#concrete testing machine name

[orellazalonia]

Comedic Relief

Summary: After overhearing teammates call you the "comic relief" and question your seriousness, you begin to doubt your place on the team despite being a genius in disguise. Bucky finds you spiraling in your lab, reminds you of your brilliance, and confesses how deeply he values and loves you. (Bucky Barnes x chaotic!reader)

Word Count: 1.4k+

A/N: Wanted something angsty. I also debated having them run away temporarily and having Bucky find them first, but I liked how this turned out in the end. Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

You weren’t supposed to hear it.

Honestly, you never meant to. You were crawling through the ceiling vent to test your portable gravity-altering boots as one does and accidentally dropped into the hallway by the training center. You didn’t land gracefully. You bounced. Twice.

No one noticed.

You were about to make a dramatic entrance to demand “scientific respect and perhaps a sandwich” when your name floated through the crack of the door.

“She’s just… not serious,” One of the rookies was saying. “I know she’s smart, obviously, but it’s like, can you trust her in a real op? Last week she got distracted mid-mission because she thought the enemy base’s reactor looked ‘like a sexy espresso machine.’”

You could hear someone chuckle before another added, “Yeah, and she asked Fury if ‘thermonuclear’ was a made-up word.”

You blinked. That was a joke. You knew what thermonuclear meant. You’d accidentally built a thermonuclear coffee machine last year that tried to launch itself into low orbit. They made you name it and put it in a SHIELD containment box.

“Honestly, she’s more of the comic relief, you know?” Another said. “Like, she’s the team mascot. Not really part of the brain or someone you should trust.”

You weren’t sure what part of you tensed first. Maybe it was your jaw, your spine, or your heart. It wasn’t a new feeling. Not really. It was just louder this time. More final. Heavier.

Mascot.

The word stuck to you like wet concrete.

You backed away before you could hear any more of the conversation, suddenly hyperaware of every squeak of your boots and every stupid joke you’d ever made this week. The “avocado bomb” prank on Steve. The trivia challenge you crushed but then celebrated by pronouncing “Columbus” as “Co-LUMB-us.” The marble run you built through the ventilation system that made the whole compound sound like a wind chime when it rained.

God. Was that all they saw?

You didn’t go to dinner. You didn’t reply in the group chat, even when Sam tagged you and asked why Bucky was sulking in the corner muttering “Where is she?” like a pissed-off gargoyle.

You didn’t even remember walking back to the lab. Your feet had carried you here on autopilot to your safe place, your mess, your cathedral of chaos and half-finished thoughts.

You locked the door behind you, not that anyone ever came in uninvited. Not unless Bucky had something to smuggle in for you (usually food or a weapon you weren’t technically cleared to modify). Not unless Tony wanted to gawk at your entropy.

The lab lights flickered on automatically. You winced at the brightness.

You moved like a ghost, almost afraid to touch anything. Your hands hovered above your desk, your workbench, the tower of half-functional prototypes stacked like a junkyard Jenga tower. You didn’t sit. You just stared at the avalanche of yourself. Your weird, brilliant, overwhelming mind spilled out across surfaces. Wires like spaghetti. Notes written in both formulae and doodles. Gel pens next to soldering irons. A circuit board shaped like a cat.

It all looked… childish. Stupid.

What were you even doing?

You finally collapsed into your chair, spinning once, twice, then fast enough that the corners of the room blurred. You kicked off the counter and made a loop around the floor, feet dragging. The motion didn’t help. If anything, it amplified the static in your chest.

Mascot.

You blinked hard, squeezing your temples. “No. No no no. Shut up. We’re not doing this today.”

You spun to your desk. Grabbed a marker. Scrawled something on the board.

atomic weight of hydrogen: 1.00784 u. bananas are a lie. you don’t need potassium that bad. you matter. you matter. you matter.

You stared at it for a long time. Then erased “you matter” so hard the whiteboard squeaked. Your hand kept going long after the words were gone. Until it hurt.

You stood. Paced a little more. Opened a drawer. Slammed it shut. You tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, pacing faster now, muttering in a half joking, half begging, yet all unraveling way. “Who the hell builds a weather balloon to see if birds migrate better with Taylor Swift playing on a speaker? Who sets a toast-loving AI loose in the kitchen and calls it a ‘learning moment’ when it sets off four smoke alarms?”

You knocked into your shelf, and something clattered. You didn’t catch it. You didn’t care.

You backed into your chair and sank again, hands braced on your knees like gravity got heavier just for you. Your eyes burned.

“They’re right,” You said quietly. “I’m a joke. A distraction. They keep me around because it’s easier than telling me to leave.”

Somewhere behind you, the electronic calendar chimed softly:

Reminder: Tell Bucky you love him. (He already knows, but say it anyway.)

Your throat closed up.

You covered your face with both hands and curled forward, trembling. The quiet buzz of your machines felt deafening. You had built this place, crafted it like a cocoon, a temple, a home. Now it felt like a parody of genius.

You didn’t hear the knock at the door. Or the creak as it opened.

But you felt it when Bucky entered, his presence like a storm and a lighthouse all at once. Steady. Warm. Wordless.

He stood there for a moment. Watching. Taking in the wreckage. You hadn’t noticed the tears on your face until he knelt in front of you and reached up, thumb brushing just below your eye. He didn’t say anything right away. He just held you.

You weren’t even sure when your body had folded into his. One moment, you were curled in on yourself, vibrating with self-loathing, and the next, your face was buried in the crook of his neck and his arms were wrapped around you like armor. Like he could physically keep the world out if he just held on tight enough.

You gripped the front of his henley like it was the only solid thing left. It smelled like coffee and the soap he never admitted to stealing from Steve.

“I thought you were joking when you said you could feel my breakdowns in your soul,” You whispered, voice raw.

“I can,” He murmured against your hair. “Like a bat signal but sadder.”

You let out a broken sound, half sob, half laugh.

His metal hand rubbed slow, careful circles on your back; warm from the adaptive heat plates he let you install. The other hand cradled your head like you were fragile, which only made the cracks inside you widen. He never looked at you like you were fragile. Not until now.

“They think I’m a joke,” You mumbled into his chest. “They think I’m just the team jester with a few fun facts and a death wish.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“They’re not wrong.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, not with pity, but with fire.

“You built a quantum drive in a toaster oven,” He said firmly. “You hacked an alien translator using a flashlight and a Etch A Sketch. You—” He huffed, voice breaking. “You are the only reason half this team is alive.”

You stared at him, voice stuck in your throat.

“But I make everything a joke.”

“Because that’s how you survive,” He said softly. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be underestimated because people are more comfortable laughing at you than respecting you?”

You looked down. “I just… if I stop being funny, I’m afraid they’ll stop wanting me around.”

Bucky reached up, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking beneath your eye.

“If they can’t handle all of you, not just the jokes and chaos and weird trivia, then they don’t deserve you. But I can.” His voice was low, steady. “I love you. All of you. The ridiculous, the brilliant, the heartbreaking mess of you. You could set the tower on fire trying to build a better microwave and I’d still think you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

You blinked fast, and a soft smile tugged at your lips. “That was one time.”

“Twice,” He corrected. “And the second time, you swore it was intentional to teach Tony humility.”

You let out a breathless laugh, and he smiled. That sweet, rare smile he only ever gave you like you were something secret and sacred.

“C’mere,” He said, pulling you in again, tighter this time.

You curled into his lap and let yourself stay there, finally still, finally quiet. His hands never stopped moving, thumb tracing your spine, fingers gently combing through your hair, grounding you with every touch.

And in that moment, you didn’t feel like a mascot or a distraction.

You felt like someone loved and seen.

[nullicaput]

skinner and the rat. XII

Pairing: Han Su-Gang x Reader

Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Obsession, Teacher-Student Relationship, Power Imbalance, Reverse Power Imbalance, Age Difference, Dark, Su-gang being deranged as hell

Summary: Familiar faces and familiar violence—you thought after almost ten years, the kid you left would never remember you, but you were wrong.

Word count: 1908

previous chapter.

Today marked the last day of the first quarter, and today was midterms. 

In Moo Young High, every class of the each year level takes the same subject simultaneously to reduce the risk of passing information about the scope with the other class, and right now was the time of your subject.

Scrapped answer sheets pile after one another. The smell of ink floated in the air. The rooms were silent, except when the students flip through their test booklets. Some of them have given up with answering, but a lot of the examination takers were risking their all to guess the right answer for enumeration and identification portions. With the pointing system of three points for each correct answers, one point for mistakes, and deduction of one point for every item that was left blank, it was obvious that guessing is their best technique. However, even if they were to guess all of the items, if they all get them wrong, they would still not pass. 

"Pass the first part of the exam," the homeroom teacher announced.

As the students relayed their test booklets and answer sheets slipped inside, dread has enveloped their young brains.

"She didn't use the usual Ethics exam, didn't she?" a student whispered. 

"Yeah. This was all hers."

"Quiet down," their teacher said. "Bring out your notes. The second part of your exam is essay-making." 

With that, their souls just died the second time.

No matter how many times they searched for the answers, nothing in their notes gave them something that could help. Time ticked by, and the second part was done. They did not know whether to be dejected that they did not finish their exams properly, or just be glad it was finally over. 

"I thought I'd die," a student grumbled. "It was so hard."

Inside the teachers' lounge, your colleagues laughed as they put their things in their bags, preparing to leave. The students have went home already, and only the staff were at school at this time. 

"My class was complaining that was your test was so difficult," the History teacher joked. 

"Mine, too."

"You're a beast, Teacher [Name]," the Mathematics teacher said, shooting you a look of mischief.

You smiled at their teasing, but you kept yourself quiet. Just when you were about to leave to get to the vending machine located at the ground floor of this building, you were stopped by Jae-Kyeong. 

"Ah, by the way. About Su-Gang's grades."

Her voice was as soft as it usually was, but it somehow made the other teachers shut their mouths. 

"What about it?" 

You glanced at your coworkers, and you could see the discomfort in their body language.

"Don't give him failing grades, and you'll be safe from his mother's anger," she advised. 

"Mother?" you asked, even though you knew who she is. "Su-Gang's mom?" 

"Yeah, the dragon," someone added. "You're allowed to fail his friends, but not him."

Ah, so they were not included in his immunity.

How funny.

"I know how terrible you must've been feeling ever since you've been his target, but if she were to know that her baby failed...well," the first-eyar English teacher said. 

They were obviously ignorant of the mother-son dynamics of the pair. They did not know that it was him who controls his mother, and not the other way around.

Still, it was better not to make her aware of you. 

"Understood."

After that, they returned to their chatter. 

Not wanting to walk farther, you used the metal staircase at the right side of the building instead of the concrete one, which was located at the left. Just before you were about to reach the ground floor, you heard a fizzy sound, and—

You felt something extremely cold coming from the top of your head. 

A series of childish cheering erupted over you, and you would be an idiot if you have not figure the sorry-excuse-for-students who did this to you. You currently smelled of grape soda, and if things are not bad to begin with, it was the brand of drink that notoriously attracts fruit flies. This was this tenth attempt, and it seemed that they are running out of already uncreative ideas. 

As the artificially flavored sweet drink dripped from your hair, you stood there motionlessly. You found yourself in a situation you have grown too accustomed to. The only difference was it was you who was being targeted and not the one watching anymore.

"Teach! You're drenched!

"Why did you stand in the way?"

"Look at you, Miss Temp."

"Ew, sticky!"

"Are you gonna cry?"

You tilted your head to stare at their leader, who was likely there with them again—and he was.

He was staring you down, with his face full of that sadistic thirst to do bad things to those who have not done anything objectively wrong to him. He bit his lower lip and glanced side to side. He was telling you something that he could not be bothered to let them know. 

Oh. 

So, that was how it is.

You can do something about them. You can give them corporal punishment, you can shame them publicly, you can sabotage them—you can even fuck their grades up if you so desire—but they could never attack you or pick on you without Su-Gang's approval. Their mindless puppets constantly moving to follow his words, and yet, they are not even considered your—a temporary teacher—level that they could hurt you as they please. 

In a way, you pity them. 

"Hey, you five, piss off," Su-Gang commanded them, which they did obediently.

They left without any word, but you knew they were interested as to why he never bullied you with them. It was not just them who have picked that up. 

You have noticed yourself that whenever Su-Gang was terrorizing you, he never let his group come with him for long. 

No cameras in sight, not even a voice recorder. 

It was as if the thought of letting someone else see your irritated expression—and the mere thought itself of sharing you—was a taboo. Perhaps he thinks that what he has with you was sacred that he never wanted anyone to be involved. Perhaps this was the reason why he has yet to tell his mother about you despite you having been teaching here for more than two whole months now. 

Well, even when he was a child, he has always disliked—despised—sharing. You knew that very well, but you simply never thought that the sentiment would extend to his mother. 

"Where's your boyfriend?" he jeered. "No hero to save you now?" 

He descended from the stairs and stalked closer. With an unhurried pace, he become nearer and nearer, his face never absent of that derision. 

"Here, have this."

When you checked the name of the bag, you figured that what he was offering you was a change of clothes.

"I don't take bribes," you replied. 

"Bribes?" he scoffed. "These rags are not bribes, teach."

He wiped the soda that trickled onto your face with his thumb and licked it. 

"If I really wanna bribe you, I'd give you bags, shoes, a room in my house." He grinned. "So, these are not bribes, 'kay? But again, can't expect a beggar to distinguish the two." 

If ignoring him does not make him bend to your will, then you would use something else to hurt his substanceless ego. 

"This is getting old," you complained. 

"Huh? What'd ya say?" 

"I said, this is getting old." You pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head. "Was I the only one to notice? Was your brain so simple that you're easily entertained by useless mental stimulation like this?"

He was shocked to hear you talk like that. 

In the past, you have never been the type to harshly reprimand him with words, so it never occurred to him that you were actually capable of insulting him. 

You held yourself back from chuckling, but no amount of pursing your lips could ever hide the way your lips shook in amusement. 

"There is something—no, one specific thing—that you want from me but can't have," you said. 

It was your attention, if not you wholly. 

He was a child who has never been told no growing up, and he has grown to a young adult who never had anything he could never get. Being a kid, his tantrums gave him all the things he desired, and in the present, his violence still grant him everything. A child raised to almost be viewed and treated like a porcelain doll, if not a god, would believe that his words were absolute and can never be opposed, yet there you were, existing for yourself and no longer for him. 

It irked him to no end; you were sure of it.

"This is why you're acting this way, no?" 

"What kinda bullshit are you up to now?" he shouted. 

"You keep misbehaving as if you're a little kid, but you expect to be rewarded for it." You mimicked the way he smile and speak whenever he taunted you verbally. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Children who were sent to school without being properly disciplined by their own parents became a problem later on. The teachers have no other choice but to accept their misconduct, because any kind of punishment can be deemed as inappropriate by the same parents who leave the parenting to educators instead of doing their part—their responsibility. 

However, Su-Gang was no normal child, was he? 

He said it himself: He was an adult. 

Adults should never be pampered. If they could not understand directions, drill the information into their brain using the language they were well used to.

"Your unpleasant attitude won't get you anywhere, Su-Gang." You chuckled, your words borderline mocking. "Why is it not clicking? Were the nine years of my absence really managed to turn you into this much of a moron?"

There, you admitted that his tutor was you. 

That, however, was not the part that caught his attention. 

"Moron? Me?"

Without letting you say the one word starting with the letter y and ends with s, he grabbed you by the collar—predictable—and dragged you within skin-to-skin proximity. He exhaled shakily, causing your nose to smell that faint fragrance of vape. You let out a laughter too entertained he almost mistook you for someone else—or, maybe this was who you truly were. 

"You shouldn't touch rags, Su-Gang," you cooed. "You'll be tainted."

For the first time, you touched his hands on purpose. Your action was full intent of riling him up more. You used your fingers to pry his own from gripping the collar of your drink-soaked blouse.

"You want me to teach you a lesson?"

"Lesson? What are you going to do? Fire me? Push me down the stairs? Shove cigarettes into my mouth?" Your smile widened, mirroring his prior expression. "Stab me with a fork?"

Back then, he listened to only you, and even his mother was unable to put him in his place. As you grew older with him, you learned the words to keep him motivated and the ones to keep him in check. A child who used to live for your validation—you wondered how he would react the moment you verbally express your displeasure at his actions. 

"You disappoint me," you remarked, that grin leaving your face. "Little Su-Gang."

next chapter.

tag section.

@nickibunny23 @ghostedhymn @ashayein @yinyangcchii @ruruyiin @mirwors @crazyhead333 @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @san-axa0 @4ria790 @nijru @iiwsmr @littlebignoona @hisokaupbitch3525 @tevejola

[backwardshatnick]

𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗍

in which matt is a man with a mission but horrible baiting techniques.

pairing: call centre representative!matt x customer!reader wc: 1.3k notes: matt finally makes an insta story post :> i cringed so hard writing this, it's not even secondhand embarrassment, but a firsthand because i just wanna put my hand first into a tank of piranhas. [divider credits to: @strangergraphics]

Matt has been pacing around the café’s parking lot for 6 minutes straight, launching his phone in the air and catching it— though failing a couple of times, resulting in a few more cracks being formed at the corners. He could be seen mumbling, his mouth moving and lip being chewed a couple of times, as if rehearsing something in his head but never seeming to be satisfied.

You were inside the coffee shop, focused on stacking croissants and red velvet muffins with unnecessary intensity while your best friend was lounging by the espresso machine, meticulously filling it with the new Colombian coffee beans.

“Did you see the last minute e-mail from our TA this morning? He is really testing my pa—”

She got cut off. The bell on the glass door had jingled as a pair of uggs walked up to a counter.

“Hey. Um- hi again,” Matt greeted, all shy. He looked a bit different today and seemed to look a lot more put together. Stubble not found, white hoodie replaced with a light blue striped dress shirt with a white top underneath, but with his carabiner clip around the belt loop of his matching brown trousers.

You looked up from the display case and headed towards the counter, “Oh, Matt, hi. Back for another passionfruit lemonade?”

Damn it, he wasn’t even here the past four days yet you remembered not only his name, but what he had ordered the last time he came. You tried to retain your composure, hoping the tinge of pink on your cheeks only indicated the heat that somehow travelled from the fresh pastries.

“Yeah, well, I had a feeling that the Wi-Fi here would crash again,” Matt replied nonchalantly with a sneer, though he was cringing and mentally hitting his forehead on an imaginary concrete wall, “You know, for the nostalgia.”

Your strawberry blonde best friend snorted in the background while you cleared your throat at his answer.

“I’m afraid you’ll just have the day off, Matt. No tech-related emergencies today at the Coffybara. Just overpriced muffins…” your voice smooth and answer prompt.

You could see that Matt’s teasing smirk had faltered, the sparks of exhilaration that he had kept deep within his electric blue eyes now fizzling away. This was not the reaction that he had expected.

Similarly, he cleared his throat too, “Right. Yeah. Okay, that’s totally cool,” he paused, “You ever called like… customer support? For tech stuff?”

Fuck, this is causing me pain, he thought.

Matt was met with repeated blinks from you, the bafflement obvious when you answered him with a breathy “What?”

“Like, have you ever called those customer call centre hotlines where someone walks you through turning the router off and on?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, right. Totally, pshhh,” he scoffed, hoping that that would somehow make light of the absolute hot water that he was in, “I mean, me neither.”

When he was not met with a response but with yet another quizzical gaze, your head now tilting with eyebrows scrunched, Matt just had to layer more onto the uneasiness when he added, “I do know a guy though. Goes by Bernard. Kind of a legend, not gonna lie.”

“That’s a weird thing to bring up,” you finally spoke, “If we have another Wi-Fi problem and you somehow can’t make it, hopefully this 'Bernard' can come and help.”

Matt was spiralling now, brain working overtime to remember his Communications Psychology module that was two semesters ago, charm and wit on the tip of his tongue as he failed to relay the Bernard's communication skills.

“Yeah, I guess I- you kind of… I don’t know. Maybe sound like someone that he has helped?”

You knew deep down that this guy is baiting, but you were not to give in this easily. Not too early into this stage. Not when his fishing rod is broken and bait nowhere to be found. And so, with immense self-respect you tried defending yourself.

“So what you’re saying is that I sound inept when it comes to fixing my own internet?”

He stunned in silence, “...Maybe?”

That was it. That was the last straw and Matt looked at you as if he not only wanted to run into a concrete wall, but to seal himself in it for eternity. You stared at him for a second longer then turned away, returning to your tray of pastries at the display case.

“You know the muffins are still warm. Care for one?”

He gave you a nod and quickly paid for it once you gave him the red velvet muffin now bagged in a white paper bag. Reaching for a copious amount of serviettes and toothpicks nearby, Matt was still insistent.

Trying for one last time he said, “You really do sound familiar, though. Just saying.”

“Must be the voice of all people who hate slow connection,” you bitterly replied without looking at him as he left the coffee shop, bell on the glass door rattling which signalled his exit.

Thanks to the two-way glass, Matt was invisible, already in his car repeatedly striking his head on the steering wheel until he finally stopped when he had accidentally honked the car horn by mistake which scared a group of exercising elderlies nearby.

He drove away to a different branch of the café, buying yet another passionfruit lemonade to not only wash down the unnecessary sweet pastry, but as a moral and consoling drink to let the embarrassment lingering in his dry throat disappear. Now seated on a bench outside with no one to talk to, he finally reinstalled his Instagram and posted an update.

And that was $12 down the drain, alongside his image and pride.

You and your best friend were now on your way back to the dormitories, which was conveniently just a 7-minute walk. The rustle of leaves accompanied your stroll, both too tired to break the silence after the draining 6-hour shift.

“Okay,” your best friend finally cracked, “do you want to talk about how you just made that guy question his entire identity or are we just going to move on like nothing just happened?”

“I didn’t say anything mean.”

She can’t help it but to let out a loud cackle, “Sure, but your vibe, miss girl, your vibe was totally screaming ‘you-have-the-wrong-person-and-are-also-an-idiot.’ What has he ever done to you?”

“He was being weird,” you quietly answered.

“He was trying to flirt. Desperately. But you just had to do whatever it was that you did this morning.”

You stopped in your tracks, staring into the distance as you thought of your own internal monologue, “I panicked, okay?”

“I could tell,” she answered, “You literally didn’t even blink the moment he mentioned Bernard.”

“I mean, I wanted to blink. My whole soul was blinking,” you continued and quietly followed it up, “I just think that was the Bernard himself.”

“Oh my god—”

You clamped your best friend’s mouth shut by with your palm, now looking like a kidnapping situation, “I swear if you fucking shout again I’m gonna replace your body lotion with mayo.”

She now started whisper-shouting.

“I knew it! You’ve been acting like a cat on heat ever since that tiny man had a meltdown over our Wi-Fi. Were you even telling me everything?”

You threw your arms up in the air, “I was embarrassed, okay? I didn’t even tell you the whole details before the survey text. I sorta flirted back, talking about Mr. Winston and wanting to thank him during our grad speech. Like some tragic rom-com female lead! And now the universe is against me with him just out there trying to confirm if it was me and I just—”

“Decided to gaslight him into thinking it was me instead,” your best friend interrupted and started clapping slowly. “Got it. Iconic shit, honestly.”

“I didn’t mean to. I froze because he was right there! In the flesh! With that smooth Bernard voice and stupid little grin on his stupid cute face… He even remembered the nickname.”

“Einstein?” she blurted out.

You winced and shuddered, not because of the cold, but because of the realisation finally hitting you on just how much you hated yourself for finding it hot when he said it.

“So what now? We continue the Instagram hunt?”

“Absolutely not. I will take this to my grave, all inertia and stagnant.”

She was now side-eyeing you, face painted with doubt and sneered, “You’re so gonna cave in. He’ll stop by again and this so-called inertia that you have will be long gone.”

📤 @mattsgracie @vanillaspacecamp @httpssturns @oopsiedaisydeer @vanteguccir @slvtf0rchr1s

[marvelwitchergilmore]

No Longer Alone

Summary: Logan Howlett x Fe!Reader -> Logan shows up for you even when you think you don't need him.

Disclaimer: Lot of angst, reader has painful flashbacks and finds out about her hidden past. Mentions of torture and being experimented on. Happy ending of sorts. Logan shows up for the reader -- kind of more on a platonic level but could be interpreted as more. Not Proof Read.

You’d been standing in melting snow for fifteen minutes. 

Wrapped up warm from a tank, long sleeve top, zipper hoodie, leather jacket, jeans, thermal socks and boots, the snow and the cold air wasn’t making its way into your skin. But there was still a chill. 

All around you it was as if no time had passed at all. The door had rusted a little with time, but its green colour still remained. Weeds still sprung up around the edge of the grass patches outside. The netting around the grounds couldn’t be used anymore, but they were still there. 

Your nose was already turning red from the cold air, and the tips of your fingers were starting to feel the chill, but it still didn’t equal anything you were feeling inside. 

You sniffed and took a few steps back, looking at the same concrete blocks you’d looked at for almost two years. Then you looked up and took a breath. 

You could still hear the noises, see the lab coats running around, hear the whirring of machines and the screams of all those who were tested before you, and after you. 

Yet you survived. 

“Are you going in, or did you just plan to stand out in the cold all day?”

Your head whipped to the right and you were met with Logan walking towards you. You hadn’t even heard him before he spoke. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking around before looking back at him. 

“Freezing my ass off.” He answered. “Relax, no one else is here. It’s just me. So, this is it then?”

He took a look over the building in front of you as he stood beside you. You didn’t know what to say but your emotions landed on annoyed. A stall halt in your breathing forced you to look away from him and back at the building. 

“Yeah, this is it,” you said. “How did you-”

“Rogue. She saw you leave this morning.” Logan told you honestly. 

“Oh.”

Logan stayed with you in the short silence that followed. 

“Why are you here, Logan?”

He could lie, he could be sarcastic. But he opted for the truth. 

“I’ve done this once before, on my own,” he said. “I figured I wouldn’t let you go through the same thing. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

You knew that was true, but despite being alive for decades, you still hadn’t come to fully accept the concept for yourself. You were there for everyone else; they just couldn’t be there for you. 

“I don’t know what’s gonna be in there, or how it’s going to affect me,” you warned him. 

In recent months, your persistent headaches have been getting more vicious. From the odd dull ache behind one of your eyes, to full blow migraines that would make you want to sleep for months, if you could even get to sleep. All the while small noises and pictures would flash across your mind. 

On the rare occasion you did get some sleep, you’d wake because of a nightmare. Well, that you had thought was a nightmare until two weeks ago when it became clear your nightmares were actually memories. 

It happened in your classroom. 

One minute you were teaching your kids about the history of the British Empire when all of a sudden the attack happened faster than you could comprehend. It sent you to the floor and a second later Rogue had gone to find a teacher. She had found Logan and Storm in the hallway. 

Your grip on the leg of your blackboard was turning your knuckles white from how fiercely you were holding on, all in the hopes you wouldn’t scream out in pain. 

“Storm, get them out of here.”

She started ushering concerned and scared kids out of the classroom as Logan ran over to you and knelt on the floor beside you. He was calling your name but it was almost as if you couldn’t hear him. 

The whirring and bubbling and crashing noises ringing in your ears were too loud, then the screaming started. Before you knew it, pictures joined the noises. An abandoned army base, subjects locked in clear box rooms, each one getting sicker than the last. 

Then it was your turn. 

Eventually, Logan’s voice broke through and you managed to push past the pain and open your eyes in order to remind yourself where you were. The noise drowned away and so did the images of people in lab coats in your classroom. 

Then all you saw was Logan. 

“Hey,” Logan said to you as his arms came around you, pushing the hair from your face so he could see your eyes clearly. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I-I don’t know.”

Logan looked over his shoulder. “Rogue, run and tell Jean to go to her lab.”

“What about Y/n?”

“I’ll take care of her, just go.”

The young girl nodded and ran directly out of the room, shouting behind her to Storm about what she was doing. As Storm came back into the classroom she was met with Logan lifting you from the ground as you stood weakly. 

It was two days of tests and talks with the Professor before being given time away from teaching – Logan offered to cover your lessons – and having more conversations which led to a reading from the Professor and another attack that provided you with more information to piece together. 

Then, one evening, smaller, less intense memories came flooding back giving you the full picture. 

Still standing beside you, Logan just gave you a reassuring smile. “I’ve lived for a long time. I don’t think there is anything that can happen that I won’t be able to deal with.”

You had to look away from him as your mind had a war with itself. You wanted to do it alone; you felt you had to. You’d been alive for a long time, too, and for most of it, you’d been alone. You’d faced a lot of fears alone, so why couldn’t you face this one alone, too? 

But the other part of you wanted to grip onto Logan’s hand for dear life and let him join you so, for once in your life, you didn’t have to be alone when facing something. Even if he didn’t know what would happen by the time you both walked back outside, you wouldn’t be the only one carrying that information. 

Looking at the door, you took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to force away the tears long enough to be able to see everything clearly. 

Then you took a step forward, and another, and another. 

From behind you, Logan smiled softly before following behind you as you walked towards the doors and reached for the handle. With your second hand over the middle of the doors where they met, you both heard a small click before you pulled at the door handle and the door creaked open and scraped against the ground a little. 

Inside was damp and cold, water dripping from the pipes that were running above your heads. You looked around before finding the mains switch and lifting up the lever. All the lights came on and whatever machinery was inside the building came to life for the first time in, probably, fifty years or more. 

You looked at Logan for reassurance and he nodded. He couldn’t hear anything, or rather, anyone that you couldn’t. You continued walking down the hallway, everything slowly becoming more and more familiar. 

On the ground, both yours and Logan’s boots either clicked against the drying concrete or splashed in the small piles of water that were gathering. 

“Recognise anything?”

“Too much.” Your voice was quiet, if a little hard. You continued to look around, more and more memories flooding through your mind. Then you powered through a set of doors, Logan jogging a little to catch up to you. 

“Where are you going?”

You turned down a few more corridors. Logan called out your name but it fell of deaf ears and you made it through a final set of metal doors. 

The lights came on inside but he couldn’t see anything but your silhouette.

“Where are you-” 

As Logan stopped by your side, he looked around. Two sides of the hallway, boxes no bigger than single prison cells lined the walls. Slowly you started to walk down it and the further you and Logan got, the more lights flicked on with the motion. 

The hallway seemed to just get longer and longer, and it just kept going, but you stopped a little over halfway down. 

Logan seemed to spin on his feet. “How many are even-”

“Three hundred and sixty. One eighty on each side, one research subject in each. Some men, some women. Some were just kids. All were those without family. Nobody misses or mourns them if something happens. No one asked questions about them when they went out one morning to pick up a loaf of bread or some eggs.”

Then you said something that sent the dagger in Logan’s heart ripping straight down with a blunt edge. 

“This one was mine.”

You could still feel what it was like; cowering and shivering in the corner, begging for death. All you wanted was for the pain in your veins to stop. Eventually you blacked out and woke back up strapped to a cold metal table because you were like five others. You’d survived the first night. 

The tests continued like that for weeks until one morning you woke up in a bed. It was lumpy and hard but it was better than the cold metal table. 

Until you collapsed in the Professor’s office ten days after your first attack in the classroom, you’d had no idea what had happened before you woke up in a stuffy motel room confused and in pain. 

From the stuffy motel room, you’d kept the knowledge of your sudden powers under wraps and signed up to help fill in the numbers at the motel owner’s club. The woman that ran it was a doctor at the hospital and they were looking for more nurses. Since you didn’t know anything other than your name, you signed up and found yourself a natural. 

From that moment on you built a life into one that you recognised. Eventually, your life from ‘before’ became nothing but a passing thought. Nobody had come looking for you, so maybe it wasn’t important to know what happened before. 

Eventually you were found in a hospital in New York by a man in a wheelchair complaining of a chesty cough. Then he told you the real reason he’d come to find you. 

Eventually you moved away from the clear box and walked back down the hallway towards the doors and started going in and out of each different room. Some of them you explained to Logan, others he could recognise himself.

Then, as you stood at the side of the metal table, you touched the surface and talked to Logan. 

“Why was I the only one to survive?”

Logan turned around from the file littered desk and looked at you. “How do you know you’re the only one?”

“Because I remember.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “They were running me through more testing when they got word someone had found out what they were doing. They piled everyone into ex-service trucks. Between the screams…I happened.”

“You?”

“The tests they were running…it caused me more pain than they’d been expecting so I’d…I don’t know what I did, but I know it wasn’t good because when I woke up more places were being burned down.” You closed your eyes as tight as you could before continuing on. “I turned on the sprinklers before I left. I knew they were dealt with manually because one of the lab techs had been complaining about if something went wrong, what would happen. By the time I got outside everyone was gone. They either died of pain or in fear. Probably both.”

“That’s not your fault.”

The tears were falling from your closed eyes. “No, I know. I know, just…”

Logan came to your side and laid a hand on your shoulder. “Y/n, look at me.”

You didn’t.

“Please.”

After a while, you did. 

“What happened here is not your fault.” Logan told you. “They used and tortured you. And they did the same to countless others. None of that is your fault.”

“Why was I the only one to survive?” 

As you repeated your question, you stepped back and walked away from Logan. He remained still, watching as you paced around the room. 

“Why? Out of everyone, out of every single person they ran tests on, why was I the only one it worked on? Why was I the only one to survive? I know there’s survivor's guilt, but it’s a genuine question. Why? Why was I the only one to survive?”

“Because you already had a mutation.”

You stopped pacing and looked at Logan. “What?”

Logan didn’t bother explaining. All he did was walk over to where he’d been standing previously before he flicked open one of the files. There were nearly thirty pages worth of drug tests being done. 

“Do you remember these?” Logan held up a faded prescription bottle with small blue and black capsules. 

You flicked through the file yourself. “Yeah, they were given to some of us twice a day.”

“They’re suppressors.” 

The further you got in the file, the more you understood. 

“You had a mutation and they couldn’t risk it coming through at full force whilst they ran whatever sick tests they already wanted to run.”

Logan was right. 

There was a list of patients with different mutation abilities. Some labelled premature, others labelled late. But all were placed on the blue and black pill. Suppressing the mutation ability allowed for the lab coats to check if forcing a new mutation through could work. 

You didn’t know what to say, so Logan made a decision for you. 

“We should collect what we can and take it back to the Professor. And lock this place back up before some asshole decides that this place was a good idea.”

You took a breath and wiped away your tears. “You’re right.”

Whatever wasn’t burned or completely destroyed you either took back with you or took pictures. 

By the time you’d gathered what you could from the two smaller offices, you waited for Logan at the top of the stairs that overlooked where you’d both previously stood. 

After all those years wondering, after all the pain and fear and terror. After all those years of being alone, you finally had answered to what was before. In truth, you didn’t know if it helped. You could only hope that by walking inside, by having a confirmation to all the memories you’d been burdened with, the pain of not knowing would be gone. 

The pain from your head was gone. Even if it was replaced by a pain that came from the smell of the damp and the singe of ashes. 

“Ready to go?”

You took one final look around before looking back at Logan. “Ready?”

You led the way out before shutting out the lights and welding the lock back into place. 

It was odd, the feeling you got as you walked back into the cold and away from the bunker. You had a burning curiosity growing in your stomach and mind, but the coldness you’d felt before you’d walked inside, unsure of what to expect was slowly disappearing. 

You also knew the life you’d led. Only now you’d learned of a life you’d had before you made one of your own. No lab tech could take the life you made for yourself away from you. 

You and Logan pulled up at the school long after the sun had set. As you stepped out of your car, Logan switched the engine of his bike off and you rushed down the hallway where you found one light on at the end of the hallway. 

“Professor?”

He looked up with a smile. “Ah, you’re back. I must tell you, you’ve missed dinner but Hank has left two plates in the oven for you. All they need is warming up. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Looking away from Logan, you looked at the Professor. “And then some.”

As the hours passed, you’d come to an agreement with the Professor. Storm and Nightcrawler would go back to the base you’d been kept at. Perhaps they might find something that let them know there were other survivors. But other than that, your past would remain just that. The past. 

“I made a life for myself. The only one I’ve truly known. I’d like for it to stay that way. If I want more answers one day, I know where to go.”

The Professor agreed. “I’ll keep these files safe. I assume you’ve looked through them already?”

You nodded. “There’s a lot I’d rather not have remembered, but I got my closure.”

“Very well.”

Twenty minutes later, you and Logan were sitting down in the dim light of the kitchen eating your dinner. 

“Thank you for finding me today.” It felt a little awkward leaving your mouth in your voice. “And you’re right…about not having to be alone, so…thank you.”

Logan just graced you with a smile and a nod. “I meant it. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

You didn’t know what to say so you just nodded and went back to eating. You and Logan remained in silence as you ate, washed and put away your plates. And as you both walked up towards your rooms, you took in the pictures that lined the walls. 

Previous students, past christmases, birthdays, sunday dinners. A plethora of memories scattered across the walls; all of which made you smile. 

All of which made you realise you might have done things alone for a long time, but you’d never truly been alone. Not only did you have friends, but you had an entire family behind you. 

One that would never leave you to be lonely, even when you wanted to be alone. 

[miniwheat77]

Machine. (König x Reader.)

!König is held captive, kidnapping, violence, mentions of test subjects, blood, gore, you’ve been warned, mentions of SA, proceed with caution!

It’s pitch black out. You’re the only one left out of a group of 5.

You retreated outside when the massacre started and you realized this was far larger than you thought it was going to be.

“We have intel that this group of terrorists kidnapped a Soldier from a military base in Germany. He was stationed there when they were ambushed and he was taken. They haven’t been able to track him until now, but we’ve gotten intel that he’s there. He goes by König.”

Your Captain’s words echo in your head. You were already so close. There was no going back now.

You take a deep breath. Trying to steady your racing heart. If he’s in there, and he’s alive. He can help you. It hard to force yourself to run into danger. You want to slow your heart but the fear of dying alongside your brothers sits like a weight on your chest. They shouldn’t have died like this. You needed to finish this for them.

You rest your hand on your chest. Taking a deep breath. You swallow hard, your collarbones aching because of how hard you’re breathing. You straighten yourself out, following along bushes and old outbuildings to keep yourself concealed. Picking off soldiers one by one. Once you’re sure the outside is clear, you’re onto the inside.

Your shoes pat against the cracked concrete outside. Crouched down and hugging the side of the building to hide away. You’re terrified but you have to do this. You push open the door, noticing a couple lone soldiers, taking them out with ease and moving in further. It’s dark inside. You find a couple of your men, no longer alive. They’re laid on the ground. Pools of blood surrounding them. You settle down for a second. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest and you know you have to calm down before you keep going. You grit your teeth. You sit up straight, pushing yourself further and further into the building. You come upon a door with a sign that says ‘Cell Block B.’

You push it open, stepping inside. Unsure if this is where you’ll find the missing soldier. You creep down the hallway, prison cells lining the walls. Some empty, some occupying dead prisoners. You keep forcing yourself to take in deep breaths. Just keep calm. You come to a cell at the end, and notice a man shackled to the wall. He’s got little to no room, and you can clearly see why. He’s massive.

“Hey.” You crouch down, gathering his attention. He turns to look at you. “What’s your name?” You ask. You’re whispering.

“König.” He breathes. You sigh, relief flooding through you.

“König.” You tilt your head, repeating his name. “I’m Sergeant Y/N Y/L/N. I’m stationed on a military base not far from this place, I’m here to get you out.” You start looking around for a key. König sits up. His eyes shine in the darkness and you can’t help but see a hood over his face. “The Captain keeps the keys in his office.” He nods. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” You breathe, continuing your way down the hallway, you see an office at the end of the corridor. There’s a man inside but he appears to be asleep. Luckily you have a silencer. You crack open the door, moving up behind him. You grasp a hold of him, firing into his skull and lowering him down to the ground quietly, tugging the keys off of his waistband. You freeze when you hear footsteps coming your way.

You huddle up against the wall, when the door opens you clench your eyes closed for a second. “What the hell?”

You lunge forward, tackling the man onto the ground, lining your gun up and fighting him, firing into his chest two times. Taking a deep breath. These soldiers were fucking endless.

You hurry back down the hallway, opening up König’s cell door. You step inside and begin unlocking the chains that shackle him to the floor and walls. He rubs his wrists painfully. “Are you well enough to use a gun?” You ask. He nods his head. You tilt your head, walking back into the office. You pass him a handgun and an assault rifle, watching him tuck the pistol into his waistband. Adjusting himself as he holds the rifle close to his chest. “Are there other soldiers?” You ask. He nods his head. “A few, they’re in other cell blocks.” You can’t help but notice his broken English, telling you that English isn’t his first language. You follow him as he makes his way out. “I can go get the other prisoners. We’ll be better off as five rather than two.” He nods. “Okay. I’ll go start clearing out other spaces.” You nod. You split up.

You make your way through more of the dark compound. Heart pounding in your chest. You hope König is well enough to get to those other prisoners without injury.

Just as you relax, you’re hit right in the face with the butt of a rifle. It stuns you, knocking you down. The man moves on top of you immediately and you start to fight back.

He overpowers you, pinning your arms up above your head.

He laughs menacingly.

“My my… look at you.” He grins. You can see it in the dark. “You’re the girl sneaking around killing everyone.” He breathes, inhaling deeply. He lowers himself down, inhaling your scent. You cry out, fighting against him. “Been a long time since I’ve seen a woman. He smirks. You swallow hard, fighting against him even harder. Clearly he did not have intentions to kill you.

He forces both of your hands together, pinning them above you with one hand. Lowering the other to his waistband. You squirm against him, crying out.

“No no no- stop! Get off of me!” You scream. He forces your legs open, moving himself between them. “No need to cry, nobody is going to help you.” He breathes.

You kick at him but he doesn’t budge.

You scream out, trying to force your hands away from him and he starts to unbutton his pants. Just as he’s about to expose himself, someone puts a gun to his head. He freezes up immediately. “Stand up.” The deep accented voice is soothing in your time of need. Once he’s off of you, you’re scrambling away. The other men König had gone to save helping you up from the floor, moving you away from him. “Hey- let’s talk about this.” The man holds his hands up in surrender.

“Brenn in der Hölle.”

A bullet penetrates his skull as König fires the gun. His head is throw back from the force of it. His body hits the ground with a thud and you flinch. “He’s the last one. We cleared out the rest.” Another one of the men says it. You nod your head. You can see now why they had König shackled so much. He’s massive, a killing machine. “I’ll lead you to exfil.” You pick your gun up off of the floor, hurrying out of the room before you get sick.

—

You’re staring ahead, they’ve patched you up the best they can. Your face took a good hit from his gun.

Once you’re good to go, you make your way into another tent. Seeing König is sitting on the edge of a cot. He’s in much worse shape than you. They’ve got him hooked up to a couple of IV’s. You make your way up to him. You can’t help but notice all of the marks on him. They almost look like track marks. “What did they do to you in there?” You ask. “To be honest… not sure.” He breathes. “They would come in and draw my blood. I know they wanted to clone me. But I’m not sure how. Most of the time I was unconscious.” He breathes. You nod your head. “I see why, you’re a good soldier.” You laugh.

He grasps your hand in his. “Thank you. For saving me.” He looks up at you.

“We’re even. You saved me too.” You look down.

“Are you alright, Schatz?” He asks. You nod your head. “I’ll be just fine.” You smile.

You sit down next to him. Ready for the whole story.

[techmomma]

Some more cleaning and mitigation tips, from your friendly front desk at a mitigation company (a part 2 to my first post of general mitigation and cleaning tips):

Anything involving sewage needs to be demolished and taken out. Sorry if you really really love that flooring or you literally just got it put in yesterday. Sewage isn't just YOUR poopwater, it's EVERYONE'S poopwater, it's farm poopwater, it's hospital poopwater, it can harbor MRSA and tuberculosis and staph and parasites and a host of things I don't even wanna THINK about.

That said, if you have a sewage backup or leak, and it's not cleaned up and demolished properly (aka, you have a scumlord owner of the house or someone willfully ignorant), THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR HEALTH. Get the hell out of there. That is dangerous, and at the very least, it will guaranteed be moldy behind any surface.

The above does not count for people who literally cannot afford it, but also understand what is going on if it's not cleaned up properly.

How well something cleans depends entirely on the material. The more porous a material, the worse it will be to clean. For example, if you live in a house that belonged to a smoker for 20 years, how well you will be able to get the smell out will depend on the kind of paint in the walls. Generally, a shiny varnished paint will just need some elbow grease, but a matte paint (more porous) will probably need to just be entirely removed to get the smell out.

Speaking of smoke, smoke from protein-based fires require different cleaning than just regular soot. So, a soot stain from a candle needs to be cleaned differently than if you burned a pot of soup on the stove. The proteins get STICKY. (And yes, proteins come from more things than just meat.)

A lot of cleaning is chemistry. We use specific cleaners for a reason. So for example, going back to nicotine smoke, there's different chemicals that can help get rid of it. But some of those will also eat the paint or could give you ulcers in your lungs. We get trained (to a degree) on how different chemicals will react.

All of which can be further affected by temperature.

Mold on materials like concrete and wood needs to be cleaned, sanded, and then ideally given a coat of some kind of sealant. None of which will necessarily guarantee mold removal because mold is an unknowable and unkillable god, but you can get pretty damn close.

That said, there is always a degree of mold on literally everything. There's just certain molds (and in certain quantities) that our bodies are cool with! And some that they are not. This came with being alive on planet earth.

Smells don't always indicate mold. Nor does water damage. Nor does staining. Sometimes materials just get kind of stinky and discolored after they get wet for a while. (But all of that doesn't mean it's not mold, if you catch what I mean.)

If you suspect mold and want a confirmation/test of what kind of mold it is, you probably want to call a hygienist. Maybe miti companies do mold testing where you live, but here, they gotta be two separate companies (because you gotta take samples and culture them in a sterile environment in a petri dish and use special machines to determine what kinds of molds the sample contains; mitigation companies are basically blue collar cleaners and deconstruction/sometimes reconstruction crews who work in warehouses).

Believe it or not, our guys swear by magic erasers, btw. We don't use that specific brand, but the generic name is melamine foam sponges. You can even use them to get cat hair out of fabric. They're dope as hell for cleaning.

[formulafanfics13]

All Eyes on Me - Chapter 17

Masterlist || Latest Poll

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

The sun was already sharp, slicing over the paddock and bouncing off the polished concrete. The paddock itself felt hollow without the drivers, like the air was missing something, no engines growling, no data teams sprinting around like caffeinated lunatics. Instead, the only ones moving at full speed were the mechanics and logistics staff, dragging crates, cables, and equipment toward the transport trucks, voices low, eyes sunken after their own brutal weekend.

And then the Angels arrived. The sleek black SUV rolled up to the McLaren hospitality entrance like royalty returning to survey their empire.

The door opened and Lila stepped out first, ponytail high, oversized sunglasses covering half her face, gym set like a second skin, completely unreadable if not for the slight limp in her step that only her friends would notice. She'd barely slept. She wasn't sober. She didn't care.

Barbara followed, black leggings hugging her hips, lips glossy, coffee in hand, walking like the night hadn't touched her at all, like sex, vodka and hotel sheets had only sharpened her.

Taylor climbed out next, hair still slightly wavy from last night's sweat, mascara barely reapplied, but her posture straight and her VS crop top locked into place like armor.

Gigi slid out fourth, slower, adjusting her waistband, oversized shades hiding eyes still wide from the comedown. She was sipping electrolytes like it was fine champagne.

And finally, Martha, stepping out like she'd never left this place. Her face glowed under the morning light, glowy skin, flawless lips, glassy but focused eyes behind dark lenses. She moved smoothly. The only hint of last night lived in her fingers, tapping lightly against her phone screen like a quiet tremor she didn't acknowledge.

The girls were already dressed in their VS gym wear: tight, high-waisted leggings and matching crop tops in soft baby pink, with their names stitched into tiny embroidered tags on the waistband. They were ready.

Waiting near the paddock entrance was David, Karen and Julia, all three looking entirely too awake for what the girls were walking through.

David glanced at them over the rim of his sunglasses, expression unreadable. He wasn't going to ask how their night went. He already knew.

"Good morning, my angels," David greeted, voice light but sharp underneath. "Right on time."

Martha offered a small smile, pulling her phone away from her face as she slipped it into her bag. "Like always."

Karen clapped her hands once. "Let's move. Schedule's tight."

Without another word, the girls fell into formation behind her, passing through the paddock walk like a silent unit of hungover, perfect machines. Mechanics glanced up as they passed, pausing for a moment too long before returning to the crates and toolboxes.

No one flinched. No one said a word. No complaints. No drama. Just work.

Inside the main paddock garage-turned-staging area, multiple stations had already been set up. The day's brutal schedule had officially started:

First: Two laps of the track on foot — the models would run it again, keeping their bodies tight, staying on regimen.

Second: Post-run stretching with Karen's brutal physical therapy team, who showed no mercy.

Third: A round of content shooting with the Formula 1 digital team — TikTok crossovers, short form media bites, and team-branded campaign snippets.

Fourth: Fittings with the stylists for Shanghai — dress adjustments, shoe testing, and accessory pairings.

Fifth: Private brand media training with Julia. Precision. Pacing. Voice coaching.

All in one day. No downtime. No excuses.

As they lined up at the starting mark, Karen's sharp voice cut across the cool morning air. "Two laps. No cutting corners. I want full pace today."

Gigi let out a soft breath but didn't speak. Barbara pulled her ponytail tighter. Taylor adjusted her leggings, eyes narrowing on the track ahead like she was about to launch into battle. Lila licked her lips and smiled to herself. "This is foreplay compared to last night."

Martha, dead calm, pulled her sunglasses lower on her nose and let out a single word under her breath.

"Run." And then they were off. Hungover, tired, but perfect.

The sun bounced off the white tarmac like it was trying to blind them, but the girls didn't flinch. They moved as one tight unit, legs slicing through the heat like they belonged there. Five matching pink Victoria's Secret gym sets. Five flawless ponytails. Five demons in motion.

Karen and Julia stood far behind, watching but not interfering.

The paddock was mostly empty apart from a few wandering mechanics, none dared make eye contact. The girls weren't human this morning. They were machines.

Martha led the pace, her breathing controlled, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of her nose with each bounce of her step. She spoke first. "Lila," she said, voice flat but laced with a smirk, "how was your boy last night?"

Lila, jogging two steps behind, laughed breathlessly. "Young. Stupid. Eager. Honestly? A solid seven out of ten. I let him think he was God's gift for two hours. Bless his heart."

Gigi let out a dry chuckle. "That's generous."

Taylor grinned, not breaking pace. "You kept your heels on for the first round, didn't you?"

Lila winked. "Obviously."

Barbara groaned softly. "Mine couldn't last long enough to even discuss. Pretty face though. Great jawline for pulling hair."

"You did look like you'd been in a wind tunnel when you showed up this morning," Gigi added, lips twitching.

Martha's lips curved slightly. "Well, at least you two got off. Me, Taylor, and Gigi just drowned ourselves in champagne and cocaine until 3AM."

Taylor laughed under her breath. "And I'd do it again tonight."

"Oh, we will," Gigi breathed out, eyes still glassy behind her shades. "Shanghai's going to eat us alive."

They hit the first corner, their pace still tight, shoes slapping perfectly against the tarmac.

Barbara asked through steady breaths, "How's Jacob?"

Martha didn't miss a beat. "Texted me the whole fucking night. Wanted pictures, updates, location tags. Same shit."

Lila snorted. "Does he even care you were high as hell?"

"Nope," Martha replied simply. "As long as I'm in a private booth where no one can get near me, he doesn't care what I'm doing."

Taylor hissed under her breath. "That man is a walking red flag."

"That man is my reality," Martha said, the tone chillingly calm.

They kept running. No one slowed. No one stumbled. The heat thickened as they pushed through the first sector again. Sweat began to gather at their temples, but their breathing remained steady, perfectly trained.

"I'm still laughing about last night," Gigi said between exhales. "Taylor admitting she'd let Christian Horner spank her."

Taylor burst into a grin. "He gives 'strict boss who'll buy me a Birkin after punishing me' energy, and you know it."

Barbara shook her head. "I still vote Carlos and Pierre for hottest. Easily."

Lila hummed. "Max is terrifying, but you know he'd break you in half."

"Lando's a baby," Taylor added, "but I'd absolutely let him worship me."

Gigi laughed. "George looks like husband material but would probably cry if you spat on him."

"Charles," Martha said softly, "is too pretty. I'd fuck him just to ruin his life."

That made them all burst into sharp, breathless laughter, their pace quickening as the adrenaline hit with their gossip.

As they reached the final straight of the lap, their legs burned but their rhythm remained locked. Perfect pace. No sloppiness. No excuses. They were drenched in sweat, their high ponytails swinging in unison as they approached the waiting staff at the finish point.

Gigi glanced sideways at Martha, lowering her voice just slightly. "You think the team principals are starting to figure us out?"

Martha smiled without looking at her. "Of course they are."

Taylor laughed under her breath. "Let them."

And as they crossed the finish line, still flawless despite the heat, the group behind the cameras stared,  watching them, studying them, but still not understanding how five hungover girls could perform like this.

The girls weren't breaking. Not yet. The track run was done, but nobody was catching their breath. Not here. Not ever.

Inside the makeshift recovery tent, the air was thick with heat and the sharp scent of eucalyptus oil, pumped through the space like it was meant to cleanse the chaos clinging to their skin. Rows of mats lined the polished floor. Foam rollers. Resistance bands. Stability balls. Brutal minimalism.

Karen stood at the front of the room like a military commander, hands behind her back, clipboard in one palm, mouth fixed in a tight line that somehow always read as both polite and terrifying. She clapped once, sharp. "Let's go, ladies. Into positions."

The girls moved without hesitation, sliding down onto their mats as if they were machines being programmed rather than women running on three hours of sleep, four lines of coke, and several litres of champagne.

Lila pulled her ponytail tighter as she folded into a deep hamstring stretch, grimacing slightly. "I swear my hip flexors are personally offended by last night."

"Then maybe don't wrap your legs around someone like a stripper pole next time," Barbara muttered, bending forward into a flat, perfect stretch without even blinking.

Gigi let out a low groan as she twisted her torso, bones audibly cracking. "No promises."

Taylor was flat on her back, legs up against the wall as Karen counted out breathing cycles. "It's like the hangover is sitting in my shins."

"That's because it is," Karen said without even looking up. "Hydrate. You've got an hour left and if one of you faints, I'm not calling for help."

Martha barely spoke. She was fully locked in, face blank, folding into each stretch with mechanical precision. The beads of sweat sliding down her back glistened under the studio lights, but her expression never shifted. She wasn't present, not really. She was somewhere else, somewhere colder, sharper, focused only on control.

Karen clocked it immediately. That's why she loved Martha. Unbreakable. Even when she should be. After twenty minutes of stretches, Karen moved them seamlessly into resistance drills. There was no pause. No water break. Resistance bands snapped around thighs, foam blocks under palms, pulses into oblivion.

"Keep your knees aligned." "Don't drop your core." "Flex your glutes or I'll add another round."

The burn was immediate. Gigi's breath quickened as she fought through banded squats, the heat rising behind her ribs like fire. Her face was flushed, her pupils still faintly blown from the night before, but she powered through it, sweat beading along her hairline like diamonds.

Taylor cursed under her breath, "My legs are fucking jelly."

Karen shot her a look. "Good. That means you're working."

Lila was biting the inside of her cheek, but her form stayed perfect, her reps smooth and precise. She might've looked delicate, but she was steel wrapped in satin.

Barbara didn't flinch. Ever. Her breathing was steady, her posture robotic, like she lived for this kind of pain.

And then there was Martha. Silent, breathing slowly and controlled, her body moving with terrifying efficiency. She didn't slow, didn't grimace, didn't complain. She didn't feel the fire because she'd already burned herself alive before sunrise.

Karen walked behind them, scanning like a hawk. She stopped for a moment near Martha, studying the way her muscles quivered beneath the surface tension.

"Good girl," Karen said softly, voice low and dangerous, almost like a compliment, but not quite.

Martha didn't respond. Because this was normal. Because this was routine.

Karen barked out the final set: balance board lunges, weighted Russian twists, plank holds with hip dips. "Sixty seconds. No breaks."

The girls locked into place without hesitation. Every muscle screamed now.

Lila's core trembled under the strain, but she grinned through it. "If I die, bury me in my gym set."

"You'd still look good in the casket," Barbara shot back, voice steady.

Gigi let out a strangled noise. "My soul has officially detached from my body."

Martha said nothing.

Taylor, gritting her teeth, glanced sideways. "I hope Christian appreciates how tight my ass looks after this."

That finally cracked Gigi into breathless laughter. Even Lila lost her form for a split second, nearly toppling before catching herself.

Karen, stone-faced, didn't even smirk. "Focus, ladies. You have a campaign to sell."

Karen finally clapped once, sharp and definitive. "Done."

The girls collapsed back onto their mats in synchrony, their chests heaving, arms limp at their sides, skin slick with sweat.

David stepped into the room right on cue, sunglasses on, clapping lightly. "Perfect timing, my angels. Content crew is waiting for you in studio two."

No one groaned. No one argued. They simply stood, adjusted their leggings, fixed their ponytails, wiped their faces, and walked. No complaints. No drama. Just work. Because that's the part no one ever saw. The ugly side of being perfect.

The industrial water pressure hit their skin like a baptism, but none of them flinched. It wasn't luxury. It wasn't supposed to be. It was maintenance. Strip the sweat, strip the mascara streaks, strip the stench of last night's perfume from their pores.

Inside the prep room, five shower stalls lined one side of the wall, steam rising in thick waves, mingling with the sharp scent of eucalyptus and rose body wash.

"You good in there?" Lila's voice called from her stall, water pounding behind her.

"Barely," Gigi muttered, rinsing shampoo from her hair. "My glutes are vibrating."

Taylor let out a breathy laugh, voice echoing in the humid air. "Karen's possessed this week."

Martha, standing under the stream like marble under rain, didn't argue. She was scrubbing methodically, eyes half-lidded, mind drifting somewhere between exhaustion and strategy.

"She's pushing harder than usual," Barbara said from the far end, voice calm but edged. "And that's saying something."

Lila huffed. "I mean... we're used to this. The schedule, the training, the bullshit. But this campaign? It's starting to feel like something else."

"Because it is something else," Gigi replied as she shut off the water and reached for her towel. "F1's not our world. We're not walking a ten-minute runway and calling it a day. This is a full year of surveillance."

Taylor groaned softly. "And if one of us even breathes too heavy, Karen's got her fucking clipboard out."

Barbara's voice stayed quiet. "We've worked high-pressure gigs. We've done worse. But it's never been this controlled."

Martha finally spoke, her voice soft under the hiss of water. "Because we've never had this many men watching before."

That silenced them for a moment. Because she was right. This wasn't about fashion anymore. This was something much bigger. They were no longer just selling lingerie. They were selling control.

The girls stepped out of the showers and slipped into their off-duty uniforms, joggers, leggings, oversized sweatshirts, thin layered tees knotted at their waists.

Still perfect. Still put-together. But looser. Cozier. Their armor for when the cameras weren't supposed to be rolling.

Martha wore a cropped black hoodie, her damp hair braided back into a tight plait, skin still glowing from the shower steam. Lila had oversized joggers sitting dangerously low on her hips, her VS pink bralette peeking under her half-zipped hoodie. Gigi was in grey leggings and a fitted white long-sleeve, her gold hoops back in place because some habits never dropped. Barbara looked freshly moisturized, face bare but somehow camera-ready, in skintight yoga pants and an ivory cropped tee. Taylor pulled her VS hoodie over her damp curls, twisting her wet hair into a messy bun with one hand while balancing a protein shake in the other.

Julia stood by the monitors as they entered, eyes flicking up from her clipboard. "Good, you're on time." She barely smiled. "Let's get started."

The massive studio lights flashed on as the camera crew raised their lenses. The backdrop was already prepped: a clean VS campaign set, pink and white graphics, towering logos, and discreet branding for each of their assigned F1 teams layered behind them.

A producer called out, voice sharp but cheerful. "Okay, ladies, wide smiles, energy up, light banter. Think fun, think flirty, but controlled."

Martha exhaled softly under her breath, stepping forward first.

The masks were sliding back on. And just like that, the cameras rolled. The girls smiled. And the performance started all over again. The lights were brutal. Hot. White. Designed to wash every flaw into something marketable.

The pink backdrop gleamed under the LED panels as the camera crew prepped the first take. Clipboards flicked. Makeup artists stood just out of frame for touch-ups. A producer counted them in.

"Alright, ladies. We're live in three... two... one..."

Martha, Gigi, Lila, Barbara, and Taylor stood in formation, soft waves of energy passing between them as they locked their poses.

The smiles were automatic.

"Welcome to the paddock!" Martha's voice rang out first, bright, warm, and perfectly modulated. She lifted one hand in a tiny wave, like she was genuinely excited, even though her heart was still beating somewhere back in Velvet.

"This is race one of many," Gigi chimed in, her voice smooth but slightly breathy. She was blinking a little more than usual under the hot lights. "And we are so excited to be here with all of you."

Lila giggled, stepping in seamlessly. "I think our feet are still recovering from the runway walk."

Barbara added softly, her tone professional and sweet, "But we'll be ready for Shanghai. We're already back in training mode."

Taylor smirked directly into the lens. "And obviously, we're bringing plenty of glam with us."

The producer cut in behind the lens. "Perfect. Let's jump into the rapid-fire questions."

The lights burned hotter. The smiles stayed. The producer started firing. "Favorite moment of the weekend?"

"Fashion show," Lila answered instantly, flashing her teeth.

"Podium," Gigi said right after, her eyes widening slightly like the lights were suddenly too much.

"Track walk," Barbara offered, her voice even, but she shifted her weight like she couldn't stand still.

Martha spoke last. "The afterparty." She blinked once, slow, her voice syrupy smooth as her mouth curved up. "Of course."

The camera crew chuckled lightly. David, standing just off-set with Julia, didn't laugh. His jaw ticked for half a second.

Julia leaned in towards him, whispering, "They're a little sluggish."

"Long night," David muttered under his breath. His eyes never left Martha. "Standard."

Julia didn't argue. But her brow furrowed for half a second before smoothing back out.

"Next question!" the producer called. "Which team's garage is your favorite so far?"

Gigi swayed a little, pressing her tongue to her cheek before answering. "Williams, obviously," she purred, her voice a touch too soft. "I mean, we're practically family now."

Lila's laugh was half a second late. "Red Bull's very... high energy."

Martha spoke, voice flat but playful. "McLaren's got great coffee."

Barbara chimed in quickly, almost covering a hiccup. "Ferrari's just... iconic."

Taylor giggled too hard. "I can't pick. They're all dangerous."

The crew laughed again, but Julia was already watching the tiny signs, the slightly blown pupils, the overcompensated giggles, the fractional slurring in Gigi's vowels.

David leaned into her again. "They're fine."

Julia whispered back, "It's more obvious today."

"They pulled it together. It's what matters."

The producer smiled brightly from behind the lens.

"Last one, what are you most looking forward to next race?"

There was a beat. The girls glanced at each other. A half-second of delay.

Barbara answered first this time, quick and smooth: "Walking the Shanghai track."

Gigi followed with a soft breath. "Seeing the fans."

Taylor grinned. "The outfits."

Lila winked. "The parties."

And Martha, still, smooth, unreadable, added, "The people."

That earned another soft laugh from the crew. The cameras cut. David and Julia stood quietly as the girls were immediately swept into touch-ups for the second round of filming.

"They're holding," Julia whispered.

"They always hold," David replied quietly, voice neutral. "Until they don't."

But neither of them moved. 

The walls of the fitting room were glossy white, lined with rolling racks of fabric samples, hanging garment bags embroidered with names and country flags. Under the bright LED strips, the girls stood one by one on the raised platform, surrounded by stylists with measuring tapes, pins tucked behind their ears, and tablet screens tracking every millimetre of fabric.

This wasn't glamour. This was maintenance.

Karen stood near the back with Julia, quietly overseeing it all while the stylists moved with clinical speed.

Lila was first, her gym set for Shanghai being sketched and pinned directly onto her. The bubblegum pink shades were being swapped out for a sharper lilac hue this round, paired with sleek mesh inserts to show more of her ribcage. "I love this color," Lila murmured, glancing in the mirror and adjusting her ponytail. "It screams 'expensive problem.'"

The stylist laughed softly, smoothing the fabric. "That's exactly what we're going for."

Taylor's turn came next, deep fuchsia for Shanghai, cut higher on the waist to exaggerate her long legs. The seamstress double-checked the stitching with quick, sharp fingers.

"These cuts keep getting smaller," Taylor muttered under her breath.

"More skin sells more streams," Barbara replied flatly from the corner, sipping her green juice as she waited for her turn.

Gigi stood barefoot, arms up, as two stylists adjusted the hem of her top to hit just above her ribcage. She wasn't really listening, too busy watching herself in the mirror, pupils still faintly wide even under the harsh lights.

And then it was Martha's turn. She stepped up onto the platform like she wasn't dizzy, like the floor wasn't still shifting beneath her from the comedown. Her body moved in that perfect, fluid way it always did, like her bones had been sculpted rather than grown.

The head stylist circled her slowly, tape measure in hand, voice calm. "Waist... down another half inch."

Karen's brows lifted slightly. Julia made a small note on her tablet.

"Arms... leaner. Thighs..." The stylist smiled, her voice soft like it was a compliment. "You've trimmed down beautifully, MJ."

Martha didn't react. She stared at herself in the mirror, face blank, eyes heavy but calm.

"Not in a bad way," the stylist added quickly, adjusting the bustline. "Honestly, it's exactly where we want you for Shanghai."

"Perfect," Julia said from behind. "Keep her there."

Karen nodded once. "Maintain. No more drops for now."

"Of course," the stylist replied.

Martha's face didn't move. She'd heard this a hundred times. She knew exactly how this worked. The praise was always wrapped around control.

Barbara, sitting nearby, muttered under her breath, "Nothing like being professionally congratulated for starving."

Gigi snorted. "Normal industry things."

Taylor added, smiling but bitter, "Body by cocaine and Karen's sadism."

Lila let out a soft hum. "At least the sets are cute."

The stylist continued pinning Martha's new Shanghai set, deep cherry red, with sharper cuts at the ribs and thighs, the VS logo perfectly stitched into the waistband, the fabric clinging to her frame like a second skin.

"Alright, you're set. This'll be ready for pickup tomorrow," the stylist said, stepping back to admire her work.

Martha finally blinked, sliding her arms down.

"Next," Karen called, her voice sharp.

The girls rotated seamlessly, moving onto the next fitting as if none of this was strange. Because for them? It wasn't.

The room was cool, silent, and sterile. A sharp contrast to the hot chaos outside. The kind of space designed for quiet conversations behind closed doors.

Julia sat behind the sleek white desk, her tablet open, scrolling through the updated campaign analytics. The Shanghai prep schedule blinked in clean color-coded blocks: fittings, media content, training sessions, crossovers with the teams.

Across from her stood Karen, arms crossed, sipping black coffee like it was fuel. Both women looked calm. Neutral. Professional. But underneath that? The tension hummed.

Julia was the first to speak, voice clipped but smooth. "They're holding."

Karen nodded. "For now."

Julia glanced up. "Martha's numbers?"

Karen exhaled through her nose. "Half an inch drop on the waist. Leaner on the thighs. Arms are toning out. She's hitting where we want her."

"Good." Julia tapped a note onto her screen.

"Gigi's still a hair soft," Karen continued. "The face is holding water. We'll adjust her sodium intake before Shanghai."

Julia didn't react. "And Lila?"

"Solid. Barb's stable. Taylor's borderline, her glutes are swelling under resistance training, but the fans love that look."

They both paused as Julia flicked through the lineup photos from this morning's content shoot.

"She's getting that signature 'chiselled but effortless' look now," Julia murmured, pausing on Martha's still shot.

Karen's eyes narrowed slightly. "She's walking the fine line between professional thin and public concern."

Julia didn't blink. "We'll hold her there."

"She's running hot though," Karen added. "The pace she's on? With the schedule? If we keep adding, we're going to burn her out."

Julia finally looked up fully. "She'll hold."

"And if she doesn't?"

Julia's mouth twitched into a barely-there smile. "Then we shift the narrative. Exhaustion is manageable. The world loves a comeback arc."

Karen hummed in agreement. "The public only panics when weight loss looks sick. Right now? She looks... aspirational."

"Exactly."

For a brief second, they both watched the silent loop of the girls on the screen, smiling wide, posing in their custom gymwear, laughing into the cameras like this was all perfectly natural.

Karen sipped her coffee again. "You want me to tighten their intake before Shanghai?"

Julia thought for half a beat. "Slightly. Two pounds maximum across the board. Just enough for press week."

"And supplements?"

"Keep the IVs running weekly. Vitamin blends only. No added risk."

Karen nodded, making a mental note.

Julia leaned back. "We're in Phase One of the campaign. This is where we push. If they can hold until Monaco, we're golden."

"They'll hold," Karen said, calm as ice.

Julia smiled faintly. "They always do."

[silverwings22]

Starfall: Chapter 4: Collapse

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

(GUN High-security base, present day)

Every day for as long as Star could remember started about the same. The lights came on in the lab as a team of humans in lab coats came in. Someone turned on the coffee machine, and the strong smell of it brewing overtook the scent of cleaning supplies and lab chemicals for a while. They had a meeting and reviewed her test results and vitals from the day before, and then they decided what she went through for the day. 

She’d lost track of what they were studying about her. She’d been poked and prodded, x-rayed and cat-scanned, strapped into loud MRI machines, and had so much blood taken she’d passed out several times. Sometimes they’d take her to a stress-test gym and let her run around or move things from point A to B. At first, she’d tried to use those times to escape. She’d argued and fought, but the shock collar was dialed up enough to take her to her knees. It always ended with her sedated and back in the cage in the end… and eventually, she just gave up. She didn’t fight anymore, and she didn’t even bother talking. No one was listening anyway.

This morning, when the lights came on, the team studying her kept casting nervous looks her direction. “You think this one can talk too?” One muttered. 

“I’m more concerned about it blipping in and out of reality to hit shit.” Another huffed. 

The quiet new one, the intern, shook her head and crouched to put food in the bowl in the corner of Star’s cage. “I told you guys not to be dicks to her. I’d be sick of your shit after 50 years too. When she goes Orca-at-Seaworld, I don’t want to hear it.”

50 years? Had she really been here that long? Star scooted over near the food bowl, but instead just peeked out at the white-labcoated figures. She hadn’t spent a ton of time looking at them, faces coming and going so much she didn’t care to learn them. She’d be disassociated for a long time, but a concrete length of time caught her off guard and brought her back to the present. 

Instead of a meeting, they turned on a TV in the corner, watching the news. Star hadn’t gotten word from the outside world in so long she was surprised to see how bright and clear the picture was. She hadn’t watched a TV since the ARK, on movie nights. That’s right… we used to watch movies. Maria would pick them for us. She liked happy endings.

She hadn’t thought of Maria’s name in a long time either, the mental image of the girl’s face too painful to dwell on for long. Her didactic memory didn’t let the sharpness of them fade. She never forgot details, even when she wanted to. Especially when she wanted to, when she couldn’t stop imagining the look in Maria’s blue eyes in the split second before Shadow pulled her away. The last time she’d seen either of them. 

If Star could push the memories of Maria down, she never stopped thinking of Shadow. Until she’d given up, she’d dreamed of a rescue that never came. Either he was dead, captured, or didn’t care about her… but when she folded herself into her own mind and tried to live any other reality than what she was experiencing, she always imagined herself back with him. Her dreams always returned to the ARK, to her room where she’d woken up the day her life had been destroyed beyond repair, where she was curled up and safe with her head on Shadow’s chest. 

She shook off the temptation to sink back into the daydream and looked up at the TV. The news anchor was talking about an activation on the defunct space station in orbit that had nearly crashed it into the Earth, praising a blue Mobian hedgehog called “Sonic” and his friends for quick action that saved the planet from destruction. Star’s brows knitted together as she pressed closer to the front of the cage to watch the clips. 

It wasn’t the blue hedgehog, yellow fox, or red echidna that held her attention when they flashed across the screen. It was who they were fighting. A black and red hedgehog, using the same chaos warping abilities she knew so well from back on the ARK. 

Shadow. 

He was alive, and he’d tried to destroy the planet… with her still on it!

“The GUN Commander advised the situation has been contained, and there is no reason for any additional alarm. The threat has been contained, and GUN will continue working with the Mobian heroes in case of any further danger.” The achor was still talking, showing an image of a gray-haired man with two different colored eyes and in a GUN uniform heavy with medals.  

Star had heard enough and started aggressively rattling the bars of her cage, getting the team of humans to turn around. “Oh shit, it’s mad.” One of them mumbled “Turn the news off.” 

The intern, the bravest of them, crouched down by the cage. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s the matter?” 

Star pushed an arm between the bars, catching the front of her labcoat in her claws. Someone was yelling about activating the shock collar, but the intern shook her head and held a hand up. She patiently scooted a little closer, until she was in range to hear an extremely weak from disuse voice. Star had to cough twice to get enough volume, even with her closing the gap. “I want to talk to Abraham Tower.” She gritted out. “Tell him it’s Star, from the ARK.”

Once she’d gotten her words out, she released the woman’s shirtfront and scooted back into the cage. Abe might still be harboring the same loathing he’d had back on the ARK, but she was willing to bet he hated someone else more than her right now. And if Shadow had been willing to let her die when he destroyed the planet… maybe there was a little fight left in her after all. 

Shadow had spent the last fifty years in stasis, then a brief stint attempting to destroy the Earth. To him, the loss of his family was a fresh wound still barely scabbed over. It meant he spent a lot of time laying on the roof of the small house he’d been given, staring up at the sky and comparing the view form the ARK’s observation deck to Earth. Sonic had arranged for him to live here in Mystic Ruins, due to a bizarrely friendly relationship with the President and his insistence Shadow wasn’t the one to blame for what had happened after his escape from Prison Island. He didn’t get it; Sonic himself was technically a drifter without a home of his own and Shadow would have been fine living the same way. He’d been prepared to.

Honestly, Shadow didn’t understand any part of why Sonic insisted on liking him, or being so friendly. He wasn’t exactly good at returning the favor. Maria had always been the friendly one, and Star was better at following her lead and opening up to others. But they weren’t here now. He was all that was left of the ARK trio, alone in a way he was profoundly unprepared for. 

It had been a lot to try to wrap his head around. Maria’s death, still raw after so much time, and how it had driven Gerald insane. Star’s execution, which Shadow could find nothing about no matter how long he searched for a grave to visit. He’d found Maria and Gerald’s, a family plot not far from this little Mobian village he was taking up residency in. He’d left flowers, white lilies and he’d found and picked himself, and sat with his back to Maria’s headstone to tell her everything he had been through since she’d died. No one had been around, and he’d choked up when he had to tell her he’d let her down and Star was gone forever. He hadn’t been able to keep his promise to find her… Not that she didn’t likely know. Star’s spirit was surely right next to hers, best friends for eternity, watching over him with a pair of twin fond smiles and bright blue eyes. If there was such a thing as heaven, Chaos knew they were in it together and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever make his way there. It killed him that the very fate Maria and Gerald had tried to save him from by creating Star in the first place, to be by himself for eternity, was the reality he woke up to every day. 

Now that most of his rage had turned to melancholy with the prospect of forever alone sitting in front of him, he saw Star in everything. Every new experience, he caught himself turning to show her. At any slight annoyance, which came around far more often than it used to, he searched for her to share a side eye with. Sometimes he woke up in a cold sweat, a nightmare of the ARK raid, and reached for her hand that wasn’t there. He hadn’t been out of stasis long enough for the muscle memory to fade. She was supposed to be asleep in the bed beside him, and the absence still felt like a slap to the face every time. She’d only just become his, and was snatched away too soon.

He sighed, adjusting his arms behind his head, and looked up at the clouds rolling by. It was a sunny afternoon, with nothing to outwardly complain about. Not that he wouldn’t find something. He had this life to contend with, alongside all its joys and sorrows, even if he had no idea what he was doing with it…. He should have been grateful, he supposed. Maria had certainly saved his life by launching him out of the ARK; she had been right that he’d have gotten himself killed trying to rescue Star. Still, he wished he could have tried. Star would have liked this kind of life on Earth, she’d always had less doubts about their place here than he had. 

The perpetual discomfort of being out of time and with no one familiar had given him something of an infamous personality around the village. Sonic’s insistence on showing up constantly, in an endless attempt to befriend him, didn’t help. He didn’t need new friends. He didn’t even want them. He had his memories, and he had his solitude. The occasional conversation with Vanilla the Rabbit and her daughter Cream was tolerable, even if the kid let her chao friend Cheese climb all over him. And the bat, Rouge, sometimes invited him along on her treasure hunting trips. It kept him busy and they worked well together. That was enough for Shadow.

“Shadow!” As if he could sense the other hedgehog enjoying the silence, Sonic’s voice rang out from the ground. 

“How did you know I was just thinking about how much I didn’t want to talk to you?” Shadow sighed. “What do you want?”

“Came to check on you. There was weird stuff on the news, so I’m checking on everybody around town.”

Don’t engage and he’ll leave. Don’t ask, don’t- Curiosity was stronger than Shadow’s standoffish dislike and he rolled over onto his stomach to look over the edge of the roof. “What ‘weird stuff’?” 

“Eggman broke out of Prison Island.” Sonic backed up and took a running leap, landing on the roof next to a performatively disinterested Shadow. “And apparently some GUN base is getting shut down. For classified reasons.

“I broke out of Prison Island. It stands to reason it can be done, even by someone as incompetent as Eggman.” Shadow rolled back over onto his back. “And good. One less to deal with.”

“You’re not the least bit curious?” Sonic huffed, flopping down beside him. 

“No.” Shadow knew he was being cold to Sonic, and he could almost hear Maria scolding him, but he couldn’t make himself care about the people who’d taken her and Star away from him. The best he could do was a begrudging truce between his hatred and Maria’s wish for humanity to be happy. He was… working on it. He’d at least stopped the ARK from crashing into the planet, it was better than nothing. 

Sonic rolled his eyes. “You’re not as heartless as you act.”

“How do you know what I’m like?” 

“Lucky guess. You just gotta loosen up. You oughta get a girlfriend.”

“I had one.” Shadow huffed. “Get off my roof.”

“I’m the reason you have a roof and didn’t go back into custody, you know.” 

“Not my fault you have a bleeding heart.” Shadow sat up. “Now go away.” 

“Nah. I wanna hang out, and hear you tell me about the saint of a girl that dated you.”

Shadow leaned over and pushed him off the roof, listening to the satisfying thud of blue quills hitting the ground. “That’s none of your business. Leave her out of it.”

“Oh c’mon!” Sonic whined. “You talk to Rouge! Hell, you talk to Amy.”

“Maybe I like them better than you.” 

“I swear you only like girls.” 

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Historically, yes. They tend to be less obnoxious.” It seemed he wasn’t getting out of this impromptu visit, so he jumped down off the roof and let his air shoes catch him next to Sonic. “You should try it.”

“Rude. I know you didn’t talk like that to your friend Maria. Or your girlfriend….” 

“I said leave her out of it.” Shadow’s jaw tightened. “She’s been dead for fifty years.” It doesn’t feel like fifty years. It feels like last week. It feels like she could walk in that door any time, hand in hand with Maria, and it would make sense. The familiar painful ache in Shadow’s chest started up again, and he absently pressed the heel of his hand against the white patch on his chest to try to make it go away. 

Sonic frowned, tracking the motion. “Shadow? You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Shadow took a quick step back, opening his front door and stepping inside. “Go check on someone else.” The door slammed hard between him and Sonic, and once the blue hedgehog couldn’t see him Shadow sank to the floor and dropped his hands over his head. 

Fuck… this hurt. It hurt so goddamn much he wanted to scream sometimes. When he was alone, he could let himself feel the grief. There was no one around to judge if he cracked, no one but the ghosts of the people he missed who would never think less of him for missing them so much it hurt to breathe. But when he had to stifle it, shove it down so nobody could see him cry? 

He might actually understand why loss was also called heartbreak. Because it actually felt like his heart was cracking in his chest, and he wondered absently if it could really kill him. It seemed like nothing else could… and plenty had tried. 

“Sixteen security levels of clearance to even know you were here. Five more to get into the building.” Abe Tower watched a creature he hadn’t seen in 50 years climb out of a heavy-duty dog crate. “Star of the ARK. You haven’t aged a day.” 

“I don’t do that.” She rasped as she stood and stretched for the first time in months. She looked no older, but there were changes. The dark circles under her eyes, how scruffy her fur and quills were, and the nearly flat affect in her eyes were a far cry from the scrappy little hedgehog he remembered. “You’ve explained your six month delay in getting here, now get this thing off.” Star pointed at her neck.

Abe nodded to one of the soldiers with him, who had a set of bolt cutters and sheared the shock collar off her. As soon as it clanged to the floor, she was rubbing the raw spots where her fur had thinned or been rubbed off. “Feel better?” 

Star nodded, turning around and kicking the cage as hard as she could. It went sliding back into the wall with a loud crash, crumbling sheetrock and falling apart. “I do now.” 

He shook his head. “Destructive. Was that really necessary?”

“I’ve been in a dog cage for 50 years. Yeah, it was.” She huffed. 

Abe sighed. “Okay, fair enough. Look, I didn’t know you were here. I’d really rather not have a situation like I just dealt with again, so how can I keep you from destroying the planet without locking you up?”

“I don’t want to destroy the planet.” Star climbed into an office chair and crossed her legs, looking both wound up and exhausted. She looked him up and down thoughtfully, and the exhaustion in her eyes made him worry she was going to just fall over. “GUN Commander is an interesting career choice for you, Abe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowned. 

“I don’t think I could work for the people who killed my family.” She leaned back, interlacing her hands in her lap. 

“What are you talking about? My parents were killed by a contagion Robotnik let loose in the lab-”

“Lies.” Star breathed. “The research team was gunned down in cold blood. Orders given by the commander who arrested me and Professor Robotnik. I even surrendered peacefully to spare their lives. He went back on the deal… GUN shot Maria, too.” 

Abe froze. “... heard that one before, actually.” 

“From Shadow?” Star asked curiously. 

“Yeah. That’s what this all was about. Him trying to destroy the Earth for revenge. I almost get it…” Abe sighed. “Almost.” 

Star closed her eyes. “So it’s what I thought it was. You can verify my story, with your rank and security clearance. There were cameras, and stories changed for a coverup, I’m sure.” 

“Why would GUN lie about what happened?” Abe demanded. 

“Why would I?” Star shrugged. “I don’t like liars. Though you probably don’t want me to go to the media about being held for 50 years as an experiment. Makes GUN look like real monsters, you know.” 

Abe groaned. “That sounds a lot like a threat.” 

“I don’t want much, Abe. And after 50 years in here…” She let the end of the sentence hang, but he understood. After so long without trial or due process, the least he could do was give her something. And if he wouldn’t play ball, she’d do whatever it took to avoid ending up back in a collar. 

And he’d seen first hand what someone like her, an Ultimate Lifeform, was capable of when they were angry. “Fine. What do you want?” 

“Real clothes. A hot cup of coffee. My boots back. And GUN to stay out of my way.” 

Abe pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stay out of your way while you do what?” 

“I have some unfinished business.” Star crossed her arms, fixing him with a dead-eyed stare. It made his skin crawl, her eyes were the exact same shade of blue as Maria’s had been. Maria, though, had almost always looked lively. Even when she’d been sick, she had a spark. Meanwhile, Star looked like the light in her had gone out a long, long time ago. 

He sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll get you what you ask for, and I’ll get you cleared to leave while I check out your story about the ARK. If it’s true… I’ll deal with my predecessor. If you’re lying to me, I’ll have you hauled back in here to answer for it.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’m not lying.” She shrugged. Abe got to the door leading outside and opened it first, letting Star go ahead of him. She knew he didn’t trust her behind him, but she didn’t care. She just stepped out into the cool night air for the first time in 50 years, and looked up at the dark sky. 

The stars glimmered just as brightly as they had in space, as beautiful as she remembered. The ARK was still hanging above, the orbit closer than she remembered but the familiar outline of the colony shaped like Gerald’s head and mustache was still there. .

Home. The ache to return, to fling herself off Earth and back into the sky, burrowed deep in her chest. It was the first strong emotion she’d felt in so long that it almost made her sick, and she had to wind it back down deep inside before it undid her. She tore her eyes away from it before it became too much, and looked across the sky. 

“... I don’t remember the moon looking like that.” She muttered, startled. The moon looked like someone had violently struck it with a bat, breaking a chunk and scattering it’s rubble across the sky in a spray of shrapnel. 

“That’s a… recent development. Your boyfriend did it.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” She snapped. She’d been made for him, but after this… she was willing to fight gods and Chaos itself to defy her fate. 

“Easy.” Abe frowned. “Does he have anything to do with what you want me to keep GUN out of?”

“As a matter of fact, he does.” Star sat down on the concrete helipad they were standing on, looking up at the sky like it might hold the answers she was looking for. 

“I don’t see what I get out of letting two superpowered alien hybrids duke it out.” 

“You get what you always wanted, Abe.” Star finally turned and looked at him. “The two freaks from the ARK, out of your hair. Permanently.” 

[antlersofthevoid]

Dust From The Past: Chapter 1 - Conspiracy

//SURPRIIIISEE It's here!! Song from the Act 1 Playlist is: 'Kara Main Theme'

CONSOLIDATED ANDROID NO 001

SYSTEM START….

Initializing…

.

.

.

Complete.

Data Blackbox : ONLINE

Audio Processors : ONLINE

Adjusting Optics…

Internal Systems : OPERATIONAL

.

.

Its eyes opened—not smoothly, but with the sharp precision of a camera shutter snapping into action, introducing it to the world for the first time. For a moment, it’s vision was a blur of bright fluorescent lights and pristine concrete walls to match.

But just as quickly as the shutter had snapped, the world came into focus.

The room was cold and quiet, save for the humming of the lights above it, and a distant conversation a few rooms over.

Cold air hit the few parts of it’s metal arms and legs that remained exposed by the strange article of gray clothing that covered most of its body, and the robot wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

…It could feel..?

It could….think…?

An involuntary twitch moved the digits of its left hand as an android on another table awoke.

It wasn’t sure how just yet, but something told it that they were different from each other. This one was taller, and based on the few strands of synthetic black hair that it could see curling around its face in the corner of its optics, as compared to the cherry red hair of the new one, the differences were intentional.

“Are they going to work, or not?”

A new sound made both of them turn their attention to the only way out of the room, staring with pure curiosity as two new figures entered.

Humans. A short one in a lab coat with glasses and long, scruffy black hair that had been tied back in a ponytail, and a tall one, a brunette with neatly trimmed hair and a fancy business suit.

“I told you they will, you just have to give them time-”

And then they stopped. Both androids made eye contact with the men.

“...Francis, what is this?”

The tall one glared at the shorter one- who the two androids assumed was Francis.

“Sir, I told you.” The shorter one pushed his glasses back onto his nose. “I took some creative liberties with the project-”

The tall one stepped towards the two androids, a displeased expression on his face. The two androids shared a look of confusion. Had they already done something wrong?

Francis pointed towards the red-haired one.

“These are the two prototypes. That’s Vex.”

The displeased taller human rolled his eyes.

“You NAMED them?”

Francis ignored him, gesturing towards the black-haired one.

“And that’s Jamie.”

“I didn’t ask you for PETS.”

The tall one spun on his heels to face Francis.

“I asked you for MACHINES. TOOLS. Not dress-up toys!”

Jamie. So that was its name!

Jamie…

…Yeah, it liked that name.

“These ARE your machines. I just took us a step further in the project and put us in a brand new direction.”

Jamie glanced at Vex, who had turned their attention to something in the corner of the room. A bug, maybe?

“What the hell are you talking about, Francis?”

Francis moved to Jamie’s side, waving a hand in front of the android enthusiastically.

“Just think! First, we start with clearing out the mine- show everyone what they can do-”

“And?”

“And then, we move UP! Think of all the jobs these guys could take! We could reduce the rate of unnecessary work deaths! If there isn’t a REAL person working the job, there are no liabilities!”

…what the heck were they talking about?

The tall one thought for a moment, before nodding and flashing Francis a smile. Jamie wasn’t sure if it was a genuine one, or a sinister smile.

“I like your thinking, Francis.”

“Here, and you can even take one of the prototypes! Test it out, let it work around the office- send it to go fetch papers or something. Your choice.”

..what was going to happen to the other one?

“Give me the red one.” The taller one spoke without hesitation. “You can put the other one in storage for now. We’ll keep it for the showcase.”

The two androids shared a look of confusion and…another emotion that neither really knew of yet. Had Jamie done something wrong? Had Vex done something? What was going to happen to Jamie?

It felt a hand brush against the sensors on it’s face before it’s vision focused again. Only Francis and Jamie remained in the room.

It stayed perfectly still as his hand moved to the back of it’s neck, doing something with the control panel between it’s shoulders.

And then it finally spoke. It took a few crackles and confused attempts at words, before Jamie finally got the words out of their processor.

“....Did i…..do something..wrong..?”

Francis shook his head, smiling at the robot.

“No, no, sweet girl, you’re just..”

It- no.. she, tilted her head.

“It’s just not your time to shine yet, is all.”

SYSTEM POWER SWITCH OFF.

10 SECONDS TO SHUTDOWN.

“You’re alright.”

She found his words oddly assuring, a confirmation that her simple existence hadn’t been an immediate failure.

“You’ll get your chance again, Jamie.”

5 SECONDS…

The camera lens closed again. She didn’t want to fade back into nothingness again, but she had no choice.

“...They’ll love you. I know they all will.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Y̵̴̷̵̵̡̧̧̛̼̱͎̠̜̘͍̘̥̣̩̰͔͉ͣ̑ͩ͒ͣ̐̍̾́̈́̅͊̎̀̽͐͊͟͡͠ͅͅơ̧̨̝̼̦̱̰͈͍̙͆͋͒̔̂ͭ̎̑̿̈́͋̂̓̀̐̀̋ͤ͗̑̆̄̕͢͢͠͞ͅụ̷̵̢̭̠͕͈͚̾͋̆̾̿͗͑̌͒̽ͨ̇͒ͦ͞_͕̘̗͔̻̽̓̎͊̊ͯ̂'̪͈̞̙͛̀ͪͬͦ̚r͓̝̖̈́̔ͦ́͌_̡̨̪͍̩̳͙̲̤̳̰ͤ̂̒ͥ̊ͭ͛ͫ͘_̡̼̝͇̘͙̟ͥ͊͋ͤͥ͌̇̕͠͡e̷̸̢̢̜̦̝̝͎͔̩͍̤͍͍͔̹͔̞̯͋͆͐͆ͯͮ͊̋̂̌ͫ͋̿̀́ͮͦ͌̑ͩ͆͟͜͞ͅͅ d̴̸̢̻̙͚̬̩̳̳͍͕̪̗̾̐̓̒͛̑̀ͮ͠ͅͅŗ̵̷̷̴̶̡̱͉͚͉̠̹̟̘͉͖͉͙̍̈̋ͦ͗̔̋́̈̋ͩ̑ͮ̒̏͌͋͐ͥ͌̕͘̕̚͟͡ͅͅe̵̷̶̝̭̭͈̦̜̟̺̮̻̠̦̲̩̫͍ͪ͊̃́̉͆̊͛͗̌̎̃̐̿̂́̏̔̚͘ą͕̯̭͎ͧ̌̃͐ͭ̊ͫ̋͊ͫ̚͢͝m̵̴͇̜̟̠͊̀̕ͅi̴̠̫̼̻͎ͦͥ͛ͩ̔̊ͩ̕͟͠n̗g̷̴̗̖̖̗̦̻̲͕̺̜͕ͯͩ̄̂̈́̉̈̽̅̾̈́͊̃ͩ̋̾ͧͭ̚̚͜͞ͅ a̴̭͇̤̦̻̜̼ͦ̌ͫ̇̾̚ͅ_̶̢̰̦͉͍̙̙̭ͨͨ̾ͣ͂͒ͥ͋̋́̿ͦ͘͟͡g̶̨̝̖͍̰̹̥̦͎̬͍̼̰̯͎̒̏ͦ̑̊͗̽̒̊ͪ̃ͧ͛͢a̝͙̮̎̑̽̚ì̧̺̲̼̤̏ͦͮͥ͛ͩ̕ņ̰̫̰̯̪̦̲͇̺̺̗̲̙̲̹̳ͬͮ̀̏ͩ͂̄ͭ̽̍͊̓͑̀͒̉̄̉ͣ̒̚̕̕͘͜͡.̴̸̞̪̥̭͇̥͔͖͖̬̻͈̮ͥͤͥ̋̇ͮ̓̄̆ͣ̊͘͜͜͟͟

W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏

W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏

W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏ W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏ W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏ W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏ W̫͖͎̝͇̮ͬ̅ͪ̄̍̀̎̋̌ͬ̕ͅa̷̖̣ͯ̃͌k̷̰̦̤̳̖̮̥͔̽ͯ́̈́̈́ͧ̂͛̑̔̋͂ͭ͊̕͝ẹ̙̯̬̘̠̙̘̰͕̒̌ͣ̊̃ͮ̃̇ͥ̈_̱ ṳ̸̧̩̘̙͍̱̋͋̀_̲͊̾̑̕͜p̮̰̦̟ͮ̿̈́̅̏

Junebug gasped as she jolted upwards, digging her hands into the blanket around her.

It was dark. She could see, she knew she could, it just took a minute for her optics to adjust- something about cameras and exposure and…yeah, something like that.

Where was she, again..?

The weight beside her finally registered. Johnny lay peacefully sleeping on his side beside her, arms curled to his chest and his face buried in a pillow.

Spare bedroom, basement, tv…couch…

Right, Clara and Cyrano’s house. She and Johnny did a set at a bar nearby and asked to stay with them for the weekend. The bike was outside, the keys were on the table.

Well, there was no chance of her going back to sleep, not after that nightmare.

Junebug moved slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb her Cricket, taking careful steps up the stairs and into the kitchen.

She’d made up her mind about halfway up the steps, deciding that she’d snag one of the leftover donuts from the box on the kitchen table, and then maybe..go for a late night swim. Surely they didn’t get a pool put in outside just for it to be a decoration, and she was waterproof anyway, what would it hurt?

Ⱥꞥđ ⱳħⱥⱦ īꞩ īⱦ ɏꝋᵾ ⱦħīꞥҟ ɏꝋᵾ'ɍē đꝋīꞥꞡ?

It was too early to be fighting her inner demons.

She brushed off the nagging feeling of impending doom as she licked a stray fleck of caramel from her chin, making sure not to accidentally trigger the chime that Clara had installed near the back door.

Łꝋꝋҟ ⱥⱦ īⱦ. Īⱦ ⱦħīꞥҟꞩ īⱦ ȼⱥꞥ ēⱥⱦ łīҟē ⱥ ħᵾᵯⱥꞥ. Īⱦ ⱦħīꞥҟꞩ īⱦ īꞩ ħᵾᵯⱥꞥ.

Warm weather, clear skies, perfect conditions for a night swim.

Junebug always preferred to swim in shorts, never a swimsuit. She could never really decide why, and everytime someone asked, she gave them a different answer. She could never find one she liked, or one that fit her, or she didn’t like how they were made, or-

..Or maybe she just didn’t like people seeing the wield marks in her plating.

Ⱦⱥҟē ⱥ ꞡꝋꝋđ, łꝋꞥꞡ łꝋꝋҟ ⱥꞥđ ɍēᵯēᵯƀēɍ ⱳħⱥⱦ ɏꝋᵾ ⱥɍē

The water was perfectly still. The moon provided just enough light for her to see her own reflection as she moved to step into the water.

Her mismatched eyes, the scratches in her plating, uneven wield marks on her neck.

The plating. Her skin.

Łꝋꝋҟ ⱥⱦ ɏꝋᵾ, ꝑɍēⱦēꞥđīꞥꞡ ⱦꝋ ƀē ⱥ ħᵾᵯⱥꞥ. Ɏꝋᵾ ȼⱥꞥ'ⱦ ēꞩȼⱥꝑē ⱳħⱥⱦ ɏꝋᵾ ⱥɍē.

Her breath caught in her throat. She forgot it was possible, artificial lungs, yet another curse-within-a-blessing given to them by the company.

₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮₴₮Ø₱ł₮

“...Junebug?”

She hadn’t realized how close she’d gotten to the edge before she lost her footing and fell in at the jolt of surprise.

The water hit her senses before she could even process what was going on, body twisting and flailing in the water as she tried to move in whatever direction she could perceive as up.

A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, and she found a shoulder to rest her head on as she caught her breath.

𝗔⃥𝘳̸𝗲⃥ 𝘆⃥𝘰̸𝘂⃥ 𝗼⃥𝘬̸𝗮⃥𝘺̸?⃥!̸ 𝘑̸𝘂⃥𝘯̸𝗲⃥𝘣̸𝘂⃥𝘨̸?⃥!̸

… Ɉᵾꞥēƀᵾꞡ?!

Johnny. It was Johnny. He had her.

“June! Jesus, answer me!”

After realizing whose arms she was in (And who had accidentally scared her in the first place), she tightened her arms around his shoulders just a bit more.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, Cricket.”

Well, that was one way to get in the pool. They were still in the shallow end, so they could both stand, even though Junebug was using Johnny for support as she rebalanced herself and coughed up the small amount of water she had accidentally inhaled.

“You just scared me, that's all.”

Johnny frowned and furrowed his brows as Junebug pulled back.

“You scared me. I woke up and you weren’t there, and then I came out here to see you hyperventilating beside the pool.”

Shit.

“Just couldn’t sleep.”

Johnny kept his hand on her arm, keeping her close to him.

“Is that really it?”

She tried to pull away as he pulled her into another embrace.

“That’s it, Cricket. Nothing else to talk about.”

“Talk to meeeeeeee.” Johnny pouted.

“There isn’t anything else to talk about.” Junebug stared over his shoulder and into the water. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was making the “alright, I guess we’re doing this” face.

Especially when he started drifting backwards, pulling her towards the deep end of the pool.

“CrICkET”

“What?” Johnny teased, snickering as she wrapped her arms and legs around him this time.

“If there isn’t anything to talk about, surely you don’t mind-”

Junebug playfully swatted at his face. “You know I hate being in the deep!”

It was true, and he knew it. They were both originally built to maneuver in water, meaning that taking a swim in a pool, or even in down in the echo river at the rum colony, was no big deal, but Junebug absolutely DESPISED being where she couldn’t touch the bottom.

“Do I?”

“If you’re trying to get me to talk, this isn’t going to work.”

He planted a kiss on her cheek. She stuck her tongue out and retaliated by nipping at his ear.

“C’mon, June. You know you never win this fight.”

Junebug let her chin rest on his shoulder again. “I’ve told you about my dreams before. There, that’s it. I had a dream and couldn’t go back to sleep so I came out here. Happy?”

Johnny’s playful look turned to a look of concern.

“And you decided to come outside and have a staring competition with your reflection?”

Junebug stayed silent. Johnny knew, they both had their insecurities, despite how hard they tried to act human, how they rebuilt themselves and colored in the empty spots, how they could never get the paint to fully cover up the seams on their limbs.

“....Can you put me down now?”

She immediately realized her mistake, and kicked herself for her words.

“Right here?”

She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, He was always the better swimmer.

“Right here?”

“JoHNNy DoN’T YoU DArE”

He only released his grip just a little bit, but she still frantically tried to pull herself closer to him.

“CRICKET.”

“What? You told me to put you down-” He shrugged. “I’m just doing what my Junebug wants.”

“YOUKNOWDAMNWELLTHATSNOTWHATIMEANT.”

She only stopped her frantic attempts to stay as close as possible to him when she felt his arms wrap tightly around her waist again.

“Request rescinded?” Johnny got her on the chin this time.

Junebug buried her face in his shoulder to hide her embarrassment. Thank god it was only her and Johnny, for her own sake. He was the only one that ever got to see her like this, that ever got to truly make her laugh or be there when she needed comfort. Those quiet, private moments were the only moments they dropped the act and got comfortable.

And they liked it that way.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“....Gross.”

The Blue-haired one stuck out her tongue.

The purple-haired one shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Shut up, you’ll blow our cover.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just take them now.” The blue-haired one whispered to the other. “They’re right there, there’s nobody else around-”

The purple-haired one pointed towards the house, making sure not to move past the shrubs they were using to hide behind.

“And there are houses with god knows how many security systems. Do you know what would happen if we got caught?”

The blue-haired one rolled her eyes and replied mockingly, “The boss will get in trouble and then we’ll get scrapped because yada yada bad company publicity.”

“Finally, you’re using your processor.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before the blue-haired one spoke again.

“...but they’re right there. We could get this done now-”

The purple-haired one turned to face her, a hand on his hips as he snarled.

“Do you have the narcotics on you?”

The blue-haired one glared back in an angry silence.

“Hey, Tempest?” She cocked her head. “How about you kiss my-”

The collars around their necks beeped quietly before she could finish her challenging insult. The blue-haired one groaned in annoyance.

“We’re done for tonight anyway.”

The blue-haired one snuck one last glance at the two oblivious bodies down the hill, only turning her attention away when Tempest quietly called for her.

“Surge! Leaving now!”

An excited, absolutely wicked smile crossed Surge’s face as she trailed into the woods after Tempest, cackling under her synthetic breath.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

[ii-strange-confessions]

Atychiphobia Part 5 - Funding for This Program

[NOTE: sorry if it's hard to tell which character is talking, i can color it later]

2 YEARS AGO

“Lambda. Rho. My 2 best employees.” The vice president was stern. “I’ve brought you here to-”

“Discuss the pure strange matter generator?” Rho said cheerily. “I only need a few more months to finish it, maybe a year or two by myself-”

“We’re bankrupt, Rho. We’re bankrupt! And I can’t rely on your strange way of gathering energy. You still haven’t told me where you get that. But-”

“Kidnapping Electrons. It’s surprisingly easy to harvest raw electricity from them.”

“...But it doesn’t matter. We’re shutting down SaAM.”

“WHAT!?”

“Rho, we’re bankrupt.” Lambda still had no emotion in her voice.

“Yeah, what Lambda said.” The vice president sighed. “I’m gonna miss this place. It sucked, but I’m gonna miss this place a lot.”

“But sir, the project!”

“Is cancelled! We don’t have funding, it’s that simple. We can throw the strange matter into the vitrified basements, that’s nothing important. You have one day to get your belongings, I don’t care about the other employees. Go.”

“Yes, sir.” Lambda walked away.

“But... but-”

“Just go, Rho. This place is worthless.” The vice president started walking away.

“...Fine.” Rho knew they wouldn’t keep that promise. They had too much work to do.

PRESENT DAY

A knock came from Delta’s door. “Hello. We’re looking for an electron named Delta.”

They opened the door. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Heys, dont nots be mad at mes!” Strangelet and Lambda stood at the door.

“I’m not.” Delta looked at Lambda. “Who came with you.”

“Lambda. Coworker 7 years ago. It’s likely that you’ve rebirthed so you don’t remember me.”

“Oh.” Delta’s face stayed neutral. “Why do you need me?”

“Rho is building a strange matter machine that will kill us all if we don’t stop it.”

“WHATS??? You did no tell mes that!?”

“Because there was a reasonable chance you’d run away.”

“But whyyyyyyys...”

Delta looked confused. “That doesn’t explain why you need me. I’m not really. Useful here.”

“Doesn’t matter. I need as many people I can.”

“but whys did you picks delta? theyr mean...”

“I’m mean? I barely remember... Oh.” Their neutral expression faded. “I’m... sorry about that-”

“Well i dons fourgive you!!!!!” Strangelet looked proud of themselves.

“...Whatever.” Their emotion faded again.

Lambda grabbed Delta and started walking. “We need to go now.”

“Oh.”

“Why were yous all the way o over here anywa... anyways???”

“Bored of the city. Granted, the grasslands aren’t much better.”

“But wes w were trying to finds you for sooooooooo, ooooooooo long!!!”

“...I didn’t know you were looking for me.” Their tone became aggressive.

“Well i thinks tha-”

“We’re here.” Lambda said.

The facility towered above them. It had became overgrown with plants with little specks of strange matter.

“wha..? dat was fast.”

“Eh, I guess time flies when you’re talking with a brat.” Delta wasn’t smiling.

“Heys!”

Lambda tore the door open with it’s glove. “The non-testing rooms are useless now. You may destroy things if you need to.”

“Woahs... this i is so cool!”

“I don’t... remember this. Do I?” Delta was in discomfort. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.” They picked up a sharp piece of broken concrete.

Lambda didn’t respond. “Second basement, room 212.”

“whoa- Dis place has twoooo basements???”

“7. Don’t enter the lower ones, they haven’t been touched for decades.”

“awwwws...”

Their steps echoed down the stairs. Lambda stayed stern. “Be careful, they’ve likely set down traps that-” Lambda’s glove barely caught a flying piece of glass. “Rho.”

“Ah, Lambda!” The neutron looked strangely happy as they always had. “...And Delta.”

“excuse me who is this person”

“A n.. new friend!!”

“Not a friend.”

“Lambda, what do you mean I’m not a friend? Oh right, we’re ‘coworkers’ to you.”

“Stop stalling.”

“Really, Lambda? But there’s so much to talk about! Like the strangelet specimen you have! And Delta.”

“Wha- who even are you?”

“Ah, you must’ve rebirthed. Makes sense, knowing you.”

“...Lambda when can we kill this person”

Rho frowned. “Lambda, you can drop the act now. I know you doubted me, but this is-”

*-BEEP- Machine 221 Charging Finished. Machine 221 Startup Initiated. Machine 221 5 Minutes until Initiation.* A machine near Rho started spinning.

The neutron grinned. “...Interrupted. Rude. But it doesn’t matter-”

“Okay, what the hell is this??” The electron shouted.

“Ah, yes, you see, that strangelet there isn’t really a strangelet.”

“Heys! i am the strangelet!!”

“Ah, it has a mind. Fascinating, but worthless. Anyways, real strange matter would destroy the world in a matter of hours. Which is what im making. But don’t worry, I’ve got some material that can store it.”

“...WHAT.” Delta exclaimed.

“oh dont worries they can stores it! but i AM a a real strange let...”

Lambda sighed. “We don’t know if we can store it. The test is too risky.”

“But imagine what we could do with it! You may call me insane, but at least I know I’m a genius.”

Rho continued monologuing. “Delta, Rho’s the only one with the password to shut this down, and we can’t convince him with words.”

“Are you suggesting we...?” Delta pointed at strangelet.

“No.” Lambda shot at Rho with her glove, but their ray stopped suddenly. Rho didn’t even notice. “They have a shield. Yes. Yes we need to use Strangelet now.”

“did somebodies say m my name????”

“...Strangelet.” Delta spoke cautiously. “That neutron. Is the only person that can stop that machine from doing bad things. Mean. Things. But he’s not going to stop it willingly. So, we need you to-”

“No.”

Delta was confused. “Strangelet, what do you mean-”

“No. I’m not goings to hurt him. dat.. that guy has the life and i cants hurt him be because thats mean and ruin s his life!”

Lambda stepped in. “Strangelet-”

“A and im not going to let myself b be used again! youres just delta, and delta 2... the meanier one!”

“what the fuck man”

Lambda glanced at Delta. “It’s no use talking to them at this point. Rho’s distracted, so we’ll need to attack him physically.”

“Oh. I can’t... really... my tail is burnt.”

“...I’m going to kill you after this.”

Lambda walked up to Rho. “And so you can’t just heat up the neutron matter, you have to-” They punched him in the face, although it seemed somewhat weak. “o-OW, wh-LAMBDA, really?? I knew you were salty, but this is a NEW LOW, you know I never really liked you anyway-” It shoved Rho on the ground, him easily getting back up. “Ok. Rude. Whatever, It’s not like you’re gonna kill me-”

Lambda grabbed Rho by the neck. “Rho. Tell me how to turn off this thing or I WILL kill you and shut it off myself, potentially destroying the world. Likely ending the world.”

“Well. You think quite one-dimensionally.” Rho pulled a taser out and shocked Lambda, freeing himself. “Given that you’ll likely be forever unstable and crippled, this wasn’t my favorite option. But hey, you did try to kill me, and at least you’ll be more like Charm now.”

“What- you know them??”

Rho had a bored expression as Lambda attempted to pull themselves up. “Of course you idiot, they worked here. I’m surprised you still know them after rebirthing. Whatever, they’re not my problem.”

“whats... thats kind ofs mean...”

*-BEEP- 1 Minute until Initiation*

“it has not been 4 minutes”

“Eh, I MAY or may not have sped up the process. In any case, how did you make a strangelet this dumb? Did you just infect a child with brain damage or something? Whatever, doesn’t matter.”

“Now y-youres being means to me’s! ...Was Delta rights?”

“Uh, yeah?” Delta was fidgeting with a broken piece of stone. “He’s kinda about to. End the world. Which hasn’t really registered in my mind so far...”

“Ohhhh... I can’t just hurt rhos, that would be m mean! Gasp! Lightbulb brains!”

“what”

“I have the ideas!” Strangelet floated over and touched the strange matter machine. “Sees? Now everyone will b-be safe and... sounds!”

Rho noticed the strangelet. “Uhhhh that’ll be fine. I think.”

“...strangelet what have you done”

An alarm went off. *Warning: Machine 221 Unstable. Halting Initiation. Self Destruction Likeliness: 103%*

Lambda was up again. “Delta, get behind me!” It’s glove sputtered.

“This... can’t be happening.”  Rho dropped to the ground. “What have you absolute buffoons DONE!?”

Cracks started appearing in the machine. Bright light came out of them, until-

Delta coughed. “What.. what happened?” Strange matter surrounded them.

“I-I-I- TRIed... are yo-U infected?” Lambda’s glove was smoking, and a red light strobed on their backpack-like machine.

“No...? Are you? It doesn’t... seem like it.”

“auehh... my eyes hurts... Woahs! Theres so much of, of mes around!”

“Just your strange matter at least. ...Lambda, are you okay?”

“I-I don’t. Kno-O-O-w. My stabilizer is fail-I-Ing, and I can’t repl-A-ce it. ...Is this ho-W Charm feels? I nev-Er-Er-Er understood them. I supPOSE that was a mis-ta-a-ke.”

“I’ve only talked to Charm for like one minute are they a god here.”

“N-O? This is a-A scientific workPLA-A-ACe.”

“That was a joke.”

“Oh.” Lambda took it’s glove off. “I have n-OO idea how-How to fix that. Doesn’t matteR-R. It’s just a tooL.”

“We should probably leave this basement. I don’t want the strange matter dropping on us.”

“Fair.”

“And everyones live happily ever.. ever after. Yaaaaaay! Whuh- whys you standing there, Del... Delta.”

They were holding some sort of gun. It had the words ‘Strange Matter Acceleration Shotgun Device’ ingrained on it. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m still coming.”

“Okays! I still donts comPLETELY forgive yous tho...”

“Whatever.” They looked at the gun. “Just in case...”

“Those IDIOTS destroying my genius invention and turning me into a... whatever.” Rho was half-converted by strange matter. “But it’s fine, Rho. You can still work on this again. Even if you only have one arm to use. Good thing I still have those electron corpses. At least the explosion likely didn’t affect any of the vitrified tests.”

Rho was wrong. Multiple floors under him, beneath hundreds of corpses, a cryogenic storage door opened.

“Trrrrrrrrrrr...”

[Was made possible by viewers like you. Thank you.]

[kentuckycaverats]

NOLA by Night

Session 2: AMAB (All Mages Are Bastards)

Session 1

The coterie takes an unofficial, self-guided tour of Biograde Technologies in search of Maxence.

It's 2am. 4 hours to sunrise.

Ira is adamant that Max is wherever Silas came from, and therefore connected to the Masquerade breach at the radio station. Silas said that he'd been in some kind of lab; Klay wonders if it might have been hunters who had him, messed with him, turned him loose, and hijacked the station to draw attention to it.

Klay spends a point of Resources for a contact at a medical supply warehouse and asks if there have been any unusual requests lately. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the contact reads off some of the item descriptions and a shipment of microchips catches Klay's interest. He asks for the address for that delivery: it belongs to one Biograde Technologies, located in the biomedical district. Klay knows that name--the Hecata primogen, Sergio Giovanni, works for Biograde.

Klay explains microchips to Ira, who realizes Silas may very well be chipped. Florian is sent to rendezvous with Silas and Cameron to warn them while the coterie pays Biograde a visit.

Klay asks wraith Charles to knock out the external cameras that Ira and Walter identify. Ira notices several more inside. The office is closed but the lobby lights are still on, populated by 1 receptionist and 2 security guards--all mortal. Jules and Klay easily disarm them with an Awe + Cloud Memory combo and the coterie is in.

Jules finds a building map on the wall:

5: Employee Lounge

4: Data Lab

3: HR, Marketing, Legal

2: (You Are Here) Storage, Supplies, Labs

1: [unlabeled]

Unlabeled basement is weird. The water table in NOLA doesn't really allow for building underground. The coterie pokes around on Floor 2 (sure enough, mostly medical supplies and empty labs) and Klay liberates some bleach, some sedatives, and 3 syringes. Just in case. Then they head into the basement.

It's a large concrete room and it's completely empty. No furniture, no decor, no equipment, nothing. Klay detects no wraiths in the vicinity. Jules sings to test the acoustics of the room but detects no abnormalities. Even with Heightened Senses, Ira can't hear anyone else in the building; nor can he hear the vibrations or beeping of any fancy machines. There's nothing here. Just a big, empty slab of cement.

Walter can tell by scent that there was something here recently, though. A number of mammals, and they were here no more than 48 hours ago. He and Klay also notice something sticking out a bit from the floor--what seems to be a pressure plate.

Ira intentionally triggers Premonition and notices a faint swirling residue, almost like an afterimage, of some sort of magical...energy? signature?

Walter steps on the pressure plate. The basement door autolocks behind the coterie and the room starts to fill with water. Sewage water, by the smell of it. Coterie isn't too bothered on account of not breathing air and Klay sends Charles to open the door from the outside. Charles warns them to watch their step on the way out; as they come through the doorway the coterie sees a long cable suspended from the ceiling and snaking under the doorway. The end is frayed and sparking.

Ira sees that same afterimage on the wall; fresher and more distinct here. He commits it to memory so he can paint it later.

Ira and Walter each know a bit about mages; enough to know that mages tend to specialize in certain fields, and that Space is one such specialization. Maybe that's how they're moving their test subjects undetected...

Ira is starting to unravel. He's convinced that Max was here, and that whoever has him moved him tonight, maybe mere hours before the coterie arrived. He tells the coterie he met some mages at Cafe du Monde shortly after waking from torpor; an older woman who called herself Nana and a young redheaded girl called Lily. They'd said they had a message from Ira's sire, Mary, but that in order to hear it Ira would have to allow them to temporarily sever his connection to the Cobweb. He refused, suspicious of both the mages' intentions and Mary's. Mary notoriously loathes mages, a bias she instilled in Ira as well; the idea of her cooperating with mages is unheard of. And on the off chance that it really is her, well, maybe she shouldn't have stuck Ira in torpor for 80 years if she wanted him to return her calls.

Ira doesn't know how to get back in touch with Nana and Lily, though, only that they play chess together every Sunday at the cafe. That's still two nights away. He isn't sure they're even related to Max's plight, but they're the only true mages he knows.

Jules, Klay, and Walter convince Ira to let them poke around upstairs to see if they can find some more tangible leads. Florian calls Walter and tells him they did find a microchip in Silas, and that the coterie should probably come meet them on Basin Street as soon as they can. That's where everyone's gone missing.

The coterie raids the employee lounge (Klay steals some top shelf tequila for his ghoul Missy and Jules loads up on Biscoff cookies for her touchstone Eden) but no one is good enough with computers to hack the desktops there. Walter steals hard drives from 2 of them instead, and a couple from the data lab desktops for good measure. Some of his clanmates will be able to sort through those.

Jules and Klay hit another Awe + Cloud Memory combo on the receptionist and security guards, and the coterie leaves Biograde without issue to go meet up with Florian and the lupines.

Silas is more lucid now that he's had a few hours for the sedatives to wear off. There are still gaps in his memory, but he remembers being out here near Basin St, smelling blood, talking to a sad brunette girl with a long braid down her back, feeling a weird tingling in his feet, and suddenly being in a big cage. After that he was out for awhile--he doesn't know how long--and when he came to a dashing French dude with a magnificent beard was cutting him loose and demanding that Silas go find a rabbit monster. He bit Silas, who frenzied, and next thing Silas knew his paws were tingling and he was outside again.

Only an hour till sunrise. There's nothing more that can be done tonight. Klay offers for Ira to stay at the shop with him so he isn't alone overnight, but Ira declines. He needs to go home and paint. He needs to. Florian will go with him for emotional support.

The coterie plans to meet up the following night to strategize and debrief. Walter will have some intel on the hard drives by then, Florian on the sedative and microchip, and the lupines will try to wrangle up some muscle.

And hey, Klay suggests...maybe the coterie ought to start thinking about securing a shared haven.

[fortecircuit]

Name:N.V Age:19 (physically) Height: 5'5 (can fluctuate) Attribute: Electro Weapon: Modified Rectifier Class: Currently not applicable Affiliations:Jinzhou,Huaxu Academy Family:"NOVA" (sister--deactivated/deleted) Creator:Doctor ,███ warren

Personality:Kind ,curious,helpful,nervous ,uncertain, cautious,determined,a little bit filled with spite

An artificial intelligence assistant,used to cover up a scheme by researchers (that were secretly working with the Fractsidus unbeknownst to N.V), Very kind ,bright,and hard working N.V does his best to be there when needed and to prove himself with his tasks

Forte Examination Report:

Resonance Power: Digital transference

Resonance Evaluation Report: The exact time for resonator N.V's awakening is unknown , his use of forte however was discovered recently his tacet mark is located on his upper forearm .

His forte can seemingly allow him to interact with objects in his holographic form,as well as allow him to make similar digital copies of them though range of what can and cant be copied is currently limited but is also still being tested,He currently uses the projectors within the academy and in his terminal for these tests.

Overclock Diagnostic Report: Undetermined as there's still not a very concrete way to keep track of N.Vs overclocking risk due to his unclear Resonance Spectrum Pattern he will need to be examined closely.

As of right now his condition seems to be stable, Regular physical examinations are mandatory ,as well as occasional psychological counseling.

Mini bio:

Created by a man named Dr.Warren to be used as a cover up a scheme ,N.V is a very kind eager to collaborate on whatever he could as well as taught (though he mostly ended up learning to operate thanks to his sister nova) but he was usually met with cold eyes ,from the doctor (and his colleagues) N.V could never full understand why until one day everything seemed to just go wrong.

One minute hes active getting things done - the next alarms are going of people are scattering ,being told NOVAs gone and NV would be left behind,before he could even get a word in everything went dark--dark and quiet for a very long time.

Until one day he's awake again,everything is still dark but the machines are active..though they look unrecognizable to the ones he remembers,N.V sees if he can run a data search,finding out hes been put into some sort of system to an academy...

[acestories]

So, I know this isn't technically my writing blog (though I could make it), but I'm working on a story that I feel like at least someone here will like.

"In some ways the world hasn’t changed; Karens still scream at grocery store clerks for no reason, Douchebags think they own the roads, and the sun continues to rise every morning. But, it’s definitely changed; people fly through the air on their own, a car mechanic lifts the car he’s working on with his bare hand, and a thief outruns a squad of police cars. 

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. 2020 was terrible already, but as if that wasn’t enough it had one last fucking piece of shit to throw in our faces. Christmas night, there was a violet star in the sky. By new years eve, it had become a sun. By new years day, a violet mist that brought with it plague, one with a 10% mortality rate, and the rich and powerful hid themselves away from it. As they always did.

But as it turned out, ⅕ of those who survived it got what could only be called Superpowers. And very few of the rich and powerful got Superpowers. The inevitable started to happen. 

And where do I fit into all of this? Well, I'm the ñonbinary cat boy waiting for their take out to be ready. What? Just because I got Superpowers doesn't mean I don't want tacos. And these guys make a gochujang teriyaki sauce that is to die for. And I'm not gonna let some random ass fuck wad villain destroy this place, I can't recreate the sauce! 

The villain (who I think called himself Syndrome or some shit like that, I can't rememeber) charged at me, fist raised high. I'm able to dodge at the last minute, the concrete street corner shattering as it took the blow, which when combined with my latest bruises, are enough to tell me that this guy has one of those Escalating Strength powers in addition to the basic stuff.

Gotta take them out fast, before they start punching Blackholes or something. I think someone can do that?

The villain starts monologuing; ooooooh, his name is "Symptom." That's actually kinda cool, I gotta admit. Regardless, thank fuck this guy is long winded. Or really into L.A.R.P.ing. 

Doesn't matter now though; I charge at him with the speed of a bullet and unleash a flurry of blows. After a few seconds of what sounds like a machine gun going off, he starts to fall backwards, a look of surprise on his big stupid, neck-bearded face.

Heh, I caught him Monologuing. Guess that makes me a sly cat instead of a sly dog. :D

Oh yeah, the cat parts. While only ⅕ of survivors got super powers, over half of survivors got "fantasy bits." I got turned into a cat boy, but I've seen people with other parts. Someone I went to high-school with got turned into an Orc. 

Oh, and these things aren't a package deal, but there is enough overlap that it's testing fate to make a cat girl angry. So the Boomer who's screaming and making threats at me for not saving his car is either really brave or really stupid. I'm betting on the latter. 

Regardless, my food is ready and I wish to return home, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

[yama-uba]

At my current age, I know 3 things about myself for sure: I can't dwell on anything (especially before bed), I can't have plums and beets, and I never follow the first two prohibitions. Because of the abundance of thoughts about Paralives, last night I dreamed that I was an intern at PS.

The first thing I remember is that I was introduced to the development team, an analyst, and a tester. And then the team leader asked how I did my "homework" on getting to know the project. I said that I was interested in the fact that they decided to make a mechanic where individual light bulbs in lighting fixtures can burn out and parafolk can buy a separate, suitable light bulb for some objects and screw it in. ATTENTION: I doubt that this will be implemented in the game - it was only part of my dream. And then I asked, if we deepen the home gameplay towards realistic household chores, then can we find out how the mechanism of breakdown and the mechanism of clogging of plumbing is implemented, including sinks/baths/washing machines/boilers, and not just toilets, because a clog is not just a leaky flush tank.

There was an awkward pause and I continued asking questions in an attempt to ease the tension. "Will the game implement a system of water pipes and drainage, which would limit the placement of plumbing?", "Will we create an electrical circuit for the house, where all energy consumers should be taken into account, including sockets and light switches?", "What kind of heating will be preferable in the land of parafolk: radiators, convectors, air conditioners or a warm sweat system?", "Will sources of cold and heat in the house be taken into account, such as tiled floors, doors to the street and a chimney of a fireplace on the upper floors?", "What is the maximum length of a floor in the game and will it be possible to create a panel, frame, brick, monolithic reinforced concrete house and a house-hybrid of construction technologies?" I also asked a bunch of questions that I have already forgotten.

Everyone was looking at me. And then my boss said, "You know, we haven't even thought about this until now. Your first task is to formulate a concept and create a prototype for our focus group and testing of this idea this week." I was very surprised by this deadline. Considering that 1 of these 5 days was already coming to an end, I was assured that this time was more than enough and, as soon as I got the hang of the project, I would be able to do all this in 24 hours.

Then there was a typical "strange work day" in a dream, where it turned out that the junior programmer assigned to me to help with the implementation turned out to be a goose. I mean, he was not anthropomorphic, but a real live, white goose (and, if you look at it from another point of view, he was a really talented programmer, capable of writing code according to my idiotic technical task). As is customary in any dreams, the only thing that confused me was that his name was Steve (this name is associated with very difficult to communicate with people, like Jobs and cases from my experience, but Steve-goose was not only a competent employee, but also a pleasant person).

Somewhere on the 4th day of my work and hard crunch on studying the sewerage system of an American private house together with a goose, I began to sleep right at the meeting. My boss noticed this and asked me if I thought our parafolk personality profile system, which was a complete homage to the Sims 2 character system, was boring. I said that the OCEAN system was good, of course, but I would add to these 5 traits the missing traits from the HEXACO system (and added some other traits that I came up with at that moment, which brought their number to 9), and also returned the Yunk typology, but would make it not a "zodiac sign", but a lifestyle, and also added that very "passion for some activity" from the Hobbies DLC. At that moment, I forgot about fetishes and taboos (as always in a dream).

The team leader loved the idea, but everyone else sighed heavily. He crossed out all his old notes on the wall and started drawing everything again. Steve, sitting next to me at the daily, stretched out his long neck and whispered that this person was both the project's best hope for getting out of beta and the local Elon Musk. So I had to be extremely careful with my "bouts of creativity."

The boss saw this and asked what was missing in my character system for the base game. I said that the fear system from Sims 2 needs to be developed into a full-fledged mechanic. Like there are fears (rational fear of something), and there are phobias (irrational fear). And we could get a lot of interesting multi-layered systems with intrapersonal conflicts of parafolk, like real people. For example, a person who dreams of becoming a superstar (because his mother wanted him to), but is afraid of the stage. And that this would give more replayability with a small amount of starting content for stories: a phobia could arise during the game due to the player's actions, due to being in society with parafolk with this phobia, be hidden from the player (the character knows about his fear), hidden from both the player and the character (latency period). I was asked to list the options:

Thalassophobia - (homage to Sims 2);

Cynophobia (dogs);

Nyctophobia (darkness);

Acrophobia (heights);

Verminophobia (bacteria)

Claustrophobia and Agarophobia (closed and open spaces);

I named half a dozen more phobias that I could remember, including trypophobia. And then I came up with the concept that we need to make a family of pre-mades, where the only toddler will have absolutely all the realized phobias, which will constantly exhaust his parents, but at the same time this same child will heroically save his family, neighbors and acquaintances from dangers and be a "reinsurer hen". This impressed everyone. Especially my boss. … He said that I have 3 days to give them a finished sample so that they can decide whether to do it. I said that I can't. To which the boss assured me that it's okay, because I can do it on the weekend. Steve, who had previously been kind to me, said that he could only help with the mechanics of the house, and this task was beyond his strength.

It seems that this is where my career in game development ended, because I don't remember much after that. But I do remember that I woke up thinking, "I slept through my alarm! Steve now has to defend me in front of everyone else! We'll get fired! We don't have time for anything!" Maybe it's for the best that I didn't pursue a career in the game industry - this world already has enough Peter Molyneux.

...

I wonder if Steve was able to get promoted to middle programmer after such a quest…

[dzthenerd490]

File: Pikmin - Man-at-Legs

SCP#: AJE

Code Name: The Last Machine of the Last War

Object Class: Neutralized

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AJE was destroyed upon discovery however its anomalous parts were transported to Site-AA for extensive testing. It has been placed in a containment box that is stored in the anomalous technology storage unit. It is non anomalous in its current state and all that can be learned from it has already been learned as such it is taken out regularly for minor testing purposes. The AFA-1 units are programmed to protect it along with the other anomalous technology devices in the storage unit but not to prioritize it over other items and especially recognized SCP’s. 

Description: SCP-AJE at the time of activation was a strange arachnid-like creature that oddly only has four legs despite being an arachnid. One leg in particular is missing and the orb-like torso is heavily damaged with only some damaged arachnid organs remaining. Naturally this would leave SCP-AJE as a broken corpse had it not been augmented with a steam powered mechanical torso and a mechanical leg. The resulting organism stands only 40 inches tall but shockingly it possesses a gun that shoots an unlimited amount of small explosive bullets that fly and target like missiles. These missiles easily rip through flesh and destroy concrete with ease. There is unfortunately nothing else remarkable about SCP-AJE other than its anomalous origin. 

SCP-AJE was discovered in 2004 within one of the caves that was to be sealed by Mobile Task Force Hades-5 "Cave Crawlers". While fighting against SCP-AMZ, SCP-AJE appeared and started firing at the instances as well. SCP-AJE started firing at them and even hurt them, allowing the MTF Hades-5 units to seal the cave with a Kallivantium explosive. Unfortunately, SCP-AJE started attacking them well and even blew off one of their legs, so the other MTF units crushed it by stomping on it. Though it was concluded that SCP-AJE was not remarkably anomalous it was still an anomaly and thus the MTF units were punished by being assigned to cleaning duty to SCP-173 for a week. 

However Dr. Wobble decided to take a look further and somehow found an audio recording that revealed that SCP-AJE came from the future. Please see Addendum X-71 for details. 

***

Addendum X-71

The following is a recording found in an anomalous device found inside SCP-AJE’s remains. 

Begin Recording

“I don’t really know why I’m doing this anymore… The war is over… we lost… I guess I’m just hoping maybe there’s something or someone out there that will be intelligent enough to understand what I’m saying… We were stupid. We saw the threat but at the time it was so tiny we thought it was nothing. We had bigger threats, bigger worries, even things we didn’t know existed. Hell I only recently learned there were even living planets trying to kill us.

But still, we should have known better, big things always have small beginnings, and this threat started out very small but became pretty fucking big. This thing I built, it’s one of our last weapons I can make against it, not that it would do any good. We call it the [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council], not that anyone cares. We originally thought it was a small little water spirit but in reality, it was a big fucking parasite.

But not any parasite, it was a parasite that devoured entire worlds, it changes infects the water with itself mutating them into tiny but vicious creatures that swarm and kill all they see. Funny thing is, most were so tiny and easy to squish them. We realized too late that when they formed swarms they could tear an adult human apart. We were too focused on them that we didn’t see the bigger picture, it wasn’t just one place it was everywhere. The worst part is that we didn’t realize our water was infected until it was too late.

We established colonies in the solar system to escape but even our most outer reaching colonies were lost too. It didn’t just mutate bugs and plants but bacteria too, it created little monsters that ate people from the inside out. No one was safe so long as there was infected water.

Everyone and everything got wiped out so quickly because of that... I don’t know if anyone else is left, I just know my machines are still self-replicating and trying to kill as many of those freaks out there but honestly my resources are dwindling. Even putting aside, the materials I have left I don’t have much food either. I know I’m not going to live to see this end, and even if I could live longer there’s no way this shit will end so quickly.

So, if you're listening to this then that means my final plan didn’t work and your probably an alien or something trying to explore a dead planet. if you can understand my language or are smart enough to translate it, then get your friends and get out of here... But if any of you already drank the water then just stay here and find a way to die peacefully. But make sure no one ever comes looking for you and if they do, they know to stay away. All this thing needs is one drop of water, and it can mutate the wildlife of any planet it wants. I know you feel fine, and maybe you are, but if you value your species... you'll be willing to die and be forgotten for them.

But if you're not an alien but a human then my plan might have worked, unless your from my future in wich case we're still fucked... unless you somehow grew immunity to the water in which case more power to ya kid. Hope you become the adam of the new world and get yoruself an Eve... try not to fuck the world up like we did okay?

Though I'm really hoping your actually form the past because that means I really did save us. I was reviewing a file relating to something called SCP-AVM from this place called the SCP Foundation. Apparently, they were allies of the Global Occult Coalition but preferred to contain anomalies instead of just killing them. Very stupid idea if you ask me but I did hear they lasted the longest so they must have done something right. Anyways, when reviewing the file, I also found a document that talked about sending a signal that could send things back in time.

if I’m right then with the right frequency I can use what I got left to make a little time machine. I can send this little robot back in time and hopefully prevent any of this from happening. I’m still getting used to paratechnology and metaphysics so I’m not too sure how it all works right now but if my machines hold out long enough I can send this back and warn everyone to take out the [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council] before it grows large enough to kill us all and mutate our world.

So, if this really made it to the past and that’s who’s listening right now then takes these words to heart. You’ll know the [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council] when you see it, trust me. But when you see it, don’t fuck around this time, kill it. But you can’t just kill it in a normal way, there’s only one weapon that can kill them and it’s the Pikmin. I don’t know exactly what they are, but I have read lots of reports that they were the only thing that hurt it. So, if you find this Pikmin thing, use it and kill the damn [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council]. Because if you don’t everyone fucking dies. Your decision is Humanity’s only hope.”

Recording Ends

***

The O5 Council allowed Site Director Nancy James full custody of SCP-AEK and allowed her free reign in further experiments regarding SCP-AEK instances in response to the recording. If such a danger truly is coming and the SCP-AEK instances are the only means of destroying it then it must be done. Site Director Nancy James is to be allowed access to any further resources that can assist her and her SCP-AEK instances. 

“I just want to make it clear that I fucking called it! I knew the SCP-AEK instances were going to save the world one day! Though we still don’t know exactly when that day is, I'm at least glad to know that everything I’ve been doing so far is right on track! Whatever the hell this [Data Expunged by Order of the O5 Council] is, I’ll make sure my little guys can take it out.” -Site Director James.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[android-anthology-hub]

A Robot and a Girl - Part 2

So continuing on with the updates, here's part 2 of A Robot and a Girl. With the engineer tied up, it was time for D'Anna to find who she'd came looking for.

You can of course also check out this chapter on Fiction Press and Tapas.

She could feel the circuits firing as she tapped the card, the tool chest sliding out along the wall.

The room beyond was lined with storage stalls, five of them full. The back of the room was some kind of loading bay, the sounds of the transport lanes just beyond its rolling door. Each mech was held firmly in place with straps, their heads hanging low, without power.

D’Anna clenched her fists as she walked down the line, the lights flickering on overhead.

Just how long had he been running like this?

“Most of these are archer mechs, combat models,” she muttered to herself, frowning in thought.

She stopped at the last stall before the loading dock, running a hand over the scorched metal of the mech’s chest plate. 

They were an RC-N model, exactly who she was looking for… 

The engineer had pulled out their power cell, leaving it on a small table built into the stall. With a grunt, she pulled open their chest plate and slotted it back inside. Its circuits flickered to life as she twisted the cell into place. She could hear their systems warming up as she closed them back up.

“Rosi?” she asked, stepping back as their eyes came online, pulsing as they regarded her.

“You–” their voice box crackled. “You…know my name?”

She gave them a small smile as she undid the straps, “Somebody missed you a lot when you disappeared. Sweet lady asked me to find you.”

As the last strap came off they stepped free of the stall, arms turning and clicking in sturdy shoulder joints.

Rosi tested and flexed their hands after being bound so long, tilting their head inquisitively as they spoke, “You know Cole?”

“I’m gonna get you back to her,” D’Anna said, meeting their eyes as they studied her.

They clenched their hands at their sides, looking around at the other stalls.

“What about them? What will happen to them?” they asked, watching as she studied the other models.

“I’ve got a friend that can take them in-” she ran a hand along the chest of one of the archer mechs, their body brand new. “-I won’t leave them behind.”

“Do you mean that,” Rosi asked, towering over her as they stood at her side.

She took their hand in hers and squeezed until her nerves ached, the servos in her knuckles whining.

“I give you my word, Rosi. They’ll be safe,” she said softly.

Rosi stared at her for a long time, longer than most would be comfortable with.

It was a look that asked too many questions. A look that held thought behind it. It reminded her that even a machine like them, a workhorse, was alive.

“You surprise me,” was all Rosi said.

D’Anna gripped the hem of her coat, thumb trailing along the once white synth-silk, long since dyed red.

She looked back at them with a smile, irises glinting as she spoke, “That’s a good thing, Rosi, thank you…” she rubbed her hands together with a small chuckle, “Now, let’s get the rest of ‘em online, shall we?”

The Gardens were always warm, humidity dripping from the solar shaft’s machinery. Greenery grew along the walls, vibrant in the sunlight that spilled in from above.

The air rushed past D’Anna as the corridors of the city opened up into the Gardens’ wide open spaces, sunlight glinting off her glasses. She shaded her eyes as she let her circuits adjust to the natural light.

“So it’s morning already?” she muttered to herself, knocking her glasses up as she kneaded at her brow.

She would never get used to seeing so much growth outside the Towers. Vines and branches wound their way around metal and concrete, cleaning the air for the rest of the city. But that wasn’t all it did.

She could see people tending gardens mounted on the walls, picking fruits and leaves that thrived in the sunlight. Flowers bloomed in planters along the path she was walking, an absolute riot of color. She could see traders setting out their wares, gardeners gathering their harvest, and engineers readying their equipment.

“Looks like a smuggler drop’s coming,” D’Anna hummed, glancing up at Rosi beside her.

Rosi gave a sage nod, then tilted their head in confusion as they spoke, “Smuggler drop?”

She nodded towards the massive airshaft that dominated the space, climbing towards open sky.

“You’ll see,” she said. “We should hurry, we don’t want to get in the way, trust me.”

They looked back to their fellow mechs, the other four giving Rosi a questioning look. And Rosi just splayed their hands in a small, helpless, gesture.

D’Anna frowned in thought as she looked around, circuits whirring as her eyes scanned around the space. She let out a soft sigh as she found what she was looking for, a yellow diamond marked on the nearby wall. She laid a hand over the marker, the paint still pretty new, and turned till she found the next.

This wasn’t where the path was last time she was here… She’d have to ask about that later.

She waved for Rosi and the others to follow, tucking her hands away as her eyes traced from one diamond to the next. The gardens continued to hum with activity. The tension building to an event she knew all too well. She continued to follow the trail, her eyes scanning about

Her eyes scanned about, racing along the trail until she found a familiar sight. Hidden in the branches and vines was an alcove, a small door marked with that same golden yellow beckoning her. She could hear the rumbling overhead, the electric hum of engines.

Bell tones rang out all around the shaft as several aerial craft started their descent. Their atmo-drivers whipped the wind into a frenzy as they hovered. Men and women barked orders, machines creaked and groaned, landing pads sliding out from where they’d been hidden amongst the green.

A young woman’s voice crackled out all around the Gardens, “Starting the clock, ninety minutes.”

The crews clicked on their watches, small screens flickering to life. And all counted down-

-90-

The moment a craft landed, the smuggler crews went to work, opening panels and pulling their contraband from their hiding places.

-87-

Others opened their cargo bays as they descended, barkers leaning out to announce their wares.

-81-

Mechanics raced out to meet them, trading work for whatever they had to offer.

-counting down the small window till sector security took notice.

D’Anna flashed a small smile as she watched everyone go to work, bringing goods to trade and sell.

Before she came here, she had never seen anything quite like it. She’d hated the chaos back then, but now she could see the beauty in it. The people here were full of life, brimming with ideas. Now, she could hardly imagine any other sight that brought a smile to her face quite like this.

She turned to Rosi and the others, one hand still in her coat pocket while the other tapped against the door.

“That-” she said with a nod to the organized chaos around them. “-is a smuggler drop.”

Himari was probably hard at work already.