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cookie-crumblr · 8 months ago

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The Smell of Smoke

F!Reader x Yandere Bully OC

Part 8~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part 1 — Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: F! Reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, NON CON HARD DRUG USAGE(HEROIN), Hospital setting, fire, murder, blood, car accident, high speed car chase, explicit language, descriptive death scene, fighting

The syringe…

The way it pierced your skin like a thin pick of ice, you yelped and tried to stop him. You pushed and pushed but you are just too weak.

And he’s just too strong.

He holds you down, and covers your mouth so you can’t even scream.

The burning intensity of the drug rushing immediately through your veins when he pushes the plug down.

It feels better than the best sex you’ve ever had.

An all body orgasm, with the intensity cranked up to a million. It’s hot, like magma, but it’s not painful in the least. Even the pin prick has vanished into immense and all encapsulating pleasure.

It’s better than heaven, you’d never feel something so amazing anywhere imaginable, except right here on this debauched planet.

You wet yourself, unable to control your bladder anymore, and your body begins to convulse. You’re puking but you can’t even tell, you’re too consumed by the ecstasy.

You tried your hardest to fight… and this is how you die?

…

He lays you on your side as foam and bile start to spill from the side of your lips.

You’re overdosing.

He’s gonna kill you.

He’s really gonna kill you.

You’ll be free at last… at least.

He won’t be able to hurt you now…

You don’t feel too afraid anymore.

*Beep…*

*Beeeeeeeeeeeeep*

“Code Blue! Code Blue!” You’re hearing people rush all around your body, but you aren’t here.

You’re somewhere floating above.

Somewhere dark, with sickly hands ferrying you somewhere. You can’t see with your eyes, but your mind, the hands are made of the tar that’s in your veins.

When suddenly,

*GASP* *COUGH* There’s something in your throat! It’s helping you breathe but it’s so painful! you cough around the strange intrusion, and feel like your gonna throw up more.

The nurses and doctors rush to un-intubate you, since you can breathe on your own again.

You sit up without thinking your body actually responding properly again, you must’ve at least gotten some rest this time.

The nurses tell you to lay back down as the machines all screech around you.

The first recognizable person you see is Ace.

He’s struggling against the nurses that are holding him away from the door to your room as his eyes are trained, locked in on yours.

No one’s ever fought like that just to make sure you’re okay, and you feel something warm in your chest thrum.

Soon Ezra comes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, stopping Ace from actually hurting anyone.

When Ezra faces you, you start to sob, and your body shakes violently.

Everything he’s put you through,

*BEEP BEEP—BEEP BEEP— BEEP BEEP*

“Calm her down! Get those boys away from her!”

They rush around again giving you things in your various tubes connected to your arm.

You want to say no! at least leave Ace… You don’t want to be alone… You don’t want Ezra to come back without him.

But your throat is hoarse and you can’t speak through the shivers.

You fall back unconscious.

When you come to, Ezra is waiting. His arm is bandaged, and he’s smoking in your hospital room. You go to press the call button…

When your shaking fingers are almost there,

he grabs your wrist tight.

You choke out a sob, you want desperately to keep fighting, but how much more can you actually take.

He removes your blanket from your thigh and puts out his cigarette on your non-broken, non branded leg.

You hiss, the pain becoming far too familiar for your liking.

“You’re getting better at taking what I give you,” he smirks.

“H-how…” You speak without stopping yourself, You don’t even recognize your own voice as it’s so hoarse.“How are you still smiling…?” It’s horrific. All that he’s done to you.

Really, truly, horrific. And he just,

isn’t done.

He’ll never be done,

and that realization is setting in fully now.

He’s never going to stop, until he actually kills you.

His smile only grows with your realization.

Soon he’s checking you out saying that someone at a party shot you up, and taking your limping form to his BMW then shoving you into the back.

You claw at your head and collapse into yourself.

This can’t keep going on! You can’t take anymore! you really are about to break…

Your mind is shattering and there’s nothing you can do about it.

When your about to give in, you see Ace speeding up behind you… He’s in his own car and he’s catching up to you both.

He pulls up beside Ezra, and Ezra speeds up, trying to pass his younger brother.

You’re shaking in the backseat and you buckle yourself in, just in case you crash.

Ace is focused on driving but the way he looked at the black tinted back windows, as if he could see you. Your heart flip flopped. No! You think… If you have hope it’ll only hurt you more when it also shatters…

You don’t know what to do or what to think when you feel the car lurch and a sound of plastics crunching.

Your in the middle seat but the car door next to you crunches inward, you scream! the whole car spins violently before Ezra regains control.

It’s Ace you know it is, but it’s so scary!

Ezra’s driving like a maniac and his brother is too, they’re now trying to run eachother off the road.

You see a wearhouse coming up on the horizon with billowing smoke stacks that look like cigarettes puffing black smog into the blue sky.

Right before the car is in the air, upside down, and squealing, and the smell of burnt rubber and plastics assaults your senses.

You’re glad when all the motion stops, that you put your seat belt on.

Ezra hit his head! He’s unconscious!! You reach next to him and unlock your door, rushing, you’re able to get out and you go to Ace’s upside down, smoking, car. There’s blood covering his face, and soaking his pink hair, making it a deep crimson.

You use your elbow and smash the window without thinking. You must have strength from all the adrenaline rushing through you, cause it shatters.

You use your shirt to get rid of the cubed shards of glass, and are able to unbuckle him and pull him out.

you try your best to leave him the way he was and listen for his heart, and if he’s breathing.

You have a flashback to something you’ve seen before about the song “stayin alive” and how it matches the pulsing motion you need to preform.

His body is silent, and you start chest compressions.

There’s no sound, just the song in your head and your ragged breathing as you put your whole weight down into his chest over and over again.

soon enough Ace gasps, coughing and spitting, and the sound finally comes in. Birds and insects buzz alighting the atmosphere with even more excitement and commotion. the cars groan and crackle with their embers.

Ace reaches up to your face. his bloodshot eyes move from yours to behind you, and he jumps up and throws you behind him. You land roughly on your casted leg and yelp, finally remembering that it is still broken.

Ace shouts, “Ezra!!! ENOUGH!!!” Ezra has a cigarette in his mouth already, and blood all over him matching Ace.

One of them is dying tonight.

You can see this fact now.

“Ezra!! Stop!” You yell and grab Ace’s hand pulling him with you. Through a tall grassy field you run. As you’re trying to run to those smoke stacks in the near distance you feel yourself float for a second, thinking you’re falling you brace, but find that Ace scooped you up, to run with you in his arms.

He saw where you were heading and follows your instinct.

You use this opportunity to look over Ace’s should at Ezra chasing you both. He’s gaining on you.

Ace makes it with you in his arms to the factory and finds a rusted, paint chipped side door, he squeezes you both through, and then rushes through piles of scrap and steel beams, and ginormous vats of whatever.

There’s sunlight barely streaming through the dusty windows that line the top of the room.

But…

There’s no people here!

Nobody to help!

Fuck! what do you do!

Ace puts you down behind a pile of various materials and covers his lip with his finger letting you know to be silent.

You shake your head no! don’t leave me!! please! don’t go Ace! You scream in your own skull.

but he’s running off, going to meet with his brother and end this in a building that smells like smoke.

Your feelings are rushing, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and you glance at everything around you, you finally get an idea.

It’s a horrendous idea that could go horribly wrong… But you intend to finish this first.

These vats, they’re bubbling and there’s wooden beams and a wooden second layer, maybe you could get Ezra’s lighter and start a fire…

There’s levers on the sides of them that open up, as long as the carts aren’t underneath the opening to collect the substance, you could cover this whole floor with whatever’s in there. You start to push the carts out of the way, they’re heavy and they squeal rustily as the roll on the tracks.

You won’t go down without a fight. You aren’t about to let an innocent person die for you.

Once again you steel your frazzled nerves.

Now to find Ezra before Ace does and bait him here.

You bolt, ignoring the pain in your leg, and even though your movement is hindered you push through moving fast!

You can do this!

You round a corner and full body into the man you’re looking for. He stares down at you smirking, before he grabs you by the arms, and you panic momentarily before remembering that this is exactly what you needed.

you have to get that lighter, or….

The cigarette in his mouth. You use your good leg to kick the bone of his ankle. he doubles over in sudden pain, and confusion strikes him as you yank the cigarette from his lips. His confusion makes you able to worm yourself free from his grasp!

he’s faster than you, but walks to chase after you. Hah!

He doesn’t know you have a plan!

You can do this! You really can!

“Y/N~” He laughs, “You’re not gettin’ away from me, jus’ stop fightin’ and give in already, would’ya,”

He stalks after you, not even a little suspicious of why you took his cig.

You run back around the corner and down the dingy halls and up a few metal stairs up to the vats and pull the vat lever, it’s so heavy you use your full weight to actually push down all the way and get it to…

*chur-CHUNK* the ground rumbles as Black bubbling liquid pours out all over the cement, and around the beams, you’re on a metal platform above it thankfully.

“EZRAAAAAA!” You scream, ready to end this.

His brow furrows as your eyes meet his, and you toss the cigarette onto the tar, igniting the whole floor.

*FWOOSH* The flames take to the liquid instantly, you cover you nose with the baggy hospital clothes as oxygen is whipped past you and sucked to the blaze.

Ezra is just outside of the spill and the fire, he thinks you’ve failed as he’s smirking sinisterly, he doesn’t notice the wooden platform above him.

You start pulling smaller levers on the control panel and hitting buttons in a frenzy trying to find anything that could help, and fast!

No! You see the shadow of another man through the fire!

“ACEE!!!!!” The weakened wooden beams crash in on themselves and the floor collapses down lighting on fire as they fall. Ashes and smoke fill the mostly closed building.

You cough and look over the flames.

Ezra is still smiling at you, but it’s different now. He doesn’t even notice his brother in peril!

You have to save Ace! the building is going up in flames now, and you’re running out of time.

If he’s even alive!

More beams and supports fall before you, creating an opening. You move without thinking.

Your lungs burn and the fire licks at your skin through your clothes.

Sirens can be heard in the distance finally.

You’re going to get out of this! you are!

But it’ll be for nothing if Ezra exits this wearhouse too.

First you have to make it to Ace.

He’s under a fallen beam over his upper body!

You don’t even think about it you just start to lift it with inhuman strength. Ace is able to crawl out, he’s coughing badly from the smoke though, and probably has a collapsed lung! Gods!

Ezra grabs you from behind and starts pulling you with him into the roaring flames. Your cast feels hot!!

You swing your broken leg around like a dead weight and land the hard cast right into his knee, causing him to buckle down.

You push him into the fire and tar.

The embers take to him fast, and the last thing you see of Ezra, is his smiling face as his skin turns pitch black, peels, and evaporates off his bone. New ashes rise and you cover your nose harder, not wanting a single bit of him inside you ever again.

He looked oddly… At peace.

The firefighters get you and Ace out. They can do little for the building, but you couldn’t care less.

No one suspects either of you of anything. Just a freak accident and some young 20 somethings exploring buildings they shouldn’t.

No one asked why the tar spilled. So you didn’t say.

The building was apparently insured quite well so they got more money than it was worth and didn’t need to be concerned.

They were more concerned about the car crash and why you were in a high speed chase.

But after the culprit’s charred body was recovered they saw no need to investigate further with his previous record collaborating your story. Although you told the truth you omitted that Ace actually started it.

Thankfully, he did too.

You watch Ezra’s body being moved from the wearhouse to the ambulance in a black body bag. He’s really dead.

You allow yourself a final sigh of relief, as the oxygen pump cycles through your lungs with Ace by your side.

note from cookie: wowie! this one was different from usual, i hope you all enjoyed! i had a lot of fun writing it and finally this bastard got what he deserved!!!

Special thanks to @kawaiikitty67 and @valyalyon for the ideas and inspiration!! tysm for the help!!!!! I needed it! i was in an inspirational rut for a while T.T <3

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darlincollins · 3 months ago

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HELLO HELLO, I am back! Do I come bearing updates on the many fics I left abandoned? No, but instead have an incomplete snippet from an AU I was writing where Darlin is raised by the Solaire clan that i lost motivation for but maybe will return to sometime; in this scene Sam meets a menace of a teenaged wolf and Vincent is plagued by his annoying little sibling, the aforementioned menace wolf:

The smell of blood awakens him- dangerous, jubilant, and so alive he forgets for a moment that he's dead. Fangs shoot out before he's even opened his eyes, eager to dig into flesh and cut into veins. Squeezing his eyes tight enough that staticky stars dance behind his eyelids, he wills them away. They ignore him, his feeble mental plea drowned out by urgent hunger. He hasn't eaten since that fucking dinner, hasn't sated this new hunger no matter how many bags of blood he's been brought, and his body is mutinying.

Accepting this defeat, Sam peels his eyes open, squinting into the dark room he's occupied for the past four days. The first thing he notices are the boots- big, black platform combat boots unceremoniously plunked on the bed near his shoulder. His eyes, immediately acclimating to the lack of light with an unnatural ease that disgusts him, follow the shape of the boots up to the face of their owner.

A kid sits in the chair by the bed, mashing buttons on a game device whose weak light illuminates the scowl on their face. Messy hair falls into their eyes, and they impatiently shake their head, temporarily exposing-

The pulse of their jugular vein beats like a hammer in Sam's chest, fangs aching, his entire body tense like a live wire, ready to pounce, and why why why the FUCK would they bring a defenseless child into this room-

"FUCK my fucking life!" The kid snaps, snarling at the game in their hands viciously enough that it cuts through the haze of hunger and panic clouding Sam's mind, and something instinctive makes the back of his neck tickle with the awareness of another predator in the room.

A wolf, he thinks, as the kid turns eyes too luminous to be human from their screen to his face, registering his consciousness despite the fact that he hasn't moved. But still, even a shifter is surely no match for the *thing* he is now-

"Oh. You're alive."

They sound unaffected by this revelation in a way that Sam feels distantly that he should be offended by.

"Sort of," he croaks, voice rusty from disuse and thirst. He can't quite force his eyes away from the place where their blood sings the loudest. "You should- you have to leave. It's dangerous-"

The kid snorts, slouching further in the chair. "No offense, but you really couldn't take me right now. You look like a melted candlestick."

Sam grits his teeth, fangs digging uncomfortably into his lower lip. He counts to ten. Even on a full stomach, without his entire body remaking itself on a cellular level, he isn't the most patient person in the world. "Listen-"

"So how long are you gonna keep up the hunger strike for?"

Sam wonders if he's already died, if this is hell and his eternal punishment is being continuously interrupted by a mouthy teenager. "What?"

"Like, you know you can't un-vampire yourself, right?"

"I am not trying-"

"They're not going to let you out until you have something to drink, you know. You'd be, like, the saddest and lamest public safety hazard ever, but still."

[Etc etc etc, 13 year old Darlin has no time or patience for silly little things like existential crises or moral codes and is kind of a dick about it, Vincent eventually comes to check on Sam]

[unfinished below, dialogue only]

"You brat! What did I tell you about coming in here? Sam, I'm so sorry-"

"Yeah, Sammy boy, sorry for existing in your presence, clearly you're super busy- OW- fucking- don't shush me-"

"Insensitive little- shouldn't you be doing your homework?"

"Shouldn't you be making out with a mannequin at the Hot Topic?"

"I'm telling William that you are harassing a convalescing man and being a truant from homeschooling, which by the way, should not be possible!"

"Aren't you, like, fifty? And still a tattletale, sad."

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted darlin #redacted sam #redacted vincent

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anticidic · 4 months ago

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Hello, if you don't mind, can I ask your top 5 favorite characters from BSD? Why you love them? And, what are your top 7 favorite moments from that series?

Also, from which author (BSD characters) have you read the books? Hope my question is not confusing.

Thanks if you want to answer....

ooh, hi!! sure!

this has gotten incredibly long, so I'll be putting a good portion of it under a read more.

Favorite characters

Dazai

Chuuya

Fyodor

Mushitaro

Ango

Dazai: He's the kind of character where just when I think I'm starting to finally crack the code and understand him, turns out nope, I was wrong all along with my interpretations and couldn't be more far off. I more "love-hate" him because I absolutely do not defend his past transgressions, but acknowledge he has come a long way from the dark place he used to find himself in.

What particularly interests me about him is his amorality. He does what he does or did what he did in the past and does not see his choices as good or bad, just a means to an end. And I like how that aspect of him clashes with Ango, where Ango would question why do we have to sacrifice one person to save 100 when we can save everyone? Having to sacrifice someone should not even be an option. Whereas Dazai would see it as sacrificing that one to save 100 and think nothing of it, because obviously saving as many people as possible is the goal, even if someone has to die for it. And also that the way he views the universe and the people: he treats it oddly, like it's all an experiment to study. He likes studying people, seeing what makes them crack, laugh, cry. And wants to understand why because what makes one person cry does not make him cry.

Chuuya: Man just can't catch a break sometimes. But I like that he's incredibly intelligent and empathetic. Obligatory read Stormbringer NOW. When he's put beside the likes of Dazai and Fyodor he ends up getting foreshadowed, but standalone he's shown that he's capable of making his own deductions and figuring people out in similar veins. Not to mention the fact that he's experienced loss time and time again, literally to those closest to him, but he still gets back up and dusts himself off. And the fact it hasn't embittered him to hold grudges against everyone—we still see how trusting he is of Dazai, for instance. And he still treats Shirase like a friend. I think he harbors a lot of guilt, but he doesn't let it break him.

Fyodor: It's still hard to have a 100% confident opinion of him with what's been going on in the manga up until now, but until the plot continues to advance, I'm standing with the side that I don't think he has a god complex, but more of a savior complex. He's so completely assured that he's doing the right thing and is blinded by the fact that he's actually hurting a lot of people in his quest to save people. He's burdened himself with the task of essentially saving the world of ability users and is taking on the consequences of doing so until the end. I think it ties in with his religious motifs.

Mushitaro: I was immediately drawn to him. He presents as a bit, well, grandiose at first. Thinks himself above others, detectives are basically the dirt beneath his feet, but (and this ties into one of my favorite moments) when it came time for Yokomizo to die and we saw just how distraught Mushitaro was over losing Yokomizo and having to be the one who carried that will out, those emotions were raw. The mask he had on just completely cracked and we see a man who is tasked with carrying out the will of his friend in the worst possible way, and does it anyway. He's no longer concerned about outsmarting and besting others. All he can think of is loss. It knocks him down from his metaphorical pedestal he believed himself to be on, just to learn he's like everyone else. He is not invincible.

Ango: I consider him an embodiment of guilt. He doesn't live for himself, he's like a puppet on strings being tugged in all different directions and forced to dance to the tune of the puppet master (in this case, the government). He basically has no free will. That he's self-aware some of the things he's had to do were wrong and would hurt people makes me respect that a lot. He knows he's no better than anyone else, and there isn't much he can do to make peace with that or make it up to others he's hurt in the process. He clearly has beliefs that conflict with the government, such as disagreeing with having to sacrifice any of its citizens for the greater good and the "killing two birds with one stone" choices like introducing Mimic to Japan in order to also try to wipe out the Port Mafia.

As for my favorite moments (I'll keep this shorter):

Perfect Crime Arc: I know this is cheating as a whole arc, but I thought it was very well-done. Ranpo's look of disbelief when he couldn't figure out it was Mushitaro behind the crime. How Mushitaro thought himself invincible. Then how it all came crashing down.

Mori putting Tachihara's hat back on after hunting dog reveal: Tachihara was the shocked one, while Mori had a knowing smile. He knew. And had absolutely nothing to say other than to put Tachihara's hat on his head.

Yosano vs Kajii fight on the train: we get a glimpse into who Kajii is and his beliefs, which I thought was neat. Wish we would've gotten more. Yosano didn't respect Kajii's disregard for life and his careless experimentation.

Nathaniel vs Akutagawa: I loved the easter egg that Akutagawa called himself 'diablo'. It wasn't to be edgy, but it was a reference of how real life Akutagawa thought of himself despite being extremely religious. He thought he would go to hell as he died with the bible in hand. Also, Margaret sacrificing herself.

Atsushi & Akutagawa vs Ivan: I liked the implications of this more so than the fight itself. Atsushi and Akutagawa working together, and they fuse their abilities together. The trust they had in one another to do that.

Buraiha Trio taking a photo together: Pretty self-explanatory. Thought it was pretty impactful of them all taking a photo and how it would be the last time they were together.

Dazai & Ango visiting Oda's grave: Also pretty self-explanatory. It's not animated, but Ango has visited Oda's grave even in the rain. And Dazai continues to visit his grave. It depicts the guilt Ango had, and that Ango and Dazai truly cared about Oda.

Authors whose books I've read:

(the entirety of The Guild's members)

Dazai

Chuuya (his poems)

Fyodor

Agatha Christie

Mori

Kenji

Atsushi

Ranpo

Ayatsuji

Bram Stoker

I have Yosano and Mushitaro planned, just haven't found the time to read their works. As well as Nikolai.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #thanks for the ask!!#and sorry for taking like 2 weeks to respond jesus i yapped #thoughts #asks

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0perfectimperfections0 · 1 year ago

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Hi fellow doll, I hope you're doing fine. I've been quite busy lately, college and life in general have been kicking my ass, so I was forced to take a step back from social media for a while to try to contain the chaos.

Firstly, I'd like to share a fun fact with you! I don't know if you're aware but did you know that Lou's Mansion has a Pool? You can see it more clearly in the Mansion's Concept Designs/Art on this site:

•https://www.claytonstillwell.com/ugly-dolls#23

However, the real reason for this ask is to present a possible answer/theory in regards to how the doll-sized phones came to be in the world of your stories (you can tell this is still related to our chat on Wattpad).

Recently, I came across the images you're seeing on Pinterest. They're Wide/Aerial Views of the Institute of Perfection and one thing that immediately stood out to me is that Giant Eye-Catching Dome behind the TV.

I mean what's its purpose, why is it even there to begin with and what's inside of it? I've been thinking about this for a while and would like to hear your thoughts about it as well, if you're willing to share them.

By any chance, have you seen the movie Wreck-it Ralph? There was a part where the villain enters the code of the game he's in and I think the Dome's purpose could follow a similar, if not equal, vein.

Now that I think about it, Lou and Vanellope's circunstances are almost identical, trapped in the same place for years without the option to leave, simply because of who they are and the traits they were born with, but didn't choose to have.

Sorry, I let my mind run on tangent there for a while, it wanders frequently which makes it hard to keep track of my line of thought.

To circle back to the main topic of discussion, what if the Dome is a Central Station of the Institute, like a Panel or Center for Command Control (or Command Control Center)? CCC for short? Ok, I'll stop trying to be funny...

Perhaps it could be a subroutine of the factory's software, a program linked to its network and wifi that contains all guidelines and rules that govern the Institute and must be followed and executed to keep it functional - a blueprint if you will - and is in charge of all commands, protocols, activities and operations being compiled and run by its machinery, such as the doll-scanner, the robots, the washing machine, the recycling, the Gauntlet plus the mechanical baby and dog and the Portal, just to name a few.

This means that it'd also take care of overseeing the integrity and performance of said machinery as well as its maintenance. It'd even be responsible for generating clouds and the artificial weather because apparently weather is still a thing, even though the Institute is inside of a factory.

I wonder if this subroutine would be run by an AI or simply an intelligent system/computer program. This world's version of Siri? 🤣

Or maybe I'm greatly exaggerating its function/letting my imagination run wild and it literally only gives Electricity for TV and Institute. Where was I going with this? /were we again?

Morever, it could be a storage unit that contains all collected, analysed and reviewed data regarding the inhabitants of the Institute and their responses, physical or emotional, to certain pre-determined stimuli.

It could also have a list of the factory's Perfection Standards: what consists/constitutes a Perfect Doll / product, its traits...

what can go to the market and which flaws/imperfections can't be ignored/overlooked and have to go to the recycling immediately, kinda like separating fruit/food

To sum up, it's the Institute's "rulebook", but instead of being specifically made for the prototype, it's more expansive and focuses on the Institute as a whole.

After the events of the movie, dolls with engineer role job created phones with recicled parts dangerous/turned the recycling into a good thing/while recycling was turned of and parts are human sized, plenty to spare and create phone since dolls come back now, have free time to assemble the parts and construct them and connected them to the signals/frequency emitted by the dome or they hack/steal or find out the password/'hijack' the signals🤣, use it to make them connect with each other but can't enter the dome without proper authorizations/permissions

Fun fact #2: Lou animatronic, would be a hipocrite if he called the Uglydolls "Ugly" has never seen a Mirror before

•https://www.indigobluepencil.com/ugly

Scroll almost to the middle (pre-planned concepts: dome by TV and washing machine, Big baby, Lou, Mandy, Tuesday and Kitty, Victoria, Perfection Council/of Dolls=board of investors directors reference)

•https://www.scottfassett.com/uglydolls-gallery

Had to restart Two Times... I hope you found this ask both entertaining and informative. Hopefully it'll give you Inspiration for your stories...

Okay, I had to do quite a bit of research and asked someone who knows a lot more about computers than I do.

So, I do agree that the dome has an electronic purpose. It really surprises me that STX animated an entire dome within the Institute and literally spoke nothing of it or what's inside of it. Like, seriously, it's huge and can't just be empty on the inside.

My theory, after some research, is that the inside of the dome is essentially a hard drive computer tower. For you younger folk who weren't raised in a 90's home, here's what I'm talking about:

These things right here used to be what would get hooked up to older Dell/Windows computers. The ones that weighed, like, 50 pounds and took up an entire desk.

Instead of a dvd player (which I didn't get one until maybe 8 years old) I would stick my Kidz Bop cd or movie into that slot at the top and watch the movie on the computer with Video Player.

Count your blessings.

But this is what I believe is inside that dome. These things are what holds the CPU (central processing unit), GPU (graphic processing unit), and stores the memory, data, audio, and everything of the computer.

@natalie-the-writer and I have a running fanon that the company is older. The technology is older, the building is older, and everything is set in a pretty retro time period. So, this hard drive tower is connected to those bulky take-up-all-the-space-on-the-desk-computers.

The GPU in this system is also what control the day/night cycle in the Institute and the weather. It essentially simulates a troposphere and an environment that makes the dolls comfortable and prepared for the Big World.

The CPU is how the data is transferred. Info from the robots is controlled and processed, the Individualization scanners are monitored, the portal is opened and closed, the TV runs, and the holographic tutorials Moxy and her friends see in the beginning are kept on, all of it.

It basically functions as the brain of the Institute, but the sole controller and monitor of it is the CEO (Greyson Everett).

I also like to think that Lou's microchip (another fanon thought between Natalie and I) is also monitored via this hard drive tower. Any information that Lou learns and processes is sent into separate files on the computers back in the company building.

This is why in my Shell-Shock series, when Lou's emotions go south, the Institute begins to get windy when he's hyperventilating or rains when he cries. The ground trembles when he has body tremors and the lights flicker when his powers are used. He is literally connected to the whole Institute because his microchip and its data accidentally grow and manifest themselves into the files of the other Institute functions. His programming basically goes rogue and infects the Institute system like a virus.

I'm veering toward the explanation that results in Lou being the first successful form of Artificial Intelligence. But, for the moment, he is basically acting like a virus and it's not until he learns to control this new system he's connected to that it stops becoming a deadly thing.

#uglydolls #lou #writing #ask #answer #theories #fanon theories #feel free to have your own thoughts #I'm just ranting #this is so interesting thank you for asking this

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snaillamp · 1 year ago

Text

Sicktember - day 8

8. Persistent fever

Hal’s body was covered in a light sheen of sweat as he walked up the stairs. He stumbled over a step, loosing balance. Joe’s strong arms caught him, steadying him, before he looked at Hal. “Hey, you okay?” Hal looked up, his tired eyes distant as he nodded. “Yeah… just tired…” Joe nodded, clearing his throat. “Come on, the boss is waiting.”

Hal nodded, standing straighter and following Joe up the stairs. Their boss, Jenny had called them in before shift today, it must be something important. They got to Jenny’s office, Joe knocking on the door and opening the door. “Hey, we’re here.” Joe looked back at Hal, beckoning him in and shutting the door.

The two men stood in front of their boss, watching her as she sat back and smiled. “Boys.” Hal and Joe looked at her, slightly nervous. Had they done something wrong? Received a complaint? Treated a patient incorrectly? They two of them stood in tense silence as Jenny stood up and walked around to the front of her desk, leaning against it. “I'm so sorry for doing this, but we had Michael and Sarah go home early, that virus going around, anyway, I need you both to take the night shift, no one else can do it.”

Hal groaned internally, that’s just what he needed. A night shift when he already felt so shit? Thanks, understaffing.

Hal and Joe both deflated, annoyed at they would have to do more overtime, but that was the nature of their job, right? They trudged back down the stairs, into the main room where they collapsed on the nearest couch, Hal’s eyes beginning to slide shut almost immediately. It was only 9:30 pm.

A loud, grating alarm emerging from his radio made him jerk violently out of his sleep. Joe was already up and listening to the words coming out of the radio. Hal’s mind was a few seconds behind the radio. Joe moved out of the door, Hal easing up slowly from the couch and clearing his throat. It had a slight tickle in it, but Hal pushed it from his mind.

As he raced to the ambulance, Joe was already grabbing things, running around like a maniac. “MVA, code 5, car v bus.” He gasped in Hal’s direction, sending a zing down Hal’s spine. Car and bus collision? It must be bad if it’s a code 5. Hal shot into action and within seconds, their ambulance was streaking down the street, lights and sirens blaring as they raced to the scene.

By the time they got there, there was already another ambulance and a fire truck taking up most of the road. A large bus was lying on it’s side, a massive Dodge Ram crumpled up some meters away. A firefighter emerged from the chaos, beckoning them over. Joe and Hal nodded, grabbing their bags and walked onto the scene. ‘Walk with purpose, no running…’ Hal reminded himself, trying to keep the adrenaline surging through his veins to a minimum. His heart was already pounding as he walked to the Ram, the firefighter walking around to the skylight, already smashed to pieces.

Hal took the lead, leaning in and looking at the young, drunk frat boy strapped to the seat. He was shaking, blood pouring down his forehead as he stared at Hal in fear. Hal’s mind flicked into gear as he began surveying his patient. “Hey, I’m Hal, can you tell me your name, man?” The frat boy looked down at Hal in fear, “J-Jas-s-son…” Hal nodded, “Okay, Jason, I’m gonna help you okay, but you need to do what I say. Now take a deep breath and calm down. I’ve got you.”

Jason drew in a shuddering breath as he tried to calm down, Joe popping up by the passenger window above him. “Hey, Jason, I’m Joe. Me ’n my buddy Hal over there are help you, so calm down for these firefighters okay?” Hal had moved into position, his tools ready.

The firefighters slid Jason out of the car, Joe and Hal descending onto him, assessing him from head to toe. “CAcBC looks okay.” Hal muttered to Joe as they slid head blocks around the frat boy’s head. “SMR though, just to be safe.” Joe confirmed, before looking down at Jason. “Hey Jason, ya hurting anywhere, man?” Jason tried to shake his head, before Joe placed a gentle hand on his chest. “Stay still for me buddy, talk to me.”

“I-I’m fine…” Jason stammered, looking scared. Now that both the paramedics were leaning over him, they could smell the scent of the alcohol in his breath. “Okay, let’s book it. The adrenaline might be masking something.” Hal suggested, as a firefighter brought over the stretcher from nearby.

It was lucky it was night time and the bus had only had the driver on board, he was fine, but it was Jason that Hal was worried about as he jumped in the back of the ambulance. Joe began the short drive to the hospital, as Hal sat back in his seat for a minute, shutting his eyes and taking a deep, shaky breath in. He wasn’t feeling great, but that wasn’t anything a coffee couldn’t fix when they were back at the station. Turning to Jason he continued to assess him, talking to the kid as he worked.

His head was starting to ache as he looked down, sniffing a little. “Mmnn… Okay, you seem good. You’re lucky kid.” Hal murmured, his voice croaking slightly. “This is your stop.” He said, sitting back in the seat for a second. His bones felt heavy as he took a deep breath. “You okay?” Jason asked nervously. Hal looked up, nodding tiredly. “Yeah… Just tired. Long week…” Joe pulled open the doors, coughing into his elbow quickly and saving Hal from any more conversation.

The two paramedics wheeled Jason in, Joe explaining to a waiting nurse what his situation was. Hal wheeled him to a waiting room, before wandering back to Joe, leaning against the wall nearby, watching the nurses bustle about. One of the nurses noticed him, coming over. “Hal?” Hal looked up, forcing his heavy eyelids open. “Hal, are you okay?” It was Claire, an older nurse who was like a mother to all the paramedics. Claire was a superhuman, able to calm the most violent patients and work the toughest shifts, and she always looked out for everyone.

Right now, she had zeroed in on Hal.

Joe came over, noticing Claire beginning to fuss over Hal and frowned. “Everything good?” He asked confused, the shadows under his eyes more obvious in the fluorescent light of the ER. Hal sighed, nodding tiredly. “Yeah… Just tired after everything, ya know.” His mind drifted to the massive structure fire all the first responders had been called to. A large conference hall had gone up in flames with many party goers inside. Hal and Joe had all worked non-stop until they were ordered to take a break, both of them collapsing into the beds at the station and sleeping for hours. Ever since that Monday night, people had been taking shifts off, plus some virus was going around and getting everyone sick, plus who knows what else. Claire put a gloved hand on Hal’s forehead.

“Hal, you feel a bit warm, honey. Maybe you should take the rest of your shift off.” Hal pulled away, “No, there’s no one else to fill in. It’s just one shift, I’ll survive.” Claire looked skeptical but stepped away. “Stubborn as always.” She retorted as Hal and Joe made their way towards the door.

In the ambulance, Joe glanced over at Hal, who was resting his face against the window, eyes shut as he tried to fight off the growing headache. “Hey, you sure you’re good?” Hal half opened his eyes, looking at Joe before sighing. “Mmmm… Yeah… Migrane I think.” Joe grimaced, “Wanna stop by Bear’s on the way, grab an energy drink and some pain killers?” Hal shut his eyes again, nodding slightly.

Joe pulled into the car park, the large, glowing red letters illuminating their faces in the ambulance. Hal stared up at the convenience store, unable to find the energy to get out. “Hey, it's my shout, I’ll go buy it.” Hal nodded, shutting his eyes as the door slammed shut...

A hand shoved him roughly, waking him up. “Aye, Hal.”

Joe looked at him as Hal jerked, sniffing as he looked up at Joe in confusion. “Hm?”

Joe thrust the energy drink and card at him, before undoing the seal on the box of paracetamol. “Here, buddy.” Joe’s voice lowered, slightly gravelly, his hand holding out the small tablet sheet. Hal cracked open the drink, savoring the sweet taste of artificial strawberries, taking the tablets and popping a couple out. Taking a swig of the can he following it up with the two tablets, grimacing at the taste, but gasping with relief once he swallowed. Joe hopped back in the driver’s seat, cracking open his own can of drink and setting off towards the station.

Hal continued to sip on his drink as Joe messed with the stereo, clearing his throat, before massaging his neck. He was flicking between ancient pop songs and grating christian country music, which sounded like a goose had recorded a hit on a potato powered tin can microphone whilst being strangled.

“Ugh… Turn that off, my ears are going to fall off.” Hal groaned, covering his ears. Joe laughed, turning the radio off as they pulled into the station. “Well, they'd be doing you a favour. We’re here anyway now, so...”

The paramedics got out of their ambulance, beginning the arduous yet necessary process of cleaning everything and restocking their supplies. Hal lost his balance, staggering a little after he pushed the stretcher back in, Joe rushing to grab him again. “Woah, Hal… What’s up with you?” Hal groaned, slumping against Joe’s body and hanging his head “Need to sleep…” He mumbled. Joe chuckled, “Alright buddy, come on.”

Hal and Joe made it to the break room, both collapsing on the couch with dramatic groans. Hal shut his eyes, rising his forearm on his pounding head. “Hey…” He groaned weakly. Joe looked up from the other couch, coughing a little. “Yeah?” Hal grimaced, before sitting up. “Can you grab me a glass of water… this migraine is really acting up…” Joe smiled softly, nodding as he stood, coming back with a cool glass of water. “Here, man.”

Hal took the glass gratefully, sipping the cool water and sighing. His mind seemed to settle as the paracetamol finally set in, but if he just kept telling him this was just a migraine...

As the night shift went on, Hal began feeling worse and worse. His skin broke out in a sheen of sweat and he began to shake. Cold chills danced down his bones as worked, doing paperwork, and checks on the ambulance. He didn’t notice Joe watching him as he shuffled slowly around.

“Hey, Hal, man… What’s up with you bro?” He was frowning over at Hal, slouched against the couch, typing at his computer. “I’m fi-ughhh…” A radio interrupted him, Joe and Hal both groaning in annoyance. They both piled into the ambulance, Joe taking the wheel and driving off into the night.

“Hal… Are you sure you’ve got a migraine? You look a little pale.” Hal, who had his arm propped against the door, leaning his head against his hand looked up. “Yeah. The pills helped but I think I just need some time to sleep, to be honest.” Joe glanced at him, worried. “Nightmares again?” Hal didn’t reply, but Joe knew Hal struggled with nightmares especially after a week like they'd had. Everyone got them, that was the nature of the job, but Hal seemed to get them more than most. It was usually about the same brutal case though. Kids were never fun to treat, especially after house fires. He sniffed, looking back to the road, trying to push the headache forming slowly from his mind.

They pulled up at the address, walking to the door and knocking. “Hello? Ambulance!” Joe called out. Hal tried the door, it was unlocked. That figured, it was a pretty upscale neighbourhood, no one locked their doors in this part of town. It was dumb, really, but helpful for situations like this. Or it was a sign of danger… Hal and Joe decided to take their chance.

“Hello?” Hal called out, his voice weaker and rougher sounding than Joe’s. Joe threw him a look, Hal knowing what it meant. ‘You’re sick, admit it.’

“Over here!” A feeble voice called out in the darkness. Joe fumbled for a light switch, finding it and illuminating the hallway with a warm white light. Gleaming white tiles almost blinded the two paramedics as they walked further into the suave house. “Get your asses into gear!” The voice called out again. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen, directly in front of them.

Walking over, Hal and Joe found an elderly woman lying on the ground, a shattered glass beside her and water spilled everywhere. “Took you long enough!” She grumbled.

Switching into gear, Hal and Joe got down on their knees, assessing her whilst she rambled on about how long it took for them to get there. Joe muttered something, masking his sarcasm as he apologised for how sorry he was it took them so long. It seemed to shut her up for a while, whilst Joe grabbed the stretcher. Helping her onto it, the two of them strapped her in and set off for hospital, worried about a broken hip. “Car 0471, we are headed to Sacred Heart with a suspected NOF, ETA is 15 minutes.” Hal heard Joe as he rattled off into his message, clearing his throat, before the ambulance started slowly down the road. The woman, Doreen, seemed much happier now she had some analgesia. She chattered away to Hal about her gardenias and fancy pool and retirement, as Hal slouched in his chair, nodding away, but not really listening as he began to feel worse and worse. By the time the ambulance got to the hospital, Hal could barely move, he felt so shivery and cold.

Joe pulled the doors open, dragging Doreen from the back, whilst Hal stumbled out after her. They pushed her inside, wheeling her into a waiting examination room and handing over to the doctor standing by. Claire appeared from nowhere, smiling tiredly as the two paramedics signed over some documents. “If it isn’t my two favourite paramedics! How’s the night treating you, boys?” Joe smiled tiredly, turning to Claire and chatting as Hal swayed slightly, buzzing in his ears making his head hurt and vision blur. He heard Claire in the distance, echoey and concerned. “Hal, honey… Are you- shit, he’s going down!”

Everything went black.

Hal groaned softly, swaying a little beside Claire. She turned, looking at his glazed over expression as he stared at nothing. His shoulders were drooping, arms hanging heavily by his side as the blood drained from his face. “Hal, honey…” She started, her tone sympathetic and low. Hal’s eyes flicked to her for a second before they rolled back and his knees buckled. “Are you- shit, he’s going down!” Claire grabbed Hal, lowering him to the ground slowly, as another nurse came rushing over.

“Dr. Tang!” Claire yelled across the room at a doctor, who raced over, skidding to a stop by Hal and Joe. “What happened?” He breathed, checking Hal’s pulse. “He’s tachy, get a stretcher over here!” He called out, two nurses already rushing over with one. “On go, 3, 2, 1, GO!” Dr. Tang ordered, helping Claire and Joe lift Hal’s limp body off the floor. Joe followed anxiously behind the stretcher as the doctor and nurses continued their work.

“He’s getting worse, the fluids aren’t doing anything… Strip him down, get him cool.” Dr Tang ordered. Joe looked up sleepily from his chair, confused. His head was beginning to ache, had been since the shift, but it was barely noticeable before. He glanced at Hal, hooked up to an IV as a nurse pulled him out of his uniform. Saturated with sweat, his shirt peeled off his chest as the nurse exposed it, patting it down with a cool compress.

Joe groaned, leaning back in the chair he was splayed out in, feeling worse and worse as the sickness crept up his spine. Dr Tang glanced over at Joe, looking concerned, “Hey, Joe… You alright brother?” Joe gasped, letting his head drop back over the back of the chair, groaning again. “Nhhh… I’m okay, just… I think Hal and I got the virus going around after all. I don’… I don’t feel so good…”

Dr Tang walked over to him, checking his temperature. “You’re hot. I think I should admit you as a precaution, Joe.” Joe waved him away. “No… Save a bed for someone who needs it, I’ll go home later… I just wanna make sure Hal’s okay.” He looked over at his friend, watching his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We only got one day off this week… Then the two guys on got sent home cause they got sick… We got called in…” Joe squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ll have a quick nap so I can drive home… Then I’ll go.” Dr Tang smiled, “Okay, let me know if you need anything.”

Joe nodded, his eyes already shut as he leaned back, his skin looking pale. He was starting to go downhill faster than Hal had, it was concerning Dr Tang. ~~

Dr Tang walked in two hours later, checking on Hal. His fever was persistent, his temperature had only gone up, despite his efforts to cool him down. He looked up as Joe, still passed out beside his partner. “Hm… Stubborn as usual.” He chuckled. Walking over to Joe, he looked at him closer, frowning. Joe looked washed out, sweat beading on his forehead, his breaths slow and shallow. “Joe?” Dr Tang spoke up, looking for a reaction.

Nothing.

Reaching forward, he gently shook the paramedic, who slumped sideways, falling from the chair. “Fuck- Joe!” Dr Tang jumped forwards, grabbing Joe before he hit the ground at the last second. “Hey, I need another bed in here!” He yelled, looking around desperately for help.

Claire came rushing in, a stretcher following close behind. “Oh no… Not him too…” Dr Tang looked up in concern, nodding. “Oh, Joe…” Claire pushed her way into the room, helping Dr Tang lift Joe up. As he was carried to the stretcher Joe groaned, lifting his head as his eyes fluttered open. “What’s…” His head dropped, before Dr Tang and Claire lay him out on the stretcher. “Wow, he crashed fast, huh?” Dr Tang mumbled as he worked to help Claire hook Joe up to an IV. “Yeah, and Hal isn’t improving, this fever is getting worse.” Dr Tang looked up at her, “I can only hope we can get on top of this…”

Hal pulled open his eyes, shivering and coughing as he awoke. He glanced around, looking for Joe, wondering how long he had managed to sleep for. Surely his shift was over now. It dawned on him he wasn’t at work, the hustle and bustle of the ER around him finally clicking in his mind. He was lying in hospital. Wait… He was lying in hospital…?

“Joe?” He moaned, looking for his partner again. “Joe!” Claire came running in, looking relieved. “Hal! Oh, honey, look at you…” She softened, looking at him as she began taking his vitals again. “Where’s Joe…?” Hal rasped, looking up at her. “Hal… Joe collapsed too. You're both so overworked, fatigued and sick.” Hal frowned, “Joe is sick too?” Claire nodded, “I’m surprised you didn’t notice him slowing down too, you both got admitted.”

Fear crossed Hal’s face, “But what about the shift?” Claire smiled softly, brushing some hair from Hal’s sticky forehead. “Honey, it’s okay. Your shift ended 6 hours ago. Jenny called some guys over from the next town.” “And Joe?” He watched Claire’s face fall. “He’s not doing great. You were both really hyperthermic, we got you cooled down a little, just waiting on Joe to improve. You’re both pretty out of it right now.” “Can I… see him?” Hal gasped, pulling the blanket around his waist a little higher. “Later. Get some rest, huh?” Claire compromised, hiding the fear in her face.

Joe groaned, rolling his head from side to side, trying to open his eyes. “Joe?” Hal’s anxious voice broke through the haze of sickness. “Take it easy, take it easy…” He felt a hand take his own. Finally, Joe managed to open his eyes, his eyes locked onto a blurry figure, taking a minute to focus, revealing a bedraggled looking Hal. “Shit… You look like hell.” He murmured.

Hal smirked, “Says the one who looks worse than me…” Joe looked around the room, the effort already tiring him out.

“How long?”

“Two days.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

He looked at Hal again, sighing, before he was overcome by coughs. “The virus is pretty brutal, but it clears pretty quickly. I’m already on the mend.” Hal smiled weakly as Joe wheezed, finally catching his breath.

“So I guess we finally got that break we were asking for…” He joked, coughing again. “Yeah…” Hal chuckled, coughing himself. “Use it while you can, man. I sure am…” He looked concerned. “Apparently it got pretty bad out there, most of the station is out of action right now.”

“Jeez…”

“I know.”

Joe sighed, shutting his eyes again, “Well, all the more reason to get back out there, huh?” He heard Hal move, exhaling loudly with the effort. “Hell yeah, brother.”

~masterlist~

#whump #original post #sickfic #whump writing #whumpblr #snaillamp #whumpee #sicktember 2023 #day 8 #i wrote this whilst practicing for my trauma exam but was too tired to bother putting any treatment in lmao

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imogenkol · 6 months ago

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pairing: Imogen Kol (oc) x Bix Caleen word count: 3k rating: mature (18+) warnings: death mention, emotional and physical trauma tags: hurt/comfort, still repressing those feelings, but we're getting there read it on ao3! / previous chapter

Summary: after the traumatic death of Timm and a less than warm goodbye with Cassian, Bix seeks out an unlikely source of comfort.

The yacht’s comms crackled with a distorted voice. “ – you copy?”

Imogen almost ignored it, but she thought familiarity might’ve caught her attention. She adjusted the frequency and listened.

“Imogen?” Bix’s voice came through, sounding clearer. “Are you there?”

Profound shock caused Imogen’s body to freeze. Even if they hadn’t agreed to part ways for good, Bix never contacted her through such obvious means. Imogen always received coded messages for the safety of them both, but Bix didn’t seem to care about that anymore. Perhaps she felt more scorned than Imogen previously thought.

At first, she felt a strong burst of anger. Imogen’s hand hovered over the control panel with the intention to switch her comms off, but something made her hesitate. Just as her mind pinpointed the source of her body’s betrayal, Bix tried to reach her again.

“I know you’re there, just –” the mechanic’s weathered sigh hissed through the speaker. Something caused her tone to waver just enough for Imogen to notice. “Please answer.”

Imogen’s outstretched hand became a tight fist and, with a clenched jaw, she placed her headset on. “What do you want?”

“Look, I know we ended things, but… I just need to see you.”

Imogen scoffed. “Why?”

“Timm is dead.”

Loud silence filled the cabin of the ship. Imogen couldn’t really fathom how the idiot got himself killed in such a short amount of time, but it was clear that Bix had been shaken up by his demise. Her distress pulled at Imogen’s impulses no matter how hard she tried to ignore the defeat in her tone.

After the silence dragged on, Bix continued. “There’s more. The Empire has taken control of Ferrix.”

Utter exasperation caused Imogen to shake her head. All those people had to do was carry on exactly like they have been. Now they’ve managed to sentence their entire planet to eventual doom. “How did this happen?”

“I’ll explain everything in person. Are you coming?” There wasn’t a single shred of hope in the question like Bix knew that Imogen would refuse. Her request had been desperate.

The presence of the Empire was enough to ward the former Inquisitor off of Ferrix for good. Bix understood that. Yet, Imogen couldn’t think of anything else besides the grief stricken sound of her voice over the comms. Another long pause passed between them before Imogen’s resolve drove a stake into her chest. “I’m setting a course now.”

Ferrix wasn’t too far from the system Imogen had been orbiting. Her bounties weren’t going anywhere, though she did take a moment after landing to check on their vitals. Carbonite could be a fickle thing on occasion. Confident that she would still receive full payment for their living condition, she pulled her hood up and stepped off the ship.

Dawn had barely begun to tear through the gray painted sky. While Ferrix had never been a busy planet at this hour, Imogen sensed a shift in the air immediately. Things were too quiet. As if the entire community were muzzled. Imogen was once a harbinger of the very subjugation she recognized as she walked the streets. A certain power used to course through her veins during those moments where others had no choice but to bend to her will – an unstoppable, addictive rush in what her rage had wrought. Now all she felt was nothing. A cold, haunting nothing.

A glimpse of white armor in the distance signaled an oncoming patrol and Imogen darted into an alleyway.

I shouldn’t bother with this, her mind fretted. Stormtroopers were little challenge on their best day, but if it came to a fight, that would only mean more trouble for herself. This isn’t worth it. An odd creak came from her leg as she hurried to keep out of sight. Even more reason not to be here. But of course, Imogen continued towards the Caleen Salyard, slinking her way through the shadows to avoid the Imperials.

The salvage yard was empty, but Bix’s lights were on as Imogen approached her door. She tapped her knuckles against it. “It’s me, I’m here.”

Imogen paced in lazy circles while she waited for Bix to answer. She put extra weight on her cybernetic leg. The next creak shifted through the metallic joints and nearly caused her to lose balance. During the last bounty she collected, she unwisely made a risky jump from one rooftop to another. The resulting impact put strain on her body, but she hadn’t thought much of it at the time. It seemed there might be some damage to the prosthetic after all. Imogen made a mental note to get it serviced.

The front door finally opened with a mechanical whoosh. While Imogen’s expectations were low, seeing Bix with an extremely noticeable bruise on her temple completely caught the bounty hunter off guard.

“Bix.” Imogen rushed for the mechanic before she could stop herself. She gently cupped Bix’s face and turned her head to examine the wound. A fresh gash peeked through her hairline and Imogen felt a flush of anger in her chest. “Did the troopers do this?”

“No.” Bix closed her eyes like she might be avoiding Imogen’s gaze, but she leaned into her touch and allowed Imogen to look at her as long as she wanted. Or maybe she was just too tired to pull away. Imogen noticed the dark circles under her puffy eyes and the way her shoulders slumped.

“What happened, Bix?” Imogen prompted and reluctantly dropped her hands.

Bix took a moment to scan their surroundings before motioning at Imogen. “Come inside.”

“Was that Timm’s doing?” Imogen asked once the door slid shut behind them. She angrily pushed her hood down.

Without so much as glancing over her shoulder, Bix shuffled into the kitchen. “Do you want some caf?”

Imogen put her hands on her hips. “Not as much as I would like an explanation. Particularly one that explains why I’m here.”

Bix finally threw her a weak excuse for a smirk as she prepared two cups. “Pretty sure you’re the only one that can answer that.”

I came because you asked me to, felt like a pathetic excuse, so Imogen ignored her remark and accepted the cup of caf Bix offered. “There isn’t a lot that would motivate the Empire to seize control of a free trade planet.”

“No,” Bix agreed and took a quick sip. “But a shootout with a bunch of corpos does the trick, as it turns out.”

Imogen shook her head and scoffed. Corpos were even more useless than Stormtroopers. Fools, the lot of them. “How exactly did that occur?”

“They were looking for Cassian. Timm ratted him out…” It looked like Bix nearly choked on those last four words. She grimaced down at her cup as if it became too foul to drink.

“So it was Timm’s fault.”

“Some blame Cassian.” Bix shrugged. For how exhausted she appeared, her fingers tapped restlessly against the side of the cup in her hands. “What does it even matter? Timm is dead. Cassian is gone.”

“And I’m here,” Imogen added like an accusation.

The mechanic’s face fell. “I haven’t forgotten our last conversation. I just needed… someone.”

Despite the urge to move closer, Imogen stayed still. “For what?”

Bix’s gaze locked on the bounty hunter’s, those deep brown irises unable to hide the pain tearing her up inside. “Comfort.”

Imogen hadn’t forgotten their last conversation, either. Nor could she forget the will it took not to surrender herself to the woman in front of her. Now she asked for comfort. Imogen knew nothing of the sort, not even for herself. She set her cup aside and found it hard to look the other woman in the eye. “To what end, Bix?”

Bix released such a heavy sigh that her shoulders looked even heavier than before. She smiled flatly and shook her head. “Forget it. Get out.”

No amount of effort could make Imogen ignore the sudden pit in her gut. “Bix –”

“No, it was stupid of me to ask.” Bix’s voice shook and she slammed her cup down on the nearest flat surface.

Imogen had no clue what came over her. It felt like a foreign entity seized control of her body as she swiftly closed the growing distance between them and pulled Bix into an embrace. Bix stiffened in Imogen’s arms. For a moment, she tried to push her away, but there was hardly any effort in her attempt. With a choked sob ringing in her ears, Imogen felt the mechanic utterly melt into her.

In a way, the fight drained out of both of them. Bix succumbed to her torment. Imogen gave up on resisting the persistent pull towards a woman she didn’t deserve. They simply clung to each other and abandoned any conviction that would stop them from doing so.

“I was so stupid,” Bix whimpered into Imogen’s shoulder. “And there was nothing I could do – nothing.”

Imogen didn’t trust herself with words, so she planted her lips on the side of Bix’s head. That odd, warm sensation settled inside Imogen’s chest again as she shut her eyes and inhaled some of Bix’s scent. Imogen liked this. She liked holding her. She liked the way her hair tickled her face. The only thing she could do without were the painful sobs wracking through the woman in her arms. Even more bewildering was the desire to chase those tears away.

“I’m here,” Imogen said again, this time without any hint of irritation.

Bix pulled back and carefully cradled Imogen’s face. She had never touched her this way before – had never looked at her with such fondness. Imogen got distracted by her deep brown eyes. The richness shimmered with unshed tears and Imogen saw herself reflected clearer than ever. “Thank you,” Bix said through a strained whisper.

All she managed was a nod before Bix delicately brushed her mouth with a chaste kiss. Imogen moistened her lips as she resisted the desire to lean in for more. She tasted salt on the tip of her tongue and thought maybe Bix might need physical distraction. It would certainly be the easiest offering for Imogen. “Is that the kind of comfort you want?”

Bix shook her head and caressed Imogen’s cheeks with calloused hands. “Just stay with me for a little while. I don’t want to be alone.”

Not even a hint of disappointment twisted in her gut. “Okay.”

The two of them found seats beside each other on the couch. Bix released her torment in waves, alternating from crying into Imogen’s shoulder to staring off at nothing in particular in quiet contemplation. She maintained physical contact, though. Whether it was a trembling hand grasping at any part of Imogen it could find or their sides brushing together during a break in the storm, Bix always had to touch her. Imogen silently allowed whatever she needed without judgment.

The bell eventually rang outside. Soon the streets of Ferrix would be teeming with workers. It would be crawling with Stormtroopers, too. Imogen didn’t feel concerned, crowds were easier to blend into, but she did worry for her mechanic. Bix’s secret trade could land her in an Imperial cell if they ever found out.

“Maybe,” Imogen started. The words were dry and heavy in her mouth. “Maybe you should leave Ferrix.”

Bix slowly turned her weary head to blink at Imogen. “What?”

“You should go offworld. Get far away from here and start new.”

“With you?”

Imogen swallowed hard and nodded. “I can take you wherever you want to go.”

Bix’s features softened so much that it tightened Imogen’s chest. She sighed almost wistfully at the idea, but said “I can’t, Imogen. I have my parents’ salvage yard and I need to keep an eye on Maarva, too.”

“Since when is Maarva your responsibility?” she grumbled.

“When someone matters to you,” Bix said, reaching over to place her hand on Imogen’s good knee. “You do what you can to care for them.”

The bounty hunter studied the way Bix’s thumb brushed back and forth, grateful that it had been on her intact leg. She wouldn’t have been able to feel her otherwise. “I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“You know,” she gently insisted.

“Bix…” Imogen sighed.

“You’ve been saying my name a lot.”

After a moment of hesitation, Imogen looked up. Bix stared so intently into her eyes that Imogen couldn’t break from her gaze even if she wanted to. A part of her did want to – the part inside of her that screamed to hold her ground. She wondered if it ever occurred to Bix that walking away from her had been the closest thing to caring that Imogen was capable of.

She never fully understood how compassion worked. That turned out to be her biggest problem under the tutelage of the Jedi, but her greatest tool as an Inquisitor. Neither offered her the opportunity to form a proper attachment and learn what it means to care about someone other than herself. It dawned on Imogen as she studied Bix that this might be the only person in the entire galaxy she has ever truly cared for.

“Swear to me you’ll keep a low profile,” Imogen requested and placed her hand on top of Bix’s where it still rested on her knee. “No more deals under the table. Don’t reach out to any offworld contacts.”

“Does that include you?”

“Do you want it to?”

“No,” Bix answered immediately.

The corner of Imogen’s mouth twitched with the flash of a smile. “Then promise me and… and I’ll come back whenever you call.”

Bix’s soft, genuine smile lasted long enough that Imogen had the opportunity to commit it to memory. She really is beautiful. It’s not that Imogen hadn’t noticed before, it’s that she hadn’t let herself appreciate Bix’s beauty with affection. The woman’s features were always something that brought forth a hunger to crave and possess. Now she was something to simply just admire for what she is.

“I promise.”

“Good.”

“Now,” Bix’s hand switched to pat Imogen’s metal knee. “Can I get a look at this leg? You’ve shifted your weight.”

Imogen released an amused breath, both at her perceptiveness and her need to always fix something. “It’s a prosthetic, not a ship.”

Bix shrugged. “Can’t hurt to take a peek. Maybe you just have a screw loose.”

Imogen cocked an eyebrow. “And if you fry the neural interface?”

“I’m a way too skilled mechanic for that and you know it,” she bit back.

After another moment of hesitation, she nodded. “Fine.” At the very least, it was an excuse to stay a little longer… to keep Bix close.

Imogen opted out of synthflesh when she received her cybernetic leg, leaving most of the inner workings exposed without clothing. It made for easier accessibility for maintenance, but she mostly wanted a constant reminder of what Vader had so casually taken from her. She remembered lying on the floor of the training room, clutching the burned stump of her leg, and listening to her new master drone on about the importance of loss. The lesson had been pointless. He knew nothing about what she lost. Or what she took.

Bix had her walk around without pants to pinpoint the issue. Imogen usually underwent this process with medical droids and felt a bit foolish in Bix’s home, but she still silently obeyed every instruction. The mechanic eventually muttered something about an offset joint and sat Imogen back on the couch to get a closer look.

With the cybernetic leg outstretched, Bix knelt on the floor and leaned over it to tinker with the mechanisms in her knee. One arm rested on Imogen’s thigh as Bix got pulled into her element. Imogen may as well have been a ship for how concentrated the mechanic was. She wanted to watch her work more than anything, but Imogen averted her gaze to avoid irritating Bix.

Even indoors, the chill of Ferrix caused the bounty hunter to shiver and her exposed skin to prickle with goosebumps. Out of the corner of her eye, Imogen saw Bix glance up. She made an effort to suppress her body’s reaction to the cold.

“There’s a blanket behind you,” Bix told her.

“I’ll survive,” Imogen dismissed. “You’re almost done.”

Bix leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart. Imogen stiffened and felt like she might fall into those rich brown eyes of hers, but she quickly realized the mechanic only reached for the blanket. As Bix placed it on Imogen’s lap, she smiled with a hint of coyness and said “It’s gonna be a few.”

“You’ve made me your responsibility as well, it seems.”

“Like I said before,” Bix murmured absentmindedly as she returned to work. There seemed to be more she planned to say, but Imogen noticed her hesitate as if she caught herself. “I’m grateful you came,” she continued. The tone of her voice sounded more formal. “And this gives me something to do.”

Imogen saw right through the deflection. When someone matters to you, you do what you can to care for them.

“You’re wasting your time,” Imogen warned. She meant it matter-of-factly. One only nurtures to see something change, typically in ways that are considered better by the perspective of the person devoting their efforts. If Imogen learned anything from her first master, it was that. Others had tried to make her right for so long that she finally turned wrong.

Bix shrugged without looking back up. “Then it’s a good thing it’s mine to waste.”

Imogen didn’t really know what to make of that response. She simply stared down at her mechanic quizzically and admired her casual confidence in the silence that followed. The lack of resistance in Imogen’s chest allowed her to relax in the late morning light that shined through the windows of Bix’s home. The rising presence of the sun brought little warmth with it, but Imogen began to learn that there were other means to chase away the cold.

#oc insp: imogen kol #ship insp: if i had a heart #fic: if i had a heart

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spgothkidsheadcanons · 2 years ago

Note

perhaps a silly little Pete x reader where the reader confesses their feelings to Pete? 🤭🤭

Hi friend, I’m late, sorry!!

This was so sweet 🥹 I enjoyed writing this one, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for your ask! 💞

I’ve color coded words, so:

Reader = Pink

Pete = Red

~~~~~~

It was the summer after you had graduated when you began to notice certain things about Pete that made you fall in love with him. The way he always griped but went out of his way to help others, the way his face scrunches when he doesn’t have enough sugar in his coffee, and the way he grinned at you after he did something you disapproved of. All of those things that you have seen thousands of times has somehow begun flustering you, especially his cheeky smile. The smile that he flashes when he does something he knows he shouldn’t, but it’s too much fun for him not to.

Yes, you had realized you had fallen in love with your bestfriend, and the very thought of that horrified you to no end. It shouldn’t feel weird hanging out with him like you usually did, but now you couldn’t even look Pete in the eyes without your cheeks flushing and losing your train of thought. Sitting on your bed, you sighed, laying back to stare at the ceiling. You chewed on your bottom lip as your mind wandered to the goth that you’ve known for years. Whenever you had nothing to do, he was the first person you’d go to to annoy and fuck around with. But no matter how much you bothered him, he always accepted you with open arms, claiming that you weren’t as annoying as anybody else, and he’d rather spend his time with you.

Your cheeks began feeling warm, and you groaned exasperatedly. This was bad. Really bad. Especially since you had made plans with Pete for the day. Sitting up, you decided to just get dressed, and avoid the butterflies that danced in your stomach everytime you start talking to him. Or when he talks to you. Or when he looks at you…

Yeah, you were fucked, kid.

Regardless of how you felt, you threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, fighting the urge to call Pete and let him know you couldn’t make it today. This little crush wasn’t going to come between you and you’re best friend. It would pass, just as all of your other crushes have. Grabbing your bag, you shoved your phone into it, put on your shoes, and began your trek to the Goth’s house. It was only a short, 5 minute walk, but every minute felt longer and longer, a sense of dread running through your veins. Each step up his driveway felt like walking on coals, but you pushed through, trying to keep your mind on everything but Pete.

You finally arrived at his door step, staring at the wooden door that seperated you and him. Bringing your arm up, you rapped your knuckles on the door, settling your appendage back down to your side. Rocking back and forth on your feet, you only had to wait a few seconds before the door swung open, the familiar red and black haired person you’ve caught feelings for standing in the doorway. “Hey, (y/n). Come in.” he said, nonchalant. Obliging, you walked in, making a beeline for his living room. Plopping down on the couch, you set your bag beside you, eyes immediately focusing on the tv ahead of you.

Pete closed the door, making his way to the couch and sitting on the other end. Both of you sat in silence, eyes fixated on the television. Despite the semi-interesting show that was playing, your mind raced as you thought about the fact that your crush/best friend was sitting beside you. The butterflies were swarming in your chest, and you resorted to picking at the skin around your nails to keep your brain occupied. The only cure for this stupid infatuation with Pete was to let him know. Whether you get rejected or not, you knew it would be the only way to remedy your feelings. Taking a few breaths, you turned to face the man beside you.

“Uh… Pete… There’s something I have to tell you.” you came out right and said it. The man in question looked to you, his focus on the tv turned to you. Now that he was staring at you, you couldn’t help but feel sick. It suddenly felt hot in the room. Everything but Pete became fuzzy, your eyes honing in on his own. You didn’t even realize you had him sitting there, staring at you for the last 3 minutes, yet saying nothing. Pete’s eyebrow raised, confusion present on his face. “What’s up?” he pried, a question hint on his words.

Swallowing your nerves, you sighed, looking down at the cushion of the couch. “Pete… I’m gonna tell you something and I don’t want it to affect our current relationship,” you started picking at your fingers again, not looking up, “And whatever, I want you to know that I still want to be friends, and I hope it doesn’t make you hate me forever.” You wanted to see his face, but you couldn’t even gather the courage to. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself, already anticipating his rejection.

“But I care for you… Like… more than just friends. I thought it was just a stupid, fleeting thing, but since we graduated, I’ve actually had time to reflect on you. On us. And how caring you are, even though you don’t want to be perceived like that. But you are caring, and that’s probably why I like you. But I could also just like you because I like you. But I don’t want to ruin anything, and I’m waiting for you to tell me no now, so I can only be upset for a little bit and we can keep being friends-“

“Dude, shut up.”

You’re head snapped up, shock evident on your features. Pete had an amused smile on his face, listening to your senseless ramblings as you confessed to him. Your own brows furrowed, cheeks heating up in the moment. “What?” you asked, looking for clarification. “I said, shut up. You sound like somebody from an anime right now.” he stated, snickering at his own comment. “I like you, too.” he added, using air quotes around the word “like”.

“Also, we’re adults, so I’m not gonna say that dumb shit again. But, I reciprocate your feelings, so just shut up and come here.” he opened his arms. You sat for a moment, then, like in a cheesy anime, you ungracefully leapt towards him, wrapping your arms around his form. “Oh thank God, I was worried that I was gonna have to fake my death and change my name.” you sighed into his chest, relief rushing over you. Pete landed a soft smack to your head, laughing at your words. “Nah, don’t worry. I’m just glad you said something cause we both know I wasn’t gonna say anything.” he murmured, beginning to run his fingers through your hair.

Now that the butterflies had left your system, and you had confessed everything to Pete, you sighed in content as you laid on top of him, almost purring as his fingers stroking your scalp. For the rest of the afternoon, and hopefully you’re life, you were perfectly happy to just stay here, in your bestfriend-turned-boyfriend’s arms.

#sp goth kids #south park goth kids #sp fanfiction #south park headcanons #south park pete #sp pete #south park pete x reader #sp pete x reader #sp pete thelman #south park pete thelman #south park fanfiction #fanfic request

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everythingfromdust · 2 years ago

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What Homestuck is About

I don’t remember writing this, I never finished writing this, and I just found it in my drafts. If you asked me today to come up with what homestuck is about I would not be able to go into this level of detail at all. here you go.

the post;

As told by someone who hasn’t read Homestuck.

Before I begin, lets go over my Homestuck experience. At some point in like 2010 probably people got obsessed with zodiac symbols for some reason, and also candy corn horns. I saw them around and they did not affect me in any way. A few years ago I was commissioned to draw Homestuck fanart, I was linked a video of nonsense about some dude who controlled planets with his veins maybe. This was for inspiration for the drawing. I drew fanart, they liked it. After that happened I found out that I had been drawing other Homestuck fanart by commission, about a green planet or something, this was a surprise to me. I found this strange, told my friend who liked Homestuck and he told me to read it. I read the first few pages and got bored, I am sorry to your fandom, it just wasn’t my thing. What was my thing, was reading random-ass theories about Homestuck and looking at fanart as it came on my dashboard.

Now, with that in mind, here is what Homestuck is about...

Homestuck is a webcomic about 4 teenagers, Dave, Rose, Karkat (Online handle?) and Egbert. Egbert and Rose are the same age, they are friends by convenience but don’t have a lot in common. Dave is Egbert’s cool older brother who is also an asshole sometimes but only to hide his fragile ego. Karkat is a loner type who is sarcastic. Rose has a crush on Karkat but they have never met in person. Rose is also very sarcastic, but hers is more mean spirited while Karkat is just defensive with a kind heart.

Karkat is way more into videogames than the rest of them, and ends up being the ‘leader’ of the group, ironically as most of her motivation is to be alone. However, Rose likes her, so she follows Karkat’s lead with regards to what games they play online, Egbert follows Rose because he doesn’t have other friends, Dave has to keep an eye on his little brother so follows them on their adventures reluctantly (but slowly learns to be part of the group). The first story arc establishes the characters and the world. The viewer interacts with these characters through the occasional videogame interface but mostly a webcomic format. The characters are very meta and self aware which is funny without getting into too much action before...

Suprise plot twist Karkat realizes they have been playing a game copy of their own lives within a webcomic/web-game thing. We find out later that she suspected this all along and only wanted to be alone because she thought everyone else was a simulation.

Almost immediately Dave thinks that this plot twist is stupid, and the meta commentary on Homestuck itself reaches new sarcastic heights. The fandom takes this idea and runs with it, causing many fans to insist that Homestuck sucks.

When they break into ‘reality’ Karkat is shocked to find that the other three have come as well. Thus begins her overarching subplot of learning to trust others and believing she can fall in love with Rose. Karkat and Rose question still if this reality is really the real one. Spoiler: It isn’t. While they try to discover the why and how of their situation Egbert is busy altering the code of the game to give himself insane powers and become ‘god tier.’ Dave is doing stuff to, but I think it’s mostly just fucking off and making jokes.

There are monsters called trolls with candy-corn-horns at some point, but I’m lead to believe that they aren’t actually a big part of the story even though they are widely loved by fans. They probably happen early on in the story which is why they are fairly iconic for the series. The trolls are sentient too, each represents a sign of the zodiac, and each main character has a troll that is ‘them’ in an alternate game reality. So there are 4 trolls that represent the main characters, and this is symbolic somehow especially when you think about the 8 trolls who have no ‘main character’ components.

Insane Clown Posse is involved somehow but I don’t understand if they are plot relevant or just a joke that the comic creator likes to fall back on.

So anyway, eventually all the characters go god tier, they have to figure out their own personal way to get there and I bet it is really plot heavy and long. They can control the base code of the game, and they all start fighting with one another.

The plot gets really huge in scope, as they find that their simulated reality

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just-parrot-thoughts · 1 year ago

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the most interesting thing happened to me just now.

the incident that sparked my new spiritual/psychological discoveries was and accidental payment of a non-existent package. i was trying to see if a promo code worked and i was pressing buttons too quickly, which resulted in me paying about 3€ for the shipment of a package that did not exist. not a lot of money. very tiny issue, yes, i know. but to my anxious, autistic, obsessive-compulsive brain these tiny things are very much big deals and can make or break my entire week if i'm not careful.

so what happened was obviously immediately as i realized i had accidentally paid the price for the package i felt the usual 'oh no what did i just do' panic but at the same time i burst out laughing. it was so utterly ridiculous that i immediately switched to being entertained by this mistake and not bothered by it. which is a completely normal response and if i had the brain of a neurotypical person it probably would have been the end of the story. but alas, i don't so it wasn't.

you know the feeling when you're so used to being stressed out by any minor inconvenience that when something happens and you don't freak out you start stressing about why you don't freak out? something similar happened to me in those few minutes while i sent a few messages to my friend, telling her what i had just done. even though i felt calm, i sensed the anxiety starting to creep in, fearing that any minute now i could start freaking out about this tiny mistake.

so i did what i always do, what i do best when my mind starts panicking and going all over the place: i grab the reins called 'making sense of the world and myself using my intellect' and started analyzing the situation. i told myself it's honestly no big deal. i tried to calm my ocd-based anxiety about losing money, and things not going the 'perfect way'. i tried to find a use for that package so that it doesn't go to waste. it didn't work. as usual, with my rational mind i could understand all of these things that i was telling myself, but my blood kept racing, my chest kept tightening and my brain kept panicking.

but as i was sitting on the sofa, i suddenly thought about a different approach. what if, instead of rationalizing the problem, i just... sat with it? these feelings were clearly not going away when i tried to reason with them in the language i speak best; so what if i tried speaking their own language. i'm far from fluent in it, in fact i keep forgetting words and grammar, but for the first time in a long time i felt confident that i could make myself understood.

so i sat cross-legged, hands on my knees, closed my eyes and just... was. a song that'd been stuck in my head all day was the quite loud background noise to my experience. rational thoughts kept popping up in my mind and i gently pushed them aside to make space for.... what? this was new. i felt my chest tightening, i heard the veins behind my ears pumping the blood way too loudly. and i just let it. accepted that this is how i feel. started breathing slower, deeper, trying not to tell myself that it's okay to calm down, but to... feel it instead? almost as if i were to convey the emotional component of this soothing message without saying any words. like, when you look at someone with meaningful eyes and hug them. i looked at my feelings the same way and tried to hug them, without saying or thinking anything.

it actually worked. for the most part, at least. i felt some relief almost immediately, but some part of the anxiety still lingered on. it still does, more than an hour later, and i think i've realized why, now that i've allowed myself to get rational and analytical about the issue once again.

whenever some minor thing happens to me that generates similar reactions, i almost fear forgetting about it, because then if i remember it later, suddenly all the anxiety comes rushing back. so it's like i'm always on guard by keeping the issue on my mind, tucked away in a corner, so if i think about it again, it's not so overwhelming when all the related feelings are suddenly also felt, again.

so right now i'm trying another new thing: telling my body, my brain that it's okay to put this down. that i appreciate that it's trying to protect me the only way it knows how. but maybe, maybe just this once, we could try something new? we could see what happens if we don't hold onto this stress. if we let the grip loosen, and see it go away. i know it feels like an enemy that we can keep close so we can always keep an eye on is better than an enemy that's unknown and unpredictable but hey. what if the enemy never shows up after all?

#anxiety #anxious #autistic #neurodivergent #stressed #ramblings

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pwophet · 2 years ago

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Surely, dear Doppio moving away was only a trick of the eye. After all, there was no reason (none at all, none at all... they were harmless! pure of heart, pure of mind, and pure of soul!) for them to be moving so... blatantly away! Ji Soo meant nothing by it (aren't friends supposed to be close? that's why they're friends and not acquaintances!) and, by association, meant no such harm by it... so, uh...

Why, exactly, were they running away leaving?

Change in other's disposition was, of course, taken into account. One second, Doppio seemed more than keen on gossiping -- ahh... the sign of true friendship! -- with them and then, the next? Suddenly-- unexpectedly, they appeared to be halfway on their way to becoming one with the concrete!

"Oop."

One sound (a gasp. of surprise? no. no, no no... nooo! they're just gasping.) was all it took for Ji Soo to trigger reinvigorate. In the midst of their forwards ? descent ???, there's an immediate stretching out of arm behind them. Fingers were quick, latching and wrapping their entirety around a nearby lamppost standing a mere two or so feet away. It's enough of a give to enable them to "encroach" onto Doppio's space one last time only for them to yank away (almost like a cartoon, with a cane hooking around their waist and ripping them back into the ether.) without another sound.

"GAHAHAHAHA!!"

... Ah, well, save for their loud laughter.

Ji Soo spins around the pole (its light flickers. morse code? morse? morse who?) for one, full rotation before coming to screeching stop. It's audible, too. Of course it was audible.

Pausing in a "stand" that's more or less supported only by their grip, they peered down at Doppio with narrowed eyes. They (doppio? who? ji soo? who?) didn't mean any harm... but, sometimes, misunderstandings happen. No big deal! Ji Soo was super understanding like that-- they've already forgotten what caused this whole (aaahh... ah, ahh... AAAAAAH!!) thing in the first place!

That's just how good of a friend they truly were. Doppio would (obviously... OBVIOUSLY!) appreciate it.

They just knew they would.

For the next few moments, the redhead would remain still and virtually silent. Their grip upon their saving grace (thank you, mister lamp.) retained a vicelike quality, tight enough that a thin vein bulged up from beneath their skin. It's whatever. ... It's all whatever.

"..."

Their head tilts, and their hair goes everywhere. Conveniently, they also remember (pay no mind that it's one eye at a time.) to blink.

"Apology accepted!!"

❝ uh - y- yeah, they are. ❞ is all doppio manages to stutter out. not that they had little to say, of course. quite happily able to ramble on all evening about petty annoyances & vehicles almost running them over on a near daily basis. it's the sudden invasion of their personal bubble which cuts short whatever else they were going to say. body stiffening, inching away from the unprompted physical contact which made doppio increasingly uncomfortable.

❝ sorry, i- i don't really like being touched. ❞ their awkward smile fades in the wake of a slightly pained frown, a hand lifting to rub at their head. ruffling loose strands of pink hair. hazel eyes though narrowed & tinged with the annoyance of another dawning headache, not once blink away from the other. ( why are you apologizing ). ❝ if you couldn't do that, that'd be great.. ❞

#epitapf #✨ IC： LET'S BE FRIENDS！#ji soo @ diavolo: do it cowawd!!! :D :D :D #doppio sweetie i am so fucking sorry < / 3

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littlestpersimmon · 2 years ago

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Posting this again! But expounded upon.

Writing a short story about a wonderfully boring disabled transmasc aged 42 who likes to appear feminine (but he is a man at heart!) a jaded but once renowned magician in a world where magical spells are copyrighted and taxed on + his whirlwind romance with a young, hotshot, asshole sorcerer!

In my notes I just called him "professor" and the younger guy "hotshot TA". I don't have any names for them yet. The professor is beautifully tanned and coded south/southeast asian and persian and has long, salt and pepper hair in very loose and soft ringlets tied back carelessly, meaning many smaller ringlets escape his hairtie.. he has cute crows feet and laugh lines and he dresses of course like A Wizard.

ANYWAY.

You guys know how like.. when people look at inventions in the past and scoff and be like "I could have thought of that.".

That's how people in the world view the professor. His written spells are weak, meek, and considered "homely, run of the mill, kitchen witch pennyspells" that anyone could've come up with; In the past, people marveled at the simple ingenuity of his spells. Now it's sneered at for being very basic, though the professor always knows how to smile and invite other people to improve upon his magic. Seemingly, never offended and always unaffected.

In my story, the professor pretty much invented sympathetic magic- he invented it to help other disabled folk make spells and magical tools that can make life easier...... like creating magically charged prosthesis, self operating earpieces and stuff like that. Buuut Because the professor is naive and Believes In The Goodness Of The World, he does not copyright any of his spells. Now, Other witches took that sympathetic magic and started using the base formula and immediately capitalized on it, mass producing low-quality tools from it.

Everyone started turning on the professor for inventing sympathetic magic, because "back then" magical tools had to be crafted painstakingly by hand, more potent and less breakable, and thinkpiece upon thinkpiece was written and scapegoating on the professor. Magicians all live in workshops, universities and ateliers, and the professor lives in one particular Special university that was an abandoned lighthouse that got towers and towers and towers built on it, to function as discussion rooms, meeting places and classrooms! A lot of the elder witches still understood the importance of the professor's work, so they let him stay in one of the towers. In these towers he holds classes under his big telescopes and orreries; though few come because his "kitchenwitch" magic is seen as emasculating and cringe lol.

In their world, their magic is drawn from many sources, but because Capitalism, some engineering witches have created fairy-veins and sun-discs and numerous receptors. These things "amplify" and "route" magic- without these amplifiers, magic would be near useless in their world. The professor uses a very old type of amplifier that draws energy from hearths (fire), and only one company maintains hearth magic, and he has to pay titanic fees and taxes for the receptor to continue to be in use- which is why he, an esteemed, 40 year old inventor.... highly respected (even though considered cringe) professor with SEVERAL awards, lives paycheck to paycheck.

Anyway he tends to mind his own business, satisfied he neither died as a hero nor lived long enough as a villain, but just someone seen as silly and overrated. Of course until hotshot TA comes along under the pretense of wanting to learn from The Professor, who is Pleasantly Surprised that such a renowned and fiery young mage wants to learn his crafting of simple, kitchenwitching.

The professor would be Devastated when he finds out that the university professors sent the hotshot TA to him to train under him and learn the ropes of the university life because they want to kick him out!!

"Twenty years of service and it didn't mean anything!!" So obviously a resentful rivalry between the professor and TA comes about, until one day, while trying to get the TA to light a candle, the professor finds by accident out that TA is unable to manipulate elements- which is the simplest form of magic one could learn. It's like. A disability in the thaumaturgy community. He'd be flummoxed at how the TA even GOT IN the university (which is sadly still ableist). It's like managing to get into juilliard without knowing how to play do-re-mi. It's like being very good at art but unable to draw a square. The professor laughs, but not because he thinks it's funny that TA was running a con, and is disabled just like him, but because, he's in so much disbelief. But then of course, an opportunity for the professor, who is the master at simple magic, arises. He will teach the TA how to "mask", if the TA could convince the board of magis that run the university to let the professor keep his job. Obviously this will only end in the soft-hearted professor, who has always fought tooth and nail for the rights of disabled magicians, to not really expect the TA to fight for him to be able to keep his job, BUT WORTH A SHOT ANYWAY. And yeah they will fall in love eventually and kiss and all that. BUT FIRST. Gay turmoil !

#long post

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happybird16 · 2 years ago

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A short little soft and sweet drabble on something that happened to me a couple years ago! I couldn’t come up with a name for it.

Levi/ Gn reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Alcohol mention, that’s it.

Note: I wrote most of this on my lunch break today lol.

On your first date, Levi didn’t drink.

It’s not something you’d really noticed at the time. Head buzzing, tongue thick with the taste of delicious red wine, you’d been far too enraptured by the man sitting across from you.

The tight, button up shirt had taken no prisoners. His sleeves rolled up to reveal firm lines of muscle and blue spider webs of veins. Conversation flowing easily, his eyes, dark and enchanting, had seemed to pull you in. You could think of nothing else.

Months later, countless restaurants visited in the passing weeks, you finally take notice.

For your as-often-as-possible dinner -and sometimes even lunch or breakfast- dates, you’ve settled into a routine of picking a place at random. As long as the reviews seem decent and the cleanliness seems up to code -Levi’s insistence, he hates food trucks with a passion- you try whatever place you can find from a random Google search.

It’s a small little pub today, out of the way and barely populated. It’s cute, decorated with hanging bare light bulbs and little wooden knick knacks. In fact, everything is made from dark wood, from the walls to the table and chairs. You like the nice, homey old fashioned feel of it, especially compared to the bland spartan setting most expensive restaurants have.

Sitting across from you, Levi immediately hands over the tiny ‘today’s drink specials’ menu that the waitress had left on the table. Staring down at it, the realization suddenly strikes you: Levi never drinks. Sticking to tea or water, he never so much as glances at the alcoholic section of any menu in all of the places you’ve visited.

You suddenly feel unsettled, staring down at the stiff off-white page in your hands. The laminated paper suddenly seems impossibly heavy.

Your mind whirls with possibilities.

Maybe he’s just a lightweight. It wouldn’t be too unexpected given his smaller stature, the booze quickly filling his veins and making him loose-lipped and lackadaisical. He could also be an embarrassing drunk, a prospect that excites you.

Or it could be for religious reasons, though he’s never spoken about such things. Or maybe it’s even family related, the result of a bad experience with an addicted family member. The thought makes you feel bad for casually drinking in his presence.

It’s not too big of a deal, if you need to stop for him. It’s not like you drink too often anyways. Normally just a glass of wine here and there to unwind, perhaps even an occasional cocktail to keep the excitement flowing through your veins during a girl’s night.

Though, it could even be as simple as Levi not liking the taste. You certainly remember disliking the acrid burn of booze when you’d first started drinking, the overwhelming taste making you cough and wheeze. A finicky man, it’s certainly a likely possibility.

Still, it feels odd to be drinking alone. Now that you’ve noticed, it weighs on you like an itch you just can’t scratch. The waitress will be back soon, but now choosing a drink from the page seems impossible.

Gaze straying to the man across the table, you can’t help the breath that catches in your throat. Now matter how many times you see him, the sight of your boyfriend always leaves you stunned.

Winter having recently arrived in a snowy flurry, Levi is dressed in a thick wool sweater. The fabric is tight, carefully fitted to curve around his smaller frame. You should feel at a loss, with less of his perfect alabaster skin bared for your gaze, but instead you drink in the sight eagerly. He looks so warm and cozy, comfortable in the plush fabric.

“Levi,” you start, voice cautious and steady. Headless to your own intention, you fiddle nervously with the menu in your grip.

“Hmm?” Levi grunts, glaring down at his own menu. Always a picky eater, it consistently takes him absolutely forever to decide on an entree, even if he always looks up the place beforehand.

“Do…,” you hesitate, unsure of how to word the question. “Is there a reason you don’t drink?”

Levi’s sterling eyes stray up to meet yours, wide in shock. “Ah,” he says, ears burning with a tinge of red. “You -er- noticed that.”

“Is it a family reason? Should I not be drinking in front of you?” You vaguely remember him mentioning a ‘shit-bag’ -his words- uncle, but you aren’t sure if alcohol was ever an issue with him.

“No no,” Levi assures with a wave of his hand. “Nothing like that.”

Levi’s words have done little to calm the lingering worry in your heart. “Why then? Is it me? Are you not comfortable…”

“No!” The word comes quickly, a bit too loud for the quiet ambiance of the establishment. Quiter, Levi continues, “I’m more comfortable around you than I’ve ever been with anyone.”

The raging anxiety eating at your insides finally calms, like a roaring thunderstorm fading into the distance. “Why then?”

The blush coloring the tips of Levi’s ears spreads, pink dusting across his cheeks. “It’s…embarrassing.” The words are surprisingly hushed, his silver eyes quickly darting away before meeting yours again.

“More embarrassing than that time you kissed Erwin?” It’s Levi’s most humiliating moment -according to him- one you dragged out of him late one night when he was particularly drowsy.

Levi cringes, face twisting up at the memory. “I shouldn’t have told you about that.”

“I’ll never let it go,” you chime in a sing-songy voice.

Levi grunts in response, pale skin darkening further. You have no doubt it’s spread to paint his neck and chest with splotches of pink. “You're going to laugh.”

“Really? Now I’m intrigued!” You can’t help but lean forward, enjoying the light pink dusting his face.

“It’ll be easier to show you,” Levi states with a heavy sigh, waving a hand to flag down the waitress.

Tucked up along the back wall of the little pub, it’s amazing how quickly she spots the signal, coming over almost immediately. “Hi again! Are you guys ready to order drinks?”

“Yeah. What did you want, sweetheart? The wine?” Levi asks, using the term of endearment he knows always makes your heart race.

“Oh!” You quickly glance down at the drinks menu again, slightly bent from your nervous fingers. “I’ll have the raspberry liquor hot chocolate.”

Levi hums at your choice, no doubt holding back a snarky comment about your chocolate addiction. “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks.”

The waitress takes her time to write down your orders on her notepad. With a hum, her gaze sweeps Levi before she asks, “Can I see your ID, sir?”

Never breaking eye contact with you, Levi quickly reaches into his back pocket to procure his wallet. Flipping the leather open with a smooth flick of his wrist and pulling the plastic from its sleeve, he hands it to her. “Here.”

The waitress takes it, glancing back and forth between the card and your boyfriend several times with a click of her tongue. She bends it, the plastic creaking audibly in protest, as she accesses the ID.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone get ID’d so hard before. Levi gives you an exaggerated grimace, eyebrows tilting up as if to say ‘see’.

“Uh…I’ll be back real quick sir,” stutters the waitress, before she quickly shuffles towards the back of the establishment.

“She left with it!” you note, struggling to keep your voice low in your surprise.

“That happens sometimes,” Levi explains, unperturbed by her quick exit. “She’s probably going to show it to her supervisor. They’ll both be back in a moment.”

“You get ID’d a lot?” you question. “I’ve never seen anything this intense before.”

“Every goddamn time,” Levi spits with a roll of his eyes. “I’m in my fucking 30’s and I’ve never not been ID’d. They always think it’s fake! It’s embarrassing.”

Struggling to keep to a quiet chuckle, you laugh, “That’s why you never drink?”

Levi nods his head before speaking, “It's always a whole scene. I feel like an out of place teenager the entire time.”

You can only imagine how anxiety inducing it must feel, his skin prickling hot with nerves and anger. Levi certainly does look youthful, in more than just his stature. Despite the fact that he’s often scowling, his face is smooth and free from any lines of age or worry. Still, you wouldn’t dare think him underage. “That’s hilarious! It happens every time?”

“Mhmm,” Levi confirms with a hum. “Maybe it’ll stop once I start growing grey hairs.” With the words, Levi gestures to his inky locks, shining even in the low light of the pub.

“If you ever do! Your mom certainly hasn’t. You could just be doomed forever.” Only having met her a handful of times, even in her 60’s Kuchel -who wants you to call her Mom but you struggle with it- seems youthful and vibrant. “Oooh, I bet they still size-check you at amusement parks!”

“Hey-” Levi chides, lips turning up in a barely-there smile. Despite the stiffness in his jaw, there’s very telling crinkles around his eyes that betray the fact that he’s enjoying your banter.

Unheeded, you continue, “This isn’t nearly as bad as discovering you’re bi by clacking teeth with your best friend.”

“Fucking-“ Throwing his head back, Levi sighs over dramatically. “Do me a favor and never remind Erwin of that.”

“Oh I definitely will.” Your words bring about a full, beautiful, fond smile. Now that his reason for not partaking is out in the air, Levi seems more relaxed, his shoulders loose and his face open. It’s a rare sight, especially in public.

Heart hammering in your chest at the sight, you love him, you can’t help but think. It’s not a new revelation, but certainly not something you’ve ever said out loud. Suddenly you feel like you're bursting at the seams to let the words loose. This isn’t the place though, not in some cliche little restaurant and certainly not in public. You’ll tell him later, when there’s nothing between you but bed sheets.

Eyes full of scorching warmth, one of Levi’s hands reaches across the table to clasp yours, the thumb gliding smoothly across your knuckles. “Thank you, for this. For taking it all in stride. I know I can be…tedious at times. Part of me was afraid that the sheer awkwardness would ruin things.”

You love him. You love him. You love him.

The words burn hot on the tip of your tongue, desperate to leak out, so instead you say, “Levi Ackerman? Afraid? As if!”

You can see why he’d been so tentative in the first place. Had this been the first date, or even the second, and you’d been less familiar with one another, the awkward silence while waiting for his ID to be returned would have been excruciating. It’s already been over ten minutes since the waitress left and still there’s no sign of her return.

Part of you wonders if it’s ever ruined things before, you know his height has been an issue with previous dates. Given his hesitation, you're willing to bet it has. “Were you just gonna not drink forever then? Was that the plan?”

“Maybe…,” Levi starts, lips pursed in almost a pout. “I’m sure there would have been some sort of holiday gathering eventually where it wouldn’t have mattered.”

You smile, struggling to picture him sipping cheap beer at your regular family barbecues. “So you’ll be ordering with me from now on?”

“If you're okay with dealing with the whole rigamarole, sure.” Levi shrugs, eyes dark and fond as they bore into your own.

“I bet you're a lightweight,” you tease, squeezing his hand in your own.

“As if,” Levi scoffs. “Though admittedly it’s been awhile-“

“Oh, here they come. You were right, she brought the manager,” you interrupt, spotting a sharply dressed older woman following behind the waitress. As they approach, you spot the white plastic of Levi’s ID clasped between two of her fingers.

“Would you mind if I cause a bit of a scene?” Levi asks. “Sometimes if I bitch the restaurant will end up comping my meal.”

“That sounds like fun!” This whole thing certainly was a bit much. You understand carding is necessary but jeez. To another couple, this could have been a real disastrous stall to an otherwise lovely evening out. “I’ll help!”

#levi ackerman x reader #levi/reader #levi ackerman fluff #sfw #tw; alcohol #fluff #levi ackerman #mydrabbles #gender neutral reader #attack on titan fluff #levi fanfiction #fanfics

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chemnections · 10 months ago

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quick and dirty immediate things that stand outs to me:

the sequel is the same - reminds me how mcr seemed to be reliving the pre breakup descent into conflict

autumn- they wrote it in october? our father art is dead - got some catholic imagery there

knife in the centre of my chest - a true friend stabs you in the front

pools bacteria- getting down the germs comes to mind lol

bleeding out from underneath our masks - got the repeating mask theme

light up - part of the light/dark theme? like not letting the light fade out?

is that the furthest we go? - this one was written in frank’s handwriting when they posted some of the lyrics. a question about the end of the band?

under desert moon: another running theme which the dunes have played with before with benedryl subreddit and old wounds

the distance the dosage - new jeresy vs cali, meds for mental health

i whisper kill me in your ear - this to me reads as a few things, like the ‘kill’ theme in the early days frank wrote on shirts and stuff that may have came from that collage essay, the general murder theme in mcr’s work or the ‘kill me again’ in grey veins - which kinda alludes to frank’s accident being the catalyst for reunion or the frank coded characters being killed in gerard’s work

asphyxia - nother running theme, strangulation

i gave you everything i had - frank truly gave everything to mcr and i can’t say it’s acknowledged (and to gerard)

october when the leaves are dead - well again they did write the song then

wrap your callous hands around my neck - repeating theme, that whole thing of grabbing your best friend by the neck, i find this one interesting because i would believe these would be the hands of a guitar player, unsure of perspective

how dare you deny. how dare you not tell the truth. how dare you dismiss me.

the last silent alarm - a warning?

official lyrics

#yes i see this song relating to mcr #how dare you #what do you see?#lyrics

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makrokosmuss-blog · 3 years ago

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Viscer Obi Wan Kenobi x Sith! Reader

Rating: M, nothing too crazy...yet Reader is female and given a Sith name. Description: In the midst of battle Ahsoka, Anakin and Obi Wan feel something disrupting the force - when Obi Wan confronts the menace, he discovers more than he had bargained for. A certain Sith is looking for a way to the light, and who could be better suited than the handsome Sith-slayer himself. Nothing left but to hope that nobody gets cut in half... A/N: Wow i haven't written for ages. I lately saw a post complaining that in all fiction the reader is either a Jedi or a Senator...which I love, actually. But hey, I wanted to spice things up. I hope you guys like it. I'll be writing some more Kenobixreader lately - so if you like what you read, please stay or let me know. X's and O's! If you'd like more let me know also, suggestions are always welcome!

Anakin's heart raced. It fiercely beat against his chest as darkness and anger threatened to engulf him. He fought a dozen of droids already, sweat dripping from his brow, and after that, there were only more to come. "I CAN'T GET TO HER. GET TO HER. PLEASE. ", He yelled into his com, voice trembling. Obi-Wan could sense the distress in his former Padawans words. He could sense it through the force. Anakin worried him. Anakin's Temper – to be exact. His former Padawan had always tended to take the 'control your emotions' aspect of the code rather lightly, now, he didn't seem to control them at all. Not that Obi Wan's mind wasn't clouded enough already. There was Ahsoka's force signature, screaming, bright, scarred, still struggling. Now Anakin's, dark, angry and frustrated and then...then something completely else.

As he rushed through the Battlefield, saber in hand, slashing through droids like branches in a forest blocking his way, Obi-Wan felt his own heart beating against his chest. There wasn't supposed to be a Sith. Not here. Not now. And when Ahsoka had called in, saying she was out of breath, saying she saw something in the fog, something shining red, something dark and menacing, Both his and Anakin's heart had stopped for a second. It was thick, it was heavy and dark, dark indeed. It filled the air like Smoke and clouds had started forming, blocking out the sun and for a moment, what felt like all the Light in the Galaxy. Obi-wan, still sprinting to get to Ahsoka's position, felt his thoughts trailing back to the only moment in time where he had felt such darkness before. Darkness that had swallowed his master whole, and he felt a sting deep inside of him. Another droid fell, beheaded for standing in the Masters way, as he had tried to shoot. He clenched his fist tighter around his saber, he could feel the Adrenalin pumping through his veins and with it, just a hint of fear that he had suppressed for years and years that had suddenly appeared from deep deep within him. As he reached the top of the small incline he had sprinted up, he took a moment to stand tall. Robes flowing majestically behind him in the wind as lightning flashed through the dark clouds, the immediate thunder shaking the ground and making the air dense and impossibly thick. He could see it. In the distance. Green and Red swirling in the fog, a red so deep and dark it seemed like fresh blood dripping down onto dirty ground. Even from that distance it was clear to see which side dominated and Kenobi set out for another sprint, praying he would not be too late. Ahsoka tried her best, blocking every strike and every blow she could. She had burns on her thigh, her side and her upper arm. Always enough to hurt her, never enough to seriously get her into danger. The woman in front of her hadn't even cared to take her coat off, and Ahsoka could see the silky fabric dancing in the wind as the Sith circled her, slowly, watching the Padawan in front of her with the eyes of a hawk. The Sith could feel her will, strong and determined, her force soft and bright and her senses, clouded by pain and fear. Ahsoka did not dare going for an offensive stand, just waiting for her opponents attacks, trying to concentrate on staying alive only. She had pretty soon noticed that there was no sense in taking her on. Her mental defenses had been shattered the second she had seen the malevolent dark figure in the distance. The young girl panted, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest as she bravely stood her ground, both hands pressed around her saber, holding on for dear life. The Sith kept circling her, elegantly swaying her saber around in her hand, flexing her wrists. If Ahsoka could look into her opponents mind, she'd knew the reassuring truth. That the Sith did not plan on killing her. Never had. She had decided against it the second She saw the young girl standing near her. She was but a child, a brave one at that. Great potential. She swung again, intentionally missing her by an inch, the young Jedi still dodged, rolling onto her side, kneeling shortly - which was the moment the Sith decided that playtime was over. Obi-Wan grimaced as he saw the red saber pressed against Ahsokas throat. She knelt in font of the Sith that she had tried so desperately to protect herself from, squirming, tears in her eyes. "No", he whispered, before he noticed he had even opened his mouth. It was a dry and pained attempt to voice out his emotions. Anakin could feel it through the force, and on the other side of the field he stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide, his breath halting. And with that, in that moment, Obi-Wan watched as he Bloodied red disappeared. Leaving no color on the field in front of him, except that endless darkness. The clouds split, a singly ray of light falling onto the scene. The dark shadow in the distance was illuminated, looking up into

the sunshine, then back down at the Padawan in front of her. Obi-Wan watched in disbelief as a black gloved hand was placed on Ahsoka's cheek. The Togrutan girl glared into her eyes with despair and shock as she felt her warm hand on her cheek. "Sleep.", She whispered, her voice dark and soft as velvet. Ahsoka felt all her strength being pulled from her, her force engulfing her in the softest, blackest way, like a blanket being pulled over her. She fought so very hard, little sharp teeth gritted, hissing, trying so desperately to keep the Sith out of her head. “What do You want with me?”, she pleaded, angry, so very angry. A small smile played on the woman's full lips. The Girl reminded her so very much of herself, “I want You alive, little Jedi.”, She chuckled, pushing harder. One last push that sealed the deal. The Sith watched, as the young Jedi lost the mental fight, blinking, weakening, as consciousness slipped from her. "I'd advise You to step away." The voice came from behind Her. She blinked, softly, closing her eyes. Something like a warm tingle rushed through her body, as she heard that strangely familiar voice. Her hand still rested underneath the girls head as She had gently guided her down onto the stony dark ground. She heard the saber of the Jedi behind her being ignited as She turned around, pulling her hood of her head. Obi Wan felt his heart jump in his chest. Sith were supposed to be corrupted, cruel and disgusting. He remembered Darth Maul well. That Devilish face had burned itself so deep into his memory that he could never forget the tremor the dark side had caused in him. But She was very different from that. Long hair, that swayed along with her black silk coat in the wind, her eyes had the most beautiful yellow shine that he had ever seen and her lips, full and soft opened slightly, as she looked him over the same way he did her. She nodded her head, slowly and understanding. "Then I will follow your advice, Jedi.", She spoke. Her voice felt so known. Its ring, it's tone, it's soft accent. As if he had heard it a thousand times in his dreams, whispering to him from the dark of the night. He lowered his still ignited saber, leaving his offensive stand, as he saw her stepping away from Ahsoka. The two of them circled each other, not leaving each others eyes a single time. "OBI WAN, Come in, are you there? Is she fine? I can't feel her in the-" "She is fine Anakin.", Obi wan answered into his com, eyes still not leaving the Sith's, even as he checked the girls pulse. The girl lay on the ground, seemingly sleeping save and sound, looking completely unbothered.

The panic in Anakins voice had not touched him in the slightest. Ahsoka was indeed alive. He saw it and now he had felt it too. But why? He watched her closely. “I must assure You, I did not hurt her. I tried to minimize the damage....she was fighting hard though, I must say.”, She spoke with a slight sound of cheer and pride. Obi wan had to force the look on his face away, as he noticed how he'd reacted to the softness of her voice. She had surprised him once again. He had thought that at least her behavior and tone would be as menacing as her force signature, yet until now he had found no further deviance for any evil in her. "Noble of You. Even. To leave her alive. What might have caused this in a Sith?", he asked her, standing up straight once again to confront her. A soft smile crossed her lips as She pursed them, leaning her head playfully to one side. She enjoyed the sound of his voice, his thick Coruscant accent, his sly behavior. Had She heard it before? It sounded so very known... Ignoring his question, still relaxed, She crossed her arms in front of her chest, asking: "You are Obi-Wan Kenobi? Isn't that right?" The man in front of her spun his saber around in his wrist. "I do not know how that would matter to You." "It would. Greatly.", She explained, instead of circling now stepping closer to the man. He immediately assumed a stance again, lifting his saber that shone in a blue as bright and beautiful as his eyes. To his shock, She reached a hand out to him, shushing him, leading that hand back to her face to press her finger against her full lips. "We don't have to do this. No need to fight. I need something.", She tried to reason with him but he did not leave his stance and She could feel through the force how protective he stood between her and the girl. "You are a Sith. I think there is a need, my Lady.", he spoke through gritted teeth, still in a charming matter though. “As a Sith”, She spoke calmly, her hand on her heart, “I am hardly your Lady, but thank you still. Manners are a rare thing in this day and age. What would be your title then? Master?” He narrowed his eyes, a sly smile on his lips. “Well it would be. Not to you however.”, he answered, his voice full of confidence, but the small falter in his courage did not escape her. “Not my Master and not your Lady...No titles then.”, She spoke, nearly disappointed. The woman stood tall, looking around her. She was much smaller than him still, but it was her presence, her behavior, that made her seem so very tall. The Sith seemed nearly unbothered by the battlefield, as if she felt at home right were she were standing. Yet, he sensed her respect. Could make it out clearly in the force. She of course knew who he was, and with that: that She would not be the first Sith he would slay. The reputation of 'The Jedi who'd slain Darth Maul' was one he usually didn't like. Now however, he was quite glad to bear it. She sighted, her eyes looking nearly pained as she shrugged her coat off, her gloved hand reaching for the saber that was held on a strand on her thigh. "I can feel your heart racing, Obi-Wan Kenobi. We do not have to do this.", She warned him. The Respect. The feeling at home. The sadness. The urgency...something strange was going on. Obi Wan felt like he could read her emotions like an open book. “There is...something in the force...do you feel it?”, she suddenly spoke, as if reading his thoughts on it. There was a deep frown on her face, as she still looked around, seemingly concentrating. “Maybe...if we reach out...”, she whispered, more to herself than him. He could feel it too, not just his obvious discomfort but the connection that had formed between them in record time. It had taken months for his connection with his old master to form, yet she walked into his life, suddenly engulfing his whole soul. Opening doors that where previously closed, some that had been for years. Memory's, ambitions, dreams. In a few seconds they seemed to fall from him, some he could not even remember himself. Running in the gardens at the temple as

a boy, Seeing Anakin for the first time, Seeing Maul for the first time, A dream with a voice in it. Holding Qui Gon in his arms, forbidden tears falling from his face. Watching his comrades die next to him on the field. It was not one sided though. He could see her memories flash in front of his eyes like an unwanted vision. Standing in front of a mirror, her soft hand gliding over her bloodied cheek as the dark side consumed her. Her on her knees in the rain, teeth gritted. Pain. So much pain, strong arms lifting her of the ground while She screamed. He shook his head. Blinking. Using Jedi mind tricks was one thing, opening up through the force to a complete stranger, an enemy, was something very different. His head pounded like someone had just stabbed through his eye, his throat was dry and his vision blurred. He felt sick to the stomach. "Would You stop that?", he hissed, looking back up at her, squinting his eyes, trying to focus on the battle. What he saw shocked him, the woman before him held her head with one hand, pained expression as she spoke: "I am not causing this. I'd rather stop it too." Concentrating on the force he heard her cries one more time as they faded away, the sound of the battle in the distance coming back to both of them. She nearly toppled over, a hand on her stomach now. She felt horrible, well not horrible. There was something warm about it, like she had met someone she had a real and strangely deep connection to. He took it a bit better, staring her down, already assuming position again. Seeing the Sith in a state of distress in front of him, gave him ideas. He could slay her right there and then, weakened and blurry sighted, yet that would be very unmannerly of him and in a strange nudge of his conscious, he decided against it. "Well...", Obi Wan's voice brought her back to reality, as She looked straight at him, he continued: "I am afraid I can't let you leave. So the best I can do for you is ask you to throw me your saber and surrender.", he pressed on. She looked at him in shock and confusion. Was he serious? Did he not feel it? How could he just ignore something like this? Or was it normal for Jedi? So many questions rushed through her still throbbing head as She watched him with an intense stare. It did not matter. For now, she had to make sure the two of them did not hurt each other. He saw her smile falling from her lips, as She turned serious and in that moment, he felt the air getting denser again. She closed her eyes. Concentrating. Feeling the dark inside of her, that had gained so much strength by eating away at her. It was overwhelmingly hungry and the second She set it free, it raged. With a flick of her hand he felt his saber being pulled by a force so strong, it drew a gasp from him. It was unbelievable. To feel the force like this, in a dark way that he had never before. He felt his grip tightening, his muscles tensing as he tried his best to hold on to his weapon that She tried to rip straight from him. He was strong, She had noticed that immediately as She felt him clinging on to his weapon. Concentrating harder, She centered herself, re positioned and held out her arm, her muscled tense as She pulled even stronger through the force to disarm him. The dark swirled through her and he swore he saw her amber eyes glisten red for a moment. Desperately trying to hold on he noticed his hands starting to get bruised and ripped open by the metal. Watching her in shock, he kept holding on, pulling back with his own force. It was unreal to him how strong She was in the dark. He felt it pulling not just his saber, but everything around him, like a dark hole swallowing everything that was near. He could feel his body getting pulled toward She and pushed further back, desperately looking for some kind of grip. Again, he concentrated on the force, trying his best to somehow stand a chance. He was a fighter. Always had been. His control on the force was masterful, but had never been his strongest suit. Something She seemingly had realized so very fast it scared

him. He concentrated, on the light, on the force, fighting back, holding on. It got washed away by her darkness like a sandcastle in the storm, taken by the waves of her dark menace, he felt his saber slipping through his now bloodied hands and as he looked up back to her. The second She held his saber in her hands, her gaze softened. The storm calming. The beast that was the dark creeping back down into the shadow behind her. Her eyes had changed, from that manacling, scary gaze during her use of the force, to a softer amber shade, as his weapon lay in her hands. She ignited it. He watched her staring at his blue saber in admiration. It was the tone of his eyes. Quite exactly so. His blood was smeared all over the shiny metal, but it was lovingly assembled, beautifully maintained and it shone delicately and yet strong. "Breathtakingly beautiful...", She whispered, before turning back to him, "You mean surrender like this?", She asked, pointing his own saber at him, as She slowly walked towards him. She could feel his warm blood on her hand now, as it dripped through her leading hand, the metal in it sticky and warm. Obi wan watched the woman intensely, out of breath, his heart racing. "Well, where are my manners. Now that we have time to talk, I", She elegantly walked towards him, confidence seeping off her like slick honey, "Am Darth Viscer. I will ask again, are you Obi-Wan Kenobi?" The stray hair that hung in his face was framing his handsome features perfectly, his blue eyes piercing her, his lips parted slightly as he tried to calm his breath. He fixed his posture, his bloodied hands gliding over his perfectly white robes, leaving red traces. The next time he fixed his gaze on the Sith, it was already to late to react. He had rushed her and as She stepped back had grabbed her saber, igniting it and forcing it down upon her. Nearly to late, She went down on one knee, blocking the attack with his saber in her hand. The red that shone in his eyes, mirrored in his pupils by her saber, made him look fierce and, as She had to admit, endlessly handsome. A small smile spread on her lips as She forced her way back up, fighting back in quick and hard strikes. He blocked them best as he could, surprised by the lightness of her weapon. It lay so very well in his hands, it felt nearly comfortable. Like She had crafted it specifically for his use only. She dodged his next strikes, turning her back to him, leaning over, feeling the hot burst of her weapon so very close behind her head. The Sith turned with a fierce rhythm, striking at him with her golden eyes glowing menacingly and a grin on her full lips. Without admitting it to himself even, Obi wan could feel his power slipping from him. He had been already wounded and exhausted from the battle before She even showed up, and her relentless pace did not help at all. She stroke with a ferocity and passion that was hard to counter and after only minutes of dancing with her, he felt himself blocking much more than actually attacking. Their sabers met, glistening sparks blazing from them as She pushed up against him, her eyes piercing his. "Kenobi. We need to talk. I'm serious.", She gritted her teeth. He noticed her beginning to struggle to hold her ground against him by strength alone. He was taller and physically stronger, so he pushed back, sending her tumbling back a few steps as he slashed out. He found his pace again. Knowing suddenly that he could beat her in combat. She was strong in the force, but it was clear to him now that he was the more skilled fighter. She fell backwards, her own saber, held by him, barely missing her eyes. "Enough!", She hissed, pushing herself back up, suddenly holding out her hand once again. It all happened way to fast and before Obi Wan could react, he felt her force pushing menacingly up against him. In mere seconds he fell to the ground, the force pressing him unto his back, holding him in position. The Sith breathed heavily, glancing angrily at him. "Haven't I told you to please stay put and listen to me?", she

hissed under her breath. She meant to pin him, down further by holding the saber to his chest, but he quickly gathered his strengt and countered, saber against saber once more. This time it was harder to withstand her, noticing how the shine of his weapon enlightened her eyes in the deepest ocean blue. She pushed down against him, the sabers uncomfortably close to his face now. Obi Wan watched her closely as the anger fell from her features, eyes softening in a nearly sad gaze. She had to do something. Say something. And in this position he'd might just listen to her. "Please listen to me...You are my only hope, Obi-Wan Kenobi.", She near whispered through gritted teeth, her voice passionate. He felt his mind gliding back to his dreams. He did hear her voice before. Speaking that exact same sentence. Between pleading moans and soft cries. "What?", was all he could bring out before She quickly stepped back, leaving him, laying on the ground like that. She backed away, saber still brimming, but lowered as She gave him space. He rose up, watching the woman intently, mouth slightly open. She could have killed him, she was so very close. She couldn't be serious, a Sith leaving not just a Padawan but him alive, pleading for help? Staring at him, She sighted deeply, pacing around like a wild but elegant animal. Noticing She wasn't about to attack him, he slowly rose to his feet, shaking off the dirt on his robes. " MASTER !" The two of them turned their heads to look over the field, seeing Anakin standing on the dune in the distance. He could see the sabers from that vantage point, suddenly grabbing the Blaster from the Clone next to him, aiming. "Anakin.", Obi Wan whispered, feeling conflicted about the situation as a whole. As the blaster suddenly hit his side, the handsome man in front of her grabbed his side, sinking down on one knee. The blast had hit him good and for a second Viscer smelled burned meat and more peculiar: felt his pain in her own side. Softly touching her ribs, She noticed She had been completely spared, not a drop of blood on her robes. It was her mind, her connection alone that cause her pain. She watched the man in front of her perplexed, then back at the back-up Jedi on the hill, who had just shot his partner. "He thinks I'm... He thinks you are me .", She suddenly realized, looking at the blue saber in her hand. From a distance in that fog, he surely couldn't have noticed that the two of them had switched their weapons during the fight. "Apparently.", Obi Wan huffed, his eyes still shocked, his hand clutched around his bloodied ribs, "Brilliant Anakin." The Sith frowned, turning to her side and walking closer to the kneeling man. "Will You be fine?", She asked, standing tall above him, looking down at the man in front of her, that still held on tight to her saber. "Why, yes?", he asked, looking up, pained expression. She could feel the pain but also annoyance in his voice and mind and smiled softly to herself, before blocking another blaster shot mid air. Obi Wan watched her, impressed and confused. That was the third time She saved or spared his life. "Your rather bad Assistant is catching up to us...i will get going.", She stated, her heart heavy, a small sigh in her voice. He watched the woman, teeth still gritted. "So what is your plan? What is all this? Your not going to harm me?" For a split second, he saw the darkness falling from around her, leaving space for something else. She bowed down to him, her full lips once again smiling, her eyes reassuring. "Of Course i Won't harm you. I will find You.", She whispered. He could feel the cool leather of her glove on his chin. Obi Wan wasn't quite sure if that was better or worse. “Find me? Sith, I don't know if you want to find me.”, he chuckled darkly, still pained and confused. “Oh I do, Kenobi.”, She frowned, sadness filling her eyes once more, “And when I do, I need you to believe me. You owe me, after all.” “Believe You? What are you...”, he spoke, but soon halted, as he noticed She had not moved an

inch. Kneeling beside him, a hand on his back to support his stance, her other hand now running down to rest on his bloodied side. He hissed in pain and a small “Shhh, all good” of her suddenly calmed him immensely. He felt her now bloodied hand getting hold of his, pressing it against him. “Hold tight. Press up against the wound. Try to slow your breathing, Obi Wan. We don't want you to suffer from too much blood loss - Do we now?”, She whispered, her lips so very close to his ears. It sent unwanted shivers down his neck. How softly She spoke to him, how carefully She handled him. It felt all to wrong and too good to be right. “Stay Alive. I will see you soon.”, She assured him. He turned his head to look at her, deep frown on his face, shaking his head. She also frowned softly, yet her eyes seemed way less confused and he even seemed to find some hope in them. “What even are You doing? Helping me? I don't understand..:”, he spoke, a bit of anger filling his voice, but mostly confusion. His gaze softened as he looked into her eyes. “All in it's time.”, She answered. So very soft again. As soft as the small kiss, that She left on the side of his face. He froze, her lips cold against his temple. As swiftly as the Sith had appeared, she turned on her heels, rushing out into the fog. Obi Wan breathed deeply, the stinging sensation in his rips melting into one with the rest of his burns and the pain in his hands. For a second there, they had been forgotten. A fact he hated himself for, but should think about for nights to come. He looked at the ground, trying to center himself in the force. She had handled him so very strangely. Last time facing a Sith , he did have his master at his side, but that had been a very, very different experience altogether. His eyes fell on the weapon in his hands. He still held her blood red saber. And She still carried his. He lifted his head, watching after her. He could still make out the black of her robes that hugged her body tightly. He could still feel the connection between them, and the trace of her lips on his skin. You are my only hope It rang again. Deep inside of him. As if the force itself had whispered it softly to him.

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