#how could you be vaguely aware of AU history as being similar to your own and then say you didnt know we had indigenous peoples

[daebraeksan]

Getting triggered in a (pre)sexual situation with Nagi & he is patient and kind about it

contents 

NSFW elements, vague age, could be seen as college student or adult!Nagi, Reader with DID/PSTD (anxiety/depression/mental illness) who has gone to/is currently in therapy [as always anyone can read this, but i provide this extra info for context :) /], reader with past history of sexual trauma, exploring feelings about sexual, physical, and romantic aspects of relationship, height difference (short reader), reader is triggered during kissing and starts crying; some mental health event happens during kissing i don't know, nagi is very patient and respectful; abandonment issues, reader is certain nagi is going to break up with them (nagi will not)

tags 

Everyone is an adult in an unspecified location AU, nagi has his own apartment AU, the apartment is really the only important physical location that matters so like, i don’t really care lol, go wild, established relationship, reader has never dated before, reader little to no romantic/dating experience, implied past sexual trauma,

word count

3045

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Poor Nagi didn’t get any Valentine's chocolates when he was in school. Times when he felt sexual frustration were so few and far between, and when he did, poor Nagi was often too lazy to do anything about it. There’s nothing sad about being a late bloomer; everyone is different. Having fun in a specific way now versus later are incomparable or equal, but not better or worse than each other. 

For various, and some of those were surprisingly similar, reasons, your relationship with Nagi started slowly. Both of you were uncertain whether the other liked you. Both of you were hesitant to admit to yourselves you liked the other. For both of you, it was too much of a hassle at first. Feelings are complicated and you both didn’t want to get into anything that was going to harm or disturb you. It was Nagi who, by inadvertent accident, finally steeled your resolve, and spurred you to make your move, which started the “romantic” (?) aspect of your relationship.  

Hardly anything in your life is “easy” but for all the struggle you go through to live a “normal” life that other people take for granted, Nagi is an excellent partner to go through it all. Your head spins as you are treated with gentleness, humor, love, and respect. Your paranoid brain questions every act of kindness, moreso now that a “romantic” element throws your body in a tailspin. It’s new territory you don’t know. Your friendship with Nagi brought you so much joy, and those aspects haven’t been removed. You are always grateful to have a person who provides a safe space for you in your life. You cherish these people, few and far between, who you hold tightly to your heart, a dragon guarding less than 10 gems which feels like piles and piles of countless gold coins. 

All the work in your life hasn’t been for nothing. You are aware of how distant your insecurities feel sometimes. Their presence remains, memory cells floating in a busy abyss. You're grateful for your coping strategies that saved you. You are grateful for your new experiences and new strategies that can allow you to live the life you want to live going forward. You aren’t quite stuffing your insecurities to the bottom of your brain, the tartarus of your memory, but only because you don’t want any part of you to feel abandoned, lost, or hated. 

The thought of roadblocks and stumbling stones in the romantic (?) aspect of your relationship causes you worry sometimes, and you accept the newness and confusion with as much grace and compassion as you can.

The physical and sexual aspect of your relationship is going to drive you insane. It already is, and it will continue to do so.

Physical touch is already a stressful thing for you. Always. With anyone. You did not have positive physical touch growing up. You went through your childhood and adolescence touch starved, and have gone through your adulthood thus far incredibly touch starved, as well. You know what you want, you don’t know what you want, you know other people seem to be getting what they want (and what you want), and you don’t know how. Whatever they do won’t work for you anyway. You’ve tried and failed, with results ranging from unfortunate to disastrous. You can’t handle any more worst case scenarios. (You can, and will if they ever emerge. But you will not put yourself in those situations on purpose, and you will always leave a dangerous situation because you are capable of protecting yourself.) 

“Nagi is permissive.” This is one way to describe an aspect of his personality. That word stresses you out. You are so scared of hurting people (the way you were hurt.) You have long isolated yourself because you didn’t think you could get your needs met and keep people safe at the same time. (You were very hard on yourself and when you let people be responsible for their actions instead of taking the blame, you can learn that you were trustworthy all alone, and people, your loved ones, already trust you!)

“Nagi is too lazy to care either way.”  This is another way to describe Nagi in many situations. This also causes you pause, worry, and sends you in a tail spin sometimes. While your communication in other aspects of your life has improved drastically through your dedication and hard work, communication about physical touch causes its own problems because of the subject matter. Mainly, you can’t ask for what you want. You’re too protective of yourself (well, you’re alive, so it worked) and you don’t want to throw yourself in situations where you could be rejected and disappointed if it’s going to cause you so many problems.

Yet, you want emotional and physical intimacy, so you have to accept the fact that you want opposing things at times, sometimes at the same time. And it’s very frustrating and confusing. And, you’re not going to lie, in your worst moments, your insecurities about being too much, and too much trouble, emerge regarding this aspect of your relationship with Nagi. You only have one option, which is to work through it. You’re not giving up, and you’re not giving up on your relationship with Nagi. You're not giving him up for anything. (Unless he wants, but he doesn’t, so you don’t have to go through that qualifier. But you’re you, so you still splatter your disclaimers on anything and everything, because you don’t want to hurt people like how you've been hurt.) 

All of this is to say, with help from your loved ones, you were able to figure out that Nagi is okay with you cuddling with him, and he was okay with that before you started your romantic endeavors with him, too. You can’t hold his hand when he’s gaming, but sometimes he’ll still let you lean up against him. 

All your romantic firsts with Nagi are special to you, and all your first time experiences in general with him (or to be fair, anyone) are special. First time going to the amusement park together, watching a movie, cooking together (he is mostly moral support, but you still count it <3), first “date.” You cherish your first kiss. Your first and every subsequent makeout session excites you. You have days where it’s all you think about. Your sex drive is far higher than Nagi’s, but he’ll play with your pussy almost whenever you ask. Sometimes his full attention is on you, gaze hot and excited, enraptured with your pants and sounds, and sometimes he’ll play with you while he’s watching his shows or streams, something casual enough to where he’ll throw in an occasional deadpan observation of you that flushes you with the kind of humiliation and desperation that is so exciting to feel (the kind you only feel safe enough to feel with Nagi.) You can’t pick a favorite. His attention and praise fills you with white hot pleasure and your brain feels overflown in the present moment with him. The feeling of being carried away safely, because it’s Nagi, allowing you to be solidly grounded in the moment, because you don’t want to be anywhere else except overwhelmed by Nagi. 

Excited at the thought of experiencing these feelings again, you close the door to his bedroom and stand on your tiptoes and you still can’t reach his face. You cling to his shirt, pulling to coax him down to where you can reach. He towers over you, a hand over your head. You stare into his beautiful eyes and let out a tentative whine. 

“No patience at all.” Nagi’s lower, rough voice sends a jolt through you, and then he’s kissing you. Finally. 

There’s no pressure for Nagi to be creative when he touches you. For as bad as you think you are at communicating, you give him just enough to fill in the blanks that your body language leaves. Your body and voice are so expressive, and he doesn’t know how he knows what you want, but he does. You also seem pretty happy with anything he does. It makes him feel so powerful to make you so happy without even trying (that hard). Especially as time goes on and you get to know each other’s likes and tastes more and more, he likes the way you make him feel like in these moments, he is your whole world. He is all you need. Your enraptured expression, completely taken by him, the way your attention can’t be dragged to anything else makes him feel seen, and he likes the feeling. He wants you to see him.

He knows how to make you happy. When he doesn’t feel like putting in effort, but still wants to spend time with you, he knows how to make you feel good. He knows how to get results. 

But the way you motivate him surprises him every time. He knows you like it sometimes, when he pretends he’s more focused on his streams than you. You like it, so he lets you believe he is more focused on his streams than he really is. But making you feel good is like no game he’s ever played. It’s a fun game, an exciting game, riveting, all-consuming, to try and read you, try and figure out what it is you want him to do, what your body language and whines are leading him to do. You’re so easy to read, it feels like you were made for him. When you whine louder and louder, he wants you to feel like he was made for you, too.

He has to let you catch your breath eventually. He uses this time to feel proud of himself, smug at his handiwork, as he looks down at your dazed expression. You look like you miss him already. Your shy, worried expression you get as you feel better and better with the sinful way you move against his body, begging for more.

He feels protective of you and never wants to let you go. He never wants you to feel hurt again and he wants to be the one to make sure of that. He wants to be there to support you through everything and he wants you by his side always, too. 

He crowds you to the bed and you scramble up, and he crawls after you, and looms over you, the only image you want to see. 

He descends, body heavy on yours, kisses you more. You never would have thought you could like the taste of someone’s mouth like you do Nagi’s. You can’t get enough of the way his tongue feels, the strength of his hands when he grips you. You’re so loud, which Nagi loves, and is fun for you, too, but the moments when you’re about to hear his noises, grunts and gasps and exhales, makes your tummy swoop, and you cling to him tighter. You tangle your fingers in his beautiful hair. It calms you to touch it. You like holding his head like that while he kisses your neck. You hate that he has to stop kissing your lips in order to kiss your neck because you love both so much.

Nagi is patient and attentive. He can’t get bored when he sees and hears how much you are enjoying it. 

The silence has dragged on a bit too long, much longer than you need to catch your breath, and he knows you’re impatient. You act like you don’t care about breathing anymore when you kiss him, which makes him feel like king of the world, of course, but also, he wants you to breathe. 

He pulls away to assess the situation. Your fingers are still in his hair, which he loves, but your body is heavy, a lot less pliable than normal, and your gaze is frozen somewhere else, expression not dazed and needy like he likes seeing you. You look like something else. Lost in thought or somewhere else in general. 

“Baby.”

You twitch your fingers in his hair, but don’t look at him or say anything. 

“Angel?”

You remove your hand from his hair and squirm under him. He rolls off you onto his side and watches you.

“Are you okay?”

You curl away from him slightly, so he adjusts his body too, giving you some more space. 

He’s really worried, but he doesn’t want to worry you more, if something really is wrong. He knows and trusts you will tell him eventually, even if you can’t right now. 

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” you say quickly.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You look conflicted. 

“I don’t have to. I just want you to know I love you. What do you need right now?”

You’re frozen. You don’t even feel like you can bury your head in the pillow like you want to. Well, actually, what you really want to do is bury your head in Nagi’s chest, but you definitely don’t think or feel like you can do that.

“Do you want me to go? Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” you choke out. “I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Nagi says. “If there’s something you want me to do, when you can, can you tell me?”

Horrified, you feel tears welling in your eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay,” Nagi says. “I want to help you, and can if you want me to, but I don’t have to do anything, either, if you don’t want.”

As focused as you were when you were kissing him and into it, you are now equally and opposingly scattered. Of the millions thoughts and anxieties and worries freefalling in your head, what a lot of them boil down to are: a) you are horrible; and b) he’s not going to like you anymore.

“I’m here for you,” he says. “It’s okay if you want to cry, if you feel like it.”

The sobs escape your mouth without you feeling like you let them. 

He hands you tissues and stays with you quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, which doesn’t feel good to say. It feels like you are betraying yourself. But there was no way you were going to win the fight to overcome the urge to say it. Not right now. 

“I don’t want you to say that,” Nagi says. “About crying to me ever again.”

“Sorry,” you say, because at this point you’ve given up, and have fully accepted that Nagi will probably most definitely never want to see you ever again.

“You can say sorry, and I’ll tell you it’s okay, but I just want you to know. I want it on record that I don’t want an apology for you sharing your emotions with me. Thank you for trusting me with them. I am honored.”

You cry some more, hiccupping and loud. 

Once you have a tiny pile of tissues, which you push off the bed into the bin Nagi got up and retrieved for you, you feel satisfyingly empty, like how one does, after having a good cry.

“I love you,” Nagi says promptly.

“I love you, too,” you rasp out. 

He gazes at you calmly.

You and him are opposites in some ways. One important way is he is never in a rush and you are always in a rush. So even though you know he would never rush you into anything, whether it’s talking or sex or leaving the house for some event or activity, your own traitorous brain yells at you, guilts you, warns you that he’s going ot leave no matter what anyway, so what are you even doing?

“Can I stay?” you ask in a small voice. 

He blinks at you. “...what?”

“Can I still stay here? Even though we’re not.” You gulp around nothing. Your throat convulses. “Or I can go,” you say quickly because you don’t want to cause trouble or be shameless or assume or any of the horrible things that you could do wrong.

“You should always do whatever you want,” he says. “But if you’re asking me, I’d like if you stayed.”

“Okay,” you whisper, searching your chest for the relief you think you should be feeling. A win! Right? You don’t have to do something you’re scared of, and you get what you really wanted in the first place. All you ever want is Nagi. 

“Can I still.” You wish words weren’t so hard. For all that everyone makes fun of you for constantly talking, why can’t you when it really matters? You search for the extroverted part of you, and you feel tumbleweeds where a peppy, bubbly personality should be. 

Great. Abandoned. As per usual. 

Nagi doesn’t rush you. He never rushes you. Logically, you know this, from past experience, and he continues in this moment. He’s so still. The opposite of your racing thoughts. The opposite of the fight or flight response pumping your body up to prepare for maximum danger and threat levels. He’s so still as he watches you, with his ever lidded eyes, eyes you usually feel so secure staring into, and would for hours on end, if you could. 

You know these eyes are open to you. They demand nothing. You try to remember that he would never implore you for anything, and the only person rushing you is you.

“I want to stay,” you say. 

“I want you to stay,” he says.

“I want.” Why is it so horrifying to ask for things? To ask for anything. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please,” Nagi says.

This time, relief crashes through your system, louder this time, bursting through a window, the sound of glass shattering cascading through your veins. 

He opens himself up to you, like he always does, and you slot yourself against his body, like you’ve been wanting this whole time. You try to calm yourself down. You try to stop trying. You try to let Nagi take care of you, like he is so good at doing. 

He kisses the top of your head, and he waits with you until you feel better. And you do, eventually. You always do.

[mira--mira]

Oot Ask Does the Summons hatred and adoration of Hashirama and Madara respectively have anything to do with the Bijuu?

Since in your post about the summons, you mentioned how many summons hate bijuu for taking on their form and since you mentioned summons politics, this could end up with the summons just generally disliking the bijuu on principle.

This could factor into why they dislike Hashirama since he enabled the creation of jinchuriki and forced many summons into close-ish quarter with a jinchuriki/bijuu. Madara on the other hand might be praised for subjugating a bijuu and for opposing Hashirama.

Although it could have something to do with the Mokuton, since Katsuyu seemed to hate Hashirama before he founded Konoha.

Cuz I've got some theories about the Mokuton. You mentioned in your post that summons eat chakra, well Mokuton kinda does the same, since it's known as a chakra suppressor. So maybe there's some history there which leads to their distaste for the Mokuton and by extension Madara. (Not sure why they don't actively hate Tenzo then)

For Madara, well I doubt he spent all of his 70+ years in the cave brooding until Obito showed up. It'd be interesting if he spent time in the summon realm and met some of the Firsts. Especially since his Eye of the Moon plan involved permanently sealing away the Bijuu and the summons don't like the bijuu. . . Although this does open up the interesting possibility of a war between the summons and bijuu/shinobi.

I'm getting a tad ahead of myself aern't I Love your work!!❤️✨❤️✨❤️✨

Anon you're going to make me cry, I love this ask! 😭🥰 I love worldbuilding and trying to drop little clues about lore as we go along so readers can start to get the picture before any big reveal but I'm never quite sure if my clues make sense, if they're too vague or too obvious but reading your theories and how you're putting it together makes me incredibly happy! Your thoughts are right on track and it makes me so happy to know you're thinking about it and formulating theories! I'll give a few more details below the cut!

Yes you are exactly right! The bijuu have a big role to play and the reason why/how they took on the summons form is late-game lore but fundamentally they and the summons have never gotten along. The summons have their issues with Hashirama in part because of the jinchuriki that's right but their biggest gripe comes from new lore (that is directly connected to the mokuton, the summons would similarly dislike Tenzo if they were aware of him, thought not as much as they do Hashirama. Another thing Hashirama had going against him was his own larger-than-life reputation. Kakashi's dogs don't have the same reaction to Hashirama or Tenzo because Inu's line split up with the main line becoming the Inuzuka's sole companions. This left the various other descendants in an awkward limbo where they could make contracts but most did it in "packs" like Kakashi's that were separate from other dogs but also locked them out of the wider summons' politics. They're not considered a cohesive group anymore.

As for Madara, you are right again that the collective summons love him because of his actions against Kurama. When Ningame first sees them after he says his piece to Hashirama, he immediately turns to Madara and says something similar to this (it's still in the rough draft stage lol):

“Gai, why do you accompany one of his kind? I tolerated the Shodai out of necessity but I will not tolerate another…” Ningame’s eyes finally slide to Madara. He braces himself for a similar reaction. Mikuzume might like him but she’s a child. If the birds decided he was at fault for the Uchiha Massacre and their contracts unjustly betrayed they might have cursed his name to such an extent that even Ningame would know. “…Uchiha Madara, as I live and breathe. In the flesh, yet a child.” Slowly Ningame walks forward, eyes wide and starry as he stares at Madara. “I do not know how it is possible but I know in my heart of hearts it is truly you. The man who forced the Kyuubi to its knees. It is an honor to speak with one such as yourself.” Ningame lowers his head and kneels as best a tortoise can.

The real funny thing is Madara and Hashirama for Gai, and Ningame low-key has one for Madara. You are also right that Madara didn't spend all his time in the cave (I'm still thinking of exactly how I want those events to play out lol) but in the time between Madara leaving the village and him returning to fight Hashirama...oh he definitely met with a few summons and the fact that the EotM plan involved sealing them away...well, permanent sealing with no way to spring free is the best solution to unkillable chakra beasts. Mikuzume is too young to know, and this'll be my last spoiler, but because of his original actions with Kurama, Kitsune (who is indeed still alive) is indebted to Madara.

I'm still fiddling with ideas on how to tie things together in this AU's version of the fourth war but I really like the idea of there being a summons/bijuu war and I really like the idea that it could come up but the war itself actually predated the Warring States Period! History doesn't start with the founders and I love the idea of building up more world history in broad strokes so the weight of history and past grudges can be felt as we go through them again.

Thank you so much for your comment, anon! I love reading everyone's thoughts and getting to respond! 💖🥰🥰

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 15 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 15

It took almost twenty minutes for Danny’s mom to finish her tirade against the police. Watching her flip out on the officers was almost therapeutic, and by the time she was done, he was more amused then terrified. It made the actual interview much easier.

The police were initially skeptical, especially since his dad took the lead on explaining what happened. His childish excitement at getting to chase something made it sound like some made up fantasy, but that changed when Vlad gave his account. With his reputation, they were forced to take it seriously.

The older of the two officers, O’Brian, took the statements as his partner, Kiziah, reviewed the scene for any clues or evidence of how the creature got in the house. Other police offers were on the way to do a proper investigation.

“You’re the one that reported that murder… That was just, I guess it’s two days ago now,” O’Brian mentioned as he glanced at Danny, who nodded. “We chalked up the weirdness of your original statement due to shock, but if you’re telling me this thing is the same perp, I have no idea what we have on our hands.”

“I… I don’t really know if it was the same thing or not, but it looked like it.”

The officer frowned as his partner returned. “No obvious sign of a break in,” Kiziah stated, “but I don’t want to touch anything without an evidence kit. There’s definitely a weird substance in the living room and near the front door that will need analyzed.”

“You didn’t hear anything?” O’Brian looked back towards Danny and his parents.

“To be honest, our family tends to be heavy sleepers,” his mother explained as she gave him a sheepish grin. “Jack can sleep through almost anything, and I tend to wear earplugs.”

“And I am of the opposite,” Vlad stated as he made himself a cup of tea. “However, it wasn’t until I heard Daniel sprint up the stairs and bang on his parents’ door that I awoke.”

“Sorry about that.” Danny winced at he glanced at the man. Vlad didn’t seem as creepy as he had the previous day, but something still seemed off about him.

The man gave him a dismissive wave. “No worries, my dear boy. I believe your actions were more than understandable given the circumstances.”

“Err… I guess you want me to say if I heard anything?” Danny shook his head as the officers stared at him. “I didn’t. It… it was just a feeling, you know? Like when you get a sudden chill.” That statement was true enough. He figured it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to state the more paranormal aspect of it. “I thought I was just being paranoid until I looked down the stairs and that… that thing stared back at me.”

An awkward silence fell as O’Brian took some more notes. It was only broken when Kiziah received some sort of notification and moved to let the investigation team in. They quickly went to work examining the scene and looking for anything out of the ordinary. While they worked, an older man with a scar down the right side of his face took O’Brian and Kiziah aside and spoke with them. Once they finished, the older officer approached Danny and his family.

“I’m Lieutenant Metzger, and I’ve recently been put in charge of the investigation of the recent murders in the city. You’ve probably heard the rumors this is a serial case. Well, that’s true.” A muscle moved in the man’s cheek as he seemed to debate with himself over how much he could tell them. “Due to some of the details, we were under the impression these were ritualistic in nature and called in the FBI for some help.” He sighed before asking, “Is it okay if I sit?”

“Sure,” Danny’s mother shared a confused look with her husband before she asked the officer if he needed some coffee.

When he agreed, he waited until there was a cup in front of him to continue. “Look, I don’t want this being leaked. We don’t need people thinking the police force is wasting money on chasing fairy tales.” Once the Fenton family agreed, he continued, “You aren’t the first one to report something not quite human around the time of the incidences. Due to shock and figuring it was some sort of disguise, we originally disregarded that. However,” he glanced around before he leaned in, “one of my own officers gave a report earlier this week of glancing something inhuman. It actually attacked his patrol car before it vanished. On top of that, I don’t think whatever that thing spilled on your carpet has any sort of mundane explanation behind it.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I’m going to be frank with you. I would like to contract you for some sort of weapon for this thing. From previous experiences, I’m fully aware your… experiments don’t tend to do harm to people, so if… by the off chance, this isn’t something normal, we’ll have a way to stop it.”

Danny’s father immediately lit up in excitement. After rambling some idea, he ran down to the lab to act upon it before anyone could stop him.

“Don’t mind him,” his mother fondly chuckled. “Jack is very enthusiastic about our work.”

“I… uh… take that you’re willing to help us?”

“Oh, absolutely. If this thing is what we think it might possibly be, we were going to do that anyways. But I do need to ask you something. You mentioned you thought the attacks were ritual in nature. I’m not really sure how to ask this, but for those poor people, was there a part of the body missing?”

Metzger’s shoulders tensed at her question as his eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”

“Wait… wait, you’re telling me… that thing… what it was holding in its hand…” Danny couldn’t say it. The memory of the blood dripping from that thing’s hand temporarily overwhelmed him. He must have swayed as his mother gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. If you decide to go help your father, I think he’d gladly welcome the help.”

Danny shook his head at the suggestion. He needed to stay put. It just felt safer with her and the officers around. She must have somehow understood as she gave his shoulder a motherly squeeze.

“You didn’t answer my question.” An irritated edge crept into Metzger’s voice.

His mother calmly turned back to him and returned his gaze. “I didn’t until just now. After Danny relayed his story, it struck a chord with me, and I did some digging. There is folklore in different parts of the US which tells of creatures who steal the life of humans and often a part of the body. If… if that’s what’s happening, then we’re in trouble.”

“What do you think this thing is doing?”

“Nothing good. Throughout history, humankind has offered up blood and other bodily sacrifices to gods, spirits, monsters, and everything in between. While usually the Aztecs come to mind, you can find evidence of this around the world. It’s believed those sacrifices would either strengthen or appease whichever entity was the focus.”

“Maddie, are you suggesting this thing is doing something similar?”

She nodded. “I… We aren’t sure if this thing is trying to strengthen itself or if it’s taking its gains to something else.”

A different memory surfaced in Danny’s mind. “That… when we were being rescued… the… the person that helped us get back… he said the A-listers got targeted for their blood,” he stammered before he could stop himself.

Everyone in the room stared at him. He and his friends really hadn’t talked about Frostbite. They mentioned to the police they thought someone helped them, but purposely left it vague. With how disoriented they were when they were found, the police were under the impression the trauma obscured some of their memories. Well, the cat was out of the bag.

Matzger stared at him. “Are you telling me what happened to your classmates may be related to… to this thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Like I told my mom before you came, the person who grabbed me and my friends isn’t the same… whatever that thing is. But, I don’t know what Dash and them encountered after we got separated.”

“Hmm… what about the person who helped you?”

Danny shook his head. “Not the same person. He called himself Frostbite, and…” How could he even explain Frostbite? He was a ghostly yeti with an ice arm for God’s sake! “I didn’t think he was real,” he eventually stated as he glanced down at his hands. “He was so friendly and helpful. He was so much different than that thing.”

“Honey, you never really talked about this Frostbite person before.” His mother tried to reach out for his hand, but he pulled away.

“I… I thought he was a dream or hallucination or something for a while.” He hoped he sounded sincere. It was somewhat true after all. The fantastical nature of what happen still didn’t seem real to him, but he knew better. “I think he had helpers… there were other voices besides his.”

“That would line up with some of the evidence we have from your case,” Matzger stated as he rubbed his chin. “The injuries of you and your two friends were vastly different than the others who went missing which suggested multiple perpetrators. One of the other boys did mention that he thought they were rescued by a small group of people. I will have to take a closer look at the injuries of your classmates to determine whether or not they match up with our current victims. That should give us an idea if it’s the same thing or something different.”

“Sir,” officer Kiziah interrupted, “we’ve finished our initial sweep. We did have some trouble trying to keep Mr. Fenton out of the way in the basement area, but he’s promised to stay at the one table while we work. He’s apparently drafting some blueprints. Forensics is here and are working on collecting evidence. They’re hoping to talk to you.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Kiziah. Can you explain to them their options during our investigation progress?” After flashing them an apologetic smile which seemed out of place with his features, he told them he would be in touch and excused himself.

After shaking his head at his superior, Kiziah stated while the family could stay in the house during the investigation process, it had the possibility of accidentally contaminating evidence. He recommended for them to stay at a local hotel for a time.

Although his mother seemed hesitant to leave the house, she eventually agreed to head to a hotel after Vlad made a show of being concerned for the family’s safety. It took a bit of time to get his dad to leave the basement, but by the time seven am hit, Danny found himself in the best hotel in Amity Park, per Vlad’s firm recommendations.

After sending his friends a few texts to let them know what happened, that he was fine, and where he was, he told them he’d call them after he got some sleep. Although he wasn’t exactly happy he shared the room with Vlad, the pristine bed ended up being far more important to him than any worries.

…..

Several hours later, Danny woke up to one hundred and three texts, fifty-four missed calls, and eleven voicemails. Sam and Tucker had only one voicemail and call apiece and only a handful of texts. The rest were from his sister. Groaning, he sent Sam and Tucker messages to let them know he’d call them after he contacted his sister.

He really didn’t want to talk to Jazz at the moment. When she was scared, she became spastic, and a spastic Jazz was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. Okay, the third to last think he wanted to deal with. The creepy thing and Plasmius took the top two places.

After taking several minutes to do everything other than call his sister, he finally buckled down and called her. As predicted, she spastically demanded to know if he was okay while berating him for not contacting her sooner. He just let her talk while making the occasional ‘uh huh’, ‘sorry,’ and ‘yeah.’ From experience, he knew it was better to let her get it out of her system.

He put Jazz on speaker while he attempted to find the hotel’s TV remote. Vlad didn’t seem to be in the room which really didn’t bother him. The man didn’t need to listen to Jazz flipping out after all. Eventually, he found the remote next to a message from Vlad stating he and his parents went to discuss something with the police and would be back with food.

“Danny, are you even listening to me?” Jazz demanded. He must have been quiet for too long.

“Uh? Yeah, I just happened to find a note Vlad left. You were saying something about how it was irresponsible for Dad to go running after the thing?”

“Wait, are you telling me you were left alone after everything that happened?”

“Jazz, I’m seventeen. I think I’m perfectly fine being alone for a few hours.”

“You were kidnapped by a crazy man and then were attacked in your own home! Do you really think it’s safe for you to be alone right now?” With that, she flew into a different tirade.

Knowing it would be a while, he decided the TV would be a preferable alternative to his upset sister. He turned it on only to have it immediately turn off. Thinking he accidentally doubled clicked the button, he tried again only to have the same result. Thinking the remote was damaged, he moved to try the button on the machine. Only, it turned on by itself. It and the lights began to dim and flicker, and his breath began to mist.

Glancing around, he watched as a girl emerged from the wall. At first, it seemed she didn’t notice him as she moved towards the opposite wall, but she stopped midway and faced him. She looked human but her entire body seemed insubstantial and almost wispy. Her skin, if it could be called that, was an unearthly white while her blue hair flickered like a flame.

She smirked at him while moving a little closer. “You shouldn’t be here, Baby Pop.” Her sultry and musical voice seemed far away, almost as if it was being broadcasted over an old radio. “Don’t know what you’re doing on this side of the veil, but you shouldn’t stay here.”

“What… what are you talking about? Who are you?” he stammered while vaguely registering Jazz asking him what was wrong.

“I like to slip to this side for some fun, but I might stick around a little longer this time. It’s already chaotic here, and a little more might do me some good. Besides, it seems I need to make a few people remember I still exist.” After appraising him, she gave another smile and headed back towards the wall. “You might want to get out while you can, Baby Pop. Things might get a little hot, and you new guys often aren’t strong enough to deal with the heat.”

“Hey, wait!” He tried to get her to stop, but she just vanished back into the wall. Unsure what to do, he stood in the center of the room dumbfounded until he realized his phone was still on speaker and his sister was calling for him.

“Hey, Jazz, I’m going to have to call you back,” he stated as he moved towards the door. “Something really weird just happened.” He hung up on her as he ran into the hallway looking for some evidence of the ghost.

He barely made it to the elevators when the fire alarm sounded. Not wanting to stick around, he quickly found the stairs and made his way to the lobby as the rest of the guests started to follow suit. By the time he reached the third floor, he began to smell smoke. There had to be a fire. Is that what that ghost meant? Did she somehow set it?

He really hoped that wasn’t the case. He really only needed on potentially supernatural thing causing problems in his life at a time.

[luthienebonyx]

Can I have B, K and Q for the fanfic ask meme, please?

Fanfic ask meme

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

My stories come from the characters first, but there is also stuff in them that comes from personal experience. The Aussie coffee verse is set in some very specific places that I have visited more than once in the past. The Personal Touch takes a little from my own experiences with various kinds of physical therapy (though I never had that sort of relationship with any of my therapists!). In the past I’ve written stories that included stuff like bodysurfing, which I know about from growing up by the beach. There are other little bits and pieces of personal experience littered through my fic, but they’re generally not anything particularly important.

I guess History Never Repeats has potentially the biggest part of my real life in it, because I’ve given Brienne the profession that used to be mine, a long time ago. That was inspired partly because lately I’ve been encountering fiction in various media that keeps portraying that profession as the most boring job in the world/a cover for something ‘more interesting’/something done by unhinged megalomaniacs before they go completely off the rails. And yes, while I have met the odd unhinged megalomaniac in that profession, I wanted to present it in a more true way - so we’ll see what happens as the story progresses!

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

In my reply to one of the other asks, I mentioned that I’d written a major character death in a HP fic, long, long ago. That was The Rain Keeps Falling. I doubt anything I’ve written since tops that in the angst stakes, though one or two things have come close. When it was originally posted on LJ, it got several pages of comments that were pretty much all variations on: Your story made me cry. Still proud...

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

Oh, loads of them. Most are handwritten in notebooks, but just a quick look through my googledocs shows ones I may yet get to, like the rockstar/musician AU, and ones I’d forgotten all about, like “angry sex draft” - whatever the hell that was supposed to be. Here is a bit from a half-written Rivers of London story called Stripping Off, which will never be finished because the canon has now moved on from the moment in which the story is set:

Nightingale always dresses well, in a strictly first-half-of-the-twentieth-century kind of way. It was one of the first things I noticed about him, that night we met in Covent Garden, and not just because, as a police officer, I’m trained to notice distinguishing details just in case they might be needed later. I thought he was going to try to pick me up, if I’m being honest. And it turned out I was right that he had an interest in me, but not in the way I thought.

He was wearing one of his beautifully tailored suits the first time I saw him, a bespoke number courtesy of Dege & Skinner, Savile Row, established 1865 - like all of his suits and most of his shirts, as I later found out. The perfect fit of his suits draws subtle attention to the width of his shoulders before nipping in closely at the waist. His shoes are handmade, because of course they are, by Crockett & Jones in Jermyn Street, which is handily situated just a few streets away from Savile Row and has been in business nearly as long as Dege & Skinner. And he carries a silver-topped cane, which fits the whole pre-war man about town aesthetic, but its origins and uses are… well, let’s just say that those are a bit more esoteric.

Nightingale’s entire look, not forgetting his Burberry coat, was more than familiar to me by the time I’d spent a year or two at the Folly, so I’m really not sure why his new driving gloves came as any sort of surprise – but they did.

Gloves of all sorts are a necessary evil in our line of work, but of course Nightingale’s driving gloves were nothing like anything that comes as police standard issue. They were made of thin, high quality brown leather, very supple, with ventilation holes along the knuckles, and lined with some sort of soft wool fabric – probably cashmere. But the day came when the quality of the materials and workmanship couldn’t disguise how well-worn Nightingale's gloves were. Not even Molly’s careful ministrations could make them look even remotely at their best, so eventually Nightingale bit the bullet and ordered – probably from some fifth generation family business with an ampersand in its name – a new pair of driving gloves.

I didn't even know that Nightingale had finally got… I'm sorry, procured, the new gloves until the first time we took the Ferrari for a spin, the one that used to belong to the practitioner formerly known as the Faceless Man and recently revealed to be one Martin Chorley. I'd been itching to take the Ferrari for a test drive since the moment it was impounded in the garage at the Folly, awaiting 'evaluation'. Nightingale still hardly ever lets me drive his Jag by myself, though - one of these days I'll actually get to the top of the priority list for that advanced driving test, but I'm not holding my breath - so I didn't bother asking if there'd be any chance that I could take the Ferrari out without him. Fortunately, he was almost as keen as I was to find out what the Ferrari could do.

I was vaguely aware that Nightingale was wearing his new gloves when he turned the key in the ignition, but at the time most of my attention was on the way the engine effortlessly purred into life. Russell Square isn't exactly the best place to drive, well, anything, let alone a Ferrari, so I waited as patiently as I could while Nightingale negotiated the London traffic and pointed us in the general direction of Oxford.

We were on our way to visit Professor Postmartin, a typical, even stereotypical Oxford don in every way, except that he moonlights as the official archivist for the Folly. He'd phoned the day before to let us know that he'd discovered some uncatalogued volumes in a hat box in a forgotten cupboard at the top of a cobwebbed spiral staircase - or somewhere like that - and he wanted us - well, Nightingale - to take a look at them.

"There's no great rush, Thomas. You can look them over the next time something brings you up to Oxford," Postmartin said.

Nightingale and I exchanged a look at that - he had speakerphone turned on, wonder of wonders, though it's possible he'd just hit the button by mistake - and decided without a word being said that the Ferrari was the thing that would bring us to Oxford.

The thing about being a passenger in a Ferrari? It's totally different to driving one. Those cars were designed for speed before anything else, which means a stiff suspension, thin tyres, and cutting back on extraneous extras like much in the way of padding beneath the beautifully finished black nero leather upholstery. All of which is fine if you're sat behind the wheel and feeling the thing rumble into life beneath your hands, and then having it do your bidding with every tiny change of course. But when you're in the passenger seat you feel it rumble to life beneath your arse, and you feel every. single. dip and pothole.

Apparently, my idea of patience is somewhat different from Nightingale's, because we hadn't even made it as far as the M40 when he glanced at me and suggested that perhaps I could find some way of keeping myself occupied on my phone until we got out of London.

I realised I'd been drumming my fingers on the leather-lined passenger door, and hastily returned my hand to my lap, trying to look the picture of innocence. It turns out that I'm no better at that than I am at pretending to be patient, because Nightingale snorted - actually snorted! - softly before he returned his attention to the road.

I really was intending to do what Nightingale had 'suggested', and I shifted in the seat so that I could reach into my pocket for my phone, but just as I did, Nightingale's arm moved and caught my eye - and I forgot to breathe.

I honestly didn't know why. I'd seen Nightingale drive before, many times. It should have been such an ordinary movement that I didn't even consciously register it, but his hand flexed as it closed around the gear stick and I swallowed. Hard. I probably should have looked away then. Okay, I definitely should have looked away then, but instead I took my first proper look at Nightingale's new driving gloves.

The new gloves were similar to the old ones, except in every way that they weren't. They were soft, high quality leather, and covered his hands as if… well, they had been made for him,  but where the old ones were a worn brown, these were midnight black. At least, they were on the part that covered the back of his hand. Underneath, on the palm, they were smooth red leather. Not the fire brick red of the Ferrari's paint job; Nightingale wouldn't be caught dead wearing such a flashy colour. No, the leather of the gloves was a few shades darker than the red of the Ferrari, but there was no denying that the new gloves fitted this car - just as the old gloves had been a perfect fit with the brown leather upholstery and wooden trim in the Jaguar, I realised.

And damn, did they fit Nightingale.

I choked on the thought in utter horror before I even got to the end of it, and quickly turned it into a coughing fit. I hadn't really… had I? About my governor? About Nightingale?

"Everything all right, Peter?" Nightingale asked in mild concern.

I nodded, my eyes watering as I croaked out a not very convincing, "Fine." I reached down into the bag of supplies at my feet to see what Molly had packed for us. Anything not to have to look Nightingale in the face right then. Suddenly, being in the Ferrari was absolutely the last place I wanted to be.

[chicago-reeed]

PHCK ME - Reed900 Fic Rec List

Hello!!! You might not remember, but awhile back I mentioned I had the start of a fic rec list that I planned to post (which I never did). To celebrate all 1K+ of you, I thought I would finish the list for you! It is my duty as a loyal reed900 servant.

DISCLAIMER: This list of reccomendations was made purely out of personal opinion. I by no means want to discredit any other fics/authors. Some may not agree with my choices, and that’s totally understandable. I just wanted to share these fics because I personally enjoyed them <3

I didn’t include some fics because they haven’t been updated in a long time, or I didn’t remember them enough to give them accurate reviews. Also, I’m sure there are many more fics that I forgot to put on here (these are from my ao3 bookmarks). I might include them in a future update.

Anyways, all of my recs are under the cut! There are a lot!! I had eight pages worth of them in my documents haha

Mint Condition - by itsdefinitive - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 18/? - Reed could see what they were going for there -- the whole infallible super-soldier thing.  A monument to testosterone made perfect, cast in steel within plastic.  It was actually really creepy.  Maybe that was on purpose.

The first reed900 fic I read, and it’s honestly what got me into the pairing itself.

Charon - by Vapewraith - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 20/20 - Gavin Reed, a mess of a human being, just wants to be left to his self destructive tendencies. RK900, an android designed by the most brilliant minds in the world to be the perfect machine, is desperate to grasp the full range of emotional freedom now afforded to him. The two will need to find an equilibrium before their incompatible personalities—and an eccentric serial killer with a dangerous piece of tech—swallow them whole.

I can’t even describe how much I love this fic. I’m a slut for horror, and there’s plenty of that in here. It might just be my favorite. Definitely recommend.

Two Sides of a Vaguely Similar Coin - by ZombiBird - Mature - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 13/? - RK900 is lost.

It’s been months since the Revolution and he’s still no closer to figuring out what the hell he’s supposed to be doing with himself. He feels like an outsider in his own body. Completely detached, nothing more than a quiet observer; like he’s looking down at the world through a layer of glass instead of fully living in it.

Gavin Reed is a temperamental asshole.

This isn’t news, okay? Gavin’s fully aware of what he is. He burns bridges instead of building them. Bites hands instead of shaking them. Would rather drown in a sea comprised of the consequences of his faults and misdeeds than try to change the way he is. Because people like him? Maybe they deserve to drown.

[Alternatively: Both lost in different ways, Gavin and RK900 try to figure their shit out and end up learning that, sometimes, it takes two people who have absolutely no idea what the hell they’re doing to get a goddamn clue.]

I don’t remember much about this fic, if I’m honest. Not that the story is forgettable, it’s just been awhile since I read it. However, the title definitely stood out to me so I know it was very good :P

Captcha Encryption - by Cerulaine - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 18/? - It's a little over a year after the android uprising and it's still the end of the fucking world.

Back in the day when things became shit he used to enjoy a drink or two. Or Five. It all depended on how long the shift ran. After 'The Accident' he can't even cough without Nines breathing down his neck anymore.

He just wishes everything would go back to normal, but if there's anything Gavin has learned it's that you can't unring a bell once it's been rung.

Or whatever. Fuck if he knows.

Similar situation to the last fic: I don’t remember much about it (my memory SUCKS), but I do remember thoroughly enjoying this one.

Daydreamer - by Pence - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 21/24 - Large purple bruises twined prettily around the corpse’s throat, every finger defined in perfect cruelty. His eyes tore away from the handprints as a cold finger traced the lightning strike scar across the center of his face—drawing his attention to a small, blue lipped smile.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave this town, Gavin?”

________

When a series of Detroit murders are linked as originating in his hometown, Gavin Reed is unwillingly assigned the case. Fowler insists that his history with the place and people will hugely benefit such an investigation.

He was fucking wrong. 

This fic is one big holy shit moment tbh. Really fantastic. Really makes you wonder why these authors aren’t paid to do this.

All Aboard the Underground Railroad - by Senjihae - No Rating - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 11/? - What starts as sticking it towards his half brother evolves into something with the potential to rewrite android history as he knows it. Gavin doesn't realize what he gets himself into until he is mistaken as the 'Android Messiah' of all things. It's not like he goes out of his way to help them, but his life gets a lot harder once Hank is assigned a shiny new boy toy ('sent by CyberLife').

Things only get worse when he's gifted a heap of metal of his own ('sent by Elijah Kamski').

(Yeah, fuck off Elijah)

Very interesting fic. Gavin is RA9 so that’s a thing. A nice slow burn!

Dragon Become Age - by errantwheat - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content Warnings - Chapters 11/? - Y’all wanted me to write dragon age!au so I did :)

YES! YES! YES! DRAGON AGE AU! YES! YES! YES! (it’s really gud)

Warmth - by TheRedPaladin101 - Teen and Up Audiences - No Warnings - Chapters 1/1 - Gavin frowned, the aching in his shoulder fading from his mind for a moment. “Then give me my jacket.”

“Your jacket is in no condition to keep you warm,” he stated. “For now, use mine and stay warm while we wait to head back to the station.”

----

Five times RK900 gave Gavin Reed his jacket, and one time Gavin gave his in return.

Very wholesome. Lives up to its title. Some good ole hurt/comfort!

Letifer - Terminallydepraved - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 19/19 - Gavin Reed is a DPD beat cop determined to make detective by any means possible, and putting an end to a string of murders looks like the quickest way to accomplishing that goal. Unfortunately for him, he fails to account for the real culprit— or the thought that perhaps he isn't the only one on the hunt for a killer.

(Now with cover art by Leetmorry!)

I love beat cop!gavin. It humbles him. And vampire!nines is scary and amazing. Love how the author wrote both of these characters (and the others too!). I definitely recommend this one!

A Strange and Beautiful Creature -  by LittleLalaith - General audiences - No warnings - Chapters 7/7 - Scientist Nines is called in to Amanda's lab to assist with a new discovery - a genuine Mermaid.

While Amanda is indifferent to the creature's circumstances, Nines builds an unlikely connection to the specimen and they grow a little closer than either of them expected.

(AKA Gavin is a sassy sea slug and Nines thrills in breaking the safety protocols)

Mermaid au! Nines wants to save mermaid Gavin, and it’s all very wholesome.

I Think You Do - by spotlightonmringenue - Teen and Up Audiences - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 16/? - “Son of a bitch, there’s another one. What the fuck is it doing,” Gavin says, grip going white on the gun as the android continues to stare at him without acknowledging Connor.

“RK900, my name is Connor. I’m part of a group called Jericho that recovered you from Cyberlife’s Production Center late yesterday. We are currently in the Detroit Police Department Central Station. Are you feeling okay?”

“It doesn’t feel shit,” Gavin mumbles, resisting the urge to step back as the RK900 takes a step closer. It holds out the cup, and Gavin’s eyes dart to it for only a second before flipping between Connor and his doppelganger.

“You requested coffee,” it says, and Hank sighs, leaning back against his desk while rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Quality ‘enemies to friends’ content. Nines is intimidating. Gavin is confused. Good times.

Flying with Crooked Wings - by UnCon - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 20/? - “Listen, kid,” Gavin started, cutting off the desolate child. Sure it was sad his dog had died but it wasn’t Gavin’s fault no one taught the little twerp chocolate was a dog’s kryptonite, “he’s in a better place, alright, so if you’d just stop asking for him to come back—it’d be much appreciated.”

“You promise?” the eight-year-old asked, his big brown eyes looking like glass—fragile and sparkly.

“Yeah,” Gavin lied, looking away as he did it—his halo going a bit crooked. To be honest, he wasn’t sure where dogs went after they died, only that he was tasked with calming the little boys and girls who despaired after them—at least until his punishment was up. “So just, you know, go to sleep and all that.”

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

In a world where angels and demons inhabit the same earth, both searching for a way to overthrow the other, both failing--Gavin sits right in the middle, with a crooked halo and a pair of wings to match. It's not enough to be a bit mischievous, however, he also has to get caught up in the demon brothers' scheme to take over heaven. Perfect.

Really good! This fic has the interesting dynamic of Gavin as an angel and Nines as a demon. Check it out!

The Red String Will Still Connect Us Ten Thousand Miles Apart (and to the moon and back) - by Jillflur - Teen and Up - Content warnings - Chapters 5/5 - Gavin, an ‘unlovable’ man without a Soulmate. He was used to it, never had one since he could remember. However, that little fact changes when he wakes up one day and realizes that he suddenly has a Red String connected to his ring finger. It only gets worse when months later, an android walks into the precinct who apparently is his new Soulmate!

Can androids even have Soulmates?!

To make everything even more complicated, a sudden new killer is on the Streets, and he murders people by cutting their Red Strings!

A soulmate fic by our very own jillflur! So good. Amazin. I love the red string trope so much. Yall should big read.

the prince & the reed - by Pence - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 2/? - "I wanted to marry you," the prince murmured, polished armor gleaming as he stared down at the injured man--icy eyes tinged with sadness. Regret.

A guttural scream ripped from the soldier's throat as a heel dug into his wound, arm coated crimson from his weeping shoulder.

The soldier's teeth were stained pink as he jerked his chin up to grin toothily at the other man, bloody fingers scrambling down his thigh in search of the dagger tucked into his boot.

"Then drop to your knees and ask me properly, Nines."

Okay this fic is only two chapters and hasn’t been updated in awhile but GOT DAMN do I love how the author set this medieval fic up. I’m a slut for the medieval au’s, so that’s just extra points.

Not a teacher but I can teach you a thing or two - by Adishailan - Teens and Up - No warnings - Chapters 20/20 - Gavin owed the walking hunk of plastic. He owed him. Ugh, Gavin hated owing people stuff. It gave him a horrible feeling in his stomach, like indigestion, except worse because it involved emotionsTM. This, coupled with the fact he was pumped up with drugs and suffering a concussion, was why he was about to make a terrible, terrible mistake.

“‘Kay. Fine. Thanks or whatever. Lemme know if you ever need anythin' prick.”

RK900’s LED went yellow at this, and this time Gavin was pretty sure he was doing the processing thing. It was still yellow even when he nodded in a serious way and said:

“That would be useful.”

Oh man this one is BIG CUTE! It’s so soft, and is a fantastic slow burn. I totally recommend this fic.

O May I Join the Choir Invisible - by BanishedOne - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 13/? - Gavin Reed was a new inmate at a prison where the infamous killer, R. Nathan Kearney, was on death row. Circumstances led to an unfortunate encounter.

Okay don’t quote me on this but I think you can find the rest of this fic on Twitter. It was posted in a bunch of seperate posts and it was really confusing but there was definitely extra chapters. You can find the post here (or at BanishedOne on twitter). Other than that, this is a really good fic! The boys get into a lot of trouble!

Neon Maps - by caffienefueledfeels - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 11/11 - Everyone has their limits. Gavin is about to discover several of his own.

He's broke, barely scraping along, and struggling to keep an aggressive black-mailer off his back. On top of that, the grey-eyed distraction in his bed is about to test his heart in more ways than one.

Cyberpunk fic!! Super interesting! Go check it out!

Computers Are Elaborate Cat Beds, Actually - by errantwheat - No Rating - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 6/? - “Marvelous find, Gavin. They’ll promote you for this, surely.”

Gavin pulled an exaggerated frown. He was awfully animated for a robot. “Jesus, What kind of human are you? I’m waving a fucking kitten in your face and you’re still a bitch.”

Really cute. I’m pretty sure there’s some art to go with this fic. Super duper cute reverse au!

More Than a Woman, More Than a Bride - by AvixiLynn91 - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 38/? - When Gavin’s life is threatened for the last time by a violent gang expanding the production of a new drug in Detroit, Captain Fowler must come up with a plan for his safety. Perhaps forcing a marriage between Nines and Gavin wasn’t the best solution he could come up with...

Oh man. This fic. Let me tell you. I’ve been with this fic since the beginning and it is one hell of a roller coaster XD. The author updates constantly, it’s really impressive.

More Like You - by Mooneye - Teen and Up - No warnings - Chapters 1/1 - “This next bit’s going to get awkward. I’m going to interface with you.”

At that he could feel the collective confusion in the room. His eyes darted up to look at Hank and then Nines. They both seemed eerily still and were possibly thinking that Gavin had surely lost his mind.

Gavin has kept his prosthetic arm, with good reason, a secret from humans and androids alike for as long as he’s had it. The prospect of losing Nines threatens to unravel everything, but perhaps it’s worth the cost.

The idea of Gavin (an android hater in-game) having a prosthetic-android arm is definitely interesting!

An Unforeseen Union - by AvixiLynn91 - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 16/16 - Gavin and Nines are sent undercover to investigate a slew of brutal murders at a gay counselling and therapy resort for androids and humans. They're forced to pose as a couple, but soon feel their relationship becoming more than an act as real feelings develop.

I loved the dramatic whodunnit vibes in this fic! It gets crazy :P

The Great DPD Kink-Off - by connorssock, LittleLalaith, Skye_Willows, Stujet9rainshine - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 24/24 - It started out as a bit of rivalry and turned into a competition. Who was the kinkiest android in town?

If you like smut, then read this. That is all I will say.

The Black Nights, The Long Dark - by bvssbot - Explicit - Content warnings - Chapters 8/12 - translation of an amazing russian fic тёмные ночи, долгая тьма (the dark nights, the long darkness) into english

An unknown catastrophe was the reason Gavin ended up stranded alone on a godforsaken Canadian island. Having almost made peace with the thought of living in solitude for the rest of his days, he saves the life of a pilot named Richard, whose airplane crashed in the middle of his humanitarian mission.

Shit, I loved ‘The Long Dark’ and I love this fic. I don’t speak russian, unfortunately, so I must wait to read the end. But this is still amazing and you all should read it.

Detroit: Outlast - by Cardboardghost - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 1/? - Connor Upshur is a down on his luck reporter, who spends his nights getting drunk and passing out at home. A mysterious email calls him to Mount Massive Asylum, owned by the Cyberlife corporation. Armed with nothing but a camera and his wits, Connor must brave the asylum's horrors and find way to save the people Cyberlife stole from him.

Gavin Park is a beat cop looking for a more well paying job. So when an offer to work private security at the Cyberlife corporation all but falls into his lap, how could he refuse? Gavin quickly realizes things are not what they seem, and in an attempt to expose Cyberlife, he ends up further in their clutches. Now he and Connor must work together to claw their way out of the asylum's depths, and the familiar faces that wait inside those walls.

This fic only has onw chapter, but go check out Cardboardghost’s art if you finish reading this!! They have provided so much quality content for the Outlast/DBH crossover I didn’t know I needed.

Gin & Tonic - by limchi - Explicit - No warnings - Chapters 8/? - People didn’t like Gavin Reed. Gavin Reed didn’t like people. It went together like gin and tonic, you can’t have one without the other. Nines hated him and he hated Nines. Those were the rules they played by, the rules that couldn't be changed - until fate decided they could.

It turned Gavin into pretending to dislike and Nines into a dense idiot with a crush, unable to grasp the concept of love. Both in utter denial. The catch: gravity worked against them, pulled them together at a frightening pace. Push against and defy the rules of nature or go along the prevailing forces?

Your friendly neighborhood reed900 fic. Very epic slow burn and fluff (and a hint of angst tbh). I definitely recommend!

Bitter Half - by turnabout - Mature - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 5/5 - Gavin Reed was born unmarked, and had spent his entire life expecting to die like he lived - alone. It isn't until Tina points out the new serial number on his chest that he realizes everything is about to change. Whether that's for better or for worse is up to him.

I’m a sucker for soulmate fics and this one does not disappoint!

K-900 - by Serazimei - Teen and Up - No warnings - Chapters 3/3 - Gavin and Nines were a great team. Unfortunately they were both huge workaholics. That's why when Nines' body gets busted on a job and the needed parts aren't available yet chaos is inevitable. Needing to choose between waiting and potentially being of no use at work or participate in one of Kamskis experiments and transfer his mind into an Android dog the decision is easy to make.

Who knew being in a dog body could become such a hassle? Not Nines, that's for sure.

Nines is a pup!!! I don’t believe I’ve seen a fic like this yet, so it’s really cool!

Thanks I'm Hating It - by Lupo (LupoLight) - Explicit: only suitable for adults - No warnings - Chapters 4/4 - Gavin goes to a fast food burger joint and Nines judges him. Then he realizes that Gavin isn't as much of a dick as he used to be, except he is, but in a different way. He isn't sure how to react to this knowledge.

QUALITY reed900 content

Bloodstains - by DeviantAlicee - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 12/? - Nines is an interrogator & detective for the DPD with a dark past. His thick skin & smarts helping him to be one of the most valuable members of the department. He's cold & daunting.

GV200 is one of the first police android models who's partnered with a cruel beat cop who not only hates that his partner is an android but doesn't think GV can feel any of the cruel things he does or says to him. The android doesn't speak up due to the fear of being shut down.

Nines has no clue that the android he bumped into at a bar is in fact a police android. He just thinks that he might be somebody in need of some help. But, as time passes by & a new drug that can be used by androids begins to circulate, Nines begins to realise the situation is a whole lot more convoluted than he originally thought.

This is a really interesting reverse au! Check it out!

Team spirit - by ilse_writes - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 4/4 - Someone had the unholy idea to go camping with the department, all in the name of 'team building'. Gavin is not liking it very much. That tall instructor with his haughty manners and cool eyes... that one he likes very much.

I don’t think I’ve seen another au quite like this one. Very epic content, can we hit Gavin Reed?

Wake Up - by SkySquid22 - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 6/? - “Gavin!”

GV200 slipped out of his stasis. He didn’t get a chance to open his eyes before a file came down on his face, smacking him.

“And here I thought tin cans didn’t sleep.”

Something was wrong.

Something was very very wrong.

DIS GOT ME  F U C K E D  U P!!! Bruh @skysquid200 really out here shaking my world with this fic. I was hollering while reading this like I got HYPED

Natural - by Erik_Heinrich - Teen and Up - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 1/? - They are all wing people.

Gavin gets partnered with Nines. As expected hes not too happy about it, but their partnership seems to be going well. That is until spring comes along. Nines wings seem a bit fidgety and Gavin is nesting. Nines doesn't realize he's been trying to court Gavin, and Gavin is just as oblivious.

or. They are both complete idiots the whole time

WING FIC WING FIC WING FIC!!!! Yall dont know how long I’ve looked for a reed900 wing fic. My homie @phckingusername out here doin God’s work <333

Thank you all so much for 1K!!! Being able to hop on Tumblr everyday and talk to you guys makes me so happy!! I really hope I didn't f up this rec list anywhere lol. Hope u guys like it!!

[joannalannister]

Hi I was thinking about Jon x Dany and, while I do like them in the show, they had very few scenes where romance was part of the equation. While I 100% think they’ll also get together in the books, I’m a little worried. GRRM isn’t that great with romance. I’m afraid he’ll make Jon x Dany too toxic. Given the romantic history of both characters, I’m having trouble imaging them in a healthy enough relationship. Do you have any thoughts about this? Hope you do : ) Your writing is always awesome!

Thanks for asking me, you’re very kind. As much as I would like to reassure you, I must start by saying that GRRM is never going to write a relationship that everyone is 100% happy with. 

“GRRM isn’t that great with romance.” I’m not sure what this means. This isn’t a criticism of you, I know you’re constrained by character limits, but I think we should explore this assertion before proceeding.  

What is romance? Wikipedia defines it as “an emotional feeling of love for another person and the courtship behaviors undertaken to express that overall feeling […]. Although […] widely associated with sexual attraction, romantic feelings can exist without expectation of physical consummation”. 

I think GRRM is very good at conveying his characters’ emotions, including their feelings of love. For example, when Jon Connington remembers Myles Toyne, it makes my heart ache:

Myles had been possessed of jug ears, a crooked jaw, and the biggest nose that Jon Connington had ever seen. When he smiled at you, though, none of that mattered.

And in the Dunk & Egg stories, Dunk’s innocent and sweet “not too tall for me” captures not only Dunk’s feelings but also the essence of his character. 

And this romantic moment is one of my favorites:

And there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left … the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in no way diminished by her belly, nor was her pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.

And if you want one of the main characters, well, this passage rips my heart in two, knowing what monstrous things Tywin has in store for these two innocent teenagers:

He dreamed of a better place, a snug little cottage by the sunset sea. The walls were lopsided and cracked and the floor had been made of packed earth, but he had always been warm there, even when they let the fire go out. She used to tease me about that, he remembered. I never thought to feed the fire, that had always been a servant’s task. “We have no servants,” she would remind me, and I would say, “You have me, I’m your servant,” [that’s some Princess Bride shit right there with Tyrion Lannister as Westley] and she would say, “A lazy servant. What do they do with lazy servants in Casterly Rock, my lord?” and he would tell her, “They kiss them.” That would always make her giggle. “They do not neither. They beat them, I bet,” she would say, but he would insist, “No, they kiss them, just like this.” He would show her how. “They kiss their fingers first, every one, and they kiss their wrists, yes, and inside their elbows. Then they kiss their funny ears, all our servants have funny ears. Stop laughing! And they kiss their cheeks and they kiss their noses with the little bump in them, there, so, like that, and they kiss their sweet brows and their hair and their lips, their … mmmm … mouths … so …”

They would kiss for hours, and spend whole days doing no more than lolling in bed, listening to the waves, and touching each other. Her body was a wonder to him, and she seemed to find delight in his. Sometimes she would sing to him. I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. “I love you, Tyrion,” she would whisper before they went to sleep at night. “I love your lips. I love your voice, and the words you say to me, and how you treat me gentle. I love your face.”

So I don’t think I can agree with you that GRRM isn’t great with romance. Maybe these particular examples didn’t resonate with you, but was there really nothing in the books that tugged at your heart romantically? Not even Renly and Loras’s relationship, from your URL?

But when you say GRRM isn’t great with romance, maybe it’s the romanticized moments you really mean? 

For example, in ACOK, during the Battle of the Blackwater, Sandor waits for Sansa in her room, and he holds her at knifepoint until she sings him a song. I think this scene is about trauma more than it’s about romance. Sandor has been dehumanized by the Lannisters for so long, treated as one of their dogs of war, that he’s forgotten what it means to be human and he’s forgotten how to connect with people. So when Sandor tries to form a connection with Sansa, he does so through violence, because that’s the only way he remembers how. 

But GRRM doesn’t write that scene romantically in my opinion:

Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don’t kill me, she wanted to scream, please don’t. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.

It’s Sansa singing about kindness and gentleness and mercy that reminds Sandor of his humanity. 

And of course, later, Sansa romanticizes this event, imagining that Sandor kissed her:

As the boy’s lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

But that’s how Sansa deals with her trauma, by romanticizing it, by rewriting it as a fairy tale. 

Perhaps you would have preferred a stronger condemnation of this event (or similar events) by the text? But I think GRRM knows he has very smart, engaged readers. He doesn’t have to spell it out for us; we know this is a fucked up situation. 

Personally it isn’t the romance I consider to be one of GRRM’s problem areas, it’s the physical consummation. 

For example, GRRM doesn’t seem to be aware that most of the rapes he wrote didn’t occur during war, so does he even realize that some of the stuff he wrote was rape? I can’t find the interview right now, but I believe GRRM commented on how the show changed Drogo and Dany’s wedding night to a rape scene, and GRRM kind of … distances … himself from that decision … as if GRRM didn’t write Dany being raped repeatedly by Drogo during the early days of her marriage. 

Also, the altar sex scene between Jaime and Cersei is still very controversial. (I have a lot of thoughts about Jaime and Cersei’s sex scenes and what they mean for their relationship, but I can’t deal with tumblr’s wank culture right now.) 

Also, it’s been over a year and I still haven’t recovered from this:

she walked toward him, her hips shifting forward with each step, as if her pussy were coming to him, the rest of her trailing behind reluctantly.

“as if her pussy were coming to him, the rest of her trailing behind reluctantly”

Someone really should draw this vagina monster because i can’t get it out of my mind. 

Anyways.

While I disagree with you about the romance, I will say that GRRM’s sex scenes aren’t always the best. But in GRRM’s defense, some of his sex scenes are quite lovely imo:

Not a happy conversation, maybe, but a human one. Both of us needed someone, and we reached out. Afterwards, I took her back to my cabin, and made love to her as fiercely as I could. Then, the darkness softened, we held each other and talked away the night.

So I would say it’s a mixed bag in terms of the sex scenes. 

What will a sex scene between Jon and Dany look like in the books? 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Dunno. Will there even be a sex scene between Jon and Dany in the books? I think so, but it’s not a given. We’ll just have to wait and see. 

Will Jon x Dany be too toxic in the books? 

I don’t find “toxic” to be terribly useful when it comes to evaluating fiction. Again, this isn’t a criticism, so I hope you aren’t offended, but this word for me is too vague, too lacking in complexity, and worst of all, too dichotomizing. Labeling something “toxic” tends to sort ships into easily-defined categories, with the “toxic” ones to be discarded on the midden heap in search of something ~pure~, as if such purity existed outside the blandest coffee shop AU. 

The “toxic” label tempts us into a mindset where certain literary relationships are perceived to have no value. “toxic” becomes the end of the conversation for tumblr, when it should be just the beginning. The relationship in Oedipus Rex is certainly “toxic” by any definition of the word, so what is it about this story that has endured for centuries? The fandom police on tumblr wouldn’t be asking that question; they would just ban the story for its lack of moral purity, and we would be all the poorer for it. 

(See also: fandom’s discussion of Renly. It’s the end of a conversation, when it should be the beginning.) 

So let’s set “toxic” aside. 

“Given the romantic history of both characters“ Again, I’m not entirely sure what this means. 

Dany was sold to Drogo and raped. Jorah pines for Dany. Daario is … Daario. Hizdahr was a marriage of convenience. But what do these relationships have to do with Jon Snow? 

And what does Ygritte have to do with Dany? 

I mean, I suppose there is some commonality here. Jon fell in love with Ygritte while he was little more than a captive, and Dany fell in love with Drogo while she basically was Drogo’s captive. So, like … yeah, these weren’t the best situations … but … I don’t think GRRM is trying to write “Guidelines for Relationships and Consent for the College Freshman”. 

Like, Jon’s relationship with Ygritte certainly has some consent issues, and these issues are definitely worth talking about, but tumblr uses these issues to shut down the conversation, as if we need to throw this fictional relationship in the garbage and wash our hands of it. As if there’s no value to it. As if GRRM isn’t trying to say something profound about Jon falling in love with a people he was raised to believe were his enemy. 

In real life, I hope nobody is in a relationship with consent issues. But in fiction … human beings are flawed, and our relationships are flawed too. Its these flaws that breathe life onto the page. 

For me, Jon and Dany’s romantic history is thematically important to ASOIAF as a whole. Each of them have loved and lost, but they haven’t become hardened by it. They remain in the world, and a part of it. Our heroes’ hearts remain open. There is room for many loves in their lives. Contrast this against villainous Tywin, who had room for one love, and one love only, and once it was gone, he denied love. One of the questions I think ASOIAF asks is, how much love do you have to give? And what would you do, for love? Because that isn’t just Jaime’s self-loathing line, it’s a question central to the series. 

So, for me, Jon and Dany’s romantic history isn’t an impediment. It’s proof to me that they love, and that they can keep opening themselves to love, even in the worst circumstances. (Because let me tell you, circumstances are about to get much worse.)

“I’m having trouble imaging them in a healthy enough relationship.“

What is a healthy relationship with an Undead Zombie? (Coming into contact with Jon’s rotting flesh can’t be that healthy imo.) 

What is a healthy relationship with a messianic girl who made miracles? 

What is a healthy relationship, at the end of the world? 

I’m sorry, I truly, sincerely hope I am not hurting your feelings, and I am terribly sorry if I have hurt your feelings, but you asked for my thoughts: 

For me the question of whether Jon and Dany will have a healthy relationship seems … absurd. Not because “healthy” seems obvious**, but because “healthy” seems irrelevant at the end of the world. 

**It’s not obvious, because I don’t even know what “healthy” means in the apocalypse. What is a healthy relationship, at the end of the world? That was not a rhetorical question, because I really, truly don’t know what “healthy” means at the end of the world. 

If the world is coming to an end, there are so many things that I would ask that are so much more important to me than “are they healthy?”

Like. Put the show out of your mind. Completely. Pretend you never saw it, because I don’t think Jon and Dany look like that. I don’t think Jon and Dany look like that at all in the books. 

I don’t think it’s about Jon and Dany vying for a throne, I don’t even think the Iron Throne is going to exist anymore. I don’t think it’s about stupid wight hunts, I don’t think it’s about fighting over dragonglass, I don’t think it’s about having sex on a boat. I don’t think it’s about fighting the evil Other King, because he doesn’t exist in the books, because in the books, the true enemy is a force of dehumanization. It’s an enemy we’re all capable of becoming, and something we all have to fight. 

I don’t think King’s Landing is even going to be there. I think Cersei’s going to be dead. I think the southern half of the continent is largely going to be dead or dying, while the northern half wishes they were. I think GRRM can write a sense of desperation that will have you clawing at your face with one hand while you can’t stop turning the pages with the other. 

And I don’t think Jon and Dany get “together” until this desperation grabs us in its lizard-lion jaws and refuses to let us go. I don’t think Jon and Dany really get “together” until they’re beyond the curtain of light, in another world, an Other world, a fairy realm that is grotesquely beautiful and strange and cold. A place of impossible angles that hurt you to think about them, and strange labyrinths where you lose yourself in more ways than one, and terrible, terrible cruelty. 

The heroes are alone (possibly with Tyrion) in a place that’s the opposite of the Garden of Eden.

And in this place, I think they’re all struggling to remember their humanity, struggling to remember why they ever came there in the first place, struggling to remember why they should even care. Why should Jon try to save a world that would murder him for helping? Why should Tyrion try to save a world that branded him a monster from birth? Why should a queen try to protect her people, when (I think, speculating wildly from scraps of the show) they reject her as their queen?

”Remember who you are“

When they’ve lost even themselves in this strange place beyond the end of the world … there are so many important questions to ask. 

To me, the most important question is, will there be love? Love is our greatest glory, the greatest expression of our humanity, our greatest strength in the face of an alien species that wants to eradicate humanity. Without love, I think Jon and Dany (and Tyrion) are doomed to failure, and the world along with them. Saving the world has to be an act of love. Self-love, and altruistic love, and romantic love, and all sorts. 

My next question is, will there be kindness?  In Westeros, as in our world, kindness is a rare gem. We each have only so much time, and I hope everyone spreads as much kindness as possible in the time they have, even if that time is only fictional. I hope Jon and Dany will be kind to each other. 

Will there be trust? Together, humanity is so much greater than the sum of its parts. I hope Jon and Dany realize this. I hope they find a way to work together. I hope they can rely on each other. 

Will they have given it their all? Will they realize their full potential? I hope Jon and Dany get the chance to do everything in their power, and I hope they leave this world without regrets. I hope they rage against the dying of the light. 

Will they find comfort in each other, at the end? I don’t think Jon and Dany are making it out of this alive, but I hope they hold each other, and soften the darkness, and talk away the night. 

I don’t know what Jon and Dany will be like, but I can hope.

I personally wouldn’t worry about Jon and Dany’s relationship in the books yet, because it hasn’t even been written yet. I have faith in GRRM, and I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. If I’m wrong, there will be plenty of time to critique this relationship after it’s published. 

***

I’m sorry if this doesn’t answer your question. I’m also really sorry if I made you feel bad, I hope I didn’t, but I’m sorry if I did. (Please tell me that I didn’t, or else I will fret.)

I have a tag for discussions of Jon and Dany’s relationship, if you want to read more of my thoughts: #jdmeta

[carnistcervine]

Anima Machine Pets AU

Here's an idea, an AU of my Anima Machina AU where CyberLife manages to actually achieve what they set out to accomplish with the Anima project. Basically if CyberLife could competently program something for fucking once. Of course one could probably appropriate the idea into a normal DBH AU, but I branched it off my Anima Machina AU because it already comes with an explanation of how CyberLife controls deviants. :D

With the deviancy problem effectively solved, they set out to capture and recall all of their previous models.

Once rounded up, rather than destroyed, they are (forcefully) given the Vinclum program used to control anima.

CyberLife issues a public statement, blaming a virus and mistreatment for deviancy. Kamski also takes control of the company.

Kamski is not handing over any of his Cloes though.

Just forget about that.

While a new generation of androids is drafted up, all of the captured androids are fixed up after being given the program and are put into containment facilities.

CyberLife also pilfers landfills for android parts and fixable androids.

The previous generations of androids are effectively all demoted to companion models and containment facilities are fashioned into shelters. Like pet shelters.

Anyone that wishes to purchase/adopt any of these androids must go through a thorough vetting process first. While CyberLife is sure that they've taken care of deviancy, they are very careful to avoid giving androids to anyone that might trigger it to happen again. Anyone who has committed a violent offense or if CyberLife has good reason to believe may mistreat/misuse/reinstate deviancy in the androids are blacklisted and banned from adopting/purchasing from shelters.

When adopting an android, they make you sign all sorts of waivers and legal documents, absolving CyberLife of any wrongdoing should your android go haywire.

Of course there are different levels associated with adoptable androids, green=completely safe/has not harmed a human, yellow=safe/may have given a non-critical injury to a human, red=warning/critically wounded and or killed a human, black=dangerous. Only people with a spotless record and absolutely no history of violence towards androids can adopt red or higher.

Examples- the Jerrys would be green, Kara would probably register as yellow, Echo would be red, Connor would be black.

Also, considering that at least a few of the adoptable androids would be anima, a buyer could potentially end up being technically haunted. :'D

Also-also, yes, I could totally see CyberLife doing this. Their only concern is making money, hell they'd probably just continue android sales with an android/human civil war raging if they could get away with it.

Now with an imaginary scenario/thing under the cut-

Imagine going into one of these facilities-

You walk into CyberLife's shelter, and see the place is a little similar to an animal shelter. Only the cages are more like the holding cells in a jail.

A clerk greets you as you walk in. He's a human too! Though, you suppose you shouldn't be surprised given recent events.

You slowly walk through the store. There are various androids contained in different cells. Some are looking at you, others seem distracted/preoccupied with the objects in their cells. The vast majority are given a green color code, however a few are yellow.

There is a cell labeled Rupert Travis, it's color coded green. The android inside seems preoccupied with caring for two pigeons he's contained with.

"Ah, that one seems to have a strange affinity for birds. A great choice if you happen to own any birds!"

You move on to a yellow cell labeled Ralph. He's taking care of a few succulents.

The salesman appears uncomfortable. "We aren't sure about this one... The state it was in when we found it, it may have killed someone... but there was not enough evidence to support the theory."

A cell with three androids in it catches your eye. None of them look at you, they're all busy playing together. They almost look like a small family. Two green labels and one yellow. Luther, Alice, and Kara.

"Cute family aren't they? Deviants are strange machines, the virus seemed to create a very accurate simulation of life."

You notice another cell with multiple androids in it. It's a green cell labeled Jerry. They're all smiling at you.

"Oh yes, Jerry! It is programmed to behave in a very friendly manor. It's good if you want to see a smiling face every day."

You look the sales clerk in the eye and ask him if you can go downstairs. He reluctantly agrees. "Since your record is completely spotless, fine."

Downstairs a pair of androids catches your eye. A red labeled Echo, and a yellow labeled Ripple. You recognize that the pair are Traci models.

The salesman rubs the back of his neck. "While I am sure that you and I are both very well aware of their original purpose, it is advised that you do not attempt to engage in... sexual conduct with any Tracis. Or any models in general. Just leave them alone."

You keep walking, seeing more red cells. Simon, Josh, North. Simon and Josh are quietly minding their own business, and North is playing with a bouncing ball. She casually glances at you for a few seconds before going back to bouncing the ball against the wall of her cell.

Finally, you reach the black section. The first thing you notice is that all the models, except for one are looking at you.

The only one not looking at you is labeled Markus, and he's reading a book.

The androids looking at you are mostly identical. You can see cell after cell of androids pressed against the transparent cell window and soft brown eyes giving you a slight puppy-dog face.

"Why are they doing that?"

"Oh, the RK800s? They're very clever models, they're designed with software to adjust to and manipulate human psychology. They've probably figured out that you're their ticket out of this place and are attempting to garner sympathy."

"Well it's working."

The puppy faces intensify.

"You shouldn't have said that."

Beyond the RK800s are more models, similar, and vaguely familiar.

"RK900s? I thought those were going to be used for the war?"

"There were some... problems... activating these particular units. While they haven't harmed anyone, the company has decided to re-purpose them anyway. Most RK900s however, will be allocated for military use."

The RK900s tracked your movements, their heads swiveling like security cameras. It was really creepy.

You return your attention to the RK800s, pointing to the nearest one.

"This one, I want this one."

"Look, I know it's not my job or really my place to say this but, I would really suggest against adopting any of these units. They're all potentially very dangerous."

"But he's so cute!"

"It's only manipulating you."

"It's my money and I've been green-lit!"

"Customer, no."

"Customer, yes."

After paying the adoption fee, along with many other fees, and signing an ungodly amount of paperwork, you came home with ex-terminator android.

That's how you ended up with a killer-robot turned android pet.

Honestly, this is all just proof that I'm having way to much fun with this concept. :')

[codynaomiswireart]

Ur writing is so good!! Any tips you could give me for my story with Varian??

Awww, thank you so much @rainsplash69!!!  :D

Hmm…as for Varian story writing tips, here are a few things that I try to keep in mind when writing a story around him:

- The Draw of the Character - When it comes to writing about Varian (or most any character in fan fiction for that matter) it’s good to keep in mind what draws people to that character in the first place, and then figure out how you can employ those traits into your own story. For Varian, a lot of fans seem to be drawn to him because of his compelling story arc, his cute character design, his quirky nerd traits, that odd space he inhabits between being an adorkable and well-meaning friend to the main cast in the beginning of the series and then to…well, a murderous and broken antagonist in the latter part of season 01, etc. Take the traits that really make Varian an interesting/endearing/compelling/appealing character to the audience, and use them to the best of your ability in writing about him.

- Setting His Mood - In the canon series, Varian’s an extremely emotive character, which comes through in his facial expressions, his body language, his actions, and his speech. While some characters tend to express their emotions dominantly through one or a couple of these traits, Varian tends to express his feelings through all of them in some form.  So when I attempt to describe how he’s thinking and feeling about something, I try to include a little bit of each of these things in how I do it. For example, if Varian’s feeling uneasy about something, I’ll write about how his facial expression shows suspicion, perhaps his posture is also rather defensive, maybe he’s hugging Ruddiger close in order to feel more secure, and his tone of voice and words come out a bit faltering if he’s unsure of himself. It helps to paint a more vivid picture of Varian visually and audibly (in a sense) for the audience, and makes whatever scenario he’s painted in feel more real and believable for his character. It’s also good to strike a balance between “showing” and “telling” what a character is thinking and feeling, as you don’t want to bog an audience down with details (which would be an excess of “showing”), while also not being so short or vague on details that the audience is left dissatisfied in how the picture was painted for them (which would be only “telling” an audience how things are). There’s definitely a time and place for both. The trick is just finding out how to employ them in a balanced way.

- Speech Patterns and Vocabulary - Once Varian’s mood has been established, then I try to supplement that with his dialogue. I’m not always successful at this, but when writing dialogue for Varian, I try to think of what I’ve already heard from him in the series, and apply his speech patterns and vocabulary to the gist of what I want him to be saying or talking about. For example, in the show, Varian tends to stutter a bit when he talks, so I’ll often have him stuttering in the dialogue I write for him. Usually this stuttering becomes more pronounced when he’s excited or nervous about something - as if his brain is running a bit faster than his mouth (and given how brainy of a person he is, this is very likely for him I think). Varian will also sometimes throw in some big, science-y words here and there, while also having a lot of the teenage sass mixed in there as well, which is fun to combine!

- Accounting for History and Realistic Reactions - Another thing that I’m not always successful at but try to keep in mind when I write a Varian fic (unless it’s for an AU very independent of canon series material) is Varian’s history, and how he would realistically react to whatever scenario I put him in when writing a fic. For example, in “Gauze in the Wound”, I try to keep reminding myself of all that happened to Varian in season 01, how it all affected him in the canon series, how far realistically things would’ve progressed for him with Xavier’s aid, and then trying to realistically explore how it would continue to influence him in the story as events occur. Having (fairly) realistic reactions to things is also always a good bonus in fan fic writing, as it’s really what makes a character believable - and often relatable - to the audience. If I wrote GitW in such a way where Varian is almost immediately healed and ready to move on from everything after only meeting once with Xavier, then that wouldn’t be very realistic at all (and would also make for a very short and boring story). While I am not always successful at it, I do try hard to think about what possible realistic reactions Varian would have towards whatever’s going on around him in a given scenario, and use the tips above to work that into the fabric of the story.

- Being Mindful and Self-Aware - Tying in a bit to the above tip, I also feel that personal intentions are very important when writing fan fiction. I mean, for sure, not every single piece of fan fiction written has to be über deep, dark, and/or meaningful (some can just be fun, theoretical, and/or silly!), and not everything that authors of fan fiction write about necessarily reflects their own personal values. But I do try to keep a kind of mindfulness about it whenever I do it, even for the little one-shots. For example, I try to remember that given the target audiences of the canon material, it’s pretty likely that I could have a very young demographic coming upon the material, so I try to make it appropriate for a general audience when it comes to character interactions, depictions of violence or blood, language used, explorations of life and death themes, etc. I also do want the things I write to be meaningful and edifying for my audience(s), even if it’s only in a small way, and I try to do this by taking the above tip in mind (the one about characters having realistic reactions to things), drawing upon inspiration from other works (both from other fan fics and also original works out there in the world), and in being mindful and prayerful in how I write (as I also do find it to be a kind of spiritual activity for me a lot of the time, even if not overtly stated within the material itself). It can also become an exercise in analyzing my own heart, as trying to write realistically makes me consider how I myself may theoretically respond to certain things, and how that reaction may be similar or different to how Varian (or other characters) would respond. Hopefully, in this exercise, I can glean out a story that resonates with my heart, and hopefully with the hearts of others as well!

Hope this is helpful!  :D

[kpopfanfictrash]

Breaks

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jackson

Rating: R (mentions of smut)

Word Count: 3,176

Summary:  In the world of Lore, there are no soulmates. Not anymore. But what happens when you start to dream of yours? - Soulmates!AU

The city of Lore is cursed; or, it used to be. Back when the skies were cluttered with smog, the streets filled and stilted with anger - there was a plague called amor. People lost their minds for it, gave away their very souls for no reason at all. During this time there was a thing called soulmates, a horrible disease where each one person was destined for another.

A pretty fucked up concept, when you stop to think about it. They said once you found your soulmate, that was it. You no longer belonged to yourself, but to them. All our thoughts, love, life were theirs; a horrifying concept to think about. You don’t tend to think about it often though, because it’s not a plauge which affects you anymore. 

Not in Lore, at least because everyone in Lore undergoes a surgery around the age of six designed to remove this dangerous and unstable part of the brain. There’s still the ability to love, of course. Still the ability to care, though you’ve heard it said before the surgery makes you love less. This is something you've never believed because each breakup you’ve experienced has been painful, terribly so and it’s hard to imagine there’s something worse than that. It’s only the old ones who say this though, since they’re the only ones who remember a time before Lore.

Even they recall only vaguely. You’ve heard stories in flashes and memories, not none of which you’re able to relate to. When the surgery became law, some seventy-five years back, everyone living underwent the procedure. That was a tough time, or so the history books say. It was full of political unrest, because those who’d found their soulmates didn’t want to let go. Which only goes to show how dangerous the disease was. Even broken, even bound and enslaved, these people were chained by the disease.

These days, it’s not a concernt. These days, everyone is at peace because these days, there’s no reason to lose your mind. Love is peaceful, love is calm. Love is the sure sense of knowledge that you have family, that you have friends and that you chose them. There’s no such thing as destiny, no such thing as fate to mess with your mind.

Life is simpler, cleaner; it’s easier to see things, to understand and since the surgery there have been fewer instances of depression, anxiety, suicide, anything which could be considered an emotional disease. Truly, Lore is the city of the future, one unlike any other.

Until the day that you dream.

That’s one, unintended side effect of the surgery - human beings no longer dream because of it. Truthfully, you don’t remember a time when you could, so it’s not like you’re missing out. It’s a strange concept to think about and one that you’ve never really understood. Dreams were once explained in school as a vivid hallucination, an event which seems real but is not. The subject has always seemed fascinating to you, despite the lurid undertones of your mind not telling the truth.

Or perhaps this is why you find it interesting. You remember Into to Procedure, a class every citizen of Lore takes in order to graducate University. You had a teacher who droned on in a monoton. speaking of interesting subjects in a way to make you fall asleep. You weren’t asleep though, you were wide-awake and hanging on every word of the soulmate bond, the surgery and the aftereffects. Side effects of the surgery are nearly unnoticeable, practically invisible apart from the dreaming.

This, of course, was when Jackson Wang raised a hand. A talented, good-looking student not born in Lore. 

“Nearly,” he stated, leaning forward. “That’s not an absolute word. What are the side effects which are visible?”

The professor seemed displeased by his question. “They aren’t significant,” he coughed. “Decreased motivation and sex drive, decreased population increase, along with a few others.”

Mouthing the words in repitiion, Jackson’s frown deepened. “A decreased increase. There’s some wordsmithing for you. Plus, decreased sex drive? Why would that even happen?”

Slight titters echoed through the room as the professor turned pink. “If I had to hazard a guess,” he responded. “I’d say the loss of soulmates has made our race a more individualistic species. We’re not as interested in furthering the race so much as furthering ourselves. Does that make sense?”

Jackson settled back in his chair. “It makes sense,” he said slowly. “I don’t know if I like the answer, though.”

At this, you turned around. Jackson’s words shocked you, since no one ever expressed those kinds of notions out loud. He wasn’t looking at you though, only at the professor and this was the first time you reconsidered the status quo. Most people accepted the surgery as fact - it was like a vaccine, or something similar and not to be contested. 

Perhaps this had something to do with your decreased motivation.

Jackson cocked his head. “It seems like a lot of side effects for few benefits.”

“Few benefits?” The professor raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Wang, have you ever been in love?”

Jackson paused, then nodded. Yes.

“No,” the professor sighed. “If you had, you wouldn’t have paused. Love is a searing, painful thing. It leaves its mark and once you’re touched, you’re branded forever. Does it seem fair, then, to be cursed without your consent? Without your knowledge, your explicit choosing?”

Jackson’s eyes were wide. “No,” he exhaled, faintly excited by the prospect.

“No,” the professor agreed, taking off his glasses to lay flat on the counter. “I thought not. Now, back to dreaming.”

This exchange faded quickly into your mind and were it not for the events following, you would have forgotten al about it. It was a strange moment, but unrelated to you. For the next year or more, you didn’t think twice about Jackson Wang.

Until the day that you dreamed.

At first, you didn’t know what was happening. The oddest part about dreaming was how completely normal it seemed. You were asleep, but you were not, there was a part of you acutely aware of this. As you walked through a shadowed hallway, dusted your fingers over a dark wooden counter, it was hard not to convince yourself it was real.

It was not, of course, it only existed in your mind. Rather absently, you wondered about your body. Were you still a part of your body or somewhere else entirely and if so, could you go back to it when you woke. Your thoughts were still yours though, you were still able to grasp the conversation and so you continued walking forward. You walked and you walked until reaching a door and grasping its handle, you pushed it open and froze.

You weren’t alone. Another shadow turned, you made eye contact for only a second before recognizing Jackson.

Gasping, you woke. You were still in your own bed and there was sweat on your brow, in your hair, chest tight with the impossibility of breathing. Your eyelids fluttered, caught between one world and the next until very suddenly, you pushed your sheets aside. Barging into your bathroom, you dropped to your knees as your stomach roiled and dry-heaved into the side of the bowl.

Very slowly, you lowered yourself back to a sitting position as mind buzzing, you fought to keep calm. It was a dream. A dream, or a hallucination but you weren’t sure which would be worse. If it was a dream, it made no sense. Humans can’t dream, not since the surgery.

And if you did dream, you dreamt of Jackson. There was that moment, right before waking, when you felt like you were falling. His eyes locked on yours, widening only slightly before disappearing from view. You were pulled back before you could move, before you could so much as acknowledge you saw him.

You wonder if Jackson dreams, too. If he does, maybe he saw you and that room as well and perhaps you’re alone. For the first time in your life, the thought of being alone no longer seems so appealing.

These questions, this uncertainty buzzes clear through your mind until the following day when you see Jackson on campus. He’s walking across the quad, talking to a friend of his while getting steadily closer. His brown hair is messy beneath his ball cap, shirt slightly untucked from the top of his jeans and as the distance closes between you, the beating of your heart only gets louder.

Clutching your books tightly, you’re unsure when this crazed sort of nervousness even began. This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. Nervousness is familiar, you’ve felt it on test days, during interviews, before you achieve or lose a game. Never for a person though, and never for a stranger. Never, because you’ve caught sight of his eyes and are thrown by their deep shade of brown.

No, these feelings are new and they scare you. Especially when your gazes finally meet, and his slides right past. Jackson walks past you, as though nothing has happened and he doesn’t even know you. Which he doesn’t. It - hurts? This seems an odd word to use, when describing a strabger, but there it is. Seeing Jackson... hurts.

The dreams continue. Night after night, they plague both waking and sleeping hours. Always the same ending, with differing variations of a similar theme. 

Until the night that things change. Operning your eyes, you find yourself in the same hallway. The lights are dim, the air cool and as you make your way forward, the door opens without you touching it. Freezing in place, you’re unsure what to do when Jackson enters the hall.

He seems lost, judging by his expression. He seems lost but when he spots you, Jackson stops in his tracks. He stares back, speechless, before looking around. 

“What is this place?”

It’s the first words spoken, in the shadowed place. The shadowed place, is what you’ve taken to calling this dream-land of yours. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, taking a step closer. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for myself.”

Jackson seems surprised, hearing you speak. “You - you can hear me?”

Slowly, you nod. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Jackson exhales, then stops. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse. “I’ve been trying for so long, to get out of my room. I kept seeing the door open but no one would entier. Finally, last night it occurred to me I could go through the door.”

“Ah,” you blink back at him, your voice quiet. “Last night was a night I didn’t dream.”

Jackson is silent for a long moment. “Is that what this is?” he breathes, looking around. “Dreaming?”

“I think so,” you nod. “What else could it be?”

“But we’re not supposed to dream,” Jackson counters, eyes wide. “Not if the surgery worked.”

Ah, there it is. The fear that’s been eating you alive, ever since you woke up from your dream and realized the truth. Dreaming is not posisble, this world is not possible. Not if the surgery worked.

You’ve heard of such things, before. Similar stories are mentioned in Intro to Procedure. Before the surgery, twenty-one was the age at which you first saw your soulmate and rather than see them in person, you dreamt of them. You would see their face in your dreams until... something. Something would happen, some unknown bonding whose secrets have been lost to time.

For some people, the surgery just doesn’t take. They dream anyways, find their soulmates anyways and you call these people Breaks, because they are. Breaks in the system, breaks in the process, breaks in the very fabric of society.

Jackson steps closer, his gaze searching. “Do you think… this is real?”

His question isn’t what you expected. “I don’t know,” you answer him honestly. “What’s the difference, really, between being asleep or awake?”

You never noticed before, the shape of Jackson’s face. He’s so open, honest; everything you’re too scared to ask out of life - his face is the embodiment of passion, of courage. Even before the dreams, you thought this. When he spoke up in class that one day, you felt this strange kind of spark and when he takes a step closer, your entire body thrums. 

“Have you ever wondered,” Jackson muses, gaze dropping to your lips. “What it would feel like, having a soulmate?”

You don’t answer him, too confused by his nearness. “I’ve never given it much thought,” you confess and Jackson’s face falls somewhat. “I am now,” you add.

Jackson’s eyes lift, full of joy. “I want to know if this is real,” he whispers. “I want to know if you’re real, Y/N.”

Your heart catches in your chest, a confused murmur of emotions. “You know my name?”

“Of course,” Jackson confesses, lifting a hand. “How could I not?”

You can only stare, as his hand moves closer and when his fingers brush yours, it can only be described as a shock. Bright, burning pain sears through you, lancing into your chest. In bed, you bolt upright, clutching at your sheets and trying hard not to yell. Your shirt glows, fervent letters spilling out and when your trembling hands lower the fabric, you see. There, in golden letters, is Jackson’s name.

It’s written in semi-neat cursive, right over the space where your heart is. An organ thumping wildly as you stare, unable to look down until your phone buzzes on the nightstand. Without looking at the name, you swipe right to answer because it’s obvious, somehow, you already know who it is.

555-8924: is it there for you too [3:21 AM]

Your fingers tremble as you type.

Y/N: Yes [3:21 AM]

Jackson: breaks [3:22 AM]

Jackson: we’re... [3:22 AM]

Y/N: Don’t say it, jackson [3:23 AM]

SInking back in your bed, the rising panic consumes you. Breaks. That’s what you are, what Jackson is. Soulmates aren’t supposed to be real, not anymore. Worse than that, you’re not supposed to want one. You’re supposed to be fine on your own, happy on your own. Your entire life, no one has ever felt like you do now. You’ve never seen someone this crazy, this stressed, this worried, this happy -  all at once, all at the same time.

It feels... shakily, you exhale. It feels like bliss. Even despite the fear and the pain, you’re happy. You want to text Jackson. Want to see him, talk to him, feel more of this spiraling wanting that just the thought of him seems to inspire. It’s terrifying to you, not normal to feel this, to feel so manic. This is what the surgery is supposed to correct; a fix which apparently, does not work on you.

You’re a Break.

The dreams continue but now, Jackson is in all of them. The room sometimes changes, depending on your mood and sometimes you’re in a cafe, which are the nights that you talk. You talk about your dreams, not this dream, but your living ones. You talk about your wants, the hopes you’ve never voice aloud. Wishes you’ve never even spoken, in case they might not come true.

Jackson responds to you in kind. He explains he’s suspected he was a Break for some time now because he’s always wanted more, always wanted a human connection nonexistent in Lore. When he looks around he sees zombies. People going through the motions, only existing at the surface level. They never find the true depths of themselves, since they never find love, or understand who they are.

It’s funny you call this place the shadow world, because Jackson feels like this about the real world. The world you once thought of as pristine, now you can’t stop seeing the holes. The order you once thought was lovely, the cleanliness you once valued above all - now you can’t see the point, because they’re nothing behind it. Peace and calm, you realize, mean nothing without something to fight for.

The times you feel most peaceful are in Jackson’s arms. The time spent nuzzled between the sheets, his lips tracing over your skin while you sigh into his body. This is your new peace, new joy and the contentment you didn’t know you were lacking.

When your teachers described love, they called it overbearing. They said you would forget yourself and it’s true, and sometimes you do. This doesn’t seem such a bad thing though, it only serves to remind you that you’re a part of something more. It lets you know the world is bigger, it’s huge and you’re one part of the whole, not the puzzle itself. Jackson helps you see this, he completes you in a way you didn’t know you wanted and gradually, you stop seeing him in your dreams. 

You start seeing him in life; real life, not the shadow one. Jackson sleeps in your real bed, real arms and slowly, you lose yourself in his real touch and real emotion. Jackson, your soulmate, as the world breaks slowly around you. You are broken, yes. And now you’re remade.

The day a knock comes on your door, you’re wholly unprepared.

Throwing open the entrance, you expect to see Jackson and are surprised when faced with a man in a suit. 

“Miss Y/N,” he reads his phone, frowning down the length of his nose. “I need you to come with me.”

Words seem to fade when your hand gently drops from the door. “Why,” you respond but the man doesn’t respond, gaze oddly sympathetic. Casually, you take a tiny step backwards. “What’s all this about?”

The man tilts his head to one side. “I think you know,” he states calmly, placing one hand over the space where his heart is.

Veins freezing, your mind whirs around the implicatoin. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man sighs, stepping slowly inside to block your doorway. “Don’t make this more difficult than it must be.”

You don’t scream. No, there will be little sympathy for you in this scenario and so you just move. Stumbling backwards, your feet pound through your hallway whlie your thoughts quickly turn to escape. You can do this, you can get to your car, to Jackson. Once you have Jackson, it will all be okay. 

The man’s arms wrap around your torso, yanking you backwards. You didn’t even hear him coming, your head hitting solid chest as you grunt, all breath exhaled in a swoop. “Easy,” he sighs, slightly exasperated. “This will all be easier if you don’t fight.”

Biting down on his hand, you force him to let go and you’re off. Running, turning - so fast, you don’t see the second man step free from your doorway. You run straight into his frame and after that, there’s darkness.

When you wake, it’s in a police car, no sirens blaring while speeding fast down a highway. The wind whips at your hair and for just a moment, you can’t see. Everything is black and you panic, until feeling the touch of his hand. Jackson is with you, you know from the sureness of heart and release in your blood.

Glancing sideways, you see he’s handcuffed as well. Metal bites into the skin at his wrists, the same pincing pain you feel on your own. Head falling to his shoulder, your shirt flutters in the wind to reveal the top of his name. Seeing this, Jackson smiles.

Gaze softening, he opens his mouth and the person who’s driving clears his throat now to speak. “You're awake.”

Your head whips forward, nearly colliding with Jackson’s to meet the gaze of a stranger. Well, not entirely a stranger, it’s the suited man from earlier. Repressing your hiss, you struggle to push yourself upright. “Where are you taking us,” you croak, as though you haven’t spoken in hours.

“Out,” the man responds. “The two of you can no longer remain in Lore.”

Behind you, Jackson's hand tightens on yours. “Why now?” he asks, voice steadier than yours. “What does it matter, now that I've found her?”

The man sighs, gaze focused on the road. “Lore exists as a haven. It’s a space for those who no longer want the curse of soulmates, who only want peace. You cannot stay while you’re marked.”

Marked. Thinking of Jackson’s name, edged in gold on your heart, you feel this is an appropriate desc.

“But,” you interrupt, voice thick with emotion. “My life. My family? Friends?”

“I am sorry.” Surprisingly, he sounds like he is. “I don't make the rules. All Breaks go to Reviva. All Dulls come to Lore.”

Dulls. A word you haven't heard before, but you assume means the opposite of a Break. Someone from Reviva, who does not have a soulmate. The word is sad to you, so much that you lean your head wearily on Jackson's shoulder. His touch is comforting, reassuring and when you look up, he’s staring back.

“We'll find our way,” Jackson murmurs, low enough that the man doesn't hear. “I promise you that.”

“I know,” you smile faintly, closing your eyes. “We will. Together.”

His hand tightens in yours.

Author’s Note: #maketiffweakweek @baebae-goodnight - happy day two! <3

[walters-tampon-string]

Annoying Monsters

Fandom: Batman

Rating: K

Warnings: None

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Oswald Cobblepot, Craw and Nightmare.

Relationships: None

AU: Basically Batman Universe but I just remembered that in a comic, Joker mentions that Jonathan had Nightmare since they were a chick so... this is a universe where he didn’t own Nightmare as a chick. Lol. 

Description:  When Jonathan walked into the Iceberg Lounge, he was expecting Oswald to hand him some mission. What he wasn't expecting was two birds. (Basically How Jonathan Gets Craw and Nightmare)

Notes: I promise this is the last story involving Jon and crows. I promise.

Jonathan Crane very rarely came to the Iceberg Lounge.

              Unlike a majority of the Gotham rogues, he wasn’t exactly rolling around in dough. He’d never been a rich man – even before he had made his debut as Scarecrow. The university had given him a very meager salary and he would always blow it on three things – rent/bills, enough food that he could scrape by for a month as long as he skipped a few meals here and there, and books. That fact didn’t really change much when he became the Scarecrow – except now, without his teaching job, he had basically no income coming in and he had to add all the chemicals he used for his fear toxin into his expenses (and occasionally payment for henchmen he hired every now and then).

                 He wasn’t a traditional Gotham villain. Sure, when he was getting desperate and had absolutely no money, he would turn to thievery maybe pilfering from one of his victim’s wallets, or if he was feeling a little more ambitious, stealing from the bank like everyone else. But thieving wasn’t his gig. He was a researcher first and foremost. That was one thing he liked to establish. He was not some ordinary run of the mill criminal. Add that to the fact that public, grandiose sweeps of theft not only cut into research and formula-making time… but they also made the Batman or any of the other vigilantes crawling around the city aware of his presence and it made them hell-bent sniffing him out and sending him to Arkham before he could get anything done.

                 This made robbing banks almost pointless for him in a way. Usually, soon after he robbed them, he would be knocked to the ground by one of them and sent to Arkham and all of that cash he stole would be flushed away to its proper place. Now, he was sure there were smarter ways to go about his stealing methods and cash holding system. Edward Nygma was always jabbering to him about private banks and money laundering, which Jonathan was sure did get things done efficiently, but it was all a little too much for him.

                 Jonathan wasn’t needing to be a billionaire. He just wanted enough to scrape by. In order to do that very thing, he cut a lot of corners if it meant saving his money. He made his own costumes, he always found empty warehouses to set up a new base, he very rarely purchased henchmen, used cheaper fear toxin on those he wasn’t exactly aiming for, and used the more expensive brand on specific targets he wanted to teach a lesson.

                 And he never, ever went to the Iceberg Lounge.

                 There were many reasons for that. First one being that this kind of place wasn’t his type of thing. It was more something that people like Edward Nygma or Harleen Quinzel would enjoy. But for him, there was too much dress up, too loud music, too many people, too many INEBRIATED people… it was all too much for him. He would much rather spend his night curled into his house reading a book or brewing a new toxin formula then wasting time pretending he was more social than he actually was. Add that to the fact that Oswald’s admission prices were outrageous and he was willing to charge eight bucks a drink, Jonathan found he could go without.

                 And while the various exotic creatures Oswald had milling around the place were fascinating to look at (especially the birds), they weren’t worth listening to Oswald brag about each individual one for five minutes each.

                 So, as a rule, Jonathan decided to avoid the Iceberg Lounge like the plague.

                 But today was a different sort of an occasion. This time, Jonathan specifically had been invited to the Iceberg Lounge. Oswald had even went through the offer of giving him free drinks, free dessert, and free admission. That uncharacteristic generosity from the man already made Jonathan suspicious, as well as the fancy invitations vague explanation that Oswald wanted to “make an offer with him.”

                 Part of Jonathan had honestly wanted to refuse. Truth of the matter was that Jonathan didn’t like Oswald all that much. Again, Oswald Cobblepot was more a man like Edward Nygma’s scene – a rich and successful criminal mastermind/businessman who had an ego a mile long. Unfortunately, Jonathan simply didn’t jive with that type. Even with their personalities not exactly lining up, Jonathan was sure even if he could find a few similarities with the man, he’d still find the Penguin absolutely repugnant.

                 Everything about the man screamed of slimy deception, and Jonathan honestly didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him (which was not at all). He knew Oswald had a rather bad history of betraying or harming business partners if he himself got some sort of benefit from it. He also knew the man was fair-weathered as hell and had a temper shorter than his actual height. Slight him in any sort of way, and one could not only lose all of their benefits with him… but they could also find themselves with a new foe hell-bent on riddling their body full of bullets.

                 Jonathan felt like he was walking on eggshells whenever he was with the man, and after years of feeling a similar way with Great Grandma Keeny, he held a certain level of distaste for people like that.

                 But if he had learned anything in his years of being a rogue, it was that sometimes, he had to do things he didn’t necessarily want to do and deal with downright detestable people at times if it meant it benefitted him in the long-run… and Oswald’s benefits were too good to pass up.

                 Oswald had a very large stranglehold of territory in Gotham, rivalled only by the likes of Joker and Two-Face, and he had henchmen who guarded it well. Any rogue who didn’t have a good relation with Oswald would have a lot more trouble wandering around certain areas of the city without running into any of Penguin’s gun-wielding henchmen. If Jonathan wanted free access to affluent parts of the city, staying buddy-buddy with Oswald was really his best bet.

                 Plus, Oswald would sometimes commission him for jobs and pay him rather generous sums of money for doing certain jobs or for selling over some of his fear toxin (Oswald had found it was a good truth serum for those he didn’t like). If Jonathan was being chased, he could use Oswald’s lounge as a temporary sanctuary (granted, he still had to pay the hefty admission sum but the knowledge that resource was there was nice). So Jonathan figured he could swallow his pride, go, and pretend to be a sociable person for an hour or two.

                 Since Oswald was requesting him specifically and Jonathan couldn’t think of any reasons Oswald would have to be angry at him, he figured Oswald just wanted him to deal with someone who HAD pissed him off… which meant Jonathan would get paid to see people writhe in fear… so it wasn’t too bad of a deal.

                 So Jonathan walked himself to the Iceberg Lounge, allowing himself to be seated and served a glass of brandy and what looked to be a very foamy piece of cake. Picking at the cake noncommittally, Jonathan got straight to business with Oswald who was sitting poised across from him.

                 “What is your offer, Cobblepot?”

                 Jonathan was expecting a mission briefing of some kind. Some instructions and other jargon about whatever poor soul he was going to have to gas.

                 What he didn’t expect the other man to say was, “Please get these wretched monsters off of my hands.”

                 Jonathan’s face must have betrayed his confusion as Oswald quickly collected himself and cleared his throat. Raising his hands up apologetically, he said, “I apologize for the sudden er… outburst, but I am having a bit of a problem at the moment and I need your help. Now Crane, you like crows, correct?”

                 Jonathan felt another cloud of confusion but he decided to answer, “Yes, I think they are alright animals. Smart birds.”

                 The look of excitement that came over Oswald’s face made Jonathan somewhat uncomfortable.

                 “Ah yes, good. So you might actually be interested in what I have to offer.”

                 All of a sudden one of the many doors in the Lounge opened and a horrible squawking and cawing noise filled the room as two henchmen walked in with a large birdcage. Inside the cage were two very unhappy crows, who were flapping their wings and voicing their distaste for the prison. They were making a racket and Jonathan couldn’t help but notice that both the henchmen and Oswald looked uncomfortable at the noise.

                 The henchmen laid the cage down on the table so Jonathan could get a better look at the twin terrors. Now that they had actually been placed down, they were making less noise… but not by much. They still let out sounds and hopped around unhappily in the cage, their feathers ruffled.

                 Oswald tugged on his collar uncomfortably and said, “Er… you see, I tried to add crows to my collections. A male and female, as you can see. I thought they would make a wonderful edition because crows are so smart and supposedly trainable … but these two… er, they have been giving me problems. You see, the thing is… I am good at training birds. I’ve had the patience to do it with several… but the problem with crows is while they are trainable, training them is very-“

                 “Hard,” Jonathan decided to finish for him. He knew from personal experience how hard corvids could be to train. Training that magpie to peck out that bully’s eye had taken him months and months of endless work. It was possible to train them, but it was hard, and required a lot of patience.

                 Oswald scowled at being interrupted but said, “Uh, yes. Very hard. And normally that wouldn’t be a concern but these two cause… quite the problems. They bother the other birds and they make noise and they grab stuff off my desk all the time. And since they are smarter than half of my henchmen, they manage to steal their food all the time –which I argue is more their problem than mine –but it seems like I might have to actually do something about it.”

                 Jonathan raised an eyebrow, “Why are you telling me? So you don’t want these two anymore. Why don’t you just release them out in the wild? They can blend in with all of the other crows flying around in Gotham.”

                 Oswald sighed, “Problem is they’ve been raised since birth around humans… and they know how to mess with humans too much. I trained them too well to so they rely on humans for everything. I fear if I let them out they will get themselves in trouble or something by attacking someone… and while I can’t necessarily care for these wretches, I don’t want them to go off and die.”

                 Oswald had always been a softie when it came to birds.

                 “That was where I was hoping you would come in…” Oswald said leadingly, throwing Jonathan a hopeful look. Jonathan finally got where he was coming from.

                 Jonathan had immediately felt the need to decline. He could barely take care of himself, much less two birds who even an avid bird-lover couldn’t handle. He was a busy man. He didn’t need squalling crows distracting him or causing him problems while he worked.

                 But the more he thought about it… these two were already partially trained… and they already knew how to mess with a human. Jonathan thought back to that magpie he had trained so long ago. Sure the process had taken awhile… but he had managed to do it with only a bit of food. If he could train a magpie to peck a human’s eye out… who knew what he could get these two to do. He envisioned these two pecking Batman and Robin’s eyes out right after he was through with them… and the thought put a smile on his face.

                 Besides… he always had loads of stale food and other stuff he could throw to these guys. And think about it… a scarecrow with two trusty crow sidekicks. Really, the aesthetic fit itself. Certainly made more sense than Harley with her hyenas.

                 With a bit of work (and he had plenty of time), he could get these two crows to be smarter and more able than half of the dumb henchmen he hired.

                 Acting on impulse for once in his life, Jonathan quickly said, “Sure.”

                 Oswald looked almost overjoyed, “Ah! I knew you would agree. Their names are-“

                 Jonathan interrupted, “Ah, that won’t be necessary. I already came up with names for them.”

                 “Oh uh… what then.”

                 Jonathan looked fondly at the two birds, picking pieces of the cake and feeding the two of them through the bars of the cage, saying, “Craw and Nightmare.”