#damn scanner line

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[eiightysixbaby]

i’ll be home for christmas

PART TWO: Run Run Rudolph

previous part || series masterlist || next part

word count: 5.1k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie isn’t enjoying life in chicago, but he’s been too stubborn to admit it. when he's at his breaking point, what comes next?

cw: switches between past and present tense, mentions of food/eating, lots of angst, eddie is an idiot but we love him, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’

author’s note: just wanted to say thank you all so much for the love on part one! i’m so excited to be sharing more of this story. part three is in the works and should be out in the next couple of weeks :) thank you again for giving my story a chance, it means so much to me.

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

The droning, repetitive sound of the cash register’s scanner is giving Eddie a migraine. Beep. A sweater is thrown into a bag. Beep. Some cooking utensils. Beep. A toy truck and a Barbie doll.

The impatient face of the woman who stands before him only makes him want to move slower, and she scowls when he “accidentally” purposefully drops one of her items to the floor.

“Oops!” he says, giving her a fake innocent grin, shrugging dramatically before he bends down to pick it up. He debates how feasible it would be to fake a stroke or a heart attack or something while he’s down here, but ultimately decides against it and stands straight again.

Beep. He scans a tie with green and red stripes on it, presumably for the less-than-amused husband who stands at the woman's side, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else.

He can hear the woman’s foot tapping on the waxy floors beneath them, her arms crossed over her chest and her checkbook clutched in one hand. He gives her her final total, watching as she scrawls her pristine cursive writing onto the thin piece of paper before handing it to him. He hands her several bags once the transaction is finished, pressing his lips into a tight line when she yanks them from his grip in a less-than-pleasant manner. The husband follows absentmindedly like a puppy on a leash, paying absolutely no mind to Eddie whatsoever. He might as well not have even been there.

“Happy Holidays to you, too,” he says, perhaps a bit too loud as they walk away.

Sighing, he leans onto the countertop in front of him, pressing his face into his open palms. The store’s speakers play a consistent loop of popular Christmas music, and Eddie thinks he’s heard The Chipmunk Song enough times today to last him the rest of his life. The squeaky voices of the fictional rodents ring out through the decorated space, eliciting laughter from children who can’t help but sing along.

There’s been a non-stop wave of shoppers over the past couple of weeks, and it only seems to be getting worse the closer it gets to the holiday. People in Chicago aren’t friendly about it, either. Everyone seems to be going about their lives transactionally, angry and frustrated that they have to be picking up gifts and baking cookies and wrapping boxes in the first place. Eddie isn’t used to it.

Back in Hawkins, everyone was cheerful around Christmas. The otherwise quiet town seemed to light up in December, bringing even the grumpiest of residents out of the woodwork to celebrate. The funny thing is, he never thought he'd miss it. Never imagined he'd yearn for that town, for that community. But there's a lot of things that hadn't gone according to his plan, so what's one more on that list?

Eddie can feel his name tag poking his skin through his shirt, his argyle sweater that was so impossibly opposite to his taste in fashion but that was strongly recommended by his boss; "to look put-together", he'd been told. And so he'd picked out a few "nice" outfits, for nothing if not to keep his damn job. But the material of the sweater makes his skin itch, and paired with the too-bright lights and the too-repetitive music, this job was a sensory hellhole. The smell of over-priced perfume is engrained into his nostrils at this point, and Eddie literally winces as he catches a customer spray a cloud of the fragrance out of a sample bottle.

He rolls his eyes as Donna, head of the fragrance department, dishes out her usual sales-pitch to the clueless man that stands before her, utterly and devastatingly unsure of what to get the lady in his life for Christmas. I could never be that clueless, Eddie thinks to himself, I know how to get a good gift.

And then, his heart aches as he stares blankly at the man holding two different perfume bottles in each hand. Because he remembers that the last real gift he'd bought was for you.

December 5th, 1988.

The mall was packed full of holiday shoppers, everyone in a mad rush to find the perfect gifts for each person on their lists. Eddie typically wasn't much of a shopper himself, really only coming to the mall to bother Dustin and Will at Scoops, but today was different. You wanted to start getting your shopping out of the way, and didn’t want to go alone, so of course Eddie was going to tag along. He’d been spending every possible second he could with you, running errands or getting food or seeing a movie. Even just hanging out at your apartment or his trailer. With you, everything seemed magical. Every item you picked up and marveled at in each store, every Christmas song you sang along to, it was all shiny and wonderful because it was associated with you.

You currently have him at a jewelry store, looking into a glass case filled with glittering gold and silver accessories. Some of which probably cost, individually, more than all of his possessions combined. A low whistle leaves his mouth before he hears you chirp beside him.

“Eddie! Look at this one!” you coo, pointing eagerly at a flashy necklace that sits in the case.

He’s at your side in an instant, looking where your finger directs him. His eyes land on a dazzling pendant, adorned with jewels that sparkle glamorously.

“Oh, Nancy would love this,” you muse, taking a closer look at the price tag. “I could get this for her… or I could tell Robin about it so she could get it for her. I don’t know, is it too much if I get Nancy a necklace?” you debate out loud, making Eddie smile at how flat-out adorable you are.

He loves your heart, the way you always think about your friends. You truly aren’t looking for a thing for yourself, you just want to get your friends the best gifts possible, physical objects that remind them of your gratitude for them.

“I don’t think it’s too much. Or, why don’t you give Robin a call so you can ask her straight up? Here, use the pay phone,” he offers, pulling some quarters from his pocket and handing them to you.

“You’re right, that’s the easiest idea,” you say with a cute little relieved laugh. “Wait here, I’ll be back in like, fifteen.”

He gives you a little salute with two fingers, continuing to glance around at the selection once you’ve left. His feet stop him instantly when his eyes catch a delicate gold necklace with a tiny heart-shaped pendant. It’s engraved with the letter M, and a card sits beside it that informs potential buyers that you can get it customized with any initial. It’s simple, exactly how you’d want it to be, but it’s far from ugly or bland.

Eddie knows immediately that he wants to get it for you, eyeing the price tag nervously before breathing a sigh of pure relief at the fact that it’s far more affordable than he’d have suspected. You’re the most special thing in his life, and it feels right to give you a piece of him. His initial, to wear on your neck, so you can keep him close at all times. His stomach does a little flip of excitement at his idea, and he’s grateful you’ve left him alone so he can keep this a surprise.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says to the worker after you’ve left. “I’d like to get this one, please. Engraved with an E.”

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

He's pulled from his melancholy daze by another customer snapping their fingers in his face, polished nails standing out at the tips of slender fingers.

"Hello? Anybody home?" the woman asks, chewing her gum too exaggeratedly for Eddie to be able to take her seriously. "Are you too stupid to understand me or what?"

Yeah. It's going to be a long rest of his shift.

•

Cars roll past on the busy streets as Eddie makes his commute home, the holiday chaos evidently in full-swing on the outside of the department store, too. He winces as a car’s tires slosh through the slushy mixture collecting on the sides of the road, sending it splattering all over his coat. He sighs, moving off to the side of the sidewalk that’s furthest from the road, brushing half-melted snow off of himself.

His body is frigid with the cold, his eyes heavy with his incredible lack of sleep and his fatigue from the most draining shift at the world's most boring job. He trudges inside of his apartment building, the tall structure looming over the Chicago streets. The large Christmas tree in the lobby makes Eddie frown to himself, resurfacing that ache he’d felt at work. The ache that really hasn’t fully gone away since last Christmas. It’s always in the back of his mind, always tapping away at his heart, a dull soreness like a bruise that won’t heal.

“Oh shit, what’s goin’ on, Edwardio?” Eddie’s neighbor, Argyle, greets him as he climbs the stairs to his floor.

“Hey, man,” Eddie responds, feeling guilty at the monotony of his voice compared to cheerfulness of his acquaintance.

“You wanna come in for a smoke sesh? Just picked up some new stuff,” Argyle offers, sticking his thumb in the direction of his door as he grabs his keys from his pocket.

“Nah, man, not tonight. Some other time,” and then Eddie’s slinking into his apartment, shutting his door promptly behind him.

Eddie never turns down a smoke sesh.

Once fully inside, he throws his things haphazardly onto the ground. He couldn’t be bothered to care about where they land — his whole place is a mess. A reflection of his mental state. Soft wool fabric of his sweater is tossed onto his bed, traded for a t-shirt so well-loved it has holes in the neckline. He goes to his dining table as he tugs the shirt fully over his head, grabbing the phone off of the wall and anxiously curling the cord around his fingers as he dials a familiar number. It rings a few times before there’s an answer, each droning dial tone making him anxious.

“Hello?” he hears Robin’s voice ring out on the other end.

“Rob, hey, it’s me.”

“Eddie!” she says excitedly. “Guys, Eddie’s on the phone!” her voice sounds further away, and he knows she’s holding the phone away from her face as she calls out to whoever else is there.

Steve shouts his name and he smiles, hearing the commotion on the other end as other people shuffle towards Robin to try and grab the phone.

“How is everything? How are you?” Robin asks him, shushing Dustin as he begs her to let him say hi.

“I, uh, I’m alright. I miss you guys,” he says, resting his forehead on the heel of his palm. “How’s everything there?”

“We miss you too. Things are….” Robin pauses, and it makes Eddie’s stomach drop. “—They’re okay,” she finishes, but she sounds unsure; like there’s something she isn’t telling him.

“Who’s there with you right now? I know I heard Henderson and Steve,” he says, trying to force some happiness into his voice.

“Eddie! You’ll never believe how the D&D campaign is going!” Dustin says excitedly into the receiver, and he can hear Robin’s voice telling him to give it back.

“I bet it’s great, you’ll have to call me on your own sometime and tell me everything.”

“I definitely wi— HEY!” Dustin says, yelling as the phone is seemingly snatched from him.

“Give me the phone back, you turd! Okay, to answer your question…” Robin’s voice is back again. “It’s me, Nance, Jonathan, of course Steve and Dustin, and then, uh… Sunny,” she trails off, getting quieter at the end.

It hurts Eddie’s heart, the way she says your name softly like she doesn’t want you or him to hear it.

“Can I… can you put her on?” he tries, wanting so desperately to hear your voice.

You haven’t talked to him since Christmas Eve. Since the night he told you he was leaving. Every time he’d call home he couldn’t manage to get ahold of you. The one time he called your personal number, the second you’d said hello and he’d announced his presence, you’d hung up. Sometimes, when Eddie happens to call Steve or Robin or Nancy during a group hangout, they’ll tell him you aren’t there, but he knows it’s a lie. Not that it matters much anyway, because even the times they’re honest with him he’ll ask to speak to you and you’ll refuse.

It hurts him, how much you’ve distanced yourself. He obviously wanted you to move forward, but he’d hoped you could at least catch up every once in a while. How stupid he’d been to think that this was a fair thing to ask of you. How stupid he’d been to think the right decision was to leave you behind, the one person who he adored, who was right for him.

“Eddie…” Robin says on the other end, her voice wavering.

“Forget it. It’s okay,” he says, immediately looking to change the subject. “Look, I just wanted to check in and see how you guys were doing. I can let you go.”

“We miss you, Eddie. We’re always thinking of you,” Robin says, and he hears Nancy say a quick “love you!”

“Tell Wheeler I love her, too. I love all of you guys, okay? We’ll talk later.”

And then the call is over. The phone clicks into its place on the wall, and Eddie is alone again. Deafening silence rings in his ears, taunting him as he stares blankly at the wall in front of him.

If he’s honest, truly honest, nothing has been right since he left Hawkins. He tries to grin and bear it, to pretend like his shitty dead-end job is making him happy and that he made the correct decision moving here. But deep down, nearly this whole time, he’s known it was wrong.

Last December, he’d been at a breaking point, feeling like he was unwanted in Hawkins and like he was just a burden to you and everyone else. He’d genuinely convinced himself that you’d be better off without him, had it in his head that you’d move on with time and that you’d be okay in his absence.

He couldn’t be more wrong, but he wasn’t aware of how much you missed him. He didn’t think he was something worth missing.

December 16th, 1988.

Steaming hot plates of scrambled eggs and bacon are placed in front of you and Eddie, followed by two sides of toast with extra butter. Taking a tentative sip of his scalding coffee, Eddie’s eyes meet yours over the rim of his mug. You do a happy little wiggle in your seat, more than content to have a meal after your drinking session at Nancy’s the previous night. Eddie’s stomach was begging for food, and he knows you must be feeling the same way.

You waste no time digging in, and he watches you with a cute smile on his face as you raise your fork to your mouth, groaning when you take your first bite of eggs. You look ethereal, with your hair unbrushed and your mascara messy around your eyes, one of his big t-shirts on your frame beneath your winter coat. His smile falters, then, as he considers how perfect you are. How you’re effortlessly flawless, and how he doesn’t come close to deserving you.

You catch him staring, poking his wrist with the dull end of your fork and breaking him out of his thoughts.

“You can’t absorb my food just by watching me eat, you know that right?” you joke, smirking around your mouthful of toast.

“I can sure as hell try,” Eddie says, pressing his index and middle fingers to either side of his head, humming while he does it as if summoning the food to him.

You laugh, the brightest little sound, before you go back to eating as normal. You don’t see his smile fade yet again as he starts to pick at the food on his plate, his appetite suddenly dwindling.

The last week had taken its toll on Eddie, to say the least. This time of year always tended to be a bit hard on him, making him reminisce on the days when his mom was still alive and reminding him that his dead-beat father couldn’t be bothered to spend the holidays with his only son. Christmas was a time for family gatherings, and Eddie didn’t have family to gather with. He had you, and the rest of the friend group, and Wayne, but it just isn’t the same as having a complete and loving family. He found himself wishing for the Christmas-card picturesque familial comfort, and his heart ached at the lack of it.

Then, to bring his mood down even more, there was the incident at the grocery store. Just last night he’d been at the store with you, picking up some alcohol for the get together at Nancy’s. You’d been following close behind him as he’d roamed the aisles, your hand wrapped around his arm. Soft laughter and warm smiles were exchanged as you waited in the checkout line, inviting the eyes and judgments of onlookers.

“What a shame that poor girl got roped in with the Munson boy,” an older woman had said to her friend as they walked by. “She could do so much better than that…” she remarked, looking Eddie up and down in a way that could only be displeased. He met their eyes, only to have them turn up their noses in response and walk away.

You hadn’t heard the comments, had been too busy selecting a candy bar to snack on, your fingers sifting over crinkly paper before deciding on a Kit-Kat. Eddie tried to shake the stranger’s comment off, really he did, but he found his brain clouded with it. Sometimes he was so good at letting things roll off of his shoulders, but he’s felt it getting harder and harder. The whole night at Nancy’s, he couldn’t stop thinking about what the woman had said; couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at you like she pitied you, simply for being near him. The worst part is, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed people judging you and him together. Not even close. Everywhere he goes with you, he feels like he catches dirty looks.

It makes him feel like even more of a screw-up than he already does, simply adding to the emptiness that resides within his body. In his head, he feels like that woman at the supermarket was right. You could do better than him. Why did you bother with the town freak when you could have anyone?

“Hey,” you say now, blinking at him from across the sticky tabletop. Your voice is like a shining flashlight through the fog of his thoughts, bringing him out of the murkiness. “Are you alright? I thought you were starving,” you worry, concern etched into your facial features.

He looks down at his plate, realizing he’d been dancing his fork around the porcelain and stabbing mindlessly at the now-room-temperature eggs. He’d taken a single bite of his toast and nothing more.

“Did those eggs do something to you?” you ask, playing tough, trying to get a smile from him. “Do I need to teach them a lesson?”

“Yeah, actually, they called me some pretty mean names,” he joins in, rolling his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. You notice this, able to read him like a book, but you don’t press the issue.

Instead, you simply reach across the table, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. Squeezing yours in return, he tries to brush away the depressing thoughts that had berated him, and he eats his bacon and the rest of his toast before you both get up to leave. He knows he shouldn’t torture himself like this, but it’s hard not to when his whole life he’s felt like he wasn’t quite good enough.

When you arrive at your place, he walks you to the door of your building, ever the gentleman. Trying desperately to savor these moments with you without letting the town’s collective opinion of him ruin them. His heart flutters when your pretty eyes look up at him, your gentle fingers brushing against the sleeve of his coat.

“I don’t really want you to go,” you say, laughing a little but turning away as you do it, like you don’t quite want him to see.

“I don’t wanna go either. Hate leaving you,” he says, tilting his head to the side as he gives you a tiny pout.

You stand in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. The tension hangs thick in the air, and Eddie swears he could reach out and slice it with his fingernail. His heart thumps in his chest, he wonders if you can hear it from where you stand. And then, before he can truly even process it, you’re leaning in and he’s leaning in and then his lips are on yours and oh, god.

He’s never felt lips softer than yours, never felt sparks like the ones he feels right now. The kiss doesn’t last long, but in his mind it felt like he’d been frozen in that moment for hours. He can feel his cheeks flush when you’ve pulled away, but as he looks at you his heart just sinks.

You could do better than him. This is a mistake. He can’t let you do this to yourself.

He suddenly wants to sprint as far as he can away from you, he wants to curl up into a ball and hide away for eternity. He feels unstable, like the earth beneath him could crumble at any minute. His gut is telling him to leave, to go home and shut himself in to think. But at the same time, the way you look at him makes it so hard to go. You chew on your lip, giggling as he gives you a soft look and decisively tells you he has to get home. His breathing is a little shaky, and he hopes you didn’t notice.

“I’ll see you soon?” you ask, holding onto his arm.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

Your smile is persistent as you open the door to your building, waving at him through the small glass window. He offers a wave in return, before he turns heel and all but books it back to his van. He feels like he could collapse, like everything is crashing down around him.

To this town, he’s a fuck up, and maybe they’re all right. Maybe he needs to get out, to go somewhere where he can start fresh. Be someone new, not just a Munson.

His mental spiral only worsens as he drives to the trailer park, his thoughts racing in his mind. He hears principal Higgins from a few years back, he hears his neighbors, he hears the PTA moms all calling him a failure, a freak, a weirdo. A burden.

By the time he gets home, he feels like the answer to his problems is already decided. It’s been a slow boil over the course of the last week, a nagging thought that fades in and out of his brain. Now it’s finally coming to a head. There’s too many bad memories in this town, too many people that want him gone.

He needs to leave Hawkins. He needs to leave you.

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

Initially, right after he’d left, the gang had tried reasoning with him, begging him over grueling phone calls to just come home. He’d felt horrible about it, but he said no every time. He truly wanted to make something of himself, something that he felt Hawkins could never give him.

But then, getting his foot in the door in the music industry like he had hoped was not as easy as it was made out to be. The guy at the local recording studio had laughed at him when he’d inquired about booking a session to record a demo-tape. He’d laughed harder when Eddie had asked if the recording studio itself was hiring. He couldn’t even land a job at the local record store, and he felt like his failures were just piling up. His first job in the city had been at a small book store, but they ended up letting him go due to their lack of need for his help. Not enough foot traffic, the owner had said. Not worth keeping Eddie around for one shift a week, he’d grumbled.

He’d had several failed job interviews after, growing more and more frustrated after each one. Bills and other expenses were piling up with each passing day he spent jobless, and he guiltily accepted the little bit of money Wayne insisted on sending him to help him get by. He struggled along until he finally scored a job at the big department store down the street from his place. It wasn’t glamorous, by any means, but it paid the bills… barely.

That was another thing. His rent raised unexpectedly a couple months after his move, and he’s been living essentially paycheck to paycheck ever since.

He finds himself missing Hawkins more than he ever thought he would, and it kills him every day. More than anything, he misses you. Every day he thinks about you, yearns for you, wonders what you’re up to. Most of all, he thinks about that kiss. That single, stupid kiss that you’d shared. It had been earth shattering, and looking back he isn’t sure why that wasn’t his reason to stay. Instead, it pushed him further away.

His pride had gotten the best of him, not letting him admit defeat and move back to Indiana because he wanted to seem like he had everything figured out. He couldn’t stomach the thought of returning after a couple short months and looking like a failure to everyone. Frequent phone calls home to Wayne helped him stay sane, and he tried to keep his tone upbeat for his uncle but he should’ve known all along that the man knows him too well to buy it.

That’s why, when Eddie picks up the phone for the second time tonight and dials Wayne’s number, the man on the other end isn’t surprised to hear the way Eddie’s voice cracks or the sniffles that he tries to hide. It’s why he instantly requests that Eddie tell him what’s going on, because he just knows.

And Eddie pours his heart out.

“I can’t do it, Wayne. I can’t fucking do it,” he sniffs.

“Don’t talk like that, boy, what’s got you worked up?”

“I’m miserable here. I thought this was the right choice, but it couldn’t have been further from it.”

Wayne is silent on the other end, but Eddie can hear his steady, calm breathing. He keeps going.

“Sunny won’t talk to me, and— and I deserve that, but I miss her. I miss you, I miss my friends, I fucked up, Wayne,” Eddie’s voice is raw as he talks, frustrated tears streaming down his face. “Chicago is not what I wanted it to be. It didn’t create some magical new life for me. I have virtually nobody here that gives a shit.”

There’s silence again. In this moment Eddie is so wound up he almost snaps at his uncle, but then he doesn’t need to, because his voice comes through the line.

“So come home,” Wayne replies, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“What?”

“Come home. Book a flight and get your ass here, I’ll help you pay for it. There’s still time to make it by Christmas.”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off for Eddie, in that moment. Why can’t he just come home? What’s so hard about it? He’d been telling himself no, acting as though he had to stay in Chicago. But what was he running from?

Maybe he just needed that final push. Someone to tell him point-blank to cut the crap and come home. He should've been confiding in Wayne all along. And then it all falls into place, as Eddie stews in the realization that there’s nothing truly holding him back from going home except for himself. He’d created this narrative in his head; that he needed to leave Hawkins and that no one benefited from his presence. What if that was all… bullshit? He’s been forcing himself to stay in a city he hates… for what? He slumps back in his chair, letting Wayne’s words sink in, nodding his head slowly as he thinks.

By the time he gets in bed for the night, he knows what he has to do. He knows he’s made a lot of mistakes in his lifetime, but his worst one was leaving you. Settling in under his thick comforter, his stomach turns with anxiety and excitement. He barely sleeps a wink, but for once, he isn’t mad about it when he wakes up the following morning.

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

Eddie’s hands shake as he steps out of his cab, his breath shallow with his nerves. In a couple of short days he’d packed up his life in Chicago to leave this place behind for good. He’d left a note on Argyle’s door explaining his departure and thanking him for all of the smoke sessions, and he’d tossed his keys at the always-rude front-desk receptionist before walking out of that building for the last time.

He shuffles in through the revolving doors at the airport, hands nervously wringing around the strap to his duffel bag. Wayne had been right, of course, there was plenty of time to make it home for Christmas and Eddie had secured a flight to Indiana rather easily amidst the holiday craziness. He hadn’t told a single other soul he was coming home, and he knew Wayne certainly wouldn’t share the news without his permission. He wanted to surprise everybody, wanted to fix what he’d broken last year, and he could only hope that he would be welcomed by his friends. You were his biggest obstacle, the thing making him the most nervous, but he was more than ready to see your face again and to never let you go this time. Somehow, he’d make it right.

He takes a deep breath as he heads towards his gate, then another.

This is it. He’ll be home in Hawkins for Christmas.

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem @svbrbnlegends @eddiesxangel @munsonzgf @hereforshmut @eggo-segual @joannamuns9n @lavendermunson @leenameh @micheledawn1975

[the-kr8tor]

Oblivion

Ending one

Solo Mission<<<

You chose the escape pods.

“We need to get the fuck out of here!” With a push on Hobie's shoulder, you sprint towards the right where the escape pods are.

Running away with all your might while Hobie shoots back at the creature, whose thudding footsteps reverberate through your bones, your fear encapsulates you. Your fear of him dying, seeing him get devoured by the very thing that killed your friends.

With your console on your wrist, you close each hallway shutters that were built to withstand great explosions but to the grotesque being, it's nothing but a wall of hay as it continues to run through it with barely any resistance.

There's no turning back now.

Its groans of pain, and flesh still burning, it runs towards you with such ferocity that you think it has a spark of humanity left in its distorted body. You could feel your heart pumping in your chest, lungs desperately heaving in more air as with every banging sound from behind, metal breaking and cracking with every shutters closing.

Hobie checks on you with arms lugging around the dismembered hand. Its hundred fingers are still wiggling and bleeding in his grasp.

“Love!” He yells as he sees the end of the hallway with the large circular doors with the written words that you've been waiting for.

“I know!” With one final push, you kneel down, using the momentum to slide on the grimy floors, rifle immediately pointing towards the creature. “Hobie, the finger prints!”

“On it!” As you shoot, Hobie brings the gigantic hand on the scanner next to the door. He checks every finger but none of them have the admin clearance you need. “Fuck!” There's still dozens to go through but the creature is still gunning after you, albeit slower this time as your concoction makes its way into its veins.

“Hurry! I'm running out of—” just as you say it, the creature falls on the ground, sliding its bloodied body on the floors, stopping just a few feet away from you. Panting, you look over your shoulder to meet with Hobie's eyes.

“Holy shit.” His eyes glint with hope. With one remaining finger to scan, it beeps then a green light illuminates his helmet. “Lucky.” He almost chuckles out.

Your eyes glimmer under the red lights, as he helps you up, the creature huffs, reminding you that you don't have much time left.

“Let's go before it wakes.” Hand in hand, Hobie leads you inside the room with its rows upon rows of escape pods at the ready. As you predicted based on the ship's age, one pod could only house one person. Something that has been fixed ten years ago after an incident.

The doors hiss close behind you, granting you one last look at the sleeping monster.

You place the now empty rifle next to the door, running towards the closest pod to check if it's all clear only to find the unmistakable red error code on the panel. “Fuck, this might've been damaged from before. Any luck?”

Hobie checks every single pod, desperation crawling on his neck with every error he sees on each escape pod. “Not yet.”

A deep rumble from outside freezes the blood in your veins. “There's gotta be one that's working!” You scream in frustration, hands trembling as you skim every single one of them. Your hope fades away when you see the very last pod at the end of the line with the same red flashing on its screen.

Hobie’s rapid footsteps recede, “love! Over ‘ere!” You follow him quickly, running towards him with a soft smile. Finding that he's waiting at the last pod, which only means one thing. “You need to take your helmet off or you won't fit in it.” He's already twisting your helmet off before you could protest. “We— you need to get inside, love.”

“No,” his hands grip your arms, pulling you gently towards the now opened pod. “No, not without you damn it!” You push him away, his body almost landing inside the pod as he looks at you with his tear filled eyes. “I'm not leaving without you.” The trilling sounds get louder, and your vision warbles into the same rainbow light. “I can't, Hobie.”

He sniffs, lips slowly curling into a gentle smile, a reassuring one. Calling your name like it's the last time he'll ever say it, he reaches for you again. “You have to go.” His palms rests on your cheeks, catching your tears in his gloves. “I'll find my own way out, yeah? And we'll get that house with the readin’ nook you always wanted.”

“But it won't be a home without you!” You stomp your foot down like a child throwing a tantrum. “I don't have to go, okay? W–we can keep running from it until it starves! Please, don't make me leave you behind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, embracing him fully while you slowly inch towards the pod while his back is turned from it. “Please.”

“‘m sorry, lovie.” He thumps his helmet atop your forehead gently, trying to feel your warmth through the glass. “I'll see you again, in this life or the next.”

Leaning away, your forehead presses gently on his helmet, eyes closed as you savour his warmth. Sliding your palms on his chest, your thumbs caresses the patch you two designed years ago. “No, I'm sorry.” With one strong push, he falls backwards into the hull. You take advantage of his shock, closing and locking the door over him. “You're gonna be okay.”

“No, Please!” Hobie hears the muffled thudding from behind the glass, and your quiet sobbing as you punch in coordinates on the control panel. He tries to push the glass, then punches it to no avail. It doesn't crack or hiss open, despite him pulling the lever to open it. “You should be ‘ere, not me! Love! Open the fuckin’ door!” He keeps punching the glass, heart wretched out of his heart as he watches you sacrifice yourself. He calls your name again, soft and broken in his throat. “Don't leave me.”

The flashing ‘launch’ button appears as you finish putting in the coordinates of earth or any closest space station, whichever it finds first. You could only hope that he gets back there safely, he needs to survive. For his sake and yours.

Your finger hovers over the button as you hear a crashing sound. “I love you, I'm so sorry.” The doors rip open, and the creature's thundering footsteps fade away in your ears while you could only hear Hobie's anguished muted screaming. “I hope I get to meet you again, captain.”

With a press of the button, the last thing he ever saw was your shining smile, and the monster looming behind you.

As the dark space encapsulates him, and the pod propelling him back to earth, he could only see your last smile behind his eyelids and the kaleidoscope of light fading in his vision.

You didn't make it.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone || MV1 {5}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: It’s a quick trip to Red Bull Racing Headquarters but expecting a job interview would be too simple. Warnings: more illegal activities (expected by now) WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

The room was tense as you took a seat beside Max on the couch opposite his Team Principal. No one had spoken since you were escorted into the building with half a dozen security officers and, try as you might, you couldn’t stop the smile playing on your lips. You saw the escort as a compliment, but Max didn’t see it quite the same way and was clearly irritated as he shut the door in their faces.

Christian sat back in his chair and linked his fingers over his pressed shirt. “You have your meeting, so tell me, why should I hire you?”

You were grateful he didn’t want to waste time on small talk, the sooner you sort this out the better. “Because I am clearly smarter than the people you currently have to protect your interests, and quite frankly I’m not going anywhere so you should get used to me.”

“Liefje,” Max warned softly, knowing threats weren’t the way to endear Christian to you.

“You say you are smarter, but we caught you.”

A short laugh escaped before you could contain it and you looked at Max to see his lips twitch in amusement. “You didn’t catch me,” you corrected. “I should have been gone weeks before you ever knew it was me, there was only one reason I stayed.” You squeezed Max’s hand and gave him a small smile. “He caught me.”

“How cute,” Christian commented dryly. 

You ignored the remark since he was clearly still irked by the fact you had stolen from him so you moved on as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “Needless to say, I feel responsible for how the season is going and I want to fix that. You see, I have connections with people in very low places and some of them owe me for saving their asses. Turns out it doesn't take much to convince a handful of key investors of Scuderia Ferrari into dumping a large percentage of their stocks…they are just waiting on my call.”

“And you’ll only make that call after I have hired you.”

You shook your head and pulled your phone out, placing it on the table. “The call is just an olive branch, it’s up to you if you take it or not. But it would be hard for their team to afford to make upgrades when their stocks plummet.” 

He reached over his desk and took the phone that was all set to make the call to the unsaved number on the screen. “So why should I hire you if hitting this button solves my problem?”

“That doesn’t solve your problem, it just solves this problem. Your facilities are still lacking any serious onsite security, you’ve invested money into cybersecurity but next to nothing internally. I could walk in here tomorrow and do it all over again.”

“Babe,” Max chuckled nervously.

“I’m not,” you assured him with a shrug. “I’m just saying I could.”

“Actually,” Christian said as he held up a finger. “Do it. Do it successfully and you’re hired.”

His eyes returned to the phone in his hand and his thumb hit the small green button before putting it on speaker as he pushed it closer to me.

The line connected but no one greeted you as was expected when organising illegal activities. It would be quite damning to answer the phone with your name if the phone was tapped. 

“Greenlight for the pony drop,” you said as you held Christian’s stare over the device. “Your debt is paid.”

The call disconnected and you reclined back in your chair as you slipped the phone back into your pocket. “I suppose I will see you in the morning.”

The long mousy brown wig almost blended into the beige pant suit that was two sizes too big. Both colours were so absolutely mundane that no one would take a second look and the lack of shape was practically an invisibility shield from the eyes of the men working security. They paid absolutely no mind to you as you walked through the front doors and towards the metal scanners. 

At 8.30 in the morning it was the busiest time for people arriving at work and two out of the three lanes leading to the scanners were for foot traffic coming in. It was a simple act of slipping a coin into the pocket of the woman in the lane beside you and waiting for her to step through. All eyes turned on her the moment the alarm was set off and you used the distraction to pass your small cargo around the outside of the scanner as you stepped through, the machine remaining silent. 

You were already halfway down the corridor before they had finished waving the wand over the woman’s clothes and they were none the wiser with who had just entered the building. There was no doubt that more security roamed the halls than before and you slipped into the bathrooms on the next floor as another pair made their way towards you on their rounds. 

As soon as the door closed, you pulled off the suit jacket and turned it inside out so it was now a white lab coat similar to the other workers in the tech labs on this floor. Next you pulled on a pair of glasses with a hideously bright frame that both drew attention and did not match your face shape because secondhand embarrassment was the simplest way to defer attention away from you.

From all your interactions with Christian you had quickly determined he was a very disciplined man that always stuck to his schedule. There was no reason that wouldn’t he wouldn’t take his 9 o’clock walk to the cafeteria, take his double shot espresso and spend a few minutes out on the glass balcony while reading the sports section of the Sun.

He expected you to sneak into the labs like you had last time, but he had no clue what you really planned.

You left your safe spot in the bathroom when the hour ticked over and took the back stairwell to the top floor where the large office sat empty. You hadn’t even told Max of the plan, you had merely kissed his lips and told him not to worry when he asked you about it in bed last night. He could have pushed it and you would have told him but he was trusting you and that meant everything. 

The thought of Max waiting in the hotel where you left him half asleep was almost enough to distract you but you took a deep breath and pushed your airpods into your ear and dialled the landline number saved. Across the hall, Christian’s PA answered her office phone with a polite greeting and you checked your watch.

“Hi Janine, Charlotte from DHL here,” you spoke sweetly as you watched another minute pass and knew you were short on time before Christian returned. “I have an urgent package for Mr Horner from Oracle Head Office but security won’t let me inside. Is it possible Mr Horner can come and collect it from the front desk?”

Keys rattled and a chair squeaked as the PA stood up, the landline tucked between her head and shoulder as she slipped on her heels she had kicked off under her desk. “Mr Horner doesn’t have time to waste collecting mail,” she said. “I’ll be down in a minute to sign for it.”

She slammed the phone back on the receiver before setting a quick pace to the elevator and pressing the button repeatedly until it arrived. As soon as those doors closed you were moving to the office, armed with a print of Christian’s thumb you had lifted from your phone screen. Maybe the olive branch wasn’t as much a gift of goodwill as you made him believe.

The scanner turned green and you grinned to the camera above the door as you turned the handle, the other hand pulling the wig off your head.

You were bored by the time Christian finally opened his office door to find you reclining in his chair with your ankles crossed over his desk.

“Janine, did you let Y/N in here?” he called out to his PA who had been busy working away since she returned empty handed from reception, oblivious to your presence across the hall.

“I haven’t let anyone in, Sir.” She stood up and peered through the glass walls before her eyes widened with surprise when you waved your fingers her way. “Shall I call security?”

“No need, thank you,” Christian said before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “How did you get in here?”

“We can talk through the security shortcomings once I’ve signed my contract,” you said with a smile as you unplugged the thumb drive that had been set up with an auto-run program to scan through all the files on Christian’s computer and you tossed it to the stunned boss. “You’ll probably want to destroy that.”

Christian stared at the small piece of tech that had just tethered your futures together and he sighed as he pushed your feet off the desk. “No one sits in my chair. Scoot.”

You jumped to your feet with a mocking salute before making your way to the chair you had sat in only yesterday. “Yes, boss. Oh, and I took the liberty of downloading the security feed, for educational purposes of course.” 

“Of course you did,” he groaned and rubbed at his temples. “So what name am I putting on the damn contract?”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out your ID and a letter with your tax details before sliding them over to him. “Do you know how much harder it was to get a passport in my bona fide birth name? That seems crazy to me.”

A quick rise of his eyebrows was the only indication he agreed with you as he scanned your documents and sent them to HR. “It’ll take them a little while to put the document together.”

“That’s fine, Max will probably still be in bed,” you replied as you lay down on the couch to get comfortable.

Miraculously, the contract was sent through only five minutes later and you borrowed Christian’s fountain pen to sign your name on every line after speed reading through the standard clauses. 

“I’m not your enemy, Horner,” you said as the nib hovered over the final page. “I really am here to help protect Max, and I’m the only one who knows the lengths desperate people go to in this business to win.”

For once he seemed to find your words sincere as he sat back in his chair and sighed, a look of guilt and regret in those tired blue eyes. “You’re not the only one.”

The moment hung heavy as you understood what he was admitting before accepting it with a nod. “Then you know why we have to do better.”

Max looked like he was still waking up when you stepped into the room a little after 10am. He really wasn’t a morning person and you smiled as he blinked up at you from where he hugged his pillow, his hair sticking up at all angles from tossing and turning. 

“Good morning, baby,” you greeted him, placing his coffee order beside the bed before sitting at the edge. 

He sat up with a groan and shifted so he was leaning against the headboard before pulling you onto his lap and burying his face in your neck. “Nothing’s good about mornings,” he murmured. “How did it go?” 

You leaned back into his embrace and pulled out your phone. “Want to see?”

“After,” he said as he took your phone and placed it next to his coffee. “I missed my morning cuddles.”

You turned in his arms so you were straddling his hips and you could mirror him, resting your cheek in the curve of his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied before he rolled with you in his arms and nuzzled his face into the valley of your breasts, getting cozy as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Move in with me.”

Your finger caught in a knot and he winced as you tugged free of it but you had been caught off guard. “You want me to move in with you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” he stated with his blunt sense of humour that made you smile. “Unless you like breaking in.”

“I mean,” you shrugged nonchalantly before he prodded your ribs and a laugh broke free. “There is a certain thrill to some B&E, spices up the relationship don’t you think?”

“Just say yes so we can celebrate and go home.” Max’s hands slipped under your shirt and his thumbs drew circles over your ribs as they climbed higher. “Say yes.”

“Yes, Max,” you giggled as you wrapped your legs around his waist and captured his face in your palms. “I’ve never had a real home before.”

He pushed himself up until his entire body covered yours and his blue eyes stared into your soul as you shared the same breath. “You do now.”

Click here for part six.

Tagging: @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky

[unforgivenn]

16th HOUR — #5: Marked for sale

Masterlist/ Previous

CW: dehumanization, captivity, non-con medical procedures, implied threats of sexual violence, physical restraint, psychological torment

The room was stark, bathed in harsh white light that bounced off the gleaming surfaces and sterile instruments. The antiseptic smell was overpowering, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of blood that Samuel had begun to associate with his new reality.

Two technicians, masked and gloved, awaited him with cold, clinical efficiency. They moved with practiced precision, their expressions hidden behind masks, their eyes detached and impersonal.

"Strip," one of them ordered, the command devoid of emotion. Samuel hesitated, a flush of humiliation rising in his cheeks.

"W-What..?"

The technician's eyes narrowed, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. "Now."

When Samuel only returned a glare, the technician sighed. He flinched as his hands were seized and his clothes were roughly removed, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. He tried to shield himself with his arms, but the guards were relentless, their hands unyielding as they forced him to the table.

"STOP! LET GO!!" His lips were trembling, his mind going insane with the thoughts of what they were going to do to him. "D-Don't do it please..."

This was it. They were going to do the thing he had been fearing since the moment he got here. He was going to be raped. Or maybe even worse.

The men laughed only adding to Samuel's confusion and his tears. "Hey now. There's no fun in having a used toy y'know. Your owner could do those things you have going on in your dirty little mind later."

"N-No.. I wasn't- I.." Samuel's cheeks flushed in embarrassed and he only continued struggling wishing that would somehow fit the hole of what he was trying to say.

One of the guards were going to smack him on the face, before the other stopped him. Samuel flinched, kind of surprised there was someone with even a tad bit of humanity left in them.

That innocent thinking was gone soon enough though when the other spoke to the guard.

"We need him to be in his best condition. I don't think he'll be looking presentable with a damn bruise on his face." He said with a scowl, which Samuel could make out was half directed towards him. The guard only rolled his eyes before forcing him on the table.

Restraints snapped around his wrists and ankles, pinning him down. He struggled, panic surging through him, but the bonds were unyielding.

The other technician approached with a handheld scanner, its screen flickering to life as it passed over Samuel's body. "Subject 42, S class," he read aloud, his tone monotonous. "Begin prep for auction."

Auction. The word sent a chill down Samuel's spine, a reminder of the dehumanizing fate that awaited him. He would be paraded before the highest bidders, reduced to a mere commodity in a world that saw him as less than human.

He had wanted nothing more than to kick these bastard's faces and ask them what the actual fuck was wrong with them? But now he was the one being asked these questions.

As the technicians began their work, Samuel's mind drifted back to his life before the classification, when he was simply Samuel—a boy with dreams, friends, and a future. The memories felt like fragments of a distant past, slipping through his fingers like sand.

One of the technicians roughly grabbed his arm, inserting an intravenous line with ease. The cool rush of fluids coursing through his veins brought him back to the present, a stark reminder of his reality.

"Hold still," the technician muttered, adjusting the flow. Samuel winced at the sharp sting, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he fought to suppress the rising panic. He was determined to retain some sense of control, even in the face of overwhelming fear.

The other technician approached with a tray of instruments, their metallic surfaces gleaming ominously under the fluorescent lights. Samuel's breath hitched as he recognized some of the tools—restraints, measuring devices, and branding irons.

"Prepare the restraints," one technician instructed, his voice cutting through Samuel's thoughts. They moved with efficient brutality, securing his limbs to the cold metal frame that dominated the center of the room. Samuel's skin prickled against the unyielding surface, the restraints biting into his flesh.

He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his breathing steady. The technicians worked in silence, their actions methodical and detached, their faces masks of indifference.

"Subject 42, ready for inspection," one of them announced, stepping back to assess their work. Samuel lay splayed on the table, his body exposed and vulnerable, a living testament to the cruelty of the system that had condemned him.

The door to the room opened with a hiss, and a figure entered—a man in a tailored suit, his presence exuding an air of authority. Samuel's pulse quickened as the man's gaze swept over him, appraising him with a calculated detachment.

"Excellent," the man said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "He'll fetch a high price."

Samuel's stomach churned, bile rising in his throat. He was being evaluated like livestock, his worth determined by the whims of those who saw him as nothing more than property. The indignity of it all burned within him, a simmering rage that threatened to consume him.

The man approached, his fingers brushing over Samuel's branded skin, tracing the letters that marked him as property. Samuel fought the urge to recoil, his muscles tensing under the man's touch.

"Don't worry," the man said, his voice a mockery of reassurance. "You'll find a good home. Someone will take care of you."

Samuel's eyes blazed with defiance, a fire that refused to be extinguished. "I'm not a pet," he spat, the words laced with venom. "I'm a person."

The man chuckled, a low, condescending sound. "Not anymore," he replied, his tone dripping with arrogance. "You're whatever we say you are."

The technician injected something into Samuel's IV line, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. His vision blurred, the edges of the room growing hazy as the sedative took effect. He struggled to hold onto consciousness, to maintain his grip on reality, but it slipped through his grasp like water.

As the world faded to black, Samuel clung to a single, burning thought—a promise to himself and to the others who suffered alongside him. He would survive. He would endure. And one day, he would reclaim his humanity from those who sought to strip it away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Samuel awoke in a dimly lit room, the sterile white replaced by a more subdued, yet equally oppressive, atmosphere. His head throbbed, the remnants of the sedative lingering in his system. He tried to move, but the restraints held him firmly in place.

He was no longer alone. The figures whispered among themselves sending shivers down Samuel's spine.

"Look at this one," one of them said, his voice dripping with curiosity. "Quite a specimen, isn't it?"

Another figure approached, leaning over Samuel with an appraising gaze. "Indeed. It'll be a popular choice."

He didn't know what was more scary. The fact that these people were calling him an 'it' or the fact these people were staring at him like they were ready to tear him apart.

Samuel's heart raced, panic rising in his chest. He was being inspected, evaluated like a piece of merchandise. The reality of his situation settled over him like a suffocating blanket, each breath a struggle against the crushing weight of despair.

The figures moved with unsettling precision, their hands tracing over his body, noting every detail. Samuel clenched his jaw, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

"Prepare him for display," one of them ordered, stepping back. "The auction is about to begin."

Samuel's stomach churned at the words. Display. Auction. He was about to be paraded before a crowd of potential buyers, his fate determined by the highest bidder. The thought made him sick, a wave of nausea washing over him.

They worked quickly, removing the restraints and lifting him onto his feet. Samuel's legs wobbled, weakened by the drugs and the strain of his ordeal. He stumbled, but a firm hand caught him, steadying him with a rough grip.

"Stand up straight," the figure commanded, their tone harsh and unforgiving. "You need to make a good impression."

"And if I don't?" The words slipped past his lips before he could realize. The man only leaned in close to his ear, and Samuel couldn't suppress the flinch that went through him.

"Well then, we have some other measures to make you listen as well. Surely you wouldn't like your head to be dipped underwater continuously until you become obedient, would you?" What scared Samuel more was the smile maintained on the man's face while he spoke.

Samuel gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand tall despite the trembling in his limbs. Just how sadistic were each one of these bastards?

They dressed him in simple, clean clothes and moisturized his skin making it glow. The fabric felt foreign against his skin and the moisturizer only itched him. They groomed him meticulously, every detail attended to with an almost obsessive precision.

His hands were tied behind his back, and his ankles were snapped with cuffs tight enough so that he could walk but wont be able to run.

"It's ready," one of them said, stepping back to admire their handiwork.

"I'm not an 'it'"

"Shush. Now listen. You will keep your head down throughout the auction. You will only speak when spoken to. You will not struggle or fight. You will not be defiant. And you will behave. If we get any trouble because of you, I swear to gods I will make you regret it."

What the lady said basically went through one ear and out the other. Before he could question anymore, he was pushed to a large wooden door.

What was up with these people and their obsession with pushing?

The door opened, and Samuel was led down a corridor lined with ornate decorations that seemed out of place in such a grim setting.

They reached a set of heavy curtains, the barrier between Samuel and his uncertain future. He could hear the murmur of voices beyond, the eager anticipation of those who awaited the auction.

His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the blood rush to his ears. He was on the bound of a panic attack. After going through so much, now he was scared?

The man beside him gave a final, appraising look before nodding. "Do as you're told, and you might just survive."

Samuel swallowed hard, his mouth dry with fear. The curtains began to part, revealing the crowd beyond. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his breathing steady steeling himself for what lay ahead.

As the curtains fully opened, the auctioneer's voice boomed through the room, welcoming the eager bidders. Samuel stepped forward, the weight of a thousand eyes upon him, each one assessing, judging, determining his worth.

One day, he would reclaim his freedom from the chains that bound him. For now, he would play their game, but he would never forget who he truly was.

The auction had begun, and Samuel's fate hung in the balance, but his spirit remained unbroken, a beacon of resilience in the face of overwhelming darkness as bids began storming in.

Next

Reblogs are appreciated

PS- Guys, I'm actually really busy nowadays, and my writing asks have been storming in. Especially for BTBH. Asks are still open, and I will be answering those asks, but I can't confirm that it'll be soon.

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[tinynerdz360]

Future Ghost Chapter 11 New Mission

Krik sat in his office waiting for an important call from command.

Kirk's computer terminal beeped with an urgent hail from Starfleet Command. He tapped the screen to accept the call. Admiral Nogura's stern face appeared, his brow furrowed.

"Captain Kirk, we need to discuss your report on the stowaway...this time traveler, Danny Fenton," the Admiral said, his tone clipped.

Kirk tensed. He had a feeling this conversation was coming, but he wasn't looking forward to it. "Yes, Admiral, I’ve made a detailed report on him. What else would you like to know?"

Nogura leaned forward, staring intently through the screen. "Is there any possible connection between this boy and the disappearance of Amity? Ensign Gray brought us concerning findings about unusual energy signatures at the crater site. But damn it, Kirk, we've lost so much data from the wars. It's beyond frustrating." The admiral shook his head wearily. “What baffles me is that nobody, and I mean nobody noticed a whole city was gone. All these decades, not a mention of it.”

Kirk blinked in surprise, not expecting that to be the first topic at hand. It looks like Chekov’s friend had gone to Starfleet with her findings. Kirk chose his words carefully. "At this point, we haven’t asked him about it. We had some concerns about his ability to handle such news. He’s already stranded in time. We’re giving him more time before we break the news to him. But as far as we can tell, we don't have evidence directly linking Danny to Amity's disappearance.” However, Kirk knew more than he was letting on. The boy's abilities, his true nature...but Kirk needed to protect him.

"Our scientists have been studying the site and noticed some unusual phenomena." The admiral's eyes narrowed. "For one, there's a distinct lack of signs of weapon use. No residual energy signatures, no debris patterns consistent with known weaponry."

Kirk nodded. "That is strange. Have the scientists there found anything, maybe in historical documents?"

The admiral shook his head, frustration evident in his tone. "That's the problem, Kirk. With so much data lost during the wars, we can't even pinpoint exactly when the city vanished. It could have been at the beginning, in the middle, or even after the conflicts ended."

Kirk's fingers drummed on the armrest of his chair, a nervous habit he'd never quite been able to shake. "What about the crater itself? Anything unusual there?"

"Yes, and it's deeply concerning." The admiral's image flickered, the transmission wavering momentarily before stabilizing. "The crater is in a state of stasis, almost as if time itself has stopped within its boundaries. The soil remains barren, no signs of life or growth. It's as if the very essence of the place has been drained away."

Kirk tapped his chin in thought. “Maybe these energy beings from this Zone Danny mentioned have something to do with it?”

The admiral's expression turned grave. "It's a possibility.”

Kirk's thoughts turned to the enigmatic teenager under his command.

"There's something else, Kirk." The admiral's voice jolted him back to the present. "The energy interference around the crater is playing havoc with our equipment. Sensors malfunction, scanners give false readings. And some of our scientists...they've been affected too."

Kirk sat up straighter, alarm bells ringing in his head. "Affected how?"

"It's like they're in a trance. They keep leaving the site, drawn away by some unseen force. We've had to establish a quarantine zone just to keep them contained. Once they're far from the crater, they return to normal with no memory of the place."

Kirk met the admiral's gaze, determination etched into every line of his face. "I'll get to the bottom of this, Admiral. You have my word."

The admiral nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. "I know you will, Kirk. But be careful. We're dealing with forces beyond our understanding. Tread lightly and keep a close eye on that boy."

"Oh, and Kirk," the admiral's voice cut through Kirk's musings, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. "There's another situation that requires your immediate attention."

Kirk straightened in his seat, his eyes sharp and focused. "Go ahead, Admiral."

The admiral's face was grave, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening with concern. "We've lost contact with the science vessel USS Hades. They were studying a newly discovered planet, one with the ruins of a long-dead alien civilization."

Kirk frowned, a sense of unease settling in his gut. "Lost contact? For how long?"

"Nearly 48 hours now," the admiral replied, his voice tight. "Their last transmission mentioned a distress call from the planet's surface, but we haven't been able to raise them since."

Kirk's mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. A distress call from an unknown planet, a science team gone silent... it had all the makings of a mystery and a dangerous one at that.

"We'll investigate immediately, Admiral," Kirk said, his voice firm and resolute. "I'll have my crew prepare for departure within the hour."

The admiral nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "Good. But Kirk... be careful. We don't know what you'll find down there."

Kirk's jaw tightened, his eyes hardening with determination. "We'll take every precaution, Admiral. But we will get to the bottom of this.

Kirk stood from his chair, straightening his uniform as he moved towards the door. The conversation with Admiral Nogura played over in his mind, the weight of his responsibility as captain pressing down on his shoulders. He had to ensure the safety of his crew, but he also felt a strong need to protect Danny, the mysterious teenager with abilities beyond anything he'd encountered before.

Kirk called his senior officers in for a meeting about their next mission.

Kirk turned to his senior officers, his expression grave. "We have a situation," he began, his voice carrying the weight of command. "The USS Hades has gone silent. They were studying ruins on a newly discovered planet when they sent out a distress call. Our orders are to investigate and render assistance."

Uhura's eyes widened, concern etched on her face. "A distress call? What could have happened?"

"Unknown," Kirk replied, his brow furrowed. "But we'll find out. Spock, I want you to coordinate with the science department. Gather all available data on that planet and the Hades' mission."

Spock nodded, already mentally compiling the necessary information. "Understood, Captain."

Kirk's gaze shifted to Scotty, the ship's chief engineer. "Scotty, I need the Enterprise ready for anything. Make sure all systems are at peak performance."

Scotty grinned a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Aye, Captain. She'll be purring like a kitten."

Kirk allowed a small smile before his expression turned serious once more. "There's one more thing," he said, his voice low. "The admiral has concerns about our young stowaway, Danny. He wants us to keep a close eye on him and report any unusual behavior."

McCoy frowned, his protective instincts flaring. "Jim, the kid hasn’t done anything wrong. We can't treat him like a suspect."

Kirk held up a hand, his eyes understanding but firm. "I know, Bones. But we have our orders. We'll handle this delicately, but we need to be vigilant."

As the meeting adjourned, Kirk's thoughts turned to Danny. The boy was an enigma, his abilities both fascinating and potentially dangerous. Kirk knew he would have to tread carefully, balancing his duty to Starfleet with his instinct to protect the young hybrid.

The crew bustled with activity as they prepared for the mission, a sense of urgency and anticipation filling the air. In the science labs, Spock and his team pored over the limited data on the mysterious planet, searching for any clues that might shed light on the Hades fate.

And on the bridge, Kirk sat in his command chair, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen as the stars streaked past. 

Chapter 12

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Bad Batch 3.1 ‘Confined’ Recap

Image from this post by @isthereanechoinhere96

Fuck you for starting with that line

Why are the captions in a serif font?

Going heavy on the theme of freedom for the clones already in the recap. Foreshadowing?

Rex!

CODY

Meme by u/No-Needleworker5295 on Reddit

Ah fuck here we go again

Why must I be made to relive this?

Damn the music is really hitting hard and it’s only the recap

Spoilers for Season 3 below!

Mayday! *sobs*

Oh great, it’s fuck face again

Hemlock being a bastard as per usual

Poor Omega

“Prisoner? Omega, you are no such thing.” Said to the child kept in a cage.

Still not trusting and heavily side eyeing Emerie

Why do they let Omega carry around a little lunchbox? That seems like an obvious security risk. As does the cell with a window, even if it has a heavy grate on it.

LMAO Crosshair looks the saddest, wettest, most bedraggled little meow meow in existence

Who are those other clones??? I must know

Why are they taking blood samples from the top of the hand? That seems like the least useful place to take it from

“All of us serve a purpose here” Big oof

The shots and framing are making it pretty clear that the blood, and Omega's blood in particular, is important

So many commandos with the glowing visors

Oh, it’s a door scanner. I thought Omega was sitting in a cell in that shot in the trailer

Nala Se (derogatory)

Lmao that wasn’t even subtle. She just destroyed Omega’s blood sample without even hiding what she was doing

“This research, it’s not like what we did on Kamino, is it?” Pretty sure what you did on Kamino was just as horrific. Though you can’t really blame Omega for that seeing as she’s a literal child who was also probably experimented on

M-count. That’s midi-chlorians isn’t it. Lol they aren’t even being subtle about this. Force sensitive clones ahoy!

“Experiments on the specimens” Jesus H Christ

Vault? That doesn’t bode well

Everything about this episode is very eerie and sinister

Ok that is an excessive, overkill amount of security. Who the fuck is in there?

And straight into electrocuting space dogs. Great.

I knew the lunchbox was for hiding something!

Batcher? Aw, she named them after the Bad Batch

Yes, stick your arm into the cage with the aggressive space dog. That’s a good idea

Nuggies???

He was shivering T_T

Who are all of these clones??? I keep pausing the video and zooming in but I can’t see any identifying characteristics on any of them yet. 

And there he is

Oh fuck Crosshair’s hand is shaking. I know most people have probably watched the clip of this already but I deliberately didn’t. Shaking hands for a sniper is Not Good. That’s his right hand too, so presumably his trigger hand/finger/whatever it’s called? Is this a physical injury inflicted on him by their experiments or PTSD or both?

I’m intrigued at how much relative freedom they’re giving Omega. She’s not being kept in a cell all the time like the other clones. Though I suppose this is part of their plan to make Nala Se cooperate.

Ok the tap dripping in Omega’s cell is definitely a visual metaphor for how repetitive, dreary, and isolating this all is

That’s 21 tally marks

Oh, she made a straw Lula. Ow

[shrieking in distance] – what shrieking? Captions, what are you going on about?

Oh fuck that’s a lot of tally marks. And a hair change. Lots of time has clearly passed. They’ve updated Omega’s model too but I think it’s a tad heavy handed as she hasn’t aged that much.

Wow, she didn’t even look at Crosshair. Is this attitude change Omega being ground down by what’s happening to her or something she’s doing deliberately to try and play along and be more cooperative so she can find out about more stuff? Also, that’s the second time she’s walked past Crosshair in the same spot at the same time of the day. That seems deliberate. 

Lol could you be any more obvious with the lighting in that shot that Omega’s blood is important? It’s like the vial of her blood has a moody spotlight on it. Important plot point here!

Nooooo Batcher’s hurt 😭

Bacta sponge?

“If I get the chance to escape, I wouldn’t think twice about leaving you behind.” Hmmm, you keep telling yourself that Crosshair

“I’m not them.” T_T

“Don’t risk anything for me. I belong in here.” Oooooooooowwwwwwwww

“None of us belong in here.” Damn right

There is some really lovely cinematography and framing in this scene between Omega and Crosshair

Well that was brutal and heavy handed

A successful transfer? A successful transfer of what?

The “specimen” has a high M-count. So they’re force sensitive. Now for the speculation on who it is?

“You should not question my loyalty to science, Doctor.” LMAO bitch what?

Urgh, of course they’re killing the dog once it’s friendly

Ahahaha squished

Aw, she’s setting Batcher free but she doesn’t want to go. 

“I didn’t know you were so cruel, Omega.” Oh fuck right off

Piss weak attempt to help there Emerie

Hemlock getting his evil baddie laugh moment

Clever. Omega knows why she’s here.

Urgh, of course Hemlock would threaten Crosshair to get Omega to cooperate.

Re-education?!?!?! You sick fuck

“Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.” I am really hoping that line comes back to bite him in the ass later on

Oh fuck off with bring back the doll Emerie. That is such a bait to try and get Omega to like her and behave

That’s 164 tally marks. Omega’s been on Mount Tantiss for 5 and a half months

Aw, Batcher made it out. And that’s the crashed shuttle from earlier that she’s howling on the top of. More foreshadowing?

[honourablejester]

A thought for a sci-fi ghost story.

I was thinking about science fiction and horror in proximity, how to do gothic in space, and I’ll come back to that, I’m percolating on it. But I was sidetracked by a thought about ghost ships. Which can mean anything from an abandoned ship drifting without power, to a ship full of ghosts, to the ghost of a ship. And that. That last one.

You all remember in Event Horizon (1997), when they realise that the rescue ship’s scanners are registering the Event Horizon itself as ‘alive’? The idea of the ship itself as the ghost.

And I’ve been watching some air crash investigation stuff lately, including some tragic CVR recordings, and I remembered one which was just the pilot pleading something along the lines of ‘come on, girl, don’t do this to me, don’t crash on me’.

And in the animated anthology series ‘Love, Death and Robots’, there was a short called ‘Lucky 13’, about an unlucky ship that got a pilot that cared, and may or may not have been sentient enough to make its death count to try and save said pilot.

So I was thinking. There’s a hulk, drifting in space. It’s an old, old hulk, a ship from centuries ago. It’s been spotted here or there a couple dozen times throughout galactic history. Nobody who goes near it comes back. But the thing about it is, it’s not drifting. It can’t be drifting. Because plotting the locations it’s been seen, assuming that the reports are real, it’s been covering a lot of distance in those centuries. Nowhere close to what a ship under actual power would cover, it’s heartbreakingly slow, but it’s covering ground. Or space, rather. It’s moving. Almost as if it’s still being piloted.

And that’s not really possible. Every scan of the ship from someone who survived shows that it’s dead. Dead dead. Whatever power plant was in there is gutted or gone. There is not a shred of motivating power left in her. She’s a hulk. There is no power, there are no life signs, there is no motivating force. Now, granted, every scan of the ship that survived came from ships that kept their distance. Nothing’s out there from someone who got close. But still. She’s dead. She’s a hunk of floating metal. There is nothing in her that should be able to let her move.

But she is. She’s moving. Slowly, oh, so achingly slowly, but she’s moving. She’s going somewhere. Power or no power, life or no life. Four hundred years down the line, she still has somewhere to go.

And maybe we follow a team who spots her. Maybe they were hunting her, the mysterious white whale of the salvaging community, or maybe it was a ship on its own business who stumbled across her, but they see her. And they get close. And they board her.

And things happen. Terrifying things. Things in their heads, things not in their heads. A hulk that’s been dead and powerless and airless and frozen for four hundred years, but things move inside her. Things open. Things close. Systems flare with phantom life. She wants them out. She wants them gone. Get out, get away, leave me alone. Leave me and mine alone.

But someone’s stubborn. And someone stays, someone keeps pushing. Someone finds the thing at the core of her that she was so desperate to defend.

Her power plant is gone. Damn near ripped apart. Whatever happened to her, whatever she ran into all those centuries ago, it did catastrophic damage to her. Absolutely unsurvivable damage. But not instant damage. Not enough to blow her up on the spot. She fought all the way down. And so did her crew. So did her crew. Because the bodies are still there. Scattered, here or there, lying where they fell, the trail of breadcrumbs across the ship that she was doing everything in her power to drive intruders away from. Guarding their bodies. Guarding their rest.

There’s a recording. When they find the first of the bodies, and they don’t touch them, when she realises they’re not going to touch them, she lets them onto the bridge. There’s a ‘recording’. Nothing real. Nothing recoverable. There’s no power. Nothing left alive to record anything. But the boarding team ‘sees’ the recording anyway, phantom signals on a black screen. Phantom voices over dead comms.

“Come on, girl. Come on, girl. Give me just a little bit more. Come on. Come on. We’re so close. One more jump and we’re home. Come on, girl, you can do this. Just a little bit more. Please.”

And she couldn’t. She couldn’t. She didn’t have a little bit more. But by god, by god, she will get them home now. The slow way. The hard way. No engines. No jumps. By no power but her own sheer determination. Desperation. Loyalty. She couldn’t save them. But she will get them home.

The ship is a ghost. There’s no crew. They’re all dead, they’re all gone. They didn’t stay with her. No spirits linger except hers. She’s all alone. But it doesn’t matter. She failed them then. She won’t now. The ghost of a dead ship will carry their bodies home. No matter how long it takes, or how far she has to go. Some loyalties last beyond death. And hers is one of them.

Leave her alone. Leave them alone. She has to carry them home.

… Yeah. I had a thought for science fiction ghost story? The story of the ghost … of a ship. Heh.

[sleepyheadincoulds]

Each Song Explained

NOTE: Some things may not be cannon to the story, and each chapter is 20 songs or possibly more or less!

Prologue + Chapter 1

[Prologue]

Middle of Nowhere

During the student orientation 

Yeah she’s lost guys ☹️

Goodnight Dad I Love You

First night alone but in Ramshackle

She’s a daddy’s girl guys and she’s never once not said goodnight to her dad

Police Scanner

Her first day at NRC

Learning about the school and becoming aware of her surroundings

“Self-care / Self-aware / Good people out of view / Soul to bare / Changes come / Something strange, yeah, something new”

Fluxxwave

Just a vibe, but when she first meets Ace and Deuce and gets in trouble for the chandelier and stuff

ketamine

Another vibe

When everything is fixed and Emmanuel and Grim become students

[Chapter 1]

Where’s Your Head At

When Ace comes to Emmanuel about his situation with Riddle

In a World of My Own

When Emmanuel first comes to Heartslabyul to meet Cater

Heartslabyul reminds her childhood memories

Babydoll

Making a tart after being kicked out of Heartslabyul by Cater

Sixteen

“You've been a juvenile / With a dolphin smile”

Reference to Ace

“You're only sixteen / Try to cross the line / But your little wings are intertwined / You're only sixteen / And you're such a tease And there's nothing you do / That can really please”

When things start to get out of hand during the Unbirthday

Painting the Roses Red / March of the Cards + The Queen of Hearts / Who’s Been Painting My Roses Red?

Emmanuel starting to get dragged into this mess

Mr. Brett

Emmanuel trying to defend Ace

“Mr. Brett, we won't pay that fee / To keep you livin' in luxury / Some say genius, some say mistake / But you've become what you used to hate”

Mr. Knowitall

“They call me Mr. Knowitall / I will not compromise. / I will not be told what to do. / I shall not step aside.”

Beefing with Riddle and Riddle insulting Emmanuel of where she came from

Riddle: “Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. And as a result... You lack even the basic education necessary to attend a school such as this. It's quite sad.”

Loose

Ace stepped in to defend Emmanuel

Deuce: “You little...”

Ace: “You shut your spoiled little mouth!”

Emmanuel: “Damn!”

“Watch these fuckers jump when I get loose”

Purity

“Someone find me, please, losing all reserve / I'm fucking gone, I think I'm fucking dying / Hands on my face, overbearing, I can't get out!”

Overblot

Emmanuel is literally dying from Riddle’s impacts

Cardiac arrest pt. 1

“There's something inside me / You all stare, but you'll never see / There's something inside me / You all stare, but you'll never see / There's something inside me / You all stare, but you'll never / see / There's something in you l despise!”

“I am willing and able and never any danger to myself / Knowledge in my pain, knowledge in my pain / Or was my tolerance a phase? / Empathy, out of my way / I can't die! / I can't die! / I can't die! / I can't die!”

Home Recording

When Emmanuel is under a coma after cardiac arrest

Just for one day

Fight For Your Right

Mostly when Emmanuel, Ace, Deuce become a trio (officially)

They’re gonna be a headache for Riddle (Emmanuel may be a bit mischievous)

The Judge

Emmanuel and Riddle kinda starting to form a bond

Emmanuel was a bit hesitant to trust him but understood about his past

“You're the judge, oh, no / Set me free / You're the judge, oh, no / Set me free / I know my soul's freezing / Hell's hot for good reason / So please, take me”

Emmanuel is the ‘judge’

Unbirthday Song

Yay! A good Unbirthday party! 😸

HOT TO GO!

A happy ending for this chapter of Emmanuel’s journey :)

Emmanuel’s song

Headcannon: She will teach them the dance

[agent-calivide]

I don't have anything more than scraps, but for the luvva god I'm gonna figure out something to analyze with Daniel Sans' 3 lines of dialogue and 2 bonus appearances for @lunacornfan2k24 because goddammit this man needs acknowledgement

Slight change up of formula, but because there's so little about him, I'm nitpicking the shit out of every single appearance like a vulture rather than doing broad strokes with occasional references to canon.

So, he appears first in the phone message on Friendly Skies, and honestly I think this one has a lot more to pick apart than you'd get at a first glance.

"Zor, there is an urgent matter that we must discuss. Contact me on a secure line immediately!"

The first thing I notice is how he addresses Zor. Not doctor, not a title of authority. He just calls them Zor. There's something so... innately trusting in that. He's not just another lackey, he's not just a high ranking official, even Solaris who technically outranks him calls them Doctor Zor. There is an innate trust there that is only rivaled by what we see between the Fabricator and Zor, and even then she usually calls them Doctor. Sure, we see other people just casually call Zor that when talking about them like "get Zor on the phone" or something similar, but to immediately jump into the message with "Zor" no title or greeting or anything similar, it shows that Sans has a certain mutual respect with Zor.

This is further confirmed by how he tells Zor to contact him. There's no "at your soonest convenience please get back to me." He demands Zor get back to him, once more showing a certain level of trust. Urgency or not, feeling confident that you can talk to your boss like that shows that there is some form of respect or even trust between you and them. Maybe I'm a wuss, but I could never talk to my managers like that, and they don't have a kill count.

Something else I also find interesting is that he's researching the development of a supervirus. Specifically a supervirus. The phrasing is interesting to me, because that implies that he's not just researching into chemistry, he's looking into biology. You can make a poison out of damn near anything, but to have it specifically be a virus implies infection, something organic. I think this is why they were fronting as a shampoo factory. It's a little thing, but by having their cover be chemistry to support biology, Sans was likely able to get more organic compounds for the supervirus without raising any red flags to support Zoraxis.

The next thing we hear, or rather see, from Daniel Sans is a note he left for Ashley Lincoln, the scientist who's looking into an antivirus.

"ATTN: Dr. Ashley Lincoln It has come to our attention that you are engaging in unauthorized anti-virus research after hours. Management advocates that there are better uses for personal time, such as spending it at home with your family. It would be a shame if something were to happen to theme while you were in the lab working on an unapproved project. Dr Daniel Sans"

This tells us a whole lot about Sans as a person. Firstly, he keeps a tight ship around there, there is a security system, cameras, automated messages, lasers, key card scanners, there's even a fucking sign that basically amounts to a more threatening "Smile, you're on camera" poster. He's shown to be very type A, organized and making safety nets for his safety net's safety nets. That is a ton of security in place, and all of that pays off for Sans in the end, really. He does catch Lincoln and makes it clear in no uncertain terms that what she is doing is unacceptable and if she doesn't stop there will be consequences.

And even if all, all of that fails, there's a plan Z in place: Just launch the virus early. He was able to weaponize Lincoln's own research against her, the virus chute identifies the antivirus as such. Regardless if he did the research on his own or if he found Lincoln's little clues or even found all of her research, he knew to look into the antivirus and have the lab try to identify it as such to prevent anything from being sabotaged. That shows not only intelligence, but amazing foresight frankly.

And once the antivirus is blocked, we learn even more about his character as the prerecorded message plays.

"Found a conscience, despite our threats! Well, I'm afraid you won't have a chance to use your antivirus. We're changing the time table and launching the supervirus... today!"

This goes to show that Sans isn't just working at Zoraxis for a benefit like Solaris or to pursue art like Fabricator and Juniper, he is just evil and revels in it. He calls out that Lincoln "found a conscience" implying that Sans not only does not have one, but unabashedly doesn't give a fuck that he doesn't. He excitedly exclaims "You're too late!" and has an evil laugh. Even more damning, when the automated voice plays a little yellow light flashes above the intercom, but when Sans' recording plays it turns red.

This man had his intercom system flash a red light whenever he made an announcement. Number one, iconic flare for the dramatics, but for two, it just goes to show that he is evil and he prides himself on it. Be it his own interests, his passions, or (what I think it really is) an unwavering loyalty to Zoraxis, he knows that his moral compass is pointing south and he doesn't give a damn either way.

The next reference we see to Sans (and the final one you get in-game) is his nameplate in the base in Madrid. The main thing I want to call attention to is the position Daniel Sans is seated in, directly to Zor's right. It makes this feeling of Sans being Zor's right-hand man, which is supported by all the previous depictions we get of him. Happily being evil, giving Zor a warning the second he found something to be wrong, having no issues with causing harm on a massive scale, blackmailing traitors directly to keep people in line and under Zor's thumb. He is functionally acting like a right-hand in this game, even if he's not the final boss. Save for the Handler, Sans is the one who appears in the most levels in the first IEYTD, even if he has the least lines. He never gets that evil one-to-one moment with the Agent, but he's also everywhere in passing.

The last thing I want to call out is Daniel Sans' interview.

Here, we see Sans really, truly vouching for not just Zoraxis, but Doctor Zor themselves, as well as the whole "People call it "evil", but I call it "misunderstood"" line.

I think this is the most telling piece of information we get on Sans, even if it's not directly in the games. Here, we see him willing to put his neck on the line after a massive scandal, using his full legal name even if he's not disclosing his job title. He's defending Zor and keeping as close to secrecy as he can while still trying to put out the wildfires. We don't hear directly from anyone other than Solaris, not so much as a mention of Hivemind or Caliente or even Ulanova despite the fact Professor X-Ray was mentioned. He is absolutely going up to bat to cover Zoraxis' ass to at least make the corporation not look totally lost, even if he's kind of doing a terrible job at keeping suspicions low. But this article also leads to the real kicker here...

Despite this respect he holds for Zor, this unwavering loyalty, he's... not really that important, and not even in just a lore sense. That sounds really mean- but in the hierarchy of military terms like lieutenant, commander, etc, lieutenant is a really low rank. It's the lowest in most countries, and when you've got commander Solaris right there in the same game it really almost emphasizes it. He's a mid-level employee. He's spearheaded dangerous, deadly projects. He's taken regulating his employees into his own hands. He sat at Zor's right hand side and took malicious joy in the pain that he caused for others, and yet he's just a lieutenant. High enough that he's attached to Zoraxis, but low enough that he doesn't actually have significant authority.

I may be tap-dancing my way into speculation station, but it almost feels insulting to Sans. Like Zor wants him to stay a low rank, only barely above a grunt. Sans has shown himself to think he's got an in with Zor, he's the first one to defend them when given the chance, he's the one who will burn to the ground alongside Zor when every other operative has betrayed them besides Fabricator...

and it doesn't matter.

Zor. Doesn't. Care.

And that's the tragedy of it all. Sans is laying down in mud puddles for someone who will just walk around them without so much as a sideways glance, much less appreciate it.

[meenawrites]

Spider's BackUp Plan

Should I be studying right now? Absolutely. Am i? No, but if I get this out maybe it will put me at ease enough to.

SO inspired by a reply from @silverringeddragon, I've been thinking about how scared Spider is that he'll be sent to Earth once he's old enough, or just the possibility of being made to leave, especially after that one occurrence in the comics where he was almost forced to leave with his foster family, and just what that would entail for him.

I've seen this in a few fics as well, so I just wanted to put my take out there.

I think Spider 1000% has a very detailed backup plan for if anyone attempts to send him to Earth when he hits adulthood.

In my mind, as soon as he was old enough to really conceptualize that fear, and doubly so after he almost had to with his foster family, he's been creating a stash of things he would need to run off and survive on his own in the Pandoran jungle. That would probably include spare exopacks, any exopack batteries he could swipe without getting caught, maybe some knives, a bio-scanner, a plethora of arrows, his own bow.

He probably doesn't hide it at Hell's Gate either. I'd imagine it's hidden in the crevice of a tree of in the side of a burrow. Something along those lines that no one would know about. I think the only person who would know is probably Kiri. I'd imagine he had a stash at Hell's Gate or wherever the foster home was, but after that incident, he decided to move it out, and probably either got caught by Kiri or asked her help to find a place.

So it's just this massive pile of exopack batteries, arrows he continues to fashion and add to his collection–survival stuff ya know, and maybe one or two personal items he really can't do without. Like that one picture of him and Paz that's an absolute non-negotiable. Maybe some childhood favorite comic book–a worn thing that one of the scientist had brought with them when first coming to Pandora and opted to give to Spider. Just little things.

I think the one thing Kiri wouldn't know about is Spider's backup-backup plan. The only thing Spider REALLY needs from Hell's Gate and the human settlement in general is exopack batteries. He can't do without them (to this knowledge if he's in fact not Eywa blessed). SO, if he ran out of exopack batteries and found himself in a position where he couldn't get anymore, I unfortunately think that Spider would try to give himself to Eywa.

Kind of like in @eirianerisdar 's fic Half Alive, I really think he would go to the Tree of Souls, take off his mask, and beg to be taken into Eywa.

Pandora is not only the one place he knows, but also a planet he has completely fallen in love with. He loves everything about Pandora from the flora and fauna to the Na'vi's customs and way of life. I don't think he would leave for anything, even if he ran the risk of dying. It would just be very in character. I think going to Earth and being shipped away from this world he is entirely enamored with would crush his soul.

And damn if that doesn't make me sad as all hell for him (as if I'm not already sad over him constantly, every day).

[ivanttakethis]

Post Round 2 [Pt. 2] - Tov’s Log

————————————————————

A moment of silence passed.

Then another.

Elias’s arms were still tense.

Finally, he sighed.

It was different sounding than Prem’s sigh. Elias sighed like he knew this confrontation was inevitable.

“Sounds like a fine name to me.” He said. His tone gave nothing else away.

The elevator stopped its descent and the doors slid open.

Tov assumed Elias would turn to the right towards the main clinic area, but instead he went to the left.

She furrowed her brow, hesitating, but continued to follow behind him.

As if he’d sensed her confusion, Elias spoke up again, “We’re going to the medical technician room. We have proper equipment to recalibrate your band there.”

Tov felt like he was speaking to more than just her.

Probably so.

She wouldn’t doubt that every inch of the dorm was covered with hidden cameras and audio recorders.

There was really no such thing as privacy in Alien Stage.

Tov took two steps for each of Elias’s long and sure strides.

He walked to a rhythm.

One. Two. One. Two. One. Two.

Her pace was a little faster.

One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three.

Something about counting steps like this felt nostalgic to her.

They came to a stop in front of a set of white doors. Elias removed one of his gloves to place his thumb on the scanner next to them.

His skin was dark like hers. A large scar stretched across the back of his hand.

The doors swung open automatically.

Inside was a sterile white room filled with medical equipment and various machines Tov could recall seeing in the hospitals she frequented; all very expensive and equally as delicate.

Elias gestured for her to enter first and manually pulled the doors shut until a heavy lock clicked in place.

There were a few medical beds lined up in a row against the left wall. Tov sat on the edge of the nearest bed.

“We’ll be able to talk freely in here,” he said, forgoing a chair to lean against the counters across from her. “All of the equipment frequencies interfere with the audio listening devices used throughout the complex.”

Tov briefly glanced around the corners of the room, “What about cameras?”

“There’s a lot of proprietary medical technology down here. Cameras are forbidden in case of a breach.”

Huh. Good to know.

Elias tugged off his helmet, revealing black, tightly coiled hair cut close to the scalp. His jawline was sharp, but his eyes were sharper; ink black and stone cold.

He crossed his arms, meeting her gaze head on. “So,” he started. “Prem?”

Tov nodded once, “Prem.”

He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Tov imagined that it was close to how she looked whenever she found out Nyx or Dian did something stupid, usually in the other’s company.

Elias muttered something under his breath before clearing his throat and addressing her, “Okay then. How much did he tell you?”

“He said you’re the one who wrote the notes and that you told him not to tell me. Then he gave me your name, the shift you work, and the code word.”

“Great, so, basically everything I told him.” Elias huffed. “Damn it, Prem.”

Probably should’ve worked alone.

Tov didn’t say that aloud.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I’ll answer as much as I can before we need to go back upstairs to avoid suspicion.”

The openness was… odd.

She wasn’t expecting Elias to be so forthcoming. She thought she’d have to pry information out of him like she had to with Prem.

But this time, she didn’t have any leverage. It was for the best that she didn’t run into any resistance.

“You’re the original author of the notes?” She asked.

Elias nodded once, “I am.”

“Did every contestant get a note?”

“No. Only you.”

Tov frowned, “Why?”

“Because the information was only relevant to you.”

On its face, the answer made sense. Tov was close to Solei, Aurien, and Nyx. Of course she’d want to know they were alive and safe.

But Lang was also close to Nyx. Why was the information about him given to her and not Lang?

There had to be another reason.

“Why did you chose me specifically?” She asked.

Elias hesitated. Tov wanted to seize the moment by the throat.

“I— did it as a favor.” He said stiltedly.

She wanted to groan long and suffering in that way Tallis always hated to hear.

You’ve got to be kidding me…

“So you’re another middleman.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No, I’m the primary source.” He countered. “I’m the one who took the risk of gathering the information and writing the notes.”

“And you risked your position just to fulfill a favor? You don’t even get anything out of it?”

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well, no. I do get something out of the agreement.”

Tov leveled him with a look that she could tell he was pointedly ignoring.

“If you’re getting something out of the agreement then it’s not a favor. It’s a transaction.” She said, voice flat.

“I don’t think I could put a price on what I’m getting.” He said.

Tov was getting really tired of everyone being so fucking cryptic all the time.

“Who asked you to write those notes and give them to me?”

“I can’t say.”

Oh fuck no—

Elias cut Tov off before she could even open her mouth to argue.

“—And no, I’m not as easy to crack as Prem. You can’t blackmail me into telling you who they are.” He spoke with such finality it made Tov want to draw blood.

“I made a promise and I plan to keep it.” He said. “A soldier’s word is his bond.”

By the way his set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, she knew he wasn’t going to yield. Normally, Tov wouldn’t either.

But there was still more she could learn from him, even if this was a dead end.

She relented with a sigh, breaking eye contact. “Fine.”

“Good.”

There was no way that ‘good’ wasn’t patronizing. But Tov let it go.

She needed answers about Lark.

“Do you know anything about the investigation into Lark’s poisoning?”

Elias’s expression turned grim.

“Unfortunately, no. But not for a lack of trying.” He sounded as disappointed as Tov felt. “As soon as the preliminary autopsy suggested poisoning, the AREPH swooped in and took over the whole case. They iced everyone out and pissed off some of the higher ranking guards.”

Tov mulled the new information over as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

Why would the AREPH get involved in a poisoning case?

There was nothing to suggest Lark’s death was connected to any of the security breaches or escapes.

It was a question that had been bothering her since she was interrogated by those AREPH agents the morning after Round 17.

Now it was gnawing.

“Have they made any official statements?”

Elias scoffed, “That’s not part of their operating procedure.” He said. “If guards lack transparency, then the AREPH is completely opaque by comparison. We know next to nothing about the extent of what they do and how they do it. Even their facility locations are classified.”

“No leaks, I assume?”

He shakes his head, “None that I know of. Medics tend to catch wind of most rumors.”

Tov knew she was coming up on yet another dead end.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about the AREPH?”

Elias thought it over for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows, “Well, there is one thing. But I don’t know if it’s relevant.”

I’ve got nothing to lose.

Tov gestured for him to continue.

“When the security breach during Round 6 happened, I got caught in the chaos with some other guards doing crowd control. We ended up crossing paths with a group of AREPH agents heading in the opposite direction, and there was a human with them.”

She blinked.

Wait.

What?

“A pet-human?” She asked.

“Maybe? I’m not sure.” Elias shook his head, “All I know is that they were wearing an AREPH uniform and badge.”

Tov couldn’t stop thinking of the possibility that the human was one of her classmates.

She tried to think all the way back to Round 6. Who was alive and who was dead?

Azure. Moran. Stasya. Min. Rose was still alive.

It couldn’t have been any of them… right?

“What did they look like?”

“Young, grey hair, black face mask, really fucking tall. You can’t miss them.”

The only person she knew close to that description was Nyx, and he was definitely not helping the AREPH.

Tov hoped he was somewhere resting peacefully, but still very much alive.

“Could the AREPH be recruiting humans now?” She asked.

“They could be, for all we know.” He muttered. “No clue why a human would work for those ghouls, though.”

Tov raised an eyebrow. “People probably say the same about you working as a guard.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” He said.

“Maybe they don’t either.”

Maybe as humans — no matter where they ended up in this system — would never have a choice.

Somewhere off to their right, a tone chimed.

Elias pushed away from the counter, sidestepping her loaded statement.

It was for the best.

“We should probably start heading back now. Any last questions?”

Tov shook her head, “None that can be answered right now.”

“Alright, do you mind if I ask you one then?”

“Sure, why not.”

“How did you get Prem to confess?”

“I faked a medical emergency to lure him into my room.” She said. “Once he was inside, I locked us both in and threatened to report him for writing the notes if he didn’t tell me who actually wrote them.”

Elias stopped halfway through putting his helmet back on.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then he doubled over laughing.

The joy ringing in his voice was so incongruous with his appearance and demeanor that it caught her completely off guard.

It reminded Tov of her own giddy, uncontrollable laughter after Nyx was rescued.

But she was still confused.

Tov tilted her head at him, “What’s so funny?”

Elias shook his head, waving her off as his laughter subsided, “Nothing. It’s nothing.” He was smiling now.

The stone cold look in his eyes had melted into something soft like putty. “You just reminded me of someone I know.”

“I see.” Tov didn’t know what else to say in the wake of such a genuine expression of emotion from a stranger.

Luckily, Elias kept talking.

“I think you would’ve made a good soldier.” He said. “You’ve got the mind for it.”

Tov thought for a moment, before asking, “If I agree, will you tell me who you’re working with?”

He chuckled again as he fastened his helmet on.

“Look, Tov. If you really want to find out who’s behind all of this, keep going.”

————————————————————

Tov got some answers (yay!), but they only led to more questions (boo!).

All will be revealed in due time. She just has to keep going…

Anyways, new relationship dynamic just dropped: Tov and Dian worsties (besties that have constant beef) 😁

Also, Eddy was the human AREPH agent that Elias saw during Round 6, so Tov sort of knows who they are now.

The next log will be post Round 24. I’m still trying to process Himei’s death and the extent it will impact Tov’s wellbeing (spoiler alert: it’s not good), so that might be a few days? We’ll see.

And then Round 26 is like… right after that. Big oof 🫠

Tallis and Eddy belong to @lookatmysillies.

Nyx and Dian belong to @rockwgooglyeyes.

Lang belongs to @pwippy.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hello, how's your day going for you?

Headcanons for AR team seeing their S/O got kidnap by the enemy

(GFL) M4A1, ST AR-15, M4 SOPMOD II, M16A1 seeing their S/O captured

I know we've had a couple of prompts like this for the Genshin characters, but I feel like with T-Dolls that's so much of a worse idea. It's like trying to capture John Connor from the Terminator, except there's four of them and they're WAY faster.

M4 hears S/O call out for her, which she turns to the direction their voice is coming from.

And sees them being taken by Sangvis T-Dolls.

Something snaps inside M4 as the thought of S/O being hurt or worse while captured rushes through her supercomputer mind.

Any self doubt or blame is burned away as she immediately puts her crosshairs on the T-Doll trying to carry them away.

Each shot blows apart their heads into pieces of scrap as M4 closes the distance at a rapid pace, the light from her eyes being replaced with murderous intent.

Some of the bullets bounced off her while many others pierced entered her body and damaged her systems, but she could not care less.

She could be repaired.

S/O was human, they could not.

Startlingly, she says absolutely nothing during the process, showing her true nature as a T-Doll as every threat is eradicated within seconds.

Once the enemy squad was eliminated, M4 takes a deep breath as she makes sure there's no injuries on them.

(M4A1) "You're not hurt, are you?"

Once she gets them to a safer location and away from any threats, she gives them an almost bone crushing hug before leaving again.

M4 was going to make sure absolutely nothing could even think about touching S/O once she was done.

(ST AR-15) "No you won't!"

STAR begins destroying the Sangvis T-Dolls without hesitation, carefully blowing apart each limb that was restraining S/O.

She knew what they did to captured T-Dolls, she would not dare imagine what they'd do to a captured human.

A quiet fury builds inside STAR with each confirmed kill, seeing S/O escaping behind her, putting her slightly at ease.

Getting right in front of the oncoming fire, her armor manages to deflect a couple shots as some pierced non-vital systems.

If she died, then so be it, but she was not going to let them have S/O.

After the last T-Doll's head was torn apart by a well placed shot, she breathes a sigh of relief as she turns around to S/O who was panting heavily.

(ST AR-15) "...Thank goodness."

She falls to one knee, not realizing how heavily she had been injured. STAR takes it as a sign she needs to become more powerful it they managed to grab them at all.

Something she'd never forgive herself for.

(SOPMOD) "OH, YOU'RE ALL DEAD!"

SOPMOD jumps right into the fray and begins ripping apart the enemy T-Dolls who had S/O with her bare hands.

She hears absolutely nothing besides her own scream, crushing every tin can that dared lay a hand on her S/O.

SOPMOD was the type to enjoy the thrill of battle, but right now she just wanted every single one dead at her hands, none of the usual joy in her voice.

For a few brief moments, SOPMOD was a whirlwind of destruction, not even firing her gun until seeing some of the remaining drones attempt an escape, yelling out obscenities at them as bullets flew out of her gun.

Once her scanners detected zero hostile signatures, she immediately grabbed S/O and rushed away.

(SOPMOD) "They didn't hurt you did they?! I swear I'm gonna mount their damn heads on my wall!"

If anything, she doesn't feel ashamed of herself, she feels nothing but rage.

(M16A1) "OVER MY GODDAMN DEAD BODY!"

M16 uses her case to smash a few of the Sangvis T-Doll's heads in, before unloading her weapon at any who had no time to react.

Leaping in front of S/O and pushing to the ground, her body took internal damage, but she shrugged it off and spun around, dropping every single one of their attackers with a hail of gunfire.

She quickly calms herself before her anger can overtake her processors. M16 grabs S/O and throws them out of the line of fire, slightly wincing at their grunt.

(M16A1) "Sorry, stay here for a sec!"

M16 turns her attention back to the oncoming enemies, many of which she destroyed with precision shots before hopping back into cover with S/O.

(M16A1) "This is M16, need help at my position, they tried to capture S/O!"

(ST AR-15's Voice) "Roger, on our way!"

After her request was acknowledged, she gave a wry smile to S/O.

(M16A1) "Don't worry. They'll never lay their hands on you again. I promise."

[sehtoast]

Part of His Plan (Homelander x OC Smut)

18+ | vaginal sex, semi-public sex, getting caught, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

This was all part of his plan.  His glorious revenge.

See, Starlight crossed a line.  A very, very obvious line that should have never been a thought in her idiot fucking head.  The little goody two shoes decided to try to recruit Benjamin to her cause.

Homelander was no fool, and he knows damn well she’s been conspiring against him.  Sure he lacked definite proof until now, but he needed to make her realize just how fucking stupid she is for even thinking Ben would ever turn on him.

What a sight it’d be for her to stumble upon them like this.

“Oh– fuck, fuck!”  Ben cries out, legs pressed to his chest, ass hanging off the meeting room table as Homelander drives his cock in and out of that sweet, warm pussy.  He’s been eaten to completion several times, and now Homelander meant to drive him to insanity.  

Benjamin has no idea that Starlight thinks there’s a team meeting in five minutes.  He’s angled so that he won’t see her enter– hear her, maybe– but he won’t know.  Homelander had the courtesy to fuck him so that he’d be facing away from the door.  She wouldn’t be lucky enough to see his fat cock driving into that sopping wet cunt, because that sight was just for him.

“Who do you belong to,”  he grits, palms pressed to either side of Ben’s face, directing his gaze.  He leans closer, practically pressing their chests together.

Homelander can hear the heels of her boots clicking down the hallway.  She’s just about here.

“Y-You!”  Ben mewls. 

Homelander gives an extra sharp snap of his hips, lips curling into a devious grin.  He picks up the pace, fucks harder to ensure the wet claps of skin would be wholly unmistakable.  He wants her to hear it just as much as she sees it.

He hears her palm press to the scanner next to the door.

“Say it!  Who do you belong to!?’  He roars, eyes raising, staring right at her as soon as the doors cracked open.

“I’m– Fuck, fuck, I’m yours!  Yours!”  Ben whines, body twitching, hands wrapping around John’s wrists.  His eyes are rolling back too much to notice Homelander’s fixed gaze, and he misses the hiss of the doors between sounds of their skin colliding.  

Fucking perfect.

“I– Johnny, ah!”

“Attaboy,” Homelander praises him.  The horror written on Starlight’s face is enough to turn his smirk into a wide toothy grin.  For good measure, he flashes his eyes– a burning crimson to remind her that he can and will fucking kill her for what she tried to do.  Giddiness rises in his chest as she turns and scurries away, wide eyed and surely mortified to her core. 

The door seals behind her.

“Now come on my fucking cock,” Homelander demands, leaning back to take Ben’s clit between his thumb and forefinger, stroking it like a little cock.  “Milk me good, bug boy.” 

Homelander himself is already on the fucking brink after what happened.  Knowing he’s put his foot down in such a way goes straight to his cock and ego, and he’s so–

Ben arches, legs trembling and body spasming, pussy clenching so hard he sees stars.  It rips Homelander’s release instantly, halting his thrusts as he buries himself deep, cock spurting and marking his little spider from the inside out.

“Mine– fuck– all fucking mine!” John grits, grinding deep into the wetness.  

He’ll make sure the whole world knows it.

[bladesandstars]

28. feeling for each other in the dark

for River and the Doctor

(thank you so much for the ask and sorry it took so long! This was a blast to write!)

He strides confidently out onto the rocky bridge to meet her, all legs and sass, and she could smack him. She will, once they're out of this and gone and safely into the TARDIS...

He winks, and he sees her enjoying this, and she rolls her eyes, but the smile pulls at her lips anyway.

It's about to be another quick clean-up, one-and-done, and then it turns into something else entirely.

The alien queen throws up a hand, and every light in the cave goes out. River thinks about her scanner, her vortex manipulator, a damned pen light, but she can't reach any of it with her wrists still shackled. She closes her eyes for a long moment, willing them to adjust, but when she opens them again it's just inky blackness still. She can't see her hand in front of her face. Or couldn't, if she had the use of her hands.

She hears the whirr of a sonic screwdriver, but that little pinprick of light is gone. And then the sound fades too.

"Electromagnetic disturbance field," she whispers, unnecessarily.

"Right," comes the quick answer, and then she hears the scrape of a boot on rock.

"What are you doing?" River hisses, like she doesn't know. "Stop it!" He's going to fall, and her stomach clenches at the thought.

The alien royal guard taunts them briefly before sweeping away to their ship.

The Doctor, damn him, has a grin in his voice. "Much wider than a tightrope. Easy peasy." His footsteps give him away, though, cautious and careful with each step.

She's off balance--literally and figuratively, always with him--but she takes a small step forward.

She hears another strangled, sonic chord, and her shackles open and fall. They fall quite a lot, actually, and she doesn't hear them hit.

And that man is still walking. In the complete darkness. Idiot.

River sighs in exasperation--with the Doctor for being difficult, with herself for not coming up with a better idea--and inches toward him. She thinks she remembers the twists and turns of the pathway. She'd better. Her foot dislodges a small rock and she hears it tumble down after the shackles.

"Walk toward my voice," she says, for once not caring how nervous she sounds.

"That's my line."

How dare he still be so nonchalant? Really. He sounds closer though, and as they inch interminably, River stretches out her hand.

"Just shut up and do it." She's panicking a little. There was a sideways jog a few meters ahead--had he seen it? She stuffs down the thought of him tumbling over the edge and reaches. And shuffles, and tries to calm her heart pounding in her ears.

River's breath catches a little when she feels the brush of fingertips against her own. He's been reaching for her in the dark, too.

They get closer, and his fingers fumble around her wrist, and then she's in his arms and he's burying his face in her hair. His hearts are thumping wildly, and his breath shudders. Both give the lie to the teasing words he'd flung at her in the dark. His fingers clench in her jacket and she lets him hold her for a long moment, and then another, before they talk about what to do next.

[holycorrupt]

if you have the time/energy to elaborate, what's your process like for coloring stuff you ink traditionally? i've figured out a few different methods over the years, but i generally stick to fully digital or traditional for a piece, so i'm curious to see how you do it! :0

This is such a fun question for me because I get to both ramble about my art process and have an excuse to throw some colors on this Breloom I drew ages ago.

I use Clip Studio Paint and an Ipad for my digital stuff so I'll be referring to the processes on that but I'm sure there is a work around for other programs as well :^)

I scan my traditional art at 400dpi because it's always easier to work bigger with digital stuff and resize it smaller then the other way around :^)

So here's our raw scan, which already looks very decent but when I want to color something I like for everything to be much cleaner/sharper/more contrast-y and to get rid of the noise from the paper texture lmao. A well lit photo will also do the job because that's what I did for many years before getting my scanner but tbh if you're a traditional -> digital artist like myself a scanner is like a best friend you can buy HAHA

First things first, I apply a Gradient Map Layer > New Correction Layer > Gradient Map

Clip has a really nice black and white map preinstalled but I made myself a custom map just by pushing the black and white a little closer, it completely clears up all the noise and makes everything really crisp! Make sure you check on your lines when adjusting things because super fine feather lines can sometimes be lost if you make the contrast too high. Extra tip! If you want to make Graphite Pencil or Ball Point Pen really nice looking as well, just add a dark grey point in the gradient map closer to the black then middle...works perfectly :^)!!

This is the point I look for stray pixels, cat hairs, ect and make sure to erase any surrounding doodles or sketches I don't want included.

GOD DAMN Those lines are CRISP-Y!!!

Next up we're going to want to go Edit > Convert brightness to opacity

Tbh If I didn't have this method idk what I would do with myself.... I've tried the whole "Lineart on top layer set to multiply" Method and ...ehh....

Now that I have a nice transparent line art I'll stick a new white layer down below it because the checker pattern hurts my eyes LOL

I'm going to add a read more here since this post is getting lengthy haha

I'm going to quickly go over the style I use for MTE! It has been refined to be quicker and easier to do since you know...I have a week time limit per page ... 😭 I have a completely different way I do colors for other things I want to spend more time on but I might explain that one in the future...I'm running out of steam tonight LOL

I use this really awesome brush pack that has a pencil like texture and I love it to bits...here's a link to it if your interested!

At this point I might add some overlay layers or play around with an airbrush but I think this guys done for now :^) I tend to stay away from highlights with my shading for MTE..My biggest goal is to make sure everything is clear and readable! That being said I break my own rules all the time for special panels that need the extra 'oomf!'

Slap a lazy square background and yay!! He's done!

Hope this was interesting aaaa Thank you again for the ask!!