#but like how about a skin for her this season since chess pieces are pretty much the thematic

[shegetsburned]

❝ Come you masters of war / you that build the big guns / you that build the death planes / you that build all the bombs / I just want you to know / I can see through you masks. ❞

[x] - by @marivenah/@marissources

[starblazerm31]

Get To Know Imalia

Answers from the Get to Know My Character list by @forsakenoathkeeper concerning my Arcana/Slayers OC Imalia Gabriev.  Things to know:

Imalia is NOT the apprentice from the Arcana storyline.  That is Azalea.

Imalia was Azalea’s original Master and mentor in the ways of magic.

Imalia has known Asra since he was 11.

Below the cut, since is really long! 18+, please!

01. What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded?

Imalia doesn't have a meaning that I'm aware of, and actually, my boyfriend came up with it.  Imalia used to be named Lina because she is in a Slayers crossover fic.  She's the descendant of Lina Inverse, and she was originally named after that character.  My boyfriend thought she should have a more unique name, so he came up with Imalia.  "Mal" for short.

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness?

Imalia is insecure about what others would think if they knew she carried a nightmare goddess inside her.  Good luck trying to exploit it...Lon is good at turning situations to the absolute worst.  Asra and Azalea took it pretty well, so she seems to have nothing to worry about.  At the moment.

03. What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves?

Imalia loves her muscular arms.  Her way of using magic utilizes physical strength as well as willpower, so she's pretty built.  She loves flexing her biceps and watching others go wide-eyed.

04. What are their favorite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical)

Imalia adores Asra's curiosity.  He's like her, always looking for answers to impossible questions. (she would like to think that she had something to do with this trait of his, but she knows better).  As for physical, she loves that divot where Asra's neck meets his collarbone.  She kisses that spot hundreds of times each day.

05. Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type?

Imalia is extremely sexually confident.  She knows what she likes, and she knows how to make him cum.  The only question is exactly how out of breath does she want to leave him.

06. Do they have any hobbies that their lover finds unusual, odd, or otherwise annoying?

Asra isn't too keen on how Imalia likes to go raid bandit camps and rob them blind.  He finds it a bit rude.

07. Is there a catchphrase or sound that they tend to make a lot (likely without being aware of it)?

"Fuck this fucking fuckery."

08. What is, perhaps, their biggest flaw? Are they aware of this or oblivious to it?

Her biggest flaw is also her greatest strength.  Her overconfidence.  With her magic, she has to hold to "I think therefore I am."  If she thinks she can do it, she actually can do it.  But sometimes she can't.  And those are frightening times for her.  She is aware yet oblivious.  It's just who she is.  

09. Do they have a favorite season? What about a favorite holiday?

For the season, Imalia loves summer.  She loves the heat and the rain.  As for holiday...her favorite is any one where she can get drunk.

10. Is your character more feminine or masculine?

Masculine.  Her appearance is quite feminine, but her persona might as well be a boisterous man.  She treats Asra like a man would treat a woman, and he doesn't complain at all.  She makes him feel precious and wanted, protected and loved.  Respected and revered.  And he's completely comfortable letting her top him most of the time. ^_~

11. What is something that would make your character fly into a rage?

Say/do anything negative towards Asra or Azalea.  She will HARM you.

12. Is there some particular talent, skill, or attribute that they simply could not give up?

She could not live without her “Tea and Cookies” spell.  It's a summoning spell where she summons a platter of Orange Pekoe tea, shortbread cookies, and two cups.  The tea and cookies heighten clarity of thought.

13. What are your character’s sleeping habits? Heavy or light sleeper? Blanket stealer? One that always rolls onto the floor? Pushes their lover onto the floor? Sleep talker or walker?

Imalia sleeps like the dead, even though she's actually being tormented in her dreams.  At least she doesn't scream and thrash...damn Lon...

14. Do they live alone or with family? How do they feel about their family/roommates?

She lives in her estate with her servant Ben Du Vos and his daughter Avery.  She loves them as if they were her actual family since Ben has been serving her family since before she was born.  Avery is just cool as hell and very utilitarian.  Mal made Avery her personal assistant, and Avery became very good at acquiring hard to get reagents and ingredients.  Asra has been known to take advantage of this a time or two.  Avery doesn’t mind, especially if it means she will get to see Muriel.  x3 

15. Is there a certain person in this world that they cannot stand? The very mention of this person’s name makes them tremble with anger or fear.

Lucio.  Imalia and Lucio were a couple for three years, once upon a time.  It was the only time Imalia ever doubted every single thing she did.  Lucio had a bad habit of taking credit for everything amazing that Imalia did, and so she started to feel like part of the furniture.  So she left.  (In Lucio’s Route) When she learned that Lucio and Azalea were together, she thought she was going to go insane.  But he made Azalea happy, so she kept her venom at a minimum.  But she watched him like a hawk.

16. Is your character the athletic type or more of a couch potato? What are some sports/games that they like?

Athletic.  Imalia loves rock climbing, swimming, wrestling, competitive combat magic, and chess.  Yes, chess counts as a physical sport to her, because when she plays you have to do push-ups every time one of your pieces is taken.

17. Does your character have dreams of getting married and/or having children?

Perpetuating her family's bloodline is extremely important to Imalia, so of course, she wants to have children at the very least.  But when she and Asra finally got together, the dreams of marriage flared up like the sun.

18. What kind of home would they want to live in? Where would they place this abode?

She already has an amazing home.  Her estate is spacious, magically protected, and is situated far enough out of the city to where you can see the stars unhindered.  Plus she is near the people she loves most.

19. Would your character be the kind to get into fights? (physical or verbal) Would they be a good fighter or cave in rather easily?

Oh yes.  Imalia loves a good fight.  The more opponents, the better.  She is a superior combat mage, so she's going to win most of the time.

20. Does your character like animals? What are some of their favorite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures?

Imalia loves animals.  She is very partial to birds.  Her familiar is a phoenix named Balthazaar.  Balth is stubborn as hell, and he hates "burning day," the day he is supposed to die and rise from the ashes.  He will just draw it out, and start looking worse and worse each passing day.  You can usually hear Mal in her study yelling "Just die, Balth, you'll feel better afterward!!  Look, you're molting burning feathers all over my expensive maps!!"

21. What is one of your character’s biggest fears? How would they react when dealing with this fear?

She is afraid that Lon will go against their contract and kill not only Imalia, but her loved ones as well and trap them forever in her realm of torture.  She keeps this fear to herself because she really doesn't want to make her loved ones afraid of her.

22. What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have?

Imalia is covered head to toe with invisible magical tattoos that flare up when she utilizes them.  They are various swirling designs and arcane symbols.  She has two visible magical tattoos, one on each hip.  One is her keys (a big honking keyring with around 20 keys on it), and the other is a jeweled Flask of Requirement (it makes any drink she needs.  It has actually made Lime Gatorade for her before; she HATES the taste but likes how it makes her feel better).  She touches the tats, and the object they display appears in her hand.  If she loses the object, it reappears on her skin within 24 hours.  Her basic vanity tattoo is her family crest on her left shoulder.  She has nine facial piercings.  Four rose gold studs over each eyebrow, and one rose gold labret piercing.  She also has pierced earlobes.  Each piece of jewelry she wears is enchanted.

23. What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved?

Imalia thrives at school.  She is a certified genius and teaches once a week at Prakra's Magical University.  She is well behaved for the most part, but very eccentric.

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like?

"Asra is the star that always guided me, but was always too far out of reach.  Until one day it floated from the sky and landed in my adoring palm."

25. Is there something traumatic from your character’s past that greatly affects them even to this day?

Her father's death during the Red Plague.  She misses his advice and boundless love.  She misses his boisterous laugh and the loud sound of his footsteps throughout the estate.  She misses having him in her corner no matter what.

26. What is their lover like sexually? How do they feel about their lover’s quirks, needs, etc?

Asra is a switch and Imalia is totally fine with it.  She is mostly a dom herself, but when Asra just HAS to dom her, she is more than happy to oblige him.  Anything he needs, she will provide.  He needs to be pegged?  She will just magically grow a dick and give every inch to him.  He needs to be treated like a princess?  Well lay right down love, and let me get to work.  He needs to rail her from behind until she sees stars?  Let's go for this constellation!  He needs a slow long fuck that leaves him breathless?  How many times would you like to cum, darling?

27. If your character was going to get arrested, what would be the most likely reason for it?

Public disturbance, destruction of property, magical assault.  >:)  "What, officer, that guy was BEGGING me to blow up his store."

28. If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for?

Well...she kind of is a celebrity in her home country of Sairuun (Say-Roon).  She's a princess.  She's famous for that, as well as surviving a mass assassination attempt on her whole family (the whole reason she lives in Vesuvia and not Sairuun; her entire family minus her cousin and her parents were killed; got to make sure at least one survives).  But her main claim to fame in Sairuun is the fact that she can cast the exact same spells as her famous ancestor, Lina Inverse.  Once a year, during the Festival of Inverse, she casts a Dragon Slave for the whole kingdom to watch.  From the safety of a mountain.

29. What is one of the most courageous things your character has ever done for a loved one?

She allowed herself to be possessed by the Lord of Nightmares in order to save the life of her cousin, Queen Dreen Suval of Sairuun.  Dreen had been possessed by the remnants of Dark Star, a horrid monster of god-like power.  The only thing that could defeat him was his creator, the Lord of Nightmares.  Imalia called upon Lon to save Dreen, and Lon decided to take up permanent residence inside Imalia until Lon could create a new body for herself.  The mother of all monsters lives in Mal because Mal couldn't let her cousin be destroyed.

30. When it comes to the arts (music, film, theater, etc), what does your character like?

Imalia LOVES music.  She loves to tour Vesuvia and find all of the street performers.  She and Asra have had some of the best dances to the music of the streets.

31. Would your character be the kind capable of killing? Would they enjoy killing or only use it when necessary or, perhaps, refuse to kill no matter what?

Not even going to lie.  Mal is a killer.  She kills, and doesn't feel bad for it.  She won't kill needlessly, but if the person/thing has done some horrible stuff...bitch misused their gift of life and has to die.

32. If your character’s lover offered to take them out on a dream date, what would they want to do?

Go to the library in Sairuun and spend all day perusing the tomes.

33. If your character wanted to be alone, where would they go?

Imalia can teleport anywhere she wants to within a specific distance, and she has a portal to take her anywhere farther.  If she needs to be alone, she will usually go to the seaside of Vesuvia, outside of the city.

34. Does your character have favorite foods? (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, etc)

She loves hot pot.  A big ol sizzling bowl full of seafood and savory vegetables.

35. Is your character afraid of death? If they got to choose how to die, how would they want to go?

Imalia definitely doesn't want to die.  But if she has to, she would want it to mean something.  Save someone she loves.  Make a change.  Tear a hole in the fabric of reality.  Anything that would scream "I WAS HERE, DAMMIT AND I DID WELL!"

36. Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life?

Not really, but whenever she uses Lon's power she ends up vomiting charcoal for a little while since her power literally burns Mal up from the inside out.  However, she won't die from it, since Lon would die with her.

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them?

She HATES controlling parents.  If she sees a parent helicoptering their child, she will either scream them deaf or storm from the room.

38. What kind of weather does your character like? Cloudy skies, rainy days, sunshine, etc?

A rainy day followed by glorious sunlight.  She can really feel the sun giving her power on those days.

39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct?

She looks mischevious.  Yes.  She very much is.

40. Does your OC have any guilty pleasures they enjoy? Hobbies, past times, music, etc that they wouldn’t want known by others?

She actually loves to dress up for parties and balls.  She knows she has a great body and she does like to flaunt it.

41. Does your character’s family affect your character in any way?

YES.  Mal's mother Narsa was a tiger mom and outright abused Mal when she was young.  To Narsa, Mal's one duty was to marry someone important.  She didn't need any other goal than that.  If Mal couldn't sit still or carry herself exactly the way Narsa wanted, Narsa would strike Mal's fingers with a reed.  She broke Mal's fingers several times, and Mal did require magical surgery to correct improper bone healing in her hands.  As a result, Imalia didn't have any real self-confidence for a long while.  And Mal's father didn't help since he bowed to the whims of his wife.  Dating Lucio had been just to please her mother, and after that ended Mal finally told her mother off and left to pursue her own dreams of attending Prakra's University.  Mal's father and mother divorced shortly after that.

42. Is there anything in your character’s past that they regret, haunts them, or they wish they could change?

She wishes she could have stopped the Plague before it took hold in Vesuvia.  Losing both her father and Azalea tore her heart apart.  Even after Asra brought Azalea back, Imalia still regretted her father's passing and will apologize to his portrait randomly.

43. Does your character have a switch that changes aspects of their personality whether they are around friends, family, etc. Is there someone who gets to see their true self?

When visiting her cousin Dreen in Sairuun, Imalia tends to be prim and proper, very diplomatic.  When the two of them are alone, they throw all pretention to the wind and curse and drink and smoke and imbibe...substances.  Dreen is her oldest and dearest friend, and Imalia is so glad that they are also related.  However, her true vulnerable self is only seen by Azalea.  The part of her that questions herself and where she is going in life.  The part that misses and loves so deeply that it hurts.  Azalea is Imalia's soul mate, even though they aren't romantically involved.

44. Is there a particular event that would emotionally devastate your character?

If Azalea were to die again.  Imalia would not be able to handle it.  She would seclude herself from everyone and swear off all magic forever.

45. Is your character the kind to hide their true emotions or do they wear their heart on their sleeve?

Imalia hides her true feelings.  When she realized that she was in love with Asra, she kept it locked up tight inside.  She's good at putting on a front and will suffer the consequences indefinitely.  True feelings give others power over you, and since she has a fucking nightmare goddess inside her, that would be devastating.  But she will eventually come to terms with her feelings and express them.

46. What is some random affectionate thing that your character always does to their lover?

Whenever she passes Asra, she will trail a finger down the center of his back.  She loves how it gives him goosebumps every single time.

47. Is your character outgoing? Would they be the leader of the friend group, or the quiet one that gets dragged along?

She's the leader, no mistake.  She's the one doing the dragging and the one that everyone looks to when shit turns south.

48. Is there anything in particular that would ignite your character’s jealousy? Or does your character not get envious?

If Lucio ogled Asra.  She would get right in Lucio's face and hiss "You want to keep those eyes, goat boy?"  Other than that, she's not jealous.  Asra loves her and that is enough.

49. What is something that your character has nightmares about? Are these frequent? Do they heavily affect your character’s mood?

Every time Imalia sleeps she has the worst nightmares due to Lon.  Lon can't control Imalia in any way, as per the terms of their contract.  However Imalia's sleep is Lon's playground, and she does every cruel and horrendous thing you can think of to her.  Yes, even that.

50. If your character confessed love to their crush, boyfriend, girlfriend, etc, what would they say?

"Asra, you are my starlit sky, my fresh Spring rain, my guiding light.  Without you, my heart aches so much I can't bear it.  You calm my mind, refresh my energy, and stay my hand when it wishes to strike.  I love you.  I love you SO. DAMN. MUCH."

[creative-frequency]

Connor|RK800 x Reader: Ocularity Ch. 7

Word count: 2711 Warnings/Categories: Rating up to explicit, romance, friendship, fluff, light angst, bad language, uncle Hank Notes: A nasty flu caused a delay in updating. After this chapter, it’s 98% Connor party. I hope you’ll enjoy this!

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October 20th 10:04 AM

You jump out of the cab and gaze at the red-tiled manor ahead. A smile curves your lips. It's just another house in the rich neighborhood, but somehow it emits a strong, warm aura that makes invitees feel welcome. You've visited the place countless times during the years of working for CyberLife. It’s always a pleasure to go there again, though it has been some time since your last visit.

The doorbell's deep chime echoes inside the house and soon an android opens the front door.

“Welcome, Doctor,” he says with a smile, “Come in.”

“Thank you.”

Prototype RK200, serial number 684 842 971, or as you know him: Markus. The android gifted by Elijah Kamski to the famous painted Carl Manfred after his accident. The reason behind the gift, besides the obvious, remains a mystery to the world.

Markus takes your coat and scarf, and you rub your palms together to warm your hands. The mornings are getting colder, reminding you to buy new gloves for the season. The weather reminds you of the first time you visited the manor.

“Carl is in his studio. I'll see if I can get him to take a break,” Markus says. He leads you to the living room and motions for you to sit down.

“Okay. Sorry if I came at a bad time...” you say.

“Not at all, I think he's been waiting for you,” Markus reveals with a hint of a smirk.

You let out a short, delighted chuckle. “And here I thought I came to see you.”

Markus enters the studio while you make yourself comfortable, take out the datapad from your purse and turn it on.

The living room of the Manfred Manor is a world of wonders, but with a quick glance around, nothing major seems to have changed. You still think the stuffed giraffe looks menacing. Someone, presumably Markus, has left in the middle of a game of chess. Hopefully, you will soon have the chance to challenge him again, even though it will certainly lead into a devastating loss. You hum at the thought and turn your attention to the datapad.

The purpose of your visit is to run a system check on Markus and interview him about anything related to his functions. It's a standard procedure with all prototypes, which there are several in Detroit. You visit each one once or twice a month.

Markus has been your responsibility ever since you started in your current job. He has always been stable with zero worrying symptoms, and that has led to your visits becoming more of social calls than work.

Markus’s most notable ability is the preconstruction of outcomes in real time. You’re not aware of any other model having the capacity for it. Thus, you have silently come to the conclusion that Kamski has coded it himself and hasn’t shared his secrets.

“Nice to see you, Doctor,” Carl grunts as Markus pushes his wheelchair from the studio.

You get up from the couch and can’t help the smile on your face. You missed him. “Good to see you too, Carl.”

He has specifically told you not to call him Mr. Manfred or any abbreviation of that. According to him, you see each other too often in his own home to not be on first-name basis.

Funny thing is, when you told Carl about your education and doctorate, he has insisted on using your title ever since because of the “hellish amount of work you've done to get it.” He is right, so you acquiesced to that.

Markus parks Carl's wheelchair next to the couch and you shake the old man’s hand, though it’s more of a warm touch akin to a hug than a formal greeting.

“Would you like some tea, Doctor?” Markus inquires.

“Yes, please. Black, if you have,” you add before the android can voice the follow-up question.

You and Carl have at least one thing in common: You both love tea. Carl has made sure he always has different varieties at home in case you’ll come for a visit.

When Markus disappears into the kitchen, you turn to see Carl looking at you. He looks contemplating, like he is about to say something, but is unsure how to phrase it. Or he is just scrutinizing you.

You sit back on the couch and hold back a sigh. “How've you been?” you decide to ask to lift the silence.

Carl shrugs dismissively and nods towards the kitchen. “Shouldn't you be asking about him?”

Your brows rise up. Salty, you think. You undoubtedly deserve it.

“Yes,” you say slowly, “but it's my job to interview you too.”

“Oh, so that's why you keep coming back to keep company to an old man like me. Figures.”

Finally, he cracks a smile, but it’s a slightly sad one.

“I had to… take some time away from work. I apologize.” You look at your hands resting on your knees.

Carl scoffs gently. “Bah, don’t.” He comes a bit closer. “I’m glad to see you didn’t quit for good.” His rumbling, low voice is warm and it’s easy to hear the relief in the words.

“Thank you,” you say, “I should’ve called you myself. Sorry.” Voicing the statement causes a slight pinch of shame in you. It’s been two months since your last visit. Two months since you almost made it to the news.

Carl swats your apologies away. “So, they cleaned up the mess pretty quickly?” he asks casually.

A whole different kind of mess relating to what Carl is asking about jumps from your memory. He is waiting to see your reaction, but most of it is just the block of ice that falls into your stomach – a new tip to the iceberg you’ve been trying to get rid of for weeks now.

Your lips purse together and you honestly don't know how to answer.

“I saw the news. Sorry to see what happened,” Carl continues with a questioning intonation.

“Yes. I suppose...” You shift uncomfortably in the seat and avoid Carl’s inquisitive gaze. It’s hard to stay in the role of a good CyberLife worker in his company.

“What's the verdict, then?” he asks.

“The detective prototype will be back in action next week,” you parrot automatically, not even hearing the words yourself anymore. You’ve been counting days in the back of your mind, consciously trying to ignore the looming uncertain future.

“Mhm. And?” Carl shoots a look at you.

“I haven't been given any instructions yet or an assessment of the evaluation on my work with it.” You can't hold back the sigh and a wall breaks. “They just said ‘thank you for the hard work’, but I wish I knew what they're going to do with him. I feel like it's my fault–”

“It's not,” Carl says decisively.

You smile faintly. It’s easy to believe him, but he doesn't know everything. You partly wish he did. There is no one else who could offer so valuable and objective life advice – from a seasoned veteran to a rookie.

“Thanks. I appreciate the sentiment. I guess they're letting me keep my job,” you laugh dryly. The sound is too hollow for the warm environment.

“Take your victories where you can.” Carl shakes his head. “How’s your agenda going?”

Your heart makes a different kind of leap. “The one we’re not supposed to talk about?” You smile and glance towards the kitchen. “Good. I… I feel better knowing I’m doing something.”

Carl lets his gaze wonder around the room as he sighs through the nose. “This world could use more people like you – good people, who are willing to fix what’s wrong.”

You chuckle at his poorly concealed praise. There are two sides to you: The conscientious tax-payer slaving away for a multi-billion dollar company and the vigilante running around the city saving deviants.

“As long as that fixing is as literal as what I’ve been doing now…” you say quietly.

Carl laughs too and looks up to see Markus arriving with a tray.

“Thank you,” you both murmur as the android pours tea into two cups. It smells spicy with cinnamon as the dominant flavor. Exquisite, as expected.

“We can get started as soon as you wish, Doctor,” Markus says and nods towards the datapad on the coffee table. The LED on his temple whirls in brighter blue and a box pops up in the display.

Connect to RK200 #684 842 971?

“Alright then.”

November 1st 04:30 AM

It’s the small hours of the night, when you’re roused from a calm sleep, awakened to blink in confusion and listen to the quiet footsteps in the corridor. It requires a moment before you’re able to collect the pieces of the slow world and form a sensible image of what’s happening.

Liara is walking down the stairs, quietly, but you’re able to hear the creaking of the wood under her feet.

Someone is knocking on your front door in short, urgent series.

You glance at the time on your phone without realizing anything about the numbers besides that it’s really late, or early, depending on the point of view. Definitely not the common visiting hours.

You crawl out from the warmth of the bed covers to grab your bathrobe, and head downstairs.

“Welcome, Markus.”

“Liara, who’s the– HOLY FUCK,” you scream and while your body is still jumping in the air, you have already realized who stands at the doorway.

“Please–”

You run to the door, simultaneously pulling your sleeves up. “What happened?!”

You pull the android covered in dirt and sopping rags inside, take peek around to the street to make sure no one is there and hastily close the door.

Markus is functioning well, but he looks absolutely terrible. You can’t help but wonder how he was outside in the neighborhood looking like that and no one called the cops. His clothes are torn and muddy, and his skin mask is cloudy in spots which is the first sign that he has been in critical state recently and is in dire need of Thirium. He looks like he has been through hell, literally.

“Carl– he always said I should come to you in case anything happens–”

“Are you damaged? Liara, can you scan him, please?” You hover around the android, unsure of whether to touch him or not, or how to help.

“All systems fully operational. Thirium levels are low, but not critical,” Liara informs immediately.

“I’m fine,” Markus says in an utterly unconvincing tone.

You grab his shoulders and fixate a dire look on his eyes. The right one is blue instead of olive green. If Markus is here and something happened to Carl… You need to push the thoughts away to focus on what has more dire need for your attention.

“Are you a deviant?” you ask after taking a short breath.

Markus looks back at you, his mouth falling open and closing. His expression is pained. He closes his eyes and scrunches his nose, tilting his head to the side. He is hurting. Anyone could see that.

“They thought I did it,” he says, voice filled with desperation.

Your hands drop down his arms, as does your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

You’re scared to ask, but you need to know.

“Tell me.”

It takes significant amount of effort for Markus to start speaking. You can see the situation unfolding: Leo in Carl’s studio, snooping around and thieving. Carl aggravated by his good-for-nothing son’s arrogance and presence, telling Markus not to answer to his provoking. How Markus only watched, hoping he would have chosen otherwise. He had to pay the ultimate price for his inaction – or so Leo and the police, who shot him and then dumped him into the landfill, thought.

You’re rooted in place in the vestibule, listening to the android tell you how he felt. His words burn with emotion and love for his master, and that same fire is what he gets to thank for standing in your home on his own two feet after the ordeal.

You don’t usually ask how androids become deviants. You don’t need to know their reasons and the hideous wrongdoings humans direct at them, causing so much emotional trauma that they force a machine to wake up and become alive.

Some of them could well be murderers. Others might weep for having to leave their previous life behind. Whatever the case may be with each individual, it’s not your decision whether they’ll be allowed to live their newly found life or not. So, you help everyone who asks.

There is a long pause when Markus stops speaking. You’re still standing in front of him, staring at his chest. You can’t believe Carl Manfred is gone. The strongest floating thought in your head is that you owe it to him to help Markus.

“I need to get to the Ferndale Station,” Markus says quietly, making you look up.

“Jericho?” you ask.

He nods. There is peace in the resolve etched into his features – a destination instead of grief and confusion. It’s a good thing. It’s what saves most deviants.

“Shower, before anything else. Liara, please…” Markus almost starts to protest, but you raise your hand to interrupt him: “You need to clean up before we can check your new parts. I’ll find you some clothes.”

It’s not often that deviants wander behind your door, but you’ve accumulated a small storage of clothes to give to any who come looking too much like androids, asking for help. Blending in is the most efficient way to survive.

After the shower, clean cargo pants, a dark grey sweater and a bottle of Thirium Markus looks like himself again, though slightly shaky. He sits down in your study, elbows leaning on his knees and head hanging. It’s impossible to know what goes through the mind of an android who has just deviated, but the reaction is well-known to you.

You roll your chair in front of Markus and he straightens up. Liara walks in with a cup of coffee and places it on the desk. You sneer lightly before taking a long sip.

“Got rid of the LED?” you ask and carefully touch the place on Markus’s temple where the light was. An android’s LED is easy to tear away with brute force and minimal mark left on the frame. There seems to be none on him.

“Yes,” Markus nods. “At the scrapyard.”

“Okay, good. Then it shouldn’t be a problem if it’s found.” You force a calming smile. “What components did you have to replace?”

“I uh, legs. Both legs. The pump regulator was damaged.” Markus touches his chest.

You might have to take a look at the biocomponent to make sure it’s in perfect condition. Any errors or malfunctions in regulating the Thirium pump will have fast and dire consequences.

“And the eye?” you ask as you move on to inspect the blue iris.

“My right optical unit and audio processor,” Markus says.

Your gaze turns to his ear and you sigh. “Well, you did look like shit when you came here. At least they didn’t take your ear shell. That’d be harder to fix.”

Markus manages a half-smirk. “Thanks, Doctor.”

You roll the chair away from him and take your datapad. The information from Liara’s scan is open on the screen. You’ll double check the compatibility of the new and borrowed biocomponents, and then test their physical and working condition. You might be able to snatch spare parts from the CyberLife assembly plant if needed.

“I should go as soon as I can,” Markus says.

You look up from the datapad and reach for the coffee cup. “I agree, but…”

He leans forward on the chair, clasping his hands. “But?”

You chew your lip in thought instead of drinking. “I think you should wait for a day or two here. You– you just became a deviant and… I don’t think you should be alone right now. And we need to talk about Carl.”

Markus looks troubled, but after a while of examining the look on your face, he nods in agreement. He trusts Carl’s judgment and you only hope to be worth it.

Next Chapter

Tagging (lmk if you want to be tagged or not): @sevansheart​ @precursor-ao3​ @gberryb​ @owlwrites​ @lucianhuntress​ @singlebecauseofthechocobros​ @bleucommelhiver​ @sherniwrites​ @n-ulll​ @mccastle-boi​ @toastyfiction​ @touzokukana​ @imaginovator​ @avispate​ @kuolematkorjaavat​ @caladheil​ @lusiifer​ @shadows-echoes​

[urkitkat]

Relationships of couples are complicated. Really complicated. That’s why Tori Vega has tried to avoid them. So, since she broke up with her last boyfriend, she decided to say “No” to every boy that asked her out.

As a good sister, Trina supported her and tried to calm her down.

“Best things in life arrive when you least expect it, even the love of your life”.

Tori repeated it as she was driving to a gas station, so Trina also told her to pick her up at the US Corner Store because someone stole her car while she was heading down to a Big Time Rush Concert. Tori just couldn’t believe she was doing that, but she couldn’t say “No”, even if that was all about her own sister.

She stopped at a red and lighted-rocked building and called her.

“Trina?”

No answers. Tori got down of her car and made her way to the gas station’s shop.

“Where in the world will be she?” she asked to herself as she opened the door.

At least, inside the place, there wasn’t as hot as outside.

“Trina?”

No answers again. Tori started to worry. What if the car’s thief kidnaped her and the message was all a trap?

But just when she tought everything was going really really bad, her phone whisteled for a new message.

Hey, Tori. Sorry, if you are there and you don’t find me around there just let ya know I’m in the WC. See ya in some minutes at outdoors’.

Tori wanted to hit her head on the ice cream’s shelving. Who would think to give her a sister like Trina? Anyways, she felt relaxed to know her sister was safe. To celebrate it, Tori decided to take an ice cream from the shelving... But she couldn’t reach it.

“Oh! Come one! I need it for my sister and for me to celebrate nobody kidnapped her!! Althought I wouldn’t mind if I spent a good season without her, I need it!!!” “Can I help you?”

She took her glasses off and saw a tall, with really matched body, soft brown hair and sweet hazelnuts eyes which beautiful smile ended up to make Tori fall in love altogether.

The mysterious and handsome boy just had to strech his brawny arm almost at his same height to give her the little white ice cream. Tori didn’t know if it was the low temperature of the US Corner Store, the ice cream or simply him what froze her.

“These shelvings are bad built. I advise you to bring a ladder the next time you come here.” “Y-yeah, I’ll do. Thank you.”

He smiled again. The fluorescent tubes of the ceiling made his eyes shine in a way Tori wouldn’t mind to be watching during a long long time.

“Hey, James! We’re here!”

Tori turned around. A blonde and green-eyed boy maybe not as tall as the mysterious one but handsome too was calling him from the automatic doors of the store with other two boys. They both looked pretty, although the smallest and darked-skin one seemed funnier than his serious and big-dusk-brown-eyed mate, but Tori thought it might gave the impression of being the smartest one.

“Sorry, have to go,” he said as he made her way to his friends. By that time, they were out, but he stopped for a moment “Nice to meet you...” “Tori.” she corrected. He smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Tori.”

She couldn’t let him go somehow. It couldn’t be just “I can’t reach an ice cream, then someone hot appeared and gave it to me...” And finally he goes, without knowing a simply number phone...

“Wait!”

James turned around. “Yes?”

Tori got stucked. Why did she said that? Now he’ll think she’s hopeless.

“Uh... Sorry for bothering you again but... Have you seen, just by chance, a girl with curly hair and... you know... a bit mad?”

James laughed. Tori just couldn’t believe she said that. She was as red as a beet.

“You mean like her?”

Tori felt two fingers pocking her both sides of her waist.

“Aahh!”

She turned around and saw her sister beside her.

“Trina!” “Yeah, just like me. Thank you, James! Goodbye!” she smirked hugging Tori. “No problem, see ya!” he winked at Tori before he went away.

Tori was fuming bad.

“Trina! I was really worried about you!” she shouted as she was hugging her. “You okay? Nothing broken?” “Yeah, I’m ok, Tori. Don’t worry about me.” “How do you want me to not be worried about you?! Someone stole your car! You could be injured!” “Tori, forget it by once! Everything’s ok now. Tell me, have you spent a romantic time with James?” “How could you take this dangerous experience so quietly, Trina?! I don’t care at all about-” “Nobody stole my car.”

Tori was shocked. Actually... everything was a lie and she came there for nothing?!

Suddenly, her mobile-phone whisteled.

Can’t wait to see ya beautiful... Love ya! :)

Everything was a madhouse. First she met a really hot boy, then she found out Trina’s car wasn’t stolen and now a flirty message from... an ex? Because at the end, James didn’t asked her her number phone...

“What?!” “Letme guess... A message from James!”

Tori frowned.

“What?!” she repeated.

Trina sighed. Then, she took her sister’s mobile phone and keyed something on the screen.

“Here.” she gave back. “What did you just...?” she asked confused before she realized of everything. “Trina, what is this all about?!” “Look at your mail box app.”

Tori obeyed, althought she was a bit sick that Trina doesn’t say the thruth.

Suddenly, she clicked on the mysterious message and it showed up a pic of James posing in a seductive way with a chess T-shirt and his name written down. Tori couldn’t avoid but to draw a smile on her face.

“Hey, you’re smiling...” Trina smirked and took a step closer to her sister. “So you like him?”

Tori raised her head at her at the second, but at least, she was not angry.

“Trina, I hope you’ve a good explanation for this.” “I’ll tell you everything on our way to the Big Time Rush’s concert, so you can see James Diamond again. I have two tickets.” she said waving two golden piece of papers. “But first let’s pay that ice cream.”

Tori would have killed her sister right there, but she thought give another chance to love wouldn’t be bad at all. :)

[louisfeatharry]

today’s new year’s eve, and i’ve already given 15 of my favorite fics from this year! you can see that list here. 

and thus! here is part two of my list of my favorite fics from 2017!

note: all fics listed have been completed in 2017, although some may have started in previous years.

in alphabetical order:

Paint Me In A Million Dreams by green_feelings

Perfect Storm by cherrystreet

pray for some sweet simplicity by delsicle

rivers ‘til i reach you by embodied

Runaway Land by daggerinrose

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by alivingfire

some velvet morning, years too late by tintedglasses

start me over by camiii

Tainted Spirits for Three by sweetlullabies

Tell Me How To Feel About You Now by justyrae

The End Should Be A Good One by bananasandboots

the wonderlands by stylinsoncity

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy

You’re A Universe by Jiksa

all information on the fics is under the cut.

Paint Me In A Million Dreams by green_feelings [@greenfeelings​] (110k) Harry/Louis, fake relationship, enemies to friends to lovers

Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

⇨  read on ao3

Perfect Storm by cherrystreet [@cherrystreet​] (80k) Harry/Louis, fake relationship, exes to lovers

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

⇨  read on ao3

pray for some sweet simplicity by delsicle [@emperorstyles​] (237k) Harry/Louis, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, sports, enemies to lovers, secret relationship

Louis is the only omega to ever make it in the cut-throat world of competitive motorcycle racing—that is, he would be if anyone actually knew about his identity. Now, his sights are set towards competing in—and winning—the European Grand Prix, the biggest and most difficult race of the entire year, so he can disappear underground for good. He’s close enough, too, until an alpha sports journalist is assigned to follow Louis’s every move as he prepares for the event of his career.

Or, an AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

⇨  read on ao3

rivers ‘til i reach you by embodied [@crossnecklace​] (29k) Harry/Louis, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer. 

AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

⇨  read on ao3

Runaway Land by daggerinrose [@thetommmo​] (103k) Harry/Louis, modern Greek mythology AU, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Louis is sure he’s stumbled upon a secret, underground nightclub, though that is far from the truth. He’s also pretty sure he’s stumbled upon Apollo, which… isn’t very far from the truth, actually.

Modern Greek mythology AU.

⇨  read on ao3

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by alivingfire [@alivingfire​] (110k) Harry/Louis, angels & demons AU, fantasy & supernatural, historical AU

Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they're both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war. 

Louis has been alive since life was a mere concept; he watched the summoning of Man into existence, he was there when Eve took the apple. He’s seen seas break the world into separate pieces, he’s watched empires crumble into dust. He’s seen wildfire consume cities, he’s seen the world painted white with snow. He has known the most beautiful humans to walk the planet, he has watched the most powerful mortals gather their riches and influence around them and then die just like the poorest, weakest humans do. He’s met humans whose motives defy explanation, people who use their lives as battering rams, as tools, as weapons, as chess pieces.

None of that stopped Louis in his tracks.

But Harry did.

⇨  read on ao3

some velvet morning, years too late by tintedglasses [@tintedglasses​] (35k) Louis/Nick Grimshaw, famous/non-famous, secret marriage, exes to lovers

A better adult probably would have changed their emergency contact information once they had convinced said contact that they wanted nothing to do with them, but Louis had never been very good at proper adult things. Besides, it’s not like he thought he’d ever need it.

Or: Louis wakes up in the hospital with unfinished business at his bedside. Turns out Nick has some unfinished business, too.

⇨  read on ao3

start me over by camiii [ @camiii​ ] (44k) Louis/Nick Grimshaw, travel rep AU, enemies to lovers

"Nick’s funny when he’s not being a knob, and has good taste in music and Louis really likes his hands. Not to mention that he’s tall, tall enough to have made Louis spend a minute or two imagining what it would be like to have Nick pin him to a flat surface and snog him senseless. The only thing keeping him from a full grown crush at this point is sheer will and the threat of humiliation. 

So, Nick’s a dickhead but unfortunately Louis is kind of into that."

⇨  read on ao3

Tainted Spirits for Three by sweetlullabies (80k) Harry/Louis, Louis/Zayn, high school AU, love triangles

Louis was walking alongside the bleachers when an orange flying object nearly took his head off. Well, it missed, but it was still pretty close, and it hit the bleachers and bounced around before rolling to a stop. Louis turned in the direction the ball came from, in order to see who this was that had decided to kill him.

“Sorry,” Harry said, scratching at his curls. “I just, uh…lost control.”

or the au where Harry loves Louis, and Zayn does too, which results in confusion that tests Louis' relationships with both.

⇨  read on ao3

Tell Me How To Feel About You Now by justyrae [@imlouisaf​] (38k) Harry/Louis, college/university AU, famous/nonfamous, friends to lovers

Louis thought it would feel different once he got to LA. He knew it was best for him; a fresh start as far away as he could get. But when the plane touched down and he stepped out into the hot air around LAX, Louis felt exactly the same.

There's still a hole in his chest where his heart used to be; ripped away even after trying for so many years to keep it from happening. He knows it's not all his fault, not by a mile, but it doesn't stop him from blaming himself for it all going wrong.

If he'd just stayed strong, if he'd said no when he said yes, maybe everything would be different.

Or, Harry has been trying to convince Louis to date him for years, but Louis has always been wary of Harry’s fairly obvious commitment issues. Louis eventually gives him a chance, opening his heart up to the one thing he fears.

⇨  read on ao3

The End Should Be A Good One by bananasandboots [@anylessreal​] (43k) Harry/Louis, exes to lovers

It doesn't feel like falling in love, the way it had felt the first time around, easy, simple, almost like floating, wrapped up in a whirlwind of touches and kisses, late nights spent laughing breathlessly into each other's skin. This feels broken, complicated, like every move carries the weight of their past. Like the floorboards beneath them could collapse at any moment. This doesn't feel good.

Or, the one where Harry loses the love of his life on New Years Eve and finds him again, six months later, ready to open some poorly-stitched wounds.

⇨  read on ao3

the wonderlands by stylinsoncity [@aliensingucci​] (150k) Harry/Louis, famous/nonfamous, music industry AU

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

⇨  read on ao3

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore [@mediawhorefics​] (102k) Harry/Louis, ghost hunters AU, fantasy & supernatural, historical AU

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

⇨  read on ao3

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy [@daisyharry​] (149k) Harry/Louis, road trip AU, college/university AU, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.

-

A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

⇨  read on ao3

You’re A Universe by Jiksa [@jiksax​] (15k) Harry/Louis, established relationship, angst

Harry doesn’t ever mean to hurt him; Louis doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s the only thing he ever does anymore.

Or, Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

⇨  read on ao3

and that’s it for 2017! here’s to more amazing fics in 2018!

credits for resources in banner: saturnthms (gradient), resourcescollection (galaxy texture), & kaeveeoh-art (speech bubble animation)

[ecotone99]

[MF] I can't ask permission and I don't expect forgiveness

"Here it comes," Virgil whispered under his breath, turning away from the approaching policeman.

Joanie shoved hands in pockets and replied, also in a whisper, "Be cool." Then, to the Nora, "Keep digging."

"Hello," the policeman said, talking loud as he was still twenty yards away, moving with purposeful strides across the green grass of Tranquility Park. "I'll have to ask you to stop that digging."

Virgil, in a navy blue suit, took a breath and squared his shoulders towards the Policeman. He attempted a smile and stuck out his hand. "Hello officer. What seems to be the problem?"

Behind him Joanie and Nora, both wearing work clothes - jeans, boots, reflective safety vests over cotton and hard hats - paused to watch. They were standing around a plaque set into the ground that read: "City of Houston Time Capsule. Buried September 2nd, 1960. Not to be opened until September 2nd, 2015."

"Can I see your work permit?" the cop asked, ignoring Virgil's hand.

Virgil looked around, confused and stammered, "...permit...? Why... what...?"

"Yeah, yeah," Joanie said. "I got it over here." She retrieved a metal clipboard, opened it, and flipped through a stack of paper.

"I can call the Mayor's office?" Virgil offered.

"No, no," Joanie replied. "I'm sure I have a copy."

"So do I dig or what?" Nora said.

"No," the cop said.

"Yes," Joanie said at the same time.

Nora speared the blade of the shovel in the ground and leaned on the handle. A big girl, crowding six feet tall and past the two century mark, her top-weight pushed it down a good six inches. She winked at the cop. "I'm listening to the man with the gun."

For all her heft, Nora had a very pretty face. Long, wavy curls of hair escaped from her hardhat and she made a show of tucking them back in. "Hell, even if he didn't have the gun," she continued, "he's too cute to argue with."

The cop - a youthful black who enjoyed visiting the gym, radiated confidence, and kept his appearance sharp and professional - did a double take. When she caught his eye, Nora winked again and there it was - that moment a man, confronted with such an unlikely specimen, thought, what if...?

"Here," Joanie snapped up a piece of paper. "Found it."

She handed it to Virgil who passed it to the cop.

The cop looked at its face. It appeared official enough, with stamps and signatures, but he didn't know enough about it to say one way or the other. "I'll have to call this in," he decided.

"For Christsake," Joanie bitched.

"Hey now," Nora beamed. "Overtime!"

"Look," Virgil said, "Just call the Mayor's office. You know Jack Vance, right? Ask for him."

"All I know is this thing isn't supposed to be dug up until tomorrow," the cop said. "There's supposed to be press; even a van. Buses of kids and all that. You guys are making a mistake."

Virgil nodded his head and chuckled, "Yes, you're right, officer....?"

"Martin."

"Officer Martin. See, the thing is, well.... Did you hear what happened when they opened the League City time capsule two years ago? No? It was somewhat of a disaster. Fifty years ago they didn't appreciate what the groundwater around here could do to even the sturdiest box made during that time. Anyway it was a stinking mess. The only things that survived were bits and pieces of old junk that couldn't be corroded. They pulled something out that looked - I swear to God - just like a wooden dildo. Might have been part of something else when it had been buried, but when they slapped it in the Mayor's hand.... Well, most people snickered, but quite a few were very offended. All those kids asking 'what's that, mommy?'.

"Oh! And there was the frog, too. Well, the frog skeleton, dressed in an adorable tuxedo - complete with a top-hat and cane, hermetically sealed in a bag with the sheet music to Ragtime Gal-"

"-Can we get on with this?" Joanie interrupted. "No way this project is authorized for golden time."

Virgil touched Officer Martin's arm, gently turning him away. "Our Mayor does not want that happening here. So this is somewhat of a preemptive strike. If we find everything in order, the capsule goes back and we cover it up just like it was. Bada bing. If, however, it's a big smelly puddle of slop? Well, I've got some clean old junk in my car. You understand how this works? Have to make hizhonor look good for the cameras."

Officer Martin's eyes went from the unctuous Virgil, to the exasperated Joanie, landing on the bemused Nora. "Okay," he said. "Carry on."

"Thank you Officer," Virgil said, once again attempting to smile.

"Hey Officer Martin," Nora called out. "You want to help dig? I'll bet those big arms of yours could make short work of this hole."

Officer Martin fought back a grin. "Tell you what, lady. I'll swing by here after I get off work and see if still need help with your hole."

Nora barked out a laugh loud enough to be heard in Sugar Land. "When's your shift end?"

"Eight o'clock."

"Me and my hole will be waiting."

Officer Martin strutted away using everything his momma gave him.

When the policeman was out of earshot, Joanie cut her eyes from Virgil to Nora and back again. "Jesus, you two...."

***

"I have bad news," Richard Hautala told Joanie. As if to emphasize the words, he dragged a straight razor across his hairy and bespotted forearm. A thin line of blood welled up from the cut.

"Um," Joanie said.

"Oh, this?" Hautala held up the razor. "This is just for effect." He turned it around and showed Joanie the other side where a tube containing red-dyed Vaseline lay across the blade. "It ain't real. It's about as sharp as an asshole. You squeeze this here for the blood." He demonstrated, dragging it across his wrist this time - same result: a thin line of red.

"Okay."

"But why, you're wondering?"

"Hey, Mr. Hautala, really-"

"-Surely you noticed my new look?" Old Man Hautala smiled - dentures gleaming - and twisted his head to let Joanie take it all in. An octogenarian, Mr. Hautala was bald and shriveled with the body shape - and skin texture - of an avocado. But since Joanie had last seen him, he'd added eyebrow studs, ear stretchings, and facial tattoos - tears at the corner of his eyes. He had a stud on one nostril and a loop through his lower lip.

He winked and lifted his polo shirt. Both sagging, leathery nipples had been pierced; connected by a silver chain.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"That's.... Something," Joanie rubbed the back of her neck. "You said bad news?"

"Kids today," Mr. Hautala explained, tucking his shirt back in, "do this shit now. If I want their business, I have to show them I relate." He gingerly brought a finger up to touch one of the ear stretchers.

Joanie flinched when the whole ear fell off, hitting the ground with a clang.

"Oops," Mr. Hautala reached to pick it up. Like the razor, it was a fake. His real ear was still where it belonged, on the side of his head. It had liver spots and tufts of hair, but no holes.

"I don't mind telling you," he said, fitting the prosthetic and screwing it in place, "it's all fake. Even the tattoos. Why take a needle when Sharpies cost, like, a dollar?"

Joanie shrugged.

"Right?"

"You said bad news?" Joanie prodded.

"These couple of kids come in looking to trade on old tech. On chips? Yeah, right, I tell them I'll do what I can, but don't go buying that house in the subs just yet. Anyway, these kids look like... like... the colour out of space, you know? Barely human. The dude had horns. No shit, implanted little nubs on his forehead, supposed to be horns. Huh. The girl's pants were so tight, you could tell what she drank for.... Nevermind. Anyway, when they come back and I tell them the deal, she starts slicing up her arm. I'm hip. Bad news hurts. Give me a whetstone, a Gillette, a squirting flower and five minutes and we'll commiserate together, darlin'. So here I am. What do you think?"

"Desperate times," Joanie stated.

"Too right!" Mr. Hautala exclaimed.

"The bad news?" Joanie tried again.

"Yeah. Turns out the buyer is in a sanitarium so.... No money."

Joanie rubbed a hand over her face.

"Okay, so this is not to say there will never be money, but just now...? She's kind of tied up."

***

Houston, September 2nd, 1960.

Ten year old Marion Bradley stood in wide-eyed wonder as the celebrity worked his way through the crowd. He tossed his head back and showed teeth when he laughed and, when he shook hands with the city's politicians, his head tilted slightly and his eyebrows raised inquisitively at their names. Houston doesn't have a fall season, so it was hot, but even still the celebrity wore a tapered jacket with a fleece collar. His waist was encircled by a gun-belt; the holster of which bore the image of a chess piece. He said "Thank you," with a peculiar clip to the words.

His name was Richard Boone and he was there on a publicity junket and to watch the time-capsule buried.

To young Marion, however, his name was Paladin and he was just about the closest thing to a living god she'd ever seen. Once a week she saw him on the television being as brave and intractable, wise and lusty as the entire pantheon of Greek deities; so how could he be here, now, walking around with them just as if he were a real person?

She was positively transfixed.

As he moved among the people, his eyes fell on her and he smiled. "Ho ho!" he said, scooping her off her feet. "What do we have here?"

Under his hands, Marion's flower dress became wings and she flew in the sky. If he let go, she'd fall into the sun. He didn't let go, however, just spun her around in a circle then set her back down. "You are just about the cutest thing I have ever seen. I believe I'm going to ask your father if you can join me for dinner tonight at the Carlton Hotel?"

Standing next to them, beaming like a child himself, her dad said, "Maybe when she's older."

"It's a date," Paladin said, slipping her a card with a wink. He gave one to her father, too. In fact, he handed them out freely to all around.

As they were closing the lid on the time capsule, he used two fingers to expertly flick one of those cards into the box. People cheered as it spun through the narrow opening at just the last moment possible.

The cards all bore the image of that same chess piece from the holster. They read "Have Gun, Will Travel".

Marion Bradley held the card in both hands like an icon. She knew it was a treasure she would never lose.

\***

"Of course she lost it - or threw it away." Mr. Hautala had bagged up the card they'd retrieved from the time capsule. He slid it across the table to Joanie. "This was supposed to be the replacement. Shame. She was going to pay over a two hundred grand for it too."

Joanie, hands folded on her lap, looked at the card. It was remarkably well preserved. "What's it worth, really?" she asked.

"Less than nothing," he replied. "Well, check that. Because of the press you're getting, I could maybe get a couple thou. Maybe. It isn't every day you can snag grip from a stolen time capsule. The weirdness factor alone might go five grand." Mr. Hautala shrugged.

"Well, the buyer still wants it, though, right?"

"Sure. But, like I said, they locked her up."

"When's she getting out?"

"Eh, this could be one of those if she's getting out situations." Mr. Hautala rubbed his thumb against two fingers, making the international gesture of money. "She's very wealthy and her family is worried about their inheritance."

"Doesn't seem like a reason to lock her up." Joanie crossed her arms. "Isn't she fighting it?"

"Absolutely. She's a big shot lawyer, you know. It's just that, well, she has gone a little crazy." He tapped the card. "Two hundred grand plus for this? Do you know how many of these cards are out there? Even supposedly authentic ones - printed by the studio in the 50s and 60s - can be had for around fifty bucks. Hell, you can get one signed by Richard Boone himself for a thou or less. Nope. She has to have this one; no matter what the cost." Mr. Hautala whistled low and circled a finger around his ear.

"She's a collector," Joanie said, sounding indignant. "Lots of people pay lots more for stupider stuff."

"Sure," Mr. Hautala agreed. "But Marion Bradley isn't a collector. She is trying to recreate her life to be exactly like it was when she was a girl back in the '60s. Bought her parents' old house; got a refurbished Chevy Covair; snatched up every toy from that era. Changed her wardrobe. She's been sinking millions of dollars into this obsession. The doctors call it crippling nostalgia."

"They just made that up."

"She showed up in court wearing pedal pushers and a denim blouse knotted under her breasts. Her hair in ponytails, sucking a lollipop. She weighs close to two hundred pounds."

Mr. Hautala lifted the duffel-bag containing the rest of the stuff Joanie and her crew stole from the time capsule and handed it over. "Me? I don't get it," he said. "I never did look forward to looking back. Of course, that's probably because things were so terrible when I was a kid. Wars with a capital W. Diseases and no medicine. Hunger. And the constant fear of death from above 'cause all those damned pterodactyls."

"Is anything in here worth... anything?" Joanie said, lifting the bag.

Mr. Hautala made a face. "I took pictures and notes. Like I said, I'll shop it around. Y'all got a trending news story with that time capsule burglary, so there may be some interest there. But beyond nostalgia or weirdness?" He shook his head.

Dejected, Joanie stood to leave.

"Hey kid," Mr. Hautala stopped her at the door. "Just in case you're interested - the sanitarium where they're keeping Marion Bradley is located over on the Southwest side. In Missouri City. A place called Sendak's. Not like she's locked up in Supermax or anything."

Joanie paused with her hand on the doorknob. She blinked twice.

"She'd be grateful, I'm sure," Mr. Hautala continued, "for a visit."

Joanie nodded slowly.

"Hey, check this out!" Mr. Hautala raised the fake razor to his mouth. "You think this'll freak those kids next time I see them?" He opened his mouth wide, eyes popping, and dragged the dull blade all over his tongue.

He also squirted some of the fake blood.

"Pah!" he winced, spitting. "Yuk!"

Joanie left him, closing the door on a sputtering of "Puh!"'s

***

"Oh shit," Virgil said, his eyes growing wide. "Ohshitohshitohshit,"

They were sitting in the booth of a Mexican restaurant close to the airport with the time capsule items spread out over the table, taking inventory. Virgil's outburst had been caused by the door opening. Joanie looked over her shoulder to see Detective Donald Sobol walking in.

"Be cool," she grabbed Virgil's wrist just as he was about to start scooping all the stolen items into the bag. "Be cool."

She let go the wrist. Virgil folded his hands.

Momentarily, Detective Sobol stood at the edge of their table. "Well hello, Ms. Muncie," he said. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Detective," Joanie muttered by way of greeting.

Detective Sobol set his hands on the table and hunched over the various maps, papers, trinkets, toys and doo-dads. He smiled. His aquamarine eyes sparkled. He laughed, showing them the two rows of coffee and cigarette stained teeth. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Joanie said.

"Oh, nothing." He stood up. Then pushed his hands on his lower back and stretched. "Hey, maybe you can help me out with something. There was this unusual robbery yesterday, maybe you heard? A crew of slick operators stole a time capsule just before it was supposed to be dug up. Really embarrassed the Mayor in front of all those news cameras; standing over an empty hole with a bunch of nothing. But you wouldn't know anything about that?"

"What's a time capsule?" Joanie asked.

"Right." The detective said. "Y'all ought to be more careful. Food here's good, but they don't really clean the tables very well. Might get all this stuff sticky."

"Oh, right!" Virgil exclaimed. He started shoveling the stolen goods away immediately. "Thanks for the advice."

Detective Sobol watched Virgil, shaking his head sadly. Then he turned his attention to Joanie. "When are you going to stop this?" he asked.

Joanie cocked her head and just looked at him with a dull, blank expression.

"Can't you see it's over?" the Detective continued. "The time for this type of nonsense has come and gone. There's no more room for the common crook in today's society. You either have to be a brutal, remorseless killer or a highly sophisticated criminal to get noticed. These little grifts of yours? I hate to tell you this, but they're passé."

Virgil used both hands to cram the items in the bag. He struggled with the zipper, catching it on the edge of an old map. When he forced it, the paper ripped. "Shit," he said, holding up a ruined piece of history.

Detective Sobol motioned towards Virgil with an open hand. "See? This is who you're working with now? What ever happened to Leonard? Stark and Westlake?"

"Hey, those two...." Joanie sat forward, getting upset.

"Yeah, I know," Sobol interrupted. "But then there's Connell and Matheson, too. Hell, even Bradbury left you."

Joanie brought a fist down. Her mouth became a tense, white line and her eyes narrowed. Sobol recognized he'd gone too far. His voice softened. "I'm just saying. You're time has passed."

A waiter came with a basket of chips and two bowls of salsa. Detective Sobol took advantage of the interruption.

"Anyway, I'll leave you to your meal." He set twenty dollars on their table. "On me."

"Whoa, hey," Virgil pushed the money away like it was on fire. His distrust for police ran deep. "No need for that."

Detective Sobol put a hand on Virgil's shoulder and squeezed. He used the other hand to tuck the money into the breast pocket of Virgil's shirt. "I insist," he said. "I voted for Chris Bell."

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