tells himself, feeling like the world's best and brightest buffoon. he's not fucking godtouched.

but near raises a hand to his rosy cherubim face, makes a circle with his thumb and index finger to squint through with one big ophanim eye.

watches the watcher.

“i will wait for sixty seconds.”

mello finds his gun. sticks it in the back of his pants. runs his hands through his hair. pulls his gun out, checks the mag. pops it in place. hesitates. checks it again. he was right the first time. it is empty. thirty eight, thirty seven.

L used to say, it’s a boundary, mello. explicit verbal communication of where the limits are. respecting it preserves the peace. you can choose to ignore it, but you should first know why. and you should be ready for the inevitable outcome.

but what this really is is this: near coming to him alone under cover of night, so naïve he might as well be wearing a neon sign that says mug me or kidnap me or worse! i'm a stupid little boy!; as far he can be from the safety of his prince’s tower all to give little old mello the pleasure a fucking ultimatum.

his blood simmers. his ears ring. his sympathetic nervous system betrays him only ever around near, and near's little sycophant butlers could be just out of sight. he could be here with a swat team and a warrant for his arrest. he could be here to let mello know he has once again taken from him the only thing that's ever made any damn sense in his life.

he tries to breathe through it. tries to weight his options. he tries to be more like L.

he fails.

four, three, two—

near turns to leave.

mello opens the door.

.

.

.

[summerwritesfics]

🌎Open Yourself To Me, Prepare To Entwine

Pairing: Shang Tsung/Kuai Liang Length: 1454 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Sci-fi AU, Android AU, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Request To Die, Android!Kuai Liang (sort of), Roboticist!Shang Tsung, Robotics, Angst

Meanwhile In Another Universe Masterlist

Notes: You know it’s bad when even Shang Tsung thinks something is fucked up. Title is from Datastream by Scandroid.

Shang Tsung hooked his fingers into the wires, gently pulling on them. Kuai Liang groaned, almost like it actually caused him pain. According to The Lin Kuei, their androids weren’t supposed to be able to feel much. He supposed there could be some kind of sensation, not quite pain, but maybe a pressure that could be uncomfortable?

Then again, Kuai Liang wasn’t exactly one of The Lin Kuei’s regular androids.

“Alright darling, I know this is uncomfortable,” he cooed, still tugging on the wires. He needed to remove them so he could replace them. He really hoped that the glitches Kuai Liang was experiencing would be remedied by this. Tsung really did not want to have to delve into the matrix that made up Kuai Liang’s synthetic brain. “The sooner I can get these wires out, the sooner we’ll be done.”

“I- I- I- Wi-Wish to be-be-be Pro-Process-cess-cessed,” Kuai’s garbled voice demanded. If messing with the wires could at least fix these issues with his voice, that would be a small victory. At least he’d be able to have a better and more in depth conversation than the android was currently capable of.

“I’m sorry Darling, I am not authorised to do that.” And quite frankly, Shang Tsung wasn’t about to piss off The Lin Kuei’s CEO, Bi-Han, by going against his direct orders. Kuai Liang was to be fixed up, and sent back to Bi-Han’s side. If that was really in the android's best interest was completely irrelevant.

“I-I-I-I-” If Kuai actually had more or something different to say, Tsung wouldn’t know about it, as he seemingly got stuck at the first hurdle.

He ignored the seeming complaint, continuing to loosen and remove wires. They were badly damaged, much like the rest of Kuai Liang. Tsung wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to the android. The thought that Bi-Han had lost his temper and had taken it out on his personal assistant robot did come to mind. But Bi-Han seemed weirdly attached to the robot, distraught about the state Kuai was in. That didn’t make sense if he was the one to do it.

Shang Tsung grabbed the new wires, carefully hooking them up and on occasion soldering them into place. Eventually, the wires were all in place, and Tsung heard a very loud clicking sound, Kuai’s eyes glowing slightly before they settled down.

Kuai made direct eye contact with Tsung, as clear as day, he requested “I wish to be processed.”

“Hello Darling,” Tsung said gently, wearing a relieved smile on his face. Thank the gods, I did it. Maybe Kuai Liang wasn’t as beyond repair as he had initially thought. “Does it feel better to be able to speak properly again?”

“I wish to be processed,” Kuai replied, and Shang Tsung couldn’t help but frown at that. It seemed, despite his efforts, the android wasn’t all that grateful. He was essentially requesting to be killed.

Shang Tsung never realised androids could be suicidal, but he supposed you learnt something new every day.

“Again, darling, I’m sorry but I am not allowed to do that.” He started to look at the rest of Kuai’s body. He still needed to replace the broken right arm and leg, fix the cracking across his body and possibly figure out what was going on with his left hand since it seemed to be constantly balled into a fist. “Mr. Song wants you back by his side and I intend to do that.”

“Mr. Song?” Kuai whispered, almost like he was trying to remember something. “Bi-Han?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Maybe knowing his master wanted him back would be enough to cut off those pleas for death. “He asked me to fix you, so you can be returned to him. You want that, don’t you?”

Kuai Liang was silent for a moment, before quietly saying “I wish to be processed.”

Ah. Maybe Bi-Han really did do this? If he was reluctant to be returned to the man.

“Don’t be like that.” He took hold of Kuai’s ruined arm, looking it over. It was a twisted mess of metal, some of it looked like it had melted. He’d hoped that maybe there was something he could salvage from it. As he looked closer, there just wasn’t any chance. He’d have to lop it off and then rebuild it. “Mr. Song seems to care for you very deeply. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to have you working again.”

“Bi-Han won’t let me die,” Kuai flatly stated and Tsung felt himself pause at that, staring at the android.

“What do you mean?” It almost sounded like he spoke from experience. “Has something like this happened to you before Kuai Liang?”

“There is an error with my brain.” That came out of nowhere and yet Tsung somehow got the hint. Kuai Liang wanted Tsung to look at his brain for some reason. Well, whatever, if it was so important, Tsung supposed it might explain what was wrong with the android.

He looped around, finding the two little indents to open up Kuai’s head. He clicked them, watching as it came apart as he sighed, prepared to see whatever secrets lay within the wires and circuit boards.

Except. What he saw was no wire and circuit.

No. What he saw was a brain. 

A human brain.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he stood in stunned silence, staring at the pink fleshy organ in front of him. However long it was, he eventually reached forward for the indents, clicking them again, and watching it disappear behind the panels once more. He wandered back around standing beside Kuai Liang. He started into the android’s eyes.

… The cyborg's eyes?

What the fuck was Kuai Liang?

“Who are you?” He questioned. The brain had to belong to someone. And whoever that person was, he figured it would explain a lot here.

“Song Kuai Liang,” Kuai answered, and really Tsung could have guessed the Song bit but it still didn’t explain everything.

“And your relation to Song Bi-Han?”

“He’s my elder brother.”

Elder brother? That explained Bi-Han’s weird attachment towards Kuai Liang. Although honestly it kind of made the entire thing even creepier than he’d initially believed. He thought Bi-Han was just one of those strange people who pack bonds with anything. But knowing this robot was not only based on his younger brother, but also potentially had his brain?

Bi-Han won’t let me die.

That was what Kuai Liang had said wasn’t it? So, something happened to Kuai Liang, the real human Kuai Liang. He assumed something that could have eventually led to death, rather than life altering injury, if Kuai’s claim of not being allowed to die was anything to go by. Bi-Han unable to accept his younger brother’s potential death, commissioned this robot Kuai Liang, using the real Kuai’s brain to try and make him as close to the real one as possible. 

“I wish to be processed,” Kuai said again, this time his voice sounding desperate. Like he finally just wanted his suffering to end. The worst thing was Tsung understood both brother’s motives, and why each wanted what they did.

And unfortunately for Kuai Liang, only one of those motives was giving Shang Tsung a fuck ton of money.

“How about I finish fixing you up?” Tsung replied diplomatically, but not missing the disappointed whine Kuai made. “I’ll make you feel better, make sure everything is working. If you still wish to be processed when I’m done, well, you can talk with Bi-Han about that.”

Kuai Liang stared at him silently, before almost making a point of looking away, to stare up at the ceiling. So, it seemed Kuai was going to hold a grudge over this. Great. Trust him to get stuck with the one android capable of being a bit of a brat.

Although, maybe he should give Kuai Liang some grace. Despite his human brain, and all the quirks that came with that, he did still seem to be bound by his robotic side. That must have felt like being a prisoner in your own mind, knowing what you wanted but unable to do any of it.

Actually now that he thought about it, Kuai’s existence was horrific, and even with his own questionable morals, he could admit this situation was beyond fucked up.

“Anyway, darling,” Shang Tsung decided to say, ignoring the sudden moral compass he was developing. “Let’s get your arm fixed, shall we?”

Kuai Liang didn’t reply, but Tsung supposed for now he’d let the android sulk. After all, he kind of had the right to be upset.

Maybe he’d get the full story later, when he managed to corner Bi-Han later and demand an explanation.

[galvanizedfriend]

Fic: We'll Always Have New Orleans [2/15]

Summary: Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

--

Chapter 2: The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness

Theory number 378: it's all a joke.

A bad joke. An extremely unfunny one. The world's worst joke ever.

Somewhere out there, there's an asshole cracking up right now, Caroline can feel it. This can’t be random. It can't just be an unfortunate coincidence. Things like this don’t just happen by chance. Not in Mystic Falls.

If she had been alone, or if there was anyone else here, then she could believe this was a wrong place, wrong time kind of situation. It wasn't directed at her, she just happened to be the unlucky one to get caught up in a nasty glitch in the supernatural matrix and sucked into this simulation from hell.

But she's not alone, and she’s not with just anyone either. Of all the people in the world, she had to get stuck in this weird history-altering, memory-removing, magic wipe-out of a world with Klaus Mikaelson.

There's no way this was an accident. It has to be the deliberate action of someone with a very twisted sense of humor.

The one thing Caroline is certain of is that whoever is behind this knew exactly what they were doing, and picked the two of them for a reason. For the life of her, she can't fathom what that reason could be other than dark enjoyment, but it exists, and now all she and Klaus have to do is figure out how to work together to find out why. And then how they can put a stop to it.

How hard can it be?

Read the full chapter here

--

What? Two fics updated in one week? Who tf am I? ✨

Sorry about the delay, kids! Life's hard, work's busy, I hate my writing, etc, etc. As always, reblogs, comments, kudos, messages, pigeons, anything is welcome!

Also, sorry not sorry for any medical misconceptions, I don't really care, it's art 🤌 just let it roll.