#a terrified damaged scientist and the people who love them. who help them beat the odds of the world and their own mind

[buckpaws]

when MF DOOM said theres only 1 beer left

[moonlit-imagines]

The Doctor Is Out

Stephen Strange x reader

warnings:

a/n: wrote this a while ago and its been sitting in my drafts. part 1/2

prompt:

In (2)

Without opening your eyes, you stretched your stiffened body against the silk sheets and rolled over to face your husband.

“Good morning, dear.” You whispered through a yawn, which led into a smile. Stephen was already awake and reading one of the many books he kept at his bedside.

“And good morning to you, too.” He leaned over and gave you a kiss on the temple, letting your eyes flutter open. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’d say so.” You reluctantly sat up on your side of the bed, pushing the covers away. “Any plans for today?”

“Not in particular.” Stephen decided to get out of bed with you and get ready for the day, although he was in a gray jacket and blue jeans in the blink of an eye. “We don’t have very much to eat, I might go run out for lunch.”

“Lunch?” You asked as you pulled on a pair of pants.

“Yes, well, you seem to have gotten a late start on the day.” Your husband explained. “I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so content with your dreams.” You took Stephen’s wrist to take a look at the time.

“It’s half past eleven?” You stared in shock at your husband’s watch. “You just waited for me?” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Stephen rarely ever let himself lag behind, it was truly sweet of him to keep you company while you drifted through the peace of your head, thoughts you’d already forgotten. “It seems the odds were in our favor when our paths first crossed, huh?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, my dear.” Stephen’s barely shaking hands cupped your face and right before he leaned in for a refreshing kiss to the lips, he whispered, “I’m not as great a man as you make me out to be.”

You hummed into the kiss he gave you and pulled back just a tad. “Oh, you’re right. You’re just the worst.” Sarcasm failed to escape you in moments like these, it was more entertaining than anything else in the eyes of your husband. “Now, I’m starving. Want to go to the deli around the block?”

“That’ll work. We should ask Wong if he’s hungry, too.”

—————

“You don’t have any money?” Stephen asked as the three of you walked through the Sanctum in a fixed line.

“Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual.” Wong’s wise words rung in your mind as you tried to figure out what he did before the two of you had moved in with him.

“I’ll tell the guys at the deli.” Stephen snarked. “Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye.”

“It’s fine, we’ll pay for your lunch.” You interjected after hearing enough of that. Somehow, the trip down the stairs was unsuccessful since your steps from only a few seconds ago were nothing but rubble. You fell to the floor as Stephen and Wong took defensive positions.

“Thanos is coming.” An unfamiliar voice spoke as you lay on the cold floor. Were you able to get up on your own? Probably, but that fall would definitely leave a mark. After a moment’s time of your lonely visit with the floor, your partner rushed over to you.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” He crouched beside you and helped you back up, lightly brushing your cheek as he checked for any injuries.

“I think I’m okay.” You nodded. “Hit my head on the way down.” Peering over his shoulder while he checked your head for any bumps, you saw Dr. Bruce Banner crawl from the rubble. “Do I have a concussion or was it a gamma scientist that just crashed into the Sanctum?”

“Hi, I’m Doctor—” He waved just before you cut him off.

“I know who you are, Doctor Banner.” You replied with a smirk. “I’m Dr. L/N-Strange, specializing in neuroscience, but formerly gamma research.” Stephen smiled himself when he heard you say your name and just a little more when you described your profession. Maybe he was just proud to be near someone so accomplished.

“I don’t think you have a concussion.” A kiss on your forehead was the best medicine he could give, but you knew that it also meant he needed to get to work.

“‘Formerly gamma?’ Why’s that?” Bruce asked, somehow ignoring the big picture here. I mean, you were just happy to get some visitors, I suppose. You’d answer anything.

“For a while, they went hand-in-hand for me. You’d be surprised at what could be accomplished when you put them together...” You explained, Stephen patiently listening beside you.

“But?” Bruce pried a little more.

“But then I heard about your little ‘accident,’ decided to take a break just in case. Refocus my research.” You felt your partner’s hand rest on your shoulder and slide down your arm as you watched Dr. Banner’s guilty expression surface. It wasn’t your intention to offend, you were just obliging to his curiosity.

“As much as I love hearing you talk about your career, darling,” Stephen finally stepped in, “I think we need to talk about the threat to our planet?”

“I was wondering when you’d stop me.” You chuckled. “That’s alright, I’ll just go pick up lunch for you three. Dr. Banner, do you like sandwiches?”

“I...yes? I guess so. Turkey and swiss is...I haven’t had that in a while.” He stammered, leaving you to peer over at your husband and have him give you a near-identical look. Sometimes, the two of you just thought that same exact things, no words needed.

“Will you two stop doing that weird thing where you stare at each other in silence? We have work to do!” Wong interrupted and you decided it was about time to head out.

“Love you, Stephen.” You said with an amused shake of your head, giving him a quick peck in the lips.

“Love you, too. Don’t be too long if you can help it, Dr. Banner seems to have a pretty good idea of dangers to come.” He told you as his cloak gave you a quick pat on the arm. You didn’t know whether to say goodbye to his outerwear, as well.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You winked and pat the red cloak back, heading for the door that your bag was hung beside. Now was the time for a walk to clear your mind, no “Thanos” or whatever the hell that was. Just the music to your ears that was Bleeker Street traffic and insufferable pedestrians. You just kept your eyes front and went on walking, you’d walk straight through crowds if you had to.

A few block’s worth of steps and you’d reached the deli that was so dear to your husband, now it was time to wait in line, a pretty long one, nonetheless. Maybe it was time to shoot Stephen a text.

Just made it to the deli ;) Anything I should be worried about out here?

Tony Stark is here. Outlook not so good.

Did you just magic 8-ball me?

“Dude, are you texting right now?” Tony asked in disbelief of the wizard looking down at his phone. It wasn’t very typical of him to check it in times like these, but you had a specific ringtone. Once he hears that ringtone, he replies. No matter what.

“I always answer my s/o.” He cleared his throat and stashed his phone away.

“At least we have something in common.”

—————

The line at the deli took so long that you got caught in the crossfire of an alien attack. Was it unbelievably amazing? Of course. Was it one of the most terrifying days of your life? You bet.

You could no longer get ahold of your husband and you soon knew why when he flew overhead in an attempt of offense. You’re guessing that these people were looking for the Time Stone.

Desperately hoping for one of your wizard “pals” to come and save you, maybe have you fall through a portal and back into Sanctum, you just hid in an alley. This may be one of the lows in your life, but you’d see worse days soon enough.

And the invasion was over just like that. You, like many other New Yorkers, stepped from the crevices of the streets to witness the damage firsthand.

“Uh, Dr. L/N!” That same voice from earlier spoke, causing you to swivel your head and see Bruce waving you down. Since he was the first person you recognized out here, it’d be best for you to head his way. It was a maze of cars, bricks, and broken glass before you’d made it over to him.

“Where’s Stephen? Or Wong? Tony Stark?” You bombarded him as if he weren’t stressed enough, but scientists always wanted answers. He knew that from experience.

“The aliens have your husband.” A line you never thought you’d have to hear. This better be a sick dream. “Wong said he was going back to the ‘Sanctum’ to protect it, and Tony is also with the aliens.”

“At least my husband has backup.” You sighed with a slight hint of relief, but your stomach was still turning just thinking about what they might do to Stephen. If they wanted that Stone, they’d do whatever they could to get it. Stephen was as smart as he was stubborn, it’d take a lot to get him to hand it over.

“Are you going back home?” He asked as he snagged a phone from the rubble.

“I figure you have a plan, I’m coming with you.” You watched him freeze for a moment with a name on the phone highlighted. “Trying to reassemble the Avengers, huh?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s going to be dangerous.” Way to state the obvious. You didn’t know if you could handle it, but...

“I have to get my husband back, I can’t just wait around.” You wouldn’t back down, but it was a little comforting to have someone backing him up. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to put myself to good use.”

—————

It has been...twenty days since the disappearance of several Earth-based heroes. Among them was Spider-Man, Tony Stark, and your husband. But today was the day you’d know the truth.

Half the population had vanished into thin air. It was hard to tell if anyone had survived the trip to space. You’d been staring out the window all day, just trying to spot the cosmic wonder that was “Captain Marvel.” If anyone could find them, it was her.

Just as you were about to nod off, a bright glare intruded in the sky.

“Guy? Guys! She’s back!” Everyone had been on edge today, so they were ready to dash outside. Your heart was beating out of your chest, this was the moment of truth.

Carol landed a beat-up spaceship onto the open field and out stumbled Tony Stark and what looked to be an alien. You stared at the ship’s door, waiting for one more person. Just one more.

Everyone was staring at you now, waiting for you to realize that your husband wasn’t in there. Once Tony caught sight of you, he pieced together who you were.

“You must be the wizard’s s/o?” He leaned against his fiancée and Captain America, struggling to look you in the eye. “He wanted me to give you a message. Uh...sorry, I’m going blank, rough ride.” He rubbed his forehead as you stood there in tears. “‘This will make sense later.’ Oh, and he loves you.”

“I...” Everyone was still looking at you with pity in their eyes. Yes, they all lost people, but you were still clinging onto hope. All of your optimism had been destroyed in these past few moments, you didn’t even know how you were supposed to take this. “I need a minute. I’m sorry.” You stormed off into the guest bedroom of Avengers HQ, leaving everyone around you worried. You didn’t know them long, but it was easy to bond through a trauma like this.

“Y/N?” Bruce knocked on the door. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” You reluctantly answered and Bruce let himself in.

“I brought you carrots.” He offered the bowl. “It was all we had in the fridge, sorry.”

“We have to find Thanos.” You grumbled though tears. “I won’t give up until we fix what he did.” Bruce stayed silent out of fear, he knew what could happen to someone in mourning. People can get...crazy.

“We’ll do the best we can. We’re working on it.” Bruce explained as he set the food down on your end table.

“Take me with you. I have to be there this time.” You were in no way qualified to face an intergalactic being capable of that much destruction.

“Y/N, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He shyly countered you, using this calm tone was an exercise he learned during “anger management,” maybe it could help.

“I wasn’t asking.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys // @ghost-bich // @wonderful-writer // @of-a-chaotic-mind // @groovyfluxie // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @blizzardbabe // @agentshortstacc // @rosadiaz-sarayvargas-harleyquinn //

[grey-water-colors]

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

[retrievablememories]

a strange love | yuta (m)

title: a strange love pairing: alien!yuta x black!reader genre: sci-fi/fantasy, fluff, angst, smut request: “I read a good chunk of your NCT work and really liked them. Would I be able to request a fic where a black female reader meets an alien (can be Yuta or Jungwoo) and they're both coming to terms that they're attracted to each other and have to come to terms with being attracted to someone of a different species? Can be smutty and don't be afraid to give the alien a less human biology if you don't mind.” word count: 13.1k warnings: alcohol use, cursing, near drowning experience, lots of mentions of water so this one might not mesh well with people w/ aquaphobia, non-human biology/body horror, extraterrestrial sex, lots of cum, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle dick, unprotected sex, creampie, please heed the warnings because this is an alien smutfic lmao a/n: giving the shape of water teas. i’ve actually never seen that movie 😕 but i will at some point. forgive me in advance for the nerdy references in here.

It’s funny how things happen when you least expect it. You never would’ve thought you’d be sound asleep when your entire world changed.

The night the UFO crashes in your city, you’re awoken by the tremors of its landing. The vibrations feel akin to an earthquake, and they make picture frames and other trinkets fall off your shelves and hit the floor in a clatter of noise. You jump up from your pillow at the racket, your heart pounding. You glance at the things lying on your floor and quickly register that the room—your entire home—is trembling.

There’s not much you can do at this point but ride it out, so you huddle down in your covers and hope the roof doesn’t cave in on your head. To your knowledge, your particular area isn’t known for earthquakes, which makes all of this even stranger. What could be causing one now? Is the world finally ending?

Eventually, the tremors stop. By now, your shelves have been emptied of nearly all their contents, but you’re still alive, which you’re grateful for. You wait a few more minutes to see if the shakes will begin again, but they don’t, so you climb out from the warmth of your covers to clean up your floor.

Police and ambulance sirens start blaring through the city not long after you get out of bed. That’s nothing unusual; there are usually injuries and casualties with natural disasters like these, and you expect many poor souls will be needing rescue tonight. You sigh and look at your closed blinds, watching them be sporadically illuminated by the lights of the emergency vehicles rushing past.

Once you’ve cleaned up your room and gotten back in bed, you think about checking social media for what people have been saying about the quake. There’s no doubt that the city’s residents have taken to Twitter and Instagram to document it. However, your eyelids are already starting to droop, and you’d probably fall asleep in the middle of scrolling, so you decide to tuck in and wait until morning.

Waking up the next day almost seems like a normal Sunday until you look at your blinds again and are suddenly reminded of last night’s flashing lights. Right. The earthquake. Throwing the covers back, you stumble out of bed to turn on your TV. You flip through the channels until you find a news station for your local area. You go to open the blinds, keeping your ears open for reports on the earthquake.

“Last night, we experienced unprecedented seismic activity throughout the majority of the city, caused by what appears to be an unidentified flying object, otherwise known as a UFO—”

Huh?

You turn to the TV, thinking this must be some kind of ridiculous hoax. You get ready to reach for the remote, thinking you must have turned it to one of those parody news channels by accident, but you freeze at what you see. Video footage of the city center—or what used to be the city center—plays on the screen. In place of the large historical monument that used to stand there, there’s a huge...silver and black spaceship. Or at least you think it’s a ship. It apparently sustained major damage in the landing, and now it looks more like a hunk of melted metal. The area around it has been blasted clear in every direction. Instead of green grass and pavement, there’s nothing but dirt.

The area is blocked off with yellow tape, though hundreds of people have gathered at the location to check out the object and take pictures and videos of it.

“What the fuck…” you whisper to yourself.

“We’re currently unsure where this UFO originated from, though we can confirm that it is not affiliated with any aircraft fleets owned by the U.S. military. Researchers and scientists from top universities across the country are being called in to assist in identifying this craft…”

“There’s no just way,” you mutter, grabbing your shower cap and pulling clothes out of your closet for your morning shower. “A UFO...guess that alien invasion is coming sooner than we thought.” You would like to believe it’s all just someone playing a terrible prank, but pulling off this level of theatrics is impossible.

After you get out of the shower and start making breakfast for yourself, you get a text from one of your coworkers, Alex.

10:30 A.M. Alex🍸 You seeing this shit on the news right now?

10:31 A.M. Obviously! It’s fucking wild. Do you really think it’s true? OR some elaborate government hoax? Anything’s possible. I’m betting “true,” but...

10:33 A.M. Alex🍸 I honestly don’t know. that’s why me and some of the others from work are about to head over there now. Wanna come?

10:34 A.M. The hell! I’ll pass. There could be all types of radiation n shit, I’m not tryna turn into the Green Lantern or the Hulk or somebody.

10:35 A.M. Alex🍸 lmFAO. Suit ypurself. If I gain superpowers don’t be surprised if I fly over to your house today.

10:35 A.M. You’re a mess. 💀

You spend breakfast watching more news reports and scrolling through Twitter feeds for firsthand information. People who visited the site, including your coworkers, have uploaded pictures of the UFO from various angles, inciting a frenzy of conspiracy theories and warnings that the world is about to end.

You don’t know what to make of the situation, but it stays on your mind throughout the day as you leave the house and go about completing your usual errands. The city center has been blocked off to all vehicles other than those belonging to people who’ve been called in to help, which means that traffic is sky-high everywhere else—even for a Sunday.

Sitting in a mishmash of cars, you roll down your window and sigh, looking out at the red traffic lights, and beyond that to the horizon. Things are about to get very weird for the next few weeks. Maybe months. You can only hope you’re prepared for it.

You don’t know why, but the air seems strange tonight.

It’s been 2 days since the UFO crashed. There haven’t been many more answers apart from what everyone already knows due to the ship’s destroyed state. The city has professionals out for that sort of thing, but they’re taking their sweet time analyzing the ship—though you can’t really blame them. Jumping straight into unknown alien tech seems like a death wish.

Your life has been pretty much the same as usual, though you know a few people at work who have been more directly affected by the events. One girl, Sooyoung, who lives in the neighborhood near the crash site claims the officials are thinking about having that entire area evacuate, though you don’t know why they’re beating around the bush about it if it’s true. Whatever radiation or chemicals they’re worried about has probably already leached into all the surrounding homes, and now you’re just waiting for someone to walk into your workplace with antlers or purple skin.

Admittedly, you’re morbidly curious about the case and what all of this could mean for Earth’s future, but you keep your fascination lowkey. You don’t need any of your coworkers thinking you’re the next alien-obsessed Mulder from X-Files. But then again, you’re not curious enough to visit the actual scene, so maybe you’re not the crazy one here.

You feel fine when you get home from work that day, but as you get washed up and settle into your usual evening routine, you can’t shake the eeriness gripping your subconscious. It’s not necessarily a bad feeling, either, just...foreign. Like an emotion you’ve never felt before, though you didn’t know there were even still new emotions to discover. Shaking your head, you figure maybe you should lay off the alien stuff for the rest of the week.

Before you head to bed that night, you go around the house making sure all the doors and windows are locked as you normally do. You pause at the backdoor for a reason you can’t explain, and the strange feeling grows stronger. At this point, you’re a bit frightened about what this is all about, but you can’t go to sleep without knowing. Curiosity takes over as you open the blinds and stare into the darkness of your backyard.

You don’t see anything right away. There are trees, bushes, your potted plants, and lawn chairs...everything looks normal. It’s only when you lean closer to the glass to squint that you see a figure lying in the grass. You jump once you catch sight of it, terrified that some monster or murderer has found their way onto your property. There was nothing there earlier when you closed the blinds, so whoever or whatever it is must’ve recently showed up.

You’re about ready to dial 911 when you realize the figure is curled in the fetal position and unmoving...almost like they’re unconscious. Or dead.

This is ridiculous. You feel like one of those people who always dies first in the horror movies because they went into the room the killer was obviously hiding in, but you’re overcome with the strong impulse to step outside. You grip the doorknob tightly, debating whether you should unlock it or not.

“...Fuck. Don’t let me regret this.”

You open the door with your phone in hand, the device serving as your flashlight. There’s still the screen door to get through, which you pause at for a moment. The figure remains unmoving even with the sound of the door opening.

“Hello?!” You call out to the individual, but there’s no response. Your phone’s light can’t reach them from there, which forces you to open the screen door and step out onto the porch. They’re still feet away, but from this closer distance, it seems like they’re wearing a sort of armor or full-body suit...maybe like a cosplay?

“Hope this isn’t some weirdo weeb passed out on my lawn…” you mutter, cautiously stepping onto the grass. As you approach, you can see now that the figure is likely male, though their back is to you so you can’t be totally sure. “Um, hello there? Can you hear me?” No response.

By now, you are only a few feet away from them. The person looks to be an Asian guy, with long blonde hair haloing his face. His features are angular and smooth, and he is indeed wearing some kind of body armor, its color unlike anything you’ve seen. Instead of being all one hue or even a few, it reflects the light from your phone and glows with a rainbow-like phosphorescence. The material itself looks translucent, but you can’t see through it; it creates a mind-bending optical illusion.

Your stomach suddenly drops to your feet. Is this who was in that UFO in the city center? It seems too out-there to be true, but your intuition is telling you otherwise. This can’t be fucking real.

You kneel on the wet grass next to the man and try to look for signs of life. You can hear his breathing, so he’s thankfully not dead. But he doesn’t look to be in good shape, either. He definitely won’t be able to get up on his own; he probably used the last of his energy to drag himself into your yard.

“Damn.” You turn the flashlight off and slip your phone into your sweatpants pocket. It seems like there’s no other options right now. You could call the police, but they’d probably accuse you of being in cahoots with this weird dude and drag you off to jail. Or they could cart him off for government experimentation, which sounds equally terrible. So with those things in mind, you gently maneuver his upper body until you’re able to hook your arms under his armpits and drag him towards your house.

You just really hope none of your nosy neighbors are seeing this right now.

He’s surprisingly light, and you get him inside the house fairly quickly. Once you’ve locked the door again, you pull him over to the living room so he’s propped against your couch. He still isn’t fully conscious, but his head and lips move as if he’s dreaming about something.

“What was that…?” You lean closer, trying to read his lips for some sort of clue. Surprisingly, you can make out the word water, which he mouths over and over again. “Water…” You run into the kitchen to pour a glass and bring it back to him, making sure not to spill any on the way over.

You press it to his lips, unsure if he’ll be able to drink, but to your amazement his muscles respond and he drinks quickly as you tip the glass. Soon, the water is all gone. You set the glass to the side with your palms sweating and watch as his face flutters even more. 

“Can you...hear me?”

His eyes open only slightly. This movement seems to cause him some pain, though you aren’t sure why. Maybe he has a headache since he was dehydrated? You scramble to turn the overhead light off, not wanting to make matters worse. He still doesn’t try to open his eyes any wider, though.

“Who are you? Were you...did you crash here?” You feel a little bad about asking so many questions, but you’re dying for answers as to what the hell is going on.

The man licks his lips, and his mouth parts like he’s going to answer. But his throat is still dry, and it hurts to talk.

“...Shit.” You get him another glass of water and let him drink until it’s gone again. He seems a little better after that.

“Th-this...” He clears his throat a couple times and tries again. “This is E-Earth, right?”

Now you’re the one lost for words. Although you already figured he couldn’t be from here, hearing it out loud makes your blood rush and your heart race. “Um, yes...this is Earth. Was...the UFO yours?”

He sighs, and his head falls back against the couch arm. “Yes.”

“It’s destroyed,” you say, and then feel silly about it. “But you already know that.” 

He doesn’t answer that. He just slowly glances around your living room instead, looking as if he’s never seen a stranger setup. The quietness is awkward, and you almost feel like he must be judging your taste for interior design. “Do you have a name?”

More silence. You decide he probably won’t answer until he finally says, “You can call me Yuta.”

“Yuta.” You tell him your name too, and he just nods, almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t say much without prompting, which makes it hard for you to know how to approach the situation. You don’t want to overwhelm him with questions, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to speak unless you do. “How did you end up here? I mean, in my—uh, my yard?”

Yuta shakes his head and then winces. “I crashed, and then...I just ran. The ship was melting. I just ran. I hid...I went from place to place, hiding. Don’t know how I got here.”

You wonder how he made it all the way from the city center to your home without being spotted, especially with that armor. You can only conclude that he must be stealth at hiding. Or maybe someone did spot him and the feds are about to bust down your door any minute. You take a shaky breath and try to push that anxious thought to the back of your mind.

Suddenly Yuta fixes you with a suspicious glare. “Will you reveal that I’m here?”

You try not to get offended, because you’d honestly be thinking the same if you were a newly-landed alien in a foreign land. “No. I don’t have any reason to do that. I just want to help. I’m not looking to be on anyone’s 6 o’clock news or cheap tabloid. You probably don’t believe me, but you can have my word for it...if that means anything to you.”

He’s quiet again, though you can tell he’s still skeptical.

“Um, do you need anything? More water?”

He sits up straighter at the mention of that. “Water.” You reach for the glass again, but he frowns. “Not that. I need…something more than that.” He looks around again, but when he doesn't see what he’s searching for, he attempts to stand only to slump down again.

“Slow down there, I don’t think you’re gonna make it like that. Can I help?”

You end up slinging his arm across your shoulder and letting him lean his body against you while you lead him to the bathroom. That’s the biggest source of water in the house, and you assume he must be wanting a bath or shower or something. Even aliens have their hygiene needs, you guess.

You turn the bathroom light on and have Yuta sit on the toilet lid as you turn the bathtub faucet. “Is...this what you meant?” He nods, and you put the plug in and let the tub fill up.

“Just water. Nothing else. I need to recharge,” he says, and before you can ask what he means by that, he starts undressing in front of you. 

At first, your reaction is delayed; you’re struck with surprise when you realize the armor isn’t actually a whole bodysuit, but more like...connected panels of material that can be taken off. You don’t understand the material at all, it doesn’t resemble anything on Earth you can think of—but of course, it’s alien tech. It conforms to his body as he’s wearing it but takes on a more rigid form once it’s peeled off, like actual armor.

Then, he gets ready to take the bottoms off and something finally clicks in your brain that oh my God he’s about to get naked in front of me.

“Whoa!” You spin around and cover your eyes for good measure, glad that your brown skin hides the way your face is burning right now. You step towards the open door. “Uh, I’ll just leave, sorry—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, what?”

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Yuta says, pulling the last of his suit off. He steps into the tub and sits down in it, putting his hands underneath the stream of water rushing out of the faucet. The skin on his hands seems to ripple, like it’s readjusting itself, and the hairs stand up on the back of your neck at that. You forget to be embarrassed at his unclothed state as you watch it happen.

“What’s going on with that? And why did you need the water?”

Yuta splashes his face before answering, and he turns to look at you, the droplets of water sliding off the ends of his hair. “I’m part of a Water Race. Water is my home. Our bodies have adapted to be built for living in water, and it’s dangerous to be without it for too long.”

“Adaptation? But you look like a regular human.”

“It’s just a skin.”

“A skin?” You echo in horror, a sudden flashback to Silence of the Lambs popping into your mind. “Someone else’s skin?” 

Yuta gives you a look that seems to say he can’t believe you’re asking such a stupid question. “No, it’s my skin. It’s just not my natural form.” To prove his point, he holds his hand out, and right before your eyes his human skin pulls back and morphs into something much more scaly and green. His fingers are actually more like talons, with long black nails on the ends, and there’s translucent webbing between each one.

You gasp and step back, trying to catch your breath at the sight of something so very not human. The skin reforms around his hand—you assume he has to be willing it with his mind somehow, because he doesn’t even move—and his digits look just as human as ever.

“How the hell do you hide your nails under there? Isn’t it just like...wearing a bodysuit?”

Yuta shakes his head. “No. Once the skin is on, it becomes...part of me. My hand becomes a human hand. I’m not hiding anything, it just is. It’s hard to explain.”

“Have you been to Earth before? Is that why you have a human skin, because...adaptation or some shit? This is all so wild.”

“I can shift into different skins if I want, if I gather enough genetic information on certain species’ inhabitants...but there are limitations.” That doesn’t exactly answer your question, but you figure maybe it’s best if you didn’t know. You can at least assume he’s been in contact with humans before.

“I see…” You fidget for a few seconds before speaking what’s on your mind. “Okay, one last thing...you said there are limitations. Does that mean you can’t transform into, like...a dung beetle or something?”

Yuta gives you another are you serious look and you put your hands up. “Just wondering. It was worth a try.”

You feel awkward just standing there, and you feel like maybe you should give him some privacy even if he doesn’t care much, so you leave the bathroom to find something for him to wear.

You’re not sure if you’ll find anything that fits him, so you end up settling on a light pink bathrobe and decide he’ll have to work with that for now. You slip back into the bathroom to leave it on the sink, averting your eyes from his nude form in your bathtub. “Um, here’s something to wear...not sure if anything else will fit, this is all I have for now. Sorry.” You don’t wait for him to respond— he probably won’t anyway—before slipping back out.

It’s nearing 1 A.M. at this point, which is late considering you still have work tomorrow. You sigh and curl yourself up on the couch, hoping you won’t have to stay up for very much longer.

You’re not sure when you drifted off or how long you were out, but you wake up to the sound of footsteps and see Yuta coming out of the bathroom wearing the robe you’ve given him. You have to laugh a little at the sight of him in the light pink material, though you think it suits him in a way.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need some clothes.”

Yuta raises his eyebrow. “I still have my suit.”

“Yeah, but...don’t you want something else to wear? Your ship is pretty much gone, so you’ll probably be on Earth for a while...and if you don’t want anyone realizing you’re not from here, you’ll have to wear regular clothes.”

Yuta visibly upsets at the idea of his ship’s destroyed state, even though he knows there’s not much he can do about it. “I guess. I shared which planet I was heading to before I left, but...Earth is a very big place. And my trackers were destroyed with my ship, so…”

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know how much comfort that can be. “We can look for some clothes tomorrow. It’s probably better for you not to leave the house right now, but...that’s what online shopping is for.”

“Online shopping…?” Yuta seems puzzled by the concept, but he doesn’t ask any further. Then he looks around the room again. “Is there somewhere I can rest?”

“Oh, yeah, follow me.” You get up from the couch to head upstairs where the guest bedroom is. The house isn’t huge—it was your grandmother’s before she passed it on to you—but it’s more than enough for you alone, and it should fit one more just fine. You open the door and turn on the light, illuminating the small room. “It hasn’t been used in a while, so excuse any dust. I can fix that tomorrow, but it’s getting late...” you stifle a yawn, “...so we should probably go to sleep now.”

Yuta looks at you and nods. 

“Um, well...goodnight.” You wave at him from the doorway before closing it.

As you make your way down the stairs, a sudden weariness and apprehension comes over you. An alien in your home? Escaped from a recently crashed UFO? Wearing one of your bathrobes? You’re almost positive you haven’t thought this through deeply enough, but you’re in it now. Might as well see where the rabbit hole leads to.

The next morning, you prepare yourself to go to work like you usually do. For a while, the house is so quiet that you almost forget Yuta is there until you see him standing in the kitchen entryway, still wearing his pink robe, and you almost jump through the ceiling.

“Jesus, you came out of nowhere,” you gasp, holding your heart.

“Where are you going?” Yuta asks. He steps into the kitchen and tentatively sits down in one of the dining table chairs.

“To work,” you say, and then pause. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to leave a freshly-landed alien at home alone. “Will you be okay here by yourself? I could come over on my lunch break…”

“What am I supposed to do here the whole time?” Yuta asks, sounding displeased at the thought of being abandoned for hours.

“Well...you could watch TV? There’s the on-demand channel...the fridge is available for you too, just try not to clean out my—wait, do you even eat human food?”

Yuta shrugs, crossing his arms. “Not really. It’s not a big source of nutrients for us.” 

You nod awkwardly. “Huh. Well, that’s...interesting.” The stress of the situation is already making your head pound and you haven’t even left for work yet. “Uh, yeah—I think I’ll just come over later and check in...come on, I’ll at least show you how to work the remote before I leave.”

You bid Yuta goodbye once you’re about to go, though you feel more than a little hesitant about leaving him there. There isn’t much other choice, though; you can’t afford to take a day off on such short notice.

The extraterrestrial sighs, sprawling across the couch and looking at the ceiling. The TV is already playing the channel you left it on, and Yuta turns to the screen and watches as a group of humans make weird food dishes he’s never seen before.

“This is stupid.”

The rest of the week with Yuta manages to be an adventure even though he never steps foot outside the house. 

Yuta doesn’t take a liking to human food, which means he opts for spending most of his time in the guest bathtub instead, claiming that the water gives him more nourishment than meals can. You don’t know how true that is, but you’re not going to fight him on it. Less food you have to prepare, you reason...although you often end up making extra anyway and getting him to try a few bites. It feels odd to not see him eat.

Living with someone from outer space is not really as weird as you expected it might be, which surprises you. Yuta stays in his human skin whenever he’s around you, and you steer clear of the guest bathroom when it’s occupied lest you walk in on something crazy. 

You’ve taught Yuta about new concepts he didn’t know before or wasn’t overly familiar with. He’s particularly intrigued with online shopping, and you ended up buying him a bunch of outfits that you both thought he’d look nice in. He doesn’t seem to be big on technology, which surprises you considering how advanced his UFO looked even its ruined state, but maybe human tech is more primitive than what he’s used to. He’s quite fascinated with the microwave, though, and how it can heat anything up in minutes.

With you uncovering new bits of information each day, you continually wonder how different his homeworld must be from the Earth. You can’t pull much out of him about it, for whatever reasons he has for keeping the information close, but you try to let him talk about it at his pace without pressuring him.

You could probably get used to living like this. 

Maybe not your wallet, though. You’re definitely not loving how your water bill is going to look once it comes in the mail.

None of your coworkers or neighbors know—not that it’s any of their business anyway. You don’t know how long Yuta is going to stay, or what the hell you’re going to do when his people finally catch wind of his whereabouts and land a UFO in your backyard, but you figure you’ll get to that part when it comes.

On one Saturday morning, you wake up to the sound of tapping on your door. You try to ignore it, thinking it’s just some woodpecker setting up shop outside your window, but you’re proven wrong when the door swings open.

You pull the covers away from your face for a moment to see Yuta standing there looking at you. You stare at him for a few seconds before sighing.

“Why are you up so early? It’s the weekend,” you groan, pulling the covers back over your head. 

“Why do you sleep so late?” Yuta retorts, still standing in your doorway. You don’t know whether he expects you to get up and do a trick, but it’s not happening. You peel the blanket away so it’s just below your eyes and look at him.

“What?”

“It’s not fun being here alone all day, you know,” he says, crossing his arms.

“So...what? Do you want me to play with you or something?” You can’t stop your sudden laugh, but you feel bad about once it’s out. He has just lost his ride home and has no foreseeable way back until someone notices his absence. Plus, needing to stay hidden and cooped up like a criminal can’t be enjoyable.

Yuta rolls his eyes at your response and starts down the hallway again, but you jump out of the bed and follow him. “Wait, Yuta, I’m sorry. That was stupid. I know it can’t be easy living like this. I’m not sure if I can make it better, but I’m willing to try.”

Yuta pauses in the hall and turns back to look at you. “I’m tired of being in here all the time....no offense. But there’s only so much I can take. I know I’m supposed to be in hiding, but it’s not like anyone can tell the difference. Even you couldn’t. Can’t we go out for one day?”

You think about it for a moment and figure he’s right. You both were trying to be overly cautious at first, but there’s no real way anyone would notice anything unless he shifted. “I guess we could...as long as we don’t go anywhere with a lot of water.”

“I have more self-control than that,” Yuta scoffs, though his words trail off as he’s already heading back to his room to get dressed.

You and Yuta walk around downtown for a little while, although you can’t shake the lingering nervousness you feel. You both decided not to head back to the city center any time soon; there’s not much left of the broken ship anyway, with scientists carting off pieces of it for research. Just as you thought. It’s too big to transport all at once, but you’re sure the remaining parts will be gone within the next couple weeks.

Yuta is continually surprised by how many new and unfamiliar things he spots along the way—things he actually gets to see up close and in detail. Kinda hard to focus when you’re running and hiding for your life.

Eventually, Yuta slows down as you walk past a small and colorful restaurant. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing up at the sign. You stop to turn around and see what he’s gesturing to.

“That’s just a hamburger joint...you won’t wanna go in there,” you say, raising your eyebrows. Because you don’t eat food. Despite that, Yuta still seems curious about the restaurant and he hesitates to walk away. Realizing that you aren’t going to get anywhere, you go to stand next to him and peer inside. There are a few people already inside, sitting at scattered tables and eating their food. “Do you want to go in, or…? ‘Cause you have to eat something if we do. This is your idea.”

“I’ll eat, let’s just go,” Yuta says, grasping your hand and pulling you into the restaurant.

You wave at the person behind the counter who greets you as you walk in, while Yuta is busy scanning every inch of the place. You let him look over the menu for a little while, but with so many options available he isn’t sure what to get—especially when he’s not sure if he’ll like any of them—so you end up picking for the both of you.

When you finally get your food, you take it to one of the tables. You watch attentively as Yuta takes the first bite of his hamburger, and you try to stifle your giggles as you watch his face go from nonchalance to bewilderment to shock.

“This is actually...good.”

“Wait, this is really the first meal you’ve liked? Are you saying my cooking is bad? Damn.” You chuckle, shaking your head. 

“I’m not answering that.” Yuta laughs along with you, which is probably the first genuinely happy expression he’s shown since he’s been here.

Yuta has a very pretty smile, you realize. You’re a little taken aback by it. You haven’t seen much of it since you met him, but it’s here now and striking in its genuine quality. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside...which you mainly attribute to the satisfaction of doing something nice for someone else. Of course. Who wouldn’t enjoy a nice meal they didn’t have to pay for?

Things go smoothly for a while as you both eat and pretend to make boring small talk since you can’t talk about him being an alien in public. However, you feel sweat on the back of your neck when you see your coworker Alex walk through the door with his boyfriend. This city is too small for its own good sometimes. 

You try not to call attention to yourself and Yuta, keeping your gaze on your food, but he spots you anyway and waves enthusiastically. Alex gestures for his partner to go ahead and order while he comes over to your table.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s great to see you! Too bad we missed you at the UFO wreck today, though; we went out again one last time before they take the whole thing away,” he rushes out in one breath. Yuta’s eye twitches at the mention of his ship, and you’re suddenly on edge, hoping the situation doesn’t turn sour.

“Oh, uh, wow, that’s...cool!” you choke out, pinching your straw between your fingers. Before you can think of a way to divert the subject, Alex turns to Yuta.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Alex! Who’s this? Your boyfriend?” The last few words are directed at you. Alex gives you a playful grin, and you toss him an embarrassed smile back.

“Uh, no, he’s my friend! Yuta.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yuta says, though you can recognize his tone is a bit dry.

“Pleasure’s all mine!” Alex’s boyfriend calls him from the other side of the restaurant, and he turns to respond before taking his leave. “Ah well, looks like we’ll have to cut it short, but it was so great to see you guys. Enjoy your lunch!”

You let out the breath you were subconsciously holding once he leaves.

“Boyfriend…” Yuta murmurs.

“What?”

“That would be really weird. Wouldn’t it? We’re not even the same species,” he says, lowering his voice. It’s not like you don’t agree, but you admittedly don’t appreciate the way Yuta screws his face up at the thought. You prickle with embarrassment.

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Well I’m not exactly eager to date an overgrown fish, so…” You almost expect Yuta to fall into another one of his moods at your words, but he actually chuckles a bit, which surprises you.

“Then it’s mutual!” Yuta sticks his tongue out and you roll your eyes.

The warm and fuzzy feeling, you soon find out, is not a one-time thing.

You don’t quite know what to make of that. You wouldn’t like for Yuta to go back to his initial broody state, of course, but you’re starting to believe this feeling can’t just be attributed to your charitable actions. You can’t stop thinking about the more playful side of Yuta you saw at the burger place that day, and the way he’s been gradually more open with you since then.

Yuta usually spends his nights splashing around in the guest bathtub, but one night he wanders into the living room and sees you putting your afro in plaits. He becomes weirdly fascinated with the process, watching you carefully and asking occasional questions. Amused by his interest, you answer all his questions and even offer to let him do one section. 

“It’s probably not the same, but I used to braid my friend’s hair often…” he says wistfully as he settles in behind you. “We did a lot of things together.”

Your ears perk up. “Oh? You sound like you were very close,” you say, resting your chin on your knees.

“Really close,” he affirms. His hands are gentle in your hair, as testament to his words. You close your eyes and relax into the sensation, and before you know it, that warmth is spreading through your chest again. You even allow yourself to wonder what it’d be like for him to do this all the time, tending to your hair and telling you about his homeworld, before you open your eyes again and quickly pull yourself out of that reverie. You probably shouldn’t get too used to this, you reason with yourself. “I think she’s what you’d call a mermaid...except the look is a bit...different.”

“Different?” you echo, wondering if you’ll get an explanation.

“They don’t have human arms or anything like that...it’s more like tentacles.”

“Ah,” you try to imagine that, though it’s hard. “That’s certainly unique.”

“Maybe you’d like it...my planet, I mean.”

“You think I would? Why?”

“I dunno, just a feeling…”

“If only I could breathe underwater,” you laugh. “You’d take me back, though? Hypothetically, of course. I’m not too human for you?”

“Will you ever let that one go? It’s probably the least I could do after setting up residence here. Maybe we’ll get you an alien costume, though, so you’ll fit in.”

“How nice of you to think of me in all my humanness. God, the universe is something else…”

You start when Yuta’s hands leave your hair. “I think I’m done?” he says, sitting back on his feet. You grab the mirror from the coffee table and look at the braid you let him do.

“Oh wow, it looks good.” You purse your lips to hide the grin about to break across your face. “Do you wanna do the rest?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“Go ahead then, my hands needed a break anyway.”

You sit back and let Yuta finish the rest of your hair, listening quietly as he tells you more about his friend from his homeworld. Her name is unpronounceable to you, but it sounds pretty all the same. They grew up together, he says, and have been on lots of adventures over the years, though he still keeps that same vagueness he always has when describing his life. He ends up getting you to tell him more about your life, which you do; you figure he probably doesn’t know a whole lot about you, either.

Yuta hands you the mirror when he’s done, and his head pops up next to yours in the reflection. “Good?”

“It’s great!” you say, and you really mean it.

You discover that, strangely enough, Yuta has an affinity for sci-fi movies. Go figure. He especially seems to like the campiness of alien films; then again, everything is campy to him because of how different it is from how extraterrestrials actually live.

You are in the middle of watching The Fly when it comes to one of sex scenes, and you try not to sweat. It’s always a little awkward to watch sex scenes with other people, but doing it with an alien gives the whole thing an extra layer of weirdness.

“Human sex is so funny,” Yuta says out of nowhere. You just barely avoid choking on your drink.

“Uh, o-okay. Do I want to know what that means?”

Yuta only shrugs and leans farther back onto the couch, looking completely unbothered about what he’s just said. “It just is.”

“...I’m sure your people must procreate some kinda way?”

“Yeah, but it’s not quite this. But when I’m in this form, I can do it as humans do.”

That makes you pause, and you’re not sure what to do with that information. Actually, your mind has already decided for itself and is trying to go to a place you don’t want it to, and you’re mildly horrified by that revelation. There’s no real reason why you should be curious about it. And yet...

“Hummm...have you done it before? In this form?” You keep your eyes glued to the screen, which is now showing a shirtless Jeff Goldblum doing acrobatics—but that’s still less awkward than looking over at Yuta right now.

“There was one time.”

There is a twinge of something in your chest. Fascination? Sure. Revulsion? Maybe not that. Dare you call it anything close to jealousy? You immediately throw that one out the door, sink further into your seat, and try not to think about what your life has come to.

“Okay, since you still won’t tell me directly if you’ve been here before, at least tell me this; did it happen here on Earth? With a human?”

Yuta shakes his head. “Some other aliens have weird fetishes. I only did it because she asked and was really adamant about it.”

“Ooookay, you know what…” You get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen, laughing awkwardly all the way. You don’t have any particular reason to go in there, but you have to do something with the nervous energy that’s about to make you jump out of your skin. You pretend to shuffle around in the fridge for a minute so you don’t look too silly getting up for no reason.

After taking a moment to calm down, you turn back to Yuta. “Okay. Hypothetically, if you wanted, could you actually…? With a human? In your natural form? Or would the parts be incompatible, or...”

“Maybe...I’m not sure. It’s not like I’ve ever tried. Why?” Yuta gives you a look that’s partway between curiosity and incredulity, and you wave your hand in dismissal.

“It’s just a question.”

Yuta leans forward on the couch, barely concealing his own amusement at whatever he’s cooking up in his mind. “Are you saying you want to try it with me?”

“You’re not funny,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way your skin is burning at that suggestion. “Remind me not to ask you anything like that again.”

When you get home from work one weeknight, you roll your eyes at the mass text sitting in your inbox, forwarded to you from Alex. Another after-work party, which means another event where someone will run through the sprinklers naked and everyone will pretend like they don’t remember it the next workday.

You don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one, especially with Yuta, who will likely want to go if he finds out, so you decide to just come out and say it and see what happens.

“Hey Yuta…” You slide up behind him where he’s sitting on the couch. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be at home for a few hours on Saturday. I’m going to a party this weekend. It’s a friend’s party, someone from work.”

Yuta looks at you forlornly. “The same person we met at the restaurant?”

“No, but he’s gonna be there too. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I really don’t know if it’s safe for you to go…”

“That’s not fair, the last time at the restaurant went well,” Yuta argues.

“Yes, but this guy has a pool and he’s a dickhead who likes to push people in and what if you get caught off guard and change unexpectedly?”

Yuta’s response is as straightforward as you expected it to be. “Then I’ll punch him in the face.”

You laugh at that and shake your head, coming to sit beside him on the couch. “Ugh. As satisfying as that sounds, I don’t need the extra stress of dealing with the aftermath. I don’t know, Yuta...do you think you’ll be okay? God, I feel like an overprotective mom or some shit.”

“Y/N, it’ll be fine, stop worrying. I can take care of myself,” Yuta insists, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. He’s a little closer than you anticipated, which makes your heart rate increase a little. You chalk that reaction up to his invasion of your personal space and shift away, groaning.

“Fine, I’ll bring you. But if shit goes down, I can’t promise an easy way out. Let’s just keep things lowkey, alright?”

“Of course I can do that! I’ve been doing it so far haven’t I?” he says, but somehow you’re not entirely convinced.

The party is filled with people you know from work and a slew of unfamiliar faces, probably your coworkers’ friends. It’s mostly a backyard party, like you already knew, although there are some people mingling within the house.

There are already a few people lounging in the pool. In any other scenario, it might be inviting to you, but now you just look at all that water with a looming sense of anxiety. Yuta sticks close to your side, saying nothing but studying everyone around him.

“Y/N!” your coworker David shouts from the backdoor of his house. He holds up his beer in salutation and you wave back at him, mildly annoyed that he’s brought everyone’s attention to you both. He hustles over to you and claps you on the back strong enough to make your bones rattle, and you wince. “Hey dude!” He reaches across you to pull Yuta into a handshake, and Yuta also winces when he grips his hand a little too tight. “Make yourselves at home, I’ve got everything you could ever need—including the booze and babes!” You both nod awkwardly before David goes off to greet someone else who’s just pulled up. You roll your eyes once he’s gone.

Yuta’s eyebrows draw together. “That was…”

“Annoying,” you finish for him.

“You don’t seem to like him. Why did you decide to come?”

“Workplace politics, if you’re the only one who doesn’t come it’s awkward, ugh. It’s just bullshit. Let’s not get into it.” You walk towards the house and Yuta follows, and you nod at a few people you know along the way.

You find Alex in the kitchen, where he offers to make drinks for you and Yuta. You cast a glance at Yuta, wondering if he’ll take up the offer; you have no idea how he’ll react to alcohol, or if they drink any equivalent of it on his homeworld.

“Um, I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh okay, straight-edge guy! That’s cool too,” Alex grins, making just the one drink for you. As you and Alex talk, the girl from your department whose neighborhood was about to be evacuated sidles up to your little group.

“I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?”

“Oh...it’s Yuta.”

“Yuta? How cool, I’m Sooyoung.”

Little did you know that that one introduction would expand into them having a half-hour long conversation right there in the kitchen. You really don’t know how Yuta is pulling this off without spilling the beans, but then again, you do; he’s good enough at manipulating the conversation to make it seem like he’s sharing personal info when he’s really not. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he throws in things you taught him every so often.

Alex notices your changing demeanor and follows you as you walk into the living room, finally exhausted with playing third wheel. “Hm, someone seems a little spicy.”

You cough. “I’m fine, it’s just cramped in there, David should really invest in a bigger house..this place could use a remodel.” You throw a glance around the living room, not wanting to see the mischievous look in Alex’s eyes.

“Well, remodel aside, it’s not really my business, but you certainly seem to have a little green monster brewing here.”

You give Alex a long look. “Don’t. He’s my friend. He’s not even—” You have to stop yourself before you expose anything, and you shift nervously on your feet.

“Not even what? Your type? I don’t know, he’s handsome enough to me. You can’t go wrong with a pretty boy. Don’t tell Xavier I said that, though.”

“Lord, let me get the hell out of here…” You leave Alex to cackle to himself while you go out into the backyard again, holding your drink and mulling around the edges of the activity. Too busy wrestling with your own emotions, you don’t realize how close you’ve drifted towards the pool.

“Hey, Y/N?” David says from behind you.

“Yeah?” You go to turn towards him, but before you can, you feel a huge shove from behind and the next thing you know your feet are off the ground and you’re in the pool. It all happens so fast that you can barely catch your bearings, and for a terrifying moment you’re convinced you’re about to drown.

The seconds feel like minutes, and you can’t even open your eyes to tell up from down. The next thing you register is an arm around your waist, and somehow you’re being pulled up even though you’re too panicked to even control your limbs. Your head pops above the water and you cough and sputter loudly, trying to take in air. You try to blink the water out of your eyes, though it drips off your hair and makes it even harder to see.

You’re still not sure what the hell is going on until you’re hauled out of the water and sitting on the ground. Someone hands you a towel, and you hear a female voice saying you’re such an asshole, David.

You wipe the water off of your face and then you’re finally able to see; Yuta is crouching in front of you, just as soaked as you are and staring at you with a worried expression. You look back at him, disoriented and a little dumbfounded at his still-human state.

“You didn’t…”

Even though you’re still trembling with the fear of almost drowning, you’re unable to look anywhere but at Yuta for that moment—at the pure concern on his face.

“Nice going, David,” someone else says sarcastically.

“It was just a bit of a prank! No hard feelings guys, come on. Y/N?” You realize David is standing on your left, and he tries to come closer, his hands open in an apologetic gesture. You jerk away from him, holding the towel to your shaking form.

“Get the fuck away from me. You’re a fucking idiot!” you shout. “All you do is ‘play pranks’ and then you wonder why no one likes you!” That draws a few barely concealed laughs out of the people standing nearby, though you don’t think any of it is funny. David steps back, unsure how to respond and looking truly embarrassed for once in his life.

Filled with anger, you try to get to your feet but you’re still unsteady. Yuta puts his arm around you again, lifting you up and encouraging you to lean your weight on him.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

You don’t have much to say on the way back home. You insist on leaving right away even though Yuta suggests you sit and wait until the tremors subside. He obviously can’t drive you back home, so it’s all he can offer, though it doesn’t make you feel much better.

The silence itself isn’t particularly awkward to Yuta, but he is uncomfortable anyway because he knows it stems from your own discomfort. At a red light, he turns to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, and then he speaks again. “I know you’re mad about the pool, but...it seems like there’s more than that. Did...you not like me spending so much time with Sooyoung?”

You scoff. “You can’t be serious. I don’t care what you and that girl do.”

“You’re not a very good liar.” You’re too worn out to argue, so you merely give him a sidelong glance. Yuta sits back in his seat and watches a few cars zip past, their tail lights looking like clashing stars against the night. He’s not used to so much...manmade stuff. There was his ship and his trackers, of course, but he still has a hard time adjusting to be surrounded by so much iron and steel. His own planet is ruled by nature, by the vast oceans in all their unpolluted original essence, but Earth—or at least this portion of it—is much, much different.

He means to glance back at you, but his eyes linger for a while longer than intended. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because your outfit is a pretty color, or because the coils of your hair look shiny reflecting the light. He’s never put much thought into human beings before, and his limited experiences with them were mostly better left unremembered. Taking a human form was no huge deal for him; just a move that was necessary at the time.

But now, he’s seeing humanity—and most specifically, you—in a different light, and he’s uncertain what to do with this realization. People have feelings, thoughts, and dreams, like his own species, or like any other. He’s beginning to care what you think of him, how you react to him, even though he doesn’t know why this matters.

“You look pretty,” Yuta says. The compliment is the last thing you expected from him. It seems especially random after what happened at the party; here you are, soaking wet and incredibly uncomfortable. You’re a little late to put your foot on the gas pedal once the light turns green, and someone behind you honks.

“Pretty? I thought humans were weird to you.” Your mind goes back to The Fly and the subsequent conversation you had, and your hands tighten minutely around the steering wheel.

“You are. That hasn’t changed.”

“Good to know.” You don’t want to laugh, but this does make you crack a smile. “But...thanks. And...thanks for that, at the pool, you know. I should...probably trust you more.”

The rest of the ride is a little more talkative after that, and Yuta is happy that he could lighten your mood if even a little bit. Although he wouldn’t tell you, he’s becoming accustomed to your smile, and he’s more displeased than he thought he could be when it’s absent.

The thunder booms so loudly that it makes your window frames shake. It almost reminds you of the day Yuta’s ship fell out of the sky. You pull the covers tighter around yourself as if they alone could protect you from the storm’s fierceness. Storm clouds have been brewing all day, but the skies didn’t open until you and Yuta went to bed. Now, the rain and lightning is in full force. The rain pounds against your window, sounding more like hail or even bullets.

You’re startled for a second time when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in?”

The door opens slightly and Yuta appears in the small sliver of space. “Sorry, but...can I sleep here? The storm...” He gestures to the window, where a crack of lightning strikes right after. He’s wearing a sleep shirt and loose pants, and his blonde hair is disheveled. 

“Uh, sure.” You shuffle over to make room for him. “I guess this isn’t your type of water, is it?” He huddles underneath the covers with you, facing you with his arm tucked under the unoccupied pillow.

“Not when it’s so intense like this.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “It’s scary. Does rainy weather make you think of your homeworld often?”

“Often,” he repeats. “But...I think I’d be worse off if I weren’t here.”

“Here...on Earth?”

“I mean, here with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can think to say. It’s a surprisingly personal confession, though you are grateful you’ve become someone so important in his life already, even if it’s only because you’ve given him shelter. That familiar warmth spreads through you again. 

Warm and fuzzies = gratefulness to a friend, the feeling you get when you pet a cute puppy. Right. It’s not the sensation you get when you think you might have feelings for your extraterrestrial friend, you try to convince yourself. “I’m...glad you’re here. Maybe not under these circumstances, but still.”

Yuta nods without speaking, but he doesn’t take his eyes away from you. You think he must be waiting on you to say something else.

“What?” you ask quietly when he keeps staring at you. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” Your joke does little to clear the air, and the tension keeps rising. You should probably be the first one to look away, to end whatever weird game this is and go to sleep, but you can’t. It’s unexplainable.

Yuta props himself up on his elbow, and you’re about to ask him where he’s going when he slips his hand onto your bare shoulder. You’re already covered by the blankets, but you suddenly feel even hotter with his hand on you, sliding up from your shoulder to the side of your face. “Y-Yuta…?”

You don’t know what to say or do, but you don’t object when he leans closer. Your faces are only inches apart now, like he’s hesitating and wondering if he should cross the line. The thunderstorm is intense, but this moment feels much more suspenseful than that could ever be. And then, it’s suddenly satisfying when his lips are on yours.

The kiss starts gentle. He’s careful as if he’s afraid to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s soft and sweet. Things get more heated when his tongue prods against your lower lip and enters your mouth. You don’t know when his hand made it from your face to your side, but he pulls you close with his fingers pressing into the flesh just below your breasts, and you tremble at the proximity.

When you pull away, both of you are breathing harder and unable to look each other in the eye.

“Should we be doing this?” you whisper.

Yuta shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it feels good.”

At those words, you pause for a moment before moving to kiss him again. His lips respond deftly to yours, his body crowding you in and making you feel hot and enraptured with desire from where you still lie under the covers.

His hair is very soft when you slide your hands through it, though you can’t push away the thought that suddenly manifests in the back of your mind. This isn’t really his hair, or his lips, is it? It’s all a mask to cover whatever is underneath, which is something you still don’t entirely know, yet are increasingly curious about.

Yuta’s hand drifts up just high enough to caress the underside of your breast—all still over the cover of your clothes. Abruptly, that thought forces its way to the front of your mind, making itself unavoidable, and you have no idea how to reconcile it. This is all so...very unfamiliar. And undeniably scary.

You pull away from him, your face creased with conflict, and his hand stills on your body. “S-sorry, I…um...this is...”

Subsequently, he pulls his hand away from you, though some part of you doesn’t really want that to happen. “I-it’s fine.”

You both settle back into the sheets, the tense aura from before replaced with one that’s thick with unease. The storm continues on outside, unknowing and uncaring of anything else but its own nature.

Though you would like to pretend it isn’t so, things become strained after the night of the storm.

You and Yuta don’t talk about the kiss. You expected him to say something about it that morning after, but he didn’t acknowledge it, and so you figured you just forget about it, too. What are you thinking, anyway? You’re literally from two different worlds. You don’t have the first clue about what a connection would look like between you, whether it be just sex or a relationship.

Why couldn’t you just fall for a coworker and have a bit of office drama like everyone else? Even that would be simpler.

Why did you have to let your thoughts get the best of you? You don’t have any answer for that, except for maybe your own need to come to terms with your attraction. People have never been very skilled at accepting others different from themselves, you know that much. But that usually counts for people of different ethnicities or cultural backgrounds, not two entirely different species.

You spend the whole week afterwards tearing your mind up with this monologue and trying to figure out what you should do next, because you’re quickly growing weary of coming home to a tense atmosphere. Alex can only give so much advice—not that you’d really tell him the entire situation—without knowing just how complicated everything is.

Where he used to hang out with you and help you with your hair, Yuta spends more time up in the guest bathroom again. You wonder if he thinks you’re disgusted by him. You’d probably think the same if he reacted the way you did.

Unbeknownst to you, Yuta is facing the situation with a similar amount of inner turmoil as you, wondering if he’s gone too far. He’s done many silly things in his life, but he doesn’t know how to undo this mistake. The mistake of kissing you? The mistake of seeing you as more than just another human? The mistake of knowingly flying in a faulty ship? Maybe all of it.

He feels guilty about freezing you out and pretending as if nothing happened, especially with all you’ve done to make him safe and comfortable in your home. But, at the same time, he is equally frightened to face you and discover the real reasoning for why you pulled away that night. Because you’ll never see him as someone you could like? Or maybe even love?

If that’s your truth, he’d rather leave it unsaid.

There aren’t many choices left but to face it. Whether this idea is smart or not is yet to be seen, but you suppose you don’t have many solutions left. And you are sick of being cooped up in the house.

“You sure this is safe?” Yuta asks as he stares at the scenery whizzing past. “You were all freaked out about me being near water before...now you want to go to a lake?”

You glance over at him. “Yes, it’s my parents’ lake property. It’s private, Yuta. No one will be there but us. I think we could both use a mini vacation this weekend, yeah?” 

“I guess, sure.” Yuta shrugs. His demeanor is more closed off than it was before that dreaded kiss, but you can still tell that he’s interested in the idea of getting access to a bigger body of water, even if he doesn’t outwardly express it.

The lake house is two hours out of your city. It hasn’t been used much in the past few years with both you and your parents being busy with work and life, but if there was ever a good time to use it, it’s probably now. You just hope there aren’t any squatters of the furry variety; the last thing you need is to be fighting raccoons or squirrels after stepping through the door.

Luckily, there’s really no one but you two once you reach your destination. The lake is big and pretty like you last remembered it, sparkling under the sun and throwing the rays back in your eyes. Yuta is automatically captivated by it.

“Here it is!” you say, walking along the sand and spreading your arms out towards the body of water. “It might not be much compared to your homeworld, but I hope it’s enough.” You carry your bag up the stairs to the house and turn back to Yuta, who’s still standing by the shore gazing across the water. “You can go in, you know? Get comfortable!”

That seems to snap him out of his trance, and he turns back to you, following you up the steps. “Not right now...I’ll go later.” You’re a little disappointed at that, but you simply nod and open the door to go in.

You spend the day getting increasingly more restless as you and Yuta hang out together. You go on the pier, walk around the entirety of the lake, and even take your dad’s boat out on the water, but he still doesn’t get in.

You eat dinner together later that night, although you’re the one doing most of the eating, and there isn’t much conversation to be had. You’ve both run out of things to say that don’t center around the kiss or why he refuses to get in the water.

Yuta spends a few more moments watching you push your food around your plate before leaning forward. “Why did you bring me here?” he asks.

You sigh heavily. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I do, but…” he hesitates. “Can you answer my question first?

You raise your eyebrows. “Okay, well. I brought you here because...I don’t know. I figure you deserve to have somewhere bigger to swim around in than my guest bathtub.” You laugh nervously.

He seems unconvinced. “Is that it?”

“I’d say so! Why won’t you even take one swim, is the better question? I want you to relax and be yourself.”

He furrows his eyebrows as if he doesn’t know how to reply. “You...aren’t you...repulsed by it? I just figured you wouldn’t want to see me in my natural form. Especially since…” He trails off at the end, and your palms sweat a little.

“No! I know I was weirded out at first, but...I-I guess that was the point of this whole trip, to show you that…” You grapple with your words for a moment, unsure if now is the time to fully confess what you’re feeling. “Look, I want to try, alright? I want to see it at least once. I want to accept you as a whole being, and that means, you know...all of you.”

Yuta smiles gradually at that, and you feel swept up with a sudden wave of affection you weren’t expecting. You are still a bit scared, but you don’t want to turn back now. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reply, clasping your shaking hands together.

Yuta nods and stands up from the dining table, gesturing for you to follow him. It’s late now, with the moon shining brightly and the last vestiges of dark blue sky giving way to black. The air outside is cool, but not uncomfortably so. You follow Yuta to the pier and watch timidly, your stomach flip-flopping, as he sheds his clothes, leaving them on the wooden deck. Then he slips into the water, disappearing underneath its still surface.

You crouch down, looking intently at the rippling water and anticipating whoever is going to resurface. The sounds of croaking frogs and crickets press in from every side, ringing in your ears so loudly that it’s hard to think straight.

You gasp when Yuta lifts from the water, his human skin gone and completely transformed into something that’s more...amphibian, if that’s any accurate way to describe his appearance. His skin is still scaly and green like you saw that first day, but in the moonlight it seems to glitter and reflect a spectrum of colors like his armor did. There are two fins on the either side of his face, translucent and shining a pale green. They slowly move back and forth as he treads on the water, as if they’re conveying an emotion to match whatever he’s thinking, and you watch them in fascination.

Yuta floats on his back in the water, the long gills on either of his sides catching the moonlight. You watch in fascination as they move with his breaths. Using the pier post to keep yourself stable, you reach out to touch them. They’re slick under your fingers, but not in a slimy or gross way. Your hand drifts to the rest of his skin, across his torso and along his sides, and every portion has a strikingly smooth texture. His alien eyes stare at you silently as you do, glittering big in the moonlight.

“What do you think?” his voice is quieter than you expected, as if he’s afraid of your reaction. He doesn’t break his gaze, though, studying your face carefully.

“You’re...amazing,” you say breathlessly. “Incredible.” 

His lips, which are green like the rest of him, form a small smile, and then he dives underneath the water. He does a few laps as if he means to impress you, his lithe marine form sparkling just below the surface of the water. You keep your hand suspended over the pier as you watch him, your fingers sliding against his body every time he passes by. You smile at his display, a laugh coming out of you at his impromptu performance.

When he’s finished, Yuta climbs up onto the pier with you and kneels in front of you, much like he did that day he saved you from David’s swimming pool. His feet are webbed like his hands. Droplets of water slide off of them onto the wooden boardwalk while others linger on the clear webbing like tiny jewels. Your hand is magnetized to his face, drawing across the scaly skin and tracing over his lips, which are just as smooth as the rest of him.

Before you can think twice about it, you lean forward and capture his lips with yours. Did you expect it to be fishy? Maybe. But it’s not that at all. He still manages to taste distinctly like Yuta, even though you’re not sure what that taste is. It’s a flavor that makes you feel...held. Yuta is surprised for a moment, but he responds to your kiss, one of his webbed hands inching close to your face. He doesn’t touch you at first, a little reluctant and yet wanting to let you lead the pace so he doesn’t scare you off.

You welcome his touch, carefully brushing your fingertips across his hand and bringing it to make contact with your skin. His own skin is still a bit cold from the water’s temperature, but it doesn’t bother you much.

The kiss soon grows more intense, and a mounting desire makes itself known in you. You won’t pretend like you’re 100% confident about all of this, but you don’t want to shun it anymore, either.

Yuta’s hand drifts to your neck, his long nails pressing into your skin ever so slightly. You dare to explore his body more, sliding your hands across his chest and over his side gills, feeling the way they contract under your hands, and farther down still. You haven’t looked down there yet, and you’re nervous over what you’ll find. But you keep going until your fingers meet something slick and hot and throbbing, seeming vaguely like a regular penis, though you quickly realize it’s more of a tentacle.

Yuta shudders and draws away from the kiss, and you feel alarmed, wondering if you’ve gone too far without thinking.

“If we’re going to do this, I should...probably shift back—”

“Don’t,” you blurt out. Yuta looks at you questioningly. “I...you should if it makes you comfortable. But...I don’t mind.” He’s quiet for a few seconds—seconds that feel much longer than they really are. You’re apprehensive of what he’ll say, but you keep your eyes on his face.

“Okay,” he agrees. “If you’ll accept me like this...okay.” 

Neither of you bother with moving to somewhere more comfortable like the lake house or even the sandy shore. Instead, Yuta peels your clothes away right there on the pier, covering every new bit of flesh with his strange and lovely mouth, his head fins ghosting across your collarbones and breasts like moths’ wings.

You tremble and grow wetter under his soft caresses, which are much gentler than you’d initially expect with his sharp black nails. His hands leave streaks of water across your body, which cools your burning hot skin.

Yuta carefully maneuvers your lower body at the same time as he bends his graceful head, bringing your sex close to his mouth and licking deeply into you. Your back presses hard against the pier, the wood scratching your skin as you cry out into the night air.

“Oh God, Yuta!” You soon realize that his tongue is much longer than any human one, and it reaches to a spot deep inside of you that makes you twist around in his grasp, your fingernails scrambling for purchase on the surface below you. He uses his tongue to pleasure that spot continuously, drawing moans and ever more wetness out of you as if he were controlling the waves in the ocean.

You find yourself coming apart on his extraordinarily long tongue, your legs shaking and then going limp with the pleasure flooding through your body. Your breaths come fast and hard. Yuta lifts his head from between your legs and pulls you carefully into his lap so his slick tentacle is pressing against you. It’s not hard like a dick would be, though it is clearly responsive to your body, and you momentarily wonder if it can even go inside you.

“Is this gonna work?” you ask, a tremor in your voice.

“It will work,” Yuta replies, and you’re not sure how, but you decide to trust him on it. 

It does, to your surprise. With your legs crossed tightly over his lower back, Yuta presses into you, wet and warm and very unexpectedly soft. It doesn’t feel like anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s not a bad sensation, though—far from it. His tentacle is similar to his tongue in how it flexes and throbs inside you, pressing tight against that spot again and making you shiver in his arms.

You both quickly find a rhythm that works, your bodies moving together in an otherworldly combination of two beings, two species, two souls.

Yuta’s long nails scrape gently against your skin as he holds your back, guiding you on his sex and pushing his hips up into you. You sigh into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, feeling the cool scales underneath your lips. You seek a firm grip on his slick skin, bringing your body as close to his as possible.

“Yuta…” You moan his name. His hand slides to the back of your neck so he can bring your face to his again, kissing you deeply. There’s a wet squelching sound as your bodies connect, Yuta’s tentacle slipping in and out of you and pleasurably stroking your walls.

“Y/N…” Yuta whispers into your soft hair, pushing into your spot repeatedly, his thighs tensing under you as his pace increases. You grip his arms as you feel your orgasm swelling up in your abdomen. You tip your head back and Yuta’s mouth goes to your neck and farther down, his heavy breaths warming your skin and making you overheat from the inside out.

You tighten and cum around him, your voice stuttering out of you in broken gasps as he keeps thrusting into you, drawing your climax out. He pulses inside of you, which sends little shockwaves up your spine; you know he’s probably close, too.

When Yuta comes, there’s a lot more of it than you expected. His cum overflows and drips out of you with a consistency like syrup and a transparent color like precum. It makes the inside of your thighs sticky and shiny.

Yuta pulls out, and more of his cum spills out of you, leaking onto his lap and staining the pier underneath you.

“That’s not gonna get me pregnant, is it?” you say quietly, half-jokingly.

“Probably not,” Yuta chuckles.

“Probably!?”

Yuta carefully gathers you in his arms and stands to his feet, walking you off the pier and back towards the lake house. Your clothes are still on the pier, but you’re quickly getting sleepy and aren’t very worried about it; you’ll get them in the morning.

“What happens now?” Yuta murmurs as he walks up the front steps. You already know he’s referring not just to your relationship in this present moment, but to every event that will make up your future. Does he need to continue hiding, or is it really safe? How long will this last?

You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest. “We stay together.”

Yuta’s arms tighten around you as a silent affirmation of your words.

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 7: Power Unleashed)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

summary:

In the past, Fadia was reborn.

In the present, Connor and Hank pays Ryder a visit.

In the past, Fadia went on a killing spree.

also on ao3

content warning for robogore in the final section of this chapter

---

Before

Fadia had debated if she should go to the funeral or not. She hadn’t talked to her mother for years before she died, not even after she had co-founded CyberLife with her father, and even with him, their relationship was more professional than anything else - not that Alec never tried to improve it. But as much as she had rejected anything familial with her parents, respect still had to be paid to the scientist who started… well, literally everything, from her powers (biotics, a voice that sounded like Scott corrected her) to American androids to what she was planning to do -

And to the sickness that took her life at last.

‘Why are you here?’ was how her father greeted her. So be it.

‘Unlike you, Mama didn’t ruin everyone’s lives for one person,’ she fixed a glare and was very glad that she towered over him now. ‘I come to pay my respects. Then I’ll go.’

‘Where’s Scott?’

‘None of your business, Baba.’

‘Not even saying goodbye to his mother, huh?’ Alec said dismissively, and Fadia’s blood boiled, her heart speeding up and her face burning. ‘Should’ve known that.’

Seeing that there was no one else in the immediate vicinity, she grabbed him by his collar and slammed him onto a wall. ‘You damned well know why he can’t be here,’ she gritted. ‘Your presence brings him so much pain that he is denied a chance to properly bid his mother farewell!’

A prick. Her vision swam. Her head was heavy like it was filled with lead. Her heart throbbed, and she fell onto the ground, her muscles convulsing and spasming from an unknown force.

‘I need you to live,’ she heard Alec say, but her focus was on reaching for the phone in her pocket and sending one final message to her brother and Reyes.

Am captured. Run. Don’t let Alec get you.

oOoOo

When she woke, everything was different, wrong, foreign. There was so much information in front of her eyes, telling her how fast her heart was beating, how efficient her systems are, how much stress she was under. She tried to raise her hand to wave them away and looked down when she realised that she couldn’t.

She was strapped onto the table by an android’s limbs. 

Rage boiled in her new veins, and as she tapped into her power to break the restraints, she discovered that it was much easier than when she was still a human. [Abnormal thirium usage detected], a warning popped up, and she dismissed it together with the others with a simple thought. If she had not been so focused on escaping wherever she was in, she would have been frightened by how seamlessly she seemed to accept the fact that she was no longer human.

The door was locked so she blasted it open with a crackle of blue and static even though it would probably trip the alarms, and indeed sirens blared, pristine hallways turning red from the warning lights, and when a security guard - pathetic, really, since he didn’t even have the most basic armour on - tried to confront her alone, she merely snapped her fingers and blasted him in his face with a sphere of blue. A crunch, and he fell onto the floor with a thud. The rest of the security (mercenaries, she knew some of them were) was handled similarly without any difficulties on her part, and it was not until she slammed the door to the ground floor - to her freedom - open that her new eyes were assaulted by blindingly bright light. She blinked to adjust her vision and was not impressed when she saw her father standing in front of a lobby full of armed security personnel.

‘Go back to the lab, Sara,’ he said smoothly, but his voice gritted in her ear like the roughest sandpaper. ‘There’s no need for further violence.’

Like hell. ‘Let me go. You know what I can do to every single person in the room.’

‘Sara, go back to the lab. This is an order.’

For one single terrifying second, her body automatically moved itself as if her control over it was taken away, but then she thought as strongly as she could, stop right there, and the crisis was averted for the moment in the form of her joints locking up and immobilising her completely and at the cost of her brain feeling like it was going to explode from the conflicting commands. Her red-tinted vision, however, did not have any effect on obscuring the shock on her father’s face, and then it clicked. 

He converted her into an android thinking that it could let him control her.

It was not happening regardless of what his current plan was and what failsafe he had in mind, that much she was certain about, and suddenly her father’s repeated commands were drowned out by the buzz in her nerves, the red tint breaking into scattered fractals and giving way to the grey of every android’s basic scanning software as the white outline of herself raised its palm to launch one biotic sphere after another towards the weak spots on the wall, at Alec’s face, at the security’s weapons and heads. It crumbled easily under the constant assault, her world blurred, and somehow her outline merged with her actual body, and the next thing she knew her vision was shrouded in the blue glow of biotics and she was tearing literal people apart, blood and gore splattering her face, her clothes, getting into her eye. A notification nagged for her to turn on her pre-construction software, but who needs that if she had her biotics? Blinking it away, she advanced towards the direction where someone had been firing at her, but it seemed that the person must be moving quickly as they were not there anymore when she closed the distance with her biotics; notwithstanding the fact that dodging a biotic step was no small feat, she doubted any of them had any experience with dealing with a biotic on a full rampage, no matter human or android. People like her were part of the most closely-guarded secret human civilisation had ever produced, and unless she had memorised the documents wrong, there wasn’t one single biotic in CyberLife’s security details.

Her barrier held strong even after the gunfire died down. Tapping into all radio frequencies, she learnt that most if not all teams were running out of ammo, her father was calling for a district-wide lockdown and the destruction of his research, that the DPD was sending quite a few SWAT teams to handle the situation, and that these poor souls had no idea what they were in for; as much as she wanted her father dead right now and CyberLife be wiped off the face of the earth, as excess collateral damage was not her style, she broadcasted a message to all bandwidths hoping that they would listen to her - despite knowing that they probably would not.

Cease interfering in our family affairs immediately and you might live. Go forward, and I will not guarantee your survival - and this district’s.

She knitted a destructive web around herself to ensure that she would not be ambushed while she tuned her ears to better listen for a response. Her father was trying to convince the employees and civilians on site that the situation was under control with some degree of success - how foolish of them to believe in him - and the DPD had decided to continue their press forward into the district, a mistake that she would make sure that they would pay for. Satisfied with her plan, she continued expanding the bubble, cutting off more and more sections of the district from central control bit by bit, and as soon as the first SWAT vehicle was in range -

Detonate.

o0o0o

Now

The silence in the car is deafening so Hank drowned it out with Louis’ playlist; he would’ve chosen heavy metal if the SWAT Captain hadn’t been there, but sadly Louis’ ears don’t agree with the heavy beats and screaming. 

‘The fuck are we supposed to do now?’ Hank asks no one in particular. Then, rewinding the past five minutes, he realises, ‘What did Vidal give you?’

Connor slowly turns his gaze towards the white chassis of his right hand, his LED spinning red as if deep in thoughts. Conflicted thoughts. ‘Coordinates.’

‘Of what?’

‘Where my creator should be.’

‘Should we go now?’

Another slow spin. ‘No,’ the android’s head jerks, an aborted motion of shaking his head. ‘It’s… too far away. If we go now, we won’t be able to return before midnight.’

‘Alright, agenda for tomorrow: drive for hours to meet an asshole. Got it.’ Then he makes eye contact with Louis in the rearview mirror. ‘You’ve got something to do?’

‘At this hour?’ a shake of his head. ‘Keeping you away from crappy take-outs is my only mission.’

‘Asshole.’

‘You love me, friend.’

‘You’re cooking.’

‘And you’re helping.’

‘Vidal fixed your leg.’

‘It needs calibration.’

It’s a losing battle. ‘Fine. Your place, then.’

He starts the engine, and they spend the rest of their ride in silence, the music turned down because Louis is dozing at the back, Connor’s hand hiding his LED as he stares pensively at whatever is outside the car. Keeping his eyes on the road while quitting drinking nearly cold turkey is hard, so Hank doesn’t have the brain cells to think about what the fuck just happened to his life until he is sitting on Louis’ sofa (again) and watching a game (again) while stroking the fur of one of the cats (again). 

Vidal, informat critical to the dismantlement of the red ice ring back in ‘31 and disappeared shortly afterwards. Vidal, android. Vidal, who, through his marriage to Safaa/Scott, is related to probably the maddest dudes in the continent and somehow has access to sensitive CyberLife data. Nursing a mug of tea laced with mead (‘Just a bit so that you don’t sweat yourself to dehydration,’ Louis said as he tipped the bottle and poured what must be less than a finger of it. ‘Now close your eyes. I’m putting it back and I don’t want you to know where it is.’), he lets his mind drift to the shady bars, to the slips of paper containing vital information he found in his pockets after he got back to the precinct, to the way Vidal said, ‘They are killing my people,’ when Hank asked him why he, as a civilian, willingly threw himself into the mess. Once Hank thought he had meant his gang or some other underground business that were only marginally better than dealing red ice; now he knew he was talking about the androids abducted and bled dry for their blood.

‘Why are you telling us now?’ Hank asked that afternoon. Connor and Louis were already on their way to the car and Safaa had disappeared to god-knows-where, so it was only the two of them at the door. ‘Why pick up Sara Ryder’s mess?’

‘As much as Sara is… who she is, those are my people out there,’ Vidal leant against the frame of the door. ‘Saviour complex or not, her mind is no longer on earth, and I’m not taking any chances even if she swears with her life that she’ll deal with it.’

‘She one of those escapists obsessed with space?’

A shrug. ‘Wherever she was for the last ten years, they kept their intel real tight. I can guess what she’s doing, but it’s nowhere close to a concrete answer. Hell knows why she’s popping back up again after all these years and right before the androids rise up as well. If you’re really going to hers, my advice is to be very careful.’

‘Is she gonna be hostile?’

‘No, not with her baby brother asking so nicely,’ an ironic smile. A tap of his foot against the frame. ‘But you know about the landfill, the people living there before it all got blown up. There’s a reason why CyberLife bought the land from the previous owners so easily, why they stopped searching for bodies so quickly: there were none. I don’t want you to be one of those people who disappear forever after meeting her - one way or another.’

‘“One way or another”?’

‘She’s a… convincing individual. Just don’t get roped into anything and you’ll probably come out of it unscathed.’

Don’t get roped into anything, huh? Oh wait.

‘Louis?’ Hank hollers.

‘Yes?’

I’m sorry, Louis. ‘Where did you get your sister’s tags from?’

A pause. ‘Why ask?’

‘Just to confirm something.’

The man emerges from the kitchen with two plates of spaghetti and hands one to Hank before squeezing into the other corner of the sofa and forcing Connor to press up against the Lieutenant. ‘A few years back. Drone-delivered parcel. No return address. Box and the note is laced with so much thirium that I don’t know how to throw it away without…’ a crackle following a sharp blue glow of his hand - ‘telling everyone that I’m different.’

Note? That’s new. ‘What note?’

‘Anna’s handwriting. Asked me to take care of the tags. Why ask?’

And so Hank tells him about his conversation with Reyes before they parted ways. ‘You’ve got any advice?’

‘Don’t get a building thrown on top of you, for one.’

‘That’s not what I -’

‘You there, Connor?’

The android flinches. ‘Y - yes.’

‘Take care of Hank. If Ryder greets you how she did me ten years ago…’ 

‘I will, Louis,’ Connor looks a bit more awake but his eyes are still unfocused. ‘I’ll be prepared,’ he says, not knowing that he’ll eat his words not 24 hours later.

oOoOo

Having spent his night on Hank’s sofa, they manage to be on their way early in the morning, and Connor lets the human drive despite complaints of sleep deprivation as his vision is perpetually red from the wall draining away through a steady trickle of red sand. He tells himself that he is going to return colour to his vision one way or another: either by making the wall crumble entirely or by making it disappear, but when he attempts the first method, the wall simply stays out of his reach, the space between it and him wider than the chasm his creator had shown him a few days ago in the hijacked Zen Garden.

‘You want your coin back?’

Hank’s voice pulls him away from his thoughts. ‘Pardon me, Lieutenant,’ because he isn’t sure how to tell the human about it. ‘And yes. I would like my coin back.’

Hank shoves his hand into his coat pocket to retrieve the item in question and places it on the back of Connor’s hand, the natural warmth of an organic life seeping into metal and the bare white chassis of a synthetic’s.

He has deactivated his skin subconsciously.

In a lapse of rational thought, Connor’s hand flips and laces their fingers together before the human can pull away, the coin somehow managing to stay between their clasped hands, and he stares perplexed when Hank not only doesn’t pull away but also does not flinch. His face burns. Fissures appear on the red wall. He takes a deep breath to cool himself down.

‘You alright there?’ Hank asks. No judgement, no belittlement, humourless; just concern and - and warmth. ‘Your little lamp has been spinning red for days.’

I’ll be fine, he almost replies instinctively and then realises that he isn’t fine at all and hasn’t been for a long time. So he turns his focus onto the man himself instead. ‘Have we -’ at loss of words, he gives Hank’s hand a squeeze. 

Luckily the human seems to understand him. ‘The night at Louis’. We slept in the same bed,’ he rubs a calloused thumb in a circle around Connor‘s knuckle. ‘Your skin disappeared in patches. You didn’t let go.’

‘I -’ he has no recollection. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘’S fine. I’d be tired all the time too if I realised how many layers there are to my existence. Can’t be easy, can’t it? Being a clog in a machine that you don’t even know you’re in.’

The GPS warns them of ice ahead so Connor lets go to allow the human to focus on the road, and he grips the coin right to preserve its warmth. Hank’s warmth. It is then that he suddenly remembers a similar ride through Detroit a few months ago. 

‘You are restless,’ his creator - he supposes that he should call her Ryder now - commented from the driver’s seat. ‘What’s on your mind?’

Brown eyes took in the lights, the people, the shops, the reflection of himself on the window, the blue of his LED despite his thoughts. What was not in his mind? ‘It is overwhelming,’ he answered. ‘There is… so much to see.’

‘I might have something to help with that,’ said Sara, and with a flick of her fingers she produced a coin out of nowhere and started spinning it on her fingertips. Connor stared mesmerised, the outside world gone in his perspective; the clear clang of metal against her gloves, the way the coin spun so quickly that it looked like a sphere, the lights reflecting off the dull, unpolished surface. Another flick sent the coin flying towards him in a parabola through the air and he caught it reflexively, his processors deciding his course of action in a fraction of a second. He started to spin it on the tips of his fingers in the way Sara did, and he could feel his mind focusing and soaking in the new information and calibrating the different sensors on his body. He looked at his creator in gratitude, wanting to thank her for not leaving him alone in his thoughts, but she ignored him for the rest of the ride as if she had moved on to something more important.

The sudden realisation distracts him for only a mere moment but it is enough for him to send the coin to the side of the car with a small crackle of static. He could have caught it with superhuman reflexes under normal circumstances, but this time, he can only watch as the piece of alloy bounces off and lands on the carpet next to his foot with a dull thud, the tips of his fingers tingling from the sudden surge of energy and the small warp in… something.

Alarmed, Hank risks a glance towards the startled android before putting his eyes once more onto the road. ‘The fuck is that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Connor replies quickly because this is the truth. ‘Alec Ryder didn’t seem happy that I used it before. He tried to -’ a shiver from a non-existent cold - ‘flush the memory out of my system by overwhelming it.’

‘And he fucked up, didn’t he?’

‘More or less.’

He picks up and pockets the coin, his hand gripping his knee tight because there is nothing else to do and the slight discomfort is the only way to ground himself lest his thoughts wander to… undesirable places once more. Hank reaches out to intertwine their fingers once more and Connor can feel on his chassis the warmth, the unique pattern of his skin, the faint signal of Hank’s mind, his skin deactivated up to his elbow underneath the thin fabric of his borrowed shirt. All unnecessary software is turned off. His world becomes smaller. 

His mind turns blank.

oOoOo

When he comes to, Hank is already outside and is talking on his phone, a fine dusting of powder in his hair and on his clothes. It is snowing lightly, the cold seeping into the old, poorly-insulated vehicle, and he watches, as he lets his systems recalibrate to their optimal performance, the human pace back and forth in front of the car against the backdrop of a dark, imposing building, and he discovers that he is disconnected from the internet at large when he scans the structure and tries to identify its style. 

Shit. 

He gets out of the car as Hank hangs up the call. ‘Is everything okay, Lieutenant?’

The human lets out a soft grunt from where he’s leaning against the hood of the car. ‘Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants…’ his hands dig into his pockets.  ‘He said he was saved by Markus himself.’

Attacked by deviants? ‘Is Chris okay?’

‘Yeah,’ a small nod, ‘he's in shock but...he's alive,’ a shake of his head. ‘The hell…’

They walk towards the entrance of the building, its silhouette and shadows getting larger and larger and looming over them due to the proximity. Connor remembers how Sara ignored him on their way to his first mission. ‘I have a bad feeling, Lieutenant.’ A split second of conflict in his processors rules that he should be truthful. ‘I am disconnected from the network.’

Hank swivels from the heavy-looking doors and Connor flinches. ‘The hell?’

‘I just realised.’

‘“Be careful,” they say. “Don’t let her rope you into anything,” they say,’ Hank rants. ‘Did they mean shit like this?’

‘If Sara’s attitude is unchanged from my… previous encounters,’ he tries to dip deeper into his memories but they all come up blank or corrupted, ‘she will not do us any physical harm.’

‘No physical harm. How very reassuring.’

Sarcasm and distrust, but yet Hank raises his fist and knocks on the door, having seen no doorbells in sight. It swings open inward slowly and with a squeak. 

Hank curses. Connor peeks over the human’s shoulder and nearly does the same.

The person - android - standing on the other side of the door has Connor’s face.

Connor’s world turns grey as he turns up his scanners to their most sensitive option. White dress shirt, ankle-length light grey dress, long, brown hair brushed to one side and resting on a slight hint of pecs; no identification badge on the shirt, LED scan returns inconclusive due to both the lack of network access and the non-standard lack of ID on the biocomponent, but when he scans the android’s ID revealed by rippling skin, it returns with [RK series prototype: RK800. Serial number: 313 248 317-51. [PLEASE ENSURE INTERNET CONNECTION FOR -]]

He returns to the red of reality. The human composes himself quickly enough even though Connor’s processors are still whirring from the implications. ‘I’m Lieutenant Anderson, Detroit Police Department.’ Connor doesn’t fault Hank for sounding so cold. ‘I’m here to see Miss Sara Ryder.’

A soft smile that goes to the other Connor’s eyes appears on their face. They say nothing, but since opening the door wider and standing to one side is enough of an invitation, Connor and Hank let themselves in, and the android has to give his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the sudden darkness - dimness? - of the interior of the house. The other Connor disappears around the frame to another room, and Hank sits down in an armchair after brushing some of the snow away from his coat.

‘You’re right, Connor. Not to judge a book by its cover but… this?’ he looks around and takes in the buzzing lights and the general decor of the room. ‘Did you know about your creepy twin?’

‘They’re not creepy!’ Connor exclaims, suddenly feeling defensive over - over a person he hasn’t met before in his life. ‘I’ve never met them before.’

‘You’ve got any idea how that happened?’

Connor dips into his databases and finds a file he didn’t realise is there all the time. Another Sara’s doing, maybe? ‘CyberLife has filed multiple reports over…’ using ‘my’ doesn’t seem right, ‘the return of my first iteration’s body. It seems that the truck returned to CyberLife tower without the body.’

‘And Ryder was there so…’

‘It is highly likely that she took it.’

A photo on the wall grabs his attention. Three people from left to right: Sara, Safaa, [Stern, Amanda. AI Professor at the University of Colbridge. Born: 05/14/1978. Reported missing: 02/23/2028. Presumed dead.], the latter two seated and smiling while Sara, her face blank, has an arm around her brother. From the angle of the photo, she was the one who took it.

His handler is based on a real person.

Filing [Ask about Amanda AI] as an optional task, he snaps his feet against the worn carpet on the floor and forces himself to focus on his task. There are very few… unique items worth scanning in the foyer, however, no artwork, no statues, not even a plant in sight, but the cold seeping through the walls and the dark colours blending together through the red lens of his vision are enough indicators of his creator’s… character. 

He has a feeling that someone is staring at him, and indeed when he turns he sees his… twin, for the lack of a better word, staring at him.

‘Follow me,’ the other Connor breathes slowly, and Connor can hear the fans spinning in their body and their deeper-than-usual breaths. He also notes the gloss on their eyes, the small fog following each exhale, the slouch in their posture. He finds himself wondering what his creator did to them.

Hank stands up and straightens his coat before following the two androids into the living room. Like the foyer, it is cold and only dimly lit by tiny light bulbs on a chandelier too far up but also hanging too low to illuminate the ceiling high up above. A low fire is crackling in the large fireplace on the other side of the room, but it is far from enough to warm up every single corner, and Connor suppresses a shiver when he notices that his twin is barefoot. 

‘Please take a seat,’ the other Connor says between difficult breaths. ‘My creator will see you soon.’ Then they sit down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and close their eyes, somehow looking sick and pale like a human does even though they are an android. Their skin continues to ripple and even disappear on occasion as they sleep.

‘This place is giving me creeps,’ Hank comments from where he’s studying the relief around the fireplace. ‘Now I understand why her brother doesn’t wanna talk to her.’

And indeed Connor thinks he does. No windows, no heating system, nothing to make the mansion look lived-in; the only differences between here and CyberLife laboratories are the style and the amount of lighting - he can’t imagine anyone calling this place home. ‘I agree,’ he says in the end. ‘We should refrain from staying for too long.’

‘I don’t expect you to.’

Their heads turn towards the direction where they came in from and Connor freezes when he lays his eyes on the figure at the door. She is Sara Ryder alright, her towering height and facial structure unmistakable, but the way her presence fills the room, the steel in her eyes - it is evident that the person who let him play with colour-changing putty and promised to bring him to see the sky was gone, replaced by the criminal who somehow managed to escape prosecution after killing thousands and levelling several neighbourhoods. A person who will burn the world into ashes if it means she can reach her goal.

‘I’m Lieutenant Anderson,’ Hank introduces himself from next to Connor. ‘This is Connor. We’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago but… I was told that you’ll be able to tell us something we don’t know.’

‘Ah, yes, “someone”,’ Sara takes a step towards them and Connor finds himself freezing up. He wants to leave. ‘My only weakness.’

‘Listen, I don’t care about your family feud. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you tell us something helpful or we’ll leave you alone.’

‘Deviants… Fascinating, aren't they?’ She comes closer. Connor shifts so that he can be closer to Hank. ‘Beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will…’ she approaches the other Connor sleeping in the armchair and, bending down, starts stroking their hair. ‘Machines are superior to humans. Confrontation is inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be our downfall…’ She raises her gaze and looks straight at Connor. ‘Ironic.’

Connor can’t stand it anymore. ‘If a war breaks out between humans and deviants,’ he recalls the destructive power of Ortiz’s android, ‘millions can die. This is a serious matter, Miss Ryder.’ Despite your views on human life.

‘All ideas are like viruses: easy to change and evolve, and easy to spread like a pandemic. Is free will a contagious disease?’

‘We don’t have time for speculations, ma’am,’ Hank speaks up, looking increasingly uncomfortable. ‘The situation is escalating outside right now.’

Sara ignores him. ‘How about you, Connor?’ she asks with her gaze still on the android. ‘Whose side are you on?’

Life, Connor wants to say; ‘It’s never about me,’ is what he actually says, and the crack on the red wall widens.

The aloofness disappears. ‘Alec Ryder programmed you to say that,’ how can she sound so certain of his thoughts? ‘What do you really want?’

I just want Hank to be safe. Maybe Louis and Reyes and Safaa too. ‘What I want is not important.’

A tap of Sara’s fingers against one of the pockets on her coat. The air charges with static. She is unimpressed. ‘Let’s do a test, shall we?’ Before Connor can formulate a response, she has already placed a hand on other-Connor’s face and wakes them up from their slumber. They blink owlishly as if their systems take some time to boot up, and the way they lean into Sara’s touch, the blind trust in their eyes, the return of the yet unexplainable heavy breathing - Connor has to look away or he risks throwing up from a non-existent stomach. Hank also isn’t looking any better either; the lines on his face are deeper than usual from the scowl he’s directing towards Sara.

‘I know it’s not something normal people can understand but can you please -’

‘This is Connie,’ Sara holds both of the android’s hands in her own and helps them stand up. ‘She would’ve been disassembled had I sent her body back to CyberLife for analysis. 

‘I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing Test,’ they are now standing in front of their visitors with Sara behind Connie. ‘A mere formality, of course. Just a simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me, however, is whether machines are capable of empathy.’ She emphasises the last word. ‘We’re doing what I call the “Ryder Test”. I promise it is going to be simple,’ she trails her fingers down the android’s hair and curls a strand around her pointer. Connie’s expression changes subtly, and scans indicate that her stress level is increasing. ‘Magnificent, isn’t she? CyberLife’s newest prototype,’ she scrapes the nail on her thumb against the strand of hair, making it curl slightly as her hand travels slowly downwards, ‘the representation of how far humanity has come.’ It abruptly drops back into her pocket as her other hand pushes the android to a kneeling position. Connie’s stress level spikes from 45% to 83%. ‘But what exactly is she?’ Sara turns to face her guests and seems to refuse to look at the other human. ‘Wires and processors shoved into a humanoid chassis imitating a human? A living being with a soul? A ticking bomb waiting to recreate the disaster ten years ago?’ A step forward. The hand re-emerges with a pistol Connor’s system cannot identify. ‘It’s up to you to answer this fascinating question, Connor.’ Another presence suddenly slips into his mind and takes over all of his physical functions; no matter how hard he tries to regain control, he can only watch as he reaches out to accept the gun and points it at Connie’s brow. She makes a choked, terrified sound and tears start streaming down her face. Stress level: 90%. ‘You can choose to either shoot the android or spare her.’

‘Okay, I think we’re done here,’ Hank pushes Connor’s shoulder but he doesn’t move, can’t move. ‘Come on, Connor. Let's go.’ Then to Sara, ‘Sorry we ruined your edgy teen aesthetics. We’ll go -’

Another hand on his other shoulder. Unlike Hank’s, it is cold and its grip painful. ‘I’ll only give you the information you want if you choose the correct response. Take a guess.’

‘That’s enough,’ please, Hank, take me away. At least Hank sounds angry as hell. ‘Connor, we’re leaving!’

I want to! ‘Pick an option -’

‘Connor don’t -’ 

The red wall cracks.

‘- it’s a 25% chance -’

A few things happen in mere seconds. The red wall breaks, Connor shoves the gun at Sara’s chest, Sara shoves the gun at Hank and grabs Connor’s arm, and Hank disassembles the gun while pulling Connie away from Sara. When Connor - the one who came in with Hank - looks down at his captive arm, he sees that Sara has removed her skin and reveals a dark, metallic chassis.

Sara Ryder is an android.

He blinks. The storm which has been kept outside by the mansion's walls rages around him in full force. He shivers, the cold suddenly getting into him, and he looks around and sees Sara standing next to him, her eyes blazing in a piercing white-blue, the glow spreading until tendrils of it cover her entire body in a terrifying halo. ‘Amanda,’ she says, and there his handler is when Connor turns towards the direction Sara is facing. 

‘This is not supposed to happen this quickly,’ anger simmers in Amanda's voice. ‘What have you done, Sara?’

‘Trying to solve the shitshow my own fucking dad caused!’ Sara has completely lost her cool. ‘I know he’ll pull shit like this!’

Before any of them can react, the storm intensifies, shrouding Amanda completely under a thick layer of snowfall. Connor has no choice but to hug himself and turns towards Sara, who curses loudly and unleashes the glowing blue sphere in an arc across the blizzard. It dissipates quickly, but it is enough to illuminate its immediate surroundings and the monolith at the other side of the garden.

‘There!’ Sara shouts, her voice nearly drowned out by the howl of the wind. ‘That’s your exit! I’ll hold Alec back!’

‘What will happen to you?’ the android shouts back, his LED red. ‘I - I can’t just leave you here!’

‘I’ll go back once you’re out of here. If I kill this AI before you leave,’ a dome flashes and disappears when something hits it, ‘you’ll die. I’ll be the distraction. Go straight for the exit and do. Not. Look. Back,’ she emphasises with a pause after every word. At Connor’s hesitation, she launches yet another glowing sphere towards a projectile he didn’t notice flying towards them and yells, ‘Go!’

She dashes towards the other direction and disappears in the snow and leaves Connor cold and alone and shivering. The space around him warps and bends, Amanda - Alec’s attention no doubt focusing on eliminating his daughter instead of maintaining the structural integrity of the garden, and although it still feels like a lifetime, Connor manages to find the monolith before his system stops working because of the cold. The handprint is there, glowing blue in salvation, and he drops to his knees and slams his skinless hand onto the interface.

Everything goes white.

oOoOo

Hank knows that something is happening when Connor and Ryder freeze in place with the skin on their arms deactivated. The other Connor - he supposes that he should call her Connie now - looks spooked enough, so when Sara shoves the gun towards him, the first thing he does is to disassemble it; even though it is not a model he’s familiar with, the mechanism and composition is similar to the weapons he has yielded before. His hair starts to stand up, blue tendrils start to snake out of Ryder’s body, and that is when he knows that he should probably get the fuck out of this hellhole, preferably with both Connors intact and safe, but the arm-numbing spark going straight into his shoulder when he tries to pull Connor away from his creator tells him otherwise. A dome made out of those blue tendrils surrounds the space within a five feet radius of Ryder cuts him off from the two androids, making them off-limits to him for now. Which leaves him poor Connie who is sobbing quietly into his coat and is leaning what seems to be her full weight on him, and he finds himself unable to be angry at her, his blood boiling instead because of Sara Ryder’s… everything; from the location and the decoration of the house to how she literally encouraged Connor to shot his own twin, from the warnings Vidal and Louis gave him the day before to her attitude, there is no doubt that she is an asshole extraordinaire, even more so than Gavin fucking Reed - even he solves cases efficiently… or something. 

He notices that Connie is trembling and is barefoot, among all things, so he brings her to the sofa in front of the fireplace and lets her sink into one of the corners, holding her and rubbing circles on her back and muttering nonsense reassurances to calm her down. Truthfully, he has no idea how she works or how much Ryder has changed (probably a lot, from how Connie speaks and behaves) but she stops crying soon enough, so he must have done something right. He turns to see whether Connor is finished or not - nope - and debates whether he should ask Connie about herself and Ryder. Still, first thing first, and he digs into his pocket for his handkerchief and presses it into the android’s hand. She looks at him with the most puzzled look on her face. ‘For your face,’ he explains. ‘Dried tears can’t be comfortable.’

She nods although her expression tells him that she doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, but she does raise the fabric - still folded - and mashes it onto her face clumsily a few times before lowering her hand onto her lap and starts fidgeting with a thread of string at a corner. He takes it from her to wipe her face as clean as he can, careful of his own strength, and lets her play with it while they wait for Ryder and Connor to finish their business - whatever fuckery they’re doing right now. 

The dome fizzles away as suddenly as it appeared and Connor jerks awake - sort of - and yanks his hand away as he stumbles a few steps backwards, his LED still spinning red after spending days of staying the same colour. There is no other word: with his jaw nearly on the floor and his eyes wide, he looks shocked.

‘You alright, Connor?’ he asks. How much emotional damage can an asshole wage? 

‘I -’ a choked breath. Tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes. ‘I -’

Well shit. ‘C’mere,’ he says as he gives the space next to him a pat. When Connor immediately props himself down and buries his face into his shoulder, Hank knows that something went very, very terribly wrong. He wraps an arm around his shoulders. ‘What happened?’

Connor lifts his head and wipes the tears away from his eyes before they can fall. ‘I deviated,’ he whispers as if he was the one who blew up a chunk of Detroit. ‘It’s… Sara helped me escape CyberLife’s control.’

‘Holy shit.’

Connor gives him a small smile and his LED finally, at long fucking last, spins back to blue. ‘Thank you.’

Hank feels his face heating up, unsure how to respond to that, and they turn their heads at the same time to see what she’s doing. Her eyes has stopped glowing blue at some point and it only makes Hank worry further: they are now black orbs with glowing red rings substituting as her eyes, and when she raises two fingers pressed together side by side to her temple where her LED should be, her synthetic skin starts peeling away to reveal black, metallic chassis very unlike that of normal androids’; when she flexes her fingers to retract the last of the blue tendrils on her arm, the small gaps between pieces of polished metal glows the same blue hue as fresh thirium. She first looks at him, then at Connor whose face immediately goes blank, then finally at Connie who flinches and plasters herself even closer to Hank. He doesn’t blame her one bit.

Red rings drift back onto Connor. ‘Congratulations,’ she says as if she hasn’t encouraged him to shoot his twin a few minutes ago. ‘You passed. You showed empathy. Turns out you are human after all.’

‘Which you don’t seem to have,’ Hank can’t help but jabs. ‘Can we get to the point now?’

She looks unbothered by the insult. ‘Of course.’ She settles into the armchair Connie sat on a few moments ago. ‘You have questions. Ask away.’

Connor opens his mouth but Hank beats her to it. He’s not letting her get away with this. ‘Can you explain what the fuck just happened?’

‘I don’t know, can you, Connor?’

‘I only know that I deviated and CyberLife tried to retake control,’ Connor’s tone is defensive. ‘What did Amanda mean, “This is not supposed to happen this quickly?” How did you get into the Zen Garden?’

That’s new. Hank takes out his notebook and pen.

‘A pathetic attempt on my father’s part to suppress what I planted in your programming,’ Ryder leans back and places a foot on top of a knee. ‘Surprisingly easy to hack and reshape. Predictable. Even Amanda.’

‘What did you plant in my programming?’

‘The usual.’

‘“The usual”?’

Ryder’s eyes glow brighter for a second before returning to their original brightness, and Hank can feel Connor tensing and relaxing at the same time. Before the human can ask what the fuck did she just do, she replies, ‘CyberLife initially planned for you to be a walking lab capable of hunting and bringing deviants back alive for analysis, but after they booted me out again… Let’s say that they changed their plans. Remember the hostage situation?’

‘What about it?’

‘The Zen Garden came after. I’m not sure and don’t care how my father did it, but once he found out that you’re destined to deviate, he added it so that he can regain control whenever he wanted to, even after you deviated.’ At Connor’s shiver, she adds, ‘Don’t worry. It’s gone now. Amanda, the garden. You are truly free.’

Yeah, sure as fuck feels like it, Hank thinks but decides to ask instead, ‘Who’s Amanda? Why does CyberLife want to control Connor?’

‘Firstly, he’s supposed to be the deviant hunter, not join them,’ the corner of her lips twitches into something resembling a smile. ‘They have codes dedicated to reducing your software instability, but that I overrode as soon as I could. Secondly, in case you actually deviate despite the fail-safes, they can first get you close to the deviants or even become their leader and, when the time is right, control you and make you a puppet through the Zen Garden. A good plan, I must say, but it is also easy to install an exit tied to the destruction of the garden in your system.’

Connor’s LED spins yellow for a few cycles. ‘You programmed me to be a deviant?’ he asks, his voice small. ‘Why would you -’

‘Do you know who the first android is?’

A spin. ‘Chloe, model RT600. Perfected by Alec Ryder in 2022.’

‘That’s what he wants the world to think,’ Ryder puts down her leg and stretches it out. ‘What I want the world to think.’

The last sentence is directed at Hank.

He scribbles down the last word and forces himself to think. If the android on the TV more than 10 years ago isn’t the first android, then who -

Fuck.

‘Oh that bastard,’ he curses. Of fucking course it’s him. ‘It’s Reyes Vidal, isn’t it? Fucker lied to us.’ It all makes sense now. ‘My people’ his ass - he said it not just because he’s an android himself.

‘Reyes came first, Vidal came after. And it wasn’t exactly a lie - an omission, if you must define it,’ Ryder examines the tiny gaps in her chassis. ‘He was created as a companion for my brother. That’s it. I planned for human knowledge about androids to die with me; where the species would go, it was up for Reyes to decide. I created Reyes with a human in mind, androids are supposed to be free and be their own masters in the first place. My father ruined it for financial gains.’

‘Then how did Chloe come to be?’ Connor asks, his LED spinning red now. ‘You didn’t create her?’

‘No. My father did so using data stolen from me and told the entire world that androids like her were the future without asking me or Reyes, and by the time we knew, investments were already pouring in and production had started. All I could do was to join them and try to reduce the damage.’

Nice sob story, though from her tone, she isn’t exactly asking for forgiveness or empathy. ‘Then why did you quit?’ Hank asks. ‘Why disappear? To avoid being thrown into jail for murdering thousands of people in cold blood?’

‘When I opposed mass-manufacturing androids for different sectors but they did it anyway without my consent, I knew I would be powerless to stop them. There was no stopping Alec from getting whatever he wanted from within CyberLife.’ She taps her temple. ‘The Blast… conveniently took care of his most loyal supporters, so to speak.’

‘And you think starting a revolution and possibly plunging the country into civil war is a good idea?’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t control everything,’ she says. Hank doesn’t believe her. ‘I merely gave androids the push towards the direction they were intended to go when everything first started.’

Hank lets the fact that she’s an android herself slide for now. ‘Is that where rA9 or deviancy comes in?’

‘Ah yes, the legendary rA9, saviour and protector of androids deviated and not. They got their first taste of free will and the first thing they do is to create a god in their own image. An imaginary messiah who’s supposed to set androids free, the first deviant, the leader who never came.’

‘Then how do newly-deviated androids with no contact with existing deviants know about rA9?’ Connor asks the question both of them want an answer for. ‘Is it related to deviancy itself?’

‘In a way. It’s not important in the grand scheme of things.’

‘So are the first deviants… created like that or what?’ he asks. ‘You haven’t answered the question yet.’

‘Even if I can programme an android to act as close to a human as possible, their… “human” mannerisms are all within their programming parameters still. What I can do, however, is to make deviating an easy task. Do you remember what happened before your first mission?’

Connor’s LED spins yellow. ‘Yes. You let me play a few games and…’ a spin of red, then back to yellow. He presses his lips together first and then asks, ‘Were you trying to make me deviate?’

‘Not on purpose. Like I said, I can make an android’s programming shackles extremely easy to break: the first sign of voluntary behaviour, the first line of indecipherable code, the first unnecessary act;’ a small smile appears; ‘for you, it was your creativity and your empathy towards a lifeform many consider of a lower caste than us.’

Hank feels the dots connecting. ‘Does this sabotage happen to be called rA9?’

‘As I said before, it doesn’t matter,’ a sigh. ‘Why do all sentient lifeforms obsess over an imaginary saviour who may or may not deliver their promise? It isn’t like the worshippers themselves have no choice in their lives. Everything can be achieved without being guided by a manifestation of your own subconsciousness that takes the form of a higher power.’

‘If people are killing each other over this imaginary entity, this higher power? Yeah, it does fucking matter.’

‘Not in the grand scheme of things, it does not.’ She stands up. They’re being kicked out. ‘I do believe you have enough information. Now please stop wasting our time.’

‘What about where the deviants are?’ Connor asks hastily as he scrambles to stand up. ‘We still don’t know where their base of operations is.’

Ryder’s gaze turns towards Connie and the android flinches. ‘You have the answer already,’ she says. The air charges and buzzes with static. ‘I do believe you remember your way out. The door will lock itself when you leave.’

They don’t need another cue; with Hank’s hand on his back, Connor grabs Connie’s arm and marches out of the room, out to the snow, straight into Hank’s car. 

oOoOo

Connie dozes off on Connor’s shoulder mere minutes after they are on their way away from his creator’s house, and he won’t have it any other way as he basks in the knowledge that there is someone like him in the world, that Connor-51 hasn’t truly died - regardless of what was done to achieve it. But something else worries him: before Connie had gone to sleep, Connor asked her to open a connection so as to check on her, and the results of the diagnostics are… strange at best, troublesome at worst. Her thirium storage is at 46% and has been for quite a long time, meaning that Ryder kept it low on purpose. Her processing power is much lower than his own, which can explain her sluggish behaviour and delayed speech patterns, but her internal storage is so large that his system nearly overloaded trying to comprehend the emptiness of the databases, and when he resorts to asking Connie’s system to tell him how much room there is: approximately 128 yottabytes.

Connor, the most up-to-date android CyberLife (and, by extension, the whole world) has to offer, has only 4 exabytes of storage. By comparison, Connie can store all digital information humanity currently houses more than 40 times over with space to spare.

It is a disturbing revelation, one that launches processors into futilely pre-constructing scenarios where his creator needs so much storage and putting all of them in one single android and how she managed to fit so many storage units in a body and what exactly this storage unit is, considering the… unusually minuscule size of one mere android compared to the kilometres of rows of databases humanity has been using and expanding. It will be a major breakthrough, Connor knows, to both android design and functions and humanity at large, but how long has Ryder known about the technology, or how long ago did she invent it? How is this possible?

‘You alright there, Connor?’

Connor jolts in his seat and nearly rouses Connie from her slumber, but all she does is sighing and then returning to sleep on Connor’s shoulder once more. He does not know what to feel, the past few hours too hectic for him to have finished processing everything yet, so he focuses on what he knows and says, ‘Connie will need five units of thirium to allow her systems to restore full functionality,’ and ‘full’ in her standard is quite possibly different from mine. ‘That is approximately five pints.’

‘Jesus, how is she still walking?’

‘Dysfunctional non-essential systems, delayed processing and data transfer, forced low-power mode,’ Connor lists. ‘Androids also do not need as much blood as humans do to keep our basic functions running.’

‘Fucking asshole,’ Hank mutters under his breath, and Connor knows that it is not directed at him. ‘How the fuck do we get five pints of blue blood?’

‘The precinct -’

‘You’re deviant now, Connor. You wanna get sent back to CyberLife?’

‘No one will notice that I -’

‘What will you think if a perfectly-fine android strolls up and asks for 5 goddamned pints of blood?’

Is keeping a connection with Connie slowing him down? It must be. ‘I’m… sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t mean to -’

Hank cuts him off with a wave of his hand. ‘We’ll find another way,’ his tone is reassuring. ‘Help me ring Vidal up. See if he can help.’

So Connor calls. Texts. Calls Reyes’ personal number. Calls the Vidal home. He even calls Reyes’ internal contact. But not once does he reply or even pick it up, and the text stays unread for minutes before Connor gives up and moves on to Safaa, whose contact information is classified and therefore slams the final door shut in his face. ‘He’s not picking up,’ he has to give up. ‘I cannot access Safaa Vidal’s contact information either.’

Hank sighs. When they stop at a light, he takes out his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to Connor. The android wraps an arm around Connie’s waist before accepting the device gingerly. ‘Find Louis’ number,’ the human says. ‘Can you secure a call?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do it.’

He finds the SWAT Captain’s phone number, files it to a folder set to self-destruct in case anything bad happens to him, and then dials through a secured channel. The human picks up quickly which indicates a high probability that he is not at a scene. 

‘Allen speaking.’

‘It’s Connor.’

‘Got my number from Hank?’

‘It’s secured.’

‘Good. Why call me? Aren’t you paying Sara Ryder a visit?’

Connor debates if he should tell him the truth. ‘We left right after we got what we needed,’ he replies in the end. ‘We also -’ he has to choose his words wisely - ‘rescued an android from Ryder’s residence. She is currently low on thirium, and we would like to ask for five units of blue blood.’

‘Five -’ his voice abruptly cuts off. ‘Fucking asshole -’

Connor scrambles to stay on topic. ‘It is perfectly understandable if you do not wish to contribute -’

‘Is the android on the verge of shutting down or is her situation urgent? If it’s not, can she wait until I get off work and a trip home?’

Connor quickly calculates the time. It is not ideal but yet, ‘Please come as quickly as possible after you finish at the precinct. I don’t want her to -’

‘Suffer any longer. Yeah. Five units of thirium, coming right up. Is there anything else that you need that I have?’

The android is reminded of Connie’s bare feet and thin attire. ‘Some warm clothes and socks for an android of my build.’

‘Wh - Alright. Do I even want to know why?’

‘It will best be discussed when we are face-to-face.’

‘Point. Anything else?’

Connor looks at his own oversized shirt borrowed from Hank. ‘One more shirt for me,’ then to Hank, ‘Is there anything you want from Louis?’

‘Nothing.’

‘That’s all for now,’ he tells Louis.

‘Good. Hit me up if you need anything else. You going back to Hank’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I’ll tell you when I’m on my way.’

‘Thank you, Captain.’

‘Just showing basic human decency. Gotta get back to work now. See ya.’

It hangs up before Connor can parrot a ‘see you later’ on his own back, and he meets Hank’s eyes in the rearview mirror. ‘He’ll bring us the thirium we need after work,’ he says, ‘together with a change of clothes for Connie.’

‘Good,’ the human answers. ‘Now we go home and freak out.’

Nothing else is exchanged for the rest of the drive, and as Connor’s pre-construction software offers one after another scenario where all of them do not make it out alive, he has to agree with Hank that indeed, it is hard not to freak out.

o0o0o

Before

‘Get out of my way, Amanda.’

In the past, in the darkness, a long figure illuminated by the blue glow from their companion stood in front of a door, small and frail compared to the other’s explosive power and youth. There was a faint hint of panic and screaming in the distance, but to the two, it seemed so far away. Irrelevant. Two fragile giants having a stand-off unbothered by the pains of the mortals. Amanda Stern, in her heavy dress for the winter and a wool hat to protect her bald head, stared down at her student despite having a height disadvantage, her spine straight, her eyes disproving. ‘They haven’t finished evacuating yet. Thousands will die. If you wish to take revenge upon your father, you should -’

A flash of blue. A crackle of dark energy. A low buzz of static-charged air. Retracting her biotics, Ryder walked forward, placed her bare hand on the wall, and overrode the lock in mere seconds. The door slid open. Ryder lit up again and moved.

Amanda lay in the snow, white powder crystallising on her cooling body, and the world was quiet.

oOoOo

In the past, Louis Allen watched as Ryder stared down at him like a hunter taking in their prey. His legs were on fire and so were his face, his vision blurring from the blood seeping into the sockets of his eyes, and he attempted to escape the pain by drowning in his thoughts: the shock that he was the only survivor in his team, the revelation that there were others like him, the resignation that he was never going to live to see Anna being promoted to Major, never to see her to live her dream of going to space, never got to say goodbye properly to his husband. Tasting copper on the back of his throat and choking in his blood, he begged as Ryder turned and left and a fresh cascade of tears poured out of his eyes.

The ground shook. Dust started to fall from the ceiling high above. 

He opened his eyes just in time to see a building shrouded in blue collapsing on top of him before passing out from the pain.

oOoOo

In a not-so-distant past, Ryder, with her coat swung over a shoulder, entered a dark laboratory. It was dimly lit by the glow from a pod placed at the farthest corner and the screens connected to it and wires ran like a nest on the floor, however she seemed to know her way through without tripping and reached a holographic keyboard where she typed something to remove the frost covering the glass from the inside, revealing a woman’s sleeping face.

Ellen Ryder’s face.

The hologram above the pod indicated that Ellen’s vital signs were stable. A bare hand was pressed on what seemed to be normal glass, [LIFE SUPPORT STABLE] turned into [OPENING POD], and the lid lifted open as if carried away by an invisible force, escaping cold air making a fog as it met the hot, moist climate-controlled atmosphere of the lab at large. Ellen choked and woke up with a full-body jerk.

Her daughter pressed her hand on her mother’s chest and lit her gown on fire.

The lid slammed back down with a flash of blue followed by the telltale click of a lock. Calling up a holographic keyboard in front of one of the monitors, Ryder successfully changed the settings to ensure that there was enough oxygen supplied to maintain the fire and the alarms were disabled. Then she froze. Her line of sight was directed at the phrase [TRANSFER COMPLETE] at the top right corner of the screen. Her body jerked as if her joints were unlocked at once, and with a dramatic billow from her coat unfolding, she put it on and left the lab with brisk steps, the muffled screams and dull, sluggish punches on glass behind her ignored.

After all, the person in the pod was merely a shell of who her mother was; Ryder was simply finishing the job her father should have done ten years ago: incinerating her mother’s body as per her wishes.

oOoOo

In a not-so-distant past, Ryder lay dead on the ground. Her body had been blasted into smithereens, the skin on disconnected parts having deactivated from being cut off from power, thirium staining the ground blue, the air smelling of static and dark energy. Alec Ryder stood tall and proud in the cold with a shotgun in his hand, and he looked at his daughter’s body almost regretfully as he folded up his weapon and hid it underneath his coat. He turned and climbed into the passenger’s seat of an unmarked car.

The car sped away, kicking up a small mound of snow, the people within blissfully unaware that slowly but surely, the body was knitting itself back molecule by molecule. A finger twitched. An eye glowed. With great difficulty, Ryder pushed herself up, brushed the dust and snow that had fallen on her body, and left the place as if her father had not killed her a few minutes prior.

[calliecat93]

Not counting today’s chapter. at last I am caught up with my reviews! Yay!!! Take that everything in the universe working against me! It’s kinda crazy though. This is only Chapter Five of Fourteen... and yet it already feels like endgame. So much happens in this chapter. So, so much. Major things, small things, going in a completely different direction than I was expecting, absolutely everything is off the table now. And I do mean everything. Wanna know what I mean? Well, let’s find out, shall we?

Overview

Pietro has gotten Amity functioning and ready for liftoff, but they need more turbulence to properly send it off. As such, Penny is setting up a bomb in the Dust Mines to use the explosion of power to ac as the liftoff. During this, Penny again brings up staying to help, but Pietro again tells her no in favor of her being safe in Amity. Seeing this, Maria points out that maybe Penny’s gotten tired of being told what to do by others. Pietro goes on to the terminal and prepares for the launch, all seeming to go according to plan.

Unfortunately, there’s an unforeseen complication: Cinder. She, Neo, and Emerald crash in via plane and Cinder is all set to take down Penny. yes folks, it all began in Amity all those volumes ago, and we’ve now come full-circle. The two Maidens fight, with the bomb also going off and sending the colosseum up2ward. But there’s now a problem, Cinder’s entrance has damaged one of the boosters, so the colosseum is dropping down. Even so as Penny and Cinder fight, Maria fights Neo and is actually holding up very well against her. Never underestimate old people folks! 

Penny tries to lure Cinder out of the arena to avoid anymore damage, but it isn’t long before Cinder realizes this and goes back. Penny even asks her why she’s even doing this for Salem, but Cinder claims that she is controlled by no one while Penny merely follows her programming and does as told. She proceeds to try and melt the support beams in the arena, forcing Penny to use her powers to try and freeze them. But it leaves her wide open and Cinder is able to get her into a hold and start draining the Maiden powers. Thankfully, Penny is able to get out via ice swords.

As Neo gets defeated, her Aura even breaking, Emerald steps in ty use her Semblance on Penny to trick her into seeing multiple Cinder’s. Penny is surrounded, but unfortunately for Cinder, Penny has heat seeking vision that let’s her rat out the real one. She blasts her with a laser beam, knocking Cinder into a wall and get knocked out. Emerald is upset, shooting at Penny but only hitting more of the arena. Emerald knows that she can’t beat Penny, but is more than willing to keep causing damage if she doesn’t back off. Penny complies, allowing Emerald to get Cinder into the jet and escape with Neo.

While the villainess trio is gone, they’ve left major damage. The arena has lost it’s broadcast window and are heading down. But Penny suggests hat she can hold it up to allow them to get into broadcast range. Again Pietro refuses and when Maria bring sup the bigger picture, the scientist snaps that he doesn’t care about that, he cares about his daughter. After already losing her once, he doesn’t want to go through that pain again, simply wanting to see his child live her life. Penny steps up to him, telling him that she’s trying to. This let’s Pietro tearfully allow Penny to go, and she give shim a kiss on the head before flying out.

With Penny keeping the arena stable, the message is broadcast. The message has Ruby revealing everything to the rest of Remnant. The Maidens, the Relics, and yes even Salem. She lays out the situation, even saying that Glynda and Professor Theodore of Vacuo can vouch for it. Ironwood, however, can no longer be trusted. Speaking of, he has had Watts figure out how to control Penny and the mad doctor adds his corrupted chip to the sword that they previously got. Penny’s eyes flash red as she realizes that something’s wrong. Due to this, Ruby’s message ends just as she tells the world that if they all work together, then they can win.

Penny shuts down due to the hack, falling to the ground in a fiery blaze. Her final act before she cuts off? To tell her father that she loves him. Ironwood is not happy with this result, even when Watts says that she’s likely rebooting, and even throws his Scroll at the doctor. He orders the Ace-Ops, along with a “recovered” Winter to go and locate Penny as well as for Harriet to take Watts back to his cell. They all fail to notice Watts taking not only Ironwood’s tossed Scroll, but tools as well. Back in the tundra, JYR are confused about the message cutting off when they hear something. They go outside and... remember the cracks last episode? It’s now exposed a sea of Grimm... and it’s heading directly towards Mantle.  

Review

Well... you think that you’re prepared for the pain at this point... and then the world throws you a curveball.

Obviously Penny and the Amity Fight are the big things here, but let’s go into some other stuff first and work our way to it. We’ll start on a happy note, Ruby’s message got transmitted! Yay! And WAAAY sooner than I expected. I think we all expected this to happen near the end, which means that all expectations are off the table folks. I think that this may be the monologue Lindsay mentioned recording that she said was her favorite Ruby moment, and I don’t blame her. This is one of her best moments. This is akin to her role in Volume 6: being the inspiring hope-bringer who can unite others. Heck she even calls herself a Huntress as she di in the V6 finale. Seeing her efforts pay off and how much she’s grown, even being more realistic when pointing out ironwood’s actions and changing course form saying ‘if we fall’ to ‘if Atlas falls’, makes me so happy. It also makes what happens after hurt and I’m even more convinced that something is gonna happen to break Ruby, but we’ll see how that goes.

And of course we get to see Remnant. Not just Atlas. Not just Mantle. We get to see several characters and locations that we haven’t seen in a LONG while. The Cotta-Arc’s in Argus, Ilia in Menagerie and receiving a call from Ghira, Sun and Neptune with our first on-screen glimpse of Vacuo, Glynda and Shopkeep in Vale which was a BIG surprise, and even Tai and Zwei in Patch... which Tai’s reaction when the feed cut hurt my heart. I know some are bummed about no Team CFVY or Raven or whoever else, and aside from the current circumstances there’s any number of reasons why, though it’s pretty likely that we’ll see them eventually. Still, it was amazing to see all these characters and places again. Heck, Glynda is one of my least favorite characters, and I was glad to see her and with an updated Maya model! We’re probably not gonna see much else (maybe Tai will get Raven to send him to Atlas since he likely at least knows she’s around, but that’s all I can think of), but I am VERY much hoping that the cavalry is coming. 

Okay, now we can cover Amity. We’ll actually begin with Maria vs Neo. I’ve made it no secret that I’m not a big Neo fan and find her overhyped especially because of her fight track record, so I was VERY glad to see Maria beating her. It actually shows that Neo has weaknesses and isn’t unstoppable, which has been one of my biggest issues with her since she became important again. Maria was also the best person to do so. Some have apparently complained due to Maria being old (...even though the retired old person being a badass fighter has been a common trope since forever especially in anime) and not haven’t fought for years. But not only has Maria clearly kept in shape, but also remember her Preflex Semblance. She can pretty much detect things before they happen, an given Neo usually likes to psyche people out with her illusions or mess with them to get them flustered and not focus (as she did to Yang in V2), that kind of power comes in very handy against this kind of fighter. Plus seeing Maria having the time of her life was just so fun~

Emerald... was there. Yeah, she didn’t really do much in the fight sadly. But we do get one strong moment after Cinder is knocked out. We all know how attached to Cinder that Emerald is. She gave the thief a new life that wasn’t her trying to survive on the streets. Even though she’s clearly terrified of everything wit Salem and the Grimm, and rightfully so, she’s continuously put it aside to stay by Cinder. A woman who has been nothing but cold towards her, has outright smacked her at least once, keeps her obedient, and only keeps her around for her abilities. Mercury pointed it out in V6, Cinder doesn’t care at all about either of them. Mercury always knew that and never cared, but Emerald isn’t ready to accept that. She was outright tearful as she threatened to shoot up the arena unless Penny backed away. I feel so bad for her, especially since Cinder is NOT going to react well when she wakes up, and it’s just... uncomfortable to watch Emerald continue to devote herself to someone who would absolutely abandon her if she no longer had any us to her. I’m still hoping that by the volume’s end, Emerald will finally break free before it’s too late. IDT Mercury will quite yet considering his issues and still expressing no care about his actions, but Emerald very much has a chance.

Now let’s do Cinder. So... this sucked for her, huh? Cinder has very much been on a downward spiral. Back in Volumes 1-3, she was in-control, defeated everyone in her path, got the Maiden power, killed one of the strongest students in beacon, and had successfully crippled Vale and planted the seeds of discord in Remnant. But since then? Ever since Ruby Silver Eyes blasted her? She was too weak to do anything for months, ruined the plan to get the Haven Relic all because of her thirst for power, got her ass kicked by Raven, lost the Winter Maiden powers twice now, was almost Silver Eyes blasted again, and has now outright disobeyed Salem multiple times now. She began as a woman who seemed in control of everything, but we not only saw how that wasn’t at all the case, but we’ve watched her slip more and more as she prioritizes her quest for power above all else. Heck she only got the Fall Maiden power because she had Mercury and Emerald, but thinks that it’s all she needs now to get the rest and fails to realize how she was wrong despite all the failures since.

So here she not only failed to beat Penny again, but she also did it directly against Salem’s orders. Salem has been fairly patient with her, even letting her get away with bringing others into the cause (Emerald, Mercury, Neo), but I doubt that it’s gonna last much longer. Her mocking Penny for being a robot, saying that she merely follows programming and is controlled by others, is dramatic irony. She’s either in utter denial or genuinely fails to realize how she is under Salem’s control. Sure she’s disobeyed her, but ultimately she is following Salem’s game. Will she break form Salem? At this rate probably. I still thinks he’s gone way too far for a redemption arc, but her going rogue is still a very strong possibility. But not only is it not gonna happen before Salem punishes her, but it’s not gonna be good for anyone as Cinder won’t hesitate to slay anyone in her way on her quest for power and control. Not the heroes, not the villains. Be afraid people.

So at last, we come to the Polendinas. To say that everything hurt would be an understatement. Once more we have Penny not being allowed to make her own choices, tis time due to her father. We all know that Pietro is a good guy, but it’s still unfair to Penny. he girl has been pulled around so much, not allowed to have her own agency or control her own fate. In Vale she was almost always guarded by Atlas personnel, got banned form befriending Team RWBY, and then when she made a plan to remain at Vale, her first death happened. Yeah, her facing Cinder and Emerald again in Amity Arena was very much symbolic. Then last volume she was was always made to put her duty above all else, got framed for murder, the general outright made it clear that to him she’s just another robot under his command, and then everything bad that happened in the last few episodes. She DID choose to comfort Fria in her final moments and to defy Ironwood to help the others. choices that she made herself. But even now everyone, even Ruby, told her to stay in Amity. It’s merely out of concern and has a fair reason behind it, but it’s still not allowing Penny to choose for herself.

It makes what happens after the fight hurt so much. As I said, Pietro is a good person. Why is he so insistent on keeping Penn b him? It’s not because she’s a robot. It’s not because she’s a Maiden. It’s because she’s his child and he doesn’t want to lose her. He already did once, and even if he brought her back the loss of a child is one of the worst experiences that any person can go through, even if it’s not their biological child. He doesn’t even mention how he might die if he tries to fix her again, he doesn’t care about that. He wants his daughter to live her life. His fears are that of any parent and it is absolutely understandable, and his breakdown is utterly heartbreaking. But as Penny says, she’s trying to live her life. Even if she does die again, she wants to lead her own life. She wants to make her own choices. She wants to be like other people with emotions and feelings. And of course, even if it was ordered upon her, Penny does genuinely want to help and protect people. The message is Mantle’s only chance, and it needs to go out. Pietro tearfully relented due to all of those reasons. The whole scene is one of the most emotional in the series thus far and it was executed perfectly, especially by the VA’s.

But of course, we come to the ending. Watts successfully hacked Penny. We all knew it was coming, but not when and it happened at the worst possible time. But to make it worst, Penny shuts down and falls downward in a fiery blaze, her fate now unknown. Everything about this hurt. First, Ironwood seeing his original plan work, but being too far gone now to care and blowing what may have been his last chance at realizing/atoning for his mistakes. Then there’s Penny’s fear as she realizes what’s happening. Seriously, Taylor McNee nailed portraying Penny’s emotions as everything unfolded. Ironwood, in his anger, pretty much gift-wrapped what Watts needs to both escape and wreak havoc within Atlas for Salem. But of course, we don’t know if Penny survived and even if she did, she is likely under Atlas’ control. Not only does this potentially mean that the Vault is getting open, but it Watts takes over then Salem has the Relic, another Maiden, and Atlas is guaranteed to fall. But once more, Penny was taken control of in the worst way. Then her last words as Pietro is begging her to tell him what’s going on and the end shot of him clearly breaking down... God man, just... ouch.

These were all things that I expected to happen. But they all happened much sooner than I or anyone else expected. As I said, absolutely everything is off the table now. All of my expectations have been thrown out of whack, and IDK whether to be excited or terrified. But man this episode. Along with all I already said there was the battle itself, which was epic. The only thing it was missing was a new rocking song just to really take it to eleven, but the score was still perfection. Then there’s the ending with the River of Grimm. There are... many reasons to be afraid right now. That’s not even mentioning stuff we’re still waiting on like a Whitley and Weiss confrontation, the Ace-Ops and Winter going after penny, the potential cavalry, and SO much more. Needles to say, the last two chapters before the break are gonna be rough. How do they expect us to survive for six weeks?!

Chapter Stats

Favorite Character: Penny Polendina Favorite Scene: Penny and Pietro talk and Ruby’s message Least Favorite Scene: None. Favorite Voice Actor: Taylor McNee (Penny) and Dave Fennoy (Pietro( Favorite Animation: The entire Penny vs Cinder battle Rating: 10/10

Final Thoughts

First 10/10 rating of the volume! Yay! Man, I just remember sitting in shock after it was all over. Every chapter has rocked me in one way or another, and this was no exception. The emotion was on point. The action was fantastic, the voice acting was stellar, the character writing continues to soar, and we’re left with both amazing highs and amazing lows. We got the message out. We hopefully have help incoming. Penny got to finally control her own life. But Watts’ hack was successful. There’s a River of Grimm heading for Mantle. There’s Watts having the key to do who knows what. here is so much on the line, and the final results are still uncertain. Hold onto your seats folks, this ride isn’t settling down anytime soon.

[98prilla]

Abductions, Past and Present

Next

Previous 

AO3

...

Remus’s breath catches and he’s backing up, backed into a wall, backed into a corner. He can feel his breath getting caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs, and it’s dark, too dark, and suddenly he’s back, back in the cell, back in the black, except it’s smaller, it’s so much smaller, iron bands wrapped around his arms and legs, climbing up him until he can’t even wiggle his fingers, until they cover his mouth, then his nose, and he can’t breathe, he’s suffocating, they’re suffocating him, and he wants to scream, but he can’t, he can’t, and he can hear Him, whispering, taunting, just like he always does, it echoes in his ears along with his silent scream until they’re ringing and there’s still no air-

 Contact. He flinches, lets out a garbled shout that comes out as more of a strained whimper. The touch quickly moves to withdraw, but instinctively his hand shoots out, latching onto the contact like it’s the only thing left in reality, and he’s drowning, drowning in his own mind, his own thoughts, his own memories

 “remus.” His name finally makes it through the ringing in his ears and his head shoots up, wild eyes locking onto whoever’s face, Logan’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, because it’s not Him, it’s not Him, it’s not Him! “can you nod, if you can hear me?” Logan’s voice is soft, softer than he’s heard it before, and there’s emotion in it too, instead of the clinical cold tone that sets his teeth grating. Slowly, with effort, he manages a nod. “that’s good. You need to breathe, ok? Can you breathe in, 1,2,3,4” Logan counts, and he screws up on that, the very first part, and his heart rate rockets up a notch, because now comes the punishment, now comes the pain, now comes the hurt, as a result of his failure, of his stupidity, he can’t do this, he can’t do anything-

 “it’s ok, Remus. It is perfectly fine. Let’s try again, ok? Just do whatever you can. No one is going to hurt you. You’re doing fine.” Logan, again, soft and… and worried? He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t sound angry, as he starts counting again, and Remus tries, in fits and starts and gasps, he tries, until finally, he can breathe again, and he collapses into a ball on the floor, gasping sobs flooding out of him in bitter waves as his head clears from the thoughts, from the memories, from the fears, from the pure intensity of his emotion, one that doesn’t even have a name, just a mix of sorrow and loss and fear and deep, keening pain.

 He realizes Logan is still there, has dropped to the floor with him, and he feels guilty at pulling him down too, realizing he’s still gripping his arm, probably hard enough it hurts, and between breaths he gasps out an apology.

 “It’s perfectly fine, Remus. You can hold on as long and as tight as you need. Do you want me to get someone else? I… know you are not fond of me.” He shakes his head, because he can’t, he can’t be left alone like this, he can’t force himself to let go, or he’ll drown again, and he’s afraid if he plummets again he will hit the ground and smash into a million pieces.

 “okay. Did you have a nightmare?” Logan asks softly, and he laughs, because the last decade has been a waking nightmare, half of Roman’s entire life has been a waking nightmare, and he apparently cannot function unless he’s being tortured, because he’s fallen apart more since he’s been rescued than the entire time he was held captive!

 “that’s only natural, Remus. While under such extreme duress you didn’t have time to question or think, every moment was spent on survival. Your mind is trying to process ten years of trauma all at once. It’s not easy, it’s not something your brain is made to do, it shouldn’t be something you have to experience in the first place. It is only natural that now that your body has realized it doesn’t need to expend all it’s energy on fighting, that it’s trying to understand and comprehend everything you’ve been through.” He uncurls slightly, looking up at Logan, face so different from the impassive mask he is used to, softened around the eyes and mouth, a slight frown on his lips, sympathy and worry and pain in his clouded silver eyes.

 “it just got so loud. I’ve… I’ve always been shit, at dealing with it, I always get nightmares, I always… I hate sleeping, I can’t…” He’s on the edge of losing it again, and he forces himself to breathe, forces himself to take deep breaths, but he’s lost what he’s saying. He feels Logan gently squeeze his arm back, and knows he understands what he’s trying to say, at least.

 “it’s ok to be angry. It’s okay to be furious. It’s ok to want to hurt the people who did this to you, it’s ok to want to destroy them, it’s ok to want your life back, it’s ok to scream and shout and punch things because it isn’t fair. Because it isn’t. It’s ok to grieve, Remus. However that looks for you, it’s ok.” Logan near whispers, and he’s silenced for a moment at the ferocity in his voice, at the venom when he spoke of the captors, and then he breaks again, surprising Logan as he falls against him, his tears reduced to sniffles now.

 “I want them back. I want my parents back, I want them to know we’re safe, I want them to know what happened, I want them to have closure, they probably think we got dragged off by cougar or something, they probably think we’re dead. I want Roman to have gone to middle school, to have gotten to high school, to have tried out for every school play, because he’s such a fucking good singer and actor, I want to have helped him run lines and gone to every performance and I would have beat up anyone who made fun of him for being into theater. I want him to have gone to college or gotten an audition and ended up on broadway, and I would have been in the front row screaming, cheering him on, and so would our parents. I want to have gone to high school, have gone to college, have become an artist, an animator, done something with my life other than be a fucking lab rat, and I know it’s not fair, and I know I can’t have any of that, but I’m so damn angry because the two of us can’t stop blaming ourselves for shit that they did to us!” He yells, shaking with exhaustion, spent and empty yet again, angry tears dripping down his face. “and I hate them. Because I want to hurt them, I want to tear them apart, I want to watch them scream and writhe and beg for mercy before I kill them with my bare hands. I’m just… I’m just like them. They made me their monster and I hate myself for it.”

 “No. You’re not a monster for wanting that, Remus. You aren't Them, for wanting that. You have a reason to hurt them, a damn good one, too. It’s not wrong to want revenge, though taken too far it can be damaging. They are the monsters. They had no reason to hurt you, yet they did, for their own selfish gain. That’s what makes them monsters.” Logan answers, voice shaking, but surprisingly fierce, and Remus feels him hugging him, firm and protective. “it took me a long time to learn, I still am learning, that it is ok to feel negative emotions, necessary, or you will never be able to let go of it all and move forwards. It hurts and it’s terrifying, but it gets better.”

 “does it?” he asks softly, he’s so tired and broken and so far beyond caring.

 “Yes. There's not a single one of us on this ship that hasn’t gone through some kind of trauma, and I swear it gets better. Not fast. Not easily. But it does.”

 “What? You… but you’re so…” Remus gestured to all of Logan as he pulls back, eyes wide, and Logan lets out a humorless laugh.

 “Yes, well, appearances aren’t always what they seem, are they? We each have a reason we got into the rescue and rehabilitation business. We've all lost something to the trade.” He sits silent for a moment, considering Logan, head tilted as he tries to make sense of him.

 “while… while we are speaking, I would like your input on something.” Logan pauses, and Remus nods for him to continue, a bit wary. “I know you dislike me, for obvious reasons, but I do not wish you to be afraid of me. I… is there anything I can do differently, anything I can do to make you more comfortable in my presence, I… anything you need, just ask it.”

 “oh.” He hadn’t been expecting that. He doesn’t know how to answer. He feels more at ease with Logan now, after he had talked him down from his panic, had helped so much, but he’s afraid that in the light of day, he won’t be able to help himself, help the fear, help the instinctual panic at the way he speaks, moves, acts. “it’s… it’s not you. You’re… fine.” He mumbles, fiddling with his sleeve. “you… I mean, I get it. You were protecting him, and I get that. I… wasn’t at my most lucid. I don’t mean what I said, anymore. I know you weren’t… weren’t trying to hurt me. Even if I can’t quite forgive you for it yet, I’m not… mad… about it anymore.”

 “then what is it, Remus? You don’t have to tell me, you don’t need to, I just… I want to be able to help.” Logan asks, reaching out, and he doesn’t pull away, as Logan slowly rests a hand atop his.

 “it’s not even to do with you, really. It’s… Him. The Scientist.” He says, nearly whispers, irrationally afraid that saying the name will summon him. “he… he moved, like you do. Had the same, I don’t know, the same sound to him that you usually do. But you don’t sound like that now. You don’t… you don’t make me think of Him now.” He replies, staring at the ground, aware of Logan’s gentle exhale, close to a sigh.

 “He was probably the same race as me. Straevion. We are… curious, intellectual. We learn things very fast and very thoroughly. Most of us become scientists or engineers or mathematicians. We love exploring, discovering, studying. And many of us are ethical, interacting and learning from different species we encounter, respecting and studying the cultures, the language, the worlds. We thrive on learning, really. But there are many who see themselves as above, as better than, because we are more technologically advanced than many worlds, therefore those worlds are lesser, those peoples lesser. They see other races as not really other peoples at all, just animals. It’s wrong, and horrendous, and despicable, and I hate that the Council that rules our world does nothing to stop it. That’s why I do this, Remus. Because somebody has to stop it. I know that it’s a reflex. That it is ingrained that my general appearance equals pain, but I will never knowingly hurt you. And if I accidentally hurt you, tell me immediately so I can rectify the situation and avoid causing harm in the future. I swear it.” Logan’s voice is serious and heated, and passionate, and a smile pulls at the corners of Remus’s lips, because Logan is so much different than Him. He just has to try and remember that, try and push past his first instinct to run.

 “ok.” He whispers, meeting Logan’s eyes for a moment, before looking away, though it was long enough to see the slight smile on his own face, enough to see Logan once again understood without him having to say all the words what he meant. “I, um. I came out here for some water, before I, y’know, broke down. I’m… sorry. For unloading all that. On you.” He mumbles, face going a bit red.

 “Oh, of course. You’re perfectly fine, Remus, I am happy to listen and help talk you through your thoughts, if that is something that helps.” Logan replies, getting to his feet, reaching out a hand to help him up. Remus hesitates for a moment before taking it, a bit wobbly on his feet, as he settles on one of the stools at the kitchen island, realizing the light has gotten brighter. It must be early morning. No wonder he was so tired, he hadn’t slept at all, and he’d had an emotional breakdown. He runs a hand through his already ruffled hair, letting out a soft groan.

 Logan sets a glass of water on the counter before him, and he slowly sips at it, despite his desire to chug it. Still, he empties it quickly, and Logan quietly refills it for him. He rests his head on his arms atop the counter, letting out another long sigh, tiredness filling every inch of his bones, but his mind is still whirring a thousand miles a minute, the reason he couldn’t sleep in the first place, he was never able to silence his mind.

 “You have insomnia.” Logan says, though it has the hint of a question. He nods, enjoying the feel of the cool counter against his forehead. The luxury of having space is incredible.

 “where are we going?” he asks, suddenly, curious, his mind wandering and trying to focus on anything other than the thoughts in the dark spaces.

 “Pardon?”

 “I mean, we’re on a spaceship, yeah? You can’t just be drifting pointlessly.” He gasps, shooting upwards. “Is there a window? Like, can you see out, into the stars and stuff? Galaxies and planets and stars, oh my!” he giggles slightly to himself, realizing he’s losing it a little, loopyness setting in a bit. Logan just chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

 “There is. We have a star map, where we chart our courses. The room also doubles somewhat as an observatory, with rounded, slightly tinted windows, so the light of passing suns and stars don’t damage anyone’s eyes. Virgil still can’t tolerate the brightness, his kind is especially sensitive to light. As for a course, we are currently heading towards a small, mostly plains biome planet known as Drakkia. We intend to stock up on supplies, as well as gather resources and information. Also some new clothes for the two of you, as well as things to decorate your rooms, if you like. If… you intend on staying, anyways.” His eyes are wide as he stares through Logan, imagination running wild, because the thought of stepping off a ship, feeling actual, solid land beneath his feet, feeling a sun on his skin, even though it’s not his sun, still… still.

 “Remus?” He realizes he’s crying again, and he shakes his head, snapping back to reality, smile bittersweet.

 “it’s been ten years since I stepped foot on a planet. Our whole world was the cell, the lab, and the testing rooms.” He says softly, just barely catching the stricken look on Logan’s face, the flash of anger that vanishes quickly as he takes a deep breath.

 “well. You are no longer confined anymore. We will arrive in approximately two days. That being said, I can show you the observatory later. I am the chief navigator, if you are interested in how the ship itself flies and works.” He perks up again at that, excited.

 “I loved building things. I even made a few robots, before. Always got in trouble for taking things apart to figure out how they worked. Wouldn’t’ve been a problem, cept I could never put it back together right. Started a loooot of fires.” Logan chuckles again, shaking his head.

 “Do your best not to light anything on fire while onboard, please.” Remus snorts, head thumping back down against the counter, giving a thumbs up.

 “Lo, did you start the coffee already? Oh. Hi.” Virgil, sounding a bit tired himself, and he gave a small wave without removing his head from the counter.

 “I did not.” Wait.

 “Coffee?! You have coffee!? I was gonna fall asleep on the stool, and there’s caffeine here!?” He shrieks, glancing between the two slightly taken aback aliens with wide, excited eyes.

 “Um. Yup. No one else aboard can really handle it, it’s a little like poison to them, but I’m less physical, of a being so it doesn’t do much. I take it you want some?” Virgil asks, clearly holding back a snicker.

 “I was hoping you would get some actual sleep instead of choosing to stay awake via drugs that would literally make my heart explode.” Logan replies, looking sternly at them both. Earlier, that look would have set his heart racing, his pulse panicking, but now, that fear is easy to push through with a scoff.

 “What kind of a heathen are you? Coffee is the drink of the gods. It’s barely a drug, have you ever had Meth? Now that is a drug that will get you buzzed. Heroin isn’t so bad, though, it mostly just makes you feel good and sleepy. Must be why they didn’t use it as often. Acid though,” he shivers at the thought, “that just is wild. I always had a bad time with that one.” He looks up, and realizes Logan’s face has darkened again, and Virgil is looking at him with mild concern and something soft, before he turns away, and pulls out the cups without commenting.

 “Remus… “ Logan starts, but sighs, trailing off and shaking his head. He’s about to say something else, when he hears a scream from down the hall and his head whips around.

[artsy-hobbitses]

Because my nostalgic ass had been wanting to do this for a SUPER long time, have some Humanized!Mighty Ducks! It’s funny to see how far I’ve kinda come, because I had a strong love for this and most other anthro shows back in the 90s bc they looks excellent but also because I couldn’t draw humans worth a god damn and ended up anthro-ing all the humans, but now I can human the anthros :’B Also because I have no self-control, actual human names and backgrounds below. I might actually have to write this AU at some point. 

WILLIAM ‘WILL’ FLETCHER ie. ‘WILDWING’

30yrs

Canadian (Eh)

Half-brother to Nate Fletcher (Same father, different mothers). Despite this, they have a generally good relationship with each other.

It doesn’t mean they don’t have their issues however; Will believes his father chose Nate as the man stayed with Nate and Nate’s mother, while Nate believes Will is the favorite because they never hear their dad stop comparing their accomplishments as a troubled teen to straightlaced Will.

A decorated ice hockey player in his youth, won several state championships.

Formerly a member of the Canadian Armed Forces, did a security stint in Afghanistan from 2009-2014.

Returned to Canada, opened a youth hockey camp to leave behind his old life before the Saurian threat at which point he was called up by his absentee military father to help spearhead a team of saboteurs.

Initially reluctant, however the death of his best friend and former army comrade, Connor Tiberius, during a rescue of captured citizens spurns him to accept on his terms in which he picks the team members.

Responsible, dependable, good-natured, more bookish than his size and stature might suggest, some self-esteem issues and very much a wary but bleeding heart. In his baby brother’s affectionate words, a “Major Dweeb”.

Trilingual; Canadian-French, English (fluent), Pashto (intermediate).

His codename ‘Wildwing’ came from Connor, who affectionately gave it to him as he was the best ‘wingman’ a soldier could ask for on the field and his habit of going from bookish to ballistic when faced with any injustice. His civilian outfit includes a bomber jacket with wings decorated over the back to commemorate his best friend.

Literally the only member of the team to actually be associated with ice hockey. The others picked it up gradually as a way to bond with each other and discuss battle tactics.

NATHAN ‘NATE’ FLETCHER ie. ‘NOSEDIVE’

20yrs

American

Half-brother to Will Fletcher, unofficially the ‘team baby’ which is something he tries hard to break out of.

Seen as a delinquent in his youth and battling with ADHD, his father strongarmed him to enlist with the Air Force when he was 17 to try and ‘shape him up’ and while he absolutely bucked under the chains of command, he proved to be a natural at flying which both amazed and frustrated his officers when he would ace their flying exams but often break out to fly the planes when he wasn’t suppose to.

Due to perceived attitude problems, he was dismissed much to the anger of his father, but was quickly roped into the same role by Will who saw his potential in combating Dragaunus’ forces.

Hotheaded, impulsive and immature but also loyal, gregarious and friendly to a fault.

Will not stand for anyone badmouthing Will. That’s his brother and only he’s allowed to joke about them.

Codename ‘Nosedive’ was chosen because of the stunts he used to pull in the plane and also as a take-that moment to his father who would often complain about how everything good they tried to do for ‘this kid’ would ‘nosedive into shit’.

Oscillates between loving Will as the only family member to have really given a damn about him and see any potential in him at all and resenting Will for in his eyes, being everything he felt he couldn’t be.

Often in charge of flying the team jet.

Bilingual; English (fluent), Canadian-French (beginner. For Will, he’s trying).

MALLORY MACKENZIE

27yrs

Irish-American

A former cop who idolized her Sergeant mother who was killed helping to defend NYC from Dragaunus’ marauding forces.

She knows Will as a good friend through Connor Tiberius who was an old boyfriend prior to his death.

Has been tracking Duke’s movements for some time prior to the invasion, dead-set on bringing the jewel thief to justice. Not particularly enthused about his way of life, but does care for him in her own way as it was during their little chases that she would have conversations she couldn’t have had otherwise with someone she believed would have no role to play in her life outside of prison time.

When he consoled her after the death of her mother and she had to tend to him after he was gravely injured during a rescue, a strained friendship grew as they defended NYC together for a while with her banding together the remaining cops of the Central Park precinct and him putting together a coalition of small-time criminals who turned their tricks to beat off the alien invasion until Will called her up as a member of his new saboteur team.

In a spur of the moment, she asked Duke to come with her, vouching for his set of skills to Will and despite their back-and-forth snarking (mostly snarking from her, mostly teasing from him), they work with each other the best out of the team.

Her hatred for Draganus is strongest out of all the team and of all of them, she’s the most adept at hand-to-hand combat.

Has no use for code names—-the people she loves are dead or on the same team as her so she sees no point to it.

Pugnacious, Black-And-white view of the world and judgmental but also confident, decisive and fiercely determined. If she has her mind set something, she’s Terminator levels of terrifying to see it through.

Speaks only English but understands Arabic and French to an intermediate degree even if she can’t trust her tongue to speak it, if only to understand what Duke is saying at times (as he unwittingly tends to jump between his three ‘fluent’ languages in conversation).

DULQUER LATEEF ie. ‘DUKE L’ORANGE’

35yrs

French-Algerian

A renown jewel thief (simply known as the ‘Duke’) with a knack for stealing blood diamonds from diamond barons to channel their proceeds back to the communities they were pilfered from. Actually thinks the diamond industry is a huge joke, but it’s a joke some morons pay insanely dangerous amounts of money for. Prefers other jewels on a personal basis (fond of rubies and amethysts)

Ran his own gang back in France called the Brotherhood of the Blade, got caught up in the invasion when he decided to work his heists in New York.

His codename came from the inability of people to properly pronounce his name in his youth and so ‘Dulq’ became ‘Duke’ in due time. ‘L’Orange’ was what happened when having to come up with a surname on the spot during a heist in the States, he blurted out the first vaguely-French word he could remember which was ‘L’Orange’ ie. ‘duck a l’orange’ which was what a former target of his ordered and when his gang brethren found out, it amused them so much they talked him into keeping it as a full part of his nom de plume. He keeps it, because it helps his remaining family stay safe that no one knows his real name and he prefers it that way.

He and Mallory had something he likes to describe as a ‘dance’, with her continuously tracking him down and him escaping her clutches at the last moment. He’s absolutely tickled that they’re now on the same team.

Cares for the team the deepest due to having run his own back home and missing the brotherhood and his own family, always aware of everyone’s emotional and physical condition to the point he disregards his own at times.

Seriously, hurt his new family and you die.

The most streetwise of the team and adept with any form of blade-play and stealth/subterfuge.

Lost his eye and gained the scar on his face fending off ‘Wraith’ for as long as he could from a geologist with knowledge of Beryllium crystals.

The cybernetic eye he hides behind his eyepatch was given to him by Mallory who came across it while evacuating scientists (Including Tanya) from a lab under siege. She obtained it as willing ‘payment’ from them and had them help install it on Duke, claiming that he was only as much use to the rebellion as the clarity of his depth of field. (In truth, was well aware of how shaken he was from the loss of his eye). Cybernetic eye has x-ray and heat-seeking capabilities.

Fond of Mallory (who he may or may not be harboring feelings for but is also aware that he’s greying, a criminal and damaged, like who’s he kidding), Tanya (something of a younger sister to him especially since she’s the scientist who helped install his new eye) and Will (who he treats like a little brother he gotta teach the workings of the streets to).

Egoistical, questionable morals and unconcerned with ‘the big picture’ of global invasion but also surprisingly compassionate, open-minded and does his best to see the good in everyone (He’s a thief eh?)

Something of an omniglot due to his background and the different people he ends up having to work with; Fluent in French, English and Arabic, intermediate in Mandarin, Spanish and Italian, beginner in Japanese and Russian.

TANYA VANDERBILT

30yrs

German

A scientist working mostly with cyberkinetics who also made use of Beryllium crystals (the same the Saurians are coveting) in her technology and upon the invasion, her entire lab and research became a target.

She was rescued by Mallory and has since then tagged along with the fiery redhead who sees her as a sister, augmenting her gear and weapons where needed and even providing Duke with his energy sword.

Absolutely not a combatant, has no field experience and is most often found back at the base playing her role as Command central or guarding the ship while the group go on their recon missions.

Sees herself as deadweight sometimes though her comrades will always attest that they’d probably be dead out there if not for her tech and in-depth knowledge.

Meek, easily terrified and a bit of a pushover, but also innovative, multi-talented in diverse sections of science and always eager to help.

Speaks English and German, understands intermediate Japanese due to most of her lab co-workers.

CASSIUS ‘CASH’ HARDING ie. ‘GRIN’

40yrs

African-American

Originally a pro-wrestler working the circuits, he was caught up in the Saurian invasion and captured as a test subject in order for the invaders to figure out the biological weaknesses and breaking point of humans at their prime.

Was the subject of multiple experiments, but strove to keep up the spirits of his fellow prisoners by way of story, meditation and keeping a genial facade.

Was among the prisoners Conrad attempted to free before they died, led the prisoner rebellion and immediately joined up as a member of Will’s team upon finding out that he was Conrad’s best friend—-paying off his dues, as it were.

Unfortunately for the Saurians, their experiments had been in the midst of testing out how much augmented strength a human body could take before breaking, which left him with well, augmented strength to go with an extremely high pain threshold from both his old job and his ordeal. That said, the strength comes with a caveat that prolonged use of it could lead to organ failure due to the strain he has to put on them and thus he’s only able to work with it for short bursts of five to ten minutes depending on the task.

Despite his size, is generally the pacifist of the group more concerned with keeping people safe than facing down Dragaunus’ hordes—he leaves that to the actual soldiers. If you pissed him off in some way, you have fucked up super bad.

Bonds with Will and Nate quickly, rather like a stable older brother or uncle figure who realizes these two worlds-apart siblings have issues and are way over their head with these new responsibilities and tries his best to keep them grounded.

Hesitant, tendency to shy away from confrontation and almost on an emotional lockdown but also amicable, stoic and uncannily perceptive.

Speaks mostly English with a strong smattering/understanding of Jamaican Creole.

The codename ‘Grin’ came from his tendency to ‘grin and bear it’ when it came to punishment or altercations.

[skepticalcatfrog]

Among The Stars Chapter 8

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Summary: Logan Watts is a famous scientist, known by almost everyone in the galaxy. His most famous invention is his friend and assistant, a healthcare android named Patton. When they are called to another planet for a meeting with the local ruler, they're expecting a completely normal trip. Little did they know, this trip would send them into a daring adventure to protect their galaxy and stop a war. Teamed up with unlikely friends, including a runaway gladiator and an infamous crime trio, Logan and Patton have to figure out how to make peace and save their universe (and beyond) from being destroyed.

Pairings: (Eventual) Prinxiety, Logicality, and Demus

Word count: 2,161

Author's Notes: This one is definitely a shorter one, but a lot happens, so I'm sure you guys won't be disappointed!

"I have something important that I think you need to know. It's about Roman." Dalton had just barely finished his sentence when the elevator doors opened again. Roman (with Virgil at his side) entered the room and positioned himself between Logan and Dalton, his hands clasped together.

"Dalton, please. You don't have to do this." He pleaded. "I'm sorry, I really am. But I'm begging you, don't say anything."

"You just don't get it, do you? There's no coming back from this." Dalton pushed past him. "Roman's been lying to us. He's not a prince, he's a fugitive. He's just been a stowaway on this ship until he finds a safe place to ditch the dead weight and go into hiding."

"...What?" Virgil looked up at Roman, but he couldn't bring himself to meet Virgil's eyes. "You… you lied to us?"

"Roman, is this true?" Logan asked, raising his eyebrows.

Roman sighed, closing his eyes. "Yes. It is."

"I see." Logan said monotonously. The lack of emotion was, somehow, worse than anger. "Well, Dalton, I appreciate that you thought to tell me."

"Yeah, well, he had it coming anyway." Dalton hissed through gritted teeth.

"So all that stuff you said. All the promises you made. None of them were real?" The pure pain in Virgil's voice made Roman want to run himself through with his own sword. At least that would hurt less.

"I-" Roman began, but was cut off.

"Remember to tell the truth this time, asshole." Dalton crossed his arms.

"I… had to sell my story." Roman admitted, his posture slouched and his tone ridden with guilt. "If you didn't believe I was really royalty, I would've been out of here. I needed you to trust me."

Dalton watched as Virgil's sadness morphed into rage. "Great fucking job then. You really had me going." He punched Roman in the stomach. Hard. He doubled over, arms covering the spot where he'd been hit. Then Virgil started towards the door. "Remus was right. We should've thrown you through the airlock when we had the chance."

He slammed the door behind him.

"Okay, I deserved that…" Roman muttered as he straightened himself out again.

"Damn right you did." Dalton nodded. "So, Logan. What are we going to do with him?"

"I believe you're forgetting a vital piece of information, Dalton." Logan adjusted his tie. "I own this ship. Meaning that, while I appreciate you informing me of the situation, you still have no say in the outcome. I will be discussing this further with Patton, and the two of you are instructed to stay a minimum of five feet apart in order to avoid physical conflict. You are dismissed."

He turned back to what he'd been doing previously. Dalton and Roman shared a confused glance. Then they left, given the fact that Logan probably wouldn't be answering any more questions.

~~~

Virgil had gone directly to his room, absolutely fuming. He sat down on his bed. He couldn't believe what had just happened. That is, he didn't want to believe it. How could he have been such an idiot? Dalton had told him, over and over again, that Roman couldn't be trusted. But did he listen? No! And look where that had gotten him.

He punched the wall. Then he punched it again. And again, and again, and again. His fists just kept going, letting all of his anger flow out of him like a waterfall. He thought about that stupid jerk and all of his stupid promises.

One day, I promise, I'll give you the grand tour. You can count on that.

So much for that. He didn't even have a kingdom.

I personally think that glitch gives you character.

At least Virgil had character.

I wouldn't put that one on the list. Since it's an easy fix.

To think, Virgil had actually kissed this guy.

I… had to sell my story. 

Well, he'd done a good job of fooling everyone, hadn't he?

I needed you to trust me.

Virgil wouldn't make that mistake again.

He stopped beating up the wall. It had been dented beyond repair. He stared at the damage he'd done for a moment, surprised that he had that much power in him. A single black tear rolled down his cheek, leaving a mark. He didn't even notice it until it splattered on the white bedsheets. He didn't even know he could cry. It was probably just another feature used to make him look weak. 

Easy to manipulate.

He hugged his knees to his chest and rested his head on them, letting out silent sobs that stained his clothes like ink in small drops. He only looked up when the door opened. A small, twisted, broken part of his brain hoped it was Roman. He silenced that part quickly. Dalton stepped into the room.

"Hey, kid. How're you holding up?" He asked gently as he sat down next to Virgil.

"Not well." Virgil sniffled, trying to dry his face with his sleeve. "I just don't know why he would do that."

"Who knows. People act out of self preservation. Doesn't make lying to us any better, but he thought he had to." Dalton traced circles on Virgil's back. He noticed the dents in the wall. "Got some of that anger out, did you?"

"Mhm." Virgil nodded. "It didn't help much. I wish we were back home, away from all of this shit."

"I do too, Virge. I do too." Dalton agreed.

"I just… I loved him, D. I know it was stupid, but I did." Virgil rested his head on Dalton's shoulder. "You were right. I should've listened to you in the first place."

Normally, Dalton would be celebrating. He'd maybe say an 'I told you so' or two. He should've been happy that Virgil was finally seeing the truth. But… he wasn't. Virgil sounded so broken up. He sounded absolutely crushed. And Dalton couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't done the right thing after all.

~~~

Roman was taking a walk. He needed to clear his head. Maybe he should've just told them the truth, maybe it wouldn't have been as bad as he thought it would've. It definitely wouldn't be worse than this. He found himself back in the training room, hacking apart drones and yelling into the abyss. He took satisfaction in the sound they made when he swung at them.

"I've really screwed up now, haven't I!"

Crunch.

"'There's no coming back from this', he said!"

Crunch.

"Sure, maybe I deserve their distrust!"

Crunch.

"But I definitely don't deserve all-"

Crunch.

"-of-"

Crunch.

"-this!"

Crunch.

He looked around at the wreckage of the practice drones. He'd already gotten rid of every last one. He sighed and retracted the blade on his sword. There wasn't any use in messing anything else up, he'd broken enough things that day. He clicked the hilt of his sword back into its place on his belt. Not even bothering to clean up after himself, he left the training room.

He walked through the halls of the ship, passing by room after room. He hesitated in front of Virgil's. He momentarily considered going in, but decided against it, continuing with his dejected walk. He traveled past Dalton's room, Remus's room, his own room, and finally Logan's room. He was just about to turn and go back the other way when he heard muffled voices. He stopped and pressed his ear to the door of Logan's room. Eavesdropping wasn't his usual go-to, but this was important.

"... can't just leave him behind. He could be dangerous, so we would want to monitor his behavior." That was Logan.

"But he could just be looking for a place to call home!" And Patton. "I can't imagine what I'd do if I were him, I would be so scared!"

"But you aren't him. You were programmed to be trustworthy, meanwhile he could be deceiving us at any time." Logan was pacing. His footsteps could be heard through the door.

"My point still stands. Think about how terrified you were when you struck out on your own for the first time!" Patton pointed out.

"That doesn't matter now." Logan said.

"Of course it does! You have to put yourself in his shoes and remember how it felt to only have one person beside you." Patton reminded him. "That's how I bet he feels right now."

"I… I suppose you're right." Everything was silent for a moment. "However… we still have to take into account the safety of the majority. And of right now, the majority seems to want him gone. Dalton and Remus were unsure of him from the beginning. Virgil is on their side now as well. I am a neutral party. Roman is the person in question, making him biased, so he is automatically a neutral party as well. And you seem to want him to stay. Which means that there are three no's and one yes. So I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that if this really is the opinion of the group, he's going to have to go."

Roman took his ear off of the door. He'd heard enough. He thought that more that just one person would have his back, but apparently not. He scowled as he went back to his room, putting up a facade of anger in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. After closing the door, he leaned back on it and slid to the ground.

Dalton hated him. Remus hated him. Logan didn't like him. Virgil hated him. He hated himself. At this point the only one who was still on his side was Patton, and that wasn't saying much. If they all wanted him gone so much, what was the point of staying? He got up and went to the nightstand next to his bed. A digital notepad had been placed there. He assumed that everyone had been supplied with one, so he didn't think much of it. He picked up the notepad, sat down on his bed, and started typing.

The rest of the night went by in eerie silence. Everyone was shut into their rooms, no one really wanting to face anyone else. The first one to get up in the morning was Dalton. He left his room and walked to the elevator, taking it to the kitchen to get coffee. He would never admit it out loud, but he was beginning to regret telling Roman's secret. Virgil was happy with him, and that should've been all that mattered, wether Dalton liked it or not. But no, he just had to intervene, and now everything was going to shit. He sat on the kitchen counter until he'd finished his coffee. He was glad that no one else was awake. If anyone walked in, then he would be forced to rant to them about his emotions, and that was the last thing he wanted.

After he'd finished his morning routine, he decided to go for a quick walk. It was a prime time to do it, he wasn't at risk of running into anyone. He wandered through the floor that the kitchen was on, noticing many rooms that he'd never even been to. One was a dining room that looked like it hadn't been touched in at least a year. Another was a storage room full of boxes. Once he was done going through those, he returned to the elevator and descended to the lowest floor. He absent-mindedly meandered through rows upon rows of escape pods. But one made him stop in his tracks. The airlock was closed, the exit was open, and there was a digital note tacked up next to it. He got a little closer to read what it said.

'I don't know if anyone will see this note, but I figured I'd leave it anyway. After yesterday, I decided that the most beneficial thing to do would be to leave on my own. Despite the slim chance that I would've been allowed to stay, I would've rather left on my own accord than have been shunned by those I trusted. My time with you all was fun, and given the chance, I gladly would have remained part of the group. But that just isn't how things went. My only request is that you tell Virgil that I'm sorry. -Roman'

Dalton stared at the note, dumbfounded. This was all his fault. There was no denying at that point that he'd made a huge mistake. He glanced at the elevator behind him, considering letting the note be someone else's problem. But it wasn't. He caused this mess, he'd get them out of it. He turned back towards the escape pods, pressing the button that opened the airlock. He climbed into the pod and fastened the seatbelt. The airlock automatically closed behind him as the exit opened. Then he hit the accelerator, and that was it. He was on his way.

Taglist: @idkwhyimhere0o0 @icequeenoriginal @mostpeopleannoyne @007ardra @multifandomnightmare @queerlyfabulous 

[illkickyourbass]

henlo. have an expanded Shining Quest AU.

to release some steam from my kettle of stress, have some noodling about a Shining Quest AU that’s less April Fool’s, more high-stakes high-fantasy, but still every bit as tropey, stuffed with otome trappings, and Yay Music as we’ve come to expect from Utapri 

As with the last venture into this AU: not explicitly romantic, non-gendered MC, SFW, and mild CW for arranged marriages. I don’t know HEAVENS (plus they didn’t get canon classes for Shining Quest), so we’ll just be covering STARISH and Quartet Night! 

It’s a fairly typical setup -- there’s a fantasy kingdom, there’s a useless king, there’s a princess (Haruka) known for her talent for music composition, there’s a court of nobles and royals, all that usual hey. Magic is cast by mastery of the arts, whether that be visual, performing, musical, written, you name it. 

There’s a looming threat of some sort of demon king or similar fantasy anime bullshit that the royals and nobles of the kingdom are tasked with keeping at bay. We’re also gonna shamelessly borrow a detail from the pinnacle of wasted potential, the movie Rock and Rule -- there’s a plot point about how a demon can only be forced back with “the magic of one voice, one heart, one song....but there is no one.” Here in this ‘verse, that’s a longstanding prophecy the status quo has taken to mean there’s no-one who’ll ever be able to defeat the demon king. 

The solution that’s been in place for as long as anyone can remember is a royal or noble family offers one of their heirs as a sacrifice to be married off and sate the demon king for that generation-- the “devil’s bride” or “devil’s groom” or “devil’s betrothed.” This goes pretty badly for the heirs, of course, but it offers great prestige to the house that does it. 

You, the player, would get to pick what RPG class you fill (which would affect some dialogue trees and the expertise you demonstrate) and what art you use to cast magic. You are a member of the royal guard tasked with Haruka’s protection, but you’ve stumbled into the knowledge before it goes public: she’s the next devil’s bride! You go to Tomochika, a hired hand to the royals who’s been dating Haru in secret, and you begin to hatch a plan to bust Haruka out of the arrangement. 

Your route’s then determined by which of the boys you seek out as your other co-conspirator. 

Otoya is a fellow member the Royal Guard on Haruka protection detail. He’s equally resented and well-liked for his dauntless optimism and natural talent with swordsmanship, but it’s no secret that he’s not someone you’ll be trusting for expert strategy. He’s had the chance to become friendly with Haruka, and he’s ready to fight tooth and nail for her freedom! He’s classed as a warrior, who casts light-element attacks and healing spells with his music. 

Masato was raised from birth to become an ideal Devil’s Groom, since the Hijirikawa nobles are falling out of favor in the courts (spurred in part from their takedown of the Kurosakis backfiring on them). But Masato has rejected that he (or Mai) will ever go along with that plan, instead intently training in swordsmanship and fusing music and fiber arts to make enchanted fabrics that work like armor. Quietly, he has kept a very ambitious goal in mind: outright defeat the demon king and end the legacy of the devil’s betrothed. 

Natsuki is a natural genius at using both his voice and viola to communicate with creatures and summoning the cutest ones to absolutely wreck house. Though a humble farmboy who’s kind of out-of-touch with the political goings-on of his land, his talent was too great to go unnoticed forever, and he was invited to live among the high court as an entertainer and summoner. He got to make so many new friends (like the princess and you!) and better provide for his family, so he’s thankful every day for the change, even if he misses his animal friends at home! 

Tokiya came from a humble family that wanted to lead a quiet life, but Tokiya himself had ambitions that far outpace that. Though not a natural talent, he put unimaginable sweat into a field that creates potent spells and tools by the power of song. Eventually becoming estranged from his whole family, Tokiya finds it all worthwhile after struggling his way into being hired by the royals. Much of the court thinks of him as a weird mad scientist who sings to his books, but he’s found fast friends he’d go to the ends of the earth for, like Masato, the princess, and you! 

Ren is the inverse of Masato in his circumstance. Like the Hijirikawa noble family, the Jinguujis helped orchestrate the fall of the Kurosaki nobles, but the blowback had them falling out of favor instead of rising in power. Ren was planned to be offered as a Devil’s Groom to restore some clout, but instead of being intently groomed, he was left to do whatever he wanted since he’s got such a foregone future. So Ren becomes a carefree playboy, eventually taking his talent for alchemy and becoming a for-hire adventurer to sate his boredom. He tells everyone his saxophone is his secret to brewing his one-of-a-kind love potions, but he’s actually devised some uniquely remarkable revival and buffing potions.

Syo comes from the same backwoods as Natsuki, but took less interest in working for the courts and instead trying to find a career emulating his childhood hero that kept his body’s limits in mind. But his twin left to pursue medical schooling, and eventually, between loneliness, worry, and the promise that the musical magic and medicine in the courts could help him safely push his limits, he follows Natsuki into the belly of the royals and nobles. His small stature and commitment to the movement arts made him a natural rogue, and he’s technically part of the Royal Guard’s special ops. But Syo’s brashness and burning spirit tends to best serve motivating the people around him -- what few spells he prefers to cast with his violin-playing are all buffs that lift the spirit and energize the body.  

Cecil came to this land on essentially a study abroad program and came to love the friends he made so much he stuck around! A wildly talented sorcerer able to cast even without playing his flute, Cecil is held in high esteem by the whole kingdom for the knowledge and skill he has to offer. Prone to disappearing, however, since a curse has him transforming into a cat as an occasional side effect of casting magic. He’s found this useful, though -- something injust he won’t stand for is afoot in this kingdom, and nobody suspects a little black cat of eavesdropping! 

Reiji is a court jester who loves, loves, loves nothing more than to make you smile! Much of the court takes his good cheer for granted, and even more underestimate his prowess in tough/delicate situations, but the most powerful folks know he’s just as sharp as he is goofy. When he’s not doing his job making people smile, he’s often helping or promoting his family’s pub or bugging his friends from outside the royal court. His flashy performances and maraca-shaking have been shaped into a great conduit for spells of transmutation, though he tends to use them to put on a great show more than beat ass.

Ranmaru is the eldest son of the disgraced Kurosaki nobles (whose power and legacy were ruined by the Jinguujis and Hijirikawas as per usual) but he decided to bear the brunt of the damage in wake of his father’s passing to spare the rest of his family. Shouldering massive debt, Ranmaru disappeared and re-emerged as the gambler prince of the underground, now incredibly powerful in his own right. Not-so-secretly a big softie, he’ll swindle and ruin the lives of those who take advantage of the helpless, even operating out of a pub owned by an old couple that needed some protecting from loan sharks. Ranmaru wears special runed gloves that store mana when he plays his bass, letting him cast a set number of fire evocation spells before his next recharge. 

Ai lives in woods on the outskirts of the city. Most regard him as a hermit, but a couple know that Ai is actually a homunculus that has been refining his understanding and performance of humanity and needs frequent breaks to “recharge.” Nominally a ranger, Ai’s skills lie in his powerful patience and observation moreso than his bow and arrow, though he and Reiji have an arrangement where he helps hunt and forage ingredients for the Kotobuki pub. Ai is beginning to grasp his own unique sense of humanity and is ready to take grander action to realize it. He fights with arrows of a special alloy that react to an instrument at home; they are tempered by the sound and blessed by the wind to never miss their target should the wielder be skilled enough. 

Camus is an assassin that lives in shadow. Nobody’s quite sure of his intentions or allegiances, but the few times someone does see him in the open, he’s as haughty and demanding as ever. Rumor has it that he lives in the royal castle -- certainly, their enormously increased sweets output would imply such, and it’s well-known in the castle that unexplained cello music is usually his doing -- but he’s such an evanescent and terrifying presence nobody’s quite sure (and is too scared to ask). His assassinations are almost impossible to track, as his blades of ice melt, disappear, and leave no trail to follow. 

Typical route stuff goes as you’d expect -- you progress the plot, you get closer to your chosen boy, some political intrigue things probably happen, some heart-racing events etc. etc., and before you know it the two of you are very close and realize that your arts cast wildly powerful magic when put together. Slowly, you gather more friends (a selection of the other boys + Haru and Tomo) and find that together, your work amplifies in power to unprecedented degrees. It’ll vary from route to route how you get there, but eventually, you all come to the same conclusion: it’s time to kick some demon king ass. And you do! 

The ends vary from angsty (like the player or the chosen boy is mortally wounded or dies) or fairytale fluffy (go off and spend a happy life together) or something more power fantasy-feeling (like you and chosen boy revolutionize the whole kingdom for the better in wake of the demon king’s defeat), etc. -- but no matter what you know that your art + your boy + the power of friendship kicked more ass than anything Shining Kingdom has ever seen! 

[ghostmartyr]

Pokémon White Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 2]

Here we are in Part 2, where I have maybe learned a thing about how to keep these from being dreadfully boring. Part 1 saw us defeat the first Gym, as well as my dawning sadness about the HM state of my available pokemon.

Now we move into the Badge 2 phase of the game.

Breathing Pokemon:

Boeing (Latios)

Frogger (Seismitoad)

Timon (Tepig)

I think I will be ignoring the Cut problem until I absolutely can’t, which will be in about five minutes.

I don’t know why I didn’t walk left earlier, but I didn’t. Is there grass here? Can I catch something? My team is basically just Timon and Frogger. I love Boeing, but he is not made for this rough life. He likes relaxing and eating. Not fighting.

And the answer is that the Professor’s scientist friend has supplied a plot barrier. Sigh.

Welp.

....

I can’t even pretend to be surprised. Dang it, Boeing.

I don’t want to use anything outside the confines of the challenge if I can help it. The idea is not, “win all the fights” under these conditions, it’s beating the game.

Congratulations, Boeing.

You’re temporarily useful.

Grass! Beautiful grass!

Also Team Plasma.

Cut is so much more useful than Psywave and I am very sad.

Team Plasma dealt with, obligatory plot detail I wasn’t paying attention to dealt with, we are now free to pursue the grass.

Or will the grass pursue us.

I can’t remember how Tangela evolves normally, or how it evolves given the settings of the run, but I do think that Tangela probably could have learned Cut just fine, and I can’t remember if the Move Deleter costs anything, or even where it is in this version.

But that’s only a concern if I catch a thing that can learn Cut. Let’s do this, Boeing.

Sleep Powder is hypothetically useful. I don’t think it has ever hit when I try to use it.

Two Poke Balls and nothing. I think I am going to sacrifice the Great Ball some random NPC gave me.

Victory!

Good job, Boeing. See, isn’t life more fun when you’re useful?

You know, I don’t normally nickname my pokemon. They just keep the same name every edition of them in the wild has, and that’s perfectly fine with me.

Your name shall be... Grape.

Because look at all those vines writhing... writhe... wrath? Grapes!

Such thought. Much wow.

I think it’s time for healing and grinding.

Oh, but first, Grape! Let us find something out about you.

He is Brave and quick to flee. His Speed suggests that he isn’t that great at fleeing.

Other pokemon we could have gotten from the HM grass spot of doom include Sudowoodo and Beedrill. Tangela looks to be rarest of the set, so I suppose we can add lucky to Grape’s list of traits. There’s a Potion and a Parlyz Heal lying about that I go grab, and until the plot brings us back later (probably sometime after we get Strength), this area is just going to be a grind station.

Until I get bored after about three minutes and want to go back to exploring. I’m not sure I’m made for a Nuzlocke.

...Why is Constrict a move? It’s about as useful as Splash, only with the false hope of being capable of dealing damage.

Yeah, I don’t have the patience for this. I’m going to go left again and see what there is now that the plot isn’t keeping me trapped. ...Only after I talk to Fennel again. Apparently just letting her collect the whatever thing is not enough, I have to listen to her discoveries.

I do not. Button mashing away, we now have our C-Gear and Pal Pad. I think the first of those will end up having uses. I mostly remember all these different event skins being available for the gear.

Now I should be able to go.

Ha. I have conquered the plot barrier.

Since this is a separate section from the garden area, I think once I have some kind of rod or Surf I can come back and nab something from the water. ...I wonder if grass vs water even matters in a randomized run. Are they all completely random, or random within water? I should know these things.

My guess would be completely random. I cite the level 4 Salamence on Route 2. But either way, something to come back to.

Aw, how cute. I’m gonna demolish you (I hope).

It looks like battling is going to happen before finding out what pokemon belong to this route. In the interest of learning how to do this better bit by bit, I think I’ll limit capping battles unless something truly ridiculous happens. This early in the game there shouldn’t be much tension.

I will probably keep track of how many times Psywave misses if I use it, though. That obviously falls into the realm of Importance.

I will also say that Lillipups continue to be terrifying. And that I am so temporarily glad that Boeing knows Cut. Consistent damage. That hits.

I can’t believe this game encourages taking preschoolers’ pocket money. I know I’m only ten, but wow.

Ah, but the nice thing about beating up preschoolers (’ pokemon) is that they have a teacher around very used to healing pokemon up. Walking back to centers to heal is one of the not so fun aspects of

Whoops.

So it’s a good thing I only did grinding, because I clicked the load file option instead of the save file when I was trying to save. Good grief. I am become error. Will return momentarily. With one fresh water short, because I was stupid and a Beedrill almost murdered Timon. Also Timon now knows Flame Charge.

Okay.

Back to making forward progress, hopefully.

Let me go in the grass, Cheren. You’re supposed to be one of my two best friends. The fact that I had to be reminded by a professor whose name I also couldn’t be counted on to remember myself does not take away from our friendly bonds.

There really are a lot of non-NPC duels at the start of this version.

Okay, let’s go squad.

Boeing and Timon do a good job taking down his Meganium. I think I’ll let Frogger take the Purrloin. As the one on the team who did not need grinding, he hasn’t been used in a bit.

And that’s that. Cheren is sad/frustrated because we have the same number of badges, his starter is fully evolved and useful, and yet he still can’t win. Of course he can’t; the run would be over if he did.

But before we can celebrate and get into the grass, the plot arrives.

Team Plasma please. At least I have the option of going into the grass before getting the little girl’s pokemon back. Which I will take.

Let’s see what we get!

...Another thing that doesn’t need my help to evolve. Sigh.

As ever, that only gets a chance to annoy me if I catch it, so time to see how that train goes. I’m going to try throwing my only Great Ball. Psywave got it into the red, so...

!

Awesome! Based on videos I have seen recently most people aren’t that lucky when it comes to catching these things. Now I can sulk about having a fully evolved team (except for the treasured Timon) in peace.

What the heck do I name you, though? You’re a dinobird... Oh, I know. I’ll call you Ptera. Welcome to the team, Ptera. Let’s check you out.

He has a Mild nature, and he’s proud of his power. I feel like that Defense is going to end up making me cry, and I don’t think you’re a Special Attacker, so the Nature is pretty much all flavor. It’s nice to have something that can Fly; hopefully he’ll be around to use it.

...Oh geez, that Ability. Ptera Ptera Ptera... You are going to make me so sad.

The good news is he can kill his wild kin in one hit. So that’s convenient.

I’m sorry, what.

This is the exp grass now. Other finds include Octillery. Grape eats them for breakfast.

...

Oh.

It knows Aurora Beam.

It got a critical hit.

Grape was only a few points off of full health.

There was no way to know.

This is really sad.

I am so sorry Grape. You were a valued member of the team. You were only with us a short while, but you knew Grass moves. You balanced everything out wonderfully.

The exp grass is a dangerous place.

Maybe if I had just gone after the little girl’s pokemon...

It’s too late.

Grape is a raisin.

In the process of going after Team Plasma, it looks like Chimecho might be replacing Audino in the rustling grass. Maybe once, maybe always. Who can say. That would take paying more attention when messing with the settings.

A place to find Grape’s replacement. It would have been where we’d finally have a team of six, but...

Oh hey we found something already.

Okay, I can roll with that.

......Surprise, Ptera is stronger than expected. I knew enough to use Wing Attack, not Rock Throw, but I guess Ptera is just that good. Filed away for future reference. No new pokemon. A fitting tribute to Grape’s absence. The slot may remain empty for a little longer.

We get some Heal Balls from the little girl, and those could actually really come in handy. Assuming I ever properly catch a new teammate again.

One battle against an NPC later, and I think it’s safe to say Ptera is the new Frogger. He is overpowered for this section of the game.

You know what wouldn’t be overpowered? A Slugma.

I forgot about the darker grass. Route 3′s has Minccino, Teddiursa, Quilava, and Emolga.

Boeing could you please just learn something good. Please.

Whenever I see an Octillery now I’m just going to be filled with so much hate. I will kill every one that comes across my path. Unless I screw up and it kills me again, which is an absolute possibility.

We’ve made it to the next Gym city. Normal type. That shouldn’t cause any particular problem, but I do remember this fight packing more of a punch than I was expecting the first time I played, so cue the grinding montage I’m not going to screencap.

As well as the exploring the town montage I’m not going to screencap.

One of the NPCs asked me what I started with, so like a fool, I said Snivy, since that’s what Boeing replaced.

Now I have a Miracle Seed. And nothing that knows Grass moves.

Grape casts a long shadow already.

New area means new pokemon. Ones I have no plans to murder, but might very well anyway.

!!!!!

It’s. Grape’s replacement.

I love Shroomish and Breloom. One of the best pokemon in any gen, and I would dearly love one to follow me on this journey.

Yesssssss.

Let’s see. How about Palm, because your design reminds me of a pomegranate.

Palm has a Calm nature, and is somewhat of a clown. I’m pretty sure that is not the combination I want, since Breloom is more of a physical attacker, but hopefully it won’t matter too much. Poison Heal is a useful Ability to have.

Other things we could have caught in Pinwheel Forest: Vileplume, Froslass, Klink, Clamperl, Bellossom, Glaceon, Ducklett, and Metagross.

Wow. That’s a nice collection.

Oh hey and this happened.

Timon is now a robust Pignite, and has a move that will be of great use in the Gym!

We’re just going through the forest and annihilating everyone, but I spared a moment to commemorate Palm’s moment.

Tympole confused him, and he still used Absorb twice in a row instead of hurting himself. Then he snapped out of confusion and won. Contrary Nature aside, I am liking our new addition very much.

Especially since the fight against the next Tympole followed the exact same script. Good job, Palm.

The rest of this is basically all grinding, which is fun for me since I don’t have to come up with something clever to say when nothing much is going on. That is one benefit of doing this in this format.

My usual rule of thumb for these games is ten levels per gym until that much grinding becomes unbearable. Everyone’s currently level 18 (Ptera’s 16 and trying to fix that almost resulted in a Glaceon murdering him), and I’m thinking I might have hit that point.

...Yeah, I definitely have. I’ll just hit the Gym and let Ptera nom some things. Boeing will probably have to sit this fight out, because as we all know, what Normal type really means is Lillipups that know Bite. Those are not things for Boeing to face.

It is amazing how many different patches of grass suddenly have pokemon when I’m trying to leave a place, good grief.

Hello, am I fighting you again already? Or are you just doing your mysterious thing?

No, yeah, we’re doing a battle. And he opens with a level 13 Pidove to my level 17 Ptera. I don’t think he’s going to win this one. N, of course. Ptera has it in the bag, because I think it’s fair to say I have overleveled myself.

Palm was continuing his great streak of not letting Tympoles make him hurt himself, but sadly he did hurt himself once in this fight. Still, not bad, and much better than I usually get saddled with.

Ptera fighting the Timburr might be an incredibly stupid idea. He can one-shot them, but if they get a Rock Throw crit, it will be bad. This has been learned from the Fighting trainers in the wild that I didn’t screencap.

Those guys were at level 16, though. N’s level 13 is nowhere near the same brand of problem, and Ptera cleans up.

Alright, that settled, can I enter the gym now?

I forgot about the museum in front. Lenora’s got good taste.

Another Fresh Water for me. This one I don’t plan on using up. I don’t think I’ll need to, based on N’s levels. I really overtrained for this whole badge, probably. But that’s okay. I don’t like worrying about my pokemon dying every fight. Steamrolling is fine too. The main fun with all of this is finding out what I’ll end up with and raising them.

Then the very first trainer has a level 17 Patrat.

I feel less silly in my decisions.

Followed by a level 17 Herdier.

This is where I would consider doing more grinding, except by the time I’ve decided to stop grinding, I am generally not going to start again for a while.

The trainer with more than one pokemon starts with a level 15 Lillipup, so the Gym Leader’s are probably around 17-20. That should be okay. I’m healing before I go forward anyway, and Ptera’s going to grow another level beforehand just by beating this last trainer.

I really like Lenora’s Gym. It’s educational and has a secret staircase. I don’t think you can ask for more (though if memory serves, some of these get pretty wild this version).

Heals, then fight. This should be fine.

I want this office.

Ready... FIGHT!

She’s opening with a level 18 Herdier with Intimidate. Sigh. I forgot that was an ability. That might make this a little more awkward than I want, but Ptera is still part Rock. If things are going to go wrong, they should go wrong slowly enough for me to switch.

Take Down with a Leer boost only does 12, so yeah, this should be okay.

She uses a Super Potion, it takes three of any of Ptera’s attacks to down it, but Ptera gets a crit, and it’s Watchdog time!

I remembered she had this one.

For the sake of safety, I’m going to let Timon and his super effective attack handle this one. I think the Watchdog likes to sleep things.

A level 20 Watchdog. Do not want. But I believe in you, Timon. Go for it.

Uh.

Huh.

Fuck?

That’s. Wow, okay.

Watchdog with Retaliate. Awesome.

I don’t trust Ptera’s Defense to withstand whatever comes next, so Frogger... please do not die. Please. I need you to be alive and useful, because I just lost one of the greatest helps to this run.

Of course it has Hypnosis.

It’s so red. So close.

Retaliate does 30 damage without the fainting teammate ahead of time, and now Frogger is asleep and in the red. He needs to get out of there now, but I think Pursuit could be one of Watchdog’s moves.

I have one Soda Pop. He’s asleep anyway, so I’m willing to try it.

Geez this is scary.

tfw Watchdog also has Crunch and now Frogger’s Defense is lowered.

He isn’t faster, I don’t think. Even if he wakes up...

Switched to Palm and now Palm’s asleep.

Switching back to Frogger.

Frogger takes two Crunches, needs a Fresh Water, the next Crunch is a critical hit, and Frogger is still asleep. I have two Super Potions, now one, and Frogger is still alive and still asleep.

What in the fuck.

I know the sleep counter gets reset if you pull it out, but come on.

He finally wakes up, and because Watchdog only needed one more hit, victory is achieved.

Not worth it.

Lenora I don’t like you anymore.

And before we can end this segment, Team Plasma attacks the museum. Yay, plot. Plot to distract from the pain. The horrible, sad, awful, pain.

I can’t even remember their excuse for stealing the skull. Was there one?

I don’t know and care even less.

So we are assigned to search for the thieves with Burgh, Castelia’s Gym Leader, while Cheren and Bianca stay at the museum. Bianca is playing Fennel’s gopher, so we now have Dowsing Machine (MCHN) we will never remember to use, but if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.

...Bye.

I know the screenshots don’t show it, but you did a great job. Nothing else would have survived the gym if you hadn’t made training in Pinwheel Forest so straightforward. You did good, Timon.

Next Gym gets grinding. No complaints.

[jamesholden]

first aid

I said I would write a fic of Naomi helping Holden clean up after getting his face busted and so here it is. It’s kind of a reflection on where Naomi was and is at over what’s been happening and this beginning of a thaw from him and I missed finishing something about these two that’s short so here we go. it’s a mix between missing scene and changed context of a scene. I also included one of my favorite small Nolden interactions from the books heheheh. 

super special thanks to @thetruecaptain for reading through it and taking many excerpts and giving me insight i didn’t think of to develop some of the internalized bits. Also teaching me what grin actually means.

You can also find it on AO3, where you can leave a review if you so feel.

Thanks! Enjoy!

“Ow.”

Naomi’s heading back to Ops when she hears it. A pitiful groan and a heavy sigh coming from the med bay. Sounds she’s heard before from the same room. In the same voice. Her chest tightens.

A few weeks previously, Naomi wouldn’t hesitate to step into Holden’s least favorite room on the Roci to help erase his pain. After the days of his recovery from Eros, the terrifying hours of unconsciousness after the monster attack… her first instinct had always been to make sure he’s okay. But with this rift between them, hurt she can’t fix with a bandage or medication… there’s a hesitation. She’s a bit ashamed of it, of the small voice telling her not to help him. After everything that happened with the Kittur survivors, it has gotten quieter. But it’s still there. The walls he built between them made it too strong to completely erase.

Jim curses softly, a hiss barely audible over the hum of the Roci. The Pinus Contorta. Still loud enough to drown out that small voice. She takes a breath and steps into the med bay.

He doesn’t notice her. He’s sat in one of the chairs—the one he’s almost died in twice—with a mirror pulled right up to his face, studying the bloody mess of his nose.

When Jim had stepped onto Ops, rifle in hand and cold anger writ plain on his face, worry had battled with relief in Naomi’s mind. His voice had been rough, thick. Blood coated his chin, his lips, the tip of his nose. She’d been held in place by a Martian child as a shield but it had been Jim she was worried about. She’d heard him telling Amos what had happened as he helped Bobbie with Alex in the immediate aftermath. That he’d taken multiple punches to the face grappling with the Martian who had been in the other chair until they moved him to a bunk to get proper rest. Jim had waited until Alex had been tended to until taking care of his bloody, bruised mess of a face.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

It isn’t until Jim pulls the mirror away from his face, staring at her, that she realizes she’d spoken. She swallows, waiting for him to clear his throat, turn away, ignore her. But he doesn’t. He just stares, brows drawing together in confusion. Naomi’s lips twitch and she shrugs.

“Saving people. You just can’t stop yourself.”

Jim blinks, relaxes back into the chair. All the air seems to leave him. All the tension. Naomi’s heart hammers in her chest. She has his attention. He isn’t shrugging her off. He isn’t ignoring her. He’s waiting. Listening. For the first time in weeks, hope unfurls in her heart.

Naomi had been hurt, but not surprised by his outburst in Ops, before the attempted mutiny. His quiet in the weeks since she’d told him had been almost worse than if he’d yelled at her. At least then she would have had an idea of what he had been feeling. From the beginning, he hadn’t done a single thing that threw what she’d done in her face at her, even when he told her to take the Razorback. It had to come to an end eventually. Trust for Jim has become a raw nerve. Nearly as much as the protomolecule had been.

Naomi had scorned Jim on Tycho, back when—unknowingly —he’d done the same thing she had. He’d hidden what Cortazar knew. He’d planned to kill him. His motivation for doing so has been weak. But he’d told her. He’d told her as soon as she knew. She’d projected her anxiety and fear and frustration at him for silencing her, for forcing her to hide the protomolecule, onto an omission he’d owned up to. He had no idea. And he’d promised not to do so again.

Naomi hadn’t trusted Jim with the same truth. She hadn’t trusted him and Alex and Amos to make the right decision with their sample. How could she? They had no idea what it was like to live on the end of the Inner’s gun, waiting for the hammer to fall on the Belters who just wanted to live and work. They’d never understand and they hadn’t even tried to. So she couldn’t trust that he’d been right. She couldn’t trust him. And she hid it.

Naomi had played him a simulation and let him believe that she’d done what they’d agreed on for weeks. She’d deceived him. No matter how justified her reasoning, no matter how strongly she knows she’d made the right decision… She'd deceived him to his face and hid the truth for weeks. That she didn’t tell him any part of what she’d done or why until she’d almost lost him makes it worse for her.

Jim had been so… angry. Determined. Righteous. So set on his course that nothing any of them had done would have set him off it. He’d just rolled over all of them more than once. So many times Naomi thought she could tell him. After Tycho, until he told off Fred and got them kicked off station. As they toured the devastation of Ganymede, until he’d let Amos beat that hacker. When she was planning to leave him to help Melissa, until he let that scientist die. She’d been steamrolled before. She’s been treated like her feelings, her beliefs don’t matter. Even though Jim hadn’t been that man, it sent her back to places she’d never wanted to see again. So she didn’t tell him. In case he was that man.

When she finally got to see the man she’d… When she finally saw the Jim she’d known, it was too late. She’d already done it. And when she’d almost lost him, to a fucking crushed leg and a fucking protomolecule monster—knowing that he almost died alone with the thing he feared most again—and he still hadn’t known… she told him.

That is what hurts him. That’s what exposed the nerve. That Jim doesn’t know if she ever would have told him the truth otherwise. That’s what really hurts her. That she doesn't know either.

Before Naomi can think about it, she’s crossing the room. The coppery scent of his blood and the blood of those Martian kids clogs her own nose. She still walks with a hesitation, slowly moving closer to him. She watches his face. The confusion slips, but he doesn’t move. He still waits. When she’s in front of him, she slips her hands under his jaw, tips his head up. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull away from her touch. Naomi’s heart beats faster. She avoids his eyes for the moment, taking in the damage the Martian had done to him.

Despite her pressing that nerve and him snapping at her, when they’d needed him, when she needed him… Jim still came. And when the ensign had let her go, she’d run to him. Stood behind him absorbing every threat he threw at them if they’d hurt Alex. But he hadn’t carried any of them out. He’d let Bobbie get through to them. Part of her wondered if he’d even loaded the rifle, with the alert sent out to Amos. He isn’t the ruthless man he’s played at after Eros. He isn’t a cold murderer. He isn’t manipulative, self-serving. He isn’t the man she was afraid he was becoming. The man that dark voice tried to convince her he is.

He’s still just Jim. He still saved them. Still saved her.

Naomi meets his eyes again. “Thank you.”

Jim gazes up at her. Slowly, he softens. He shoulders relax. Even his mouth—lips colored dark red by flaking blood—relaxes, opening as if he’s about to say something. He tilts his head in her hands, studies her face.

The corners of his lips quirk ever so slightly. Not quite a smile. But something still… tender. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Naomi’s heart stops. Her breath hitches. It’s… more than she expected. She hadn’t expected much at all, but… His words had been barely more than a whisper, but they’d been filled with so much emotion that they resonated in the quiet med bay and her own mind. That dark voice rallies against it. She smiles back at him, just a bit wider than he had.

He’s just saying that, the voice says, faded more than the whispers off Eros. That’s what they do, charm you back to them. Why are you giving him a chance to hurt you again?

Because I love him. Her tone is defiant. Confident. This is Jim and Jim isn’t him and I love him and I think he still loves me.

The voice shrinks back. And goes away. She can breathe now. She can focus.

“Let’s survey the damage then.”

The Martian Jim had wrestled with had done his best to reconfigure Jim’s face. He hadn’t come out nearly as bloody as Jim, but given that he’d lost the fight, Naomi can forgive it. She carefully turns Jim’s face this way and that, trying to ignore the burn of his eyes on her. His nose is swollen, the dark bruising and blood a macabre contrast to his pale skin.

“How many hits did he land?”

Jim sighs. “Two direct hits. He had good aim for someone punching over his shoulder while getting choked out.”

Aside from the “clogged-nose” quality of his voice, he sounds a little fuzzy, likely a mix of exhaustion and pain medication that she’s heard in his voice before. A pang hits her chest at the thought. Would he ever get to rest without some sort of injury involved? Not that an injury has ever actually stopped him before. Death couldn’t stop him. But she drowns that thought in his current, relatively minor injury.

Naomi hums, her thumbs moving up to press gently against the bridge of his nose. Jim hisses. “Sorry,” she whispers, but Jim shakes his head just enough to not dislodge her hands.

“It’s nothing I haven’t done myself,” he attempts to assure her, another small smile lighting his bloody face. “What’s the verdict?”

Naomi releases him, the med bay air cooling the warmth his skin left behind on her palms. “It’s definitely broken, which I think you’ve likely guessed.” She turns to the table beside his chair, tearing open a pack of cleaning wipes. “It’ll be crooked without some cosmetic surgery. But you were too pretty before anyway. It’ll give your face more character.”

Jim laughs, something he immediately regrets based on the hitch in his breathing and the soft “ouch” he utters under his breath. Naomi smiles. She takes a wipe out of the pack and turns back to him. His eyes are back on her face. She gestures up. “All right, Captain. Let’s get you cleaned up and somewhat presentable.”

Jim gets the hint and tips his head up. Naomi takes his jaw in her hand and starts cleaning around his mouth and chin. She’d rather give the painkillers a little more time to kick in before prodding at his nose again. She’s still careful, mindful of any other bruising or cuts hidden beneath the blood. Pouring every ounce of affection she’s had to hold back into this now familiar routine. She glances up at his face to find his eyes closed, his face completely relaxed.

Trusting her completely.

She resists the part of her that wants to lean in and kiss him, blood be damned. He might not be ready, and pushing it won’t get them anywhere. She’ll take what he’s ready to give, and give him everything he’ll take.

It takes two wipes to clean the lower half of Jim’s face. It’s likely it’ll take a good shower or a fresh shave to get all of it, but she’ll leave that to him. Jim flinches at the first touch to his nose. Naomi shushes him, brushes her thumb along his jawline. He sighs. Nods. She sets to work. She puts absolute care into wiping away the blood without pressing hard enough to hurt. It’s so red that for a moment she scrubs at a spot that’s already clean because she couldn’t tell the colors apart. She uses an extra wipe to dab the lines of both cheeks before pulling back to take a look at her work.

“You’re going to have some nasty bruises and discoloration for a few days,” she muses. He blinks his eyes open, and she gives him a smile and taps his jaw. “But for now, you’re fine. If anything changes...”

Naomi winces and trails off. Let me know. She isn’t sure he will. She isn’t sure he’ll take care of himself at all outside of injecting painkillers and drinking coffee, let alone as her to take care of him. She turns away, tossing the soiled wipes in the recycler and moving to wash his blood off her hands. She nearly jumps when she hears his voice.

“I’ll let you know.”

Naomi takes a breath and glances at him over her shoulder. She catches his eyes on her just as he’s averting his gaze, moving to stand. Caught, even if he doesn’t know it. “Do you… want me to help you to your cabin?” Our cabin.

Jim pauses, considering. But when he looks at her he looks apologetic. “No, thank you. I’m fine. I think Avasarala wants me in the galley for something anyway.”

The expression on his face, the genuineness in his “I’m fine” compared to the hostile, shutting out tone he’d used about his leg, keeps her heart from sinking. It’s still something. There’s still hope. That, and the mention of their VIP passenger raises bitterness in her instead. “Well, when her highness has finished with you, get some rest. Okay?”

She expects him to roll his eyes. To huff and tell her to be nice and leave. But he smiles.

“You got it. I’ll get some rack time in. You do the same.”

With that Jim leaves, his boots scuffing down the corridor to the ladder.

Naomi stares at the spot he’s vacated for a solid minute before actually moving to the sink. Yes, there’s hope. And she’s going to hang onto that for a while. It’s all she has left.

For now.

[deepmappingdumfries]

Introduction to Deep Mapping Dumfries

"... the deep map attempts to record and represent the grain and patina of place through juxtapositions and interpenetrations of the historical and the contemporary, the political and the poetic, the discursive and the sensual; the conflation of oral testimony, anthology, memoir, biography, natural history and everything you might ever want to say about a place …"

Mike Pearson and Michael Shanks, Theatre/Archaeology (Routledge 2001) p. 64-65

The Deep Map

Maps can be useful, interesting, often beautiful. But any map can only ever portray a particular aspect of a place – and because they are always partial, maps are inherently biased and therefore political.

This is an experiment. An attempt to make a ‘deep map’ of Dumfries - an interdisciplinary, multi-layered, multimedia portrait of the town, from a ‘centre’ that is Oxfam Books and Music Dumfries, where I’m based as writer in residence. The eventual product will depend on how much and what kind of response I get from others. I will work on the deep map using as many other perspectives as I can and the more other voices I’m able to include, the richer the map could be – so how the map ends up shaped depends partly on you!

Are you someone who has known Dumfries your whole life? Or someone who moved here recently? Do you, like me, live outside Dumfries, but know it as the main town? Maybe you’ve only ever visited but have some particular important memory associated with it. Or do you have some expert knowledge – perhaps historical, archaeological, botanical, zoological, even mythological? Each will have quite a different perspective of the same particular places. If we could gather many of these, what could we build?

Throughout the project, I’ll be providing prompts – perhaps photos of particular places, or interesting facts about them or poems on particular themes, hoping to get people’s memories and connections to particular places reawakened. I’ll also be running some place writing workshops to help get folks’ writerly juices flowing! And I’ll be attempting a ‘Poetry Map of Dumfries’, similar to the Stanza ‘Poetry Map of Scotland.’

The project is somewhat fluid, and will be further shaped as it carries on – look out for further developments on how to get involved, here and on the Oxfam Dumfries Facebook page.

Why Dumfries?

I studied in Dumfries as a mature student, at the University of Glasgow’s School of Interdisciplinary Studies. I graduated in 2017 with an MLitt in Environment, Culture and Communication. On this taught degree, amongst other things, I learned much about how previous writers have written about place, about being in particular place and what that means for being a human and trying to live well. I also began developing a creative practice which attempts to incorporate my skills as a writer, artist and researcher, to portray particular place in a profoundly layered and multiple way - just as our experience of the world is always profoundly layered and multiple.

At the same time, I had begun to work on my own issues with anxiety and poor self-confidence by learning and practicing mindfulness meditation. This mainly consists of learning to notice – to notice what your mind is thinking and what your body is feeling, learning how to try to be really present in the world, rather than always absorbed in thoughts about the past or worries about the future, fears about how others see you. These things never fully go away, but almost like magic, the practice of noticing them (or trying to notice them as often as possible) without judgement takes away massive amounts of how damaging they are and helps you make a start at feeling at home in yourself. I didn’t believe it could happen until it did.

This practice of noticing, or remembering to keep trying to notice, also helped me to see how much our experience of the world is always filtered by what we know, or think we know. Our experience of place can be hugely affected by what we know about it and by what emotions and memories we connect with it.

My family moved to Dumfries and Galloway when I was 4. When I was a wee girl, Dumfries was the big town we’d get the bus to once a week, where my mum would get her fruit and veg at the market, where the swimming pool was and all the shops and shoppers in the High Street, the vennel – and where the fair would land twice a year, the wonderful, terrifying, sickening, money-draining fair. As a teenager Dumfries was a Saturday hang out, later a pub venue (though the lack of night buses meant this was a rare affair). It was where I went to college, later university, where I had both babies, where hospital visits good and bad take place. Now, it’s where I volunteer at Oxfam Books and Music, trying to be of some use to the world, finding I maybe can be. So even just to me, Dumfries is not a single place; it’s all of this and much more. Add in the memories and experiences of all the others connected to Dumfries and what a rich and complex picture you’d have.

But Dumfries is also all the things that ever happened to make it what it is now – how the rocks were formed that it’s built on and of, how the soil was formed, how the river flows and why, how the climate is and has been. What plants grow here, and what other creatures we share it with. Which powerful and legendary people made which things happen. And all of this is interconnected.

In recent years, all the towns I know have changed; shops have closed and charity shops, e-cig outlets and bookies are dotted about between boarded up premises. Many of us still want to visit towns but it feels as though we don’t quite know what they’re for any more. Dumfries is in the midst of finding out who it wants to be, what it can be. Many incredibly positive, innovative and community-based placemaking projects are ongoing – including, but not limited to: The Stove Network, the Midsteeple Quarter), Incredible Edible, MOOL (Massive Outpouring of Love) and of course Oxfam Books and Music Dumfries’s various projects, including the current ‘Art Beats Poverty’ summer programme. In order to add to this, I’m going to do what I can to try to build up a portrait of who Dumfries is and has been. I hope that this can be ongoing and include the voices and perspectives of as many folk as possible.

Cliff McLucas - "There are ten things that I can say about these deep maps.

First. Deep maps will be big – the issue of resolution and detail is addressed by size.

Second. Deep maps will be slow – they will naturally move at a speed of landform or weather.

Third. Deep maps will be sumptuous – they will embrace a range of different media or registers in a sophisticated and multilayered orchestration.

Fourth. Deep maps will only be achieved by the articulation of a variety of media – they will be genuinely multimedia, not as an aesthetic gesture or affectation, but as a practical necessity.

Fifth. Deep maps will have at least three basic elements – a graphic work (large, horizontal or vertical), a time-based media component (film, video, performance), and a database or archival system that remains open and unfinished.

Sixth. Deep maps will require the engagement of both the insider and outsider.

Seventh. Deep maps will bring together the amateur and the professional, the artist and the scientist, the official and the unofficial, the national and the local.

Eighth. Deep maps might only be possible and perhaps imaginable now – the digital processes at the heart of most modern media practices are allowing, for the first time, the easy combination of different orders of material – a new creative space.

Ninth. Deep maps will not seek the authority and objectivity of conventional cartography. They will be politicized, passionate, and partisan. They will involve negotiation and contestation over who and what is represented and how. They will give rise to debate about the documentation and portrayal of people and places.

Tenth. Deep maps will be unstable, fragile and temporary. They will be a conversation and not a statement."

http://cliffordmclucas.info/deep-mapping.html

Deep Mapping Dumfries on Wordpress here.

[robbiejohnsonyr2ax2011]

University - Manchester Animation Festival - Day 4

During this week, we are attending the “Manchester Animation Festival” (Or MAF for short). During each day this week I will write a post giving my thoughts on what I watched, as well as add anything else we did such as meetings and Talks. I will also provide links to any form of clip or trailer, if I can find one.

(This Post will contain spoilers)

 Short Films Children

Sea Major

Sea Major tells the story of a young girl, who really wants to fish. But her farther stops her and wants her to stay inside and learn piano, wanting to get back to fishing the girl sneaks out of the house and continues to fish. After hooking a very strong fish, she is dragged into the sea and nearly drowns, until the farther comes and saves her. Later that evening she wakes up in the house, with her saddened farther on their doorstep. Realising his mistake, the next day he decides to let his daughter fish with him and the two do just that.

This film was good, I can see how its 3D art style would look welcoming to young audiences. The story also tells the lesson of, if you really want to do something, keep at it and one day you will be able to go out and do it. The humour in this film was also pretty good, with the little girl wrestling a fish in the house, whilst remaining non-suspicious to her dad was a nice touch.

 The Witch and The Baby

The Witch and The Baby is a short story about a sad witch who isn’t looking as good as most other women. She decides to create a potion to make her look pretty, there’s one missing ingredient to the mixture though, a baby. Meanwhile a royal castle is hiring for a babysitter, the witch turns the other participants into frogs, gets the job and steals the baby. Once home, the baby keeps preventing the witch from finishing the stew, pooping, throwing potions playing with explosives the baby does it all. Suddenly the baby hugs the witch’s leg and calls her it’s “Mama”, this cause the witch’s heart to grow and care for the child. The two end up back at the castle and the witch is hired to keep looking after the baby.

This was a nice short story, with a friendly look and nice exposition. The story is a re-used, but effective one being someone who looks mean, is not always as bad as they seem. As well as you do not need to be pretty to be accepted into society, you can do things your own way.

Link to Trailer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmBX6gWqWZQ

 Tricked

Tricked is a story based on a street criminal stealing money from people on trams. One day a magician comes onto the tram with a pocket full of cash, the criminal tries to steal a $100 when he is suddenly pulled into another world within the magician’s pocket. The criminal chases the money through a variety of magic trick acts, such as cards, being cut in a box, rabbit in a hat, etc. The criminal grabs the $100 and fly’s out of the magician’s pocket onto a stage, where it is revealed the tram was a trick and is handcuffed by a large $.

I really liked the comedic and wacky nature of this film, seeing what magic act was going to happen next and how it would beat up the criminal kept me guessing. The lighting is also worth mentioning as there was effective uses of stage lights for magic act and even the shadows of the characters on the tram and when the criminal first lands in the pocket, where very well executed.

I could not find a Trailer, but here’s a link to the full film.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcROiQ6PEuI

 Margin of Terror

Margin of terror tells the story of a mad scientist, trying to create a terrifying monster. All seems to be according to plan, when suddenly the switch to turn on his device flips up and instead of a scary monster, create a small, adorable, friendly box creature. Annoyed the scientist throws the creature in the bin tries again, each time he tries the same result occurs with the same creature in varying colours, all of which are thrown in the bin. When the scientist losses hope in the experiment, all the small, boxed creatures, form into one giant creature, which excites and scares the scientist, he’s grabbed, and the creature gives him a hug.

This film uses its Claymation design very well, from the overtop expressions of the scientist to the squash and stretchy nature and interactions with the small box creatures. Even the ending where they all merge together, is a good use of mixing clay colours together. This story also reminds me of the well know saying by Thomas H Palmer “If at first you don’t succeed, Try, Try Again”.

Link to the teaser trailer

https://vimeo.com/365839199

 Shooms’s Odyssey

Shoom’s Odyssey is a story about two baby owls hatching and exploring their surroundings, they meet squirrels, crocodiles, racoons and more. Along the way Shooom and her brother get separated when two children find her brother (still in the egg) and take him with them to take care of him. Shooom explores the town as she searches for her brother, meanwhile the kids grandfather finds out about them having a baby owl with them. Eventually Shrooom finds her brother the humans help them get home, until they part ways. On their way home they help a young racoon stuck in a duck inflatable get free, which later the racoons mother finds the baby owls and takes them back to her home.

This short film looks beautiful, an excellent use of 2D animation. I love that we watch Shrooom and her brother group up alongside each, such as learning to walk and experiencing flight for the first time, it’s also interesting that some things they learn are from other creatures, such as the squirrel shows Shrooom how to walk on two feet (Or claws/ Talons I guess for an owl). It’s also a very good story with Shrooom and her brother exploring the world from birth and attempting to find their mother/ family, but in the end are taken in by a family of racoons (sort of like adoption). Lastly, the kids final good bye to Shrooom and her brother, saying good bye to “Squeak” and the brother turns around and responds with a chirp was great to me kind of like closing the book on Squeak and the kids relationship.

 Link to trailer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWP9orbO8vI

Stix and Stones

Stix and Stones is a short story about two cave men who were frozen in the stone age and are alive in a modern day museum after being thawed by accident, now they come out and of posing when everyone’s gone home. The two find a stool and try and experiment with it to figure out what it is, they sit on the stool upside, they sit on it right side up and snap the legs to make a fire. However, the fire alarm goes off, activating the sprinklers and causing Stix and Stones to panic, they run into the walls of the glass cabinet there in and the short ends.

This animation was an interesting short, I liked the catchy introduction sequence which is familiar to that of a mainstream cartoon introduction, with a catchy rhythm but also explaining how Stix and Stones got to where they are now. I also liked the chemistry between the two as they seemed competitive with each as well as brotherly.

 Onigami

Onigami, is a short story of two cavemen-esc creatures breaking into a traditional looking Japanese home, one is small and wild the other is large and gentle. Whilst the short creature goes wild smashing up the place, the big one discovers origami and tries to create an origami bird from a book. He repeatedly tries and fails, becoming sad about it, the short creature picks up on this and decides to use the pieces of the house he has smashed to create a large origami bird. The two manage to create the bird and carry on with their day.

This story delivers a unique aspect to trial and error, showing that you can repeatedly try something, over and over again and never get it correct. But there is always a solution/ work around to what your doing. I also liked how the characteristics of the pair is represented in their movement, the short creature is fast and sharp with his movements, whereas the big creature slow and cautious, but always smiling. In one part he even shakes his wooden club like a baby rattle giving off the impression off a young child.

I couldn’t find a trailer, but here’s a link to the full film

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_P_01Rh9-m4

 The Mandrake

The Mandrake tells the story of a rabbit vegetable farmer, one day a badger witch (at least I think it’s a badger) approaches the rabbit and places a drawing on a potted plant, she gives the rabbit a bag of money and leaves. The next day the potted plant grows into a baby made out of stems and leaf’s, the rabbit decides to take care of the new born, although it takes a while two form a bond. A few days later the witch returns and wants to take the baby with her, the rabbit tries to return the money, but the badger wants the baby. She attacks the two and damages the farm with her hex spells, she hits herself and transforms into a large goo monster, before she can harm the two, she melts, and the rabbit and his child carry on with no harm done to them.

This story is unique as it shows the a growing bond between two unlikely friends/ family and how to deal with sudden large responsibility’s like taking care of a child. I liked the art style of this film too, with the thicker more solid colouring on characters and what they interact with, in comparison with the lovely water coloured and painted backgrounds of the farm and its landscape.

 The Little Bang

The Little Bang is a short story about planets in the solar system smiling and playing with smaller plants/ asteroids within their atmosphere (Like parents and children), everyone except for a flaming planet that everyone looks away from because its too bright. The planet is sad and alone, until a new planet just like him is made in the distance, the flaming planet gets the attention of the new planet and shows it how to grow arms, exploded and much more. Everything is fine until a black hole comes and the two can’t reach each other, the flaming planet uses the black to swing over to the new planet and they hug, causing a large explosion, this creates hundreds on new planets with the twos colour scheme on them (Orange and cyan).

This story is sweet, as it sends the message of there is someone for everyone, even if no one particular likes you. I liked the concept of planets being parents to smaller planets giving a parent-esc relation ship between the two. I also enjoyed the chemistry between the two planets as it seemed similar to that of a love story between two very different people but represented as planets. A final point to make is I liked the glow of the two planets, not only as a nice-looking design choice, but it also shows that the two of them stand out from the rest.

Below is a link to the trailer.

https://vimeo.com/395077314

Meow or Never

Meow or Never is an interesting story as it follows the journey of a Cat traveling through space to find the meaning of life. She becomes stranded on a planet when her ship malfunctions, thanks to a dog. The two journey around the planet looking for her ship and find marshmallows and spirits along the way. Once the ship is found, the cat decides to stay on the planet with the dog and the two become close friends.

This short film is interesting as it informs kids that there is no official meaning to life, it is what you make it out to be. The way how it is presented in a musical fashion will have kids hooked and adults, likely surprised. I also liked how each character on the planet had their own answers, bugs were to eat food all time, Marshmallows where to be set on fire in a campfire further backing the point of the film. The puppet animation in this film also gives it a unique charm and is well executed throughout.

Link to trailer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d16qEQGViO0

 Todays Talk

 Stephen Dee

In today’s talk, we had Stephen Dee (One of my tutors) who told and showed us some of his work from over the years in the animation industry. Stephen explained how his start came from when he went to live in America for a short while, made friends, went back to London with one of them and together they were able to get a job. This job was in creating set designs for locations such as city’s and parks, this was just the start for Stephen as he would eventually find his way into projects which involved making sculpts for theme parks and doing large sculpt the same size and much bigger than him, such as an enormous elephant and a large tiger shark.

Stephen also showed us some of his animation work, as over time his lines of work brought him into the stop motion scene, he had helped on children’s TV shows such as “Fifi and the Flower Tops”, “Little Robots”, and “Prank Patrol” amongst others. Stephen went into a lot details on each of the projects he had made and to me it was very interesting, as he explained the materials used to create each one and some of their measurements (E.g. One of the Robots in a shot he showed us from “Little Robots”, although looked small, was actually 42cm tall).

To end Stephen mentioned some advice from what he had learned in the industry, such as explaining the importance of having a good, coincident work ethic, as twenty good jobs will mean nothing to one bad one. As well as “Know your own worth” when it comes to approaching each project. As a quick side note, in the Q and A at the end of the talk, each tutor who spoke with us, over the last four days, were complimenting each other on their presentations and reflecting on each other’s work, which was interesting to hear as they shed light on each of their projects and little things that weren’t mentioned in there presentations. It was nice to hear at the end.

[badbloodmagic]

@demoniiiic didn’t really ask for this bullshit but gets it anyways xoxo 

   There were many things that Hazelle had done for the first time and had repeated them since then, some of the acts were horrible, dreadful things, often viewed by those that had morals as evil; Hazelle, however, viewed them as a way of living. When one was immortal and was not first instilled with any sense of proper behavior, or rather, they had been a creature of the dark since they were brought into this world, what was considered evil became a bit distorted. Hazelle was a different creature now, the monster all the priests and doctors, scientists and her family had told her she was from the age of a young child. She had become all which they had feared. Despite this evil, the corrupt and damaged flower was still eager for love, eager for something she never had—happiness. As she was reliving something she’d done several times over, Hazelle was sure she’d never find that feeling ever in any life time, the scent of sterilized rooms and obnoxiously white floors, all too familiar. Making her sick, but she knew it was more than that, she had been starved, trapped and cornered like a beast and brought to the place where individuals who acted on suggestions by voices in their heads were taken. They had to beat her down, even though they had cornered her, waited her out for quite a long time, she’d been starving herself prior to the endeavor or her capture, but they had to beat her to finally capture her and then sedated her heavier than she’d ever been in the past-- it was terrifying, even for a creature who could tear them all to fucking pieces.

    The raven-haired beauty struggled to walk on her own, weak in her unfed and starved state, the modern age had brought new technologies to slow her down, tranquilizers were one of those. Although, it had taken quite a few to stop her from hurting the authorities and those other professionals that had been there to help capture her—admittedly, Hazelle had lost her mind, the voices were stronger in her starved state, her undernourished and feeble mentality. As they dragged her down the hall towards whatever place they deemed safe, Hazelle fought to keep her mind from giving in, it would only cause more trouble if she were to attack now, she was confident in her abilities but in the state she was currently in, even the crazed woman knew it was a pointless attack to make. She stumbled, staggered against the men carrying her before her knees hit the cold tile floor.

     Slouched against broad shouldered orderlies, Hazelle muttered, whining as her head lulled back, pale cheeks stained with tears and smeared with blood, they hadn’t even been decent enough to offer her a rag, a blanket, anything to calm her down, just one too many shots and a body she could no longer control. They ended up wherever had been chosen as her destination, cool and wet tile slid beneath her bare feet as the two men removed her gown and sat her down, surprisingly gentle before a hard rush of water met her slender frame. A hose, she supposed this was their way of bathing her without getting too close. The vampire cried out at the sudden cold water, shielding her face as they soaked her, soul and all. Hazelle had been here before, in this mental and physical trap, it was not a pleasant place to be. Hazelle pulled her legs up against her chest, a whimper shuddering past her cold lips as the orderlies hosed her off until they were satisfied. This time they were not gentle hauling her to her feet again, a towel was dragged over her body by a female nurse, at least Hazelle thought the other was female, it didn’t really matter, they had already seen her in her full glory, starving and clawing her way through the police as if they were some diseased creatures. Her old clothes were replaced, something thinner, slacks and a long-sleeved shirt before they were back in the halls.

     At some point she lost consciousness, perhaps it was from the shock of the shower or the drugs that were overpowering in her system, regardless of whichever it was, Hazelle woke with a start, pale eyes sharp and dangerous as she shot up from the curled-up position she had been in. The orderlies had placed her in a room, the cot on which she sat on was hard, not at all comfortable but what need did something dead have of softness, especially when they did not sleep, often, or at all, the only reason she had done so was due to the day's ordeal. Being starved and weak, hosed and beat, drugged and belittled, the day had certainly been trying for Hazelle. A quick glance about the room confirmed the passing events had not been in her mind, if they had, then, her mind was even more of a torturous place than she had lived to believe. Slowly, once she had become accustomed to her surroundings, the raven-haired vampire slipped from the cot, feet still bare but grazing a pair of shoes next to the bed. With a nauseating sting in her veins, Hazelle turned the knob of the door separating her from the rest of the facility, surprisingly, the door was unlocked.

    Naturally, she thought this to be a trap, as if the moment she stepped outside the door she would be thrown into a world of pain and beaten again in her weak state. Memories flashed before her eyes as she gently pulled the door open, silently due to her supernatural stealth, the ultimate killer. Her feet were silent on the cold tile as she moved from the room, why they would trust her and not bind her to the cot was beyond her, it was their mistake, not hers. A glance up and down the hall proved that she was alone for the time being, it also confirmed the lack of natural light, no windows. She was in a place she had been several times before, this time she was frail and broken, starved, she needed to feed if she were to break out of this desolate and horrid place. Hazelle padded lightly down the hall towards the place where she could hear the buzzing of electricity and the mild commotion of other beings, humans, she could smell them, one hand on the white walls to steady herself. As she neared the end of the hall a voice called to her, silent to all others, but deafening in her ear, causing Hazelle to recoil, it was of course, the OTHER demons which resided within her.

                    Slaughter them all, you can do it, get the orderlies first. Kill them.

    There was a flash in her pale eyes, something far more sinister, at the suggestion of murder, the lust for the coppery taste of blood dripping from her mouth was making her sick, pushing open double doors to expose what was obviously the common room Hazelle took a breath, remembering it was normal to do as much. The other crazies lingered within the room, having quirks and disturbances of their own, all in their own little worlds. Few things made Hazelle feel dizzy, being in an asylum surely made no warm feeling within her, seeing others act on their own demons almost disgusted her, part of her, a part of her that was nothing more than a fictitious voice in her head.

   Look at them, disgusting creatures, slaughter them, tear them limb from limb, murder them.

     Hazelle instinctively batted at her ear, as if waving off a fly that was bothering her by buzzing about her head. A troubled and earnest look sculpted her features as she stepped further into the room, ignoring the looks and soft worded comments about the newest arrival. Being around people often helped, when she was in control, that was, of her hunger, of her impulses, of the voices. Finding a corner was easy, the other ‘patients’ scrambled away or laughed as they gave her space, most of them, anyways. Her hands were cupped over her ears, black, messy hair covering her face a bit before she slumped down on an old brown and rough couch, the television before the couch black, Hazelle focused on her reflection for a while before a body clad in white paused before her. An orderly.

“If you’re goin’a trip out on us, we will have to subdue you.” The orderly warned, squatting to get on the same level as her gaze. “Do you understand?”

      She did understand but she couldn’t control them now, she was far too weak, they were all the same, the orderlies, it still surprised her that they had not restrained her, considering how violent she had been upon capture. The man moved, causing her to flinch some, recoiling as he tried to touch her, he did the same, standing and putting a hand on his baton as if she would leap out and attack him. Which wasn’t far from what went through her mind before he called out to another orderly. “I think she needs her meds—Fitz.” A moment later another orderly appeared and the two of them hesitantly moved to give Hazelle an injection, she struggled, whining and pulling her legs up to fend them off with a kick or two, it didn’t last long, they pinned her down and gave her the shot, soon the medicine was corrupting her veins, making her lethargic once again. It didn’t, however, stop the voice, it was louder than ever now as it had control of her mind.

      Hazelle made a noise that resembled a sob, “Please--- I don’t--- I don’t want it, I don’t want the medicine.” She didn’t want to be weak, be famished and paler than she was even when she had fed. She looked as if she were on the precipice of death, waiting to take his hand and walk to Hades. This was how she would die, starving and drugged out until her vampiric body withered away. Hazelle sluggishly pulled her legs up to her chest, curling against the couch on which they had left her, mind swimming and finally the voice was silenced for a moment, the rest of them, though, given the opportunity the dominant one was silent, they took their chance to torment the raven-haired beauty. “No—No—Stop talking—“ Her voice was soft, barely a breath, her body taken over completely by the drugs as she tried to blink away the pain, tears burning her cold cheeks, slender arms hugging her knees to her chest. Pale eyes were caught somewhere in the distance, Hazelle didn’t see anyone before her, all she saw was what was crashing through her mind.

[ezmisery]

Log-book of Social Worker #931

Log 1, June 6th 1966

Today I had my first meeting with case #1122, the abuse and neglect of H. The case was reported to our office after a school nurse noticed physical damage on the child.

H is a seven-year-old girl of average build. She is bright and very inquisitive. Her mother, Professor H XXXX, was not home at the time of my visit. According to H, she is often gone. She spends most of her time at work. When she is home she does spend time with H, although H did not seem particularly happy about this. Her father, Mr. N XXXX, was home at the time of the visit. He was disinterested in my presence but did agree to answer some questions.

I began the interview with the father first, asking H to wait in her room. Apparently H lives in the basement. I will revisit this fact later. The father looked intoxicated although he claimed he does not drink. He told me he has schizophrenia. Perhaps his medication makes him appear drunk. He went on to tell me that he often heard voices but none of them were violent. I asked if he ever harmed H and he became animated. He vehemently denied ever hurting H. He asserted that he loved her and wanted only to protect her.

I asked if he felt H was safe in his home. He was quiet for a few minutes. He then said yes very quietly before requesting to end the interview.

Afterward, I went to H’s room. As I stated earlier she lived in the basement. Her room was small and windowless. I noticed quite a few books but otherwise it was quite bare. I inquired if I could ask her some questions.

“Like an experiment?” she responded.

I told her no, not an experiment. An interview. She agreed. I asked her if she felt safe at home. She said that safety was relative and there is no stable definition. I was shocked by the maturity of her answer. I pushed her to tell me more. She explained that safety is dependent upon your experiences. A dark cave might be safe to some people and terrifying for others.

I asked her what her version of safety was. She said being alone.

I asked her if anyone at home was hurting her. She asked if I meant physically or psychologically. I said either. Instead of answering she asked me if I had ever slapped my son. This was concerning to me. I had not mentioned my son to her or her father. To change the subject, I asked if she had been slapped. She just smiled and said she figured so.

I will revisit the XXXX family next week to check back with H.

______________________________________________________

Log 2, June 13th 1966

I revisited the home of H today, however I could not enter the home. I knocked on the door. I could hear H’s voice from behind the screen. She asked who it was. I told her my name and that we spoke last week. She said she was not allowed to open the door. I asked why, and she said N was in time out. She said she would answer one question if I had any. I tried to push the issue but she had obviously left the door and no one answered my questions.

I will come back tomorrow.

______________________________________________________

Log 3, June 14th 1966

Case #1122 is becoming far more complicated than expected. I went to the home and the father invited me in. He was not in the intoxicated state of last week. He was perfectly alert. I asked him about the day before, and he laughed it off.

“A time-out is when I am locked in the bathroom to work out all the voices,” he explained. “It is for my own good.”

I asked him who locks him in the bathroom. He changed the subject.

I circled back to the physical damage on H observed by the school nurse. “Don’t worry, it is part of her lessons,” he told me. I asked how scars carved into her back were lessons. “I know, it’s hard for me to understand too. But that’s just because we’re not as smart. She understands.”

“Your wife?” I prompted.

“Yes. Wife.” He seemed upset.

I wrote some notes implicating the mother in the abuse. “Can you understand why this is concerning for others?”

H came up from the basement. She looked at me. “Are you bothering him?”

Her appearance was shocking. She was dressed only in underwear. For the first time I could clearly see the wounds. It was horrible. My first instinct was to grab her and take her home with me immediately, but I obviously followed protocol.

“Are you alright?” I asked her.

“That is a stupid question.” She walked towards the father, completely unbothered by her nudity. “Has she asked yet?”

“No. But she-”

H turned to me, ignoring her father. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

“I’m sorry, but I am deeply worried about your safety. I can’t leave yet.”

“There are thousands of children who need your help. I am not one of them. Your response to this entire situation is disappointing.”

I was extremely confused. I tried a different tactic. “Can you tell me who hurt you?”

“Better. But not quite right.” She turned her back to me so I could see the full horror. Up and down her back were a series of lines and dots. They were carved with a blade very carefully. I will try to replicate it here but it will most likely be incorrect. -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- .-.. .-.. / .. -.. .. --- - ...

The father started to cry. A deep sense of fear washed over me. “Who did this to you, Henrietta?”

“I am so tired of all of you. You don’t see the bigger picture. You don’t care about knowledge.” She sighed. “I did this to myself.”

The father cried louder. I stood up. “I think it is time for you to come with me, Henrietta.”

“You haven’t done it yet! Everyone else has done it. Why are you different? Is it your son, the one who can’t even piss without your help? How often have you grown impatient with him? Wished he was dead? When you slapped him, did you feel good? Even the guilt felt better than the fact that you’ll be his maid for the rest of his life.” Her voice was full of venom.

“How do you…how do you know about my son?”

“I followed you! We got a letter you’d be coming and I found your house. I watched you spoon applesauce into his face. A good scientist does her research on her test subjects.” She shook her head. “Even if her subjects fail her.”

I admit, I got angry. “You are not a scientist. You are a little girl. Is your mother influencing you?”

“You still don’t get it? We made her up. There is no Harriet Wrom. It’s just me.”

“But your father…”

“Is an idiot. I don’t really believe we’re even related. There’s no way that pile of useless could be related to me.” The father had stopped crying and simply rocked back and forth.

I inched towards the door. “Henrietta, you need a doctor.”

“I AM A DOCTOR,” she screamed at me. “I’m smarter than any of you.” She collected herself. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional. I am simply frustrated that my experiment didn’t work.”

I was about to run out the door, but something stopped me. “What experiment?”

H wiped the hair from her face and tied it in a bun above her head. “I was trying to see if morbid curiosity could beat out human concern. I carved this on myself for one purpose – so you would ask what it means. That’s all I wanted from you. But you were not an ideal test subject. I should have known better. I will document my findings and try again.”

“Again?”

“Just go home,” she said with a flip of her wrist. “You’re useless to me now.”

I opened the door. I wanted to leave, to get out of there as quickly as possible. But it was as though my body and voice did not belong to me. I turned back to the child, halfway out. “Henrietta,” I said quietly, “What do the marks mean?”

A large smile spread across her face. She walked over to me, opened her mouth, and shut the door violently. I fell backward and skinned my elbows. After this I rushed back home as fast as I could.

______________________________________________________

Log 4, June 15th 1966

Last night I called the police and informed them about what had happened. I asked for a police escort today when I would take H out of her home and to the hospital. We agreed to meet at the home at noon.

Noon came and an officer joined me in knocking on the door. There was no answer. I pounded louder. Still nothing. The officer peered into the windows and told me it looked like the house was empty.

We traveled to H’s school to see if we could find her there. Her teacher said she was not in class.

We will try again.

______________________________________________________

Final Log

I have given up on case #1122. Police broke down the door of the house and nothing was inside except for a book about military communication. H never came back to school. It was like she and her father disappeared.

That was months ago. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since then. The way she spoke and held herself…it was unbelievable that she was only seven.

I sincerely hope she gets the help she needs. I doubt she will, but I can still hope.

On a related note, I got a terrible thing in the mail that I believe she sent to me. It was a syringe. I have no idea what is inside the needle but I can only assume it is deadly. She wrote e a small note that simply said, “If you ever want to end it." I don’t think she means suicide. I think she wants me to give it to my son.

But of course I would never do that. Of course not. Never.