#control the mimic

[zero-artz]

When you find no good merch from a fandom your in so you make the design yourself 😔

[heybiji]

new rival teen hero just dropped

(claiming to be the #1 superhero in the city while wearing a discount Halloween costume)

[mwolf0epsilon]

Fun Mimic Fact of the Day: Mimics are a lot more intelligent than most people give them credit. Especially the zoologists who are adamant on defending the specialised animal vs folklore beast theory.

Sure, there is an argument to be had that some species of primates, octopi, dolphins and parrots are good examples of animals displaying higher problem solving capabilities, as well as an awareness of language and cooperation within an established "society/social group". Giving some credence to the hypothesis.

But these examples still lack the refinement and sense of awareness that a mimic displays when comfortable among humans.

This is what convinces those who work with mimics more personally that they are, in fact, fae and not mere animals. Especially when working in railways that are in favour of conservation efforts (the NWR being a prime example), or within households that have had one vehicle mimic for generations.

People who have a lot of contact with mimics (especially older/elderly ones), will notice mannerisms and actions that surpass basic animal intellect or even acts of mimicry.

Here are a few examples:

Charlie Sand and Sidney Hever participate in a children's reading program at the library. They have both witnessed Edward (who they loan to the library in his smaller form so that children with learning disabilities and speech impediments have the opportunity to read to him) not only speaking in clear English, but also read paragraphs when the child that is meant to be reading to him can't seem to pronounce the words.

Sir Topham Hatt has watched Glynn work the kettle and prepare himself tea, as well as help himself to the radio when he's had to work from home.

The station-masters have noticed that, whenever they forget to feed the various cats that linger around the various stations around the island, someone comes in and does it for them (leaving behind a trail of opened cat food bags and cans). They can't be sure, but they have their suspicions that Gordon might be the one picking up their slack, because the cats all come to greet him when he comes by as if he were one of them.

The Duke and Duchess of Boxford once gave Spencer some old newspapers for him to entertain himself (thinking he'd just rip them up and roll around on the shredded paper) only to find someone had filled in all the crosswords and cut out sections of the funnies or interesting articles.

Hiro appears to know sign language. At the very least, he seems to use his paws to make very defined gestures when interacting with his crew. Whether or not this is a form of mimic dialect or Japanese sign language is currently unknown, since very few people on Sodor knows how to speak Japanese much less know JSL.

Mimics who participated in the war efforts both recognize and understand military slang and morse code. Flying Scotsman appears to be in the habit of using morse code to grumble about British Rail's incompetence, something which seems to amuse the occasional veteran that take his train to Vicarstown.

[ganondoodle]

(wip- rough concepts for the map layers etc for the totk rewritten/botw 2 project)

i hope its confusing enough with all three map layers plus some rough info all in one ngvfdjknvfdkjnvgkd

ultimately i want to take into consideration where towers and shrines where in botw to make use of that more directly, but this is a rough idea layout for all layers

(purple is underground, dark is sky islands, then theres the main map with the changes i got so far, main dungeons roughly marked- though they are varied in which layer they are- the settlements and the dragon paths- since i want all three dragons to fly in one map layer that matches their part of the trio)

not as interesting as the other concepts so far but it takes even more work than those to make this even if in a rough version so far

[callsign-mimic]

I need the 141 to take over my life like I'm their pet and they have to help me pretend to be a functional human

Price to organize and take me to appointments, making sure I take my meds and remember to eat (cause two of them kill my appetite)

Soap to make me follow through on promises to try to work out and get stretches done, sparring to burn up the pent up energy and frustration

Gaz to level me out and help me to focus on my hobbies and doing things I enjoy rather than doomscrolling on my phone

Ghost to give me a quiet place to tuck away for comfort when my brain is on fire and all I want to do it curl up and cry

Price to grab my face, squeezing my jaw to force my mouth open and place food on my tongue when I refuse to eat

Soap to pin me beneath him and force me to struggle and fight tooth and nail when my temper boils over and I start to lash out

Gaz to force me to sit in his lap, cockwarming him as I work on a crochet project that I hadn't touched in weeks

Ghost to drag one of his knives along my skin, just enough to break it and draw blood to quell the fire in my brain and finally force the tears to spill

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles part III bonus: the eclipse

(~2,8 k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

Every couple of years, there’s a total eclipse in this world. The moon is big, obscuring the sun in a horrible totality, entrapping it for what feels like too long. This is a big event, but not because people are eager to spectate the sky and bask in its weirdness. No, it has much worse connotations.

Because the eclipsed moon affects many of the hybrids. Especially the animal ones.

Hunters look forward to the eclipse because it promises a lot of loud, distressed, instinct-driven hybrids scattering about without many defences. They prepare traps specifically for this occasion and organise big hunting parties, eager for the upcoming bloodbath and bounty.

The eclipse happens mid-winter while Scar and Grian are on the server.

And it’s awful.

[cws violence, murder (no known characters), panic, mind-altering states and a loss of self control, haywire instincts, non-consensual manhandling, horrory vibes]

They don’t really know what is happening at first. Hermitcraft is a safe server which has many things coded differently, and because eclipses hurt many hybrids, they never happen there. So Scar and Grian have never experienced anything like this, and the yank it has on Grian’s state in particular is startingly sharp and terrifyingly confusing.

Scar himself is alright, because—and the two of them don’t know this at the time—vexes are immune to the eclipse. 

Actually, that’s not quite accurate. The eclipse helps heighten their magic.

They thrive.

Grian does anything but thrive.

His instincts go absolutely batshit haywire. He starts getting disoriented and incredibly uneasy, anxiety holding him in a choke hold, and all rationality and caution leave him, replaced by pure fear. 

He starts making inadvertent chirping sounds, panicked, and no matter what Scar says or does, Grian can’t seem to stop.

It’s so dark outside. And Grian’s chirping isn’t the only one that sounds through the forest.

In a world where they thought avians might be all nearly hunted to extinction, there are now suddenly, in this darkness, piercing faraway chirps. Just as panicked and lost-sounding as Grian’s own.

But those are not the only sounds the looming forest has to offer.

There’s also hollering and cheers. Whistles and barks. Twigs snapping under careless boots. Hunter parties following every single hybrid noise right to its source only to slice it shut. Shrill, chilling screams before some hybrid inevitably plunges into absolute, horrifying silence.

Scar’s desperately trying to get Grian to shush. He pleads him to stop, to be quiet. Tries to calm him down.

But it’s all futile. Grian has no control over himself. He can’t make it stop; it’s a wholly new kind of fear, overpowering and unfamiliar, yanking at his instincts. (It feels, a little bit, like a huge moon crashing down while the ground underneath him shakes and disintegrates.) (It feels like locking eyes with someone and not being sure if he’ll ever get to see them again.) (It feels like apocalypse. Like the end.) (His mind screams at him and he can’t help but scream along with it.)

Scar wonders if he should put a hand over Grian’s mouth. He doesn’t know what to do, but the hunters are out there, in large numbers, tireless and eager, and Grian’s voice is now the beacon luring them over, pinging with their exact location.

Grian is slowly backing away, hunched, feathers puffed. His wings are semi-curled around him, no longer tucked under the cloak, even though they’re out in the open. 

He doesn’t seem like he’d do well with being touched.

But Scar needs him to be quiet. For Grian’s sake too.

Before Scar can do anything, though, Grian’s earwings flit wildly and he whips his head to the side, honing in on some noise.

It’s a distressed chirp, one that sounds closer than any of the other ones. 

It’s an avian in distress calling for help.

Grian thought there aren’t any avians but him, and now there is one, still alive, so very close, desperate for aid, and— Grian’s mind blanks. There’s only one single thing to do here. He isn’t thinking. His heart beats wildly in overdrive. His body moves.

Blindly, Grian bolts in the direction of the sound. 

And it’s up to Scar to scramble and run after him. 

It’s more than that. More than just following Grian. Because there is so much at stake, and he needs to stop him and quiet him and— And he might have to exert force, and—

Oh. He is basically hunting Grian down here.

He is the hunter following in the steps of a terrified avian.

And Grian, in his dazed and fragmented perception of the world, feels just like prey. There is so much happening for him right now: it’s dark and all he can see is Scar’s piercing vex eyes when he glances over his shoulder; he’s lost in panicky instincts, trying to reach another avian in distress, hurtling blindly towards potential danger; and he does feel hunted.

On top of that, he can’t stop the stream of bird noises. He can’t pull his wings under his cloak either. He’s stumbling and tripping and scaping himself all over, but he feels like he needs to keep running.

He no longer knows if he’s even heading the right way. The chirping he was following fell dead silent. His head is just screaming at him. Hot white panic and a cacophony of unstoppable, overpowering instincts.

Scar has to stop him before he gets himself killed.

As awful as it is, Scar doesn’t care about that other potential avian (it could be a trap) nearly as much as he cares about Grian. His priorities here are clear, desperation thick and loud in his lungs, pressing at his ribs. There’s no time for bargaining or for steeling himself. 

He needs to act.

Scar grabs Grian and tackles him to the ground.

He’s pinning him down, sort of straddling him, hands on Grian’s mouth, hopelessly trying to muffle the noises. He feels absolutely vile, but he doesn’t know what else to do. His breaths come in little sharp huffs of blue magic, shiny through the darkness as he expels a ton of emotional energy just to keep himself from panicking and crying.

He finds that it’s not as easy to hold Grian down when he doesn’t want to be pinned down. But also it is. It is easy, far too easy—harrowingly so. Grian’s so light. (It frightens Scar to even touch the thought of how simple this would be for the hunters too.) 

He’s terrified of hurting Grian accidentally. He’s very capable of it; Grian’s made of brittle hollow bones after all, and Scar’s grip is a bit too strong, but he doesn’t have a choice here. Grian won’t stop thrashing, fighting to be freed. (But Scar knows that letting go would almost surely result in Grian’s death.)

And where Grian’s attention is kind of selective, not processing things at all, Scar’s attention is sharp—sharpened by panic—keenly attuned to their surroundings. He hears all the various noises come and go. Not necessarily chirps; other hybrids, too. Them falling silent. The hunters yelling. And the screams. God. The awful screams.

They’re all too far away for now, thankfully, but if Grian won’t stop, they’re bound to come this way. After all, if Scar can hear them, surely they can hear Grian too—?

Scar feels nauseous and horribly helpless. The hunters cheer and laugh as the hybrid noises go dead silent, one by one— only the hounds left barking and howling in their wake.

Scar knows that, even though it’s awful, they can’t help any of those hybrids. But he’s going to do everything in his power so that at least the two of them can survive this.

Despite all his (pointless) efforts, the hunters catch up to them anyway.

As they approach, Scar is struggling to quiet Grian down, and Grian isn’t thinking straight enough to properly fight. It’s the worst possible situation. 

There’s no point in quieting Grian down anymore when the hunters are right here though, and so Scar moves on the defensive, ready to give it all to keep Grian alive. The fight is ugly, drenched in frightening desperation; Scar is numb to the pain even when something tears. Grian’s chirps get worse. Warmth drips down Scar’s face.

But then a different sort of howling breaks through Scar’s mounting panic, and—

A group of wild vexes rushes in. Not to save Scar and Grian in particular; it’s just a lucky timing.

Because as it turns out, just the way hunters set off to hunt down hybrids during the eclipse, the vexes—who are more powerful at this time, magic thrumming strongly in their veins—set off to hunt down the hunters. So nicely accumulated for them. So loud. So easy to find. 

The vexes and the humans clash, and in the swell of the chaos, Scar manages to drag Grian away. 

He wants to keep going, increase the distance between them and everyone else as much as possible, but all too soon the forest opens up into fields, and no way he’s pulling a dazed Grian out there where they can’t hide. So instead he swerves, anchoring them against a rock formation—an array of boulders and a jagged cliff wall. 

He presses Grian into a small dent there, covering him with his own body (imprisoning him there, in a way). Hiding Grian’s wings, muffling his chirps, whispering frantic things that are meant to be soothing. The sky is still dark, and Grian’s still chirping, although it’s quieter now; it’s clear he’s exhausting himself, but he’s still making noises. Still unable to stop, despite the terror and the fatigue.

They get found again.

But it’s not the human hunters that find them this time. It’s the vex group, sneaking up on them, all their sharp edges drenched in blood, glowing with magic.

Scar turns his back to Grian, still pressing against him, tucking him against the rocks, hiding him as much as possible. He’s ready to lash out. He’s ready to fight with these vexes, even if he’s outnumbered. (He’s got no species loyalty here, after all.) 

In a curious tone, one of the vexes says: “That avian is going to get you killed.”

The words register to Grian through the haze. He’s still absolutely lost amidst this all, barely understanding the world around him, struggling to process anything. But there’s something about the words avian and get you killed, and the thought of Scar, that makes it through the fog.

It only serves to make him more distressed. He breathes in sharp, shallow breaths, and his chirping grows louder again, high pitched. But it’s not just the chirps this time. Some of the sounds he makes are choked, merging into something more like himself—the sound of helpless sobs.

Scar is shielding Grian with his back, but that means he’s turning his back on Grian’s cries and all of his misery. He cannot comfort him. He has no words that would make Grian not afraid right now.

The vex suggest leaving Grian or—worse—using him as a bait.

Scar’s staring them down, growling lowly, one eye squinted as blood runs down his face. “How about you leave.”

The vex don’t budge. They think they’re after a good thing here, after all. Surely, Scar also wants these hunters dead?

What they’re suggesting isn’t to sacrifice Grian as a bait—they don’t actually want to outright hurt or endanger him, even if it maybe doesn’t translate well through their stance and words. They’re not malicious in that way. What they’re suggesting is simply pragmatic in their minds. (I mean, they wouldn’t grieve if the avian happened to die there, but it wasn’t their goal to let it happen.) 

“We’re hunting the humans,” they note, as if that should’ve been enough to sway Scar. “We could use the avian—”

“No.”

One of the vex, white hair braided and smile sharp, peeks past Scar, trying to glimpse the feathers. The violet shade reflected in the glow of their magic tells him everything he needs to know, sating his curiosity, and he whistles, impressed. Amazed that an avian like this has lasted so long.

Scar lunges at him for getting too close.

He gets laughed at in return. What’s he gonna do, all alone? Not even channelling his magic to heal his own wound. It’s just funny to them. Cute. “What’re you going to do?” they tease, a bit too cheerily for the situation at hand. It rings threatening. “You’re outnumbered, pal.”

Scar doesn’t back down. “I’d take at least one of you down with me.” It’s a big statement. Covering up all of his nauseating fear and unending tension. Because he’ll do it. He’ll fight if he has to, and it will be ugly, and he might fail—he might die—but he’ll for sure give it everything he has.

And he can tell there’s camaraderie between this group of vexes. That they don’t really want any of them seriously hurt. 

They, as vexes, know the best how dangerous a feral, cornered vex with something to protect can be.

There’s a sliver of respect this earns Scar, unbeknownst to him. The will to stand up to them even when he’s outnumbered like this. To not give in to the pressure and instead fight for his values. For what he cares for.

The white haired vex—seemingly a leader of the group of sorts—reiterates, tone a bit lower, that the avian is going to get Scar killed. That he’d be better off without him. (Essentially voicing the deep rooted fear Grian already has.)

He also extends an invitation, almost in the same breath, impressed by Scar standing up to them. But it’s only Scar who is invited, and it’s blatant—the condition laid down is drop the avian or let’s use him as a bait and hunt together. 

With sharp ire and a swell of protectiveness, Scar counters that he’d be better off without them, actually.

There’s a snort and a mocking, “Aight, let’s see how long you can last.”

The relief Scar feels when they relent and leave is immense, leaving him weak in his knees.

He thinks they’re foolish, risking themselves like that. In his mind, they’re the definition of the violent vex, that dark reputation that seems to now stick to Scar and follow him too by the virtue of being the same kind of hybrid. He doesn’t want anything to do with that. 

And of course, he’d never leave Grian.

Grian is his last connection to home. He loves him, even if it never feels like it’s enough.

Excruciatingly slowly, sun eventually peeks back out. But even then, it takes Grian a very long time to untangle himself from these dazed, nonsensical instincts. It’s such a heavy, sticky veil and he’s left disoriented and confused for the longest time. Through his exhaustion, he feels weak and dizzy and out of it.

Scar is also exhausted, but they’re nowhere near safe yet. Still pressed against the rocks. Every nerve ending is flared up, Scar’s senses alert to the point of flinching at the subtlest sound, hypervigilant. But as Grian slumps and quiets down, Scar’s firm grip on him follows. 

Slowly, so slowly, Scar’s hold on Grian becomes comforting instead of restricting and terrifying.

He can tell that it left bruises.

Scar hates everything about it, but— They’re alive.

The sun is back, Grian is quiet, and they’re alive.

But they still need to find safety. And Grian’s so frazzled, still processing what even happened. The blurred memories of chirps and howls and screams swirl through his mind. He feels lightheaded, and like his skull is stuffed full, unable to think clearly. He doesn’t quite understand any of it, and his body feels locked in place. 

Grian wants to stay sitting here until everything starts making sense, but they don’t have that kind of time. They can’t stay. They need to move. They need to properly hide. 

Scar feels awful, but he needs to push through. He needs to force Grian to move.

The snow is splattered with blood. The forest is dead silent, scattered bodies left behind all across it. The area is riddled with traps, some activated and others still hidden, waiting to be triggered. 

The sun is shining.

The silence is eerie.

The scent of blood is thick and fresh and nothing feels safe.

--

Later, when Grian’s more coherent, he says, “They were right.” In an incredibly quiet, fragile, unsteady voice—but laced with determination—he tells Scar: “You should’ve taken their deal.”

Scar immediately tries to dismiss it. Preferably to not engage with this conversation at all. “Not interested.”

Grian registers the shut down of the discussion, but that doesn’t make it any less loud inside of his mind (and heart). He simply goes quiet and withdraws. Lips pursed, lightly frowning, staring somewhere away.

They don’t talk about it again.

Late at night, when Grian can’t sleep because he’s too high strung, he thinks of how it’d feel like, to be used by those vexes as a bait.

He dreams about it.

He dreams of faraway chirps and laughter and hounds finding him.

He has so many nightmares after this.

-------

BONUS screenshot for shits n giggles:

[movedtodykedvonte]

Linking this post cause it’s actually a very good thread on the DLCs ending and hits points I’m not gonna talk about rn. HEAVY SPOILERS BENEATH CUT

If you think Gregory is evil or tried to kill Cassie at the end of the game the Mimic tricked you too and you would’ve done worse than Cassie.

The chances the Mimic hacked into the elevator to drop it to get to Cassie or keep it’s only chance of escape from getting away are very high. There is noticeable glitching half way throughout the speech and the Mimic has been stringing along and trying to mislead Cassie the entire game. She is still confused on whose the real Gregory at this point and while it’s true the real Gregory was helping her escape, she still couldn’t tell that herself.

The Mimic is smart enough to recognize that Gregory has enough knowledge and help to assist Cassie as long as she accepts it and the easiest way to interfere is to make her distrust Gregory. If she is not outright dead, she will not trust Gregory in the slightest after being dropped and left for dead, allowing the Mimic to have an upper hand with her as she has little knowledge of the functions of the PizzaPlex.

Furthermore, Gregory has no control of anything in the PizzaPlex and it’s just out of character for him to betray a friend as he literally went back for Freddy when Moon took him despite how dangerous that area was. All I’m saying is please don’t blame Gregory, MVP did nothing wrong.

[puhpandas]

(the week would take place leading up to ggys 1st anniversary this year (February 29th to March 7th))

!!(PLEASE only vote if you would participate in the week. if you wouldnt create anything press the results button. this poll is purely for people who would 100% join the week and draw fanart/write fics for one or the other)!!

[mechieonu]

the the the that part in the last mabelcorn where you know that ford's not possessed by bill bc we don't hear the voice but in that split second of him advancing on dipper you WONDER.

[zero-artz]

My sister bought me a bracelet making kit and you know I just absolutely had to 😭

I also found this little medal thing with the tree on it and it reminded me of the Cherry tree where Kintoru was sealed. This game is injected into my everyday life and I love it 😭

[sysig]

Getting closer, getting really close now I swear (Patreon)

[mwolf0epsilon]

Not So Fun Mimic Fact of the Day: While the majority of mimics live lives more akin to that of drafthorses and racehorses (with physical characteristics that greatly benefit a working life, such as strong builds, hardy constitutions, and a capacity to run long distances), there are mimics who seem to sacrifice some of that overall power for lighter more beautiful appearances.

These are often referred to as 'Showpony mimics', and they're easily identifiable by their flashier coats, intricate rail-antlers and rail-plating, as well as their secondary tails which are purely cosmetic in nature.

Railway Shows have adapted to these divergent builds by assigning contests that better suit mimics by their Working Class and Showpony classifications (Strength, endurance and speed contests are entirely Working Class mimic contests, while visual appraisal and trick contests are Showpony mimics only). Pedigree has thusly become important to Railway Shows, much like in a dog or cat show.

In fact, some Railways find pedigree so important that they make it a point to try to pair up mimics via their class for better potential offspring, something which some workshops also subscribe to (even if it can prove difficult due to how unwilling mimics are to be seen before they've selected a vehicle to mimic). One example is the Doncaster Workshop, which made sure to select a Working Class only bloodline of mimics to assimilate the A4s, since Gresley wanted his legacy to be considered railway powerhouses. Something he didn't think he'd be able to get with 'hybrids'.

One can easily tell the NWR doesn't subscribe to such traditionalist ideas by the fact the fat controller has not only taken in James (a bulky and strongly built Working Class mimic with several Showpony traits) as a passenger mimic, but he also doesn't force his mimics to mingle with 'their own kin' for potential offspring. The mere concept disturbs him greatly in fact, since he's well aware of the fact the mimics are sentient...

[hhappinesss]

Are you taking requests for The Mimic at the moment? If so, could you write some Katio × Reader hcs? :0

>> kaito x reader hcs !

yess, i'm taking requests for the mimic atm! hope you enjoy. <3

by the way, i'm partially going to follow the old lore that was set for the characters of book 1.

before Kaito had become Sama's puppet, he was a kind man.

you had met him multiple times while he worked to help people cross the river with his boat.

boat rides with him were always so calm & great; you exchanged words while he rowed the boat towards your destination, and sometimes slowed down to observe little ducks and animals that swam near you.

you would always find him in a happy mood, until one day, he seemed upset. when you asked him why he looked so down, he explains that his wife, Niko, had left him and his two daughters, Mihari & Biwaki. you felt bad; this man didn't deserve anything so tragic. you hoped to at least cheer him up by offering to take care of his daughters while he was at work all day. Kaito hesitantly accepted the idea, knowing that you two were close enough to the point you had met his daughters two or three times in the past.

the first few times coming to his minka were a little awkward; the girls seemed to be hesitant around you, but they eventually got used to your presence.

Kaito was incredibly grateful for your help, especially when Biwaki showed him the new stick doll she had made with your help, coincidentally resembling you.

Mihari, who had fallen ill a period ago, seemed to feel a bit better after your care.

plus, having to walk by you every day made Kaito fall in love. maybe Niko wasn't the one for him anyway.

he managed to confess his feelings while taking you across the river to reach the land your house was at. you felt the same for him, and it was nice to kiss him under the moonlight.

Kaito would act the same way one would in a traditional relationship, as in gifting you your favorite flowers that he spent time picking up, holding doors open for you, and help you out with whatever.

his love language would probably be acts of service.

although he may not be the wealthiest, he would make sure to save up money to buy you things you've desired for a long time.

his daughters would quickly warm up to you, and eventually consider you their parent alongside Kaito.

he would love cuddles and little kisses. Kaito wouldn't be one to go over your limits at all; actually, he'd be quite awkward in the first stages of your relationship, but that's because he needs time to adjust and understand your boundaries, but once you both feel comfortable, it should be smooth sailing.

he would do anything to not lose you; after what happened with Niko, he's more careful than ever with what he says, and does (although their break-up wasn't his fault).

Kaito would just be the sweetest man to you, hoping you'll stay with him <3

thank you for reading :))

[connectionterminated13]

Thinking about Gregory finally like escaping glitch traps influence at the end of security breach and beginning to live with Vanessa and getting a shot at just being a normal kid (except for his cool robot bear dad)

[amethystsoda]

Oh. Copying accents without trying is a form of echolalia… Put another mark down for autism.

[ask-carmenpondiego]

Chapter 18: The Devil in the Details

M paced around his room which was fairly sparse of furniture. He already burnt through a solid pack of cigarettes since returning from his test run of the chronoskimmer and was well into his second pack. He pulled out his phone and patched through to the main computer, 079 pulling its face up on the screen. “Oh wonderful. You managed to spread my reach to your tiny slip of a mobile device. Could you make it any more cramped in here?” M growled, “I will stuff your stuck up assface into an ipod shuffle or worse if you keep it up. I need to go over the schematics on where I went.” The ai sighed as if it had something pressing that it was being pulled away from. It didnt. 079 pulled up the data code from the testing, giving a strong impression of if it had a body, it would be checking a watch and tapping its foot. M poured over the info and triple checked the details. “Everything is fucking correct for this world’s info. What the fuck happened that lead to that?!” 079 swirled its hair into a turban and had images of fortune telling items around its face “You know, I would tell you but I’ll give a little trivia factoid instead: I actually cannot see into the future. I’m a computer, not a psychic. I don’t even have a clue on what you even saw.” Red letters spelling CANCELLED were stamped across the turbaned ai face before returning to normal, wiping away the letters with a digital rag. “Yer no fuckin help.” M tossed the phone onto his bed and opened his window, leaning on the sill. “Perhaps what you saw was not what you saw?” 079 called out, muffled since the screen was face down against the comforter. M’s tentacle reached over and set it upright. “Elaborate.” M looked over his shoulder at his phone. “What you saw in one perspective was perhaps not the full story and you may have missed some key points. Ultimately, time will only tell. Its unadvisable to return to a time that you already visited, much less a time where current you and other you occupy the same time space. Time paradoxes still exist, you know.” M hissed at it through gritted teeth, “Yes I know time paradoxes still fucking exist! But HOW do I fucking change the event if I don’t know what fucking causes it?!” The phone was silent for a moment, “I’m sorry, was that rhetorical? I can’t quite understand the fragile folly of organic semi-intelligent beings. You could just let it happen rather than attempt to fix it and possibly bring about the resulting event faster.” M hung his head and flicked the cigarette butt out the window, “How the hell do you figure that?”

“I don’t. Again, I’m just a computer. I don’t give one iota of interest in what you do. Anything you do is your own fault in itself. In your words: I don’t give a shit.”

M ran his dark hands through his orange hair, “I’m going to have to tell Red.. can I even tell Red?” He points to the phone accusingly, “You just had to tell me that any fucking action I take could make it fucking happen faster! Now I can’t even fucking warn anyone!” In a very bored flat tone, 079 replied, “Oh no. I warned you against possible consequences for your actions that may or may not happen. What ever shall I do?”

“Report this to the TVA director, this is exactly what they have been looking for.” A small time desk jockey was reading a print-out of the timeline, noticing a new unauthorized time jump. He handed the print-out to a passing official who nodded and took the file containing the report. A short trip down the hall the official knocked on the director’s door, and entered upon permission. The director reviewed the file and started dialing the phone next to them. On the other end, a gentleman in a dark grey suit answered, thick files littered his desk from the MIB, ACME, SCP Foundation, United Nations Global Occult Coalition (UNGOC), G.R.U. Division Psychotronics (GRU-P), Earth Protection Force (EPF), Department of External Security (DXS), Federal Bureau of Control (FBC), Federal Bureau of Intervention(FBI), Federal Investigation Bureau(FIB), Foundation for Law and Government(FLAG), International Affairs Agency(IAA), the Wander Society and various other Interpol including Canterlot Royal Guard and Equestria’s global protection unit, all involving Carmen Pondiego and her VILE team.

The gentleman added the Time Variance Authority (TVA) file to his stack. “I see and this new variance is the confirmed beginning to our little thief problem? Understood. …..No, no. We already have eyes and ears on the entire group…… Oh yes, we have our contingency plan all set and planted, we just need to knock that first domino to put a bit of pressure on the situation…. Yes, just keep an eye on that variance timeline and let me know of any further splits or deviance… No, no, Thank YOU, Director. May prosperity raine upon you. Good bye.” A second gentleman with an umbrella hanging on his arm by the hook, seemingly a lower rank, stood in front of him. “Sir? If it has been confirmed for the beginning of the situation, then shouldn’t we eliminate the entirety as soon as possible? I mean, look how many unnaturals she has under her power. The reports say she gains more within a year or so and so does her reach.” The man at the desk tidies up and stacks the files and sets them aside. “No. There is a small chance this is the one who will lose it all and becomes a regular citizen again. We need to see if this time skip triggers anything. We have the safeguards in place. They just need to have the nerve to do what is demanded of them if the time comes. For now, we wait and gather more evidence against this Carmen Pondiego and her VILE team.”

A small red jet circles and lands on a dusty dirt patch outside a fortress ruin on an island on a lake by the southside mountains of Siberia. The fortress, once called Por-Bazhyn, sat undisturbed for many a year, though it currently looked like it was all filled in with dirt. The jet opens to let out its passengers, a few agents and Carmen. They headed to the main entrance and stopped just shy of the opening. Carmen looks at the blueprints and looks at a smaller opening about three yards to the side, “This is where we would typically enter but there had been damage to the interior entranceway further in where it just gives us a dead end. We’ll need to divert to the servants entrance over there.”

Once inside, they descend multiple flights to underground caverns and tunnels. Using their map, the group makes their way through twists and mazes, finally getting to a small open room with a deep drop in the center, the other side of the room was a chest, the walls were rough chiseled and some carvings have been broken away by time. The drop was just large enough that even an olympic jumper could not simply jump across. There used to be a rope bridge but has since rotted away.

Carmen nodded to Kiros who sank his claws into the wall and tested the weight of the grip. He then scaled across the chasm, making slight hand and footholds with his claws and hooked a line at the halfway mark and continued to cross the rest of the way, securing the line with a large pillar. Carmen and Lekir hook up their harnesses and attached the safety line before following exactly where Kiros had set his claws. Slowly making their way across, the girls didnt dare look down, Ninoga, staying on the entrance side of the room, was able to look down and see sharp staligmites growing up from the bottom of the chasm. “Nothing like an old fashioned temple heist with deadly drop offs for hobbies, huh?” Carmen chuckled, breathing hard as she hasn’t rock climbed in quite a while. Lekir shook her head, “You and I have different views on hobbies, I swear..” Ninoga tilted his head, “I thought we were getting things for a cure for Waldo?”

“We are, I was just saying this harkens back to when I was doing this for fun.” Carmen clarified, reaching the ledge. Lekir followed close behind as Carmen opened her pack to grab the extra rope and harness sets. She walked to the chiseled out shelf that holds the chest and checks for traps before picking up the chest which was surprisingly light. She frowned as she placed it near the harness set she was going to wrap it in and looked at the lock. The remains of the lock were already breaking away in her gloved hand in a pile of rusty dust. Kiros peers over, “Whats wrong?” Carmen shakes her head, “Its lighter than I expected..” Lekir comes over, shining her flashlight over for extra light since the room was very dimly lit by their larger lights they brought. “Well, we know we aren’t looking for coins and jewels, maybe it only holds a jar or something?” Carmen wipes the dust off her glove with her pants and proceeds to open the chest. With a yelp from both girls, the chest snapped back with a large set of teeth and a tentacle like tongue. They managed to scramble back out of chomping range just in time to see a red electric bolt shoot the chest from the side, blasting it into the wall with a crunch. Ninoga had sent the blast and called over “You guys ok?! I didn’t hit you, did I?” Carmen was catching her breath as Lekir waved over, “We’re good! Thanks!” Kiros was picking the broken pieces of wood apart, finding some meaty bits. “Should we save some for M as a snack?” He chuckled. “He’s gonna be sour he missed out on this.” He searches a bit more before finding a small scroll. “Here, I found something in the deep center.” Carmen reached for it, inspecting the type of parchment. “This is hide… its a rabbit hide!” She laughed, “Its the rabbit in the chest! So this is already the next clue.. This is awesome. Let’s get this back to HQ so we can figure out the next stop.” The girls carefully made their way back across the wall, having the two dragon types as watchers in case one of them fell, they could hoist them back up easily. They both made it without incident, with Kiros packing away some of the meat before scaling the wall, taking up the equipment he had set for the safety line.

After packing up the climbing equipment, the team made their way out of the tunnels and chambers and back towards the jet. They were met by a small group of militarized officials standing between them and their escape ride. The officials carried old looking bladed weapons as well as rods and had armored horses. The horses suddenly charged at the Agents, making the four scatter. One of the officials threw what looked like a bolas towards Kiros to which Lekir slid in and deflected with an ice spear she created, sending the bolas right back at the official, making him fall off the horse. The horse was startled and started to run with the official’s leg still stuck in a stirrup. Ninoga sent two officials flying with a good tail swipe while the last had gotten off of his horse to fight Carmen with close hand to hand combat. That didnt last long since Kiros picked him up from behind, tossing him to the wall as Lekir sent a smear of ice to hold him there like glue. Carmen was only a little cut up but she confirmed with a smile, they still have the loot.

They all piled back into the jet and set off to HQ, a fifth official that held back out of sight had made a call, “They have escaped. We could not detain them. I am sorry but we have failed to secure the scroll…. Sir? Please we will not fail again.. please no!” The official started begging before dark green vivianite crystals rapidly grew and speared through his body at all angles, severing organs and leaving nothing but shreds of flesh and bones between the multitudes of shards.

When they returned, Carmen was holding her torn red coat and had some cuts on her arms and side. Wally rushed up to her and held her close, making her wince, “Oh my Light! I’m glad you’re ok! I heard over the coms you needed a med kit! Do you need a hospital?!” Carmen pried him off, chuckling, “Nothing I’m not used to. This is why we train. I just got a few scrapes from some bladed guards. I just need some antibacterial gel and gauze. Its nothing! I don’t think these will even scar up.” Lekir laughs, “She’s the squishy out of all of us technically!” She slaps Carmen’s plush ass as if to demonstrate her plushness. The mare blushes and sighs about needing to sew her fabric coat yet again.

Asta nudged Wally’s arm a bit and he perked up as he remembered. “Oh! While you were gone, I went ahead and got you something. They didn’t have your bright red but maybe you will like this darker scarlet shade.” He handed her a box to which she took to the dinner table. Opening it, she grinned and chuckled as she lifted a brand new leather coat, a sleeker, lighter weighted design and had custom pockets on the inner lining and in the sleeves. She tried it on, wincing slightly as she moved, but overall had it on and it had fit perfectly. It even had a split back where her tail was able to freely peek out. She popped the collar and laid it bad down with ease and stuck her hands in every pocket she could find. “This is beautiful!! Thank you so much!!” She wrapped her arms around Wally and kissed him deeply. “Asta helped me with the sizing. She had to raid your closet for the right size. Now sadly they didn’t have a hat to match, so its just the coat for now.” He confessed, but she chuckled and put her hat onto his head. “Hats can be another time. Those can be a tough find anyway. But this is wonderful, thank you…oh! We also have good news! The chest had the next clue in it so we can go right to the duck that will lead us to the eggs! We’re almost there! We almost have you cured!”

Wally’s smile fell a split second as a worried look flashed. “I’m sure we will before it gets too bad.” M hung back and watched everything like a hawk, looking for any sign of the cause of such hatred he had seen on future Carmen’s face. It bothered him more than he expected, he wanted to say he didn’t care much about any of this just like 079 clearly stated as its own opinion. What M did find was that he was more attached to the whole team but moreso Carmen. As they joked, one thing was right, the majority of the team could handle a bullet or two and heal the next day. But Carmen was full mortal flesh and blood, no special powers, she couldn’t even use regular unicorn magic. Yet she dove into dangerous situations all the time with no regard for her own safety, as if she were one of them regardless of all the planning she does to keep everyone safe during their missions. And that bothered him even more since his test run.

He watched as she patched herself up all carefree, he puffed on his cigarette as he broods. It gnawed at his thoughts, he severely wanted both to go back to the future to figure it out but knew 079 had a very glaring and valid point. He thought about slipping off to the mech lab to tinker a bit more on the pod, seeing if he can alter something so its just not a time machine. He needed a distraction and his previous conversation of traveling to other universes may prove to be just the right project to give him that distraction.

A distraction did come to him, just in the form he didn’t expect. Carmen’s waterbottle was clear glass, yet the liquid had the absolute faintest blue glow, easily missed by casual glances. Perhaps 079 was right with his perception. He just needed more proof. He slinked off towards Carmen’s office as she laughed and had happy conversations with the others. She opened the scroll and showed the others. “Lets see what this thing says.” She laid it out on the table next to the coat box and tilted her head. Everyone gathered around for a view. “Is it supposed to be mostly blank?” The hide was indeed mostly blank, the bottom had a mountain ridge and a river and sporadic spots on the upper part that were either ink or tiny holes burnt through with a few sketch lines dashed in going a single direction. Otherwise it was very blank.

“Perhaps its a type of morse code?” Kiros rubbed his chin, Asta shook her head, “No, that was invented in the Amareicas in the 1830’s. And its not cuneiform.. the holes almost look like star alignments yet I dont recognize the placements but the other dots aren’t stars.” Carmen looked up and saw that M wasn’t there. She excused herself and went to search for him, finding him in her office, searching drawers and shelves.

“M, what’s going on? You’ve barely been around and more moody than usual since working on the chronoskimmer.” She inquired, setting her bottle on her desk as he was searching underneath for hidden compartments. He peeked up with a glare and his eyes darted to the water bottle and back to her, “Nice, acting stupid and oblivious right to my fuckin face.” Carmen furrowed her brow and lowered her ears, “Excuse me? But I have absolutely no idea what the hell you are going on about and I deserve an explanation for your behavior!” He stands and leans on the desk between them and whips the bottle across the room, smashing it against the wall. “THAT is what is going on. You have been way too easy going when it comes to your own safety, your cycles have been more intense, your pain tolerance is way too fucking high for a normal fucking pony, and your water always has a familiar blue glow to it. You’ve been fucking microdosing that fucking zydrate this whole fucking time! Now tell me where the rest of it is so I can fucking destroy it, you fucking junkhead!” She snarled at him and slapped his face to which he snapped his hand out and gripped her hair, slamming her head to the desk, “Don’t you FUCKING act all offended. Now I don’t give a fuck what withdrawal you suffer. Tonight you get clean for good and you never get high again. If you don’t listen to me out of fuckin fear, then at least do the fuckin curtesy of telling my brother that your so called happiness is a fucking lie. Fuck knows he deserves to hear the fuckin truth.” He growled as she struggled against his grip on her head as he held her down. “I will NOT let you go down a drug bender and do something you fucking regret!” She blinks and stops struggling for a moment, “What did you say?” She asked. His voice had a hint of unusual worry that she had caught. “I said I will not let you..”

“Yeah I heard that but you sound like you know something I dont..” He lets her up and avoids looking at her both out of fury and confrontation. “I’m not telling you. You are not supposed to know.”

She rubbed her head and walked around the desk, gripping his arm to turn him towards her, “Fuck that, you don’t get to assault me, accuse me of being a brainless addict AND withhold important information from me! Now tell me what you know!” He growls and grips both her arms, squeezing one of the deep cuts by accident, making her yelp. “I FUCKING CAN’T.”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Because I don’t know what fucking causes it!”

“It can’t be that bad. We’ve dealt with pretty bad shit.”

He shakes her a bit, “I saw you fucking die, okay?! It’s that fucking bad!”

The color drains from her face and she steps back from his grip. “When.. how?”

He sighs and puts one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair stressfully. “Three years, shot in Times Square.”

She let the information sink in, both hands on her hips, looking at the floor. She sighs and nods after a few silent moments, “Okay. Luckily the future is not set in stone. Let’s ban Times Square from our destinations. I’ll secure those guns my sister gave as a gift into the vault, far back so its hard to get them. And I really wish you didn’t smash my water. That was the last of the zydrate I had and boy, I could sure use some after that bomb you just dropped.” She looked at him, all coldly somber and turned to walk out of her office and back to the rest of the team. “We need your help to crack the riddle on that hide we brought back. Clean up your mess and join us when you’re done. I’m going to ice this bump on my head now and pour myself a stiff drink.”